#this AU is SO GOOD but I keep having to put it down

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | seven

🎶 Rest your head here, pull me closer I'll hold you tight while you let go, girl And I could love you, if you just let me Be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, absent fathers, minor discussion of baby poop, fluff, cuddling, SMUT, repeated verbal consent, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, hickeys, mild choking, pussy pronouns, terms of endearment [sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl], female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 9.1k series masterlist | part six a/n: here’s the last chapter of this fic! it’s been a long time coming and i’ve appreciated each and every one of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. it was great fun and i hope there’re more stories to tell in the future

It was worse than you imagined. You sister really was on her own despite having a very legally married husband. It only took a day to realize she hadn’t been exaggerating the situation at all. He left for work at five in the morning after not even attempting to help with the baby through the night. Your little nephew was going through a bout of sleep regression, and you witnessed how your sister was the one who went to soothe him when he seemed to wake and cry every hour. And when her husband came home twelve hours later in the evening, he made a beeline for the couch, sat down on it and suddenly had a list of demands.

Bring me a beer. When’s dinner? Did you vacuum today? Why is the washing machine ringing? You should switch those clothes out. And after dinner, he didn’t even bother taking his plate to the sink much less being a fully-functioning adult and cleaning it – or at the very least, rinsing it off.

Your sister’s day to day seemed to be a never ending circle of soothing the baby, changing the baby, feeding the baby, cleaning, cooking, cleaning again, and laundry. How she had managed for so long before hitting her breaking point and calling was beyond you. Now carrying some of the burden, you felt resentment growing for her husband – and for all men. Was this not how your own father had acted when your mom was raising you and your sister? Was he not just as absent-minded? And if these were the two marriages you had for reference, men seemed to take the cake for least helpful and useless humans on the face of the earth. All forty-nine percent of them.

It was a big reason (but not the only reason) as to why you were dodging Joel’s calls. Your first few days with your sister had grown so much anger toward men that the last thing you wanted to do was talk to one – even if he was putting on what you now believed to be an act about being attentive and caring. For the first week, he tried calling two or three times a day, and you let each of them go to voicemail. Your sister had asked who was calling, but you shrugged and insisted it was spam. Now that you’d been with her for two weeks, Joel called less and less. Still, he called once a day at varying times, hoping to catch you in a free moment. What he didn’t realize was you had no free moments as you took some of the weight off your sister’s shoulders.

You closed your laptop as your sister rounded the couch with two cups of coffee. On the carpet in front of you, your nephew was playing with a toy that seemed to only be able to play one song over and over again. With rather poor timing, your phone rang right as you were being handed coffee, and so it was impossible for you to hide the screen which very clearly read “Joel” and not “Spam Risk”. As you went to click the side button and send the call to voicemail, you caught a mischievous glance from your sister.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My neighbor,”

Your sister hid her smile by taking a sip from her coffee. She nodded slowly and let out an acknowledging hum. “He’s spam?”

You shot her a glare, “yes.”

She nodded again, then fixated her attention on her child. “How many times have you slept with spam?”

You took another sip of your coffee before reaching forward to set the mug on the table in front of you. “Not enough to warrant him being so persistent,”

“Must’ve left quite an impression. Why aren’t you answering?”

You pondered how far into this conversation you wanted to go. If you wanted to go into it at all. That childhood in the family home had really done a number on you. Shit, you were sure it had done a number on her, too. That the years of walking on eggshells and trying to figure out what type of mood mom and dad were in had done seemingly irreparable damage. That you couldn’t get yourself to let someone in. That in the times that you’d tried, it wasn’t enough. It ended in heartbreak – both blindsided and not.

And deciding none of that mattered because your sister was in her own sewer of shit, you decided to go with a simple answer. “I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him,”

If she’d been your best friend who you told everything to, she would’ve called bullshit. But it was just your sister, so she nodded in false understanding. You wondered if anyone would ever really know you.

With your morning coffee behind you, you started off on a laundry list of chores – which surprisingly enough, didn’t include actual laundry today. Surely today would blend into all the other days spent here. And would culminate in you growing so frustrated with your brother-in-law that you’d eventually just remove yourself from the room and disappear into the guest bedroom that at this point should’ve just had your name on it.

It was like clockwork. Completely infuriating that you could predict it so easily. He came home, ignored his child, and plopped his ass in his recliner, demanding a beer and asking why the living room hadn’t been vacuumed. You wanted to smash the glass bottle over his head and scream that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. Not when there was an infant that needed attention and caring for. 

And because you knew you were bound to say something you’d regret, you excused yourself from the living room early and retreated to bed with your laptop and some shitty television show you could go numb to. Even though the intent was to turn off your brain, you couldn’t stop thinking about how long you were going to stay here. A couple more days? Weeks? A month or two? Would you ever go back to Texas?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The next morning, you woke up in a sheen of sweat. Hair stuck to your cheek and forehead. And you sat up with the sheets pooled around your waist. Fuck. Two weeks and the sex dream about Joel you expected to happen in the first couple days had finally made an appearance. It would’ve been nice to get laid. Of course. But not at the expense of stringing him along. He deserved someone who could open all the way up to him. And lean on him. And depend on him. And all you could do was depend on yourself. No one else could pick up any slack for you. You could do it the best.

The baby shrieked from the other room and you knew it was late enough in the morning that he was up for good and your brother-in-law had already left for work. It was safe for you to re-emerge into the wild. Blindly reaching for the nightstand, you fumbled around for your phone, realizing it wasn’t plugged into the charger. Thinking back through the blending of days, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had it.

Padding out and seeing your nephew playing with a rattle, you waved excitedly to him. All but running over, you bent over and gave him a big, loud kiss to the head. Then you turned to finally address your sister who was already brewing a pot of coffee.

“I gotta go to the store today,”

Your sister nodded and picked up a notepad where you could see the grocery list of things she’d already added to it. She was past the point of offering to go with you as the last time that happened, it was an utter nightmare. Toting a fussy infant around while trying to move efficiently through the market was counterintuitive. You just wanted to get in and get out, and you could do that best if you went by yourself.

“Do you know where my phone is?” You looked back over your shoulder at the coffee table with no luck.

“I put it by your keys near the front door. It fell between the couch cushions last night,”

You nodded once – the sneaky couch cushion. Always the likely culprit. “I’m gonna go shower, get a cup of coffee and watch an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my little man,” you pointed at your nephew. At your attention he burst out into a toothless grin and a giggle. “And then I’ll head out for groceries,”

You were quickly learning that nothing ever went to plan with a baby. Everything was constantly derailed. The plan of shower, coffee, and TV was a nice one. But what you couldn’t account for was that halfway through the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, your nephew was going to have a massive blowout that sent poop up to his shoulder blades. Gagging and choking to keep yourself from upchucking, you ran him to the bathroom while your sister drew the bath. Getting him undressed was a task as removing his onesie meant you got some of the poop in his hair. And bathing him while also dodging the poopy water he slapped in your direction could’ve qualified you for an olympic medal. You ran for the front door as quickly as you could once he was clean again and your sister had him back in a fresh onesie. 

You never thought you’d be so happy to go to the grocery store. Even if it ended up that it seemed like everyone and their mother was doing their shopping all at the same time. Didn’t anyone work anymore?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Stubborn as all hell and not wanting to make more than one trip out to the car for groceries, you loaded the canvas bags on your shoulders and forearms until they were tugging at your skin and threatening to drop everything you’d just bought on the garage floor.

Struggling to lift your hand to turn the doorknob you got the slightest of grips on it and used your weight to push the door open, while using your foot as a wedge to keep it ajar for you to slither through and into the house. It was commonplace now to enter the house as quietly as possible. The baby was a notoriously light sleeper and you’d already been guilty of accidentally waking him more than once. So sneaking in, you knew you’d made the correct decision when you heard the classical lullabies coming from the nursery. He was out. And elsewhere in the house, you could hear the kitchen sink going. Good. Your sister was catching up on the pile of dirty dishes her husband had left behind.

You huffed and puffed, willing yourself to make it to the kitchen before you dropped the bags to the floor. It seemed as though you were going to make it. A quiet, self-congratulatory cheer was halfway out of your mouth when your breath caught in your throat at the threshold of the kitchen.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, rinsing off a handful of soapy silverware, was a large, strong back with broad shoulders. Far larger than your sister’s. Joel.

Frozen, taking a moment to comprehend that he was actually, truly there, you didn’t say a thing or make another sound. But it was like he could sense someone behind him. After setting the clean silverware down in the drying rack, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you.

“Hey,” he pressed a smile at you. That charming smile you’d gotten really used to seeing back home.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he chuckled and looked down at the sink, “I’m gonna finish washing these dishes.” He glanced back up at you, “then I’m throwing a load of towels into the laundry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Eyes flicked over him. He was just as you remembered. As if two weeks had been two years and you’d just come back from war. “Where’s my sister?”

“Sleepin’. She was tryin’ to get the little guy down for a nap but he was fussin’. I told her to get some rest,”

Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes, “you put the baby down for a nap?”

He nodded, almost looking confused at your confusion. Why wouldn’t he help with the baby? Little did he know you’d just spent the last couple weeks watching the baby’s father do absolutely nothing. So without saying anything else, you ran to him. Threw your arms over his shoulders and clutched onto him. There was a keen awareness that as you held onto him for dear life, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you to him. Secure. Steady.

You sniffled and turned your face into the crook of his neck, “I miss you.”

Though he knew you couldn’t see his face, he still tried to hide a grin. Instead, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I miss you, too.” He let you go as you slowly backed away from him and wiped your fingers beneath your eyes to make sure he didn’t see any tears fall. But he stared into your eyes and smiled a little wider, helping you catch the one tear that had made it down your cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, “you were screening my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I–”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, “don’t apologize. I know.” Joel pressed another smile and cupped his hand over the back of your head to guide you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “I know I was asking a lot of you too soon. I know that,” he lowered his hands to yours and intertwined your fingers together. “I was scared you were going to run too far away from me. That I wouldn’t be able to wrangle you back. And I… pushed too hard. I know I did because I saw the same thing in your sister today. So afraid to ask for help. Like someone’s gonna think you’re a burden if you can’t do it all,”

You sniffled again and Joel raised his hand again to swipe another tear away before it could fall fully down your cheek. 

“You’re not a burden because despite your best efforts, I’m falling for you. Take the trash out to the bins for you. Snake the drain when your hair clogs it. Plant flowers in the winter and pick a bouquet for you in the spring. I want to do all those things, so all you gotta do is ask me. Ask me and I’ll do anything for you,”

Nodding, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest. He scritched his fingers through your hair. All you could do was sniffle again. Because how in the hell did you stumble upon a guy like him when… “My sister’s husband is just like our dad. And I feel bad for her,”

Joel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be too hasty with a response to this one. Finally he settled on one. “Is that why you dodged me? Thought maybe I’d turn out to be like your dad and your sister’s husband?” He lowered his head closer to yours when you didn’t stir. You were just trying to protect yourself. He knew that, too. “You’re a good girl. You know that?”

You raised your head and looked up at him. Something you expected to hear more likely within the bedroom, had never sounded so innocent. Joel grinned a little wider and brushed his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face.

“A good girl. An understanding sister. And a helluva woman,”

On any other day, you would’ve blushed and hid your face from him at a comment like that. But today, you let his words rain over you. You wanted him to continue. To keep proving that he was leaps and bounds different from other men. But your nephew had other plans. 

And at the sound of his crying, your sister padded out of her room and spotted you and Joel in the kitchen. She blinked sleepily, beaming at the sight of you two before she carried on to tend to the baby. 

You stayed turned in her direction for a moment after she’d already left your scope of vision. But at the feeling of Joel’s hands squeezing your hips, you turned your attention back to him. “You stayin’ here, or…?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got a hotel ‘bout 10 minutes away.”

“Well, hurry up, then. I’ll throw the towels in the wash,”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

There you were. Once again. Lounging in Joel Miller’s (hotel) bed. His khaki duffle bag was on the desk pushed up against the corner of the room. A small backpack of some items of yours sat beside it. And his phone was on the nightstand beside you. That struck you as the greenest of all green flags because the phone was in striking distance should you get curious, but Joel was not. He was in the bathroom, where now, the shower turned off. You had come in together, but despite your lips on his neck with teeth grazing over it, he insisted on showering first. To get the airport off of him.

The bathroom door creaked open and you looked in that direction, awaiting him to return to your line of vision. He did just a second later. Rounded the corner out of the bathroom and stood there at the foot of the bed – a white towel slung around his hips, haphazardly secured at the front. He held a smaller white towel and scrubbed it over his head to rid his hair of dripping water.

“Now that’s a sight I missed,” he trailed his eyes over your body, splayed out on the bed. He tossed the smaller of the towels onto the desk and crawled onto the bed. 

He was so close now. His position above you forced you to recline, laying down fully. Caged there between his hands on either side of your body, you lifted your head off the pillow and kissed him. Pleased that when you lowered your head back to the bed, he followed with you as to not break your kiss. His tongue pressed to your mouth in search of entry, and once you let it in, it was greeted by your own tongue. 

Joel hummed into your mouth and let his hips fall down to yours so he could move his hands to your face. Cupping either side of your head, he brushed his thumbs back and forth over your cheeks. After a couple weeks of living life more closely resembling a nun, mixed with this morning’s sex dream, you felt redeemed by a makeout session. Longing and yearning paired with frenzied lips. Teeth gently tugging at soft, plush skin. Tongue vying for attention and power. Wandering hands in search of the next bit of purchase. You bucked your hips upward, dragging your mound over the bulge between his legs. That white towel was doing as many wonders as his gray sweatpants did. It felt like you were in college again, on some sad twin mattress, dry-humping a co-ed that wasn’t going to give you any amount of pleasure. This time, you knew the man you were dry-humping would.

Joel’s lips tightened into a smile against yours and he pulled his hips back to tease you… to keep you from getting the friction you wanted. He snaked his hand between you and the pillow and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of your head. With a slight yank, your head tilted backward, leaving your neck exposed, and you at his mercy.

“Joel,” you moaned, feeling the throbbing in your core intensify.

“Only good girls get to do that,” he smirked and pulled your hair a little harder. With your neck stretched out fully, he leaned forward and bit it, close to the collarbone. 

Instead of letting go, he sucked on it, and you absolutely knew what he was doing… Marking you. You’d wear the bruise for a few days, hiding it like a teenager who feared getting caught with it, but who would secretly ogle it in the mirror to remember the day it was given to you.

“I’m a good girl,” you pleaded, trying to lift your hips again. 

But now he moved his other hand down and gripped into your hips. Forced it back down to the bed. Too easily, you thought. “Are you? Last time I checked, good girls didn’t disappear for two weeks without a goodbye fuck,”

You pursed your lips together in a pout. That was fair. Had you not sprung your exit on him at the very last possible moment, knowing it wouldn’t amount to any sort of closure. For either of you. “I want to be one for you,”

Joel did his best to hide his smile. But you saw it crack through this domineering facade. “Yeah?”

You nodded with widened eyes and batting eyelashes. Tracing down his chest and stomach, your hands found their purchase on the top of the towel at his hips. You looked down at it for the quickest of moments. Just enough time to spot the outline of his cock beneath the fabric. Then you flicked your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Show me what kind of good girl you are,”

With a clear indication to proceed, you looked back down at his waist and curled your fingers beneath the fabric. Though it hadn’t budged from where he’d originally secured it, it became undone with very little force from you. The towel fell open and partially exposed him to you. Realizing your jaw had fallen slack, you closed it and swallowed while simultaneously pulling the towel to the side until he was completely free from it.

There was something oddly intimate about his complete nudity juxtaposed by your lack thereof. His member bobbed up and down on its own volition as he grew harder and you reached forward to wrap your fingers around him. Though with the way you were positioned together, you had to rotate your hand palm up, and twist it in a less than desirable way to be able to stroke him at all. 

His eyes drifted down to his waist and caught sight of your hand. Just having you touch him again was pleasurable enough. If he was being honest, his own hand hadn’t been cutting it in the past couple weeks. But he saw you struggle to keep pace at the awkward angle and he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled it off of him. What he didn’t expect was that you’d cry out, and with a sense of near-panic, try to reach for his length again.

Realizing he’d asked you to show him, and then very quickly was keeping you from doing so like some sort of punishment, his heart twisted into a knot. “Sorry– sorry. Just let me…” He sat back on his heels and shifted his weight from one knee to the other, to reposition himself, straddling your body. 

He lifted your hand, palm facing up, and spit into it before he released your wrist, which you promptly brought back to his shaft. Now with a better angle, you were able to stroke him with far more ease. Your eyes stayed glued to it, focused on how your hand slid from the base all the way up to the head, where your fingers curled over it before sliding back down to the base.

“Lemme see your eyes,”

On command, you looked up at Joel. His jaw had fallen slack and he stared at you with something devilish in his eyes. You licked your lips and inhaled sharply, wishing you were a little less clothed at the moment. Or at the very least, not wearing an old college t-shirt. A little visual stimulation right now could’ve done him some good.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

It was a far more gentle proposal than you’d been expecting, but nonetheless, you nodded eagerly. You lifted your head to try to get at him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and clicked his teeth until you succumbed and laid back down. This time when he peeled your hand off of him, he did so with a nod to assure you, you’d have it back in a moment.

“Take your shirt off for me?”

Thank God. You reached for the hem with haste and tore the thing off, flinging it over the side of the bed. Left in your bra – not the sexiest of them but still with a little padding for a slight push-up – you went to resume your place, but Joel caught you and helped you up a little further so you weren’t in a fully supine position. Now with your head propped up at a slight angle on the pillows, he brought his knees further up until he was straddled just below your shoulders. You flicked your eyes at him nervously. This was new.

“This alright?” He asked with his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself. There was a moment’s pause on your end, eyes flicking back and forth between him and his cock, before you nodded. He smiled to himself as you fixated on the way he played with his member. “Let me hear you say it,”

You looked back up at him. How could you have forgotten you were in the presence of the king of verbal consent? “This is good,”

“Good girl,” he smiled. With slow deliberation, he eased his hips forward and guided himself into your awaiting mouth. His free hand moved to the headboard, palm pressed flat against it to steady himself. He knew he’d grow weak feeling your mouth working him over.

And he was right. The moment your lips closed around the head of his cock, he let out a labored groan. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his chest deflate for what seemed like the first time in a long time. Now with both of his hands against the headboard, you held onto the base of his cock gently while you sucked and licked at the head; pulling more and more precum from him with each lick to the underside.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he looked down at caught you staring at him. 

You blushed and inhaled through your nose. Allowing your eyes to drift shut, you worked your mouth down halfway down his length, then pulled back so as to not choke on him. With a slow rhythm, you did that over. And over. And over again. Joel wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t saying anything particularly dirty to you. Yet you felt yourself drip in your underwear and you squeezed your thighs together. 

He must’ve heard the fabric of your jeans rustle because a chuckle floated out of his throat and your eyes snapped open. He stared down at you, head cocked to the side, and had a hard time deciding if he wanted to look at your eyes or the way his shaft moved in and out of your mouth. You kept in a staring match until your hands drifted around his legs and urged him forward even more. At that, Joel bowed his head and was decidedly focused on your eyes.

He obeyed your urging, but with a watchful gaze, he went even further than you expected him to. The head of his cock pressed at the back of your throat. Your eyes filled with tears. One even escaped the corner of your eye and rolled down to your temple. Fingers gripped tighter to the back of his thighs as he pushed the limit.

“Look at you gettin’ all of me in your mouth,” he’d grinned breathlessly, all but shoving the entirety of his length past your lips. 

You’d managed to hold your breath while he explored the far ends of the boundary, but with the next breath you tried to take, you choked and sputtered around his length. Joel pulled out of your mouth. Strands of saliva kept you connected for just a moment before they broke as he stroked himself again.

He bent over, nearly folding himself in half to lower his face to yours. Despite your heavy breathing, his free hand cupped around your neck and squeezed the sides of it gently. And he kissed you with lust and fire. No consideration or care for the fact that you’d just had him in his mouth. He lapped at your lips and tongue, drinking you up until you’d regained your breath enough for his liking. 

Joel unfolded himself and placed both hands against the headboard again. Eyes glued to you, he watched as you dove forward for his length, and took it in your mouth again. Reinvigorated, you sloppily dragged your lips over him before pulling back just enough to move your mouth down to his balls.

“F’you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he muttered through his teeth trying not to paint your face with his spend then and there.

But when his comment was met with a challenging hum from you, he lowered one hand from the headboard and reached behind him, stretching as much as he could while not disturbing what you were doing. His fingers hit the waistband of your jeans and he kept going. He pushed them beneath the tight fabric, and then pressed into your skin to get his fingertips beneath your underwear.

Your legs flinched together when he passed over your clit. You brought a hand up to his shaft for the twofold purpose of pleasuring him and keeping it out of the way while you paid his balls some attention. But with his middle finger circling your button, your mouth dropped open, “please, Joel.”

His response came to you in a soft tone. “I need to taste this pussy, sweet girl. Make me come and I’ll eat you out,”

The lightness of it – despite his words being wonderfully and horribly sexual – caught you off guard to the point that your eyes found his and you licked up over his delicate anatomy. Carefully, you sucked one of his balls into your mouth and rolled your tongue over it. The more you continued, the more you felt Joel unable to keep pace. His fingers stopped and started randomly. Brain slowly losing the ability to function as the pleasure swept through. You switched over to his other testicle and gave it the same gentle treatment when his finger stopped for good this time. He slid his hand out of your pants and curled it around the front half of his length, cautious to not accidentally bump into your face.

