#(So now I must share that nausea with you all)

[threewaysdivided]

The Shaper of Minds and its possible consequences for a certain character

I have finally joined the rest of the internet in losing my mind over a D&D Podcast - in my case, the wonderful Dan Jones & Dragons.  With Episode 26 due to stream on Dan’s Twitch this week, I really want to talk about some of the stuff that came up across the just-finished Gala sessions because the fallout from that has the potential to be incredibly fraught.

THE SHAPER OF MINDS

The relic the Flower Crowns were going after this mission – The Shaper of Minds – is a potentially fascinating narrative device that might as well have been lab-engineered to be my exact brand of personal nightmare fuel.   It’s a small, ornate brass key that can alter any part of the target’s mental faculties/thoughts/memories at will should the wielder touch it to any part of their victim’s skin.

Now, on one hand, there are a heap of interesting (and even benevolent) applications for a tool like that.  It could instantly grant access to skills, languages and knowledge that would otherwise take a person years of study to learn.  It could be used to sort through and resolve memories that had been faded by time, muddied by trauma or forcibly supressed by magical/medical means.  But on the other…

As described and used in campaign so far, the primary function of the Mindshaper is to alter memories (and the attendant personality) with the target having no awareness that their mind has been changed.  It’s basically gaslighting on steroids, except that where a gaslighting victim still retains their original recollection – and has to be manipulated by their abuser into doubting their own perceptions and instead accepting the alternate telling of events (a cognitive dissonance that can eventually lead the person to recognise the manipulation) – the Shaper of Minds entirely replaces the original recollection of events with the version the wielder wants their victim to perceive.  There is no internal conflict between accounts, no inconsistencies that could alert the victim that someone has broken into their head and rewritten their perceived reality.  The person they reshape you to be is the person you believe you always were.  And all it takes is a single touch.

That is a brand of existential horror that had me on edge all throughout Session 24 (basically from the moment it was implied the key was in play).   Reality may be objective, but each individual person’s internal reality is governed by their perception – their memories – of the events in their life, no matter how incomplete, biased or otherwise skewed that personal perspective may have been.  You have value just by being you because you are not replaceable, but the thing that makes you unique is, in large part, the sum total of those inimitably specific personal memories.  No-one else will perceive the world in exactly the same way you do, and even a few minor changes to just a few of those perceptions can flow on to massive differences in ideals, values, priorities and future choices.  In that regard, the use of the Mindshaper Key isn’t so much an alteration as an obliteration of the victim’s former self and replacement with someone new; even if that new stranger is largely indistinguishable from the original.  And, again, all it takes is a single touch.

[Sidenote:  This made Mister Wick an especially effective antagonist to wield the key, since his Galas functionally trap even targets who are aware of the threat within the rules of high-society behavioural expectations.  Otherwise-innocuous actions like a handshake or private conversation suddenly become incredibly dangerous, while being nigh-impossible for the Flower Crowns to extract themselves from without committing an atrocious faux pas and potentially tipping Wick off.  Perfectly designed stage for a psychological horror-thriller encounter.]

Which of course, brings us to a certain character who fell victim to the key in Episode 24…  [put under the cut for spoiler reasons]

MORENTHAL

This poor Drow, he can never catch a break…

Morenthal may not have been the most mechanically dangerous party member to fall victim to Mister Wick’s manipulations although, given that the key was revealed to let its wielder read existing memories during the alteration, and that all of the Flower Crowns were fully briefed on the locations and nature of the Eversteel artefacts, him getting a hand on any of them could have been very bad plot-wise but from a character point of view I think he’s the one who the key’s effects had the potential to be most personally devastating for.

The way things ended up playing out across Session 25 was precisely the nightmare scenario Gamb was fretting about out of game: Mister Wick forcibly implanted Morenthal’s mind with false memories of being his lifelong trusted confidant and supporter, then – before the Flower Crowns could reverse the key’s effect – Morenthal discovered that Mister Wick had been killed in combat with Coil and Preston, leading to the Party having to physically restrain him so they could use the key to undo the damage, thus confronting Morenthal with the realisation that not only was everything he thought he knew about Jonathan a lie, but in actuality Jonathan had committed possibly the most invasive violation he’d ever been subjected to in order to forcibly make Morenthal into one of his loyal tools.  That level of emotional and mental whiplash would be rough on any character, but for Morenthal it’s particularly brutal because…

Based on what’s been revealed in-game so far, the core of his character is that Morenthal is an abused child.  This most-clearly came up in his conversation with Gelnek in Session 14; he was a child who grew up with nothing, raised by the Bloodletter Mercenaries as a tool instead of a person, and taught to see faces only as targets – with him also mentioning to Hobson in that their “combat training” involved being relentlessly beaten down until he learned to fight back.  During his Session 21 visit with the Nightmother, he openly admits that “nowhere feels safe”.  From that it’s pretty clear to read that Morenthal has never felt unconditionally loved, safe or respected around other mortals.

(This also helps contextualise why he’s so devoted to the Nightmother.  From what little we have seen of his visits to her, Iris is a fond “adult” figure, who does not threaten, does not judge, asks nothing of him aside from his company, and cares equally for all the souls that pass through her domain.  For a child “growing up with nothing” but violence, that would have been everything.)

But then, enter Jonathan fucking Wick.  And now, just for a short while, Morenthal has all these “memories” of Jonathan being there to confide in, encourage him and support his escape from the Bloodletters.  Suddenly he believes someone was there for him and, while the memories might be fake, the feelings of unconditional safety they would have brought were very real.  Little wonder that he started acting like a Trilby-level naive goober around Mister Wick to the point of accidentally snitching on the rest of the group.  Only, then it turns out to be a lie and those memories are gone.

For me, I think one of the worst things Morenthal might end up dealing with in the aftermath of having his memory fixed isn’t the specific feeling of personal betrayal or the potential shame at having been caught: it’s the realisation that he was always alone.   That there was no mortal on the outside who cared or came for him when he needed them – just him and the distant fondness of a Divine.  That would be awful beyond words, and yet the Flower Crowns were forced to inadvertently inflict it upon him in order to restore his mind.  No wonder he wouldn’t look any of them in the eye before the session closed.

Worse still, the nature of the key makes it incredibly hard not only to trust others, but to trust your own mind.  The players and audience above-table know that Morenthal is back to experiencing and remembering reality as it happened, but the question could very well linger for him, bringing with it a hefty dose of paranoia.  Sure, Morenthal correctly remembers that Coil is a straightforward, loyal person who wouldn’t be tempted to tamper with his mind beyond undoing Jonathan’s manipulations… but he “remembered” that about Mister Wick too, and wouldn’t that be a beneficial thing for the Party to have him think?   To Morenthal, people were already Not Safe™, but now the one person he ever believed might be had actually violated him worse than anyone else in order to force and abuse that trust.  How is he supposed to trust anyone if he can’t trust the authenticity of his own recollections.  (I get the feeling that Morenthal probably isn't going to be capable of relaxing until the Shaper of Minds is confirmed to either be locked back safely in the Vaults of Eversteel or fully removed from the Mortal Plane by Six).

It makes it really tragic that all of this came directly on the back of Episode 23, where Gamb revealed during the above-table break chat that - even if Morenthal didn’t recognise why – he unconsciously trusted Trilby and Gelnek enough to jump off the airship without checking that his rope was secure, because deep-down he knew they would catch him.  To go from that high-point to the whiplash of him first thinking the Flower Crowns had killed the only person he was ever “safe” with, then them inadvertently subjecting him to the most painful realisation he could ever experience and potentially leaving him wondering whether he can even trust his feelings about them is absolutely gutting.

I think the thing that scares me most about how the aftermath could potentially play out is another trait that Gamb and Dan have established for Morenthal: he's a flight-risk.   He shies away from letting people get close and, if he feels unsafe enough, he runs.  It’s already been mentioned/implied that he’s considered fleeing the group at multiple different points across the sessions.  And with him likely not feeling safe even in inside his own mind right now, that risk is probably at an all-time high.  The poor lad is staring down the barrel of a potentially-impending multi-level emotional crisis, where a lifetime of instincts will probably be urging him to run hard and fast because People Are Not Safe™.

And the thing is, that instinct isn’t a good one for him either.  Morenthal might have gotten by on his own “just living to be” up until Filgrove, but that feels a lot more like surviving out of necessity than having an actual life.  It’s pretty obvious that he pushes people away as a defence mechanism:  if you don’t care about anyone then you can’t be hurt by them or have those people used against you.  But if you don’t let yourself care and feel things, you’re not really living.  The truly tragic part of his running being a potential foreseeable outcome is that the Flower Crowns are good for Morenthal.  (I doubt Morenthal realises it and can’t speak to Gamb’s above-table thought process but it’s interesting that one potential interpretation of Morenthal’s cynical, faux-apathetic, “stinky” behaviour is that of a former abused child quietly testing the boundaries of whether he’s allowed to exist in a way that’s inconvenient for others, to which the answer from the Party has largely been yes provided he isn’t actively encouraging Trilby to get himself killed, or killing people without explaining himself).  He survived alone before because that was all he knew, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t do so well if he tried to go it solo again after being with people (he’s already confessed that the idea of Feyli being gone makes him miss her).   That’s not a road to walk on his best day, let alone with his current headspace and tendency towards self-destructive choices. 

It reminds me a lot of this article:

“Still, it’s easier for us to keep blaming ourselves because it’s preferable to facing the unthinkable: the fact that our parents don’t love us. …  Most people would rather do anything than accept this as the truth. Not only is it painful; it’s humiliating.”

So yeah, suffice to say I am incredibly concerned about how Morenthal’s arc is going to play out over the next session(s).  Here’s hoping that Gelnek and/or Coil have enough emotional savvy to keep an eye out, and enough patience to stick to him even if he lashes out in attempt to drive them off.  Even if it all works out okay, I get the feeling that this one’s going to be ugly.

Can’t wait to see how everyone chooses to play it ❤️‍🩹

#The Shaper of Minds #An artefact that is absolutely fascinating and whose implications make me PHYSICALLY NAUSEOUS if I contemplate them too much #(So now I must share that nausea with you all) #Session 26 is going to be so rough for the poor guy I feel anxious just thinking about it #I am CONCERNED FOR THE LAD #there is a nonzero chance that he could walk away from the best thing that's ever happened to him and that terrifies me #Also just to say: this is NOT me trying to enforce a certain reading of events or backseat game how Gamb and the cast should play things #I'm just indulgently speculating because I have a personal interest in trauma recovery and character analysis is my great love #child abuse discussed cw #gaslighting discussed cw #existential horror #Dan Jones and Dragons #DJ&D #The Flower Crowns of E'lythia #A Party to Forget #DJ&D Meta #DJ&D Spoilers #Morenthal #Morenthal (Wolfsbane) #Character analysis #(Also for anyone unfamiliar with this campaign: Yes. The villain of this arc WAS named Jon Wick. DJ&D is great) #3WD

[strang3lov3]

For Science

Soft!Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel’s heart breaks at your misery when you’re on your period, so he does what he can to alleviate your pain. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, blowjobs, fingering, awkward Joel and Reader, period cramps, period sex, unprotected PIV. sweet sweet joel. Mutual pining

W/C: 4k

A/N: For all the menstruating Joel girlies, this one’s for you. And me too, because this shit fucking sucks. Admittedly this is very self indulgent. This isn't my favorite fic, but I hope you guys like it anyway. I feel like it's devoid of a lot of typical period fic tropes so I am unsure if y'all will enjoy. Have a great weekend!

btw, send me an ask or comment if you aren't tagged and would like to be! mwah kisses love you all <3

masterlist

as always, please leave me a comment or reblog if you liked the story! i am desperately in need of validation

Knock knock knock. “You okay in there? Haven’t seen you at all today, honey,” Joel asks as your door swings open slightly. His brows are knit together and his soft eyes are big and worrisome.

Joel hates seeing you like this. You’re huddled with your knees curled into your chest on your bed, trying to will away the pain. Your hands are clutching your stomach, you’re quietly moaning in agony. 

“I think I’m getting sick,” you rasp out, your voice weak. It started with a dull ache in the pit of your stomach that didn’t seem to leave. Then came the nausea. 

“Sick, hm? Can I come in?” Joel asks you. You nod yes, and the door opens wider. His footsteps are soft towards the bed as he sits next to you. “Let me check you for a fever?”

You nod again, not having much energy to use your voice. Joel places a palm first on your forehead, then your cheek. Not satisfied with the results, he repeats the action with the back of his hand. It’s such an unexpectedly sweet and caring gesture, your eyes prick with tears. 

“Not terribly warm,” he mumbles. And then it catches his eye: that rusty bloodstain on your bed, heavy and concentrated to a few square inches. He leans over to check your backside, where he finds the stain mirrored on your pants. “Think you started your period, honey.” he whispers. 

The cramps and nausea feel all too familiar now. 

You hadn’t had a period since the beginning of your trek across the country with Joel and Ellie. Not that it was a super regular occurrence before that, but you often gave your food to the younger girl. Being so malnourished, your period disappeared. It was a welcome exit, your period was always exceptionally painful and miserable for you. 

“Oh,” you move your hand to your ass and press your fingers into where you think the bloodstain should be. And yup, there it is. “Shit.” you grumble, looking at the matching bloodstain on your blanket. The last thing you wanted to do today was laundry. 

Your cheeks heat up slightly. Hiking halfway across the country with someone, modesty is usually thrown out the window. You and Joel have seen each other in all sorts of intimate states, too intimate for the type of relationship you share. But still, you can’t help but be slightly embarrassed.

He must see your blush. “Hey, it’s alright,” Joel assures you softly. “I was gonna go over to Tommy and Maria’s anyway to do some laundry. Why don’t you let me wash your blanket and those clothes, hmm?”

“You really don’t have to, Joel,”

He ignores your gentle protesting. “Nonsense. I’m gonna give ya some privacy for a second, leave what you want washed outside your door. I’ll be back in a few hours,” 

You smile gently, scolding him in your mind. He doesn’t need to be doing all of this for you. He smiles back, warm and shy, before exiting your room and shutting the door behind him. 

You strip, changing into some sweats and fresh panties. In the bathroom are some reusable pads made from old towels that Maria gifted you when you first arrived in Jackson with Joel and Ellie. She gave the last menstrual cup to Ellie, who’s at school today. You put on a pad, toss your soiled clothing outside the door, and curl up with a book on your bed.

Joel lets himself inside Tommy and Maria’s home. Yes, there’s a community laundromat. But those often require socializing, which Joel is not much a fan of. Tommy and Maria generously offered you and Joel their to use washer and dryer instead.

He places the basket of laundry on top of the dryer and begins filling the washer with your clothes and blankets, none of his own, and sprinkles in some detergent. 

Joel lied. He did his laundry yesterday. But he knew how ill you were feeling, and Joel, ever the gentleman, decided to take it upon himself to take care of this for you. The grumpy asshole did have a heart after all. 

“Back so soon?” A voice interrupts. Joel turns to look, it’s Maria standing in the kitchen with her baby on her hip. “Didn’t you do laundry yesterday?”

“I did, yeah,” Joel responds. 

Maria notices your soiled panties sitting on top of the blanket she recognizes as yours in the washer. “She got her period, I’m guessing?”

Joel nods. “Yeah, figured I’d take care of the laundry for her,” “Well aren’t you kind,” Maria says, impressed. Not many guys would take care of washing a woman’s period-bloodied clothing. “I thought she might be starting soon. Noticed yesterday at the dining hall she was complaining of cramps and such. She also seemed a little moodier than usual.”

Joel shuts the lid and turns on the washer. “I thought so too,” he agrees. “She was a little irritable.”

Maria puts on a pot of coffee and offers Joel a cup, to which he accepts. For a while they talk about Tommy, then their new baby. When the washer finishes, Joel moves the clothes and blanket to the dryer. 

“I can drop those off for you if you’d like,” Maria offers. “You may wanna get back and make sure your girl’s doing okay.”

“That’d be great, I was actually thinkin’ the same thing,” Joel thanks Maria. “You don’t have any pain meds, do you? Poor thing looks terrible. She’s all curled up into herself, barely speakin’ to me.”

“No, I don’t, unfortunately,” 

Joel sighs. “How do you deal with it, then? Cramps and all that,”

“Well, a warm bath always helps. So does a heating pad if she has that,” Maria says. 

Joel nods his head. “Is there anything else? Tea? Somethin’, anything. I mean, this girl is absolutely miserable,”

“Well,” Maria starts, unsure if she’s ready to reach this level of personal with her brother-in-law. “Orgasms.”

Joel sputters into his mug as he chokes on the coffee in his mouth. “Pardon?”

“Yeah, orgasms. Have sex with her. It’s what I recommend to all the women here. It does help the cramps subside, at least for a bit,” Maria says. Joel’s face drops, his eyes go wide. “What, are you afraid of blood or something? You’re washing her bloody clothes…”

“No, no. It’s uh, it’s not that. We aren’t…we’ve not…”

Maria stops Joel, understanding. “My apologies. I thought you guys were together like that. Well, God gave women fingers for a reason,” she says, very matter of factly.

Joel blushes, images of you and your wandering fingers flooding his imagination. “Got it,” is all he says. No fucking way in hell he’s going to tell you to masturbate to alleviate your cramps. That can most definitely be a conversation between you and Maria another time, when Joel is far away from you both.

He awkwardly says goodbye then, making his way back to your shared home. Maria sends him home with some potato soup, instructing him to heat it up for you. It’s good comfort food, she says. 

In your bedroom, you look to be in about the same position as you were before. Whimpering in pain, rocking your body back and forth in the fetal position. Anything to shake the hurt away. 

“Hey darlin’, Maria gave me some potato soup to heat up for you. Can I make you some?” Joel’s back in your doorway, his tall frame leaning across the rickety old wood. 

“No, thank you,” you whisper. “Not really hungry.” “Figures. That’s alright. Anything else I can do?”

No, you tell him. Not unless he’s willing to be your human body pillow. This entire time you’ve been bleeding, you’ve been aching for comforting touches. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, warm hands pressing on your lower tummy. The other hand holding your own, thumb tracing back and forth on your skin. Soft kisses on your forehead, your hair. You just want to be loved, gently. The way you so deserve. 

Joel turns to leave then, just about shutting the door behind him. 

Maybe…

“Joel?” you call out. 

“What’s up, honey?” 

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe hold my hand. Just for a second,”

Joel smiles sadly through the crack of the door. “Of course,” he says tenderly, like it shouldn’t have even been a question on your mind. Of course he’ll hold your hand.  He meets you at the bed, sitting awkwardly next to you. He offers you his hand, which you take in both of yours. It’s dry and calloused, but so warm and comforting. “Squeeze me as hard as you need, alright? I can handle it.” Joel adjusts slightly so he’s laying next to you, his other hand stroking your hair. He smiles to himself, small and genuine. 

A wave of ache overtakes your body, beginning in your abdomen and spreading up your chest and down your thighs. Your breasts are heavy and swollen and aching angrily. You groan in agony. “Fuck,” you whimper. 

“What hurts? Where?”

“Everywhere,” you cry. Your hands leave his, and they find their way to his torso. You grasp his sides in your fists and squeeze, but he doesn’t complain. It doesn’t hurt, and even if it did, you’re hurting worse. In truth, he’s savoring the warmth your bodies create together. He loves being able to comfort you like this. 

Joel wraps his arms around your back, dragging his fingertips up and down your spine. “You’re breakin’ my heart, honey,” he whispers. “Let me help you. What can I do?” he asks, hot breath tickling your ear.

“I don’t think you want to,” you murmur.

“Try me,”

You sigh, sitting up on his chest slightly. “Can you…massage me? My chest?” 

Joel’s breath hitches and he shuffles awkwardly. “I suppose,” he starts. 

“I’m sorry. I just need your strong hands, I tried doing it myself but–”

“No, yeah. Of course,” Joel interrupts. He’s at a loss for words, more filthy images of you flooding his mind. Just like before, at Maria’s. “It’s what friends are for, right?” He cringes inwardly at the word he uses. Friends. 

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble. 

“Nonsense, honey,” he hushes you. “Sit up, turn around. I’ve got you.” 

You trust Joel completely. He can be rough around the edges, but you know how soft and nurturing he is on the inside. Joel is meant for this, taking care of the people he loves. 

He spreads his legs and you lean back into the soft warmth of his torso, holding onto his denim clad thighs. He’s awkward to start, still unsure of how to do this, exactly. You take his hands and drag them up, up your tummy, stopping for a second to savor the heat from his palms radiating through to your abdomen, then continue pushing them up your body. You stop just before your breasts, his thumbs lightly tracing the soft flesh of your tits.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice steady and calm but slightly nervous. He wonders if you can hear the way his voice is wavering slightly. 

“Mhm,” you mumble. 

And then he gets to work. Gently, timidly, he runs his hands over the soft flesh of your breasts, then your nipples. You groan at the contact on your sensitive buds. He squeezes gently, then increases pressure experimentally. He can feel how swollen you are as he explores every inch of your chest. 

“Doin’ alright?” he asks, fingers and thumbs digging deep into your breasts. He massages you intently and with such tenderness, his gentle caretaking instincts taking over. 

It hurts so fucking good. The ache is amplified yet dissipates with each motion of his palms. “Yeah, harder. Don’t stop,” you plead desperately. 

Joel swallows thickly and increases pressure again. “Like this?”

“Just like that, Joel. So good,”

God, how sinful you sound. Whimpering and moaning for him, begging for more. Shit, not now. Not fucking now, he thinks as his cock begins to harden under you. “Fucking moron,” he whispers. 

“What?” 

Joel freezes. “Shit. I uh, wasn’t callin’ you a moron. Sorry,” he apologizes gruffly. “It’s me. I’m the moron.”

“Why are you a moron?”

“I’m gettin’ a bit hard. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He feels heat rise up his neck and to his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to.”

“My tits are in your hands, Joel, I get it. I don’t mind,” you assure him. You feel his cock half hard, pressing into your lower back and you shift a little. You both notice how he grows harder at your adjustment.

Joel chuckles awkwardly, trying to break the tension. “I’m only a man, hon. Can’t help it,” 

“You’re okay, Joel. I promise,” You chuckle with him, sighing and resting your head back on his chest again as he starts massaging you once more. The stubble on his jaw tickles your face, his chest rises and falls with every second. You share a moment in the silence, made slightly awkward by Joel’s arousal. You wince as another strong cramp overtakes your body, and you curl up into Joel.

“Cramps?”

“Cramps,” you mumble. “I don’t think you can massage those away, though.”

“No, probably not,” he mumbles. “Not with my hands, at least.”

“With what, then?”

Did he really just say that? You really are a fucking moron, Miller. 

“At Maria’s today, she told me a way to alleviate cramps,” he starts, speaking slowly, like he’s whispering a secret that’s not his to tell. 

“How?”

“Orgasms,” he whispers stiffly. He presses his lips together in a thin line and looks up towards the ceiling. 

“Oh,”

“I could give you some privacy if you wanted to try that out,” he mumbles. 

“Why would you do that?” you turn to look at Joel, who is bashful and looking down. He looks at you with an eyebrow raised, and you continue, “Didn’t you just say you could make the cramps go away, just not with your hands?”

“W-well, yeah, but,” he stutters. 

“I have been so fucking horny. And you’re hard too, so,”

Joel’s eyebrow is still raised, he’s eyeing you suspiciously. “Are you askin’ what I think you’re askin’?”

“You already washed my bloody panties. I’m guessing blood isn’t an issue for you,”

“No, no. ‘Course not. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah, you know. For science. For the sake of experimentation,”

Joel smirks mischievously. “Nothin’ wrong with a little experimentin’,” he agrees. You smile at the twang of his Texas accent. 

You share another awkward moment, both unsure of how to continue this scientific endeavor. Joel makes the first move this time. “Come here,” he breathes, lifting you into his lap. “Kiss me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, intertwining your fingers in the grey-brown curls at the base of his neck. His hands are on your waist, holding you steady with your thighs straddling his. He leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss, his lips are slightly chapped but so deliciously soft and warm against yours. He tastes like himself and nothing more, but his taste is addictive nonetheless. 

You grind your pelvis into his bulge, whimpering at the contact on your sensitive heat. You’re craving more than his kisses, needing to feel all of him. His weight on your body, his skin on yours. His member deep inside you, massaging that spot that makes your head spin. “More,” you whine. 

He hums in amusement against your lips, thrusting his hips into yours. Cheeky motherfucker. 

You swat his arm lightly. “Don’t tease, Joel. I need you,”

“I know ya do. Let’s get you warmed up then, hm?” you nod hurriedly, leaning back. Joel pulls you back in for a kiss, his hand snaking under both your sweatpants and panties. “This alright?”

“Yes, fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers dip further, gathering your wetness and circling back up to your clit. He traces slow, steady circles into your bud, taking his time with you. He pushes his middle two fingers deep inside you, fingers curling up and hitting that sweet spot. You gasp and whimper into his mouth. 

Joel loves taking his time with you. Playing with your body like a musical instrument, eliciting moans and whimpers from deep inside. Watching you dance for him, falling to pieces under his touch. 

“So pretty like this,” he praises you. 

You kiss him again and hop off his lap, he pulls his hand away from your core, quickly hiding it from your sight. He doesn’t need you feeling any shame or embarrassment of your body doing what it was meant to do. “Get a towel?” you ask him. 

“‘Course, honey,” Joel sits up and grabs a towel from the linen closet, then walks back to your room. He shuts and locks the door behind him before laying the towel down on the bed. You stand up to meet him, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling off his shirt. He does the same to you, helping you out of your sweats and shirt. You quickly sit down on the towel and he stands before you, cock rock hard, admiring all of the curves of your figure. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

You blush and reach forward to pull him to you. “So are you,” you tell him earnestly. He steps toward you and pushes you back, getting ready to enter you. You put a hand on his chest to stop him. 

“Is everything okay?” his dark brown eyes are big and full of worry. 

“Of course,” you say. “I’m not ready yet. I wanted to taste you,” you admit.

Joel smirks.  “You’re the one bleedin’ and cryin’ in pain, and you wanna taste me?”

You smile back. “For science, right?”