“M’gonna come,” he mumbled frantically, giving himself a few short tugs. “Where do you want it?”

You grinned and pulled away from his balls, “anywhere.”

“Where,” he all but demanded. His cheeks were flushed as he besought you for a clear answer.

“Mouth,” you cupped your hands around his thighs again. “My mouth,”

A guttural moan came from Joel and he angled his member at your open mouth with not a second to spare. He spilled onto your tongue with another groan. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed up until his orgasm was over. He released his shaft and it smacked down to your tongue. You picked up where he left off and wrapped your lips around him. Despite being wary of continuing gently, his body shuddered when you gave a final suck to him.

“Wait, wait…” he eased his shaft out of your mouth and hand and began to work himself backward away from your head.

Again, you’d only just swallowed when he bent over again and kissed you with an open mouth. He was, undoubtedly, the most surprising man you’d ever come across. Soon though, his lips left yours and he made his way down to your neck, where you stretched out to give him room to do so. His lips stayed by your ear, and ever so stealthily, he settled himself between your legs. Easing your thighs apart so he could drop a knee between them.

Joel kissed and licked your neck for a moment before he nipped on your earlobe, “you’re wearin’ too many clothes.” He smiled at your reaction when you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “How about we take this bra off?” 

His hand snaked around to your back and paused at the clasp until he heard you give him the go ahead. “Yes,”

Within seconds, he pulled away to part your chests only as far as he needed to in order to take the garment off you and toss it to the floor. He returned his lips to your ear with another quiet demand, “arms above your head.” Pride flooding him when you obeyed yet again. He crossed your wrists over one another and held them with one of his massive hands. Joel kept his eyes locked on yours when he trailed his free hand down between your bodies and set his fingertips on the button of your pants. “You gonna let me eat you out?”

You nodded enthusiastically and responded all at the same time, “yes. Please, God, yes,”

Joel undid the button and zipper on your jeans. With your help of lifting your lower half off the bed, he managed to shove your pants down to your calves. “She still taste as good as I remember?”

You giggled, playfully fighting against his grip on your wrists. Testing the waters. “It’s been two weeks, not two months,”

“Two weeks too long when I want it everyday,” he released your hands and kissed his way down your chest, between your breasts, down to your belly button, until he met the waistband of your underwear. He tugged on your jeans and freed your legs from them completely. Spreading your legs wider, he lowered himself between them and draped one of your legs over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the lace at the crease of your leg, “can I?”

“Joel, just do it, pl–” your words died in your throat when Joel pulled your underwear to the side and latched his mouth on your clit. “Please,” you moaned and immediately buried your fingers in his hair. Both of your hands cradled the back of his head, fighting the urge to push it down harder on you. 

He opened and closed his mouth around you, craning his head lower to lap at your dripping entrance. “Goddamn. Love that you get this wet just from sucking my cock,”

Just from the way your underwear had stuck to you, you were sure you were a mess. Slicked up and ready for Joel. He wouldn’t need to do too much for you here. Shit, the sex dream itself had nearly gotten you there. Yet he kept working. Licking from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. 

You shivered and tugged on his hair, silently begging him not to stop. The noises coming from him – the hums and the moans – were a pretty good sign that he wasn’t going to. He lifted your leg off his shoulder and pushed it back toward your chest. It raised the angle he was able to get at you and he used that advantage to close his lips around your clit again. It made your calf spasm in his hand which he remedied by massaging his fingers into the muscle. And most of all, you knew he was making more of a mess of you than you’d already been before. With each lick and swipe of his tongue, a wave of arousal flowed out of you. He even brought a hand up to your entrance and smeared your slick all over as if proving the point even further. 

Joel eased his middle finger into you with his palm facing upward. Your body fought him but he fought back by biting your inner thigh, and a shriek left your throat at the sharp feeling.

You clutched at his hair tighter, tugging on it with fervor, “so good, Joel. S’good,”

He pulled his finger out of you, much to your dismay. But very quickly pushed it back inside. This time with the addition of his ring finger. You let out a coo… a hum… a plea for him to get you there. To just tip you a little further, off the edge, foregoing the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how quickly he could.

You came without warning. You’d thought you had a minute left but there you were coming undone, moaning and trembling beneath him. In fact, the first coherent words out of your mouth were exclamations of apology. You brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to ground yourself as your body still jerked to each of Joel’s movements. Sorry’s passed your lips in a steady stream.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just removed his fingers from your core and kept kissing and licking your swollen cunt until your body stopped spasming. He kissed up your hip, to your navel, and continued past it. It wasn’t until he pressed his lips to the curve of your breast that he finally lifted his head. He stared at your lips and wiped his hand over his beard to clean away some of your release before he leaned back in and kissed you.

You accepted it wholeheartedly, trying to pay him back for your lack of warning before you came. He’d been aware enough to warn you of his. “I meant to warn you, I–”

Joel pulled away from you and shook his head, “don’t you fucking dare apologize for coming.” He lowered his weight to you and cupped one of your breasts in his hand. He kneaded the supple flesh and lifted his other hand to the side of your head. Lips pecked your jawline until he closed in on your ear. “Want me to fuck you?” 

He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Had you not been so tuned into him, you might’ve missed it. But you nodded eagerly, arching your body off the bed to grind up against him.

His lips stretched into a smile against your jaw. “Take your underwear off,” he paused, waiting as you did so. He only lifted himself far enough up for you to complete the job. Then, brimming with pride, he whispered to you again, “put me inside you.”

“Joel,” you whined, hoping he’d take control of the situation.

But he was intent on matching your stubbornness. “If you want it, take it,” he grinned again against your ear. 

This time there wasn’t hesitation on your end. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his girth. He nodded softly and you brought him between your spread legs. Careful, deliberate actions until you pushed him past your tight ring of muscle and he sunk inside you.

“Attagirl,” he lifted his head and kissed you tenderly.

You’d expected frantic, hurried sex. The type of starved lovers after weeks away. Something a little more similar to the oral sex you’d both just given and received. But instead of quick thrusts that sent your head into the headboard, Joel let himself rest inside you for an extra minute. He kissed your lips, and cheek, and jaw, before he made his way back up to your lips. Just content for the time being to relish in the feeling of him throbbing inside you, and your body responding to it with tugging clenches.

“Joel,” you whined again.

This time he cupped both hands around your cheeks and hushed you. “Let me take my time with you,”

“I need you to move though. Fuck me. Hard. And now.”

He smiled a little wider. Before he gave you a verbal answer, he rocked his hips backward and then slowly thrust back into you. “Be patient. Let me take care of you,”

It wasn’t lost on you that he was saying that a lot lately. Let me take care of you. If this… mind-blowing sex and earth-shattering orgasms were included in the “taking care of you”, you were inclined to let him. So you bit your tongue and set your hands on his ribs, content to let him take care of you however he saw fit. You doubted you’d have any objections if it was going to end in another orgasm.

Joel’s languid thrusts pierced into you in steady repetition. And though they weren’t fast or rough, they were just as deep and powerful as you remembered. Maybe even more so as the slowness allowed for his eyes to remain on your face; catching every miniscule change in your expression. From the breathless smile that spread across your face when his cock passed over your gspot, to the wince that replaced it when the head of his length pressed against your cervix. 

He kissed you again, this one a tender thing that matched the care and precision of his thrusts inside you. Each forward motion of himself into your anatomy fanned the flame inside you. A heat rose in your chest and migrated up your neck and to your cheeks. You saw a similar flush in Joel’s own chest and cheeks. It gave you great pleasure to know you could satisfy him as much as he could satisfy you.

You clutched at his sides a little tighter when a particularly deep thrust made the edges of your vision blur. “Want you to come inside me,”

“Yeah?” He nodded, reassuring, “I will.”

In times past, even if the sex wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t necessarily an event. Not like this. Not like Joel was content to fuck up into you for hours if that’s what it took. It surely wasn’t going to. But not once did his pace quicken or falter. Not when you purposefully squeezed your muscles around him to spit him on. Not when you lifted your hips off the bed to meet him halfway. In fact, he just held you down. Pinned a hand to your waist and forced you flush to the bed so he could keep his desired speed. 

But in the effort of once again meeting each other at stubbornness, you decided to take matters into your own hand. You pressed against his chest with force, not surprised when he immediately leaned away from you. He didn’t go as far as to pull out, but he did stare down at you, utterly confused. Just after your last request, he wasn’t expecting you to be stopping him.

“I wanna be on top,” you pressed on his shoulder thinking he’d roll over just as easily.

But Joel just laughed at you and shook his head. He pulled out to the tip and then rolled his hips forward back into you. However, you pushed on his chest again, more insistent this time. Joel caught one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it down by your head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna go too fast and we’re havin’ a moment,”

You glared playfully at him. If he wasn’t going to let you do it off the bat, you knew you could play harder. Lifting your head off the pillow, you nipped at his jaw, making your slow way to his neck, where you dragged your tongue over his jugular. “I want to ride you… pretty please?” You suckled on his neck and let out an airy whimper, “wanna feel you all the way up in my stomach. Feel you…”

Joel cut you off with a well-placed arm around your back and he carefully flipped you both over without slipping out of you. Victorious, you wiggled your hips, drilling him into you to the hilt.

“Don’t get too cocky. I would’ve come if you said rearrange your guts, so really I did you a favor,”

You rolled your eyes and set your hands on his chest, using the leverage to roll your hips back and forth along his length. You’d play by his rules. You’d go slow and let the moment continue. You wouldn’t try to ride him within an inch of his life just for the heck of it. Shit, you weren’t far off of your next orgasm when he was on top of you. Now you knew your time on top of him was finite.

He kept his hands on your hips as if he wasn’t sure you’d comply with him. Like he’d have to use every remaining ounce of strength to keep you moving how he wanted you to. But on top of him, able to fully harness the friction against your clit you’d been searching for, it wasn’t hard to want to comply. You could get everything your wanted and more. So as your movements kept him deep, and your anatomy clung and pulled at him, you neared another orgasm with haste.

You thought he could feel it coming. You were sure he could. The grin on his face was either because he knew your climax was imminent, or because his was. Either way, it seemed like a good time to you. Your head bowed forward, chin dropping to your chest, and your body stiffened. Everything stopped for you as you tried to fight it off. To make it last a little while longer. But the ever-present grip Joel had on your hips tightened. Fingers squeezed your supple flesh. And he thrust up into you with power you weren’t sure he’d be able to get at this angle.

The orgasm crashed into you and you were only half-aware of the filth coming out of Joel’s mouth. The words, despite being completely debauched, seemed almost normal now. The only thing that caught you was how his expression twisted when you clenched down on him. How his fingers flexed around your hip. And how he then pushed you down on him, making it impossible for you to wriggle away as he came inside you. 

You collapsed down against his chest, breathing in as much fresh air as you could get into his lungs. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and chest but you couldn’t have cared any less to lay your cheek against it. As your breathing began to even out, you felt one of Joel’s hands wrap around your backside and reach for his member. He eased himself out of you, humming to match the groan you let out. 

It wasn’t the time to think about it, but you couldn’t get your mind off the thought of how long you’d get to keep Joel out here. If he’d stay with you a few days. Maybe a week. How were you ever going to leave your sister in a lurch, without help, if you returned back home. Home to Texas.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite having showered before sex, both you and Joel showered again after it. Bound to go back to your sister’s. But you were already back in bed waiting for him, while Joel rustled through his duffle bag in search of a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He’d already asked you in the shower what that funny look on your face was all about. But you’d told him it was nothing, and though he didn’t particularly like that answer, he didn’t press it at the time.

Now as he glanced over at you on the bed and saw the same look on your face, he figured he’d try again. “Spooked?”

You flicked your eyes over at him, “no. Just thinking about how I’m gonna have to leave her here with him.”

Joel nodded and slid a navy blue shirt over his head. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t have to rush home for me. I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

You nodded as he neared with a pair of jeans in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and leaned in for a quick kiss. It was there and gone in a flash. Replaced by the feeling of his hand on your thigh.

“I know this is a weird thing to bring up but I feel like we should talk about it before we get too deep into this thing and it gets brutal or mes–”

“I hate this preface,” you mumbled, searching his face for any indication of what this apparently uncomfortable conversation was going to be.

“Do you want kids?” He caught your widening eyes and gripped into your thigh a little tighter as if to keep you both grounded in reality. “I can’t give you any, ‘cause you know… snipped. And before you say it’s reversible or anything, I don’t want to get it reversed.”

“I wasn’t going to say it’s reversible,” you pressed a smile.

“Well…” he took a breath. “I just don’t want to get too far into this if the answer is yes because then I won’t be able to give you what you want. And you deserve that… if you want it,”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met a man that I could see myself having kids with,”

“But what if that’s me?”

“It won’t be.” Off his shocked expression, you reached forward too and set your own hand on his leg, “I mean, if seeing myself with you means no kids, then that’s not even an option to consider if I see myself with you. It’s like you being young… it’s not an option,”

Joel smirked and raised his hands to your ribs to tickle you, “that was kinda mean.”

You nudged his hands away from you and leaned in instead, resting yourself against his chest. “Right now, at this moment, I’d rather have you and nothing than a sub-par husband and a kid,”

“I didn’t say nothin’ about getting married. The vasectomy got nothin’ to do with that,”

“We’ll see how it goes. No pressure. Y’know ‘cause in fifteen years you might be a real pain in my ass,” you winked.

He tackled you down to the bed and smothered your neck and face with endless kisses until you were laughing hysterically.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The following days passed slowly. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about that. Time wasn’t flying by before your very eyes. You had time to relish Joel. To be continually stunned by him every time he stepped up to do something for your nephew that your sister’s husband should’ve been doing. There was time to lounge and talk. To play around. To be told by an older woman in the grocery store that “you and your husband have made the cutest little boy”.

And when his flight home came a few days later, you drove him to the airport and clutched at his sweater with every ounce of strength you had. Told him you didn’t know when you’d be home, but it would be soon. And he didn’t ask you to clarify. Didn’t ask if that meant in a couple days, a week, or a month. Just cupped his hands over your cheeks and nodded. Told you it was okay. Trusted that you’d come home when you were ready to.

That only took about a week. One more week of watching your brother-in-law sit on his ass while you helped raise his child. You broke the news to your sister and she did her best to hide her fear and pain. You did your best to hide yours, too. On the way out, you also left her with some words of encouragement. To not let him sit on his ass. To force him to take an active role. And if he couldn’t, then to get the fuck out. Though she nodded and said she would, you knew she’d always stick around and be left unsatisfied.

Joel had told you to let him know when you were coming home. That he’d pick you up from the airport. But you decided to let him off the hook. To handle your own business and call an Uber to scoop you up.

He was in your front yard, mowing the lawn when you showed up. He let the gas engine rumble to a stop when the car pulled up. Stood, watching you, with his hands on his hips as you rounded to the trunk of your car and lifted out your suitcase though the driver came around to help you. You murmured an “I got it” to him and Joel found it endearing. How you said that to him on the first day you moved into the neighborhood and put up such a fight at his insistence to help. What he’d learn later, and what this sad Uber driver would never get the chance to learn, is that you were all bark and no bite.

You rolled your suitcase over the curb and let it fall to the half-cut grass. Got up in front of Joel and smirked at him, “you’re mowing my lawn?”

He smiled back. Much more pleasant. “Yeah. It was so long, it was bringing down my property value. You’re a bad neighbor,”

“Yeah,” you shifted your gaze to the grass momentarily. “Maybe I’ll be a better girlfriend,”

A red flush crept up over Joel’s cheeks. He nodded as if he was sure of it. “Probably not,”

Your jaw dropped and you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel caught your hands and held them against him. He leaned in for a kiss. Something rather chaste, but he inhaled to take you in before he stood back up. With a nod in the direction of his house, he smiled again, “go on to the house. I got a fresh pot of coffee goin’.”

“I want to shower,”

“Shower there. I got clothes,”

You pointed at your suitcase, “I have laundry.”

“I’ll bring it in. Go on.” He nodded again in the direction of his home, “I’ll meet you there after I finish up here,”

You relented and made off for his home after one more kiss. Before you’d even fully crossed the street, you heard his old push mower roar back to life. With his front door unlocked, you stepped inside and came face to face with a vase full of fresh cut flowers on the table in the entryway. Like he’d been expecting you the whole time.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

a chaotic trip to the grocery store

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note: I am 100% procrastinating on other wips simply because I can't get Jack as a dad out of my head. I might make this a whole AU. 🤭 Shoutout to Allie (@aleskie-hischier) for letting me yap her ear off, about this concept off and on for weeks. Also choosing not to put a summary because it's so small it ruins it.

Grocery shopping wasn't supposed to be this difficult. Jack has been a single dad for a few months now, but somehow this is the first time he is taking both his kids grocery shopping - and he knows he is a shitty person for thinking this - but he wishes Luke would of agreed to babysit for an hour instead of him taking both of them to the store.

"Daddy" his son screeches his name and Jack is suddenly alert again, to the fact that he is in the store entering the cereal aisle.

"ya baby?" because despite his son, just being a little over two years old now, Zander will always be Jack's baby. Even now, even though Zander hates it and his brows are in that cute little frown and lips are slightly pouting as they do only when Jack calls him by that.

" 'ot a baby. Zo a baby." he pouts, standing in the cart now, with his little arms folded over his chest, 'God he looks so much like me' Jack thinks to himself. 'just too sassy for his own good.'

"You are both my babies. Isn't that right Zozo." Jack coos at his baby girl sitting in the seat of the basket, slightly leaning forward to grab her attention. Jack smiles at his daughter as she laughs at him, clapping her hands now that she's receiving attention from her favorite person.

Jack suddenly snaps out of whatever moment he's having with his daughter when he hears his son call for him again. "yes bab-. Sorry little Z whatcha need?" He smirks as he teases his son on purpose.

"Can I have da good cereal?" he asks cheekily with a smile on his face. The 'good cereal' Zander means the sugary kind that gets him so hyper it’s hard to control his energy and he usually is meaner to his sister, which results in a lot of crying and screaming from both of them. Jack takes a deep breath, just thinking about how his morning would go if he gave in and let him have it for a snack when they got home. Ultimately if he gave in to buying it, Zander would have a hard time understanding that right before nap time isn’t the right time for that type of snack. Jack sighs to himself, as he tries to let his son down gently hoping he doesn’t have a meltdown. 

"No buddy, not today." Jack responds softly hoping that Zander will let it go. But before his son can let out any response, let alone his little protests. Jack hears someone call his name and he flinches his father's instincts kicking into overdrive, he used to not mind getting recognized when he was out but when he has his kids it's his worst nightmare.

It's almost like his kids can feel their father's shift in the mood and he lets out a deep breath, hoping that it soothes them. Jack smiles to himself when it seems to work, keeping a hand on the cart he turns around to the voice shedding the stranger from seeing his children. Sadly it isn't the first time he has been recognized in public with his kids and it won't be the last. But the knot in his stomach, hopes whoever he is about to face will be kind. One thing Jack hates the most about playing in the NHL, is his children's faces being blasted all over social media and talked about endlessly simply because of who their father is. Jack truly doesn’t know how real famous people deal with the media around their kids. 

He turns around to see a man and a girl, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Somehow the guys always happened to be a little more chill than the young girls. "oh shit you are Jack Hughes!" he exclaims in shock.

"hey can you not curse in front of my kids man." Jack tries hard to not sound like a dick, but Zander is in his copying faze and if he picks up curse words from a fan, Jack will never hear the end of it.

"Oh fuck sorry. shit sorry I-." Jack gives him a tight smile, he can see the guy trying but when you're in your 20's most people don't have to censor their language due to being around children. The young man, probably no more older than the 24 year old Jack, looks to the girl for help.

"Sorry to bother you, but it would mean a lot if he could take a picture with you?" The girl smiles softly at Jack, but Jack doesn't respond because he hears Zander whine for him, his stranger danger stage along with copying every word stage in full force. Of course, if Zander shows any sign of distress Zo will start fussing as well. Jack doesn't even attempt to apologize to the couple as he turns to his kids.

"Come here baby. It's okay." Jack mumbles as he reaches for his mini-me. Zander doesn't seem to mind the nickname anymore when he's scared. Quickly he goes to his fathers arms and lets him be picked up out of the cart, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hiding his face in his neck. Jack holds his son and tries to smooth him as he clings to him. Jack tries to focus, frowning his eyebrows as he uses the heel of his foot to rock the cart back and forth trying to calm Zola down in the process. Finally, feeling Zander calm down against his chest, he moves him to one side so he now can use his hand to pet his daughter's head showing her everything is fine.

"You have really cute kids." The girl speaks up, and suddenly Jack is reminded of why his son was so scared in the first place, he feels Zander press into him a little harder than a few seconds ago and Jack's jaw tightens in response.

"Look if I take a picture with you, you promise not to take any of them or post the photo online for a few hours. They're just kids, they deserve privacy." Before Jack can continue on his tangent the girl cuts him off.

"We haven't." She almost seems offended for Jack assuming they would take unconsented photos but he doesn't apologize for it.

"I'd love a picture with you if you're able." The man speaks softly, Jack grins at him tightly, bending his head down to talk to his son.

"Hey little Z?" he coos. Even though Jack doesn't hear his son, he knows Zander is listening because his head turns ever so slightly towards his fathers voice.

"Can we make a deal lil' man?" Jack softly asks. He waits until he can feel his son nod his head. “Can you be brave and stay with sissy while I take a photo with these nice people.” Jack softly asks, his tone so soft that Zander is craning his neck slightly to make sure he hears his dads every word. 

“I wanna stay wit you.” Zander sniffles, and Jack's heart sinks in the pit of his stomach. 

“My baby. I’ll be 3 feet away okay. And then we can pick a special healthy snack for snack time today. Alright?” Jack shoots a look over to the couple, as if to tell them without speaking that he’s working on it. 

“Why cannt’ I stay wit you?” Zander asks. 

“Because then who’s gonna watch Zozo?” Jack asks, knowing he isn’t telling his son the whole truth, about how he will never let him be in fan pictures. I mean he is a little over two and his face hasn’t been posted once on social media, it’s honestly a miracle that only Jack holding him one time was posted. One day he will tell him, but not when Zander is two and having a tough time understanding that his dad isn’t leaving him. 

“Promise you come back. Not like mama.” Zander asks, and Jack wants to cry, his son thinks that Jack would ever leave him. 

“Promise honey.” Jack coos, kissing the crown of his son's head. He felt Zander wiggle in his grasp and he knew he wanted to let down. Jack gently made sure he was on his feet, before he stood and got up, he softly put Zanders little hand so it grasped the cart but he stepped back. Jack stood opposite of his kids, on the other side, so there was no chance for even a glimpse of his children in the picture. Jack took a selfie with both, and one photo with each of them separately. 

Once the couple finally walked away, he felt his son tug his leg. “I did it daddy! I was a big boy SEE NO BABY.” His voice screeched with glee. 

“You did so good Z.” Jack smiled down at him, ruffing his hair. “What healthy snack do you want bubs?” he asks, picking him up and placing him back in the cart. 

“I wan’ da good cereal,” he demands. 

“Zander,” he says sternly. “I already told you not today.” Jack knows he has roughly 3 minutes before a full on meltdown, and maybe it’s the guilt from Zander struggling earlier on during the grocery trip. But he just sighs and places the cinnamon toast crunch in the cart, Jack is just glad he could avoid a meltdown. Although then his daughter needs her diaper changed and starts to cry to let her dad know. Suddenly Jack feels like he should have just listened to Luke when he told him to Instacart.

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US #DRABBLE - JUNGKOOK THINKS YOU HATE HIM

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 1.3k

MAIN STORY HERE.

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 17 years old.

You have become distant over the last few weeks. Jungkook has grown accustomed to having you around constantly: at lunchtime, in class, and even walking home together. But it’s been two or three weeks since you’ve started avoiding him, finding excuses.

At first, he didn’t say much—maybe you were really busy. But then he caught you with other friends. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. Over the past year, everything in his life had improved with you in it. But now, he feels like he’s bothering you every time he tries to talk. The worst part is that you keep talking to Jimin, even having lunch with him—but not Jungkook.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook mumbles, stabbing his bowl of rice with his chopsticks as he gazes at you from afar, sitting with your friend Hyesun. You seem so happy, laughing at something she said, oblivious to his gaze when you could usually spot him anywhere. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks Jimin, who tilts his head to look at you too, sighing.

“We never know what that girl has in her mind,” Jimin says, chewing his food. “It’s not you, Kookie. You’re the kindest guy I know.”

“Then why is she avoiding me?” Jungkook frowns, making Jimin sigh and taking a sip of his water.

“Maybe she figured out that you’re madly in love with her and doesn’t feel the same?” Jimin suggests. Jungkook freezes at the words, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’m not— I don’t have feelings for her…” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his tray.

“Oh please”, Jimin rolls his eyes, putting down his chopsticks. “You’re a sap for her. You buy her favorite snacks, wait for her after class even when yours ended two hours earlier, and you even go to the library with her. You never stepped foot in that place before meeting her.”

“I’m just a good friend.” Jungkook frowns, trying to deny Jimin’s words.

“You turned down every girl who hit on you this year, Kookie.” Jimin arches a brow as Jungkook whines, throwing his head back, before hiding his face in his hands. He knows that Jimin is right. He hates that Jimin can read him like an open book.

“Do you really think… She’s avoiding me because of that?” Jungkook asks quietly, his face still buried in his hands. Jimin sighs, staring at his friend.

He’s been following the development of your friendship since the start. Gently, Jimin wraps his fingers around Jungkook’s wrist and pulls his hands down.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, “She’d be stupid to avoid you just for that. You’re a great guy, Kookie. A little slow and dumb, but not in a bad way.” He teases with a smirk, making Jungkook smile slightly.

“I don’t want to lose her. If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s okay. I can deal with a little heartbreak. But not… not having her in my life.” Jungkook admits, and Jimin’s lips curve in a soft smile. “I’ll talk to her.”

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook wipes his hands on his pants. He’s been standing outside your door for fifteen minutes. He was full of courage on the way to your building, but now it's slowly crumbling. What’s he supposed to say? Are you avoiding me because I’m in love with you? He cringes at the thought. No, he can’t say that. Exhaling softly, he knocks at your door before he could chicken out.

Your father opens the door, his slight frown shifting into a smile. He knows Jungkook. He actually loves Jungkook; he is a respectful and well-mannered.

“What’s up, son?” Your father grins as Jungkook swallows hardly, his hands sweaty. He discreetly wipes them again.

“Hello sir. Is… Y/N here?” He asks with a small voice.

“Come in, she’s in her room.” His father nods, stepping aside as Jungkook bows politely before entering. Once his shoes are off, he heads to your room. Your door is open, you’re lying on the floor, humming a song and drawing in your notebook.

You sit up and frown when you see Jungkook standing in your doorframe, still outside the room, because he didn’t have time to knock. You always seem to sense his presence whenever he's near. He called it your ‘spider-sense’.

“Kook?” You ask, getting up clumsily, feeling awkward. “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh… I need to talk to you.” He mumbles as you walk over, gesturing for him to come in before looking outside at your father, who’s smirking at you. You roll your eyes and close the door behind you.

“I’m kinda busy,” you say, avoiding his gaze, with your hands on your hips. “Make it quick.”

Jungkook's heart clenches painfully at the way you're acting. He hates it. He misses you.

“Y/N…” He starts, tilting his head to force you to look at him. “Are you avoiding me?”

“What— No!” You immediately shake your head.

“Please, don’t… sugarcoat it. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, that’s okay. But just tell me. I’ll respect your decision, but—"

“I’m not avoiding you, Kook!” You sigh, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“We haven't had a real conversation in weeks. You have time for everyone but me. You can’t even look at me right now.” He frowns as you finally lift your eyes from your feet to meet his gaze. “You know what? Sorry, it was stupid of me to bother you. I get it.” He clenches his jaw and steps back, turning toward the door.

He needs to get out fast. Jungkook has always been emotional. He can’t help it. The last thing he wants is for you to see him cry over this. He knows you wouldn’t judge him. But it still hurts.

 “What do you want me to say?” You bark, fists clenched at your sides as you stare at the back of his neck. You hate his chestnut haircut—you’ve told him multiple times. But that didn't stop you from falling for that idiot.

Your words make him freeze, his fingers still on the doorknob. He stares at the chipped paint of your door, unsure what to do, waiting for you to continue.

“I…” you start, shaking your head. “This is stupid.”

“You what?” He asks, not moving. But when you don’t reply, he nods, his grip tightening on the doorknob. “Alright…” He sighs, ready to leave.

“I like you.” You say in one breath, scared that if he crosses the threshold, you’ll never see him again. The confession sends a shiver down his spine. When he turns to face you, you're looking away, frowning— probably angry because you don't understand this new feeling. “Laugh at me all you want. I can’t help it.” You mutter, jaw clenched.

But Jungkook doesn’t want to laugh. His features soften as he watches you.

“Why would I?” He almost whispers, stepping closer. “Why would I?” He repeats, tilting his head to make you meet his gaze.

“Because you’re popular, and you can have any girls you want. Why would you care about someone who looks and acts like a boy?” You reply, making him chuckle softly. He pulls you into a warm hug, your breath shaky, but you stay still.

“I don’t care about them,” He murmurs, his warm breath brushing your ear as he tightens his arms around you, his nose grazing the skin of your shoulder. “I like you,” he says, and his words make you freeze for a second before you start laughing nervously. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping shyly around his frame.

A huge weight lifts off your heart, and you feel lighter.

“Let me take you on a date,” he offers, pulling back as you shake your head, amused.

“A date?” You ask as he hums, wiping away a lonely tear from your cheek— the last remnant of your fear of losing him because of feelings you thought were unrequited.

“Well… I don’t have the money for something fancy, but I know you like tteokbokki.” He adds with an amused smile, his hands resting on your shoulders as you nod. “If I want you to be my girlfriend, I’ll better woo you properly, right?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

[bruhnze]

Personal Records Ch.4 - epilogue

Summary: this is an epilogue chapter of the series 'Personal Records' that i wrote. It's an AU where Lucy is a personal trainer and Ona is a realestate agent. In this chapter we are eight years after they got together. Ona and Lucy have 2 kids. This epilogue can be read separately, but if you want to read the other parts, those can be found here. And a big thank you to @pinkygirl28 for helping :)

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut. fluff.

Words: 11.458

“Good morning, birthday girl,” Ona leaned over her wife’s shoulder, whispering in her ear and placing a soft kiss against the side of her face, just next to her ear.

Lucy was lying on her stomach, arms wrapped around her pillow, and one knee bent up. Ever since they had kids, Lucy had miraculously started sleeping better. As soon as she hit the bed, she could fall asleep, waking only when one of their two sons came into the room, or when the alarm went off on the rare occasions the boys slept in. Only on very special days—she was woken up by her wife.

Lucy stirred and groaned. “What time is it?” she murmured into the pillow.

Ona chuckled, kissing Lucy’s bare shoulder. “Six fifteen, my love.”

“Six fifteen?” Lucy took a deep breath, rolling over and stretching with a lazy smile. “Hmm, are you waking me up before the alarm for any particular reason, Mrs. Bronze-Battle?”

“Well, with a birthday comes presents,” Ona teased. “You don’t turn forty-one every day, so—”

Lucy gasped, clutching her heart dramatically as she let her head drop back on the pillow. “Babe, I just had a nightmare, oh my God, it was so realistic but so scary,” she said in an exaggerated whisper. “I dreamed that my wife accused me of being forty-one.”

Ona rolled her eyes. “Glad to see you’re still the same weirdo.”

Lucy’s mouth fell open in mock offense. She rolled over and hovered over Ona, holding her wrists beside her head. “Calling the birthday girl a weirdo? Pfft and here I was, thinking I’d get a quickie or something.”

Ona chuckled, pretending to fight for her freedom. “Well, if you keep holding me like this, nothing like that can happen.”

Lucy leaned in, brushing Ona’s neck with her nose and lips, placing a few teasing kisses. “Ahh, so it was the reason you woke me up?”

Ona swallowed. Even after all these years of marriage, she still felt an undeniable pull toward Lucy. She was so attracted to her. Lucy could just... ugh, she was amazing. “Yeah. Didn’t you hear me go to the bathroom a few minutes ago?” Ona said, blushing slightly.

“No, why?”

Ona chuckled. “I put a nice set on.”

Lucy released Ona’s hands and sat back, straddling Ona’s hips carefully, not letting her weight rest on her wife. The covers slid off her back, revealing Ona in a green lingerie set.

Lucy smirked, amused. “Hmm. Happy birthday to me, indeed.”

She shifted, parting Ona’s legs and kneeling between them, before leaning forward to kiss her wife.

“Mmm, even brushed your teeth,” Lucy noted, pulling back.

Ona chuckled, wrapping her legs around Lucy’s hips. “Mhm. I went all out.”

Lucy smiled, gazing into Ona’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

Ona reached up, cupping the back of Lucy’s neck. “I love you too, baby. But a quick reminder: the alarm will go off at exactly seven o’clock.”

With a scrunch of her nose, Lucy leaned in, kissing Ona deeply, her hips grinding gently against Ona’s covered center.

When Ona gasped, Lucy slipped her tongue into the kiss, deepening it.

After a moment Lucy broke away for a breath, Ona bit her lip. “Love it when you kiss me like that.”

“Mm, I love kissing you like that,” Lucy murmured, leaning in again. “My wife.”

“Fuck. You know I am,” Ona said, lifting her head off the pillow to kiss Lucy again.

Lucy smirked, still grinding her hips as she buried her face in Ona’s neck. “Can we use the strap?” she asked sweetly, planting soft kisses. “It’s been a while,” she added with a pout.

“Please,” Ona said breathlessly, nodding as her legs loosened around Lucy.

Lucy kissed her way down Ona’s body, sliding the lace bra up to expose her chest. “Gunna fuck you so good, babe,” she whispered lowly before running her tongue over Ona’s hardened nipple.

Ever since Ona had the kids, her chest had become more sensitive and had stayed that way. She threaded her fingers through Lucy’s hair, guiding her gently to avoid sucking too hard or biting, as Lucy sometimes forgot this fact. Lucy groaned. “I missed this.”

Ona chuckled, letting her head fall back on the pillow. “It’s only been a week, amor.”

“Only?” Lucy looked up at Ona with a smirk before continuing downward.

Lucy started kissing Ona´s stomach until she was squirming.

Smiling, she placed one last kiss before stepping out of bed.

But.. just as Lucy reached for the dresser drawer, the bedroom door opened.

Ona sighed, pulling her top back into place.

Lucy’s gaze shot from her wife to the door and back, disappointment flickering for a moment before worry replaced it. Why did their son look sad?

“Mommy,” their four-year-old mumbled as he walked into the room. “I dreamed... I-I-” A few tears rolled down his cheeks. “Lo siento,” he said, pouting and looking down at the floor.

“Hey, little man,” Lucy said, walking over to him. “What’s wrong?”

As she bent down to pick him up, she realized the issue. “Oh... did you dream you were sitting on the potty again?” she guessed gently.

“Sí,” the boy admitted, still staring at the floor.

“It’s okay, Lucas. You didn’t do it on purpose,” Ona reassured, getting out of bed. “No a propósito.”

“Mhm. Potty training is hard, and you’re doing so well,” Lucy added. “This is only the second time in two weeks you’ve had an accident.” Kneeling in front of her son, she asked, “And what do we always say?”

Lucas looked up, glancing between his two moms. “Accidents... will... eh... happen?”

“Mhm, exactly, accidents happen,” Ona said, pulling on her robe and joining Lucy.

“Come on, let’s clean you up,” Ona said, holding out her hand. “And your bed.”

Lucy followed them.

In the dinosaur-themed bedroom, Ona flicked on the light as Lucy pulled fresh sheets from the closet. Luckily, they’d put a hydrophobic mattress cover on, a lesson learned while potty-training their older son, Oliver, who was now six.

“Babe, you don’t have to do this. I can handle it,” Ona offered, setting clean clothes on the sink in Lucas´ bathroom. “You can shower and go relax downstairs before I start breakfast.”

Lucy smiled. “Of course not. We’re in this together.”

“We are a team!” Lucas called out, repeating the phrase his moms often said.

Lucy’s smile widened. “Yes, we are a team. Aren´t you such a smart kid.”

She exchanged a loving glance with Ona. They adored their little family.

Lucas beamed. “I can shower by myself. Mommies can make the bed.”

Ona chuckled. “I’ll help you with the shower, baby. You’re not getting out of this.”

“I’m not a baby.” Lucas frowned, huffing indignantly.

Ona rolled her eyes affectionately. “You look way too much like your mama.” She walked to the bathroom, setting the water on the right temperature.

“He said that because you called him ‘baby,’ by the way,” Lucy called as she stripped the bed. “Not because he wanted to do it alone.”

Lucas stood there infront of the shower, looking up at his mom. Waiting for her instructions. Ona laughed, realizing Lucy was probably right.

…

After getting Lucas dressed and his bed fresh again, the three of them headed downstairs. It was Friday, and today Lucy’s parents were arriving in Spain. This weekend, they would celebrate Lucy’s birthday.

“Buenos días, Ollie,” Lucy said in surprise, spotting the flicked-on light in the TV room. “Are you up already? Ya estás despierto?” she repeated in Spanish.

They were trying to raise their kids bilingual. When Ona was pregnant, they had discussed at length how to approach it. The options were Spanish, Catalan, and English. But they’d read that introducing three languages at home could confuse children. So, they chose to use Spanish and English at home, with Catalan being learned naturally through school.

“Ya no podía dormir más,” Oliver replied without looking up from what he was doing.

Lucy didn’t need to glance at Ona to know the look on her face. Ona always gave her the same amused expression whenever their boys mirrored her. Oliver was Lucy’s mini-me, no doubt about it��and Ona loved it.

Lucy walked over to see what he was up to behind the couch. There he was, stretched out on his stomach with the dog beside him, the iPad propped up against the couch. He was watching football videos, of course.

“What are you watching, cowboy?” Lucy asked as she climbed over the couch.

“The 2025 Champions League final, Barça against Chelsea,” he replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Mmm, that is a good one,” Lucy said appreciatively. “A classic.”

Football was their shared thing. Lucy watched both men’s and women’s matches whenever they were on, and from the time Oliver could sit up, he had joined her. It was adorable, and a little impressive, how much the boy knew about the teams and players.

“And good morning to you, Canela,” Lucy added, scratching the dog behind her ears. When Lucas had turned three, they had finally gotten a dog—a lifelong dream for Lucy. They had ended up with a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, who Ona had named, much to Lucy’s playful regret.

“Why are you on the floor, anyway?” Lucy questioned as she petted her son’s head.

“I wanted Nela to watch with me,” Oliver said, still absorbed in the game. “I’m showing her women’s football so she can learn and play with me.”

“Aha,” Lucy said, holding back a chuckle. “So, I’m not good enough to play ball with you anymore?”

Oliver looked up, clearly thinking hard about her question.

“You are,” he finally said, “but sometimes you’re at work, and Nela is... siempre en casa.”

“Wow, you really thought about that, didn’t you?” Lucy grinned. “Well, I’m sure she can be your goalie.”

“Yes,” Oliver huffed. “She always takes the ball in her mouth, but I want to pass to each other—”

Suddenly, he gasped. “Wait! Mom!”

Lucy blinked. “What happened?”

“Your cumpleaños!” he shouted as he bolted off.

Lucy followed him with her eyes until her gaze landed on Ona. Her beautiful wife stood in the kitchen, their youngest sitting on the counter. The two women exchanged amused glances. Oliver could be an unpredictable whirlwind at times, always living in his own world.

“Alright,” Lucy chuckled. She picked up the iPad from the floor and set it on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen.

She came up behind Ona, resting her chin on her shoulder. “What’s cooking, good-lookin’?” she teased, placing a kiss just below Ona’s ear.

Ona chuckled, continuing what she was doing. “Making a birthday breakfast.”

“Mmm, I think my chances of a proper birthday breakfast sailed away with a dream about potties.”

Air escaped Ona’s nose as she laughed softly. “Tonight.”

“Oh?” Lucy teased, nipping at Ona’s neck. “With my parents under our roof? Naughty girl.” She buried her face between Ona and the fuzzy collar of her robe, planting playful kisses.

“My favorite breakfast is every breakfast,” Lucas said, sounding contemplative, as if he’d just discovered this truth about himself.

“Oh we know baby, you’re our little glotón,” Ona said, noticing his eager gaze fixed on the food.

In a softer tone, she murmured to Lucy, “Your parents are staying in the guesthouse.”

Lucy bit Ona’s neck teasingly, kissing the spot after, and pulled her wife closer by the hips.

Ona chuckled. “Maybe we can even set up a s-l-e-e-p-o-v-e-r for the boys there, too, in the context of ‘missing them.’”

Lucy laughed, pressing more kisses to Ona’s neck. “Mmm, I like the way you think.”

“Mommy, don’t eat Mama!” Lucas said, offended, pointing at the plates. “Breakfast! Casi listo... almost.”

Lucy pulled back with a grin, turning her attention to her son. “But I. Am. Hungry,” she said, slowly walking towards him like a monster.

“Nooo!” Lucas kicked his legs, laughing as his mother playfully clawed at him.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a little boy!” Lucy said as she swung him over her shoulder.

She carried the squirming, giggling Lucas to the sofa and gently tossed him onto it.

She leaned over, tickling him until his face turned red. “Stop, Mommy, stop!” he whined.

“Say clemència?” she teased, already slowing her attack.

“Piedad, piedad, por favor!” Lucas giggled.

Lucy raised her hands in surrender. “I guess the monster will have to go hungry.”

Lucas chuckled. “Noo-ooh, Mama is making yummy breakfast.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Mama is making breakfast.” Lucy smiled, scooping him into her arms and kissing his cheek. “She’s the best mom, isn’t she?”

Lucas nodded, his little hand resting on Lucy’s cheek as if studying her.

Lucy braced herself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Their boys’ words were often delightfully unpredictable.

“Yo amo a mamá,” he said softly, as if sharing a secret.

Lucy nodded knowingly. “Mm, yo también amo a mamá,” she whispered in his ear.

As they approached the kitchen, Lucy set Lucas in his chair and looked around the table to see if anything was missing. She grabbed the glasses and helped set them.

“Looks amazing, babe,” Lucy said as she took her seat.

“Mhm, and now it’s actually not so bad we’re up early, at least there’s plenty of time to eat,” Ona said, wiping her hands on a towel.

Lucy was about to protest Ona’s comment, but she was already heading out of the kitchen. Saying, “I’m going to check on Oliver, and then we can dig in. Okay Lucas? Espera a tu hermano.” Maybe more so directed at both Lucy and her son.