“Sure, sweetheart. For science,” Joel sits next to the towel, you lean over his lap and get ready to take him into your mouth. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts, “Like this.” Sitting next to him on the towel, he instructs you to face him and spread your legs. This way, he says, he can take care of you too. 

You lean over, making sure your heat is still accessible to him. Joel leans back onto the pillows and lets you get to work, his fingers tracing up your thigh before meeting your center once more. Your lips part around his member, tracing the soft and warm skin with your tongue. You moan when his fingers enter you again, voice sending vibrations through his cock. “Fuck, honey,” he groans. 

You play with each other like that for a while, Joel working you open with his fingers and you taking him further and further down your throat. His cock twitches, engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth. 

“Stop, stop,” he begs. “Not gonna last.”

You pull off of him with a pop, and his hands leave your body. You whine at the loss. 

“I know,” he soothes. “C’mere.” Once again, you’re in his lap, hovering over his cock. It’s held loosely between his fingers, tip prodding at your entrance. “Ready?” he asks you, his sparkly brown eyes are looking up at you, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“I need you,” you whisper desperately. And with that, Joel notches the tip at your entrance, carefully studying your features to make sure it’s not too much, not too fast, not painful. You steady yourself on his shoulders, fingernails indenting his skin. He pulls your hips down slowly, letting you savor every inch of him. He bottoms out with a deep sigh, and you lean forward to rest your forehead on his. 

“Wait,” he interrupts. You frown with concern, and he bucks his hips up. You let out a yelp, partially in pleasure, partially in surprise. Joel pulls the towel under you both. “There.”

You giggle. “Good idea,” you whisper. You stare down at him, a slight smile on his lips. You start to roll your hips, letting your clit brush the thick tuft of dark hair at the base of his cock. You whimper at the feeling. 

“Feel good, baby?” Joel asks expectedly. 

“So good, Joel” you assure him. “You feel so good,”

Joel pulls your body down to his, letting you rest on your knees. He thrusts into you rhythmically, letting you relax against him. “Fuck, you feel nice, honey. Knew you would,”

You moan and cry, kissing and whimpering into his neck. Using your sounds and the way your body reacts to his touch, he fucks you hard, intently, but gently at the same time. It’s delicious. 

You rock your hips, bouncing on his cock to match each of his thrusts. He hits that sweet spot in you repeatedly, he can feel your walls squeezing him, hear your moans becoming quicker, more frantic. “God, you’re sensitive,” he says. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes,” you whimper. “M’close, need t-to come,” 

“You can let go,” he speaks softly, voice low and gravelly. “Come for me, baby,”

You lean back, lifting your hips slightly to give his fingers access to your clit. He takes the hint and begins circling your sensitive bud once more. It doesn’t take long before you’re falling apart on his cock, your cries and moans muffled as you bite into his shoulder. 

“That’s it,” he coos, fucking you through it. 

You try to take a second to catch your breath, steady yourself, only Joel has something different in mind. He doesn’t stop fucking your pussy, overworked and overstimulated. Within minutes, you’re coming again, your pussy making a beautiful crimson mess on his pelvis and fingertips. Still fucking you, he watches you come like you’re a work of art in a museum. Taking in every detail, every twitch of your face, the way your mouth drops in pleasure, how your tits bounce with each thrust. 

“Too much, Joel,” you cry. “S’too much, please.”

“You give me one more, baby. C’mon now, want you to come with me,”

“I can’t,” you pant. “I can-” 

“Yes, you can,” he encourages firmly. His voice is sweet but stern, and it is clear your pleasure is not to be negotiated. You will come again. “One more, one more. S’all you gotta do.”

“Fuck, Joel,” 

“I know, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” 

It’s almost painful, but you focus on the pleasure building once again deep inside you. You rock your hips, grinding your clit on the pads of Joel’s calloused fingertips. Right there, right there…

“You’re makin’ such a pretty mess of this cock, darlin’. Wanna fill you up, baby,”

His sweet talking sends you reeling, you love the way he praises you. “M’close again,” 

“Right there with ya, baby,” he soothes. His thrusts are frenzied, cock throbbing inside you. “Now, baby,” he commands. “Fuck, need you to come now.”

Moans and cries spill out of your mouth like liquid sugar, thick and sweet and slow. You come on Joel’s cock for a third time, your body melting into his own. He comes with you, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours to create the most beautiful sounds to fill the room. His voice is deep and desperate, sounding like pure sex as he paints your insides with rope after rope of his seed. 

You slink on top of him, focusing on catching your breath. His skin is sticky and sweaty as he holds you in a tight embrace, his heaving chest lifting you up and down. He pulls out of you, a mess of your fluids dripping onto the towel. You curl up next to him, your head on his chest.

“Cramps?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “All better,” you pause, then speak. “But hold me some more? Please?”

“‘Course, honey. For science, right?”

You smirk. “For science,”

You lay like that for what feels like hours, Joel stroking your back tenderly. One of his strong arms wrapped around your body, his warm hand pressing into your back. His other hand is holding your own, fingers squeezing you comfortingly, thumb tracing back and forth. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, your lips. He’s loving you gently, sweetly, the way you so deserve.

tags: @swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @spideysimpossiblegirl

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #soft!joel miller #soft!joel miller x reader

[delaber]

A Date (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: you have a date and Bucky’s not exactly happy about it.

Words: 3.8K

Trope: friends to lovers 💞 with a jealous Bucky trying his best to be brave, and failing horribly.

Notes: another fluff piece to mend Bucky’s heart ❤️ honestly, I have a problem with all these fluffy fics I’ve been writing recently. I just cannot stop myself lol.

"You have a date?" he manages to splutter just before the panic takes over and makes his heart skip a few beats.

Fuck!

A fucking date?!

His fingers are slipping on the wet handle of the pan he's in the midst of cleaning, and in that moment, all he can think about is how happy he is that he's currently bent over the kitchen sink so you can't make out the shocked expression on his face.

You're nodding beside him, playing with the dishtowel you're holding but Bucky can hardly make out what you're saying when you return his question with a quiet "yeah".

His ears are ringing bells and he just wants to get the fuck out of there.

Silently, he's begging for you to stop talking. He doesn't want to know more. Doesn't want to hear what you've agreed to and who you're... - fuck, what if it's someone he knows?

What if it's Sam?!

Shit!

The panic in Bucky's chest runs amok! If he walks in on his two best friends fucking, he's gonna kill himself!

With dread, he realises that he has to know how careful he needs to be around the compound...

"With - uh - with whom?" he clears his throat and curls his toes in prepared mortification, his narrowed gaze firmly fixed on a wet piece of broccoli that's lying lonely and sad at the bottom of the sink.

Please don't say Sam, please don't say Sam...

"You know the cute guy from the coffee shop?" you answer proudly, and it makes Bucky's heart spring violently back to life. That guy??? "- he finally asked me."

Well, it's not Sam - yet somehow, it's worse.

Deep breath, he tells himself and plasters on a neutral expression as he looks up from the pan and directly into your eyes.

At least you look excited, he concludes as he takes in your dreamy little smile that's usually reserved for when vibranium fingers briefly brush over your warm skin but that he now has to share with... him. The moron in the green apron. Mr I'm-too-busy-flirting-with-your-girl-to-get-your-order-right.

Fuck, he's burning up!

"That's great, sweetheart," he hears himself croak from far away, trying his best to sound like he's happy for you and not as if his heart is in the process of being ripped out of his chest. "I'm real happy for you."

"Thanks, Buck," you playfully bump your hip against his while looking down at your hands as you once again twist the towel between your fingers.

You seem almost... nervous. This date must really be a big deal to you.

He gulps and pushes away another incoming wave of nausea. It's not as if he hasn't long ago accepted that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. You're friends. That's it.

"Are you excited?" He asks without really knowing why. He doesn't want to hear your answer. To hear you verbally confirm the look you already have on your face.

Slowly you look up at him and he has to chomp down on his inner cheek to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"You know what?" you ask quietly with a tilt of your head and Bucky's heart starts racing even harder. "- I actually am."

Even you sound surprised - not that Bucky can really blame you.

"Mmh," he merely hums and pretends there's a particularly stubborn area on the dirty pan that needs his attention.

"Is that weird?" You ask.

He can feel how the sincere question in your voice laces itself around his abdomen, squeezing him tight.

Is it wrong of him to want to snap the stupid piece of teflon-coated metal in his hand in half? You're his best friend and he should just be happy you're happy.

Fuck it, he is happy! He loves you more than anything and you deserve to feel this way - he just wishes it was because of him and not someone else.

"No, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to untie the invisible knot behind his navel as he starts scrubbing again. "Why would it be weird?"

Thankfully, you don't answer.

...

Cold droplets of water are running over your forehead and down the length of your nose, desperately trying to reduce the tension that's been resting right between your eyebrows since your conversation with Bucky last night.

Splashing your face with water is a stupid attempt to make yourself feel better - you know that - it hasn't worked the other times you've tried it and this must be the tenth attempt since you woke up this morning. The only thing that'll truly help is if Bucky would tell you what's going on.

He's been acting weird since last night, and even though you aren't sure what reaction you'd been hoping for, this definitely isn't it. You know he isn't exactly the biggest fan of the man who's taking you out for dinner later, but getting so annoyed he can barely uphold a conversation? Well, that wasn't really a scenario you'd even considered at all...

You suppose you could just tell him the truth - maybe that would make him more accepting of your choice of date - but it's not as if you can really tell him that the only reason you're going on that date to begin with is to force yourself to get over, well, him.

You've known Bucky two years now and apart from small moments here and there, nothing's happened. It's been two excruciating years full of pining and painful almosts and ifs but he clearly doesn't look at you that way and you don't want to keep putting yourself through the heartbreak. You deserve to spend your friday nights with someone who actually sees you for what you are: beautiful, smart, desirable, a woman.

And as you stand looking at yourself in the mirror, you realise that you need this date to get Bucky out of your head. Fuck if he doesn't approve of the cute guy from the coffee shop. It's none of his business who you're going out with and if he wants to be annoyed about it, then so be it.

Yet you still cannot stand the thought of him sitting by himself all night. He hasn't seemed like himself all day and you know how he can spiral over the smallest of things.

Thus, you check for Sam in the kitchen, the gym, and in the spa area in the basement of the compound, but eventually find him in the common room on the third floor, completely hypnotised as he stares at the television screen in front of him, the playstation controller grabbed tightly in his hands.

You do a quick scan around the room to confirm that it's just the two of you before you approach him. "Wilson, have you seen Bucky today?"

"Bucky? Uh - no," Sam mumbles without moving his gaze away from the animated character who's running through an abandoned city. "I assume you've already tried the dark cave he calls his room?"

"I know where he is," you sigh and flop down on the sofa next to him, stretching your legs and putting your feet in his lap. "I was just hoping that maybe you'd talked to him."

He doesn't answer apart from a few incoherent noises you're sure are for the game and not for you, so you poke at the controller with your toes to get his attention. "Sam..."

"Hey! I'm trying to save humanity from a zombie apocalypse here. Keep your stinking feet away from me," he playfully flicks the underside of your foot without sparing you a glance. "I already told you I haven't seen your siamese twin all day."

"Yeah, but do you think you could... go check on him maybe?"

"I'm busy. You go check on him."

"Sam..."

At the sound of your soft-spoken words, Sam sends you a brief side-eye before he finally tosses the controller down on the sofa table with a loud sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you shake your head innocently. Is it really your fault that Bucky is too childish to accept the man you're going out with? No.

Sam runs his eyes over you and squints hard. "You guys are usually so dependent, you're practically joined at the hip. And now you want me to go talk to him even though you didn't do anything?"

"Look, he's being weird," you sigh, "- can you just check on him? Please? Maybe have a guy's night in with beer and that stupid zombie-game you're always playing or whatever?" you gesture to the television screen where the character from before stands panting, saying random stuff every few seconds. "I don't want him to be alone."

"First of all, The Last of Us is not stupid!" Sam raises his index finger at you, feigning an insulted huff. "Secondly; a guy's night in..? While you're doing exactly what if I may ask?" he arches an eyebrow, urging you to keep talking.

"I - uh - I have plans," you say quickly and try and look determined although you can feel your entire face heating up. "...a date of sorts."

The dead-panned look on Sam's face is quickly wiped off, instead replaced with an annoyingly broad smirk. "You have a what now?" he chuckles teasingly.

"You heard me," you roll your eyes.

"Oh I heard you loud and clear," he hoots, "you are going on a date!" he says, emphasising the last word with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't be a dick about it."

"My, oh my. We're finally gonna see what kind of man that can sweep the rug from underneath you."

"Okay, I'm leaving," you make a move to stand up, but Sam interrupts you by putting his palm to your shin.

"Come on, I'm just teasing," he laughs, "tell me about your date. Who's it with? - Not Bucky, I assume."

"Why would I go on a date with Buck?" you shrug nonchalantly although you can once again feel the heat radiating through your every feature. "It's the cute blonde from the coffee house down the street."

"Oooh, the guy who looks like a young Brad Pitt but with humour?"

"That's the one," you press down on your lips and avoid looking directly at Sam. God, this is embarrassing.

"He's a cutie!" Sam teases with a chuckle.

"I know," you play with a loose thread on your shirt, avoiding his eye.

"Then why aren't you more excited about it?" He asks but immediately emits a groan, "Jesus... do not tell me it's because of Bucky?!"

"I'm worried about him," you whine and bury your face in the sofa cushions.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're going on your first date in forever and you're worried about that sourpuss?"

"Sam, you didn't see the look on his face when I told him about it! He hates the guy - I think it really upset him."

"Of course it upset him," Sam scoffs, "It's like taking candy away from someone who really wants to fuck said candy!"

Your eyes snap over to Sam in an instance. Completely taken off guard, your voice dies in your throat. Did he just...? No, surely, you must've misheard.

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed," Sam groans, "I swear to god, he's two days away from crawling behind you just so he can lick the ground you're walking on!"

The earth has stopped spinning. "W-what?"

"The puppy eyes? The 'pick me' behaviour?" he rolls his eyes at your shocked face.

Your heart starts pounding so fast you can barely keep up. "Are we talking about... Bucky? As in our Bucky?"

"Uh, huh," Sam nods as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "That guy's practically begging you to take him by the hand and lead him to your bed. He's so in love with you, it's disgusting to look at."

"He's what?!" You exclaim loudly, completely out of breath. This is definitely news to you! "No, no, no! Bucky's not in love with me, we're friends," you pant with the blood rushing past your ears.

Sam shoots you an unimpressed side-eye, "yeah keep telling yourself that"

"What do you mean?" you pant, trying to puzzle together Sam's suspicion with your disbelief.

"I swear to god, the two of you don't even have a single brain cell put together..." he rolls his eyes, "I've seen that boy almost snap his neck because you were laughing and he wanted to know what you were laughing at. Trust me when I say that he's not annoyed that you're going on that date - he's jealous."

Well... fuck!

...

You don't think you've ever been this nervous as you pace the hallway outside Bucky's bedroom. You've been here ten minutes now, desperately trying to force yourself to actually make contact with him, but you're holding yourself back. There's so much on the line and what if Sam's incorrect? Then, you will truly have mucked up and everything between you and Bucky will be ruined.

Shit!

You stop pacing. You can hear his favourite album from the forties playing on the other side of the wall but apart from that, there hasn't been a single sound from in there.

You pray he's in a better mood than when you walked in on him angrily hunched over his bowl of cereal this morning, but the fact that he put on the only type of music that can calm him down, doesn't really scream 'put-together'.

It makes you even more nervous though you know you have to talk to him at some point. It's not as if you can avoid him forever - so before you can truly think about the upside of postponing the inevitable conversation, you raise your knuckles and carefully knock on his door.

Everything inside you tenses up. You vision becomes blurry, and you seem to automatically focus all your attention on the sounds coming from inside his room. There's a short shuffle, a sigh and then an irritated "what?!" muttered from somewhere behind the walls.

This is bound to go wrong.

You consider running away and pretend you've never even been near his room, but it's too late to back out now. You have to talk to him at some point, you remind yourself.

With your nerves running wild and the blood pumping through your every vein, artery, and fibre, you open the door a little and poke your head inside his room with a small "hi," your throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He's sitting on the bed with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hand buried inside a book that's lying closed in his lap. He looks angry at everything and everyone - as if he's minutes away from strangling someone - but when he finds your eyes from across the room, the tense muscles in his cheeks seem to unclench a little.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, licking his lips. "I thought you were Sam..."

You smile, so relieved to see him softening that you automatically step inside his room without waiting for him to ask you to. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You're not," he shakes his head with a small gulp, "I thought you'd left already. Don't you have that big date?" he asks in a weird voice and sends you a stiff smile.

"Not until seven," you shrug and sit down next to him on his bed, immediately noticing how he's started avoiding your gaze.

"Right," he nods and occupies himself by putting his book on his bedside table. "So - uh - still looking forward to it?"

How do you tell your best friend that no, you're not looking forward to it because he's the one you really want to go out with?

"I don't know," you shrug, suddenly so anxious your temples have started pounding, "not really."

He finally looks up at you again, his slate blue eyes jittery as they meticulously search your face. "What happened?" He asks with tightly knitted eyebrows, "you were so excited for it yesterday."

You hesitate. "...Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly," he sits up a little straighter, a serious look on his face, "- he didn't upset you, did he?" He says on impulse, his voice suddenly dark and dripping with venom at the mere thought as he reaches out for you and puts his fingers on your arm.

"No Buck," you shake your head and take a deep breath to get your pulse under control. "He didn't upset me."

"Then what?" He squeezes your arm softly, his eyes concerned as he tries to read you, "you can tell me anything."

"I know... It's just that..." you hesitate and consider ending your sentence with I'm in love with you, but the words die in your throat.

"What sweetheart?" he shuffles a little closer to you.

"Bucky," you heave a big breath of air to prepare your bold question that can potentially change everything between you dependant on his answer. "Do you not want me to go on that date?"

"What?" his eyes immediate travel over your face and you can almost hear his pulse running haywire as his fingers let go of your arm. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just..." your breathing picks up as you scan his every anxious feature. It makes you anxious too. "- you started acting weird the minute I told you about it. You've been avoiding me all day."

His fingers find your arm again, his grip a little tighter than before as he desperately looks at you. "No, no, no, sweetheart! That's not what happened," he licks his lips and plasters on the fake smile he's been practising in the mirror all day. "- I mean... I'm not the biggest fan of the guy but who you're dating is really none of my concern. I'm sure he's great, and as long as he treats you well, I'll make sure he stays on my good side," he says softy and sends you a smile that seems a little too genuine for your liking.

You hesitate again as you check his face for cracks, but his smile stays intact and happy. "...So you're really okay with it?" you ask in a small voice, mortified.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, of course I'm okay with it!" he slides his fingers down your arm, capturing your hand inside his fist. "I really just want you to be happy. That's what's important. And you deserve to be taken care of for once instead of being stuck here with me and Sam." He reassuringly squeezes your fingers tight, but it just feels as if he's in the process of letting you go.

Slowly, you can feel your heart breaking.

You knew it... You knew Sam was wrong. Bucky isn't in love with you. Never has been. Never will be. Things are exactly the way they've always been and you're left pining after a man who doesn't want you back.

God, you feel like a idiot for getting your hopes up like that.

"Good," you nod resolutely, fighting hard to not let the heartbreak slip through your well-feigned mask. "I'm happy to hear you feel that way."

"Of course I do," he smiles solemnly.

"I should probably go get ready then..."

"Yeah," Bucky nods and lets go of you. "It's almost six."

With a sigh you hope he doesn't hear, you stand up from his bed and brush down the front of your jeans, not really sure you even want to leave his room.

He's looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Have fun," he says while his hands grab the sheets underneath him, fisting the fabric. "- can't wait to hear all about it."

"Thanks, Buck," you feign a smile to match his, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, sweetheart..."

You turn around with a wave of your hand, but the smile on your face falters the minute you've turned on your heel.

You can hear his heavy breathing over the music playing in the corner, and when you reach out for the door handle, a delicate sound finally breaks the reticence between you.

"Don't go..."

At first, you're not sure if you're imagining it, but then you hear him shuffling behind you, and when you turn around and face him, he's on his feet. "Don't go on that date," he whimpers in defeat, "I'm begging you. Please... don't go."

"Bucky..."

"I'm in love with you," he says guiltily with a gulp.

Your heart stops.

"- and I can't pretend I'm okay with you going on dates when I'm not."

You're completely speechless. You want to comment on everything. Run to him and proclaim that you're his. That you've always been his. But you're nailed to the spot and all that manages to escape your lips is a tight whimper.

"- I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now..." he closes his eyes and looks as if he's in pain. "And I know I'm risking everything by telling you this," he gulps, "but I've been keeping it in for so fucking long, trying to protect our friendship. I just can't keep pretending I don't want... more. It's stupid, I know."

"Bucky, it's not stupid," you finally manage to croak and it's as if the force that've been gluing you to the spot finally lets go. "It's not," you whisper as you take a few long strides over to him, stopping right before your chests touch. "It's not stupid," you repeat and reach a hand upwards, caressing his bearded chin.

His eyes are glistening, and his breathing is coming in ragged as he searches your face. "Sweetheart," he gulps in confusion, "I don't... - what does this mean?"

"It means -" your hand reaches up so it can rake through his hair, coming to a halt on the back of his neck where you can feel the goosebumps travel through his entire body. "- that I'm in love with you too. Have been for quite some time. Since I met you, actually."

Now it's his turn to be glued to the spot.

His mouth falls a little open and you can tell by the look on his face that he's in the process of questioning everything, so you underline your confession by putting your forehead to his. "I want to be yours," you whisper and observe him closely.

At first, he tenses even harder, but then a small smile starts tugging on his lips as he finally relaxes in your arms and pulls you closer. "I want you to be mine, too," he declares sweetly as his heart blossoms in his chest. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

"It's you," he whispers against your skin, "- It's always been you."

"Kiss me," you beam and almost cannot stop smiling silly when you reach up for his mouth, finally claiming the softest, most pillowy lips you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers #bucky barnes jealous

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Hi, please, please, please! I need a premise where Simon finds a pregnancy test in the house he shares with his wife believing it is hers, upset and anxious he asks her for explanations, without giving her the time to give an answer. The test was his girl's sister's ❤️ :')

A Good Father

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost is anxious about being a father.

SFW, Extreme Fluff, Husband!Ghost, Wife!Reader, Comfort, Pregnancy Scares, Domestic, Softness, Vulnerability, Awkward Conversations, Innocent Misunderstandings, I'm reluctant to say there's humor, Scarcely Proofread, Drabble

Personally, I do feel like Ghost would be flustered if he found out his wife was pregnant with his first child. HOWEVER, I don't think he would act rude or distant or cold. Not on purpose. This is how I interpret that I guess. And thank you anon, this was an interesting topic. If you have anymore please don't be shy! ^^

Masterlist

It'd been an accident when he found it, and the kind of accident that could put a man six feet under if you weren't careful.

It was a sunny and rare fall day in which Simon had been let off work before you for once; a welcome change to his usual routine, as he'd been looking forward to surprising you.

He started with the kitchen, knowing it had been one of your least favorite places to clean. He washed and put away the dishes before wiping down the counters, making quick work with sweeping before mopping. In the blink of an eye he'd already straightened up the living room, which made the dining room light work in comparison. All that had remained was the bathroom, your second least favorite room to clean.

When he arrived home and saw you were gone, he'd thought to himself -- What would be a better surprise than coming home to your man and a clean home? It hadn't been as often as he liked where he was given such an opportunity, so he jumped at the chance without question the second the idea popped into his mind.

There hadn't been much to contend with, a few misplaced clothes and some used towels. He'd just begun picking things up when he'd suddenly heard something small clatter against the bathroom tiles. Finally he saw the tiny, long piece of white plastic sitting tucked between the toilet and the counter -- A pregnancy test.

At first glance Simon froze, unsure as to what exactly he was even looking at. It hadn't been every day he was faced with these sorts of things; you'd only recently broken the record for being the longest relationship he's been in. So when he saw it, his mind hadn't wanted to jump to conclusions. Not at first...

...But when he picked it up off the floor and felt the thing in his hands, it was as the whole world had stopped. His brown eyes skimmed over that red plus sign at the corner of the test and reality felt anew. A positive result.

A number of emotions ran through Simon, though none could be more certain than the sudden shakiness to his grip and the tightening of his jaw. A pang of nausea coarsed through him, soon followed by a sudden guilt for that. He must have stood in that bathroom for a solid three minutes before his thoughts had somewhat gathered...

Pregnant. You were pregnant, and you didn't tell him. Why? Had you not planned on keeping it, or were you simply just waiting to break the news to him?

Robotically, naturally, Simon finds himself continuing with what he was doing before, throwing the test away and continuing with cleaning. He hadn't known what else to do really; anything else and he may just storm out and call you about it.

But no, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. His emotions are just out of sorts now and he's confused. There wouldn't be a point in channeling that confusion into anger and taking it out on you, especially since you're the one with the answers.

The final thing to clean had been the mirror. As Simon began to wipe the glass down, he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection. There he sees the battered husk he barely recognized at times. A father.

It felt unreal. Both too good to be true and a waking nightmare. He'd always dreamed of being a father some day, perhaps, in a different life which allowed him to be a part of his child's world in the proper way that he had desired. Some parts had been out of spite of his own father, having had some subliminal need to prove to a ghost what a real parent looks like. Other parts of him genuinely longed for a family of his own, and something he could be a part of from the start and see through to the end. To be a father would make him the happiest man alive.

Yet he wasn't ready, not now. Not in ways in which he felt he could really be of any use to you and your child. He feared every bit that could replicate his own childhood into his life today. There had still been so much of himself he'd felt needed to be set right before bringing someone into this world under him. He'd just wanted this moment to be perfect...

Simon didn't bring it up when you got home. Seeing the excitement on your face to see him nearly made him forget about the whole ordeal entirely. But it lingered on his mind like a heavy weight, and you could see it.

You asked him if he was OK, and despite himself he'd told you he was fine, only tired. He'd hoped that perhaps you might bring it up yourself, though you don't, merely continuing about the evening as usual.