…

With a small bag, Ona returned to the kitchen, Oliver trailing close behind. He carried something in his hands too, holding it carefully like a prized treasure.

“Happy birthday mommy,” Oliver exclaimed, marching over to Lucy. He held up a colorful drawing and a necklace made of Hama beads, the little plastic pieces strung on a string in a colorful, lopsided design.

“For you,” he announced proudly, setting them on the table in front of her.

Lucy smiled as she picked up the necklace. “Wow, Ollie, very pretty. Did you make this all by yourself?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically. “And the drawing too. It’s us playing football and Nela is there.” He pointed out the dog in the corner of the crayon-colored pitch.

“That’s a beautiful drawing Ollie, and the necklace too, lets see how it looks on me.” Lucy said, putting the necklace on with exaggerated care. “What do you think, mamá?’’ she smiled at Ona, ‘’Does it suit me?”

Ona leaned over, brushing her lips against Lucy’s temple. “It suits you perfectly,” she said with a soft chuckle, ruffling Oliver’s hair. ‘’You did a good job.’’

“And there’s more!” Oliver said, bouncing in place as Ona placed a wrapped box on the table. ‘’Mama has a present too.’’

“Ábrelo, Mommy!” Lucas clapped his hands excitedly.

Lucy chuckled and opened the gift carefully, revealing a sleek new watch inside. She looked at her family with a big smile. “Woahh, what’s that?” She asked as she held the watch up to show her sons.

‘’Ohh un reloj.’’ Oliver said, in awe.

“Do you like it?” Ona asked, watching her wife’s expression closely.

“I love it,” Lucy said, already slipping it onto her wrist. She reached out to pull Ona into a hug. “Thank you love, its beautiful.”

‘’I’m happy you like it,’’ Ona smiled, ‘’and you will get the other presents tomorrow.’’

…

They were finishing breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"Who is that?" Lucas yelled excitedly, sliding off his chair and dashing toward the door.

The heavy door creaked open as Lucas stood on his tiptoes to reach the handle. "Sophia!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around one of her legs before she had even fully stepped inside.

Sophia, took the little boy on her hip. When she stepped in to the kitchen with him she grinned, entirely unfazed by the scene before her. Since moving to Spain permanently and sharing Ona’s PA duties with another assistant, she had become a fixture in their lives. She was no stranger in navigating the chaos of the little family she adored so much.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?” she teased, her gaze sweeping over the kitchen. "What kind of special day is this, cariño?" she said to Lucas as she set him down. "You’re the only one who’s dressed."

At the table, Oliver froze mid-bite of his toast. Realizing he was still in his pajamas, he bolted upstairs before Ona could even open her mouth.

“You should come by every morning, Soph,” Ona said with a smirk, watching Oliver’s retreating figure.

Sophia smiled, “you know I’d happily help you guys with the boys every day, they’re adorable.”

Lucy, tipping back the last of her juice, gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry for the mess."

Sophia waved her off. “Don’t worry. How about I take the boys to school today? That way, you two can clean up and maybe even get dressed properly.”

Lucy and Ona exchanged a look of gratitude.

“That would be perfect,” Lucy said sincerely. “Thank you, Soph.”

“You always know how to make our life easier,” Ona added.

Sophia chuckled, brushing off their thanks. “Oh, and happy birthday, Lucy. I’ll bring your present tomorrow.”

Lucas tugged on Sophia’s hand, already babbling about school to her as she let herself be pulled toward the hallway to help him with his shoes and jacket.

Meanwhile, Ona and Lucy scrambled to pack the boys’ backpacks, just as Oliver reappeared downstairs, his hair still a mess.

"Did you remember to brush your teeth, Ollie?" Lucy asked, pulling a comb and hair gel from the cabinet.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded earnestly.

“Good job,” Lucy said, pulling out a chair and patting the seat. "Now, come here. Let me fix that hair."

Oliver groaned but obediently climbed onto the chair, resigned to his fate.

…

As the front door clicked shut behind Sophia and the boys, a rare silence fell over the house.

“So,” Lucy said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “We’ve got about thirty minutes.”

“And I already cleaned the table and the kitchen,” Ona replied, gesturing toward the spotless room.

Lucy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Think we can squeeze in a shower together?"

Ona’s grin mirrored her wife’s. "I was hoping you’d say that."

Together, they headed up the stairs. They’d barely made it to their room when the unmistakable ring of a phone broke the mood.

"Yours or mine?" Lucy asked, frowning, glancing at Ona.

"No idea. I’ll check, it might be Sophia."

Ona walked back to the kitchen and picked up Lucy’s phone. A moment later, she returned with a sheepish look. “It’s your mom.” She silently spoke.

Lucy groaned but took the phone, mouthing a silent apology before answering.

…

"Yes, Mum," Lucy said for the tenth time, pacing the room. “I’ll be there for pickup at exactly four fifteen.”

Her gaze darted to the bathroom where Ona was already in the shower. "No, no, mum, she can’t come with us. She has to—" Lucy’s words faltered as Ona turned, soaping her chest with deliberate slowness. "Yes, she has to pick up the boys.”

"Yes, yes, they’re fine. We called yesterday, remember? They’re really loving school," she continued distractedly.

Finally, Lucy sighed. "Mum, I’ve got to go. Love you too. Yes, bye. Bye." She hung up, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Fucking finally,” she muttered, tossing her phone onto the bed. Without wasting another second, she stripped off her t-shirt and boxers, let her hair tumble free from its elastic, and placed her new watch carefully on the sink counter.

“There you are,” Ona teased from under the spray of the shower.

Lucy stepped inside, turning on her side of the water. "Guess it’s gonna be tonight, huh? Five minutes won’t cut it and I don’t want to be hot and bothered all day."

Ona chuckled. "Tonight, I promise. We’ll make up for it."

Lucy smiled softly. "I love you, babe. Loved that you tried, though.’’ She laughed, ‘’the kids will get older eventually. At my 50th birthday, maybe we’ll finally-"

"Don’t talk about that," Ona interrupted, leaning in to kiss her. "They’re growing fast enough as it is."

"True," Lucy replied, her tone lighter. "But I won’t miss the bed-wetting phase."

“He’ll be fully potty-trained soon,” Ona reassured her.

"Yeah, he’s doing so well," Lucy said, her voice soft with emotion. A sudden wave of sentiment welled up in her, and she shook her head with a small laugh. "Ugh, birthday emotions. Damn, they’ve come early this year."

Ona kissed her forehead with a quiet chuckle. "I think it’s sweet."

Lucy wrapped her arms around her wife, pulling her close. "I just... I love how everything’s turned out. I could’ve never imagined meeting the love of my life that random summer day in London. But when you walked into my gym, I knew you were special."

“You always say that,” Ona said, resting her head against Lucy’s chest. "But I wasn’t exactly kind to you at first."

"Yeah, but you also told me I was fit, didn’t you?"

Ona laughed softly. "Physically, sure. I thought you were incredible. But I also thought you were a little annoying."

Lucy smirked. "And I thought you were a stuck-up bitch."

Ona laughed harder, her voice vibrating against Lucy. "Oh, how I love it when you bring up those first memories."

"Well, those are only the very first ones," Lucy quipped. "I tamed you pretty quickly, didn’t I?"

Ona gasped, feigning offense as she tilted her head back to look at Lucy. "Tamed!?"

Lucy grinned, running her fingers through Ona’s wet hair. "Oh, I don’t know. I think I worked my magic pretty fast."

"Magic" Ona scoffed, her cheeks flushing under the warm spray. "You just blackmailed me with sex."

"Sure, sure," Lucy teased, leaning in to press a kiss against Ona's lips. "But it worked so well that you ended up falling for me.’’

Ona rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. "Good sex is one thing, being amazing is another. I fell in love with all of Lucy Bronze, not just the physical bits."

"Mm-hmm," Lucy said, pulling her closer. "And look at us now. Two kids, a little doggie, all our friends and family, I wouldn’t trade my life for anything."

Ona softened, brushing her thumb over Lucy’s cheek. "Neither would I. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible."

Lucy leaned in again, their foreheads touching as the moment stretched out between them. The sound of water filled the silence.

Then the faint rumble of a car pulling up broke their moment. Lucy sighed, leaning her head against Ona’s shoulder.

"She’s back, isn’t she?" Lucy muttered, her tone half-annoyed.

"That’s Sophia for you," Ona replied, giving Lucy a quick kiss before turning off her side of the shower. "She’s quick."

…

Barcelona Airport – 16:17

Lucy stood near the arrivals gate, scanning the small crowd of passengers coming through one by one.

After a few more minutes, her parents appeared together. Her mom with her neatly trimmed bob and her dad with his jacket casually draped over one arm. It was very them, and in that moment, Lucy felt a rush of emotion for the second time this morning. She had missed them so much. She was so blessed her parents where still fit and able to come over to Spain for her birthday.

With a big smile she waved them over.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

“Lucy!” Diane beamed, quickening her step for a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you in person. Happy birthday honey.”

´´Hi mom, missed you.´´ Lucy said, breathing in her mothers scent.

Joaquim followed close behind, pulling Lucy into an embrace after Diane had let her go. ´´Happy birthday Lucy.´´

“Thank you. Good to see you, Dad,” Lucy said, kissing him on the cheek, and taking their suitcase. “Come on, the car’s not far. Let’s get you two home.”

Minutes later Lucy had her parents settled in the car.

The highway stretched out in front of them as Lucy guided the car smoothly onto the open road. Diane sat in the front passenger seat, while Joaquim had settled in the back.

“How was the flight?” Lucy asked, glancing at her mom.

“Not bad,” Diane replied. “Well, I think it took long enough, but everything went smooth.’’

“Oh, it was fine,” Joaquim chimed in. “Taking off, blinking a couple of times, landing again. In twenty-thirty-two travelling is luckily very easy, and otherwise we would’ve never let you move here.” He added jokingly.

Lucy chuckled. “Well, I’m glad things where good, and now you’re here. The boys are going to be thrilled when they see you.”

“Can’t wait,” Joaquim said, leaning forward slightly. “They must’ve grown so much since last time we saw them.”

“They have,” Lucy said, smiling. “and Lucas is getting really chatty. He’s full of stories about school and what he’s learning. God, he has all these questions, I’m sure he will ask you guys many many questions too.’’ She chuckled at the thought.

‘’Adorable.’’ Diane smiled, looking at the road, ‘’and Ollie?’’

Lucy grinned, ‘’Oliver is still Oliver,´´ she shrugged, ´´he’s a smart boy, but he’s also getting a little cheeky.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Diane said, giving Lucy a knowing look.

“Definitely his grandparents,” Lucy replied dryly.

All three of them chuckled.

“So, how are the gyms going?” Diane asked after a couple minutes of silence, shifting in her seat to look at Lucy properly.

“Really well,” Lucy said. “We’ve had steady growth, and I’ve added a couple more trainers to the team. It’s been busy, but a good kind of busy.”

“That’s fantastic, love. You’ve worked so hard for it,” Diane said warmly. “And how’s Ona handling everything?”

“She’s good,” Lucy said. “Her schedule’s always a bit hectic, but it’s much more manageable now that she is outsourcing things more and more. Last month she’s actually been home a lot more, which is nice.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Joaquim said. “It sounds like things are good.”

“Honestly, I feel so blessed,” Lucy admitted. “I had never imagined my life turning out so perfect.” She looked over at her mom for a second, ‘’mom, had you ever thought?’’ She looked at her dad in rear view mirror, ‘’dad?’’ She looked back at the road, ‘’sometimes I cant even believe that its all real.’’

Her mom smiled, laying her hand on Lucy’s thigh. ‘’its real darling, and you deserve it.’’

Her dad laid his hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing, ‘’and we’re proud of you.’’

A comfortable silence fell. They where halfway through the drive, with about twenty five minutes left until they’d reach the house.

As the drive continued, Lucy glanced at her mom. “So, I was thinking for tonight… instead of going out to a restaurant, we could just order something in and eat at home. You’re probably tired after the flight, and this way we can actually relax and catch up properly.”

“Mhm sure, that sounds perfect,” Diane said without hesitation.

“Great,” Lucy said, relieved. “I’ll make sure we get something good.”

She hesitated briefly before adding, “Oh, and one more thing—the boys were wondering if they could stay with you in the guesthouse tonight, because they missed you two so much, but no pressure. It’s totally up to you.”

Diane’s face softened. “Oh, I’d love that. Wouldn’t you, Joaquim?”

“Of course,” he said. “I have earplugs in my toiletry bag, so if they’re as chatty as you said I’ll still be fine.”

“Good,” Lucy said, laughing. “But seriously, if it’s too much after traveling, don’t worry about it. They’ll be fine in the main house.”

“No, it’ll be lovely,” Diane insisted. “We’ll figure it out when we see them.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 17:24

As Lucy turned onto the driveway, she noticed all the cars neatly parked in their spots. She had expected it, but the sight confirmed it—Ona and the boys were home. Earlier that afternoon, she had arranged the cars with tomorrow’s party in mind, leaving plenty of space for guests.

The party would be held inside. Even in Catalunya, October evenings could be chilly, especially for a gathering that would go late into the night. Tomorrow was the big celebration, the main thing was a cozy dinner with their friends and family to mark Lucy’s 41st birthday.

Most of the preparations had been completed earlier that day, much to Lucy’s relief. Tonight, they could just relax and catch up with her parents. The only thing left was the arrival of the caterers in the morning with the cake, food, snacks, and drinks. But for now, everything was ready.

As Lucy stepped out of the car, the villa’s front door opened. A little boy came sprinting toward them in his socks, while a slightly bigger boy lingered in the doorway, peeking shyly from behind his mama.

“Nana!” Lucas called out excitedly, his voice carrying across the driveway. “Grandpa!”

Lucy smiled, her heart swelling at the sight of her youngest. His joy was so bright it could melt anyone’s heart. Behind him, Oliver gave a small wave but didn’t step forward, still half-hidden behind Ona’s leg.

“Ahh, look at you.” Diane said warmly, leaning down to catch Lucas as he barreled into her arms.

Joaquim stepped out of the back seat, his face lighting up at the sight of his grandson. “Well, do I get a hug too?” he teased, earning a giggle from Lucas, who darted over to him for an embrace.

In the doorway, Ona gave Lucy a soft smile, holding Oliver’s hand as she whispered something to him.

After a moment, Oliver finally stepped out, timidly making his way over to Lucy.

“Come here, Ollie,” Lucy said gently, smiling as she crouched down with her arms open. Her eldest was so different from his brother, he could be very shy.

Oliver walked over, arms out, and Lucy scooped him onto her hip. “Do you remember Grandma and Grandpa?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Oliver’s gaze stayed fixed on Lucas, who was eagerly chatting with his grandparents, recounting something that had happened at school.

“Grandma and Grandpa from England,” Lucy added softly. “They’re my mom and dad.”

That made Oliver look up at her with a silly smile. “I know that, Mom,” he said with a hint of sass, and Lucy swore she caught the beginnings of an eye roll.

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled. “Well, why are you so shy, then?”

Oliver shrugged, staying quiet for a moment, “Did they go on a plane?”

Lucy laughed. “Mhm, they did.” She carefully set him back down. “Why don’t you ask them how the flight was?”

Oliver turned and pressed his face against her legs, clinging tightly.

“Okay, you don’t have to,” Lucy said with a soft laugh. “Here, help me with the suitcase instead. Can you open the trunk?”

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 18:58

After catching up over drinks on the couch and deciding what everyone wanted for dinner, they placed their order. It would arrive around 19:30, leaving them with some time to settle Diane and Joaquim into the guesthouse. The small house on the property was perfect for family visits, with two rooms. The room they had made ready was the one with a double bed and a pull-out couch.

After everyone put their shoes on Lucy led the way to the guesthouse, pulling the big suitcase. Lucas ran ahead, with Oliver trailing close behind, clearly excited about staying with their grandparents. By now Oliver had warmed up to his grandparents, it always took just a bit of time.

Inside, Diane and Joaquim got to unpacking their suitcase. Joaquim had already hung up a few shirts, while Diane set their toiletries in the bathroom. They where staying over for a week.

“You’ve got everything you need here,” Lucy said, pointing at a stack of fresh towels in the cabin. “But extra towels or blankets for if it gets chilly, are in the closet in the livingroom, I’ve put the heat on now, in the evening it automatically goes down, tomorrow morning it goes up again.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Diane said, giving Lucy a warm smile. “This place is so lovely, its always a joy to stay over.”

Lucy glanced at the pull-out couch in the room, where Ona was helping Lucas tug off the cushions. “Let’s get this ready for you boys,” she said, stepping in to help.

Lucas and Oliver hovered nearby, clearly more interested in jumping on the pillows than helping. “I want this side.” Lucas declared, pointing to the end closest to the nightstand.

Oliver crossed his arms. “That’s where I was gonna sleep!”

“Boys,” Lucy said with a silent chuckle, thinking back to her own childhood, kneeling down to pull the couch into a bed. “If you want this to work, you’re going to have to figure it out. Otherwise, no one sleeps here.”

´´I´m the oldest,´´ Oliver said, challenging Lucas.

“Fine,” Lucas said quickly, backing down as he glanced at his moms. “You can have it, but when I am older I can choose too.”

Oliver smirked, ´´yes´´.

“Unbelievable,” Ona murmured with a smile, helping Lucy spread out the fitted sheet.

The boys’ excitement was contagious, their chatter filling the room. “Mom, remember when we all had to share a bed at a hotel?” Lucas asked.

“I do,” Lucy said, smoothing the top sheet. “It almost didn’t fit, you nearly kicked me off the bed.”

Lucas giggled. “That was Oliver, not me.”

“Right,” Lucy said with a smile, before turning slightly more serious, “Well, I hope you two will be on your best behaviour, otherwise mama and I will put you right back in your own rooms, grandma and grandpa had a long day, so they need good sleep tonight.´´

´´Ollie? Lucas?’’

The two boys looked up at her. ‘’Sí, prometido.’’

"Bé, bé, fills meus." Ona smiled warmly. "La mama està orgullosa de vosaltres."

‘’If they make the promise true, that is.’’ Lucy added semi-jokingly.

Diane smiled at the scene. “It’ll be fine, Lucy,” she assured her daughter.

“I know,” Lucy said, tucking in the corners of the blanket. “But just put Lucas down about half an hour before Oliver. So he will already be asleep, and Oliver won’t have to deal with him wiggling around.”

Diane nodded. “Mhm, we´ll put Lucas first.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said, stepping back to admire the made bed. “You two are going to have so much fun staying with nana and grandpa, right?”

“Síí, fiesta de pijamas!” Lucas said enthusiastically, hopping onto the pull out couch bed.

Oliver gave a more measured nod, but the small smile on his face showed he was just as excited.

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 21:04

After dinner, the family had moved from the dining table to the TV room for dessert.

This afternoon, Ona hadn’t been able to resist stopping at a bakery on the way back from school. Tomorrow there would be a proper birthday cake, but Ona had decided Lucy deserved something special on the day itself too. The boys had eagerly chosen a small chocolate cake, glossy with chocolate glaze and topped with a bright red cherry.

Lucy blew out the little gold candle Ona had placed on it. The boys cheered, urging their mom to make a wish.

Lucy glanced at her little family, and wished that things could stay this good forever. Smiling, she pressed a kiss to the side of Ona’s head before taking the knife Ona handed her.

Joaquim and Ona sipped glasses of wine, Diane enjoyed a cup of tea, and Lucy held a beer, even though it wasn’t exactly the temperature for it. The boys sat on little stools at the coffee table to minimize the chances of a chocolate catastrophe, while Lucy’s parents had settled into armchairs. Ona and Lucy had claimed the sofa, where Ona laid nestled against Lucy’s chest. Lucy had an arm draped around her wife, her other hand occasionally lifting her beer for a sip. One of Ona’s hands rested lightly on the inside of her knee.

Lucy felt happy, happy spending an evening with the people she loved most in the whole world. It was a perfect birthday.

The boys finished their cakes with sticky fingers and satisfied smiles. “Are we going to play a board game now?” Ollie asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up as Lucas immediately chimed in with enthusiasm.

“Oh, no, no,” Ona and Lucy said in unison, both chuckling.

“It’s way too late for that,” Lucy added. “We have to brush our teeth and get into our pajamas,” she said lazily, making no effort to follow through getting up from the couch.

The boys groaned in unison, dragging out the whines for effect.

Ona smiled amuzed at her wife, but to be honest she didn’t really feel like getting up either. “You two, first go in the kitchen to wash your hands, then go upstairs, put on your pajamas, and bring your toothbrushes down with you. Let’s go. Chop, chop.”

Lucas tilted his head in confusion, looking at Lucy. “My pj is in the laundry,” he said. “I need a new one..”

Lucy sighed, raising her beer for one last sip before setting it down. “He’s right,” she said.

Ona dropped her head with an exaggerated groan, she was just getting comfy. “Okay, okay. I’ll come up in a second, I’ll help,” she said, waving the boys toward the stairs. “You two go ahead. I’ll get it for you Lucas.”

Reluctantly, the boys shuffled off, Lucas muttering something incohearant while Oliver took his sweet time following behind, first stacking all the little plates.

‘’We’ll help em.’’ Diane said, chuckling at the two moms who where gathering courage to stand up.

‘’We?’’ Joaquim asked surprised.

‘’Or just me, if you don’t want to’’ Diane nonchalantly said, standing up. ‘’Come on, it will be fun. Nostalgic.’’