Dinner was awkward, mainly do to Simon's stoic behavior, even moreso than usual. He stayed up to watch a movie with you, though he hadn't said much at all during it, forgoing his usual jokes and one-liners.

It hadn't been until you'd crawled into bed next to him that he finally spoke, though it hadn't been what you expected to hear.

"Do you think I'd make a good father?"

The question catches you off guard and you laugh and little, rotating yourself in his arms and resting your chin on his chest to look at him. From there you've felt his fluttering heartbeat dancing anxiously against your palms.

"Of course I do, Si'," you say. "Why?"

He's quiet again. Even in the dark you know those brown eyes are sifting through the room, looking anywhere but where you are. His hands over you shuffle slightly, and he sighs. "I have my doubts sometimes."

"I don't know why," you smile. "You're one of the best men I've ever met. I've always thought you'd make good "dad" material."

Simon can't help but smile. "Is that right?"

"I mean you've already got the dad jokes down," you tease. "What more do you need?"

You both laugh lightly to each other, and Simon feels a warmth grow in him that only you seem able to bring forth. Even when you know something is on his mind, you go out of your way to make him smile first. It's these reasons he loved you.

"Is this your way of saying you're interested in... trying?"

Unsure of what ruse you were playing now, and no longer being able to hold himself back any longer, Simon sits up, signaling to you that this was about to become something much deeper than anticipated.

"No," he says rather coldly. Too blunt for what he'd intended.

"Oh," you say, unable to hide the disappointment in you tone. You then look up to him, confused. "Is something the matter? You've been acting odd since I got home."

"I'm just wondering when you're going to break the news to me."

"The news?"

"Your first step into motherhood."

You pause. "My... what? What are you on about?"

"I found the pregnancy test."

You pause again, audibly making a confused "oop" noise as you tried to figure out what it was your husband was talking about. "Pregnancy test?"

The confusion in your tone now only makes Simon pause. "Yes," he says. "A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test."

You're sitting there racking through your brain now, trying to recall when it was you took this said test. Having brought it up, all the thoughts Simon's had little time to sort through can't help but spill from him now.

"I'm not mad," he leads with. "I'm just... I wasn't...

"Oh!" You interject suddenly, a light bulb going off over your head. "That was my sister's!"

"...Wha'?"

"My sister came over this morning. She didn't want our mom to find it so I said she could do it here," you explain, before chuckling. "Though I'm gonna have to yell at her later since can't clean up after herself... Didn't mean to spook you though, love."

Simon sits there silent and frozen, still processing the last minute. "...So you're not pregnant then?"

"No," you laugh. "Not that I know of anyway."

No. He won't be a father after all. If he'd felt his emotions swirling earlier, they've torn into a twister now. He won't be a father.

It disappointed him, despite his reluctance earlier. Had he been looking forward to it more as the day went on? This was for the best, nonetheless. Now at least he could breathe again.

"Fuckin' hell," Simon lets out a heavy sigh, a boulder of stress dropping from his shoulders like a landslide. "Don't scare me like that, love. Y'nearly did me in with that."

You smirk, climbing back onto Simon until your legs were straddling him against the bed. You lean forward, letting your nose brush his and his breath detail his presence to you in the dark. Before you've kissed him, you linger there for a spell, simply marinating in the moment.

"I still think you'd make a wonderful father, Si'."

You feel him sigh, his body sinking comfortably beneath you, as you've felt his callous palms cup your cheeks gently.

"You'd make a beautiful mother."

"I'm still up for trying," you say. "If you think we're ready, I mean..."

Simon pulls you in, until your lips have found his, locking in its familiar ways. Between the soft pecks he'd left, he spoke to you softly, holding you close.

"We're not getting any younger."

(╹◡◠)

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost simon riley #simon riley #ghost

[moonstruckme]

could i request Scamander!Reader x Remus Lupin? Maybe they have been going on dates for a few months but turns out she knew he was a werewolf? She just didn't say anything cause she wanted to wait for him to tell her, but after a full moon, Remus got hurt like really really bad so when he wakes up the next morning he is at nursing and the reader is helping with his wounds (cause she's an scamander so she obviously should now how to fix werewolfs wounds fr)

and remus kinda freaks out because she isn't supposed to be there and starts trying to make excuses about his wounds

Thanks for requesting! I'm not a Scamander myself hehe so I had to look up some werewolf stuff but I hope this is alright :)

Remus Lupin x Scamander!reader ♡ 653 words

Remus wakes feeling like he always does after a full moon: exhausted, groggy, and so, so sore. From the brightness against his eyelids and the sounds around him, he knows he's in the infirmary. It's not uncommon, and as humiliating as the whole ordeal can be, he's glad to have Madam Pomfrey to care for him as he heals from the previous night's...events.

But when he opens his eyes, it's not Madam Pomfrey that sits at his bedside, applying some sort of paste to the gouge across his ribcage.

He must inhale or twitch in his surprise, because your attention turns to his face, your hands stilling.

"You're awake," you say, looking at Remus with eyes full of kindness and sympathy. He feels like he might vomit. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he says, too sharply, and hurt flashes across your features. Remus' heart is pounding, but he forces himself to take a breath, muzzling his panic. Still, his voice trembles slightly as he asks, "Y/N, love, what are you doing here?"

You smile softly, and Remus knows he's forgiven. "I knew there was some dittany in the greenhouse, so I thought I'd bring some to help heal you."

"I..." Why weren't you asking more questions? You and Remus had only been dating for a few months, and you'd yet to see him in the aftermath of a transformation. He hadn't had to lie to you yet, to make up excuses for why he missed days of class every month and reappeared with new scars. "I was out with Sirius and James last night, and we got fairly wasted." He forces what he hopes is a sheepish grin, though it doesn't feel very convincing. "I took a tumble down a hill, and well..." he gestures to his torn-up torso, shrugging as if it's just further evidence of he and his friends' foolishness.

"Remus," you say, and the nausea is back, your tone far too knowing for Remus' liking, "honey, it's okay. I wanted you to be able to tell me in your own time, but after last night..." You pause, your face pinching in distress as your eyes run over his wounds, ugly and oozing. "I couldn't just not help anymore. I'm sorry."

Remus' stomach is really roiling now, his entire body caught between fight and flight as he reckons with the shock of your admission and his bafflement at your composure. "You knew?" His voice comes out accusatory, but he can hardly muster the energy to correct it. "For how long?"

"I mean, it took me a couple weeks of getting to know you to figure it out." You shrug, going back to gently pressing the dittany to his wounds. "But really, Remus, it doesn't matter to me. I only care about being able to be there for you, to help."

A couple weeks, it'd taken you to learn his secret. So you'd known for months, while Remus had fretted over hiding his headaches from you and worrying that you'd eventually see him just like this, and now here you were. Remus takes a moment to look at you, the tenderness with which you touch him, careful to avoid hurting him further, the patience in your eyes as you wait for his response.

"You really aren't afraid?" he asks. Despite years of sharing all of himself with James and Sirius, Remus finds himself nearly unable to trust it. "Disgusted? Angry with me?"

The look you give him borders on offence, though there's still that same gentle sympathy in your eyes. "Merlin, Remus, of course not. I know it can't be easy for you, and I wouldn't expect you to tell me before you're ready. It's just...another part of you." You smile a bit, and Remus can't help but return it, bewildered and feeling very much on the precipice of falling in love. "And I like all of you, so there."

#remus lupin #werewolf remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #scamander!reader #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff

[petalsofyouth]

bees that flew away | ran haitani x reader

warnings: drugs usage and alcohol consumption, implied self-harm, unreliable narrator, mentions of a rape (nothing graphic, it's just there), sweet gentle love.

wc: 16 473

author's note: i started writing it on the verge of death and it shows. in the middle of writing it i felt fine and finishing it i was dying once again. oh, and, also! it's a bit unedited. i doubt there are some actual crucial mistakes, but there must be something i overlooked, i'll get to it tmw. so bear in mind that it's unedited. i just wanted to post this, because otherwise i would delay it and delay it and delay it all over again.

_ The room is foggy and you wonder if it’s from five - you counted - lit cigarettes or it’s just your tired drunk brain. It wouldn’t be the first time you conjured something out of nothing. Shaped it in between your fingers and gave it form. Brought it to life.

Your lips quiver and you press them together, averting your red high eyes from you don’t know who. You probably look pitiful and scared because Haruchiyo reaches over and snakes his long arm around your shoulders, hugging you closer to his body. It’s hot in here, but for one reason or another, he is still wearing his favourite old leather jacket. Now, hours into the party, its surface absorbed all the nasty smells of this huge house in Yokohama. It stinks and you gag. 

His long bleached hair smells even worse and you gag again. This time closing your mouth with your palm and he looks at you, worry in his hooded eyes.

He should offer you a glass of water and maybe a ride home, you think. If he was a better - maybe normal - friend. But he does neither of that. He takes the joint from his lips and holds it close to your mouth. When you don’t move, just staring at him as if you don’t understand what he wants from you, he sighs and smiles.

Sweetly.

Haruchiyo is a sweet guy. Your best friend.

Deep down the fuckery that he is he is indeed very sweet and kind; pure.

“Come on,” he urges you, tapping on your shoulder. “Relax. Tensing up and thinking won’t do you any good. Be nice. Open your mouth.”

You do just that and when he places a cigarette between your lips you inhale. Toxic green smog invades your lungs and the nausea subsides. Once again you feel light and careless. You feel almost happy. The knocking on the back of your head and in your heart dies. Killed by your own stupid hands. If Rindou were here you suppose he would’ve been very mad at you. 

For killing and for not caring. For pretending. “Truth or dare?” 

The girl speaks to you and you know that. You feel her stare on yourself and if you weren’t so high you would see the expecting, oh so spiteful, glint in her eyes. If you were sober you would’ve noticed it and probably still would’ve done nothing.

That’s just the way you are. 

“Truth.” She licks her glowing with gloss lips and smiles. Her friend, a girl with uneven bangs and the longest hair you’ve ever seen in your life, just beneath her hips, giggles. They share a glance. A knowing one. The trap they settled for you closing with a loud thump. 

On the right side, with his arms across the girl's shoulders sits Ran Haitani. She’s almost between his legs, but not quite, and yet there’s a striking familiarity that surrounds them. Maybe it’s in a way his thumb caresses the bare skin of her shoulders or maybe it’s her leaning even more into his broad chest when she catches you watching them. 

Either way your hands shake and it might be the alcohol or weed or something entirely else. You don’t bring yourself to care. You simply can’t. 

“So,” the girl speaks. Despite the music and the fog around your senses you can hear her clearly. “Is it true that there are burning marks on your upper thigh?” You tense and beside you Haruchiyo tenses too. But the girl continues, “Is it true that you burnt yourself because you hate yourself? Is it true that you always do it high because you are a fucking coward to do it sober?” Your eyes are open and no matter how much you want to close them and squint them hard, you won’t. You stare at the girl as she spews your silly little sins out like they are nothing; like you are nothing. “Is it true that you wanted to fuck Ran, but he said no, because you are..?” 

She never finishes her sentence and for the rest of your life you can only guess what insult she had prepared for you. 

The table that stood between you falls to the side when Haruchiyo’s Docs comes in contact with it. Ashtrays, bags and glasses scatter on the hardwood floor and you stare at them for quite a time, unable to look at anything or anyone else. The girl screams and her friend screams too and suddenly you aren’t that high anymore and you want to get out of this house, of this party. Out of the sight of all those people. Your body trembles and Haruchiyo, who tightly holds your hand, nudges you to stand up. You do as he asks, because you're tired and because you’ll go anywhere he’ll take you. If Rindou was here, he would’ve hated you not fighting back, but he is not and you are glad there’s one reason less for him to be disappointed in you. “Pathetic fucking excuse of a woman,” Haruchiyo spits at the girl and you tune out, losing yourself in the broken glass on the floor. It’s pretty with myriads of lights - lives - in every broken shard. They are colourful and full of hidden senses you don’t understand. 

In the corner of your vision you notice Haruchiyo raising his free hand. The girl screams again and this time when you finally raise your eyes, you see her face and pretty white t-shirt with one of Sanrio characters on it wet with whatever alcohol Haruchiyo had in his cup. A few splashes of it hit Ran’s cheek and arm too, but it’s hard to say what he is thinking. He was never one to betray his mind and show it off to everyone and besides you don’t look at him for too long. The cup and the remnants of a joint goes straight to the floor too. Haruchiyo steps on them and curses again. 

“Tame your fucking bitch, Haitani. Next time I won’t see that she’s a woman.” With this you leave. Hand in hand, with bitter hearts, you swim between the people and friends, until you are out of the house, in the fresh air outside. The night that meets you is starry and cold and so it’s very beautiful. Both you and Haruchiyo, stand on the side of the street, near the house in silence, clearly absorbed in surroundings. There’s a black cat watching you across the pavement and somewhere in the bushes is a cicada. Or maybe there are many. You have no way of knowing. The smoke of the cigarette - a regular one - hits your nose and you wonder how in the world have you missed the familiar click of Haruchiyo’s favourite ZIPPO lighter. His older brother gifted it to him when he was barely fifteen. The gift is quite questionable and Haruchiyo is not very sentimental, but he always has it with him. There’s a naked woman engraved on it and he fooled you to believe that’s why. The door behind you sways open, but none of you is interested to know who it is. Maybe it’s no one important. Maybe you both should leave and forget this night like many others. But it’s Kakucho and he gently places his huge brown jacket across your shoulders and so you stay for a little bit longer. His harsh presence cuts the night in two and what happened before suddenly turns into an ugly illusion. The cat yawns and you are reminded of how late it actually is.  “True,” you say after the night digs dipper and the smoke of Haruchiyo’s cheap cig envelopes you. 

The boys are quiet. Kakucho turns his head to look at you and you smile shyly under his curious gaze. It’s not like anything really matters. 

“It’s true. Only I never wanted to fuck Ran. I just wanted to share the love I have for him.” Haruchiyo sighs, dropping unfinished cigarettes onto the pavement. You hope the cat's paws won’t touch it and burn. As it hurts when it burns. Very very much so. “Who the fuck cares if it’s true or not?” “I hate to admit it,” Kakucho sighs pretentiously, a kind smile smudged across his lips, “but I do agree with Haru. Who the fuck cares?” Drops of alcohol on his cheek. Little perfect pearls. Wet black blouse. Cold dead eyes. He doesn’t look at you. He never does. He used to, but not anymore and besides it was so long ago, it’s like it’s never happened. Old images of false memories your brain conjured by itself with a sole reason to feel something; anything at all. 

The cat disappears, night swallowing it whole, and you wish it would do the same to you. But beside you two boys bicker so loudly it would never happen. Their voices tie you to them and despite your strong wish to disappear into thin air, you are glad they make you stay. “Do you wanna get going? You are crashing at mine, right?” Haruchiyo asks, stretching out his hand, palm up. You don’t need to think about it, but you still do, taking a little pause before you reply. “Yes. I can’t show up like this at home. Mom’s gonna cry again.” None of these boys know what it means for a mom to cry. And yet they understand the ache and the heartbreak. The sacred prayer to be a better child someone somewhere could be proud of.

Before you part ways, you and Haruchiyo go to find his parked motorcycle and Kakucho his old sporty car he bought with money he probably stole from someone, you shrug Kakucho’s jacket off your shoulders. “No. Take it. You can return it any other time. I don’t mind.” He smiles at you and his smile reaches his eyes. 

_ 

Haruchiyo’s apartment is small, but it’s only his and that is something to be proud of. 

The bathroom is all fogged up from the hot shower you just took. You slip into a pair of clean boxers, old grey sweatshirts and plain white t-shirt. They don’t smell like anything, but they are so undeniably Haruchiyo’, your heart swells. You love your best friend to death. 

“I hate the post high,” he murmurs when you sleep under the duvet next to him. “How are you feeling?” “Like shit and worse.” 

He giggles, but then he grows serious and his hand slides across the bed. He is searching for your hand, to take it into his and calm you down, to show his love. You help him find it. “Your scars are just scars and she is just a bitch. Don’t think about her.” When you don’t reply, he adds. “I know you do. You are breathing strangely.” And when you don’t say anything else, he speaks again. “I have never spoken about those things with anyone. And I can give my head that Rindou hadn’t either. I don’t know how she knows.” 

Those things that are your feelings, your inner world and ugly cracks all over your body. 

Those fucking things. Involuntarily, without your mind's consent, you curl into yourself. Cold attacks your limbs like thousands of small invisible needles and you weep, and Haruchiyo understands why and for what. All the reasons are so plain, they are written in black ink on white paper. You hate that you are so easy to crack open. You want to be something else entirely. 

“I love you,” he shifts closer to you and soon you are one body, “However you are. Okay?” His long beautiful fingers hold your own hands near his bare chest. He twirls your many many rings and swipes his thumb across your skin. Haruchiyo is a gentle creature and you don’t know where it all went wrong and when sleeping pills in his cupboard became dust to snort up his nose. 

“Okay.” 

He smiles at that and checks the window behind you. It’s still dark. The dawn - nowhere in sight. Good. So so so good. Before he closes his eyes, he presses his lips against your damp forehead and then under each of your eyes, kissing the tears and headache away. Somehow he manages to do just that and you fall asleep with a light heart. _

Two summers ago, on the warm evening of the last August day, your careless youth slipped away from you.

It’s an irony that it happened when the sun was setting and a small part of you remained forever imprisoned in that pleasant August day, while another you strode forward to some distant place in the night, where you shouldn’t have been at all. 

You were wearing a pretty sparkling dress and you were all dolled up and beautiful and yet that wasn’t enough.

With your hands behind you, supporting your body and legs stretched forward, you sat on the porch of the Haitani’s house. The sun had already dipped behind the grey buildings and Roppongi, the heart of nightlife in Tokyo, was just summoned back into existence. Sometimes it felt like during the day this bright area was almost dead, barely breathing, due to the sheer constant of blinding lights it birthed at night. 

The all too thoughtfully magazine under your butt did little to protect you from the coldness of the ground. You shivered uncomfortably and gazed at the boy standing in front of you. Ran was always a dream. So handsome. So mature. So perfect with all the hard edges of his character and soft plump of his lips. 

So so so so so. 

It was embarrassing how in love with him you were and it was more embarrassing, almost devastatingly so, that you fell for him the first day you met him. You still remember how the three of you - Ran, Rindou and you - stood near the vending machine under the metal roof of the small bookshop. It was heavily raining then and you were waiting for the droplets to stop. For the storm to cease and for you to go home. You remember Ran’s beautiful face and you remember how he lit up a cigarette and you remember how his body shivered because he was cold and how he smiled when he caught you staring at him. How he said nothing and how that pretty smile of his never left his face until you closed the door of your home and bid them goodbye. 

That day you were supposed to go to a party. Ran was supposed to drive you in his new shiny car and you were supposed to have a good time. Your best friend was already on the train to Roppongi, just one station away and Rindou was still inside the house, torn between white blouse and a grey t-shirt. He didn’t want to appear too casual and yet dressing up never sat right with him. 

Maybe if one of them were with you nothing would’ve happened and maybe you would’ve stayed. 

But none of them were. Only Ran and his stupid smile that fell off his soft lips the moment you confessed. The frown settled on his face then, and he was silent for a very long time, until he spoke and it became dark. 

“You know, I don’t do sloppy seconds. You kinda are my brother’s. It's like… I am sorry. It just won’t work out.”  

Once warm air quickly turned dry and you were suffocating. Heart beating too fast and not enough to spread blood across your cold frigid body, you stood up from the porch and without a mere word strode down the road. Ran didn’t say a word. He didn’t go after you. He didn’t call. And if you were to turn back, you would’ve known that he didn’t even look after you as you were slowly disappearing between the building and despair. 

The rest of the evening passed in blur. There’s no recollection in your mind of how you ended up in that particular bar and how you spent the little yen you had on you. Till this day, you believe it is your brain that is protecting you from sleazy hands of men across your body, shielding you from the force of pain that overtook you once they had your way with you. You don’t remember much because you were drunk and high, but you remember when Rindou ran into the toilet of that bar and looked away from your abused body splattered on the floor. And you can still hear the sob your friend let out when she saw you. And if you try hard enough you can still feel the love of Rindou’s blouse when your best friend dresses you up in it. Her warm hands on your marked dirty skin.  

And of course, you remember the day after, when you woke up in her bed and you both sobbed together, until numbness overtook you and you surrendered to it like a warm hug from the life of your life. 

Since that very day, two summers ago, when your little heart was broken and your youth bid you a gruesome farewell, Ran Haitani hadn’t spoken to you at all. It’s like instead of you there was a blank waste of a space and somehow you could understand him. You could justify his silence. 

_ 

The headache after a hangover is never kind. Mixed with a loud banging on the door and muffled - thanks God - shouts of the Rindou it is truly the worst. 

The inner sides of his fists are red, but irritated skin shows barely an ounce of the frustration and anger that bubble in Rindou’s throat. His always so pretty face, now scarred by fury, is what gives him away and by the force with which he kicks off his boots, you can tell he wasn’t trying to ease himself or hide how he is feeling. “What the actual fuck,” he shouts and neither Haruchiyo who stands near the still open door, nor you still in bed under thick blanket can’t tell if this is a question or a statement. 

His body rigid and eyes burning an unfriendly fire Rindou throws his bag on the ground near the wooden dinner table that Takeomi brought in Haruchiyo’s apartment - or rather picked it up from the garbage -  and strides through the only room to you. “Get up and strip,” he commands and his voice so unnerving, so angry and forceful leaves no space for you to retreat to. You hate when he is doing this, but you understand why and his quivering lips and red dust across his cheeks are enough for you to forgive him. It’s hard for him too. 

Loving you and caring for you is hard. But it’s not a new found truth so it’s easy to fathom it in your bones.

You shed clothes that aren’t even yours, easily. One by one they pile up near your legs, a protective shell broken and discharged, until you stand there in your panties and palms for a bra. Haruchiyo curses and averts his gaze. He despises these little checks-up Rindou does and he resents that you are letting him do them every single time. Not once you said “no”.

Smooth hands glide across your skin. Between legs, under your arms, right down the spine. Optical examination ceased to be effective long ago when you put makeup on the newish wound you inflicted upon yourself. Now, Rindou had to be sure. Now, he needed your safety ensured by his own two hands. You wonder if he does all these, because he feels guilty. Because he thinks what happened to you is partially his fault. You had this conversation with him already and it ended in you sobbing and him so angry you were almost afraid of him, but not nearly. Rindou, too, is sweet and kind. Maybe a little bit more so than Haruchiyo. 

That’s why you aren’t asking anything anymore. Instead of a question you puff out a little air from between your lips. Rindou’s head shots up and he looks at you, his eyes hidden behind the thin metal rim of his glasses. You suppress a laugh. Something in between his white and blue locks charges you with merriness. 

He watches you as you press your lips together and adjust his glasses higher up his nose. He is not amused, you can tell that much, but he isn’t angry anymore and that is a relief. And he let you touch his glasses, something he never allows anyone to do [except you, but not when he is in a bad bad bad mood]. So, you decide, the storm is over. The waves are calm. 

“Not even gonna ask what you are laughing about,” he mumbles, inspecting your ankles and when he finds nothing, he stands up from the floor, not before picking up the clothes on the floor. 

“Your eyes,” you make a vague gesture with your fingers in front of your own face, “They were just hidden and you looked so… I don’t know… Never mind, Rin.” In front of you in the kitchen fighting with a kettle Haruchiyo snorts. There’s a herbish aroma and something almost too sweet circulating in the air and it’s so strong it startles you. Too absorbed in Rindou you didn’t notice the smell before. Another Haruchiyo’s tea concoction. Hopefully, this time successful. 

“Did you two get high yesterday?” Rindou asks, going inside the kitchen - it’s hard to tell where the bedroom ends and kitchen starts since Haruchiyo’s apartment is a studio - and peeking over Haruchiyo’s shoulder. “You laugh even more in the post-haze than you do while you are at it.” The silence that settles is murmuring all the nasty things that happened yesterday right in Rindou’s ears. He looks between the two of you exchanging glances and sighs. 

“Whatever. Honestly, I am not even interested. I am here this early only because your mom called.” At this, you stop, your sweatpants half way your legs. You would’ve called Rindou out for lying, because he is here not only because of your mother’s call, but because he simply can not stop caring for you. But then, when your parent calls Rindou it’s never a good thing. It’s always about your scars, your secrets and your lies. 

This time, however, you know why she called him and you sit down on the bed, feeling like the smallest tiniest human being in the whole world. You hate this feeling of a deep humiliation. You want to burn yourself to not remember the ache in your tightened jaw and the disgusting sweat on your clammy palms. 

“If this is about the blades under my bed I didn’t buy them to… har… cut myself. I bought them for postcards.” 

He doesn’t buy it. He bites his lip and shakes his head, waiting for you to continue. “I am telling the truth, Rindou. I bought them to cut out postcards. I… I…” Hot tears pool in your eyes and you hate that he doesn’t believe you and you so badly want to pity yourself, but you can’t. Can’t do this. Because it’s your own fault no one trusts your words and promises anymore. When they look at you and pity you it’s done by your own hands. Hands you too want to burn. 

“Oh, baby, stop,” Haruchiyo helps you pull your sweatpants up and then he ties the drawstrings for you, his body - a shield between you and Rindou, “you didn’t cut yourself with those blades, did you?” “No, I swear, I didn’t,” you repeat it a few times and the only thing that makes you stop mumbling is the pain that seeps through Haruchiyo’s eyes into your heart. 

“Well, good to hear, but you will have to buy a pair of scissors for your postcards, because I threw away those blades you hid under your bed.”  

A clammy hands of desperation tighten around your neck and you want to scream. From frustration and from anger, from despair. Was it like this back too? Your every word carefully weighed and put on the pedestal to judge? You don’t think so. For better or for worse you can’t remember how it was before, but you wonder when everyone will just give up on you. 

With a loud screech against the chair against the floor, Rindou stands up. He takes a few steps and gently shoves Haruchiyo away from you. His long white hair swaying in the air. Haruchiyo smiles at you, reassuringly, kindly and the pools of grim pain evaporate from his beautiful eyes. Love heals, you think. So then, why do you remain sick? “You know how much I care about you, do you?” Rindou asks, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I’ll do anything for you to be healthy, happy and well. If it means I have to be harsh with you then I will. And if it means you will hate me somewhere on the way, so be it. But I won’t let you down again. Get this in your head. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Down. Ever. Again.” Haruchiyo turns away and gets to his kettle and tea. And you finally silently cry cradled into Rindou’s warmth. Humiliation washes away with salty tears and the ever so heavy guilt crashes upon your shoulders. It’s better than anything, you think. Because that means you still care too and that means you are alive and well and there’s hope that one day all the check-ups and blades and tears will be in the past. 

You believe in this. 

Haruchiyo’s tea turns out not so bad and you and Rindou have two cups, one and half each. 

_ 

That day you come home late in the evening. 

You still wear Haruchiyo’s clothes and have Kakucho’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. The sneakers you place on the shoe rack - dusty black Adidas - are yours. This random sudden thought makes you happy and for the first time in a while you bubble with excitement. Over shoes. It can’t be normal. It’s not normal. Probably just a lingering side-effect of weed or bottled up emotions in which Rindou effectively made a hole once again. Inside the living room, under tonkatsu, sits your family. They are watching TV over dinner. You see an empty plate and an empty space reserved just for you and your giddy happiness holts. You had dinner with Rindou and Haru already and you aren’t hungry. Guiltiness spreads across your lungs like a web of poisonous spiders. 

Your mother is the one who sees you first. She is wary and tired when she looks at you, but this is nothing new. Your father turns back to look at you too, he nods and returns to the TV as soon as he can. He says, you should join them and eat something, you must be starving. You nod and wave at your little sister. She waves back. 

You go inside your room.

No one said anything about new shining scissors you had in your hand that Rindou bought for you. 

No one came to check on you and you didn’t have dinner together. 

_ You skip school for the next few days. 

There’s no particular reason. You just don’t feel like going. 

In front of you, there’s a void and it’s luring you in. Black colour, so inviting and beautiful. Inside of a space avoidant of anything and everything, where no air is floating, you are blossoming. The slightest aroma of laundry detergent and fresh baked cookies are so hard to resist and this is exactly what this imaginary [not so] place of yours smells like. You wish you could stay there forever. 

You almost do. 

But then your phone rings and the number is unknown. Yet, you have the slightest hunch of who it could be. That’s why you pick it up. 

“Hey! You have no idea how hard it was to get your number. You do have some seriously overprotective friends,” Kakucho laughs echoes through that night where you met a black cat to now  and then right into your ear. 

You hum, holding your phone in the safest place between your ear and shoulder, “I guess you could say that. Why are you calling? Oh! I am sorry I totally forgot to give you your jacket back. Do you wanna meet up somewhere? I am free now.” 

He laughs again and you notice that his laugh is boisterous and contagious. It’s almost childish in its raw sincerity. You haven’t heard people being that happy in a long long time. In a reminiscence the corner of your lips stretch up on their own. “What about… Can you be at Shibuya station in twenty minutes?” “I can try.” “Cool. I'll see you there then!” 

He hangs up just as abruptly as he called and the taste in your mouth is not of sweet abyss cookies, but of metal and caramel. It’s exciting in the most lazy manner. 

Outside, running down the street, to catch the bus on time, you notice the vast blue sky that is so clear it looks like it’s made of glass. You stop on the crossroad, hands on your hips, and take a few shallow breaths. Running was never and will never be your forte, but you stare at the infinite beauty that covers the whole earth and all people living on it, and wonder why haven’t you got out of the house earlier. 

_ Kakucho takes you to a nice barbeque place. 

It’s a chain restaurant, so the food is quite cheap and nice. You order two bowls of rice, beef, soup and kimchi. Kakucho gets himself Sapporo beer and you ask for iced lemon tea which he claims doesn’t go well with meat, but still smiles when you sip it. 

He is sitting opposite you in a small booth made for two people only. He is wearing a black turtleneck and plain jeans that can’t be that expensive, but they do look like he paid more than twenty thousand yen to get them. On the back of his chair hangs yet another leather jacket. The one he gave you sits in the Mitsukoshi bag under the table near your leg. 

In everything he does, Kakucho is effortless and confident. He grills the meat for you and he carries the conversation for you too. He asks you about school, about your hobbies, your likes and dislikes and even learns what your favourite colour is. 

Half through this spontaneous dinner you understand that this was never about returning his jacket. At least for him. But then, it’s his dark black hair that he spontaneously decided to grow out almost two years ago after he got tired of seeing that ugly bald dude with a scar in reflection every morning. [This you too learn over the food and while you want to tell him that by no means he can be considered ugly, you suppress yourself and listen to his soothing voice carrying you to yet another story already.] They are so black, they almost have this blue-ish inky feeling to them. And somehow looking at him so smiley, so kind and so handsome, so welcoming and accepting, so invested in every few words you say, he reminds you of those beautiful warm summer nights. Not the one that happened two summers ago, but all the ones before that. It’s a burning sensation and it calms you. 

You think, if he wants you might give him a chance. 

It’s dark when you go outside and back to the metro station. 

“Next time I’ll see you I’ll bring my car. I feel really bad, but my car is in the service. The engine has been acting up.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kakucho,” you say counting the colourful kaleidoscope of the stained glass window of the random shop, you pass by. You connect every piece to seconds that fly away and they make beautiful constellations. “Just think it’s a good thing you are taking me home then and we are going by foot and not driving there. I am bad with directions. But now you are going to remember where I live and next time you can pick me up right from home. You know, just to pay for all the walking we did today.” He bites his smile back, lips pressed tightly together, but it fights him and reaches his eyes. They shine. _ “Since when are you and Kakucho going out?” 

You sit on the floor of Haruchiyo’s apartments with a scissor in your hands. Bright patterned paper, stickers, glue and so many other things you sure are two boys in the room with you don’t even know the name of, lay in a circle surrounding you. It’s messy, but Haruchiyo who lays on the bed, behind you and watches every single creative step you take, doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact he never does. 

“We are not going out,�� you mumble, eyes focused on cutting the most precisely shaped heart without an outline. “We’ve been hanging out. That’s all.” Rindou doesn’t seem to be convinced. He glances over to Haruchiyo laying on his stomach, blond hair a curtain, and sighs. 

“You do know, he has a thing for you?” “Well, I mean I kinda do, but I am sure it’s not anything serious. Who would’ve been in lo…” “He punched Ran at that party and they haven't talked since then.” 

The scissors stop and the bright yellow heart falls to the ground. It’s nicely and evenly cut out, but something about it isn’t right and you can’t tell what it is and you are spiralling and nothing can stop you now, because fire is nowhere in reach. You scratch your left thigh. 

“I didn’t wanna tell you, but…” “I am glad Kaku did it. I am sorry Rin, but it was actually very nasty there and if not for her,  I would’ve killed his bitch first and then kill him,” you hear the springs in the old mattress squeak and then Haruchiyo plops right next to you, making a space for himself between glue bottles, colourful tapes and you. “Ran never told her anything, because he didn’t even know, and I never told Ran or anybody about it. It wasn’t my brother’s fault she ran her mouth. For all I know Ran and her were never even together.” “Oh, really? Then how the fuck does she know?” The anger rising up in Rindou scorches you and you wince, but boys being boys, playing their own little war don’t notice it. “How would I know that? I just know that even if Ran knew he would never speak about it with anybody else!” “For fuck’s sake, Rindou, I know he is your older brother and you always admired him and…” 

The words bleed. The wounds they leave suffocate. You plaster a yellow heart over a red cardboard. You draw millions of hearts around it. You wish they’d stop now, but you know them both well enough, to know they won’t. You know how much Rindou loves Ran and how much Haruchiyo thinks everything that happened to you is because of Ran. But it’s not. What happened to you has never been Ran’s fault and you won’t let anyone think that. Not even your sweet pretty Haruchiyo. “I believe it,” you say loudly enough to stop them. “In fact, I know it wasn’t Ran who told her. Ran is not like that and… I… I just know he didn’t know about it. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Ran and it’s not his fault. Neither it’s his responsibility or yours.” Splashes of alcohol across his cheek and wet t-shirt. The look on his face. Of pure horror and so many regrets. It wasn’t Ran. It could never be him. 

Rindou and Haruchiyo mend over the sweet sour chicken you make for them. They laugh, and joke and make those stupid boyish remarks only male in their twenties can. But you forgive them for that and for everything else too, like they do the same for you. 

It’s when Rindou examines your newest red card with yellow heart and I LOVE YOU RINDOU written across it, he brings the subject of Kakucho back. “Just so you know, I won’t hesitate to add another scar to his face.” Haruchiyo snorts, “Aren’t you two like best gym buddies?” “Yes we are. But he doesn’t make me postcards. And want it or not, but my loyalty lies with my brother so we aren’t speaking either.” 

Haruchiyo never comments anything on it and neither do you, but for the rest of the evening and well into the night when you lay down in Haruchiyo bed and try your best to sleep, you can’t help it, but think where does your loyalty lay? To what latitude does it extend and what seconds are most important to you to get back to them over and over again. _ 

It’s summer and you are in Kyoto. You are in your last school year and life has never ever been more beautiful. The green around you has the most vibrant colour and the sun above you is the warmest it has ever been. You close your eyes, spread your arms and melt. If you had to choose a moment to live in forever it would be this. 

There’s a festival going on in town. You hear music and people laughing. You smell chicken and something very very sweet. But despite this cacophony of smells and sounds, you also hear birds chirping and because of that your heart beats twice as fast. It’s a pretty feeling and you hope your heart will stay this way forever. 

Ran finds you kneeling in front of the small flower cart in front of the flower shop. You are so engrossed in the scenery of random shapes and ethereal feelings to them, you don’t notice him at all. Or so he thinks, because it’s very very difficult for you not to sense Ran’s presence.

It’s even harder not to feel his lazy stare on you and it’s impossible to not be burned by his crooked hazy smile as he watches you pecking tender petals with your fingertips.  

“Where’s Rin?” You ask, eyes focused on the bright pink flower. Ran takes a step, then another one and then he squats by your side, shoulders touching, the flower unnoticed. “With Kakucho, your two friends and Haruchiyo at a sportswear store.” “What?” Head snapping to the side, you study his face, to see if he is teasing you and while his lips are stretched in a smile, you don’t think he is. 

“I know. I am surprised Haruchiyo tagged along with them,” he stops talking, his lips form a straight concerned line and the crease between his blonde eyebrows makes you want to press a fingertip in there to soothe it. 

But instead of you reaching out to him, it’s him raising his hand to your shoulder. You hear a little buzzling near your ear, see the blue vast sky and people swarming behind Ran and you feel so warm, so safe, so i-wanna-freeze-this-moment. And you don’t know why your heart clenches the way it does and why your hands get clammy. 

“It’s a little bee,” Ran says, eyes fascinated by the small creature sitting on his finger. “Probably mistook you for a flower.” He laughs and shakes the bee away. It falls in the air, but as if remembering it can actually fly, spreads its little tiny wings and goes off. To the crowd. To the festival. To so many shared happy moments. 

“Do you want to go eat something? I am starving and on my way here I saw a decent looking place that serves yukke.” “Can we get Yatsuhashi after?” you stand up first, your head a bit dizzy from squatting for so long. Ran grins and nods, “Anything you want.” It’s on the way to the more than decent looking, but high-class restaurant that Ran takes you to, in the middle of your conversation that you remember about the flowers you were so fascinated with. There was no tag on them and you weren't sure they were even for sale, and yet you wished you went inside the shop and asked. Everything needs a name to stay. Today, Ran is eager to provide you with one. “It’s camellia. The flower you were looking at. Did you like it?” 

The sun is still high up in the sky and people are still walking. The Gion Matsuri festival will last for another three days. “Since when can you tell flowers?” 

You are genuinely interested and maybe that’s why Ran responds. You are sure he wouldn’t otherwise. 

“Mom used to have a book on flowers. Encyclopaedia. Was obsessed with them and how do you think she came up with the name for me and Rin? Obviously took them from there. It was the only thing that remained after she left. Along with our names.” 

“Well, you and Rindou remained too and then that old apartment of yours.” The smile blooms on his face again. He points at the restaurant with his finger and leads you there, “That apartment was actually of our beloved father. I wanted to set it on fire, but Rin talked me out of it.” 

Somehow you know once again he is telling you the truth. The fire, him and Rindou, and the book that for one reason or so many more others he kept and read so many times, he could tell camellia apart from other flowers. 

“Anyway, do you think bees migrate?” Inside the restaurant almost all tables are busy, but Ran finds you a perfect place near the outdoor garden for two people. You get a haunting feeling like it was waiting for you. “You mean migrate like birds do?” “Yeah,” he says casually overlooking the menu, “Oh, they have your favourite iced lemon tea. I always thought it’s amusing how you never drink anything hot.”  

“I don’t like hot things. They burn. I hate it when it burns,” you do and you don’t think you’ll ever change. “And to answer your question, I don’t think bees migrate. I’ve never seen them flying around freely like birds.” “I’ve never seen a single bee in Roppongi. Today's gotta be my first time.” You end up ordering a lot more than you both can eat. It’s always like this with Ran and you think you know why. You think you understand him, and his questions and a lot more things he tries to keep confined in that heart of his. 

Like an encyclopaedia of flowers and bees that flew away.  

_ You and Kakucho will never end up together. Not in this universe, not in any other. He is the first one to break it to you, but you were the first to realise. 

The truth is swallowed under bright cold stars. There’s not much light on the pier where you are lying down on the cold grey cement, but the roar of crashing waves and flickering lights of bulk carriers’ lamps are enough to guide you home. If needed. 

“I feel like I could love you, but you won’t let me,” he says and these words are mere whispers that take the form of a knife. Dull or sharp doesn’t matter. It still cuts your skin in two and you bleed. This is nothing new. 

“Maybe you are right,” is all you say. Your hands on your belly, you imagine sharks, three of them, emerging from the water and ripping you apart. They have five rows of deadly sinful teeth that will shred your flesh in seconds before you become part of them and the sea. You won’t die and you’d feel pain until sun blasts and the Earth will pause to exist and you with it. But no sharks come out and you are breathing. 

“I still want to be your best friend, though,” Kakucho turns to his side, prompts his head on his palm and peers in your face. “If you want to, of course.” 

Under his gaze, you think he’s searching for something. You want to tell him not to, because he won’t find it there. There’s no fight left in you. It’s all in vain, all in vain! “Nah. Those roles are taken,” you are only half-joking, but he doesn’t have to know that. “You can try though.” “Oh, I will. I will try my very best. I still like you. It’s not like it will go away any time soon.” If sharks do come, you pray, please don’t kill Kakucho too. He deserves to live a long nice life with a person who will love his gentle soul. But again, no sharks come, and you and him are alive and well. And an hour later he drops you off at home and you wish you won’t see him again and regret your inability to make people feel love. _ Haruchiyo’s hair is the prettiest you’ve ever seen. You’ve known him since you were eleven and every single hairstyle he had he owned. He was a young cheerful boy then, and a quite pretty young man now. Sometimes, you wished you could be together. You think both of you could make it work and maybe both of you would, if there wasn’t Rindou in between of you. But, today, there’s no Rindou and Haruchiyo’s head is in your laps and his clear bright eyes, almost transparent in their intensity, look at you and you only.  

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, hand finding yours, fingers sewn together. “Nothing much,” you lie and he accepts it, because he knows what goes in your head.

He sighs then, a tired loud sigh ripped right from his chest, just where his heart is. He tears himself off you, and sits opposite you, stretching his legs on each side of you. 

“If you want, we can, but I do agree with Kaku, you will never love anyone, even me, like you love that beanpole. And hurting me will break your heart more than… Ah, you understand what I mean, right? And sex won’t solve anything either. It’s gonna make everything worse. And I am willing to give up anything I might feel for us, but not you and what we already have. I love you and I love your happiness and it’s not with me. Not in that way.” “Wow,” you giggle, face hot with tears. Haruchiyo smiles. His kind, beautiful smile makes him even more ethereal than he already is. With this angel white hair. 

He leans in and kisses you on your lips. Hands on your wet cheeks, he doesn’t wipe them away, but hold them there and you feel them. They are cold and sorrowful. They are happy. 

“Let’s go eat something. I’m paying. And if you want we can rent a movie to watch before we come back.” I do, you say and he nods. He kisses your forehead and helps you stand up. Haruchiyo is your best friend and you don’t really suppose you are destined to become something else. And it’s good. It does feel right. 

_ The school is somehow not how you remember it. It’s even more dull, grey and ugly. You so badly want to drop out and never come back, but you can’t disappoint your family and friends more than you already have. You suck all your regrets and unpleasantries in, and continue to carry on. 

Today, you are all alone. Haruchiyo isn’t in Tokyo and neither is Rindou. They went to that stupid DJ convention in Osaka and you, sitting in the cafeteria with your store bento box in front of you, wish you were with them. They are for sure having a lot of fun. 

Unlike you. 

It’s not a recent thing, but you are craving company, because thoughts inside your head are suffocating you. You see fires, fireworks and sharks with fairy lights. You feel waves and your little sister stares at you. Your skin pops off, wrinkling and coming off in ugly distorted layers. 

You need this to stop, until you do the unforgivable and this is betraying Rindou to whom you promised not to do anything with yourself. You promised to go to school and study and be a good girl. Just for this week. Until he comes back and it gets easier to breathe. 

Maybe, you should call Kakucho and go out with him. He won’t say no. You know that well and that’s why you don’t call him. He is too good for you and your haunting voices in your mind. 

Everything seals in, when your friend finds you in the cafeteria and invites you to the party. It’s a small intimate gathering she promises and it’s gonna be so fun! We can dress up and have a little fun. We haven’t hung out in so long. Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! We are going to have the best night ever. 

You don’t think twice, you need to relax and shut your shaking fears in your head, lock them away and preferably kill. So, you say “yes” and it makes your friend so happy, she spills her orange juice on your bleached jeans that your mother washed yesterday. _

The party is awful and your heart screams at you to get out before it’s too late. 

But your friend holds your hand and you feel safer and she claims she knows a lot of people there and they are nice and then, she would never let anything happen to you. The last part is true, but there’s only so much a young girl in her twenties can do. People she knows are a group of men. They look like rock stars, smudged eyeliner and long hair, multiple piercings in both ears. There’s no way to tell their age, but you don’t think they are that much older. A strong smell of weed and alcohol doesn’t scare you either. It feels familiar. 

With a few drags from a blunt you levitate, head in clouds, river of shitty bitter drink in your stomach, you levitate. You laugh and giggle and let the boy with orange bleached hair throw an arm around your bare shoulders. His touch isn’t anything, it’s barely there. 

Until it’s not. 

Until, his hand slides to your breast and he squeezes it. Once, twice, you lose the count. You feel sick, smoke disintegrated from your head, alcohol still in your blood. All the scars you carry on your body itch. You breathe in and breathe out, and the boy mistakes it for excitement. He grins, eyes foggy and greedy. 

The bile rises up in your throat. You shove it down, to your stomach. The friend that promised to be there for you isn’t here anymore and you can’t pinpoint the moment she left. Hazy thoughts and remnants of what she said to you before going upstairs with one of the boys are still there, but they are melted in the hold and attention forced on you. 

When the boy turns you around and kisses your neck, you’ve had enough. With a smile on your lips, and wobbly legs, you push him away, hands on his chest and he groans unsatisfied and hungry. He dives right back, fingers latching onto your waist. “I really need to use the restroom,” you whisper again and again and again. “I really need to. Please. I’ll be back. Just let me go.” He doesn’t and his friends laugh behind you. Is there no one to help you? No one to not let that awful night happen again? “Please, I just want to go to the restroom,” you plead and this time he releases you. You flee away. With trembling hands and shaking heart, you flee away and run to the bathroom. It’s vacant and it’s dirty, but it will do. It will do until you think of how to escape that party and get home. To your mom, to your dad and to you sweet little sister. To everything good and innocent that still lives in you. But now, you cry. You sit on the dirty floor in the house of a person you don’t know with a dress ridden to your mid thighs and cry. You cry for betraying Rindou’s trust, because once you are out of here, you’ll cut and then you’ll burn yourself and this time you hope it hurts so much, you won’t be able to feel anything for weeks. You hope it scars your body so ugly everyone will finally turn away from you. But firstly, you need to get out of here and this is almost impossible, because that guy wants you and waits for you and you promised to be back. Swallowing, you reach out for your phone. It’s in your bag. It’s fully charged and when you are about to dial Kakucho’s number, because he’s the only person to come and get you now, it rings. You answer before you see the name of the caller. “Hey! Why weren’t you answering my calls? Where the fuck are you?”

It’s Rindou and you know everything ends here. “I am fine. I am just at the party with…” “Are you crying? What the fuck? Where are you?” You sob. Because he is harsh with you and because he has every right to be. 

“Rin, I am sorry, I… that guy… I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll call Kakucho and he…” “Who? Did someone hurt you? You need to tell me where the fuck you are.” “He just… Rin, I can’t… Why are you in… I am sorry… I want to go home.” He is panicking. On the line, in another city, his heart breaks in two for you. “I need you to tell me where you are. Tell me where the fuck you are.” You tell him. The address, the way to the bathroom and even what you are wearing. You have no idea why you are doing this, because Rindou is no god and he can’t get to Tokyo, to you, swiftly. Today, he won’t save you. But he promises you he will and then he hangs up, only to call you a couple of minutes later and talk to you about anything and everything, before you are safe. Before you are you again. _ The lightning that shoots through your body is so strong and powerful, you straighten up against the door and stop breathing. Outside is eerily quiet. The music is no longer playing and people aren’t speaking. It’s like the world died and you are the only one left. “What is it?” Rindou asks after he catches you not listening to him telling you about the new DJ set up he and Haruchiyo saw today at the exhibition. It’s pointless asking him, because you do know the answer to your question, but you do ask anyway. “Who did you call, Rindou?” “Ran. I called Ran. Is he there?” 

His voice is soft and comforting, but it does little to calm your wires of nerves.  Suddenly the world is very crispy and clear. “Rin, I don’t think I am ready to talk to him and…” “Listen here,” he interrupts you, taking a long pause, “It’s just Ran. My older brother. The guy you knew since what? Five years old? I don’t know a better person I can trust you with than him.” “It’s not that… it’s just… I am not ready… I don’t think…” A knock on the door never lets you finish the sentence. Rindou is babbling up on the phone again, you can hear him, but you can’t comprehend what he is saying. Slowly you open the door. You feel safe. You start breathing again. _ Ran doesn’t take you to your house. He doesn’t speak to you when he escorts you out of the house, your hand in his, and he doesn’t speak to you once he stops near KFC, gets out and gets back with two large bags he throws in the backseat, neither does he say anything when he makes the last stop at convenience store two blocks away from his and Rindou’s apartment. 

Two stops and thirty minutes ride, you don’t hear his voice even once. I am with her, is what he said to Rindou when he found you and took your phone from your hands; it still sits in the right pocket of his sweats. 

And you, you don’t try to talk either. Instead, you watch him. You caress his face with your eyes and try to spot if everything is different since you last saw him this close. Two summers ago. 

You don’t find anything new and it’s disappointing and relieving at the same time. Inside the apartment everything is still. He flickers on the light in the living room, places bags with food and drinks on the table and turns to you, standing where he left you. In the corridor. “Go and take a bath. Puke if you want and then come here. We’ll eat and we’ll talk.” When you don’t move he adds. “Go and wash yourself, I’ll bring you fresh clothes in a minute. Go.” The shower does help you. Water and soap feel nice on your skin and it’s not the cleansing you wish it was, but it still makes you feel better. Less anxious and more grounded. It also washes your worries away and you can’t help, but blame it on the weed wearing off your body. You are happy you are sober now and you wish it was something else that sobered you and not a random guy groping you at the party you shouldn’t have been at, at all. You don’t puke and you rinse your mouth with green mouth wash that you find on the sink. Haruchiyo has the same one at his apartment. You think if he is already aware of what happened. You should call him tomorrow and say you are okay, you are fine. Nothing bad happened. You suppose Rindou has told him, but you want to reassure him yourself. Ran sits on the floor when you emerge from the bathroom, wearing black sweats and grey t-shirt. You know it’s his clothes and you know when he raises his head and sees you wearing them, the corner of his lips tug up. He is quick to lower his head again, eyes on the chicken and fries neatly divided between two plates, as he motions you to come join him. 

This time you do it without hesitation. You eat in silence. Words on the tip of your tongue you so desperately want to say something, but it’s not your turn to talk and so you wait, until he gathers up and says what he has to say to you. “You are staying here. I already called your mom and told her you are with me so you don’t have to worry about it. I also spoke with Rindou and he’ll stay at the convention until the end. He won’t return tomorrow as he initially wanted.” You don’t say anything back. The fast food Ran bought is delicious and this apartment with him in it is a pleasant nice memory you dissolve in. You sip on your beloved iced lemon tea and you hope this moment of the night will never end or it will snatch you away. Imprison you in its comfort. “How do you feel?” His purple eyes never leave your presence and while the question is expected, you never wanted him to ask you that, because for once you don’t want to lie anymore. You are sick and tired of lying. “I am fine now, but I don’t think I’ll be tomorrow morning when I leave and I’ll probably get worse when I am home and alone.” He hums to that, shaking his head. His hair is parted in two nicely done braids. It’s longer than you remember it and yet it’s the same. “You won’t go home tomorrow morning. You are staying here until the answer to that question is I am good. Until I see you are better I am not letting you go.”

“Ran, I don’t think it works like that.” “Then, we’ll make it work like that.” 

That puts an end to your conversation. Together you wash dishes and he returns to his room, while you slip in Rindou’s bed and close your eyes. Violence is never an answer to you, and maybe Ran didn’t mean to enforce anything on you, and that’s why he didn’t close the door to his room as he always did before [you remember it so, but he might have changed, it’s been years after all], but you want to try. You so desperately want to feel good, you are willing to do anything. _ The next morning comes and you are the first to wake up. Ran’s room is dark and silent. The door is still open. There’s no sound coming out. Everything is still and motionless, but alive. That’s how you know he is actually home, inside his room sleeping peacefully. 