‘’Mom, you don’t need to.’’ Lucy said, ‘’Ona and I will do it, they’re-

‘’No, no, none of that.’’ Lucy’s mom said, holding a hand out for her husband, ‘’we hardly get to see them.’’

‘’Well, okay.’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’if you need help just call down.’’

‘’Raising you prepared us well enough,’’ Joaquim joked, ‘’we will manage.’’

The two grandparents disapeared to the hall.

Ona nestled herself further against Lucy. ‘’hmm, maybe your parents can come over more often.’’

Lucy chuckled, kissing the top of Ona’s head. ‘’I hope they make a good night.’’

‘’They will,’’ Ona leaned back slightly, facing Lucy.

‘’Mmm,’’ Lucy licked her lips, ‘´I really hope so.’’

Ona leaned in pecking a soft kiss to Lucy’s lips.

Lucy answered the kiss, her hand coming up to cup Ona’s head.

‘’it was a nice surprise,’’ Lucy said breaking the kiss, ‘’the desert.’’

‘’Yeah, couldn’t resist.’’ Ona chuckled, ‘´I let the boys choose because I know they have the same taste u have.’’

‘’Mhmm, love me a chocolate cake.’’ She took Ona’s hand, her thumb tracing the weddingring there, ‘’this reminds me of this morning,’’ she looked up at Ona, ‘’d’you know what Lucas said?’’ she smiled, ‘’did you hear it? It was while you where making breakfast.’’

‘’No.’’ Ona laughed, suspecting something funny, ‘’what did he say?’’

‘’It was so cute, he was whispering to me like it was a secret,’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’Yo amo a mamá.’’ She reenacted her sons whisper.

Ona smiled, ‘’why did he say that?’’

‘’Oh it was when I was acting I was going to eat him, then he said I didn’t have to do that, because mama was making breakfast.’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’then I said, yes mama is the best, isnt she? And then he was silent for a bit, like really thinking, I saw the gears grinding in his little head and then he said ’yo amo a mamá,’´ she chuckled, ´´I love these ages so much,’’ She said to Ona, ‘’now that they’re really thinking about stuff.’’

‘’Yeah its cute,’’ Ona smiled, ‘’and I love how you talk about me to the kids.’’

Lucy smiled, ‘’ofcourse, oh and you want to hear something else that was funny, Oliver is showing Nela video’s of womens football to try and get her to play with him.’’

‘’Really?’’ Ona chuckled, ‘´Les dejamos ver demasiados dibujos.’’ (we let them watch to many cartoons)

‘’Ah it’s just children's fantasy, he will grow out of it, for now im happy he lives in a world where that is his biggest mision,’’ Lucy smiled, pulling her wife closer against her again.

…

Lucy and Ona’s villa – 21:48

“Grandpa took his teeth out!” Oliver came running toward the couch, his face lit up with wonder and excitement. Lucy quickly set Ona’s glass aside for her.

“His teeth?” Ona asked, chuckling.

Oliver scrambled up onto the couch and into his moms’ laps, giggling. “Grandpa took his teeth out, tiene dientes de mentira.”

Lucy laughed, wrapping her arms around her oldest son in a bear hug. “Did everything go well up there? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said casually. “I came down because I’ve seen his drawings a thousand times.”

“Lucas is showing his drawings?” Ona asked, turning herself towards Lucy and their son.

“Yup.” Oliver blinked sleepily as Ona smoothed a hand over his hair. “Can Nela sleep over in the house too?”

Hearing her name, the dog wandered over.

“Hmm, we’ll ask Grandma and Grandpa,” Ona said, leaning in to kiss Oliver’s forehead. “But if they’d rather not, Nela will just sleep in her own bed.”

Oliver smiled, “but if they say yes, he can come?”

“She,” Lucy corrected gently, “and yes, if they agree, then it’s okay.”

“Are you coming to sleep at the house too?” Oliver asked, fiddling with Ona’s necklace. “and Mom?”

“No,” Lucy replied, brushing back a strand of his hair. “It’s just for you, Lucas, Grandma, and Grandpa, it´s a special sleepover.”

“And Canela.”

“Maybe Canela,” Ona said with a soft smile. “If they don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind?” Oliver asked, tilting his head.

“If they agree,” Lucy explained.

“I’ll go ask!” Oliver said, suddenly trying to wriggle free from Lucy’s arms.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lucy said, holding onto him.

Oliver stilled, turning to look at her, questioning.

“Let’s wait until they’re back down,” Lucy said calmly.

“Mom will ask, okay?” Ona added. “Or Mama.”

The boy let out a dramatic huff but nodded. “Okay.’’ He wiggled again. ‘’But let me go.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucy asked, tilting her head at him.

“Pet Nela,” Oliver declared.

‘’Mkay.’’ Lucy smiled, letting him go.

Ollie slid off the couch and padded over to the patiently waiting dog.

…

Guesthouse – 22:36

The dog, of course, was allowed to stay at the guesthouse too, as grandma could never say no to her grandson. Lucy and Ona had walked along to the guesthouse to make sure the boys settled in comfortably. Oliver had brought a card game, and Lucas had chosen a book he wanted to be read from.

Lucy had made sure to leave the iPad in the livingroom of the guesthouse, reminding Oliver that if he woke up early, he could use it in the living room without waking Lucas or his grandparents. It was something they aggreed with him, after Oliver had spent a full week climbing into their bed at the crack of dawn because ‘he couldn’t sleep anymore’.

They had all gathered around the pull-out couch as Diane read the book aloud. It had originally been just for Lucas, but Ollie had climbed into bed too, at Ona’s suggestion. As expected, both boys had quickly drifted off.

After a short chat with Joaquim and Diane, who were just as tired and planned to read a little before heading to bed, Ona and Lucy made their way back to the main house. Lucy had reassured her parents multiple times that they should call or come by if anything was wrong.

The cold air greeted them as they stepped outside, and Lucy instinctively wrapped an arm around her wife. She pulled Ona close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Love you,” she murmured softly.

Ona chuckled. “Mmm, are you about to get all romantic on me?”

Lucy smirked and moved behind Ona, draping herself over her as they walked. She rested her chin in the crook of Ona’s neck. “Mhm. Gonna put on some music...” she whispered, placing a kiss on Ona’s neck. “Turn on the nice lighting...” another kiss followed. “Maybe we’ll even dance a little...” she murmered, holding Ona’s hip and tugging her a bit closer.

Ona giggled, her wife’s antics could still make her feel giddy like the first times they where together.

‘’Come.’’ Lucy said, placing one last kiss to the side of Ona’s face before stepping besides her again, jokingly slapping her ass a couple of times. ‘’lets get inside.’’ 

…

As promised Lucy had put some music on. Her and Ona held eachother while the soft sounds of a romantic song filled their bedroom.

Lucy’s hands rested low on Ona’s hips, fingers tracing paterns softly. She dipped her head, brushing her lips against Ona’s ear. “Pick up where we left off this morning?” Lucy murmured.

Ona smiled, tilting her head to meet Lucy’s gaze. “I’ve actually been thinking about something.”

“Oh yeah?’’ Lucy raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile forming on her lips. ‘’What’s on your mind?” She asked, thinking maybe Ona had fantasized about a new position or something.

“Do you remember what you said in the shower?” Ona asked, her voice sly, wearing a small smirk on her lips. “About how you won me over with good sex?”

Lucy grinned, a low chuckle escaping her. “Mhm, I remember our fun little hate dynamic thing we had going on back then.”

Ona rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “It wasn’t hate, but sure,” she said lightly. “Anyway, for some reason I was thinking back about that one night, when you shoved that blouse in my mouth.” She paused, watching Lucy’s eyes darken. “Remember? when u did those makeshift cuffs from your belt... that night was...  something else.’’

‘’Mhm, I remember.’’ Lucy nodded, biting her lip. She observerd Ona attentively, questioning where Ona was going with this.

Ona played with the collar of Lucy’s shirt, ‘’What was it, like eight years ago?”

Lucy leaned back slightly, mock offense on her face, “are you really saying I haven’t done anything like that since?”

Ona laughed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on Lucy’s chest. “You still bring it sometimes, don’t get me wrong,” she said, her tone teasing. “But I’m talking about that energy you had back then” She pressed closer, her lips brushing under Lucy’s jaw. “Especially like that night” her voice dropped slightly, her breath felt warm against Lucy’s skin. “That was a good night.” She pressed a kiss there, then another lower. “And I love how sweet you are to me now,” another kiss, slower this time, “but I’ve just been thinking about it a little bit today.”

Lucy huffed a small laugh, her hands sliding down Ona’s back. “I like making love to you better now. You’re my wife.” Pulling Ona closer with her hands on her ass.

“I can rile you up,” Ona whispered, her hands slipping under Lucy’s shirt, nails dragging lightly along her skin.

Lucy smirked, tilting her head to look down at Ona. “Oh yeah? How will you rile me up?” Her tone was playful, “You can cook now. You gave birth to our beautiful kids. You’re perfect.”

Ona rolled her eyes and leaned in close to Lucy. "Maybe I'll reveal what more I bought you for your birthday." She whispered.

Lucy chuckled, her hands sliding up Ona's sides before resting on her hips. "Ona," she murmured, her lips brushing over her wife's jawline, "let me just make you feel good, baby."

Ona tilted her head, her smirk teasing as her fingers toyed with the hem of Lucy’s shirt. She hooked her fingers behind Lucy’s belt, tugging her closer. "Or," she purred, drawing the word out, "maybe you won’t be so shocked anymore… because you’ve become just as much of a snob as I am?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. Without a word, she gripped Ona’s thighs and lifted her, pressing her firmly against the wall. The gasp Ona let out went into a breathless laugh.

"Oh you’re really after it, aren’t you, ma’am?" Lucy chuckled.

Ona’s mouth opened, ready to talk back, but Lucy didn’t give her the chance. Their lips crashed together in an urgent kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance as their hands moved hurriedly.

Fingers tugged at shirts, plucked at buttons, peeled away fabric until they stood naked, except for the jewelry they had on.

Lucy guided them to the bed, their lips never breaking apart while she lowered Ona gently onto the mattress.

Ona grinned against Lucy’s mouth, her voice sounded breathy as her hands roamed Lucy’s lower back. “There she is,” she murmured teasingly. “There’s my woman.”

Lucy hummed, her lips grazing the curve of Ona’s neck. “Oh, I was here all along, baby,” she whispered. “But keep talking, I love it when you try to be a brat.” She shifted back onto her knees, pulling Ona’s thighs over her hips as her hands began to trace the length of her wife’s legs.

Her gaze was locked on Ona’s face, taking in the flush that colored her skin.

After a moment Lucy shifted again. She leaned down, pressing slow kisses along Ona’s thigh, taking her time. Her lips lingered, her warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. "Still want to drag this out?" Lucy murmured, her voice sounding teasing as she reached the sensitive dip below Ona’s hipbone.

Ona arched slightly, her breathing uneven. "Yes," she whispered, but her tone betrayed her anticipation, the need building in her voice.

Lucy chuckled, the sound low and throaty, as her fingers slid along Ona’s sides, her touch was featherlight. She loved the effect she had on her wife.

Her hands gripped Ona’s hips, holding her down as she kissed her way lower. "You’re so perfect," Lucy murmured between kisses.

She leaned back for a moment, just to admire her. Watching the way her chest rose and fell, the want in her gaze. "I could look at you like this forever."

Ona bit on her finger, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Babe," she teased, her voice was playful but a little unsteady. "You’re getting soppy again."

Lucy tilted her head, grinning as she leaned in to press a kiss to Ona’s collarbone. "What, I can’t compliment my wife now?" she teased acting mock-offended. She paused, hovering over Ona with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don’t you think I decide that?"

Ona’s fingers tangled in Lucy’s hair, tugging her closer, guiding her toward her chest. "Please, Luce decide whatever you want, but just fuck me," she said impatiently.

‘’I don’t understand baby.’’ Lucy smirked, her hands pinning Ona’s wrists above her head as she hovered over her again. ‘’You’re saying one thing and doing another?" she mused, ‘’do you want me to take controle or not?’’

"Luce," Ona groaned, squirming under her. "Do me."

Lucy bit her lip and shook her head amused. She kissed her way down Ona’s body again, teasingly slow.

Ona’s breath hitched as Lucy’s soft lips reached her stomach.

"Relax, baby," Lucy murmured against her skin, the warmth of her breath sending shivers along Ona’s spine. ‘’I’ll give you what you want.’’

Ona whimpered when Lucy finally dipped lower, her kisses moving to the inside of her thighs. Her thighs parted instinctively, her body was buzzing with anticipation.

Lucy’s tongue teased her, drawing a shaky gasp from Ona’s lips.

"Lucy," Ona whimpered, her fingers twisting in the sheets.

Lucy pulled back slightly. Ona saw her lips glistening as she smirked.

"Always taste so good," she murmured before diving back in, her hands gripping Ona’s thighs to keep her steady.

Ona writhed beneath her, unable to keep still as Lucy ate her pussy in a way that had never faltered in all their years together. She let her body relax on the matress, giving in to the pleasure.

After a few moments Ona’s breathing changed, telling Lucy she was close.

"Not yet," Lucy whispered. She kissed her way back up with open-mouthed kisses until she reached Ona’s neck. Her hands were everywhere. On Ona’s hips, her ribs, sliding along her sides, Lucy just wanted to feel her.

"Lucy," Ona tried, but her voice broke into a whimper as Lucy pressed a kiss just above her collarbone, her teeth grazing the skin lightly. She wanted to mark her wife. "Not in my neck," Ona managed to breathe out, shivering. Having just enough clarity to think about tomorrow’s party. "Luce-"

Lucy obeyed wordlessly, kissing down until her lips found a spot just below Ona’s nipple to mark instead, leaving a dark bruise behind.

She pulled back to admire her work, her gaze flicking up to meet Ona’s flushed face. "Perfect," she said softly.

Lucy placed a couple of soft kisses up to Ona’s face before pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. There was a beat of silence, charged with something unspoken as Lucy leaned in. They kissed, Lucy’s thigh pressing instinctively between Ona’s legs.

Ona hummed in response, her fingers digging into Lucy’s shoulders.

Breaking the kiss just enough to speak, Ona’s breath brushed over Lucy’s lips. “Your cock es lo único en lo que he pensado today.” she murmured, her tone sounding both begging and commanding. Her hands slid up, resting against Lucy’s chest as she pushed urging her to move. “I need you, Luce. Please, put it on for me.”

Lucy pulled back. “Need me?” she repeated. Her hands wandered down Ona’s sides, a deliberate slowness that made Ona squirm. “You’re being a little impatient, mamas.” She smirked.

Despite her teasing, Lucy shifted off the bed, the grin still on her face as she walked to the dresser. Ona propped herself up on her elbows, watching Lucy rummage through the drawer.

When Lucy turned back with the strap and lube in hand Ona’s breath hitched, her thighs pressing together. God, she had been waiting for this all day.

Lucy caught Ona’s gaze, she raised her eyebrow as she strapped the harness around her hips, tightening it with practiced ease. She smugly let Ona watch her. She knew she was good at sex, but especially wearing the strap always give her this special feeling. The way Ona gave herself to her.   

“Careful,” Lucy teased. “You’re drooling.”

Ona blush darkened but she didn’t look away, her eyes stayed glued to Lucy as she watched her coat the strap in lube. It was hot seeing Lucy run the thick rubber strap through her hands.

At the edge of the bed, Lucy grabbed Ona by her thighs, tugging her forward until she was perched right at the edge. Ona giggled softly, this was exactly the attitude she had been looking for.

“Luce…” Ona’s voice was barely a whisper now, thick with anticipation, her fingers digging in the bedspread.

Lucy cupped Ona’s cheek for a brief moment, before letting her thumb run over Ona’s bottom lip. Ona opened her mouth and let Lucy slip two fingers in. Ona made eyecontact with Lucy as she sucked on the digits before circling them with her tongue.

When Lucy was pleased with Ona’s work she let her fingers trail down, leaving a trail of Ona’s saliva behind before slipping between her legs.

As Lucy's fingers brushed against Ona’s heat, a smirk tugged at her lips. Their eyes stayed locked, and Ona knew exactly what that smirk meant. Lucy didn’t have to say a word, Ona could hear it in her head. But still her cheeks flushed deeper, because she was really wet and they both knew Lucy was the reason.

Lucy curled two fingers inside, drawing a groan from Ona.

“Mhm, I know, baby,” Lucy murmured. She leaned on her elbow planted on the bed next to Ona’s shoulder, her hand below Ona’s neck. She liked being close to Ona like this.

When Ona’s hips began to buck against her hand, Lucy pulled back. “So greedy,” she chuckled, reaching down to guide the strap to Ona’s entrance. ‘’I’ll give you more don’t worry.’’

Lucy pushed the strap in slowly, watching the way Ona’s lips parted.

Ona’s head fell back as she adjusted to the stretch. This was her favourite strap, it was a bit softer then their other straps.

‘’Mh fuck,’’ Ona breathed as Lucy started moving, she reached to cup her own chest.

“There we go,” Lucy muttered, “always so good for me.”

Lucy’s hips thrusted setting a steady rhythm. The wet sounds and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin blended with the soft music playing in the background, joined by Ona’s moans, and the praises Lucy murmured between thrusts.

Ona’s body arched into her, her legs trembling as Lucy’s hands gripped her thighs.

Lucy shifted, lifting Ona’s legs over her shoulders. She wanted more, she wanted to fill Ona deeper.

"You feel so good," Lucy whispered, gripping Ona’s hips, leaning into Ona so her calves where flush against her chest.

Ona moaned as the new angle made Lucy hit that sweet spot again and again, her nails dug into the back of her own thighs. "More," Ona pleaded.

Lucy obliged, gripping Ona's waist to pull her closer as she sank the strap into her all the way to the base with every thrust.

Ona’s moans turned into broken whines as she teetered on the edge of release.

"That’s it," Lucy whispered, her voice hoarse from effort. "Let it go baby."

Ona came with a shuddering gasp, her body clenching around the strap.

Lucy slowed, helping Ona ride out her orgasm.

"Fucking beautiful," Lucy murmured, she let Ona’s legs down gently and leaned in, holding her close.

Lucy stayed there for a moment holding her hips still as she soothed Ona with gentle kisses until her breathing slowed.

She looked down at her wife with a satisfied smirk on her face. "You good, baby?"

Ona nodded, her eyes half-lidded.

Lucy’s lips brushed over Ona's damp skin, "I love you so much," she whispered.

All Ona could manage to let out was a hum.

After a moment, Lucy shifted, carefully pulling out. She reached down to unbuckle the harness, letting the strap fall to the floor with a thud and reached to the nightstand, putting off the music.

Her hands smoothed over Ona’s thighs.

Lucy smiled as Ona’s legs instinctively parted. She settled herself between her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh before sliding her hands under Ona’s hips, lifting her slightly. Ona’s slickness glistened as it caught the dimmed light. Lucy felt a flutter between her own legs as she caught the smell of her wife. She leaned in, her tongue running up Ona’s sensitive folds, lapping up her essence.

Ona let out a soft, breathy moan, her hands moving to tangle in Lucy's hair. "Luce," she whimpered.

"Shh," Lucy whispered against her, her voice vibrating against Ona’s core. ‘’You can give me one more, baby.’’

Lucy’s tongue circled Ona’s clit. Ona’s body reacted instantly, her hips twitching as a whimper escaped her throat.

It wasn’t long before Ona’s breathing became quicker, her grip in Lucy’s hair tightening as her legs quivered.

Lucy groaned against her. She latched onto her clit, sucking down as her hands tightened their hold on Ona’s thighs, keeping her in place.

"L-Luce," Ona gasped, her voice cracking as her body arched off the bed.

Lucy continued, wanting to bring Ona over the edge again, she knew Ona could take it.

It didn’t take long before Ona’s body tensed, her thighs clamping around Lucy’s head as she let out a shuddering cry, her second release crashing through her.

Lucy slowed as Ona rode out the aftershocks.

When Ona finally relaxed, Lucy pulled back slightly, pressing soft kisses to Ona’s inner thighs before crawling back up to meet her face.

"That’s my girl," Lucy murmured. She kissed Ona’s forehead, then her nose, then her lips, her hands brushing back the hair from Ona’s face. Ona smiled sleepily.

Lucy carefully maneuvered them both to the middle of the bed, her hands cupping Ona’s face for a moment.

Ona was a sight, she was completely undone but she looked glowing. Lucy leaned down, nuzzling her nose against Ona.

Ona pulled Lucy in for a kiss. "Cuddles," she whispered needily.

Lucy smiled into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Ona. "Ofcourse," she whispered back. She pulled Ona close, feeling her warmth against her. Lucy kissed Ona’s temple before resting her head back on the pillow.

A comfortable quiet settled between them. Lucy’s hand found Ona’s, lacing their fingers together, holding her with a softness that was reserved only for her wife.

Ona’s head nestled against Lucy’s chest, as she recovered from her orgasms.

Lucy kissed the top of her head, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Ona’s back.

"Can we just stay like this forever?" Ona mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She laid comfortably with her cheek against Lucy’s warm skin.

Lucy smiled, her fingers brushing up and down Ona’s back. “Wouldn’t mind that,” she murmured before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Ona’s head.

Ona’s hands began to wonder, tracing the lines along Lucy’s toned stomach. She shifted to kiss Lucy’s neck.

“You don’t have to, babe,” Lucy said quietly as Ona kissed down, now reaching her nipple. But her tone came out unconvincing as a shiver ran through her at Ona’s touch.