You don’t move around much. You don’t want to wake him up, because you do remember how grumpy he gets when someone disturbs his sleep. So, instead, you return back to Rindou’s bedroom and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your phone is still in Ran’s possession and you are quite bored. Not that you can do much with it, but you could have messaged Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s better than doing anything and in Rindou’s bedroom there’s nothing much to shorten the time you have until Ran wakes up. 

It’s around noon when your back gets so stiff and you just simply can’t fall asleep again no matter how hard you try, so you get off the bed and stride into the kitchen. The cupboards don’t have much and it’s even worse than at Haruchiyo’s house. That boy at least has a collection of tea, instant coffees, chicken take-outs leftovers and rice. All Haitanis have are a pack of rice, one cup of instant noodles, a carrot, two cans of spam and five eggs. It’s all definitely courtesy of Rindou. Ran solely survives on deliveries and eating in those favourite posh restaurants of his. 

It’s another hour and a smell of grilled spam that lures him out of the bed. He crosses the corner that separates his bedroom and kitchen, and with a heavy blanket across his shoulder and droopy eyes that are ready to close any second, stares at you. “What are you cooking?” 

“Rice with spam and eggs.” “I didn’t know we had eggs. Good. I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears into his room and then reappears a second after and goes straight into the bathroom and you standing in their little kitchen for the first time since yesterday shrink in size, feeling very very small. It’s all too strange, you comprehend, mind spiralling and angry and so frustrated. So so so strange for you to be here, in Ran’s and Rindou’s kitchen, cooking a miserable attempt at breakfast at noon, for yourself and a guy with whom you once were so close, but then you haven’t spoken in almost two years and now… 

You freeze, hands raised mid-air, and mouth slightly parted. Breathing in and out. In and out. In and out. 

Now… Now, there’s rice on the stove and you need to reach for bowls, which should be in the cupboard right in front of you. That’s if they didn’t wake up one day and decided to store their dishes in the drawer next to the fridge.

Now, you need to turn the stove off, so the spam will stay crispy, and not turn into an ugly tasteless black  coal. You need to do all this and that’s what you do. Ran is back to you in almost no time. He watches you carefully, and you wonder if he sees your worries in your trembling hands and bitten lips, in how you avoid his intense gaze. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Wordlessly, he helps you by taking both of the bowls, leaving you to grab chopsticks and soya sauce. 

He settles on the floor and you sit next to him, putting a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

It’s very Ran to not turn on the TV. He eats quietly, throwing a small praise your way, that means nothing, because it’s just an appreciative humming and a couple of pleased curses. You eat too, because there’s nothing else to do and you are kinda hungry. It’s also is a distraction enough not to send you down your torture tunnel again. You welcome it happily, grabbing the opportunity with both hands. You welcome Ran staring at you too. You suppose you are acting as the TV for him today. The thought makes you smile. “Yesterday, when I arrived, no one would tell me who was the guy that made you uncomfortable by touching you,” he starts, confident with purple eyes never leaving you. “They only spoke when I kneeled one of them down and stepped on their fingers.” The rice in front of you, sticky from the yolk, dances. You wish you could dance too, but you haven’t had a good dance since the last party with Haruchiyo and Rindou almost two weeks ago, where Rindou got so drunk, he couldn’t remember what his name was, but he remembered you. That moment was sweet and you think the moment now isn't really so, but your mouth suddenly tastes like cotton candy and it’s a pleasant feeling. A great even. 

“I broke the fingers of the guy who touched you yesterday and I broke every single finger on the hands of the guys who touched you that day. It was a mess, but there won’t be a day now in their lives, that they won’t feel the pain and that’s all I wish for.” “Ran…” The bowl is too heavy for you to hold and the rice isn’t dancing anymore, nor does the world move and you doubt anything exists past this apartment. The white noise and deafening eerie silence envelope you in their deadly hug. But you don’t want them to touch you. You want to swim in Ran’s eyes that carry no remorse or guilt or pity, but acceptance and comfort. Tenderness seeps through him like the sand of the broken hourglass. If he suffocates you with it, burying you under him, you won’t mind it. 

You won’t mind it at all.  “You don’t have to say anything,” he laughs, clearly amused by your lack of reaction or from the plentiness of it. “Good.” “Yeah, good. Finish your food and let’s go grocery shopping. We don’t have anything to eat in this house and Rindou’s stack of shochu isn’t much to my taste.” “He still has a stack of shochu?” “That’s the only thing you are worrying about?” “No, but…” “I am teasing you. Yes, he has. It’s in the cupboard next to the fridge.” Well, it seems like nothing much changed in their apartment after all. Bowls in the cupboards and stacks of shochu, and everything else in between. 

Two years after last visiting, you feel like it was just yesterday. A nice revived warm memory. You hope it will linger for a little more, its light pleasantly warming your cold hands. _ Your phone is somewhere inside Ran’s room and he isn’t willing to give it to you. It’s also a no trespasse territory so you don’t dare to go in there and take it yourself. “Did Rindou call?” You ask on your second day spent with Ran. It’s raining outside. Quite heavily so, but inside this little cute cafe that serves only coffees and cheesecakes, it’s warm and safe. “He called me,” Ran says, cutting his lemon cheesecake in half and transferring the piece to your plate. He cuts off part of your strawberry one for himself too. “Asked what we were doing and how are you doing. Don’t worry about him. He is getting drunk, high and probably has a couple of girls in his bed to warm it. I bet he is having a good time.”

“It’s good then. I want him to have a good time.” Ran hums, takes a sip of his black coffee that obviously doesn’t taste good at all and observes you. Eyes squinting and all. It would’ve been uncomfortable before, but it’s not anymore. In these two full days you spent with him in his apartment it’s almost like all those years before. “Your other friend called though and sent lots of messages.” You don’t have to ask to know who this friend is and Ran understands it very well, because he continues without waiting for you to ask who he is talking about. “I answered him and told him you’ll stay with me. Apparently what I did at the party reached him.” 

Never once he looks away from you, waiting for anything from you. A small frown, barely there sigh, tears or glossy eyes. But nothing comes, so he asks. Simply, because he desires to know. “Are you upset? I can give you your phone back if you want to call Kakucho. I know you’ve become close since that party.” There’s nothing you are feeling. No sadness, no remorse, no heart in the stomach. It stays in your chest where it’s supposed to be. So you shrug and put a little bit of yellow cheesecake on your spoon. You taste it, the back of the spoon hanging from your mouth. It tastes good. Really really good. 

“I am not upset and we are just close friends. Nothing more.” “Nothing more?” “Nope.” “That’s good. Anyway, do you want to rent something to watch later today?” It is good and yes you do. Of course you do. 

_

With his hair up in a messy bun, loose strands falling all over his face and glasses always falling off past his nose bridge, Ran looks ridiculous. You tell him just that. 

He also looks very domestic, very warm and safe, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He understands it anyway. 

_ On the fourth day of getting back to Ran he leaves the apartment very early in the morning and doesn’t return until the evening when the clock strikes eight. 

It’s very boring without him there. With nothing to do you read Rindou’s book about healthy food and when you finish it, you read his handouts about the importance of music in western world. Both food and music are dull topics to you, but with nothing to do it’s better than just sitting on the sofa and waiting for Ran to come home.  You also watch TV. MTV with loud pop and all the same techno music and then some soap opera with an all too obvious plot on TBS. You even tune in on the football match on TBS Sports and find it a bit entertaining. 

But then the match ends and Ran isn’t home yet and you have no idea where your phone is so you could’ve called him [you don’t have his number], so you get up and get to cooking. Cooking is nice and it’s creative enough for you to lose yourself in it. You notice a pack of shaving razor’s on the kitchen countertop and wonder how they even got there. 

You take them back to the bathroom. When Ran does come home it’s dark outside and he doesn’t look any different. It’s raining again and his hair and clothes are a bit wet, which makes you think that he didn’t use his car. You so want to ask him where he has been and why has he left you alone, but you don’t dare. 

You stare at him from the safe space of Rindou’s room. Watch him take his coat off, then his boots and then he is right by your side. “I wanna see your scars,” he asks, almost pleading, and this is so unlike him, so not Ran and everything you know about him, you think you heard him wrong, but he repeats, “I want to see you. You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” And you aren’t. You were never afraid of Ran and his vicious, sometimes cruel, nature, because to you he was never like that. You never saw him as a person capable of turning another human being's fingers into a bloody mess that won’t ever heal. To you, Ran is Ran. Beautiful sleepy eyes and gentle touches. A never ending worry for the people he loves and all the knowledge about flowers he once read in the encyclopaedia of his gone from his life forever mother. 

Without saying anything, holding onto each other’s gaze, you strip to your underwear. Your scars ugly tissues of messy skin, are wanting to be hidden. They scream at you and cry and rebel. They promise you, you can hide them under other scars, more brutal, more deadly, more deep, but you don’t believe them anymore. 

Nothing ever will steal them away from you. They are now you and you have to carry them for as long as you live. No sharks or stakes are the option.

Cold fingers burn your warm skin. Ran’s hands glide across every patch of your existence that once were wronged by you. He finds every single one. On your arms, your legs and thighs. Your ribs and lower back. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands tremble and that is enough for you to understand everything. Him and his reasons. 

When he claws your waist with his fingertips and brings you close to him in an impossible tight hug, you start crying. Your own hands fist the plush of his sweater and you want it gone, because you need to feel him close to you. Skin to skin and nothing apart. 

The pressure from his fingers is painful, and if he presses more, he’ll leave blooming bruises, but you won’t mind it. You wouldn’t mind it at all, because just this once it’s so nice to be safe and sound in the arms of someone other than Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s so nice, so so nice, to want something more and not be afraid of it. 

It’s like blooming camellias and stinging honey bees. 

_ Fully dressed with sanrio cookies Ran got at 7-Eleven, you sit near him on the floor, on the Rindou’s blanket you spread across it for warmth and comfort. Your tears have long dried and the Ghibli movie is now playing on the TV. The room is dark, the rain is still falling and Ran is slowly falling asleep. 

“You know, I’ve never rejected you,” he yawns, laying down. “That summer. I didn’t reject you. I thought you and Rin had something going on between you and that’s why I said what I said. Maybe if I were to… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s just watch the movie.” Ran doesn’t make it to the end. He dozes off right at the moment when Chichiro boards the train and suddenly you too lose interest in a magical movie with so much sense behind its gentle animation. For a couple of seconds that stretch into an endless drop of water you bring your knees to your chest and stare outside the window. The view is nothing much. A grey building and dimly lit street lamp. Not a soul passes under the windows and you don’t hear any voices or laughs. No steps or coughs and rustling of clothes. Maybe there’s a black cat there somewhere, but its paws are too soft to make any noise. It most definitely won’t reach the second floor. Especially with rain meeting the pavement and cars and roofs, and maybe cats, but hopefully not. 

That night that summer it was raining too or so you were told, because you don’t remember. Drunk, high and very very sad you were brought into Haruchiyo’s apartment where he cared for you as best as an eighteen year boy could about an eighteen year old wronged girl. And in that crumpled dusty bar in Roppongi another act of love was happening. More vicious and more cold. Rindou has never told you about it, but you know him and Ran well enough to know that they did it together. Haitani brothers and all. 

You are too lazy to go to the kitchen and put sanrio cookies in the cupboard where they belong so you place them on the table near the TV. You grab the remote and switch the movie off. Darkness envelops the apartment, but you are used to it and then there’s that street lamp with its light and Ran. Slowly, you sneak under the blanket and curl next to him.

His breaths are even and methodical. His heart beats the same and he is very very warm. He is asleep and you so desperately want to sneak into his dream and live there. Meet the bees and blooming camellias along with other beautiful flowers he knows by heart. It must smell so good there and it must be day. Full family at the table and everything is good. Cats can be heard from miles away and fire is never burning the skin, only purifying. It never hurts there. 

Just like it never hurts near Ran. 

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ran turns on the side, arm hooking across your waist and brings you closer to him, his body and his peace, “You are waking me up with those thoughts of yours. It’s gonna be alright. We are… I… It’s… I…” Whatever he said is lost on you, because he falls asleep again. This time, in his arms, in his warmth, it’s easier for you to close your eyes, because after many many days you are eager to open them again. _ This time, you don’t wake up first, but you wake under an intense gaze and hand caressing your face. He doesn’t stop when you open your eyes, curiously, looking at him and you don’t stop him when he leans in and kisses you. Slowly and sweetly. Besides drunk games at parties where you pecked a couple of boys, you’ve never ever kissed anyone, because you loved them. And right now doing exactly that - kissing the person you love, - your chest burns and you are not sure what you are supposed to do and how to suppress all those whimpers and moans you are so readily feed Ran with. 

Somewhere in the kiss, right after he hugs you impossibly closer to him, both arms around you, he smiles. The flame in your chest is now fire, and so you push him away. “What?” He asks leaning in again, this time pressing wet open mouthed kisses across your jaw. It makes it harder to speak, breath uneven and clogged, “Why are you smiling?” Surprised, he looks up, “I thought you were gonna ask me what the kiss was about, but you so you, and… why do you think I am smiling?” He waits for an answer and your brain runs kilometres in a millisecond, but you can’t come up with a decent answer that is not embarrassing or humiliating and full of self–doubt. Instead, you want to kiss Ran more and you want him to hug you tight again, hands holding you together, in one piece. And so you do. And it feels nice and it feels beautiful and right. And probably you should have had a conversation about all these before, but as he said you are you and he is Ran Haitani, and you kinda like doing everything in mysterious complicated ways only understandable to you. So you kiss more and he kisses across your face and under your jaw and then your neck where he plants bites and hickeys that bloom right away. Pretty shades of purple.  Only when you are sitting on top of him and his hands slide under your [his] shirt, does he stop. Hair a wild mess, he tilts his head and retracts his hands from your bare waist moving them to your face, which he cradles with all the gentleness in the world. He searches for something, anything, in your expression, but only finds swollen lips and pretty eyes that hold all the stored love they never gave away. And he crumbles, falling so hard and so fast, you hear the air crying and flowers blooming in his chest. 

Right at this moment, you both know, he’d do whatever you want and this will either be the best reward of his life or his demise. [As if you ever would let the last happen]. Ran presses a small barely there kiss to the corner of your lips and nudges your cheek with his nose. He takes a deep content breath full of the meaning you don’t catch on. Not because you don’t understand, but because you can’t, because he holds your head to his and kisses that sweet place right below your ear. Because he whispers, asking you, “How do you feel?” “Good. I feel good, Ran. I really really do,” you breathe out, hands clutching onto his shoulders. You can’t see his face, he buries it in your neck, inhaling your very being into himself. Storing you and what you are to the depths of his heart to where he will never let anyone reach. 

Your skin absorbs his smile and it makes you happy. So happy, you believe, if you died right there in his arms, an army of bees and the prettiest pink camellias would swerve from your ashes and Ran would name them all. 

_ The afternoon was spent exchanging lazy kisses and tender caresses. The time passes and the rain continues and when you stand outside of Haitani’s apartment building waiting for Ran who forgot his card upstairs, you inhale the wet aroma of pavement and green leaves and everything seems fine. Uncertain and wobbly, but fine. 

You actually believe that if sharks would come right now and try to swallow you for the first time ever you would fucking fight them. And they would back off. _ “You know, we should have ordered,” Ran complains in his small accusatory voice that you haven’t heard in so long. “You are soaking.” “Maybe. But then the poor delivery guy would’ve suffered and the food would be cold and…” Ran gives you the look. The one you haven’t forgotten, but could never crack up before. Where he believes you are very cute, but hella naive and a bit stupid. Now, though, you know what this small smile with a very relaxed face means. Now, that you know, you just nod embarrassment overflowing, and turn away from him, cheeks hot and hands trembling. He notices it all. He finds you endearingly cute. So cute, he wants to tear you apart. “You know, let’s just eat our burgers and get home.” “Burgers and fries, Ran. You did order fries, right?” “Yeah. Yeah. And fries. I just really wanna get you home.” _

“Say it again,” Ran murmurs, tenderly kissing your right cheek. His hair is still wet from the shower and his skin is slightly tinted red from the hot water. The huge tattoo that splits his body in half is more evident than ever and you find your gaze lingering there, tracing pretty shapes of it. 

He doesn’t wear much. Only sweatpants. And straddling him, legs hugging his hips, you can clearly tell that there’s nothing under them. Only him and his bare skin.  The smell of his shampoo and gel shower lingers in the room and it’s unclear if it’s from him or from you since you’ve been indulgently using his toiletries this whole time. Not because you always wanted to be closer to him, but because there was just no way you’d use Rindou’s mint one. Vanilla and bergamot it is then.

And now, all senses high and elevated, you claw at Ran’s naked shoulders, letting him slowly mouth your neck and you throw your head back, and you inhale this pleasant aroma that will forever remain you of these days and you desperately try to compose yourself. Dissolving into him would be easier, but you want to remember every single moment and every single sensation, and so you stay. “When was the last time you had sex?” In his question there’s no shame or hesitation, and it’s good. Really good. Because Ran doesn’t want to hide his intentions and pretend nothing is going to happen since this morning it was clear you would be under him today.

 “And with whom. I wanna know who had you last.” There’s slight fear in his last demand and you want to wonder why, but you stop yourself before your mind could create impossible scenarios and trap you. You pull back a little, peering into his face. You need to know why he is asking you this and as if he understands you, he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I am asking, because I need to know how hard I can go and what you can take from me.” His hands, warm and attentive, slide under your shirt. You too wear nothing under it. He doesn’t seem too surprised when he finds it out. Instead, he stops at the small of your back and hugs you closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you or make you do something you aren’t ready for.” If not for the gentle fire in your heart, you would’ve cried. But you drop your head down, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. There’s something in them you aren’t mentally prepared for and Ran should be fearing about it more, than he does about sex. “I am not afraid of you and you won’t hurt me.” You say and then something possesses you and you cradle his face in your palms and you hold the whole world there and he isn’t aware of it and everything hurts, but in a good sweet way. “Can we kiss some more? I really like kissing you and I like you. You asked me to say it again and I will. I like you, Ran. So so so much.”

Ran kisses wet and sloppily and he grabs at your waist so clumsily, so unsure and so uncertain that it sells him immediately away. He has never kissed anyone like this and now that he has it has him spiralling. And so out of his mind, he pulls you closer, his bare chest against your [his] t-shirt and he does it again, and then again and again, as if could possibly merge with you, because being like this seems so so so far away to him. He wants you closer and it physically hurts him not being able to. And so he takes a good look at your flustered face, your perfect collarbones picking out of the loose clothing and dives in to kiss you again. This time he doesn’t stop only at your lips, but he mouths across your neck, guiding his tongue across the bruises he left this morning. He smiles all the way down to your collarbones and his smile makes you smile too, and despite you being quite shy and awkward you grin, melting in his happiness. 

If that’s how love feels, it feels good, it feels right and it might help you. It should. You want to give it the power to.

Somewhere between losing yourself in each other completely and starving hands, Ran hooks his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt and lifts it upwards. There must not be enough of you for him and so he wants more. But you freeze, heart beating so fast, it’s going to burst any second now, and Ran understands. He puts a gentle sweet kiss on your lips and presses his forehead to yours.

His breathing is ragged and fast. 

“We don’t have to do anything. It won’t be good for you if you feel…,” he starts, but you take all those words with your mouth on his. You don’t want to hear what he has to say, because you know what it’s going to be. And you don’t want your fear to overwhelm you, because that’s what has been living inside you and that’s what you’ve been trying to carve out of your soul. With razors, scissors and knives. Never with love or understanding. You slip away from him. You take off your shirt and place it near you on the bed. Ran watches you. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, but not any move of yours passes by unattended by him. He glides over your breasts and there’s a slight jerk under you and suddenly you want to hide yourself. You almost do, but then you think better of it and you raise your hips and you try to take your sweatpants off, but Ran stops you. “Don’t,” he murmurs, flipping you on your back. “Don’t. I wanna do everything myself. I want to undress you myself. And I want you to kiss your body and I want to play with your tits until you lose your mind and then I want to eat you out and make you cum, because you fucking deserve it. Because this fucking tension needs to go the fuck away. Okay? And then I want to kiss you and then I want to fuck you and I will watch your face as I do it. I’ve always wanted to see your sweet pretty face under me. Always wanted to hear how you will scream for me and how insanely perfect you’ll be with my cock inside you. Okay?” You nod and he does exactly what he said. And Ran is attentive and careful and very very kind. He talks you through everything and doesn’t push your buttons even though a couple of times you secretly wish he did. That night it’s only one round. Mainly because he is too exhausted and sleepy after he cleans you up and dresses you in his boxers and a new clean t-shirt. 

You don’t change sheets though and decide against opening the window. Because it’s heavily raining outside again and because none of you wants to get up from the warm bed and lose the comfort of each other. “Is it too early to say that I love you?” He whispers, taking a full deep breath. 

You think it’s not, but you say that it is and he laughs seemingly seeing through your small insincerity. “Okay. Then you should ride me tomorrow morning. I deserve it after today.” “You know, Ran, I think this is too, too early to ask of me.” “Really?” “Well, yeah.” “But I kinda already asked and I kinda already…” A loud thunderstorm slams Tokyo and you get startled. Your body is aching in all the pleasant ways and you don’t have any capability in yourself to continue this ridiculous conversation. You press a kiss to his chest and hide yourself in the crook of his neck. You are safe and you are in love and pain is still there, and memories will never die, but pink camellias are blooming and bees are going to return. _ Rindou is not supposed to get back next afternoon, but he does. 

It’s still raining and Haruchiyo is at his back complaining about how much he hates humidity, because his hair gets all frizzy and ugly. [Not that someone particularly cares about Haruchiyo’s hair, but Rindou is too tired to argue with him, so he just hums.] Because he understands where Haruchiyo comes from and he is also still tipsy. 

Yesterday, before boarding the bus they did drink a little too much. But the bar they camped in in the night, ditching the comfort of the hotel, was nice and the girl that sucked Rindou off in the back alley behind that said bar, was pretty much exceptional, so he won’t complain. 

Besides, he and Haruchiyo, but Rindou more or so he believes, were too worried for you to stay in Osaka. All the girls in the back alleys be damned, they need to see you and make sure you are alright. Short unconstant messages from Ran - “oh, she is fine”, “don’t worry i got her” and “she’ll be just fine” - were not cutting the white patch of horrors off for him. 

Rindou needed to talk to you. He needed to do his little check up and maybe [most definitely] buy you some expensive patterned paper and a couple of cute storage boxes. And because he feels generous enough you’ll stop at Daiso and buy all the stickers you want too. 

“Does it smell like mackerel or am I tripping? Again,” deadpans Haruchiyo taking off his soaking wet shoes. He dumps the sports bag with all his clothes next to Rindou’s and waits for him to take his last evening white now grey Adidas sneakers to go check into the living room. It does indeed smell like grilled fish and vegetables inside the apartment. Tofu and spring onion. He tries his very best to remember when was the last time their apartment smelt of homemade food and simply can’t. To his own dismay, this special cosiness of familiarity and domesticity were more native to Haruchiyo’s studio.   But that’s only because you spent a lot of time there. 

Getting high, getting creative and being you. It clicks and responds and suddenly everything makes perfect sense and they could’ve stayed in Osaka for two days more as planned. 

So when they enter the living room and find you picking out bones out of the fish, Rindou is not surprised. He is not surprised when he notices that it’s actually Ran’s plate in front of you and this small act of service is for him and him only. And he is so not surprised when his own brother doesn’t pay any attention to them staring at you both. His thin lips curled into a tiny smile, chin prompted on his hands as he watches you knowing there won’t be anyone else. 

And there never were. 

It’s all so simple and so fucking stupid. 

“Rindou! Haru!” You notice them, of course you do, and you set the chopsticks aside and run to them, somehow hugging both of them at such an awkward angle, the hug doesn’t last long. 

In the back, Ran clearly rolls his eyes and drags the plate with the boneless fish to him. It makes a disturbing screeching sound. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be back much later? Like in two days?” 

“We changed plans,” Rindou replies without an ounce of venom or disappointment of whatever else he is supposed to feel right now at his brother’s not so inviting tone, “But I guess we were wrong to rush.” Near him Haruchiyo snorts, Ran laughs a little and you with your neck and collarbones a perfect constellation of purple flowers, get so shy, Rindou himself cracks a smile. 

It’s evident where he is looking and what he is reading from it all, and your hand - trembling as per usual - flies to your head, in a poor attempt to cover what can be seen from miles away. More than anything, at this moment, Rindou wants to tell you that there’s nothing you should be ashamed of, nothing to worry about in his presence. 

Hickeys, cuts, bruises and all the blemishes are evidence of feelings and we people are meant to feel them. We are meant to experience them in our own ways. 

But he can’t say that now. He’ll do it later. 

Now, he throws his arm around your shoulders, kisses the top of your head and excuses himself to the bathroom. 

He needs that hot fucking shower now.

_ Three days later the rain stops. 

Haruchiyo goes home the day after they arrive from Osaka and you spend two more nights at Haitani’s. 

You leave when it’s sunny and not so cold for January. Ran offers you his long grey coat and a deep kiss to your lips. At that Rindou rolls his eyes, but he is smiling and so it’s fine. 

They both promise you they’ll stop by your apartment in the evening to go have dinner together. You all settle on something french. It’s weird how today your wants align and you aren’t about to pass this extreme luck of not quarrelling on where to eat.

[You feel like today is going to be a nice day.]

Your parents are home. Your little sister too. The house smells like butter and caramel. They probably had something sweet and nice for breakfast. The last time you ate with them together in the morning was so far away you can barely remember it. It saddens you, but only a little. 

“What are you watching?” You ask your sister. She sits on the floor, her legs inside the kotatsu. It seems to be a new one, because the wooden frame is white instead of dark brown. You’ve never noticed they changed it and you don’t know why. Something might have happened to it or perhaps your mom just wanted a small change. She can be like that sometimes. 

“National Geographic,” she replies without turning her head. “Is it interesting?” You genuinely inquire and she gives you a weirded out look. She shrugs, “I guess so. You learn a lot of things about the world we live in. Like did you know that all flowers have meanings behind them? Yellow roses mean friendship, tulips mean perfect love and camellias symbolise romantic love, adoration and care. It’s pretty cool. Don’t you think so?” 

From the kitchen with two puddings and small all too familiar from childhood silver spoon in her hands emerges your mother. She has a sweet hesitant smile and her face is so lovely and you missed her so so so much. She sits next to you and opens the pudding for you. You think that if she was to feed you, you’d gladly accept. Any neglected love you can take from her you will. “Oh, and bees… that don’t fly south. They actually never fly away,” your sister says and your mother laughs for one reason or another and there’s tears in her eyes and what your sister just said makes no sense at all to anyone, 

but you.  [Maybe tomorrow will be the same too.]

#haitani x reader #haitani ran imagines #haitani brothers #ran #ran fluff #ran x y/n #ran x reader #ran x you #ran haitani #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #haitani rindou #sanzu haruchiyo

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad!William Afton x Reader "Pregnant" Mature/Drabble [1]

FNAF | William Afton (stepdad!) x (f) Reader | MATURE Summary: Imagine: Your mom is pregnant and tells you the 'joyful' news. She doesn't know you carry a child from your stepdad as well. Only, you are not allowed to share the news with anyone. AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. This could follow up on Christmas Present.

Warnings: talk about dub-con/taboo relationship, keeping it a secret, angst, drama, William being mean.

"Come join us at the table, dear," your mom called out to you, her voice brimming with excitement. You reluctantly took a seat, forcing a smile onto your face as she presented a sonogram in front of you. William, your stepdad, stood nearby, his involvement in all this clear by the proud look on his face.

The sight of the sonogram made your stomach churn. No, all but that, you silently pleaded. But the picture was still there. No lie in it.

An unborn child, a baby, already very much formed, sucking its thumb, stared back at you. She wasn’t just pregnant, she must have been for a while. It explained why she started to eat more and had gained weight. You should have noticed. Fighting back the nausea threatening to overwhelm you, you continued to feign happiness for your mom and stepdad's sake.

"Can you believe it?" your mom gushed. "You're finally going to have a sibling! I've wanted to give you a brother or sister for so long, but I never had the chance. And now that I'm getting older, I thought it might be too late. But it's like a Christmas miracle!" She laughed, lost in her joy. "I swear it must have happened on Christmas Eve."

You tried to stomach the details, politely listening while feeling sick to your core. Your eyes searched William's face for any sign of guilt, but he only looked back at you impassively, raising his fingers to his lips in a hushing gesture. Christmas Eve. A miracle indeed, you thought. You remembered the evening well, how William came to your room before going back to your mother. You forced another smile, wishing the conversation could end.

"Mom, Dad, I'm really happy for you both," you managed to choke out, hoping your words sounded genuine. And you would have been, if not for your stepdad constantly putting his cock inside of you behind your mom’s back. You felt guilty and dirty and quite frankly, you felt like a cheap toy to him. Yet, you had grown to love his touches. You craved him.

William Afton had become a need in your life.

And so you would have been happy for your mom if she had married any other man than your stepfather.

"Congratulations, Mom," you whispered, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. You could tell she appreciated the gesture, and for a moment you thought you could fake your way through this. William be damned. He couldn’t break the bond between mother and daughter. Not with his manipulative games, not with his secrets, and not with his control over you. But then, the traitorous nauseating churn in your stomach grew stronger as she clung to you, her joy infectious yet painful for you to witness.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said, pulling back and beaming at you. Your vision blurred, the nausea intensifying until it was unbearable. "I'm just so –"

"Excuse me," you interrupted, clamping a hand over your mouth as you bolted from the table, but it was too late. The contents of your stomach spilled out, splattering across the table in a vile mess.

"Are you okay?" your mom asked, concern etched into her face. "You've been unwell a lot recently."

"Sorry, I'm fine," you lied once the heaving finally stopped, cheeks burning with shame as you grabbed tissues from the counter and started cleaning up the mess. You couldn't let her know the truth. William would kill you if you told her.

"Maybe you should see a doctor soon," your mom suggested, glancing at William for support. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

He nodded, his arms crossed and expression stoic. "Yes, it might be best."

"Thanks for worrying, Mom," you mumbled, your heart thudding in your chest as you wiped away the last traces of vomit. "I promise I'll make an appointment."

"Good," she said, relief flickering in her eyes. "I just want you to be healthy and happy."

"Me too," you whispered, forcing a smile.

With a final swipe, you finished cleaning your mess and rushed past William to throw the dirty tissues in the trash. "Congratulations on becoming a dad again," you said, trying to sound sincere.

"Thank you," he responded with a nasty grin, his voice dripping with malice. "I've always wanted more kids."

His words twisted like a knife in your gut as you retreated to the living room. Your mom beckoned William over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come sit with me, let's think of names for our little miracle."

You watched them for a little while, your heart heavy with sadness, feeling more alone than ever. Why was your stepdad this way, you wondered?

Unable to bear it any longer, you fled to your room, closing the door a bit too loudly behind you. Frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to explode. You groaned and threw yourself onto your bed, tears streaming down your face as you cried out in despair.

"Damn you, William," you choked between sobs, placing a trembling hand on your stomach. "How could you do this to me? How could you do this to my mom? You knew it, you knew all along that something like this could happen and yet -"

You bit your lip and never finished that sentence. Instead, you pulled a yellowing pregnancy test from beneath your pillow – two purple lines stared back, cold and unyielding, a stark reminder of your fate.

The memory of William barging into your room, a smug grin plastered on his face, came rushing back. He had casually tossed you the pregnancy test, demanding that you take it immediately.

"Go on," he'd sneered, "make sure you get it right."

“I’m not pregnant,” you had said boldly. It was what you had hoped, after all. A baby would complicate so many things. It sounded like a nightmare, not a dream. Not like this.

You recalled the humiliation and fear as he forced you to go to the bathroom, standing by your side like a perverse sentinel as you peed on the stick. His eyes never left you, a twisted fascination in his gaze, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of being violated.

"Good girl," he'd said mockingly once you were done, the words dripping with malice. He’d celebrated the outcome of the test quite elaborately. “Let’s see if we can make it twins.” You felt dirty thinking back of it.

Now, staring down at the damning evidence in your hand, you thought about how you probably got pregnant around the same time as your mom. The realization churned your stomach, the sheer wrongness of it all making your head spin. Both of you, carrying this man's child – it was too much to bear.

"Fuck you, William," you whispered bitterly, clenching the pregnancy test tightly in your hand. Your breaths came in shallow and ragged as you tried to calm yourself, focusing on the sensation of the life growing inside you.

"Stay strong," you told yourself, trying to push away the dark thoughts swirling in your mind. "This baby... this baby is innocent. It’s his doing. He is trying to break this family apart."

A knock on the door startled you, and you quickly hid the stick beneath your pillow. Grabbing a book, you pretended to read, hoping to mask your tear-streaked face.

"Sweetie, can I come in?" your mom asked, stepping into the room. Her eyes scanned your face, noting the redness and damp trails on your cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart…I know it's a lot to take in," she said gently, "but I really want you to be happy for me."

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to muster a smile. "Of course, Mom. I'm happy for you both."

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft and grateful. "And with me getting further along in my pregnancy, I'll probably need your help more around the house. Can I count on you? I think you’d be a wonderful big sister."

"Sure, Mom," you agreed, your voice barely audible. As you spoke, William appeared in the hallway, his chilling gaze locked onto yours. He wordlessly flashed two sonograms – one of your mom's baby, the other of your own – before placing a finger to his lips, warning you to stay silent. You had to be quiet; you knew that much.

"Of course, I'll help you, Mom," you reassured her, forcing a smile. "Because I am young and strong."

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Thank you, sweetheart," she murmured.

Suddenly, you felt a flutter within your belly – a small kick from the life growing inside you. Your eyes turned wide as you prayed no one had seen it. Your mom’s eyes were still soft and focused on your face. But your stepdad’s cold blues had darted down to your stomach.

As your mom left the room, William's sinister presence lingered in the doorway, then vanished.

How long could you keep this little life hidden?

~

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#stepdad!william afton #stepdad x stepdaughter #stepdad!william afton x reader #william afton x reader #pregnant reader #angst

[writingoddess1125]

I Fell in love Alone pt. 3

Another shot of depression for you all-

Buggy x GN Reader

Angst and Sad

No warnings just sadness

Support me in Ko-Fi

When Buggy woke up the next morning, He felt awful.. his head was swimming and nausea was going through his system like a tsunami. He shifted and felt the emptiness of the bed next to him- The hangover now not being the worse pain he felt..

He laid there, pressing his face into the pillow as he took in what remained of your scent...thinking of the mornings he would touch your hair or look at your sleeping form next to him, He just wished he'd cherished them more. The creak of the door drew him out of his thoughts, turning to see you walking in with some breakfast and water for him.

He sat up slowly and watched you with foggy eyes at every movement you made. Setting down the tray of food and pouring him a glass of water, as well as kicking a bucket closer to the bed just in case he needed to puke, you already dressed and ready for the day which clued him in that he must have slept very late- or you got up very early.

"Feel better?" You ask softly, he nods softly at this- lying about feeling better. The pain from you not being there just stronger then the sickness of the hangover. Awkward silence fell after this, Buggy finally breaking it with a anxious sigh and turned to meet your eyes.

"(Y/N) I wanted to say im sorry for everything and how I acted can we-" You cut him off quick with a shake of your head, sighing heavily as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Buggy I'm still leaving... This does not change that... I'd never want you to hurt yourself but I am not staying either. I know youre upset but that changes nothing-" You said finally, His face crumbling at your words as he looked away from you. A storm of emotions going over his face as he sat there in the bed.

"I appreciate you being honest with me and honored you shared how you felt... but you are 6 months too late" You say with a final breath, looking to see his eyes flashing with rage.

"Get some rest..." You say softly and get up to leave the room. Closing the door behind you as you heard the first crashed- Him inside the room throwing and destroying the cabin in a fit of pure anger. Taking a shaky breath you walked away, the echoing of his angry cries fading as you left.

You should have known better then to think Buggy would let this go so easily...

For the next 3 days, you saw the love bombing. The gifts magically at your bed, the flowers, the candies and more things you knew possible. How did this guy manage to find a kitten in the middle of the ocean!? The whole crew was also now watching you- you knew it and truthfully that hollowness began to return at having everyones eyes on you all the time like they were waiting for you to fold to Buggy.

You returned everything, bringing it back to Buggys door every chance you got and avoiding even going to dinner your friends bringing you dinner as you didn't want the eyes on you.

Buggy was starting to get frustrated more at himself for failing to get you interested in him again- thinking that you caring for him while hungover showed you still cared and he could keep you from leaving. You almost thought he was going to not port just to keep you on the ship, however it was a pleasant surprise when he did- even if he seemed upset at it as well.

Once at port you exiting the ship with gusto finally the freedom of the small place lifting your spirits from the dead and the idea that you wouldn't be trapped like before filled you to

Spending the day with your friends as you scouted out the village, your crew gathering supplies as you found you way around and planned a new life in the cute village.

Once back to the Big Top your few friends through a going away party for you, Food and drinks being set out as music filled the ship. It was a emotional release you had needed before departing from your life as you knew.

However Buggy's absent from the dinner was very noticable and you knew why.. as the night came to and you giving final hugs to your friends you packed the last of your things in a sack and bring them over your shoulder as you make your way to the Main Deck. Next to the exit you see a figure sitting there, already knowing who it was.

"You really aren't going to stay?..." Buggy said softly as he sat on a barrel looking at the sleepy village.

Stopping you lean against the rails and look at the Captian- he luckily wasn't drunk like before but he looked depressed...

"Buggy... I don't think we are good for each other now-" You say softly, seeing the hurt in his eyes at this. Normally he would throw a fit at being confronted like this- but instead he seemed to accept it and bow his head humbly. "You love bombing me proves that- I know you want to do better now but that doesn't erase what you did before..."

"If...If I became the man you deserve that would treat you right?... would you come back?.." He asked softly, his own fake pride and ego being tossed to the side for the hope of your return.

"I don't know Buggy- I do love you.. But I don't think I can be with you. We are both bad for each other and... You broke my heart" You admit, seeing how he winced at your words. Nodding in a sad understanding that it had been his fault for this- Rubbing the back of his neck.

"But... Maybe in the future, if things are better. We can give it another go." You suggest, unsure of your own words- However you see Buggy look at you, a flash of something you'd never seen in his eyes before. Hope and Drive.

"Really?... If I get better we can maybe see how far this thing can go?" He said softly, you nodding as you adjust the sack over your shoulder. Buggy Biting his lip in thought and nodding, smiling sadly as if he had been told a disappointing joke.

"Well, I'll do what I can to be what you deserve. Even if I am the Biggest Fool in the East Blue, ill be the best there is"

He sadly laughed at this, Opening his arms to gesture to himself in a almost pathetic way.

"You know me! I manage to fail upwards. And Hopefully I can still land before your feet" He said with his signature smile, unable to help yourself you giggle softly.

"I have faith in you"

You kiss his cheek and give his hand a squeeze, tears rolling down your cheeks as you turn and begin to walk off the ship you'd call home for the final time.

"Goodbye Buggs" You say softly as you walk to the pier and into the darkness of the sleeping Village.

Buggy stood there on the deck of his ship, watching the love of his life walk away- taking away what shred of love he had left in his blackened heart- Yet he could only be angry at himself for it... he had driven you away.

His fist clenched as he held back his own tears, looking up to the sky to keep them from falling and let out a shaky breath. Vowing silently to become the best to bring you back to him..

Tag List-

@starsali @nerdisthenewcool @aleisha127 @delectableworm @aleracrovn @myhubbyisbuggy @d1ner @soft-mafia @foggyturtleknightangel @devils-blackrose @valentinass-whotookmyname @onelatenight-longago @natalieisfreeziing @straightedgegoth

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader

[themultifandomgal]

Connor Rhodes- Your Pregnant

Trigger warning- emetophobia (talks about throwing up and feeling nausea. Not in a lot of detail).

Having children wasn't originally something I though would happen for me. At the age of 31 I broke up with my cheating boyfriend then at 32 I fell in love with Connor after meeting him at Mollys. At that point I thought I would be to old by the time we both wanted children. Connor and I quickly moved in together, and are now engaged to be married in the next year.

Today I've been suffering from a headache on and off. I have also been super tired and at times nauseous. Thankfully I've had today off work so I've just been sleeping on the couch.

I sit up rubbing my face when I hear the door open then close

"Babe?" I hear Connor call out to me

"In here" I look up and see Connor frown at me. He walks over and places his hand on my forehead

"You ok? You look pale"

"Yeah just not been feeling good today"

"Why don't you head up to bed and I'll bring up some anti sickness meds with something to eat and drink"

"Ok" I get up and leave the living room to go upstairs to mine and Connors bedroom.

After getting changed and into bed Connor brings up some crackers, water and anti sickness meds

"You need you to eat these first then you can take the tablets"

"Thanks" I take the crackers and take a small bite. This goes on till I have finished and take the anti sickness tablets

"Get some rest. Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning"

The following morning I don't feel better, in fact for the next week I spend it tired, nauseous and throwing up. I obviously just think it's a bug I've picked up from somewhere. Connor and I are currently in bed, I'm reading a book while he's on his phone. All of a sudden I feel urge to throw up. Dropping my book on the bed next to me, I get up and run to mine and Connors shared bathroom. Just making it. The whole time Connor is holding my hair and rubbing my back

"How are you feeling now?" Connor asks me

"Fine. The nauseas gone now. Im just super tired like I've not slept enough. Think it must be a bug"

"You've been tired and sick all week. You're breasts have grown. Maybe your pregnant" I give Connor a look as if to say 'seriously?'

"I'm not pregnant"

"Are you sure because we haven't been very carful recently"

"Connor I'm not pregnant. I'm due for my period, that explains my boobs being bigger. You know I get nauseous when I'm about to come on"

"For a day yeah but not a week. Babe I think you need to take a test. I really think your pregnant"

"Babe I'm not pregnant"

"Why? We have sex, your not on the pill. And don't tell me your too old to get pregnant, your 33. A lot of woman get pregnant in their 30s now"

"Surely I would know if I'm pregnant"

"Not necessarily. Look why don't we go to bed and sleep. Then tomorrow I'll go and get some tests"

"Fine"

"You want an anti sickness tablet before we go to sleep?" Connor asks me. I shake my head and get back into bed, almost immediately falling asleep.

The following day Connor grabs some pregnancy tests for me. I take them to the bathroom, pee on all of them and wait for 5 minutes while sat on the toilet seat and Connor is sat on the edge of the bath. When my phone goes off I look at all of the pregnancy tests... positive

"Well?"

"We're having a baby" I say almost in shock

"Your pregnant?" I nod my head responding to Connor "I'm gonna be a dad?"

"Yeah"

"We're gonna be parents!" Connor yells excitedly. I get up off the toilet smiling as Connor then lifts me up in the air kissing all over my face causing me to giggle "you are going to be an amazing mom"

"And your gonna be wonderful dad. I can't believe we're going to be parents"

"I'm so happy. I love you so much YN"

"I love you too"

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x y/n #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes x you #connor rhodes imagine

[adrift-in-thyme]

I wrote this a few months ago for Febuwhump...Day 13 I think? I was super excited about sharing it. But when my schedule got crazy I had to change my plans and didn't get a chance to post it.

So here it is now!

CW for blood, injury, vomiting, and torture (including sleep deprivation)

--------------

Another slap snaps Time’s head back, stinging across his face. Stars explode before him and turn the semi-darkness spotty. He grits his teeth against the rising tide of nausea.

“I asked you a question.” A wiry, whiskered man leans forward, malice glinting in his small, rat-like eyes. “And you will answer me.”

Time drags in a breath. The air is stale, tinged with the sickening iron scent of metal chains and his blood. His attackers loom over him, knuckles red from their assaults upon him, faces sneering.

He ignores them. He has seen quite enough of them, after all, in the past few days. And he doesn’t doubt that he will be seeing quite a bit more. 

He has no plans to give in anytime soon. It doesn’t matter how they pressure him, or how many torture methods they try. He will never give up one of their own.

“I told you,” he croaks, “I do not know anyone with the power to resurrect Ganon.”

A meaty fist grasps his shoulder, fingers digging into the stab wound there. Time just barely manages to bite off a scream. 

“Wrong answer!”

The man steps closer. The magic that emanates from him is all wrong. Upside down and inside out and not his own in the least. The people he has dragged it out of, stolen it from, cry out with every movement he makes. It is all Time can do not to gag as the sounds and smells of it smother him.

“I am a sorcerer– ” 

“You’re a thief and a coward,” Time spits. Fingers turn into a fist, slamming into his wound with a ferocity that makes him lightheaded. He hardly hears his own cry. 

“I am a sorcerer,” the man repeats. He grabs Time’s chin, forces his head up so he has no choice but to look at him. “One who has sworn his very life to the Demon King. I have the power to do what must be done. I will bring him back and help him take his rightful place as ruler of Hyrule. I need only for you to give me the answer I seek.”

A bitter smirk lifts Time’s lips, even as blood drains down from them. 

“Ganondorf would be ashamed to have a follower such as you. How long have you held me here now? Four days? And you have wasted that time on repeating the same question. Perhaps, you should use that skill with magic you pretend to possess and find another avenue to resurrect him. Because searching for someone who can do it for you is a fool’s errand.”

Another blow knocks his head back. It hits the damp stone wall with a nauseating crack. Time pitches forward, retching, and the wizard steps back and out of the way. 

“You are full of pride, hero,” he sneers. “You forget your place, you ignore your situation.”

Time skewers him with as severe a glare as he can muster. “I have not forgotten either. In fact, I know them quite well. Which is why I have told you the truth. No person exists with the blood that can resurrect Ganon.”

“Truth? What truth? You have done nothing except to mock me and spew lies.”

The sorcerer whirls away and a streak of flame zips through Time’s veins. He cannot restrain his harsh cry as agony washes over him. But just as quickly as it comes, it is gone. And he has a split second to drag in a few, desperate wheezing breaths. Then, the sorcerer begins to speak once more, every word like another assault. 

“You are correct in one way, however. I have consistently used the same methods to pry the words from you. No torture, whether by magic or physical harm, has moved you from your stance of silence.” He pauses, hand held to his chin in contemplation. “Perhaps, it is time to try another avenue. Bring in the other one.”

With a wave of one bony hand, his companions jolt into action, rushing from the room, and slamming the leaden door behind them. 

Time’s eye widens, fear slicing through him. He had thought he was the only one the thugs had captured. He had been alone, after all, scouting the far perimeters of the camp, when they had knocked him out. 

The sorcerer looks back at him, now, a sly grin stretching his wide mouth.

“Your little friend happened to spot us dragging you away and decided to try and be a hero. Fortunately, my little sleeping spell worked as effectively to knock him out as it did with you.”

The door slides open with an eerie creak and Time turns toward it, heart in his throat.  

“Ah.” The sorcerer sets a hand on his shoulder, fingernails digging through his tunic. “And there was another fortunate development for us. You well know that my spells are excruciating. Wonderful for convincing, to be certain. But you spared me the trouble of exerting too much magical energy on you two. You are quite the collector of masks, it seems. And while some were childish at best, others have proven…very useful.”

A familiar form stumbles over the threshold, wrists clasped in the unforgiving grip of manacles. His tunic and trousers are splotched with dirt and dried blood and his shoulders sag with exhaustion. His long, blonde hair has been freed from its hair band and falls limply forward to hide his features. But his ears peek through it and the sight of them makes Time’s stomach turn. 

They are encased in a prison of wiry black metal. Time would recognize that sight anywhere. 

“No,” he breathes.

Wild lifts his head and the leaden weight in Time’s gut twines itself tighter. 

The cage of unyielding obsidian extends to the rest of his face, curving in web-like strands across his cheeks and forehead. Eyes once the same shade as Malon’s are now blood red and rimmed in white. They stare wide and terrible, fixed in an expression of permanent horror. 

Despite it all, a shaky grin quirks Wild’s lips. 

“H-hey, old man,” he slurs, fumbling to keep his feet beneath him.

His captor practically drags him the rest of the way into the room. They hurl him down beside Time and he lands on the hard floor with a grunt. 

Laughter rings out, echoing off of the walls of the cell and Time drags his attention away from his cub to scowl at the wizard. The man meets his stare without fear.

“I don’t have to explain the implications of this little development to you, do I? You know full well what that horrid device of yours does.”

He turns away, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on his face. “It has been four days for him as well. Four without a wink of sleep. I wonder…how long can one go without slumber? I will leave you both to ponder that.”

The door screams as it is once again pulled open. And the sorcerer glides out in a rush of nauseating power and swishing robes.

“What a creep,” Wild mumbles, gazing at the spot where he had stood. He lists slightly to the side, bumping against Time’s uninjured shoulder. Time wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Have they truly forced you to wear that for four days?” He asks, worry turning his tone sharp. His own pain seems inconsequential now, the ache of his wounds a far-off thing. All that matters is the broken boy slumped against him.

Jerkily, Wild nods. A small sniffle sounds from beneath the mask. 

Time’s heart clenches. “Oh, cub, I’m so sorry.”

The champion shrugs, weakly. “Least it doesn’t…doesn’t put me to sleep. Rather be kept ‘wake.” He giggles, drunk on exhaustion, fighting against the tears Time hears in his voice. “And ‘sides…got hundred years of sleep under m-my belt. Gotta count…right? Be fine.”

With a sigh, he shifts, head slipping down to rest on Time. The harsh edges of the mask bite into his abused flesh. But he doesn’t move away. The least he can do is act as Wild’s makeshift pillow. 

If he could, he would tear the mask off of him and shatter it on the hard ground. But once the cursed thing has latched onto its victim’s face, only the one who put it there can remove it. And if the blood visible beneath its dark edges is any indication, Wild has already learned what happens to anyone else who attempts it.

“They hur-hurt you too,” the champion murmurs, after a pause. His tone is more somber now and fearful. Like a lost child, pleading with a parent for reassurance. “I…I can’t really see straight anymore but…they told me…they told me they were. ‘M sorry.”

Time shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, cub. I’m alright.”

Gently, he brushes Wild’s bangs back, trying not to wince as his fingertips touch icy metal rather than warm skin. The champion leans into his touch, curling up like the barn cats do when they are seeking warmth. Any other time, the older hero would find it amusing. Now, it only makes his heart ache.

“Can’t tell them,” Wild mumbles, barely audible now. “Can’t tell ‘bout Rule.”

Time draws in a trembling breath. “No.”

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to save his cub from this terrible fate. And by the goddesses, he is going to find them. Even if he has to burn the place down.

#trin writes #febuwhump #torture tw #blood tw #injury tw #linked universe #lu time #lu wild #linkeduniverse fic #whump #angst #sorry about the open ending #i meant to continue this one #but you know #anyway #wild and time my absolute beloveds #they're such a good duo #also that all night mask is soooo creepy #i love it

[wyvnspng]

Mum said it’s my turn on the writing.

Ive never posted a fic before call me cringe but oh well.

My interpretation of the au and characters! probably takes place somewhere during the world’s worst roadtrip arc or whatever we called it. I love monsters and Clyde is so cool to me.

Sorta beta’d by my good friend Clemin thank you kindly.

—-

Harold's job was a boring one. Just a cashier for some no-name gas station. Every day he spent his work hours hoping for something new and interesting to happen, and yet it never did.

Each day he entered the building was just as boring as the last, and as much as he wanted to, he could not quit in order to look for a more interesting job, as he needed the money to keep a roof over his head and food in his belly.

His energy was spent on the monotonous tasks that came with a cashier job, and his thoughts were reserved for daydreaming away the slow and boring days without directly falling asleep.

His mind yearned for stimulation, something to distract himself from the dreary repetitive days he found himself trapped in. Yet, as he eyed the literal monster currently occupying the room with him, his mind and body frozen in terror from it simply existing in such close proximity, he can’t help but miss the simple yet boring days of the past.

Whatever this thing was, it was definitely the eastridge demon or whatever it was called. He’d unfortunately never paid too much mind to the stories about the thing, instead brushing it off as some fairytale, but from what he can recall people saying about it, the thing in front of him matched the description.