Ona didn’t reply. Instead she smiled and tilted her head up to press a kiss to Lucy’s lips, silencing any further protests.

Lucy relaxed beneath her as Ona trailed her lips down her jawline, then her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until she was at her hips. She guided Lucy’s legs apart, settling herself between them.

Lucy’s breath hitched when Ona’s lips brushed over a sensitive spot just below her hip, the featherlight touch sending a rush of heat through her.

Her fingers threaded through Ona’s hair, gathering it into a ponytail.

Ona glanced up meeting Lucy’s gaze. A blush colored Ona’s cheeks as she caught the look in Lucy’s eyes. Lucy could look at her so hungry but impossibly loving all at once. She loved that look, it always made her want to give Lucy everything she wanted.

She lowered herself again. After all these years she knew exactly what worked for Lucy. She knew Lucy’s body like her own.

With her tongue she sucked on Lucy’s clit as her fingers teased her entrance.

The hand in Ona’s hair tightened, silently urging her on.

Lucy spread her legs wider, giving Ona full access with her feet pressing flat against the mattress, knees falling open.

Lucy's soft groans filled the room, her chest rising and falling as pleasure coursed through her.

Ona’s free hand tightened on Lucy’s thigh as Lucy's body began to tense.

“Fuck, Ona” Lucy groaned, her voice cracking as her release washed over her. Her grip on Ona’s hair tightened as her body shuddered from coming undone.

Ona didn’t stop until Lucy gently urged her away. She kissed her way back up Lucy’s torso, lingering over every freckle and every curve of her wifes body until she reached her face.

Lucy cupped Ona’s cheek, pulling her into a slow kiss, their breaths mingling as they tasted themselves on eachothers tongue.

Settling back against the pillows, Lucy wrapped her arms around Ona, holding her close as their bodies relaxed in the afterglow.

They laid there quietly, looking in to eachothers eyes lovingly. God, Lucy felt still so in love with this women after all those years. Ona was the love of her life, every day she thanked the lucky stars that things had worked out like this.

..

After a couple of moments Lucy leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ona’s forehead before sliding out of bed. “Be right back, baby”

Ona watched her, one eyebrow raised. “where are you going?”

“Toilet,” Lucy said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

A minute later, Ona heard the sound of running water and rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “Are you running a bath?”

“Yeah,” Lucy called back, ‘’thought it could be a nice seal to this perfect day, or is it too late?’’

Ona nodded sleepily.

When Lucy came back after a moment, she walked over to the bed. “Do you want to have a bath with me?”

Ona groaned theatrically but swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m tired.”

Lucy laughed, ‘’do I need to carry you?’’

‘’No,’’ Ona chuckled as she walked towards their bathroom.

Lucy helped her into the warm water and climbed in after her, settling in between Ona and the tub so Ona could lean back against her.

Ona let out a long sigh as she relaxed her muscles.

“Good?” Lucy asked, her hands resting lightly on Ona’s thighs beneath the water.

“Mm-hmm,” Ona murmured. “Very good.”

“You’re very good,” Lucy joked, placing a kiss to Ona’s temple.

“What?” Ona chuckled, turning her head slightly to meet Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy gave a small shrug, brushing a damp strand of hair away from Ona’s face. “Just that I love you very much.”

Ona smiled, turning back to rest her head on Lucy’s shoulder. “I love you very much too.”

They sat quietly for a while, the only sound the splashing of water as one of them shifted slightly.

Eventually, Ona broke the silence.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Lucy pressed a kiss to the top of Ona’s head and smiled. “Yeah, it was perfect.’’ She hummed as she thought back, ‘’A great breakfast to start, the beautiful watch you gave me, that lunch Soph ordered’’ she smiled as she thought back to the kebabs they had, ‘’having my parents here for dinner, and a chocolate dessert that I’m still thinking about. The boys staying over at theirs is a nice little bonus.” She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping playfully. “But my favorite part was definitely the second dessert.’’

Ona hummed. “so a good day, eventhough you helped setting up your own party for tomorrow?”

“Ofcourse,” Lucy said. “I loved doing that with you and Soph, you two have done the most anyways, you have been planning it for weeks.”

“You make it sound like I planned some big event. It’s just dinner with our friends and family.”

Lucy smiled and kissed the side of Ona’s head. “Mhm, you’re not making me talk to random people, that’s exactly my kind of party.”

Ona smiled. ‘’I know you love small and low-key.”

“Mhm, and to be loved is to be known,” Lucy said, her hands running softly up and down Ona’s arms. “I feel very loved.”

“I am happy you had a good day,” Ona said, letting her head tilt back against Lucy again, ‘’and my favourite thing was definetly the second desert too.’’

…

When the water cooled, they climbed out, drying off quickly. Ona grabbed Lucy’s pyjama from this morning off the chair and slipped it on.

‘’Hey,’’ Lucy said acting offended, coming out of the bathroom too, ‘’what am I supposed to wear then? Your pj doesn’t fit me.’’ She mocked.

‘’You have more pj’s then this one,’’ Ona said, rolling her eyes but quickly getting in to bed because she knew she was being cheeky. She just felt like wearing Lucy’s pj from time to time, and she knew deep down Lucy didn’t mind.

Lucy pulled on some other pajama pants and a t-shirt, before also stepping in to bed.

Back in bed, Ona nestled against Lucy, her leg sliding between Lucy’s as she got comfortable.

“Hey,” Lucy said softly, brushing her hand along Ona’s back. “Thanks for everything today.”

“You’ve already said that,” Ona mumbled, her voice sleepy.

“I know. Just wanted to say it again.”

Ona smiled against Lucy’s skin. “You’re very welcome, Luce.”

Lucy pressed a kiss to Ona´s damp hair, ´´Night, my love.´´

´´Somnia’m, amor.´´

They laid in comfortable silence and Lucy felt Ona’s breathing slowing as she started to drift off.

Lucy closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Ona’s body against hers lull her to sleep too.

[lokh]

laishuroweek day 7 - roleswap

in this AU laios is still the main character. so which roles did they swap exactly? here they switch the backstories heir that ran from home -> heir that stayed back (and possibly unhappy about it)

extraordinarily long notes under the cut

shuro

overwhelmed by the pressure on him to succeed his father, shuro ran away when he was younger. he intended to come back, but various things happened (stowed away on a ship, ended up far away……) and he has to tough it out for a while. maybe he gets discovered on the ship and he's put to work. but maybe after a while he begins to appreciate this freedom that hes never had before, and like that he grows up outside his family's influence doing odd jobs and physical labor. he thinks 'just a little longer, just a little longer…' and before he knows it, years have passed. ends up at the dungeon working with various parties until laios shows up.

laios

laios ended up staying back, maybe at the last moment feeling guilt for leaving falin behind. a little more withdrawn than in canon, particularly when falin leaves to go to school. is trying to put off marrying his fiance and succeeding - finally convinces his father that before he becomes responsible for the village that he should try travelling and becoming more worldly, perhaps promising that he will bring back something that will be 'worth it'. rekindling his interest in monsters, he sails to kahka brud and then to the dungeon with falin (who he still visited and she either insisted on coming or simply stowed away lmao).

differences

this is fun because i think laios will still be interested in shuro, but in this setting would be more restrained and come off colder. he would come off as more 'leader-like', more like his father (though he would not like to be told this At All). in some ways this is good (keeping boundaries from eg party members trying to marry him), but in others maybe not so (less personable, less straightforward). but in an environment where he's finally away from his father, maybe his weirder side breaks through……. this is ultimately what catches shuro's attention, because who would have guessed that one of those uppity political types (first impression of laios) would have such a fervent and sincere interest in monsters……. (that's probably the other problem. in passing laios' interest in monsters may come off more sinister, a la kabru's thoughts on his alignment with monsters)

comparatively shuro would have had to adopt more of the north's mannerisms and culture (eg clothing). hes always going to be more reserved, that's his natural personality, but he might be more open and curious, but also more straightforward, as growing up around people outside the archipelago might have him adapt to their style of communication. shrewd and plays it close to the chest. would still get along with kabru, but i wonder if there might be some friction (position as odd one out growing up, now they're a bit too similar and his status isn't as clear cut). one valuable skill he brings to parties (besides his strength) is his ability to tell apart treasure insects from real treasure. i think also while hes still pretty powerful, his technique would be less polished as a result of leaving home so early, and his style would be more of a hodgepodge of things he picked up while travelling.

from the start of the narrative

after the total party wipe that gets falin eaten, they end up on the surface and to their surprise find shuro's retainers waiting for him. because of course they were able to track him down, that's their whole deal. shuro is totally shaken despite his inward assurances that he would go back eventually. they insist that he return with them and ultimately he goes. meanwhile, laios decides to head back into the dungeon for falin. things proceed more or less as in canon.

the fight

shuro eventually agreed to return to wa, on the condition that the retainers help him find falin. so when he shows up and finds laios' party, he's still hungry and tired. i don't think he blows up initially when laios tells him what they did to falin - his countenance is more grim, and he doesn't enthusiastically go on about the monsters they ate (though he wishes to). shuro is still unhappy about it (here, his focus is less on the trouble they could get with the authorities and more that the dungeon itself is mysterious and dangerous, and who knows what meddling with it with ancient magic would do) but he doesn't threaten laios with a sword lol. they discover chimera falin and they DO get in a fight, but the reasons change

in canon, shuro berates laios for his apparent thoughtlessness after he announces his plan of going after the mad sorcerer, and laios hits him first. in this scenario, laios brings up the possibility of going after the mad sorcerer, but ultimately capitulates to the idea of returning to the surface and informing the authorities instead of pursuing falin. shuro hits him first. he berates laios for his callousness, and then his indecisiveness and cowardice - how could he make the decision to use ancient magic, and then when faced with the consequences give up so easily and try to conform to his half-hearted belief in what they 'should' do? laios fights back, pissed that he thinks it was an easy decision to make. everything they've done down to eating and sleeping was decided because it was in their best interest to do, unlike shuro who apparently made his way back on impulse and without planning.

shuro then airs his true grievances about laios' character: he's sick of laios' mixed signals. laios is just as interested in shuro as in canon, but instead of pestering him constantly with questions, he just. stares. and it's really hard to tell whether he's angry with him or not when he's just glaring silently, but then he'll do something thoughtful like offer the spot closest to the fire when he notices shuro is cold, or takes over his watch for him because he knows he has trouble staying up and going back to sleep after second watch, etc. or once in a while he'll actually ask something, and then only reply with a terse nod. what the hell? and he's like that all the time, and shuro better observes it when he acts that way with other people. why won't he just make himself clear? laios gets mad because he'd been doing that out of consideration - he knows if he'd been too much that it would have put him off, and that he maintains a distance because that's what he's supposed to do. he was just excited to make his first friend and didn't want to screw it up.

they tire themselves out and shuro comes clean about liking falin and his feelings about what's happened. laios says that shuro was right about his indecisiveness, abandoning the idea of what he's supposed to do and deciding that they would go after the mad sorcerer after all, because above all else he has a responsibility to his sister. he says that falin deserves to hear shuro's feelings straight from him - but then adds, awkwardly, that he'll put in a good word for him. shuro says, 'that's what i envy about you' (his commitment to doing what he thinks is right even when it's tough or he doesn't want to). shuro decides that he'll return to wa, if only to clear the air and come to a decision on whether he'll pursue his father's position (if that's even a possibility still), and he gives laios the bell. his return is hindered when the elves show up, and you know the rest =p

the ship

i think laios would sometimes blurt out information he thinks shuro would find interesting, or randomly hand him things, and because of the way he acts normally shuro wouldn't know why he was doing it. falin or marcille would have to tell him later because falin had done the same thing. even in this universe shuro would be unbelievably frustrated and endeared by him.

in this position, shuro liking falin is actually more dangerous because there are less obstacles between them getting together LMAO, but i think because he's less sheltered in this setting, he's not as deeply enamoured. with laios, he sees a bit of how he could have ended up, but is charmed by those weird parts that break through despite it all

laios would also see shuro and think of how he could have ended up himself, if he'd really left all those years ago - sailing for distant lands and becoming something other than what he is, a mixture of cultures. in the end, those differences are still what initially draws laios to him................

i'm not sure where they go from here to be honest. does shuro decide to stay in wa? does he choose to keep travelling? does he stay with laios???!!! maybe he makes the decision to stay in melini, and he and laios dance around each other for eternity. but well that's what i got hope you liked it <3

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving with the Barbers

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You and Andy celebrate Thanksgiving. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, references to punishment, isolation, solitary confinement, hunger, negative self-talk, manipulation, angst, mental breakdown - This is a rough one, guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: So... remember this part from I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas?

"Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah. This is that Thanksgiving.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who read so much of this and always encourages me to go as dark as my twisted little heart desires.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy’s soft murmurs traveled down the hallway to you from the entryway as he said goodbye to his guests. You couldn’t tell how things had gone. He’d seemed happy enough but as he’d started introducing you to his life outside these walls, you’d learned quickly how easily he could have one face for the world and a different one for you. He’d stressed many times all week how important it was that your first holiday together be perfect. Was it? Had you done enough?

You busied yourself with cleaning up the dining room, trying to ignore the churning dread in your stomach. The leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables had already been moved to the kitchen, waiting to be put away in the fridge. Then you’d start on the endless dishes. Hopefully, that would buy you some time alone, while Andy went back to the football on TV. 

You kept your head down and continued gathering the discarded plates as Andy’s heavy footsteps came down the hall. He entered the dining room and leaned against the old-fashioned buffet that took over one wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your own eyes down and didn’t say anything. You knew better now. 

You had a tall stack of plates now that you wanted to take into the kitchen, but you were afraid of turning your back on him and leaving the room. So, you stood where you were, and you waited. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. You looked up. “You were awfully quiet at dinner,” he said, softly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone. 

“No, I–” you started and immediately regretted it. That was a bad word. “I just didn’t have much to add to the conversation.” The guests were all Andy’s colleagues and their spouses. It’d been too much shop talk to keep track of. On top of being so many more people than you were used to.

Andy made a thoughtful little hum before he continued. “Barbara commented on it, as she said goodbye. Wanted to be sure you were ok, hadn’t felt left out.”

You forced a smile, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “Yes, I’m fine. I had a nice time. It was a good dinner.”

He pushed himself off of the buffet, straightening to his full height. “Really, you thought it was a good dinner? With a dry turkey and an unfriendly hostess?”

You couldn’t help the way you blanched. You’d never cooked a whole turkey before or anything like it.  And you didn’t have access to the internet right now, so you were limited to the highbrow cookbooks Andy had bought for you. While those recipes were detailed, they didn’t exactly have tips and tricks for beginners. You’d tried your best. And no one at dinner had complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. You’d thought it was ok. But he didn’t want to hear you defend yourself, so you said nothing. 

He looked at the dirty dishes spread across the table and scowled. “Finish cleaning this up,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re done.”

You nodded quickly with a quiet, “Yes, Andy,” trying to keep your sigh of relief inside. He hadn’t said you’d continue the conversation downstairs, hadn’t said anything about a timeout or a punishment. You might be ok. You might get off with just a lecture. You could handle an upstairs lecture—kneeling at Andy’s feet while he listed all the ways you’d disappointed him and everything you needed to do to be better. Sometimes you even got to stay fully clothed. Lectures were fine. Lectures were easy. As long as you got to stay upstairs, you’d be ok.

Without another word, he moved into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the fridge as you continued organizing the dishes into neat stacks to hopefully make cleaning up a little easier. He came back with a beer in his hand, moving through to the living room to watch the evening game. As he started to walk by the table, the movement drew your eye to something, his reflection caught in the shiny steel. The carving knife. Just lying there next to the turkey.

The knife block had sensors in it, just like all the doors downstairs or the front door of the house. You had to scan your wristband every time you needed to use a knife while cooking and it would send an alert to Andy’s phone, letting him know whenever you used one, for how long, and when you put it back. But the carving knife, he’d taken that out himself today. As the man of the house, he had to be the one to carve the turkey. And then he’d just left it there, forgotten about it. The carving knife.

As you stood there, staring at it, it was like all of the parts of yourself he’d worked so hard to turn off, suddenly came roaring back on. How much you hated the dress you currently wore. How exhausted you were after working in the kitchen all day without a single thank you. The lecture that you knew awaited you, being forced to kneel at his feet. All of your own holiday traditions that had been stolen from you so that you could accommodate his. Everything he’d taken from you. The rage bubbling up inside of you was cleansing. You felt it giving you new breath, new life. You felt yourself coming back.

You looked up at Andy as he continued to move, his back to you now. That perfect, broad expanse. You could see it so clearly. The way you’d bury that knife between his shoulder blades. You lunged across the table.

Andy spun around as soon as he heard you move, his bottle of beer slipping from his hand, it’s contents spilling everywhere. Somehow, in that instant, he saw what you were grasping for and lunged for it too. Oh god, he was so much closer to it. You'd timed it all wrong. You were stupid in your desperation and anger. Oh well. You'd already made the choice. There was no turning back now.

You threw yourself onto the table, arm outstretched, dirty plates beneath you, just as his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife. You let out a guttural scream as he threw it away from you and it clattered against the baseboards. 

A beat too late, you tried to crawl backward, your knees struggling for purchase on the tablecloth, plates crashing to the floor, but Andy had already grabbed your still outstretched arm, dragging you towards him as you flailed, trying and failing to grab onto anything that might help you. 

He pulled you over the edge of the table and you fell to the floor, landing harshly in a jumble, more plates falling around you. He loomed over you, face completely overtaken by rage. But it couldn’t compare to yours. You kicked out wildly, indiscriminately and you’d never felt more satisfied than when you landed a few hits to his shins and he grunted in pain. Your satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he recovered and reached down to wrap his hands around both your wrists, even as you struggled as hard as you could to get away from him. 

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you across the floor. That was fine. You had no problem filling the silence. “You fucking motherfucker!” you screamed, the frustration and terror and anger of the last several months finally finding an outlet. “I hate you! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna burn this house to the fucking ground!”

Your struggles kicked up a notch as he opened the door to the basement with one hand, the other now holding on to both of your wrists. “No!” you yelled. “You can’t fucking do this! I’m done pretending to be your perfect little wife! You can’t–”

He wasn’t gentle at all as he yanked you down the stairs. You had to pause your fighting and screaming as you fell, the breath knocked out of you. You tried to protect your head, tried to protect any part of your body you could as you hit every step. Your dress did nothing to help as it gathered above your waist. You were exposed and vulnerable. But what else was new? You were immune to it now, after being debased every single day for months.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his hold on you, using both hands to drag you again. Still, he said nothing. But you caught your breath and resumed your litany of hate. “You’re so fucking weak. You’re pathetic. Of course, you had to buy a wife. Who would love you willingly?” The carpet burned your skin as he dragged you across it, but you continued to struggle, continued to scream. Nothing would stop you now. “You’re disgusting. Embarrassing.”

He stopped in front of the door to the quiet room and you almost laughed. Did he really think this was just some little tantrum a time-out would fix?  Did he really not understand the rage and power that flowed through you now? Did he really think a few hours in the dark would quell this? No way. After everything you’d been through, everything you felt now, you could handle the quiet room.

He threw you in and closed the door behind you. You sank down into the darkness. This was fine. This was great. The darkness couldn’t hurt you.

You’d forgotten what it was like to have no understanding of the passage of time. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. Right? 

He would come get you soon. What would you do then? Attack him as best you could. The rage still coursed through you. You were done laying down for him.

It must be getting late. It’d already been evening when the guests left. You were so tired now. Exhausted. But you had to be ready when Andy opened the door.

You startled awake as the furnace whirred to life. You were slumped over against the wall, your face pushed into the cinder block. It felt grimy.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Where was Andy? Whatever tenuous grasp you’d had on what time it was was completely gone now. That was ok. Andy would come soon and you’d beat the shit out of him, and then you would know what time it was.

It was the hunger that hit you first, but the thirst hit you harder. You knew now that this was the longest he’d ever left you here. You’d never gone hungry like this before. Well. He would let you out soon. He had to.

Your stomach hurt with how hungry you were. Your throat ached. Would he just let you die down here? Was he that angry? So angry that he’d decided to cut his losses. Start over with someone new. Was starving to death better than your life upstairs? Or the basement? You honestly didn’t know.

You were sprawled across the floor, as much as you could in the small space. What was the point of being upright? You could barely even tell which way was up anymore. It was all just darkness.

Suddenly, you were hit by a sliver of blinding light. What was happening? It took you embarrassingly long to realize it must have been a slot in the door you’d never seen before. Then something slid through it. You blinked at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, trying to make sense of what you saw. Oh my god, it was food! You lunged for it and tried to pull the tray to you, but it wouldn’t budge. That was better anyway. You needed the light to eat.  

On the tray was a small plate of leftover turkey and green beans and a bottle of water, along with a small plastic fork. You went for the water first, downing it, and then scarfed up the food, not even tasting it. After a few minutes, on the other side of the slot, you heard an alarm go off, and the tray was pulled back, a few bites still on the plate. “Andy, wait!” you called out, but the slot slammed closed and you were in the dark again.

You didn’t have anything to do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had nothing to do. Before Andy brought you here. Evenings in your little apartment, watching TV and eating takeout, fucking around on your phone. You hadn’t done that, hadn’t even thought about doing it in months. 

When you first got here, when your list of chores felt insurmountable and ridiculous, you would’ve given anything for the chance to lay around and do nothing. But now, it didn’t feel right. You should find a way to be productive. Andy was going to be so disappointed in you.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

You tried to do some yoga. You were so stiff from laying on the floor, but it was too hard when you couldn’t see how much space you had and were too scared of hurting yourself on the furnace or hitting the wall. So you went back to doing nothing.