Curiously, it was accompanied by a human. One Alex Williams if his memory is correct. He recalls briefly seeing (her? his?) their wanted poster. They were talking to the demon as if the two were friends, which might be the case. Probably why they had a wanted poster. Is conspiring with demons illegal? He’s not sure.

He’s also not sure how they are so calm around that thing. The sight of it makes his blood freeze in his veins and its voice makes his ears ring. He feels unbelievably cold, his terror so overwhelming that he can’t even shake in fear. Yet Alex(?) looks right at home around that thing. They don't even react to the terrible cacophony that is the demon's voice. Layers of voices and sounds that mix into a terrifyingly unpleasant sensation that grates at the ears, yet somehow this random person is completely fine. They even respond to the monster, as if the incomprehensible mess of sound was some understandable language.

A small part of Harold feels envious. How cool it must be to have befriended such a creature. He wonders how something like that happens. There’s probably an interesting story there, but he won’t dare to ask and risk irritating the demon.

The two seem to be arguing (how brave they must be to argue with it,) and from the half of the conversation he can understand without being distracted by his rising dread, the monster is asking to buy stuff that they can’t afford. Oddly childish for something so scary, but he won’t say anything.

The demon makes a new sound, which he is capable of recognising as a fucked up growl (or hiss?), and somehow his body gets even colder, nausea biting at his insides. If he was actually this cold he’s pretty sure he’d have hypothermia by now. Its long tail whips at the floor irritably, leaving noticeable scratches, and Alex scolds it. For some reason it listens, and seems to calm down somewhat, resigning to their shared fate of being poor.

Alex does allow it to grab one thing, and it picks a jar of jam for some reason. Oh well, who’s he to judge if the demon likes jam? It is pretty good after all. The duo then makes their way over to him, and he can’t help but flinch away from them. Neither pay mind to it, and simply pay for all the items they wanted. His movements are choppy and his limbs jerk around awkwardly, but they don’t comment on it. He specifically avoids looking at it, keeping his eyes on the more comforting figure of Alex. (He can still see its face in his peripheral vision.)

After paying the two just.. leave. No killing, no destruction beyond a few scratches and misplaced items. He didn’t calm down immediately, it took a while for his body to move properly again, and his arms shake for the rest of the day. He’s noticeably spooked by the time his shift is over, and he doubts that he’ll recover from this any time soon.

The rest of his day is spent looking over his shoulder, paranoia biting at the back of his neck. He can’t bring himself to turn the lights of his house off at night. Maybe that makes him a bigger target, but the image of something towering over him, the only thing he can see of it being a pair of eyes and maybe a wide grin of teeth. The image terrifies him endlessly.

Harold doesn’t sleep that night.

#doai sitcom au #doai #dreams of an insomniac #alex williams doai #doai clyde #a few sentences are a bit awkward #but im too lazy to fix them #nervous about sharing this ngl #i wrote this at 3am i am tired #it’s currently 6am #so please ignore any spelling or grammatical errors #wyvns post

[rocknrollbabe14]

Rock a Bye Professor

Part Three

Read part one here, part two here

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INERACT.

Warnings: Direct mentions of sex, birth control, missed period, nausea, vomiting, pregnancy and abortion. Professor/Student trope at college level. Both consenting adults. Don't like it, don't read. Thank you!

 You sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, checking your watch. Joe was running behind for the baby’s appointment. You looked around as you bit your lip. This was an important appointment, hoping you’d get to hear the heartbeat today. There were a lot of pregnant women who were further along than you and some with babies. It hit you like a ton of bricks that soon, that would be your life. Your phone rang easily, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, love. Running a little behind. Had to leave class early. They haven’t called you back yet, have they?”

“No, not yet.”

“I am coming. Turning up the hill now.”

“Don’t speed, our baby needs its daddy.”, you smirked easily. 

“Don’t wanna miss this, love.”

You laughed easily, feeling the happiest you had been in a long time. You all were really doing this. You all were going to have a baby together. 

“I’m getting ready to park. I’ll be in shortly. I love you.”

“I love you.”

The phone clicked off easily as you stared down at your lap. The closer it got to your appointment, the more anxious you became. What if something was wrong with the baby? What if it no longer had a heartbeat? You’d feel so guilty having Joe here to be part of that. You shook your head, trying to shake away the negative thoughts as you looked up to see him rushing over to you. 

“Hey, love. Sorry, I’m late.”

Joe was in black slacks and a green sweater along with his black blazer. It was cold outside today, nearing twenty degrees. The scent of his cologne already hit your nose, sending chills down your spine. It was like home. How did you manage to stay away from him for weeks?

You stood up to hug him before you both shared a small kiss. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.”

You both sat down and he took your hand easily, thumbing over your hand. You smiled up at him, his brown eyes shining. He looked so happy and ecstatic. 

“Have you been feeling okay today?”

“After this morning, I’ve felt alright. I didn’t eat before I left.”

“You’ve not eaten anything?”

Concern was evident in his voice, his brows raising in surprise. 

“No, I was too nauseous.”

He sighed softly. “Did you throw up after I left?”

You shook your head. “No, just super nauseated.”

While you and Joe were waiting, he picked up a maternity magazine and began flipping through it. You watched him easily as he began skimming over a few things. He was wearing his glasses or otherwise, he would have to squint to read. 

“Did you know that our baby’s eyes are half closed but can react to light?”

You smiled. “No.”

“Yeah, that’s amazing. At only ten weeks old.”

It was cute how excited he was becoming about the baby, now that he knew. You watched as he continued reading, leaning back in the chair. 

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”, the nurse called out as she opened the door, catching your attention.

Joe laid the magazine down, and you both rose up from your chairs. Joe let you go first, disappearing behind the door. He followed. The nurse checked your weight and vital signs before taking you back to a private room. She asked you a few questions about how things had been going—how you were eating, if you were having a lot of morning sickness, the usual. Next, she told you the doctor would be in shortly. The nurse gave you a gown, you undressed easily before getting back on the table.

The door closed, leaving you and Joe alone in the room. You sat on the exam table, holding your very small bump. If you could even call it a bump. It wasn’t long before a knock came to the door, the doctor entered and introduced herself.

“Hey Y/N, how have things been going? This must be your husband?”, she asked, looking up at Joe.

Before you had the chance to answer, he did for you. “Not yet. Boyfriend and baby daddy.”

Not yet? What did he mean by that? You looked at him, surprised. 

“Okay,”, she began as she sat down on her stool. “Have you decided about what you’re going to do?”

“We’re keeping the baby.”, you breathed easily as Joe took your hand and kissed your forehead.

She looked surprised before nodding. “So, you’d like to see your baby today? You’re ten weeks. Vitals look good, weight is still okay. You’ve lost a pound since your last appointment. Have you been having morning sickness?”

You looked at Joe easily before answering. “We’d love to see the baby. And I have been having a lot of morning sickness.” 

The doctor scribbled some notes. “I’ll write you some Zofran for nausea. Any other symptoms?”

“Just normal ones.”, you sighed.

She nodded. “Alright, well we will do another ultrasound today to check on the baby, see how it’s growing. So if you’ll lay back for me and pull your gown up, I’ll turn off the lights and we’ll look at your baby.”

You nodded as you laid back, Joe pulling the sheet over your legs right at your pelvis. Your belly was exposed, and he gave it a small rub before the doctor came back. 

“Alright—really cold gel.”

She squirted the gel on your belly, causing chills to instantly cascade down your spine. You tried to take a deep breath and relax, but your baby was on your mind. You needed to know if your baby was alright. Joe smiled softly at you, holding your hand. His eyes were glued to the blank screen as the doctor placed the transducer on your belly, running it over, looking for the perfect view of your baby. The screen was hues of black and white, the swish and swoosh sounds running together as she searched for your baby. 

Her eyes were narrowed, she was focused. Joe rubbed your arm with his other free hand, trying to soothe you. He knew deep down inside, you were worried. Truth was, he was nervous too. He wanted to see his baby. He was chomping at the bits, ready to see his baby. The baby you both had made together. 

All of a sudden, she found your baby. Its small arms and legs which were beginning to form came into view, along with its head and small body. Joe laughed, shocked and amazed while his brown eyes glanced over at you. You were smiling back before you both turned your attention back to the screen.

“Ah, here it is—here’s your baby.”, your doctor smiled, beginning to capture some pictures for you both to take home. 

“Look at its little arms.”, you smiled at Joe, sniffling easily. 

He sniffled, you could see the tears pooling in his brown eyes before he smiled at you. “And it’s little body.”

You giggled. “It’s really our baby.”

He smiled before he leaned down to share another kiss with you, brushing your hair out of your face easily. “Sure is, baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, once again gaining your attention. Joe smiled, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“Our baby’s heartbeat.”, he smiled, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

“I know.”, you smiled, sniffling. 

Joe wiped the stray tear that was sliding down your cheek. 

“It’s such a beautiful sound.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

The rhythm of your baby’s heartbeat was displayed on the screen. The doctor was printing everything as she smiled at you both.

“Everything looks good. Baby’s measuring about a week ahead, but it looks perfectly healthy. Heartbeat is 140. Perfect.”, she smiled as she prepared to shut off the machine. 

You took a sigh of relief before you and Joe shared another kiss. 

“Alright. I’ll see you back in four weeks. Hopefully, then, we’ll get to find out the gender of your baby. Call the office if you need anything. I’ll send in your prescription for Zofran to your pharmacy. Okay? Here’s the pictures of your baby.”, she smiled as she handed the printouts to you, Joe instantly looking over your shoulder at them. 

The doctor left, allowing you to get dressed. Joe grabbed your waist from behind, placing a kiss on your neck. “Wanna grab some lunch and coffee?”

“Isn’t caffeine bad for the baby?”, you smirked as he felt your belly. 

“One cup of coffee is okay. About twelve ounces. That’s what they recommend that you drink.”, he mumbled as he placed soft kisses on your neck, sending chills down your spine.

“I guess I could eat.”, you smirked easily. 

“You need to. You’re eating for two.”, he smirked as you opened the door, ready to leave. 

“Okay, I’ll eat.”

You both decided on the small cafe in town, most people didn’t go there to hang out. Especially from college. So, it felt safe to go there to eat and relax after seeing the baby and hearing its heartbeat. It was a happy day, one to celebrate. You rode with Joe, he parked on the street. Joe got out first, opening your door. You thanked him, still not used to a man doing nice things for you. But Joe was different—he went out of his way to make you feel cared about. He grabbed your hand before holding the door open, allowing you to both enter the small cafe. 

The weather was freezing, causing you to shiver. You pulled your coat closer, teeth chattering inside your mouth. Joe rubbed your shoulders easily as you both looked at the menu, trying to decide what to order. You decided on a chicken salad croissant, coffee, and water. Joe decided on a salad and tea. It was going to be a light lunch, but he promised to make dinner for you. After Joe pulled your chair out, you both sat down. He grabbed your hands from across the table, acting like you were both love-drunk teenagers. 

They brought your drinks and food to the table, leaving you both to talk. 

“So, are you gonna stay over tonight?”, Joe stirred in his salad, mixing the vegetables with the dressing. 

“Yeah, if you want me to.”

“Of course, I want you to. I wanna look at pictures of our baby while we’re laying in bed and start trying to guess what it will be.”

You smirked as you took a sip of water. “You do?”

“Yes, love. Sound like a good night to you?”

You nodded before taking a bite of your croissant, looking up at the register. 

“Shit.”, you hissed, almost dropping your croissant.

“What?”, Joe asked easily, instantly worried.

“There’s Haleigh from class. What do—what do we do?”

Panic instantly began to coarse through your veins. Joe could read the panic in your eyes, letting go of your hand easily. You instantly saw the disappointment in his eyes as his happy, giddy mood slightly faded as he looked down at his salad. It pained him to have to continuously hide this, but he understood. With the baby coming, he didn’t want to lose his job and didn’t want you kicked out of college. You instantly felt guilty for ruining his mood—or at least you felt like you had.

“Just act natural.”, he said softly, continuing to stare down at his salad.

You took a sip of your water, trying to wash down the bite of chicken salad croissant you almost choked on. You held your breath as your classmate and your boyfriend’s student finished ordering, praying that there was some slight hope she might miss you all, maybe she wouldn’t notice you. That would be the best-case scenario, but things are not looking good right now. 

But all your efforts were futile. 

“Oh hey Y/N!! And—Professor Quinn?”

You looked up, seeing Joe’s eyes close at the sound of his name. Now, you all would have to come up with a cover. 

“Oh hey—Haleigh. Nice to see you out in town.”, you smiled, praying you were a good liar. 

“Yes—nice to see you, Haleigh.”, Joe smiled softly.

“So—is this like a study date? Or what?”, Hayleigh laughed easily, but there was some jealousy evident in her voice. 

You knew there were a lot of students that lusted after him. You could see it in their eyes when they watched him turn to write on the board, biting their lip as they stared at his ass, giggling softly. It made you burn with jealousy and part of you worried that he would find a new flavor of the month, forgetting you completely. So far, he hadn’t. He still loved and cared about you. There were some of the same girls who asked him for tutoring sessions after class, making sure to show a little extra cleavage. It was one of the reasons he was home late sometimes.

Were there nights when you worried that things had gone too far? That he had allowed the girls to take things too far? That the tutoring session may have progressed to something more. The thought plagued you, but you never let him know about your doubts and fears. 

“Oh—I saw Y/N here and she asked if I wouldn’t mind running over a few things with her—if I could spare my dinner time and I agreed.”

Hayleigh laughed easily. “Oh—I was gonna ask the same, Professor Quinn. Could you spare next Thursday evening? Maybe after our night lab?”, she twirled a piece of her hair, smiling as she bit her lip. 

Joe smiled easily, but your smile soon faded into a frown. 

“Yes, get with me after class on Thursday.”, he nodded.

“Thanks so much, Professor Quinn. Can’t wait.”

She walked off and exited the cafe, him breathing a sigh of relief. Your smile was still a frown, taking a sip of your coffee.

“What’s wrong, love?”, Joe asked. 

“Nothing.”

“It’s something. Tell me.”

“You’re agreeing to tutor Hayleigh after your late lab.”

“You’re upset?”

You didn’t make eye contact with him, taking another sip of your coffee.

“Y/N, this is my job. It’s nothing like that.”, he breathed.

“Not right now.”

Joe scoffed easily. “Love, I would never—”

Your voice cracked, and your eyes instantly began to swell up with tears. “You say that now. But I’m gonna get all fat and pregnant and hormonal—God, it’s already starting.”

Leaning on the table, you already put your head in your hands and began to cry. 

“Baby.”, he breathed softly, feeling instantly horrible for seeing you cry. 

Your eyes were still closed as you waved him off, trying to make him stop. 

“I love you, Y/N. Yes, you’re pregnant. But you’re having my baby. And it’s normal for you to feel emotions you’re not used to feeling. That’s normal. Your body’s changing, love. I know all about the process, trust me. And I want to be here with you and be there with you through it.”, he took your hands, rubbing his thumbs across them.

You looked up at him, hair slightly in your eyes. “You mean it?”

“Of course, love. I love you.”

“I love you, Joe.”

“Now, let’s go home. Maybe take a bath together and lay in bed and talk about our baby.”, he smirked.

“Don’t you have papers to grade?”, you laughed lightly, blinking the tears out of your eyes.

“They can wait.”

____________________________________________________________________________

After arriving home, Joe took it upon himself to run a bath for you. You sat on the bed, only in the robe he had bought for you to leave at his house. There were subtle signs you were at his house, him asking you to leave a few things to show you wanted to be there. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be there, but you weren’t used to feeling this way about someone and your last relationship wasn’t exactly a fairy tale or anything like your current one. 

“Hey babe! Bath’s ready!”, Joe called from the bathroom. 

You got off the bed easily, making your way into the bathroom to find Joe standing there completely naked already, wearing nothing but a smile on his face. Your mouth dropped easily, but you tried to fix your face quickly. The lights were off except for the candles he had lit. 

“Mind if I join?”, he breathed easily.

“No—not at all.”, you smiled back as he took you into his arms, beginning to kiss your neck softly as his hands wandered down to find your tie on the robe and began to undo it gently as you both shared soft kisses.

One thing about Joe was he made everything sensual and romantic and you loved that about him. He never failed to be romantic, even sending flowers anonymously to your dorm for your birthday. 

Once he undid the tie on your robe, he slid it off your shoulders and allowed it to fall to the ground, now leaving you completely naked. He pulled you flush against him, instantly feeling his hard-on against your thigh. 

“Ready for the bath?”, he whispered between kisses.

You nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to just forego it and move to the bedroom?”

He broke the kiss. “And miss a chance to bath with my sexy girlfriend? No chance.”

You smirked as he helped you over into the bathtub, you scooting to the front instinctively to allow him to get behind you. You closed your eyes as he slipped in the tub behind you, instantly pulling you against him. You felt his rock-hard cock press into your back as he began to pour water over your body, instantly making you sharply inhale and you felt your nipples growing hard from the contrast of the warm water and cold air. 

“Just relax, baby. Gonna take real good care of you.”

You hummed in response as you sank into him further. 

“It’s so sexy you’re carrying my baby.”, he breathed as he grabbed some bubbles, dumping them into the water. 

“Yeah?”, you breathed, closing your eyes.

“Oh yeah. Can’t wait until your belly grows and you get that cute little bump.”, he breathed as he kissed your neck. 

You laughed lightly in response. “So I can be fat?”

“No—you’re gonna look all cute and sexy carrying my baby. Gonna be hard to keep my hands off during class.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”, he confirmed as his thick, broad hands began to roam your chest, finding your breasts and cupping them with his hands.

“Are they still sore?”

“Not—as bad.”, you breathed.

“Mhmm….wanna rub them, play with them….”, he moaned softly into your ears, his breath tickling your ear, sending chills down your spine. “If that’s okay with you…..”

“Yeah….”, you hummed, relaxing further into into him while spreading your legs instinctively. 

“Already spreading your legs for me?”, he teased as he placed soft kisses on your neck.

His left hand left your left breast, cascading down your belly until it found your clit, his fingers instantly slipping inside. His right hand stayed on your right breast, kneading it while pinching your nipple with his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Is that what you wanted, love?”

You nodded breathlessly, humming. “Feels so good, Joe.”

“Because….”, he chuckled. “I know your body so well, don’t I baby?”

You nodded. “Mhmmm….so good.”

He chuckled as his fingers simultaneously worked inside your clit all while playing with your nipple twisting it and rubbing it just as he knew you loved it. You couldn’t hold back your pleasurable moan, feeling like you were on cloud nine. The rest of the world around you both didn’t matter. Nothing else matters to him except pleasuring you and worshipping your body. He loved you more than anything else in the world and he wanted a chance to prove it to you.

Before another moan could escape, his fingers left your clit abruptly causing you to whine at the loss of contact. 

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s still gonna feel really good….spread those legs a little more for me…..”

You did as he asked, feeling his fingers slip inside your wet slick, working in and out of your cunt causing a gasp to elicit from your lips. 

“Like that baby?”, he placed more kisses on you, continuing to multitask and doing a damn good job at it. 

You nodded, inhaling sharply. For once, everything else was melting away.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

His words sent chills down your spine, making your stomach twist into knots.

“Joe…..”

“You know, we still gotta make sure you pass. Gotta get you graduated before our baby comes.”, his hand moved from your breast, rubbing your belly softly. 

“Been doing good…..in all my classes…..”

“I know, baby. You have…..I’m very proud of you.”

You had to admit it made you all giddy and horny just to hear him praise you.

“Gonna be cutting it close……”, you breathed.

“About?”, he hummed.

“Graduation—keeping this baby in until then.”

He sighed softly. “You know what the doctor will recommend if you’ve not gone into labor, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Sex.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, seriously. I’ve been reading.”, he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling his finger diving deeper into your cunt. Your back arched as you let out a drawn-out sigh. 

“You’ve already—been reading about the baby?”

“Of course, I have. I mean—I do know a lot from being an anatomy professor and all, but when it’s your baby—there’s just something about that.”, he breathed before kissing your neck. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, he was excited about having a baby. The situation was going completely opposite of what you would have imagined it would have. He wanted this with you. He wanted to be a dad. 

“It’s really sexy that you want this. Can’t wait for you to be a dad.”

“Mhmmm, me too.”, he hummed, placing soft and slow kisses on your neck. 

You could feel your nipples harden at the rush of his touch. You sighed into him, the only sounds feeling the room were the subtle splashes of water as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He felt you spread your legs wider, giving into him. 

“You really want this, don’t you?”

“Yes.”, you moaned. 

“Right now?”, he breathed against your neck.

“Yes, please. Don’t—can’t wait.”, you swallowed hard.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t you want a bath, baby?”

“Just gonna be made a mess again.”

“Mhmm, want me to take you to bed and fuck you properly? Is that it?”, the speed of his fingers increasing.

You nodded, your plea drawn out. “Please.”

“Alright, love. Your wish is my command.”, he breathed as his fingers slid out just as fast as they had entered. 

You whimpered at the loss of his fingers inside of you. He easily stood up in the bathtub, getting out. You felt yourself fall back against the rim of the bathtub, taking him in. You bit your lip as you admired his perfect ass, his perfect broad shoulders. Your chest was heaving just at the sight in front of your eyes. He grabbed a towel, quickly getting most of the water off before grabbing another for you. He came over to the tub, smiling at you. 

“Ready love?”

You nodded before he kissed you deeply. He helped ease you out of the water as he wrapped the towel around your body. He held you in his arms, making you feel protected. You felt the cold air hit your body, shivers cascading down your body as your nipples hardened causing them to ache slightly. 

“Let’s go to bed, baby.”, he breathed as he kissed you softly and slowly. 

He picked you up easily, causing you to laugh before you wrapped your legs around his waist. Both of your lips crashed into one another, chaotic and full of desire. His hands slipped under your ass, not missing the chance to feel up on it. He somehow managed to grab the light switch on your all’s way out of the bathroom, flipping it off before ending up in his master bedroom. He had a very dim light just enough for you all to find your way to the bed. He eased you down on the bed, breaking the kiss.

Your hair was still wet but neither of you cared. Your towel loosened up, not leaving much to his imagination. His was long gone, still in the bathroom. His cologne mixed with his natural musk still managed to tickle your nose, causing your stomach to twist into knots. It wasn’t hard to imagine how you ended up pregnant in the first place. 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful.”, he smiled, brushing a piece of damp hair out of your face. 

“Whatever.”, you laughed easily, smiling up at him.

“No—I mean it.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, melting into his touch. Your towel was the only thing separating him from you. He leaned down, pressing his cock into your thigh as he kissed you softly and slowly. He was amazing at making love to you. He never failed to make you feel special.

“Mhmmm.”, you moaned, the taste of his lips and tongue mixing with yours.

His hands moved from your cheeks down your chest, grabbing where your towel was tucked together. He easily undone it, the towel falling on the bed, leaving you exposed.

“I’m surprised your sex drive is still high.”, his broad, thick fingers roaming your body.

“Ten weeks. I should be on the mend with the morning sickness and nausea, right?”

“Mhm, ideally. Ten weeks, your hormone levels usually will drop off meaning you’ll experience less fatigue and nausea.”

You kissed him, deepening the kiss. It was sexy to hear him talk about your body and the changes he knew was happening. It just did something to you.

“I feel a little better.”

“I can tell.”, he chuckled as you shared soft, slow kisses. 

“And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your tone was teasing, laced with eagerness. 

“Mhm, what do you want, baby? Don’t you want fucked?”

“I do.”, you moaned easily. “So bad.”

“That’s what I’ll do then. Gonna make you feel good—feel better. You deserve it.”, he breathed as he kissed down your neck and chest, sending chills all over.

“Why do I—deserve it?”, you gulped.

“You’re pregnant with my baby, you deserve to be spoiled, don’t you?”

You nodded as he placed one last kiss on your stomach, beginning to line himself up with your entrance. You could feel the tip of his cock brushing your entrance, causing you to close your eyes and swallow hard. It made you think back to all the times you all had made love—one of which you had ended up with your baby. You didn’t expect to get pregnant, even thinking taking a couple of pills late wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Of course you do.”, he agreed softly.

You smiled up at him, waiting for the moment he would enter you. It would be like a dream come true. It wasn’t just something you wanted—it was something you needed. He needed it just as badly as you did.

“Ready baby?”

“Please, Joe.”

That was all it took, giving him permission to take you. You felt the tip of his cock brush your entrance again before shoving deep inside of you, splitting you wide open. You hissed lightly before it turned into a moan, gripping the silk sheets on the bed. He groaned, ensuring he was as deep as he could be in your cunt. 

“So tight, baby. Feels—so good.”, he groaned, beginning to thrust inside of you.

“Yeah?”, you swallowed.

“Oh yeah, how does it feel for you baby?”

“Amazing.”

“Good, baby.”, he groaned as he pushed deep enough to hit your g-spot.

You could feel the hot aching twist in your stomach as your legs wrapped perfectly around his waist. It was clear this wasn’t the first time you all had done this, working together like a well-oiled machine. Your hands moved from the sheet to his chest, running your delicate fingers down. Having him inside of you was like heaven. Any intrusive thoughts from the day was melting away, you only being able to focus on him.

It was a relief, euphoria beginning to flood through your body. Like a dam breaking free. He took his time working in and out of you, making sure you were enjoying it as much as he was. Making love with him was one of your favorite things to do since getting together. He was intelligent—you loved to listen to him lecture even explaining things as you all had laid in bed while he graded papers by the light of his lamp. He was caring—always making sure you were okay. He could read you like an open book. He was hot—you thought back to all the times that you walked in class, taking a seat near the front of the room. It wasn’t hard to look at him while he lectured, matter of fact, it gave you an excuse to look.

You would jot down notes as you bit your lip, knowing deep down inside you’d do anything for a chance with him. Never once did you imagine you would actually get that chance. 

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yes, why?”, you moaned.

“Just checking, love. Wanna make sure you’re enjoying this and it’s feeling good for you.”

“Oh—it is.”, you moaned with a smile.

“Yeah?”, he hummed as he thrust deeper inside of you. 

“Yeah—feels so good, babe. You’re hitting it just right.”