The worst thing about waking up in this room was that you had no memory of falling asleep. It was all just darkness. Maybe there was no real difference between sleeping and being awake. How could you even tell anymore?

Andy brought another meal. Well, you assumed it was him. There was no one else. But you didn’t see him. He didn’t say anything. The tray was pushed through the slot, you ate and drank as fast as you could, the tray was pulled away. You didn’t say anything to him either.

You were so fucking bored. You’d tried singing to yourself. Running through old movies you remembered watching on TV as a kid. Reciting passages from old books. You felt like you were running out of thoughts.

There’d been three meals. If you could count the meals, that was sort of like keeping track of time, right? Even though you had no idea how often he brought them. Still, it had to be something.

The furnace was going to drive you insane. That whirring, whirring, whirring. White noise that wouldn’t stop. So loud you were afraid that the noise was just inside your head now. Maybe the furnace wasn’t even on.

“Andy,” you called out when the slot opened. “Andy, please.” He didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

The timer must have gone off sooner this time. The tray was pulled back when you were only halfway done. You started crying as the slot started to slide closed. Your stomach felt too empty.

You realized your mistake after he was gone. You had to call him sir when you were in the basement.

You started talking to yourself. Just to hear your voice. Any voice. You didn’t have anything to say, but you just couldn’t deal with the silence.

It wasn’t worth it. You saw that so clearly now. What did you really think you’d gain? You were never going to kill him. You couldn’t even hurt him. You were never going to win and you’d lost even more by trying.

You couldn’t remember whether there’d been six or seven meals. You’d lost count. And they were all the same. Nothing differentiated them. There was nothing to hold on to. This was the one thing tethering you to anything real and you’d lost it. There was no getting it back. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

He was tired of you. He was done. He was the only thing you had in the whole world and you’d lost him. You’d fucked it up. You were going to rot away in the Quiet Room until you were nothing. There was no getting out.

You crawled over to the slot when it opened and put your head right in front of it, keeping your eyes closed to avoid the burn of the light. “Sir,” you pleaded, your voice raspy, “sir, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir. Please.” You were crying. You couldn't stop. You couldn't hide it. 

He paused before he pushed the tray through, but he didn't say anything. 

You were lying on the floor, trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming when everything was suddenly bathed in light. You must be dreaming. Oh, but would a dream hurt so much? You rolled onto your stomach and curled up in a ball to try to shield your eyes from the light. Wake up wake up wake up, you chanted to yourself.

And then– Then, as you were curling up, tighter and tighter, on the floor, someone touched you, lightly, gently on your back. When was the last time you’d been touched? You didn’t know. You started crying, even as you pressed up into the soft caress.

“Oh sweetheart,” someone said. An angel. But wait. You knew that voice. “Look at you,” Andy said, “we’ve both had a rough few days, huh?”

You slowly rolled back over, wincing harshly at the light. There he was, crouching over you. You squinted at him, trying to make out his features. You started to sit up, but it ached to use your muscles that way.

He reached out a hand to help you. “Go slow, honey,” he said, and his voice was so gentle. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

“Sir?” you rasped. Was he really here?

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as he carefully pulled you into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“How–” you blinked up at him, feeling so disoriented. “How long?”

“Too long,” he answered sadly. “But we both needed time to calm down, didn’t we?” 

He stroked your back, and you whimpered. It felt so good. You’d been alone for so long. You nuzzled into his chest, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. Please forgive me.”

“Oh honey,” he sighed. You wished that you could drink up his gentle voice after so much silence. “I know. I know. It was a hard day. I understand. I’ll forgive you. After your punishment, it’ll be like it didn’t even happen.” 

“Punishment?” you looked at him in horror. “But– This– I–” You’d already been through so much. How could there be more?

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice picking up a firm edge. “This was just a little timeout. For both of us. So that we could both calm down and think about what happened. You know I never want to punish you when I’m angry.”

“But I’m sorry,” you cried, grasping at his shirt. You didn’t think you could handle a punishment. You were afraid you’d break into a million pieces in that room.

“You tried to hurt me.” All of the gentleness was gone now. “You have to be punished so you learn.”

You barely nodded as you curled up in his arms, crying quietly. You’d been so stupid. So, so stupid. It was such a mistake.

“I’ll tell you what, honey.” His hand resumed its stroking, up and down, up and down your back. So gently. “If you’re very good for me, if you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can go right back upstairs when it’s done. We won’t have to spend any more time down here.”

“Really?” You’d been so afraid that you’d doomed yourself to months down in the basement again, even worse than before.

“Really. Neither of us wants to be down here, do we? We both want to be happy upstairs, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Please, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will be, sweetheart. Let’s go get it over with, huh? Then we can take a nice long bath to get all this grime off of you. Can you move? Can you get up?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled into his chest, but you didn’t make any effort to move. Not yet. You wanted to savor this for a few more moments. You knew that as soon as you got into the punishment room, all of the gentleness would be gone. He’d be the figure from your nightmares again. And you knew you deserved it. You were so stupid. But you needed a couple more minutes of his soft touches before you’d be ready.

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @foulpersonahandsvoid @alexakeyloveloki @spiderwebbedhearts

[teecupangel]

“How can art be sexually deviant? Art is art.” Desmond argues, sounding like an excuse even to his ears.

From @shepardking

Lmao just imagining Ezio coming into Desmond's estate like "WHERE IS MY RECRUIT?!" Only to see the recruit being treated by a doctor and Desmond "gone". Ezio interrogates all the staff but no one says anything...but the cook is suspicious as hell and Ezio thinks he knows something... meanwhile Desmond was just trying to make something to eat 😭 can't a man feed himself without everything crashing down around him??? Because while Ezio would have a general idea of what Desmond looks like because of rumors and descriptions, but people exaggerate and Renaissance Italian people of high society will DEFINITELY do that. So Ezio only has the fact that the cook glows bright golden to go on, and that's not a lot to figure out why. Does he have information? A rich man would never cook his own food after all

You know what would be funny? If Ezio met Desmond before when he sneaked into Desmond’s villa to check if this supposed sexual deviant lord is any danger.

He and Desmond, who he believed to be a chef, hit it on and he believes said chef when he described his ‘lord’ as a bored rich idiot who wants to fuck around with the Borgias.

Now, Ezio is on a warpath and Desmond prefers to wear comfortable simple clothes and has been ‘recruited’ to find said sexual deviant lord and the missing recruit.

Which leads to…

Tags from @wisecloudnightmare

#the snort i let out 😂 #oh my god just imagine walls upon walls of gay porn that ezio will see when he barges in to the Miles Manor #just. everything Desmond does will only make ezio misunderstand more #like with des' fondness of ezio #ezio probably thinks it's because he was the first person to ever openly accused des to be deviated. make des go #“hmm. interesting ;)” like those old school shoujo male lead #des sees him trying to put distance between them and doubles down on (what he thinks are) his “suspiciously friendly rich man” gestures #to keep ezio away but... why does everyone looks at him like that? he had seen ezio and leo hug in public! it's not that weird! #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #cool au

Ezio doesn’t just misunderstand Desmond’s fondness for him, he misunderstand Desmond’s fondness for Leonardo as well and even how close they are.

Good news! Ezio now knows Leonardo is gay.

Sorta bad news! Ezio now believes Desmond and Leonardo are having a secret relationship. He doesn’t know what a sugar daddy is but that’s what he believes Desmond is to Leonardo.

From @thedragonqueen1998

The mental images of the "borgia men getting fucked in the ass" paintings is fucking sending me. XD Historians are definetly gonna love the sexual deviant Lord Miles.

“There are many historians who theorize that the evilest and scandalous stories about the Borgias were created by their enemies except for one. Only known as the Sexual Deviant Lord from Spain, this eccentric rich lord preferred to insult the Borgias by having them engage in homosexual acts of sex in the background of famous pieces of arts. His commissions alone proved to be more effective in making other people believe that the Borgias are sinful sexual deviants themselves.”

From @lorena12me

Ezio *dramatically kicks in the door*: Stop right there, Lord Miles!!! Desmond: Wait a minute, man who I definitely don't know. Leonardo Da Vinci is painting my fursona... and Cesare Borgia getting fucked in the ass.

“Of course, my fursona is not going to fuck Cesare Borgia. Leonardo, my dear…”

“I will paint the most grotesque anatomically accurate mangy dog, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

(sorry in advance, I've been stewing over this for so long that this will be a long one xd)

I was re-reading your fics on ao3 again (sue me, im starved for desmond time travel content) and whilst reading Eagle of Alamut's description i realised '...wait a damn minute, it is true! all of Desmond's knowledge on past is from his ancestors!' (not everyone is as big of a nerd as shaun). Cue weeks of relentless daydreaming over Desmond in Reneisance Italy trying his damnest to lay low... but: 1) he does not know what is socially acceptable at the time (clothe and behaviour wise)

2) the animus likely shielded it's users from the more... er.. unsaviory historical accuracy (child marriage, smell, violence and mistreatment towards the poor, women, disabled)

3) politics, culinary arts, medicine and money value from that era are not common knowledge (or even fully known to todays historians)

4) Ezio was not known for his subtility...

...so while desmond may know who to strike in order to protect Ezios family from getting executed, what places he may know to avoid if he wants to avoid attention from the italian brotherhood.

He does not know what he was getting himself in to when he decided to travel back in time.

I can just imagine him thinking that he can finally retire and live his life, but then BOOM here comes the shock of sociatal injustices! religious violence! inequality! horrendous mistreatment of beggars and disabled people! and as a good man raised in the 21st century he obviously can't, in his right conciousness, just turn his back on these issues, on these people.

So here he is, in Rome of all places, doing his best to atleast stay hidden from the Auditore's, and consequesntly, the Italian brotherhood's, detection, as he stalks the bright rooftops of Roma as histories (probably) very first assasin turned vigiliante!

I can just picture him at one point or another, getting mistaken for a Spanish assasin and his only attempt at 'confirming' (read: encouraging misleading rumours), is to use the very little languistic knowledge the American education system has bestowed upon him. cue him very awkwardly trying to immitate a Spanish accent/ speak in Spanish. or just, you know, say the only words every student knows, 'Feliz Navidad'.

It would be so funny if Desmond’s Spanish are based on:

1) what little remains of Ezio’s Spanish (maybe on par or even worse than his French)

2) Basic Spanish that he learned on the Farm

3) Spanish songs he heard

So people think that Desmond is eccentric.

And Rich.

Because Desmond wants to help people but he doesn’t want to be seen as an Assassin so…

He becomes a supposed rich Spanish (Arabic would have sent a red flag to the Brotherhood) noble who came to Rome to live a life away from his ‘family’.

Why is he ‘rich’?

Well, killing nobles and other ‘evil doers’ will flag the Brotherhood as well so it would be better to just…

Leave certain incriminating evidence in the doors of their enemies and let them duke it out. Hey, if some things go missing while they’re too busy with their enemies, that’s just collateral damage.

Also…

Sometimes, things go missing when some people get into accidents.

It’s easy to buy the impoverish area in Rome. It’s a bit challenging to get doctors to treat them.

Until Desmond flashed the right amount of money, of course.

Desmond manages to stay under the radar by being part of the upper echelon.

An eccentric foreigner who helps the poor and sick out of the goodness of his heart.

Or… because he apparently believes that the way to heaven is through good will and not… paying the clergy.

Desmond knows that being seen as completely good is a bad thing as well so he lets rumors spread that he’s an opportunist who heals the sick and protects the weak to receive their loyalty. He gives them salary to become his guards (not that he needs any) and people whisper how loyal the poor are to someone who gives them bread.

And to hammer in that “no, Ezio, I am absolutely not connected to the Templars BUT I’m also not going to be a good ally, just leave me alone!” plan he has, he becomes a patron of the art.

Sexually progressive art.

The church hates him but tolerates him because Desmond does ‘donate’ (jokes on them, he donates what he stole from the church) and the artists love him because he commissions stuff with the same thing over and over again “whatever you want to paint/sculpt/work on but I want the Borgia men getting fucked in the ass while Lucrezia Borgia watches”

He’s not rich enough to actually be a threat (especially after Ezio starts wrecking shit up) and he keeps to himself most of the time.

But, of course, life always has it out for Desmond and he comes face to face with a wounded recruit at the edge of his property and…

Well…

He only wanted to heal him then send him on his merry way.

He didn’t expect Ezio to come barging in thinking said recruit has been kidnapped by the eccentric ‘possibly sexual deviant’ Lord Miles.

[dancingdonatello]

coming up on finishing cherry (as it is anyways hehe), and WOW. maybe I do like villain aus actually. leo's characterization is so stellar, and I love the bits of the other boys we see. good shit!!! raph's crush on the reader has my heart hurting for him a lil bit 😭 if you don't mind the request, might I ask for a rise raph crushing on a reciprocating, but equally oblivious reader? the way you write him fawning over the reader is so adorable!! take your time if you decide to!! <3 -@boybeholding

thanks so much 🥺🥺 i’m glad you liked my characterization !!! i tried to keep him as true to himself as he could be

rise raph x reader

“So.” Raph shifted beside you on the couch. His weight made the cushions dip and you slipped into his side. You scooted away. Then fell back into his side. You looked up at him with an awkward smile which he returned.

“So…” You looked towards the projection on the screen. “What are we watching?”

“Um.” He focused on the projection but you saw how he glanced at you multiple times. “You can pick, Raph doesn’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well. To be honest, we only have Splinter’s shows downloaded. Donnie hasn’t shown any of us how to project other shows…”

You stared at him. “What? You’ve lived here your whole life and don’t know how to use a projector?”

His scales flushed and he shrugged, nervously fumbling around with his hands. “Dad usually hogs the living room, so…”

“Hm.” You looked back to the wall. “Wanna just come over to mine then?”

“Yours?” His voice went a few octaves higher than usual and you sent him a surprised glance. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, “yours?”

“Yeah. Nobody’s home so.” He went rigid. “Are you okay?” You reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“I’m okay.” He stood up, grabbing you effortlessly. “Let’s go.”

“Uh—” He carried you towards the lair exit and you swore you saw three pairs of white eyes staring at you from the shadows. “Okay.” This was alright. Who didn’t like being manhandled by a muscle-y mutant who could probably do many, many things to you. Anyways.

He cleared his throat again, looking nervous. Tucked against his chest, you peered at him curiously.

“You look… nice today.” He risked a peek down at you before his gaze snapped back up to where he was going. “As always.”

You melted at the compliment, fingers brushing against his plastron. You smiled when he shivered. “Thanks.”

[strwberri-milk]

Songs of Sorrow - Ch. 18

Rancher!AU || Boothill x Fem!Reader || Slowburn, Drama

just in case this is triggering for any readers it is outright said that mikhal fully abandoned his wife as bait for boothill!! i dont really know how to tag it but please keep that in mind if thats difficult for you to process!! you can skip up untli boothill asks about susheng!!

Boothill’s body was always made for tough work - he grew up working hard then his time as a bounty hunter simply reinforced the innate strength he felt he always had. He had no idea how much he missed the solid weight of a gun in his hand, spinning the metal around his finger as he brought extra ammo and hides a second piece before making his way out the door. 

He knows that Mikhal is currently his best bet. He’s passing the man’s house anyway on the way back up to town, leisurely strolling up the porch as he pounds his fist against the wooden door. 

Boothill knows that there’s no reason to think that the man would open up for him that easily. Doing so was basically a death sentence right now but that wasn’t going to stop him from getting the answers he needed. He barely lets a second go by before he’s knocking on the door roughly again, his forearm adding to the loud thudding as he knocks insistently. 

“Open your damn door Mikhal,” Boothill hisses. 

“You’re just makin’ things worse for yourself the longer you make me wait. I ain’t in the habit of killin’ women and children but I might just have to make an exception for your sweet little Geryll there. She’s the one who instigated this,” he threatens. 

He knocks on the door again, dangerously close to splintering the wood. 

“Khashin, you’re in there too aren’tcha? Don’t worry - I won’t be hurtin’ you or your baby. Y’all ain’t got a quarrel with me. I know if that dimwit of a husband of yours talked to you he wouldn’t have done anything like this. You’re far too good for him - if anythin’ happens I’d be more than willin’ to take you in if you needed me to.” 

At no response he steps back from the door, looking to the window that sat at the side. The curtains were drawn, definitely a smart move if they wanted to avoid someone looking in but he also knew the back door didn’t have such protection. 

Boothill easily jumps the railing, gun in hand as he begins to circle the foundation of the home. He knew that with there being no upstairs, it’d be very easy to pin down whoever was hiding inside to the basement. There was no way he’d be letting them run out on him, not without giving him the answers he needed. 

It’s a little scary how easily he falls back into old habits, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making butterflies of excitement dance around in his stomach. Hunting down scum of the galaxy and putting an end to some lowlife’s existence never ceased to excite him and now, like this, he gets the sense that he’s slipping back into that headspace. 

He makes his way to the back door, pulling out his knife to cut through the screen and let himself in. They neglected to pull the glass over the door, heavy boots trailing mud into the usually pristine home. Listening carefully, he makes sure that there are no signs of life before continuing his canvas through the home, gun held steady in front of him as he softens his breath to pay attention to any, and everything in the dark rooms. 

He makes it back around to the front of the house, seeing the missing keys and shoes. They must have made a run for it as soon as he threatened Mikhal’s life, running his fingers through his hair as he kicked at a wall. 

“Dammit!” 

He holsters his gun as he realises that he won’t be getting anything, opening the door to the basement just as he hears a soft sob. The noise stopped as soon as it started, his ears catching the unsteady breathing of someone desperately trying to hide their tears. 

He makes a quick loop of the home again, realising that he neglected to check a storage closet that was far too small for a single person to be in. Still, he opens the door anyway, jaw dropping at the sight. 

“Khashin! Get out here.” 

He pulls the very pregnant woman up from the floor despite the initial recoil from his touch. He leads her to a couch, sitting her down and pouring a glass of water for her. He kneels next to her, gun on the table to avoid her worrying about him shooting her. 

Her tears are never ending, Boothill slowly realising that she must have been left here as a diversion. 

“How long has it been?” he asks her softly, trying to move things along to find you. 

“I - I don’t know,” she cries, head in her hands. 

“Mikhal - he said he knew you wouldn’t hurt me, that I’d be safe - but I don’t - I don’t know why he thought to shove me in there.”

“I need you to think Khashin. How long has it been? If you can’t tell me that, can you at least tell me where you think he went? Geryll?” he tries. 

“They didn’t tell me. Geryll ran over after telling me she was going to go see you then she and Mikhal started talking about how they needed to go collect their money. Mikhal told me to stay in there until you came here,” she manages through tears, hands going to her stomach. 

“I think he’s going to leave me. They’re both going to leave,” she cries, shaking her head in disbelief. 

Boothill scoffs, reaching for the landline to dial Dan Heng’s number. 

“You know Susheng, right? The egg farmers up the way? I’m callin’ one of them to come down here, keep an eye on you. Don’t worry about any of that right now or else your little baby will come out frownin’.” 

He can’t help but feel bad for her, knowing that her marriage was crumbling around her as he talked to Dan Heng. Unfortunately, now was not the time for him to comfort her, knowing that every minute he spent here was another that you were getting further away from him. 

He leaves before Dan Heng gets there, making the drive into town that he’s done millions of times at this point. He’s glad that his car isn’t anything fancy, easily blending in with the others as he parks it somewhere nondescript. His hunt continues on foot, heading right to that fateful lounge that started it all. 

It’s far too early in the day for the doors to be open but he knows that staff are already milling about looking through the window innocuously to gather quick headcounts. Sampo might be amongst the crowd, helping prepare things for the day and wherever he was, you should be near. 

 He’s disappointed not to see the man, beginning to make his way down to where he found you being kidnapped. If Sampo was smart he wouldn’t be housing you anywhere near there after it being compromised by Boothill himself. However, he might be able to find some clues as to where you went there, sneaking into the housing nearby for the staff. He breaks into a few rooms deemed empty, trying to figure out who might have the best chance of knowing where Sampo put you. 

Sampo doesn’t trust easily, something Boothill is cursing as he realises nobody has anything that would get him nearer to you. He’d probably have to break into Sampo’s home himself, unsure of where to head as he makes his way back to his car to regroup. He keeps himself parallel to the main road, not wanting to be easily spotted as he starts to pass the lounge again. 

The doors open and out walks Sampo, looking up to the sky to admire the weather before walking off. Boothill immediately begins tailing him, thanking his good fortune as he follows the man through what seems like an incredibly convoluted path. It’s almost as though Sampo knew he was being tailed but when the two of them reach an abandoned looking cabin and Sampo doesn’t even falter in entering the code to the building. Boothill’s able to make out the code from the positioning of his fingers, taking a mental note of it as he starts planning your rescue. 

He knew if he acted too quickly he’d run the risk of scaring off the businessman, forcing him to move up whatever plans he had for you. He’d have to give it some time, trick him into thinking that his plan was foolproof. He wishes he could just step in right now, take you with him but a poorly thought out plan - while his specialty - would just put you in jeopardy. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧───  ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .*☆｡ﾟ ───✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You kept track of time by marking it on your wall, being given a pencil and notebook to entertain yourself. Your guards were kind enough to at least put the radio on for you, keeping the awkward silences to a minimum as at least one of them had to follow you around. Whoever wasn’t actively with you would usually stand at the front door - the only way to leave the house - or patrol around outside to ensure there was nobody there. Sampo would visit with your meals, trying to make small talk with you and update you on the overall progress being made. 

You wanted to ask about Boothill, knowing that it wouldn’t be hard for him to get that information but also worried about what he would tell you. You decided that ignorance was bliss, picking at your meal as Sampo gives you the most recent update on your upcoming trip. 

“So there’s nothing I can say to you to change your mind, is there?” you ask for the nth time, convinced that maybe you could annoy him into letting you go. 

“Nope. Sorry. I need the money you make me and now that I had to pay out that money to those siblings I really need it back. I had plans for that cash.” 

You curse internally, knowing that Geryll sold you out but hearing it from Sampo’s mouth made it sting again. 

“I am going to have to figure out what the new pay split is going to be. Just while I work on making back the money I lost.” 

“I don’t want to hear about this,” you sigh, taking your meal back to your room. 

“If you’re going to try to pretend to be my friend, at least bring me something I enjoy eating.”

Sampo leaves shortly thereafter, leaving you to entertain yourself in your bedroom. You knew that one of the guards was going to stand outside the window, making sure you didn’t slip out as the other stayed on the outside of your door. They were doing this to at least give you some privacy, something you were thankful for. If you knew them better you’d be inclined to hold a conversation with them, feeling extraordinarily bored. You pull out one of the books left for you on a shelf, finding your page as you let the words distract you. 

You’re about to fall asleep, moon high in the sky when the feeling of the book slipping out of your hand jerks you awake. You put it back on the bedside table, about to lay down when a soft thud startles you. You look at the book, expecting to see it on the ground but when you realise that it isn’t you sit up in your bed. 

You wish you had a phone in your room, worried that something got into the cabin. You didn’t have any weapons or any way of getting help due to Sampo keeping your presence here a secret, quietly making your way towards the window just to see the guard outside slumped against the ground. You bite back a noise of fear, covering your mouth as you start to head towards the closet to hide. Another thud sounds just right outside your door, making you jump as it opens. 

You’re about to scream, eyes wide in fear as a figure steps into the room, falling to your knees when you’re faced with the barrel of a gun. 

[typicalopposite]

sunday snippet (sunday sentences)

heyyyy! so that thing i mentioned yesterday? the racing au? yeah that one! Welllllp! I did the it!

<3<3<3<3<3

Victory Lane

Focus. Speed. I’m speed…

.

.

.

One winner. 42 losers.

.

.

.

“I eat losers for breakfast!” Tommy says in a mock Lightning McQueen voice (which is actually pretty good, if he says so himself). He reaches over the back of the couch and grabs Jee, lifting her up into the air. She squeals, and giggles, and wiggles against his hold until he finally sets her back down. 

“Watch with me, Uncle Tommy!” she says, bouncing on the cushion and smiling up at him so sweetly… is he actually expected to say no? He looks at the TV– at the opening scenes of Cars as it plays out– and sighs dramatically. “Pleeease!!” she begs, lip in full pout and eyes wide and sad… both Buckley siblings strongest attributes being used against him. 

“Okay, okay! Break my arm why don’t ya!” She leaps up from the couch and grabs hold of his arm, tugging him around until he's seated next to her. 

By the end of the movie Jee is determined to grow up to be a racecar– “You mean race car driver?” ; “No.”–  and Tommy is feeling just nostalgic enough from a long since buried time in his past to indulge in her newest interest. He finds a box in his garage filled with some of Evan’s belongings he hasn’t unpacked yet in the move. He dumps– with care, so he doesn’t get in trouble for it later– the stuff on his work bench, and then returns inside with the box. 

Some cutting, and taping, and coloring later and he is pushing Jee around the backyard on a track made with painter tape and hoses, in her very own racebox. At least it’s what he does until his back reminds him he is in his forties and so he cuts out some leg holes, attaches shoulder straps, and officially RaceBox Jee is born. Then he sets her loose on the track and reclines in one of the yard chairs watching as she wears herself out nicely for a nap. 

When Maddie and Howie pick her up that afternoon, Jee can’t stop talking about racing; she tells them about the movie, shows them her car costume– “Uncle Tommy said this was what his car looked like!” she says enthusiastically and Tommy had honestly thought she would forget that detail. Howie stares at the cardboard car impressed, before finally lifting his eyes to Tommy. “I didn’t know you were so into racing!”

“Oh… well– I’m not, really. Not anymore.”

“Wait, you actually had a car?” Maddie presses, brows raising with interest. “Did you race?”

“I– Yeah… a long time ago. It was just… a hobby, I guess.” His hands find their way into his pockets, and he sways on his feet nervously. It’s been… a while since he has talked about that part of his life, he thought he’d keep it buried forever. Damn it Disney.

Were you good?” she continues.

“How many did you win?” Howie adds.

“Does Buck know?” They seem so enthralled with learning something new about Tommy– the constant mystery among the 118 & co. His face must give away the overload they are putting on him and Maddie’s cheeks turn pink. “Oh god, we’re so sorry!” she laughs, resting a hand on Howie’s shoulder. 

Tommy feels the weight of expectant answers lift, and he smiles at them. “You’re fine, but no, Evan doesn’t know… it just hasn’t been important to me in so long it didn’t feel significant enough to bring up.” Maddie gives him an understanding smile, and a big yawn from Jee signifies it is time they head out. 

*

“So how did your first time babysitting go?” Evan asks the next morning. He all but runs into Tommy’s arms, pressing their lips together before Tommy can give an answer. 

“Mmm,” Tommy hums, forever savoring the taste of Evan’s kiss. “Technically, it wasn’t my first time. We have watched her dozens of times before.”

Evan gives the slightest of eye rolls, smiling as he pulls free of Tommy’s embrace. “Yeah, yeah… but this is the first time it was just Jee and Uncle Tommy,” he clarifies, smiling at himself for using the title he put Jee up to using a few visits ago, and she took to using it ever since. He loves it. Uncle Tommy. You couldn’t have made Tommy of the past believe this would be his life if you could take back cold hard evidence to prove it. Tommy of the past, even back when racing was something he used as an outlet– something that brought him joy amidst his bleak outlook on life– would have laughed at the idea of settling down. The idea he could find happiness in another person, The idea he could be himself, and would have a family to support and love him anyway. Yeah… right. 

Thank god Evan stopped Tommy of the present from letting Tommy of the past be right.

“It went great actually. We watched Cars.”

“I love that movie!” Evan beams over at him from the coffee pot as he pours himself a cup. “Maddie used to say I thought I was Lightning McQueen back in the day.”

“Like uncle, like niece,” Tommy laughs. “Jee says she’s going to be a race car when she grows up.”

“Like a driver?”

“No.” Tommy laughs at Evan’s confusion, but moves on without clarifying. “We, uh, made her a car out of a cardboard box… I– I made it up to look like a real race car– a specific race car… actually.”

“Oh? What car?”

Tommy opens his mouth to say mine, and his phone rings. He groans and grabs it off the counter, feelings like the entire world hit the brakes when he sees the name. His Aunt Cassie, whom he hasn’t spoken to since Christmas when she called to fill him in on the current drama going on in their families personal lives. She is the only family member he even still speaks to. The latest dose of gossip was that his dad had been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer– nearly fifty years of smoking non filtered cigarettes will do that to you. He was surprised it hadn’t got him sooner. He already knows what to expect when he answers the phone. 

“He’s gone, baby…” she says with a heavy sigh… and Tommy isn’t sure how to respond to that. Thankfully Aunt Cassie is a godsend and understands. “I have the arrangement taken care of, don’t fret with that… just get here as soon as you can; funeral will be Sunday.”

Sunday was three days away. 

At the very latest he has to be back in his hometown– a place he hasn’t stepped foot in in almost fifteen years– in three days.

<3<3<3<3<3

hopefully she is done... SOON!

no pressure tags forrrr @30somethingautisticteacher @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15 @sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction

@onthewaytosomewhere @quintessenceofdust88 @unhingedangstaddict @kinardsevan @bidisasterevankinard

@hyperfocusthusly @beanarie @lavenderleahy @weewookinard

@silversky9 @somethingaboutfirefly @bucksxkinard

and you know... anyone else who wants to play!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The Axe - Chapter 3 (Part 3)

It's the final piece! Enjoy some fantasy medieval ages/early common era au with local executioner!König. Since this is chapter 3, there's no real point to adding my KoFi but I'll do it anyways because why not.

KoFi Here

Tw: Discussion of torture, discussion of virginity and related topics

Wordcount: 1.9k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me

You hurried home as quickly as you could, racing against Brak-Hah’s descending eye and the rise of Luit and Lui as they tumbled through the sky. You managed to scurry inside just before Densis’s watch settled in and hurried to the kitchen to find your auntie measuring out cups of buck flour into bags.

“There you are!” she cried as you walked through the door, “I was worried you’d be late!”

“Worried?” you asked with a smirk.

Your auntie rolled her eyes, “Always with the mouthing off, aren’t you? I really should take a sandal to you one of these days…”

“Auntie, I’m a bit old for that,” you laughed as you rolled up your sleeves.

Your auntie huffed and shook her head, but at the very least she didn’t say anything until you sat down in a stool beside her and set to work.

“So,” she said warily, “how was it?”

You grimaced, “Horrible, Auntie.”

Your auntie raised a thin brow, “Horrible you say?”

“Just horrible,” you said again, “the man spat in Father Kim’s face when he was given his final redemptions. They choked him to death in the end.”

Your auntie shivered, “Oh that’s just disgusting. I mean really, a choking? Those are just the worst ones. Nobody likes those.”

“It’s better than some other deaths,” you offered.

“Just because it’s better than a grinding doesn’t mean it’s a good death,” your auntie grumbled.

You shuddered at the thought.

“No, not at all,” you admitted, “but it was awful. I could hardly stand the smell of it once it was done.”

Your auntie shook her head, “I’m surprised you stayed around long enough.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I was handing off the rations to The Axe.”

Your auntie snapped her eyes wide in alarm, “Your uncle left you alone with him!?”

“Um… Well…” you shrank down into yourself, “I sorta just stayed behind?”

“What in the realms was he doing!?” your auntie hissed, “I told him to keep you both-You know what, nevermind. I should’ve never let you go in the first place.”

“But Auntie, he’s not as bad as you think,” you tried to say, “he’s not a monster.”

“Any man capable of putting someone through a grinding is a monster, if you ask me,” your auntie sniffed.

You clenched your teeth together.

“I’m telling you Auntie, he’s not that bad,” you tried again, “you just have to give him a chance.”

“Why should I?’ your auntie scoffed, “it’s not like I’ll ever meet him.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Well, I like him well-”

“Oh so you admit it!” your auntie snapped, “you do like him! Now I know for sure I know what’s going on here!”

You huffed, “And what’s going on?”

“You’re going to try and marry that bastard!” your auntie growled, “that lowlife nothing! You’re going to take everything we’ve given you and you’re going to toss it away to run off with that sick, disgusting, evil-”

“I keep telling you he’s not-”

“Oh there you go again, defending his ‘honor’! What honor does a man like that have?” your auntie whirled on you, “he was born of a cursed line, he’ll die a cursed line. Any son from his loins will have a black cross painted on their head from the moment they leave your womb!”

You paused momentarily. You drummed your fingers on your knee before carefully turning to your auntie.

“So you’re saying I’ll have his child?”

“That’s what you’re focussing on!?”

You shrugged. Your auntie sighed and set the measuring cup down to rub at her dark temples.

“I swear, you’re just like your uncle,” she grumbled, “there’s something in you both that makes you want what you can’t have.”

“Well, Uncle chose to love you, right?” you offered, “I’m sure if he didn’t love what he couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have gone after you.”

Your auntie sighed, “I was a merchant’s daughter, at least. A merchant. Not an executioner.”

“But you see my point?” you asked.

“I see your point and I think it’s ridiculous,” your auntie huffed before she scooped up another cup of flour and begrudgingly added, “but I see your point.”

You smiled hopefully, “Look, I know he’s not your ideal choice-”

“Oh that couldn’t be more of an understatement.”

“He’s not your choice, but he’s my choice,” you finished.

“I think you have terrible taste,” your auntie grumbled, “of all the cursed lovers you could have, you chose an executioner. You could be with a plumber, a street sweeper, even a mercenary might’ve been better!”

You gave your auntie a knowing look.

“Okay, well, maybe not the last one. But Jakob down the road is a perfectly good plumber’s apprentice!” your auntie spluttered.

“Jakob Braun? The boy who used to pull my hair and throw beetle muck at me?” you pulled a face.

“If he just ate a bit better he’d look good enough,” your auntie offered.

“Last I heard he visits the whorehouse every other watch,” you raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone has their vices.”

“He smells of the very shit he cleans,” you tried again.

“Wear perfume,” your auntie shrugged, “it might help cover it up.”

“My children would still be considered undesirables,” you scowled.

“But they wouldn’t have a murderer for a father!” your auntie proclaimed, “oh how would you go about the village if you married that brute? You have such good friends around. How would you handle losing all of them?”

“I think my friends could tolerate my choices,” you huffed.

Your auntie rolled her eyes, “Tomorrow I’m going to start looking for a marriage for you. This is getting out of hand.”

You stilled your movements.

“You… You’re not serious, are you?” your voice shook slightly.

Your auntie scowled at you. Her dark eyes hardened briefly, but soon she sank back with a weary sigh.

“No,” she admitted, “I just don’t want you getting hurt. And if you go off with this man… I can’t help you if you get hurt. You know I can’t.”

“I won’t get hurt Auntie,” you assured her, “I promise.”

“Maybe not by him, but what about everyone else?” she tried to reason with you, “I can’t stop the rumours. You know I can’t.”

“Everyone always has rumours about them,” you answered trepidatiously, “I’m sure I’ll be alright in the end.”

“But will you?” your auntie frowned as she went back to her work, “I don’t know, I can’t be sure. If I can’t be sure you’ll be safe, how can you expect me to support you? You can’t! I just… I can’t.”

You let out a sigh and sank your elbows onto your knees, “You can’t, and neither can I. But I can at least try.”

“You know there’s no going back if anyone catches wind of you two together,” your auntie warned you, “nobody will want to be with you if they know he’s touched you.”

You pursed your lips into a line, “I know.”

“You’ve never had a man before,” your auntie clucked her tongue, “he’d be the first one, and he’d ruin you for anyone else.”

“But I don’t want anyone else,” you said.

“But what if he doesn’t want you?” your auntie pointed out, “he might like you now, but you know how boys are. They’re wild things that want new toys until they’ve used them up, and then they throw them away. They’re horrible beasts, boys are.”

“But what about you and Uncle Mattias?” you asked.

“Your uncle and I found each other after being with others first,” your auntie explained, “we weren’t firsts to each other. We found each other through trial and error. Your uncle was a wild man in his youth, and I was worse than him. We went through a few before we found the person that worked best for us.”

“So you’re not just opposed to him because you think he’s evil?” you asked.

Your auntie rubbed her temples again, “No, you silly girl. It’s because I’m worried for your future!”

“But what if he’s what’s right for me?” you asked.

“Then you’d be winning the lottery,” your auntie snorted, “if you want to play that sort of game, I can’t stop you. Just know that once he’s been with you, nobody else will want you.”

“Because he’s taken my virginity?” you asked.

“No, stupid girl! Because he’s an executioner, and nobody wants a woman who’s laid with an executioner!” your auntie snapped.

You winced at her words, but helped fill the flour sack regardless.

Your auntie worked hard beside you, slowly filling one bag before moving the next and filling it just the same. She took care to line each filled bag along the wall so she could sew them shut later to sell them. She was always a wonderful seamstress, something you could never be. She said you didn’t have the practise, but something told you she was just being nice about it. It’s not like you were incapable of the work, it just wasn’t what you were best at.

You kept shoveling the flour in the bags beside you. It’s a shame you missed the miller; he’s always been the friendliest face to grace your shop. He was a jolly snow tredder that stopped by every now and then to deliver the flour he’d ground that day. You didn’t know how he did it, but his flour was always the best quality in the whole village. None of the other farmers had anything like what he had. At the very least, Dimitri Muller was the best wheat and grain farmer the region had ever seen. At most, possibly the best farmer in the entire kingdom.

You smiled at the thought of Dimitri and his silly northern jokes. You wondered how he got along with Nikto. The two came from a similar region, that you knew for sure.

As you worked on measuring out the flour, you heard your auntie sigh beside you.

“I'm sorry for being so harsh,” she whispered, “I’m just afraid for you.”

“It’s alright,” you tried to say without your voice shaking too much.

“I…” your auntie groaned, “I don’t even know his name! Haven’t you thought of that? Do you even know his name?”

You paused. You’d been calling him ‘The Axe’ the entire time you’d known him. You’d given him your name, but you’d never actually hear his own. The thought had your heart turn cold as stone.

“I actually don’t,” you admitted.

“Well, before you go gallivanting off with this boy, do get to know his name,” your auntie huffed as she poured the final cup of flour into the bag. She dusted her knees off and got to her feet. She looked at all the bags and gave it an affirming nod before she turned to you, “You’ll help me with the sewing, won’t you?”

You smiled, “Of course I will.”

“Good,” your auntie sniffed, “otherwise I wouldn’t be done until Brak-Hah’s watch next watch.”

“No, I won’t abandon you here,” you assured her, “just pass me a needle and I’ll start.”

Your auntie smiled and patted your head with a warm, leathery hand. Her smile faded as a wash of grief flooded her features.

“What’s wrong auntie?” you asked.

“You’re growing up so fast,” she mourned, “and now you’re off doing all this. I’m scared, my dear. I’m so scared. I’m worried about this man, and I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

You stood up and gripped your auntie in a crushing hug.

“I won’t get hurt,” you promised her, “I’ll be okay. I’ll come and visit too, alright?”

Your auntie sniffled into your hair, “You’d best keep that promise. I won’t ever forgive you if you don’t.”

“I will,” you said as you rocked each other warmly, “I promise I will.”

23. Grinding: A form of execution where a criminal is strapped to a round stone. Their body is slowly eviscerated starting from the feet up. The body can either be crushed to a pulp or the flesh torn off of it with pliers, or is in another way ‘eviscerated’ until there is nothing left. Considered a worse death than the other punishment in its bracket which is breaking. Like in grinding, the body is strapped to a round stone, but in breaking each and every bone in the body is methodically broken before the body is hung up on display. Contrary to grinding, in breaking you can either be broken from the feet up or the head down, depending on how merciful the judgement is. Because you can be broken from the head down, many say it’s a more merciful punishment. Victims in both breakings and grindings normally pass out from pain soon after the execution has begun.

24. Snow Tredder: A species of sentient mushroom that typically live in the far north, near the poles. They are known for their intense bonds between their communities and their hardiness. Many are very large, both in height and in weight. Ones that move away typically only do so in cases of colony collapses or if the colony is in dire need of financial support.

Part One

Part Two

KoFi

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[theeminentlyimpractical]

what neurodivergence is it that I have to put down a fanfic for a moment when oh my god it’sHAPPENING.gif? I need to physically shake myself out and get back into it like a football player who’s just been sacked on the third down.

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[salparadiselost]

The New Gods AU looks quite interesting. So is Dick the god of spectacle and Tim the god of deduction?

Thank you!

The New Gods AU is dear to my heart <3

SO

Dick and Tim (and Jason) are all godlings, meaning they are directly formed from a human emotion attaching to something. Strong enough emotion with enough time can turn a more nebulous thing into an actual child-shaped godling, which can then be either raised by a god or grown up by itself.

As a godling develops, they will need to find something that feeds them and sustains their life. That is what they are 'the god of' though it isn't really like they control the thing, they more relish in it and can develop powers associated with it. They need a thing however, or else they will fade. The stronger and more prevalent that thing is, generally the stronger the god though there's usually competition over resources. Concepts do go extinct too. The things that could once support gods can fade into obscurity, so often gods must adapt their godhood to survive. It's kinda like starting from square one in terms of power, but hey you don't fade out.

Dick was a godling born in the Roman Coliseum and among all the blood and spectacle that came with it. He loves the vicious sport of competition and a crowd screaming the players on. He doesn't so much mind how much pain comes from it; it often makes a better show. Bruce caught him when he was young and though he would have been in his rights to letting Diana snuff out Dick's life in fear he was attaching to concepts that were too violent and vicious, Bruce took him in. Bruce has worked towards getting Dick attached to less... bloody spectacles. He's been a god of many types of shows and events, though circuses both Roman and modern are his favourite. He searches for anything with showboating and performance of impressive feats. Today, he mainly gleans power from in-person events such as concerts or sports shows (like WWE) though he isn't picky. He's also recently been exploring the power associated with TikTok stunts.

Tim is a godling that was born around the same time that the printing press was developed. Lots of godlings spawned during the advent of mass communication and Tim started attaching himself to rumours, lies and mysteries hidden in between letters. He loved watching how lies could destroy someone, destroy a life, or completely hide truth from another. Now, Bruce's job as a god deals with lots of mysteries (which is a whole 'nother can of worms) so Tim kinda... just started following him along until Bruce adopted him. Tim was attracted to the mysteries built into Bruce's 'job' and he also doesn't mind recreating the death (Bruce does not like this or ask for Tim to do this). Today, Tim has adapted to focusing on cold cases and true crime. He absolutely adores the true crime podcast boom and has probably shown up on your favourite 'make-up and murder' get ready with me without you even knowing.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i just spent the last like hour going through all the lights out au stuff and im OBSESSED rn PLEASE

i'm not sure how to help you! enjoy the brainrot