He loved it when you praised him. It made him feel good. A smile spread across his lips as closed his eyes, giving into the euphoria. He didn’t want to keep his eyes closed too long, he was afraid he’d miss those seductive, alluring sex faces of yours.

“I’m glad, baby. So glad I can make you feel good—fucking your cunt just right.”

“Joe.”, you moaned easily, shivers cascading up your spine.

“What, love? Easy to see how you ended up pregnant, isn’t it?”

“Wasn’t—trying.”

“I know but it happened, didn’t it? And I’m so fucking happy that you’re having our baby.”

You couldn’t help but smile. It was a relief that he wanted to be in your life and be a dad. It ws all you’d ever wanted or imagined once you became pregnant. You just never imagined it would be this soon or with your professor. 

“Me—too.”, you gasped through thrusts.

“Mhmm can’t wait until you get that cute little bump. You’re gonna look so sexy.”

“Will—not.”

“Will—so.”, he grunted, thrusting deep inside. 

“Fuck—Joe.”

He felt your toes curling against his waist as your fingernails sank into his shoulders. He knew what this meant and he couldn’t wait. Your breathing hitched as you were barreling to your orgasm head-on. It felt like you were floating, the aching feeling in the pit of your stomach rising into your chest. Your moans were becoming louder as you begged him to fuck you—begged him for a release.

“Fuck, Joe. So—close. Make me cum, please—pretty please.”, you begged.

“Aw, baby you know you don’t have to beg.”, he breathed as he threw one leg over his shoulders, giving him more leverage and allowing him deeper penetration. 

You nodded, legs beginning to shake. “I—know.”

“This is all about you, baby.”

As if you needed reminding, your eyes rolling back in your head from the pleasure he was providing you. He wished he could stop time for just a second so he could revel in this moment. It was always his favorite during sex, the moment you would release and all his hard work would pay off. He didn’t mind working hard if that meant both of you came to a release. He loved being on top—dominating you. 

“Joe—I’m gonna cum—so close.”, you moaned out, back arching as you sank your fingernails further in his back causing him to groan in return.

“Fuck—cum, baby. Can’t wait to feel you all over my cock.”

You took a sharp inhale before the dam finally broke free. You let out a reverberant moan, gripping his shoulders as you felt yourself tighten around his cock, pulling him in. His lone curls were beginning to stick to his forehead which was damp with sweat. All the tension and anticipation that had built up was finally resolved. Your juices washed over his cock as he softened his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm high. 

“Oh—Joe….”, you moaned out pitifully, already spent from your orgasm.

He took a free hand, brushing your hair out of your face. “I know, baby. Let it out. You’re such a good girl.”, he cooed.

“Oh——”

Your right hand slid down his arm, rubbing over his hand. He knew what you wanted—he wasted no time in grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers in his. 

“That what you needed baby?”

He chuckled lightly as you nodded in response, another string of moans fell from your lips as he felt your body begin to relax underneath him. He was still thrusting inside of you. 

“Can I cum now?”, he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded while wearing a cock drunk smile on your face. “Yeah, I’d love that, babe.”

“Okay, baby. I’m gonna go a little faster, okay?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Okay, babe.”

He was on a mission. You were sensitive, each thrust intensified as he began to chase his orgasm. In your hazy state, you counted how many thrusts it took him before his release. One—two—three—four—.

“Fuck, here it comes, baby.”, he warned as his thrusts ceased almost immediately, a guttural groan coming from his throat. 

His fingertips sank in your hips, his hips stuttering as he kept himself buried inside of you. You felt his cock pumping his cum deep inside your cervix. A smile spread across your lips, thinking about how there was already a baby. His chest heaved, your legs still trembling. He tried to catch his breath as he let himself finish inside of you, making sure he didn’t pull out and deprive you of any of his seed. 

“How was it, baby? Feeling okay?”, he asked as you brushed his curls back. 

“Amazing—perfect, just what I needed. Thank you, babe.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips softly and tenderly before he pulled out easily, eliciting another whimper from you. 

“So sorry, love. Guess I could have let you cock-warmed me.”, he breathed as he collapsed in bed, pulling you towards him before grabbing the sheet and comforter and pulling it up and over you both. 

You shot up easily. “You know what cock-warming is?”

He chuckled lightly. “Just because I’m well educated doesn’t mean I don’t know the slang terms, love.”

He gave you a peck on the cheek, causing you to laugh. You snuggled into his warm arms, closing your eyes. You were beginning to get some of your energy back. Joe kissed your head before making sure you both were comfortable under the sheets—warm and protected. 

“What do you think the baby will be?”, you asked softly.

“Hmmmm,”, he pondered out loud. “A girl.”

He was already trying to doze off, voice become slow and soft. The voice that drove you crazy, you loved hearing it first thing in the morning. Your mind instantly began running, thinking of him holding the baby on his chest and kissing its head as he rubbed the baby’s back, kissing its head and telling the baby how much he loved it and how amazing it was that you gave him a baby of his own. It made your heart swell, and butterflies rise in your stomach. 

“A girl?”

“Mhmmm.”

“I think it’s going to be a boy.”

“I’ll be happy either way.”, he kissed your head.

“Me too. I love you, Joe.”

“I love you too Y/N, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

A few more weeks passed, a few more appointments came and gone. You were sixteen weeks and your pregnancy was becoming harder to hide. Joe was downstairs, making coffee. He had taken a few days off from teaching to spend some time with you. It was approaching Thanksgiving break, a chance for you all to spend some time together away from school. You had debated going home to see your parents, but they didn’t even know you were pregnant yet.

“Mhm there’s my baby.”, he smiled as he took you in his arms, placing his hand on your belly.

“Yeah.”, you smirked as you both shared a soft tender kiss.

Joe was counting down until the appointment where they told you what the baby was going to be. They were going to try at eighteen weeks if the baby cooperated. He was so excited he could barely contain himself. 

“So can we talk for a minute?”

You pulled away from Joe lightly. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, love. Just—mum and dad would like to fly in from London around May, near your due date so they can be here and see the baby once it’s born—if you’re okay with it.”

“You told your parents?”

“I did—have you not told your mum and dad?”

“Not yet—I was wanting to wait until I was around twenty weeks.”

“Gonna tell them your professor got you pregnant?”, he smirked lightly.

“Well—not sure.”, you smirked back easily. 

“Mhm, I see. So can I tell my parents that’s okay?”

“Yeah—did you tell them you got your student pregnant?”, you teased before sharing another kiss. 

He smirked as he parted from you, going over to grab you a cup of coffee. 

“Isn’t caffeine bad for the baby?”

“One cup will be okay.”, he rolled his eyes playfully. 

Even though it was November, there was the threat of a terrible snowstorm. It was expected to begin later this evening. You weren’t going to complain if you both got snowed in together. This time next year, there would be a baby to share it with. The holidays will be an even more joyous time and you couldn’t wait to have the baby’s first Christmas. You all were going to have a baby of your own, become a family. 

You didn’t know if you all would be married. You didn’t know what that part of your future was going to bring. But you were ready for it, you were ready to share it with him.

“I’m gonna go to the grocery store in case it snows and we’re stuck for a few days. I’m still not quite used to the snows here—London wasn’t quite like that.”, he chuckled lightly. 

“Alright.”

“Anything you or the baby wants?”, he smiled, rubbing your belly.

Your morning sickness had practically subsided. There were still moments of nausea but they often left almost as quickly as they had came. 

“Just some yogurt—blueberry specifically. And some macaroni and cheese—oh and pickles.”

“Pickles?”, Joe scrunched up his nose.

“That reminds me—ice cream too, please.”

“Flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

“Alright, love. If you think of anything else you or the baby wants, text me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He gave you another kiss before grabbing his keys, bending down to give your bump one last kiss. “Daddy will be back, baby.”

You watched Joe leave before making yourself a quick bowl of cereal and going to sit on the couch. Propping your feet up, you turned on the television as you attempted to find something to watch. It had become a habit for you to put your hand on your belly, rubbing it gently. It was a comfort thing—it was comforting for you both. You hoped anyway. Both you and Joe talked to the baby at night or in the evenings. He had read it was good for the baby in a book and he had been doing it ever since. It was cute, you had to admit.

Minding your own business while eating your cereal, you felt add odd feeling—one you had never felt before. You had read about it before or you think you had. You rubbed your hands over your belly again, feeling it with your own fingertips. It was the baby moving. Tears immediately came into your eyes and you instantly wished Joe would have been there, but it could have happened at any point. Wasting no time, you pulled out your cell phone and dialed his number immediately.

The line rang a few times before he finally picked up, you on the brink of crying. 

“Hey, love. Is everything okay? I’m trying to hurry.”

“Joe.”

“Yes?”

“The baby kicked.”

“What?”, he laughed, you knowing he had a smile on his face. 

“Yeah, I was eating some cereal and I felt the baby moving. I had to call you.”

“Record it. I wanna see it when I get home, please.”

“Okay.”, you laughed easily. “See you at home.”

“Alright, love. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You ended the call easily before turning your camera on, facing it on your growing belly. You pulled your pajama shirt up easily to reveal your belly. Staring at your belly, you waited for the baby to move again. Rubbing your belly, you attempted to coerce the baby to move. The baby waited a moment before beginning to move and kick again, causing a smile to spread across your face. It was hard to imagine you were having a real baby before when you just read a positive pregnancy test.

Seeing your baby on the first ultrasound made you realize this was really happening—you were really having a baby. Now, you were sixteen weeks pregnant. Your bump was bigger, finally giving a visualization that you were indeed growing a tiny human. In the video, you asked your little peanut to show Daddy how it could kick. The baby didn’t disappoint, giving a lot of good kicks and movement. You smirked, knowing Joe would adore this. He would be over the moon, just like he was any time he rubbed your bump or saw the baby through a doctor’s appointment. 

Caught up in the fact that you had finally felt your baby move, you didn’t notice when Joe pulled in or when the door opened, an arm full of bagged groceries in his hands. 

“Hey, love.”

“Hey, Joe.”

“Is the baby still kicking?”

“Yeah—showing off now.”, you smiled.

Joe brushed the snow off his peacoat as he slid his boots off and closed the door, heading straight for the kitchen. He sat the groceries on the table before coming back into the living room, quickly sliding off his peacoat and taking a seat beside you on the couch. 

“I’m guessing the snow started?”

“It did. It’s coming down hard and fast. I’m glad I went to the store. I got a few extra things for us in case it snows us in.”, he smiled as he leaned over, sharing a kiss with you.

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best. Wanna feel the baby?”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about driving home. Pretty sure I broke the speed limit a couple of times.”

He chuckled softly as you began giggling, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly. You moved it gently, trying to find exactly where the baby was kicking.

“Don’t get shy around Daddy.”, you told your bump, feeling slightly discouraged.

“You took a video, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “But I want you to feel the real thing.”

“Maybe the baby is sleeping. Mommy’s all relaxed and maybe the baby thought it was a good time for a nap—which you need to take too.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Joe. He had insisted on you taking naps after class and even between your classes, giving you a key to his place. He didn’t live far from campus and it was much more relaxing at his house than in the dorm rooms. You would admit that it felt good to get a nap in and it was nice that he was pitching in to cook dinner, pick up dinner, do the dishes, and do the laundry. And you were now even leaving clothes at his place. 

“I will after we put away groceries and I eat something else. Ugh, my cravings are so bad.”, you rolled your eyes again, still moving his hand in an effort to get the baby to kick. 

“Mhm, that’s normal. You’re eating for two.”

“Yeah and I’m gonna gain weight.”, you groaned.

“A pound a month is ideal. You lost in the beginning from morning sickness and nausea. It’s not going to kill you to eat what you want. You’re only gaining in your belly.”, he sighed. 

“It will kill me when I have big, ugly stretch marks.”

Joe sighed. “You’re still going to be beautiful and it’s just a reminder that you’re growing and nurturing our baby. You’ll still be the most beautiful and sexy woman I’ve ever met.”

You smiled at him easily before moving his hand in just the right spot, distracting from your conversation. You and Joe both gasped in excitement, a look of awe on both of your faces.

“Joe, did you feel it?” 

“I did. Daddy’s little peanut.”

You both had tears in your eyes as you looked at one another. Joe’s brown eyes were beaming—just like you knew they’d be. 

“I love you.”, he breathed.

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“Not possible.”, you argued back playfully.

He held his hand there, feeling the baby under his hand. It was the most magical feeling, one he never thought would happen. There were times he never imagined he would be a father and now, it was happening. He imagined he would be married ideally, but he wouldn’t change a thing. You giggled easily, making your belly shake as he moved his hand ever so slightly just to keep up with the baby. You smiled at him widely, him returning the same gesture. 

“Oh it is.”, he hummed before leaning in, sharing another slow and passionate kiss. 

“Can we put groceries away now? I’m starving.”, you eyed him. 

“I don’t even want to stop feeling for a second.”, he sighed.

“I know, babe. But you’ll have plenty of time to do it once I’ve ate something.”

He pouted playfully. “I know, love. What do you want to eat?”, he rubbed your belly easily, still feeling the baby move around under his hand.

“Ugh. A sandwich. Like with everything—ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup. And ice cream. With a pickle?”, you smiled nervously.

Joe’s nose crinkled up. “You hate mustard and pickles.”

“I know. I can’t help it. I’m craving it. Your baby is craving it.”

He laughed easily, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses. “I know. I’ll get it. Just relax and get comfy, baby. What did you want to drink?”

“A little caffeine….soda?”, you eyed him.

He smirked, teasing you. “Fine. I guess we can make an exception. I thought for dinner we could make baked ziti.” 

“Never had it, but it sounds good.”, you eyed him as you both stood up before he leaned down to kiss your bare bump, sending shivers and chills down your spine.

“I thought we were relaxing.”, he eyed you over his glasses, a true teacher look. “But baked ziti is similar to lasagna, but better.”

“I said I’d help you put groceries away.”, you sighed. “I’m just pregnant—not helpless.”, you eyed him.

“You need to relax. It’s cold—snowing. Perfect nap and cuddle weather. We could even go to the bedroom and cuddle if you’re more comfortable in bed. Watch Hallmark movies—isn’t that what you all do near Christmas?”

You eyed him before rolling your eyes. “Yeah, we like our cheesy, romantic Hallmark movies. And I guess that would be okay once I eat.”, you smirked.

Secretly, you both had an understanding that it would turn into more. ‘

“Alright and once you fall asleep—I’m getting up to make dinner.”

“You’d leave me? And our baby?”, you pouted, rubbing your bump as you both made your way into the kitchen.

He sighed as he began sitting the groceries out of the plastic bags, stuffing them under the sink. “Just to make an amazing dinner for you both.”

“Fine.”

You both laughed, sharing a kiss. Life was good—perfect practically. The only downside was still having to keep your all’s relationship a secret. It was getting harder, the closer you both grew to one another. This baby wasn’t making matter any easier. Tori still didn’t know you were pregnant as you were still able to hide it. Soon, you’d have to tell her but there was no way you were telling her who the baby’s father was. You watched Joe put away the groceries, you helped by handing him the items sitting on the table. 

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as he bent over, even his slacks showing his ass almost perfectly. It was one of your favorite things physically about him. He put the last of the groceries away before getting the ingredients out to make your sandwich. He seemed to notice that you had been staring at him, causing a smirk to spread across his lips as he began cutting the vegetables for your sandwich. 

“Enjoying the view?”, he teased.

“Maybe.”, you shrugged easily. 

He chuckled softly as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before going back to cut your vegetables. “Maybe you can enjoy it later top, hm? If you feel up to it.”

You smirked easily, feeling like a love-sick teenager. “I’d like to. As long as your baby cooperates.”

A smile spread across his lips as he laid the vegetables on top of your ham. “You’ve had a lot less nausea lately.”

“I know but it still happens—at night which is really weird.”

Joe laughed. “I know.”

He was finishing your sandwich, putting all the condiments on it before setting your drink beside it. You wasted no time in moving over to the countertop and grabbing your drink and sandwich, beginning to eat immediately. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took your first bite of the sandwich, feeling like you hadn’t eaten in days. These pregnancy hormones were taking a toll on you but it would all be worth it for this baby. 

“Does it taste good?”

You nodded, humming in agreement. “Mhm, you did amazing babe.”

Joe came over and kissed your head. “Glad I could make you happy.”

“More than happy.”

Joe smiled as you ate your sandwich, finishing it almost as quickly as he made it before chasing it down with your soda. You both smiled at one another before Joe went back over to the freezer pulling out your ice cream and a pickle—just like you had asked. He tried to suppress his slight disgust as he brought it over to the kitchen table, sitting it down in front of you.

“Thanks, babe. After this we’re going to cuddle in bed and watch Hallmark, right?”

He nodded as he sat down at the table beside you, eager to feel your belly again. You giggled as his hands found it again. 

“We’ll watch your Hallmark movies and cuddle.”, he reaffirmed. 

You all shared another kiss before you dug into your ice cream and pickle, not taking very long to scarf it down either. You got up, rinsing out your bowl before grabbing a glass of water to take to the bedroom. You couldn’t help but look out the window, seeing the snow falling. It was a thick, heavy snow that was quickly coating the ground and everything else in its path. 

“It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?”, Joe asked coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yeah.”

“I think I’ll kick on the fireplace. And don’t worry, it’s propane, not actual logs.”, he smirked as he pecked your cheek.

You smirked softly. “Want hot chocolate or something?”

“I’ll just take tea. I need to try to stay awake and grade papers.”, he sighed. “Before dinner or the power goes out.”

You nodded easily, remembering exactly how he liked his tea.

“Shouldn’t I be waiting on my pregnant girlfriend?”

“I am perfectly capable of making you tea and myself hot chocolate.”, you glared back at him. 

“Okay, love.”

You went back to hit, boiling water on the stove as you worked on your hot chocolate. Once the water was hot enough, you pulled it off the stove and poured it into a teacup, careful to add the tea satchel. 

“Be careful with the hot water, love.”

“I will.”

He eased off slightly, trying not to be too overbearing. He knew he was worried, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never had a healthy stable relationship much less an unborn baby he had to worry about. He knew you were doing everything right in your pregnancy. You were going to the doctor like you were supposed to but he still was waiting for the other shoe to fall. When was something going to go wrong? The thought alone terrified him. What would he do if something happened to you and the baby? He tried not to focus on that.

You brought him out of his daydream but handing him his cup of tea with a smile on your face. 

“Thanks, baby.”

“I think I’m ready for a nap.”, you yawned as you stretched your arms. “Is it bad I’m still in my pajamas?”

Joe laughed. “No, it’s not bad. You deserve it."

He offered to carry your hot chocolate as you both made your way into the bedroom. It was dark except for the fireplace that he had lit. It was warm but not too hot—just cozy. 

“Soon we won’t be able to do this.”, you sighed as you sat down on the edge of the bed before climbing in it.

“I know. We can—it just won’t be exactly the same. We’ll have a baby.”

You nodded easily as Joe undressed down to his boxers, climbed in bed with you, took you in his arms, and pulled the sheet and comforter over you both before kissing your head. 

“Goodbye sleep.”, you smirked.

“I’ll help you and get up with the baby. You won’t do this all alone. We haven’t really talked about this—but are you planning on breastfeeding or using formula?”

You sighed, closing your eyes as he changed the television over to the Hallmark channel, your tiredness already hitting you full force. “I want to breastfeed.”

He nodded. “Okay, love. Sounds good. We’re gonna have to find you a breast pump. Best of the best.”

You smirked before grimacing slightly. “The baby is moving now.”, you groaned easily, turning over in bed towards Joe, trying to get comfortable.

“Maybe the caffeine and ice cream woke her up.”

“Her?”, you smirked.

“I’m thinking it’s a little girl.”

“It could be a he.”, you laughed before Joe kissed you again, brushing your hair out of your face. He knew you would fall asleep soon. 

“Either way, I’m going to love it with everything in me.”, Joe smiled as he placed his hand on your belly, rubbing it and lulling you off to sleep. 

“Me too. I love you, Joe.”, you smiled softly, voice slurring as you were already dozing off.

“I love you, baby.”, he breathed, leaning down to kiss you again before you dozed off. 

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed. You turned over in bed, stretching and attempting to find the alarm clock. It was five in the evening according to the bold, bright red numbers. You immediately turned to look for Joe but he was gone, his papers laid out on the bedside table with his red pen on top of them. His teacup was gone, and the Hallmark movies continued to play on a loop. You sat up easily, feeling like you smelled food. Did you smell food or were you going crazy? You definitely felt hungry again. 

Stretching, you pulled the covers back and got out of bed. Soon, you’ll have to buy some more clothes. Your belly wasn’t going to get any smaller. Most of your jeans didn’t fit. You opened the bedroom door and sniffed. It was definitely food. Joe had to be in the kitchen. You held your belly as you made it to the kitchen, seeing him turned away from you and being fully focused on cooking. He bent over, checking the oven and making sure he wasn’t burning the baked ziti…that’s what he was making if you remembered correctly.

He was dressed in his pajama pants, opting to match you and give up his dress clothes. It was such a shock to see him in more casual and comfortable clothes—still. He must have felt your presence because he turned around almost immediately. 

“Hey, love. Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I ended up dozing off with you for like an hour before I woke up. I got a few papers graded and then I came down here and started dinner. It’s almost done.” 

You nodded easily. “How’s the weather?”

“Bad. They said on the news we’re under a state of emergency now. They advised everyone to charge their phones and all that stuff because they said there would be a lot of power outages. I lit the fireplace in the living room as well.” 

Your eyes widened easily before nodding. “Yeah, I think mine is at a hundred percent.”

“Said flights would be delayed for the holidays.”, he added as he turned around back to make the salad. 

Joe was an avid news and weather watcher, something he said he had learned to do since moving to the States. You watched Joe toss the salad before setting it to the side. His phone timer went off, prompting him to pull the ziti from the oven. The warm smell hit your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut. Man, this baby was making you hungry. You felt like you were starving and hadn’t eaten in days but it had just been a few hours. 

“Really? Glad we aren’t traveling.”

“Yeah—my mom and dad had wanted to come see me but they saw the predicted weather and changed their minds.”, he smirked, looking back at you.

Your heart practically dropped into your stomach. “You were going to let them?”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah, but you aren’t super pregnant yet. I was going to ease them into our relationship then tell them about the baby a little later.”

“Oh.”, you nodded.

You didn’t know what it was but something made you very nervous when it came to the idea of meeting Joe’s parents and telling them you’re pregnant. You even wondered if you all were moving things way too quickly. 

“Maybe when we find out the gender.”

“In two weeks hopefully.”, you sat down at the table, rubbing your belly. 

“Mhm, sure hope so. We could have done the blood test.”, he teased. 

“But I worry those aren’t totally accurate.”

“True. But some ultrasound techs still get it wrong.”

You rolled your eyes before they panned to several candles adorning the table and you imagined they were there for the possibility that the electricity was going to go out while you all ate dinner. 

“Here you go, love. Baked ziti and a salad. What dressing do you want and what to drink?”, he kissed your cheek. 

“Um, ranch and some water.”

“Okay, love.”

He grabbed the ranch and some water from the fridge, setting it down in front of you. He kissed your cheek again before feeling your belly. 

“I hope you enjoy dinner.”

“Oh I’m sure I will—I’m starving. This kid is making me hungry all the time.”

Joe smirked before kissing your cheek again, going to fix his own plate. “It’s all the hormones and growing a tiny human. Completely normal, love.”

He came over to join you at the table, setting his plates down and grabbing some soda from the fridge. He poured himself a drink, and began to eat. You felt like a ravenous animal, stuffing your face. You all made small talk, talking about what gender you thought the baby would be and throwing around a few names. Joe was still very adamant it was going to be a little girl while you were sure it was going to be a little boy. Just thinking about a little boy, who was identical to Joe running around made your heart melt. He had the dominant features—especially his brown eyes.

“You’ve never shown me pictures of you as a baby.”, you stirred in your ziti before stabbing some with a fork. 

Joe stopped mid-bite. “Neither have you.”

“All mine are at home.” 

“Most of mine are with Mom. I brought a few with me. But I know we’re going to make a cute baby.”

“I wanna see them.”

“Okay, I’ll dig them out after dinner.”

All of a sudden, the lights flickered before going completely out, leaving you and Joe only in candlelight. 

“Or maybe when the power comes back on.”, he cleared his throat.

“It’s so dark.”

“It’s okay, love. I’ll go upstairs after dinner and grab some pillows and blankets and we can sleep down here if you want.”

“Okay.”

“Will you be comfortable enough? I know you get a little uncomfortable at night.”

“I’ll make it. We are going to have to invest in a pregnancy pillow for me. Please.”

“I will get you one as soon as the weather clears up, I promise. If you need something, tell me.”, his eyes darkened as if there was some undertone. 

“Anything?”

“Of course, love. I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“Okay.”, you smiled as you sipped your water, already thinking of an idea in your head. 

You all finished up dinner, Joe clearing the plates and cups before putting the leftovers away and putting the dirty dishes in the sink. He said he’d wash them tomorrow when the power would hopefully be restored. You asked him to get your gown and bring it down when he brought everything else but you couldn’t help to sit on the couch and have your stomach twist and turn in desire. That was something else they never told you when you got pregnant—sometimes you’d want to avoid sex and cuddle but then most of the time (in your case), you wanted sex. 

The noise of Joe coming down the stairs grabbed your attention, seeing him with several pillows and blankets in his arms, almost obscuring his view. You noticed your gown was on top before he sat everything down on the couch. 

“You sure you’ll be okay, love? I worry about you.”

“I’ll be fine for one night, I promise. If not—I can always move to the couch.”

Joe nodded. “Okay, love.”

You both shared a kiss before Joe began spreading the blankets out and placing the pillows just so-so. You watched him—the ways his arms flexed as he bent down and fixed the blankets and his soft grunts as he made sure they were just right causing you to bite your lips and shift from your spot on the couch, eventually causing you to stand up and slip off your pajamas and change into your gown which made your baby bump look that much more prominent. Joe smoothed the bottom blanket out before adding the top one. He was definitely going to make sure you all were warm and as comfortable as he could. 

“Okay, love. How’s that?”

“Great.”, you smiled softly as he turned around, quick to notice you had changed.

His eyes panned up and down your body.

“Like it?”, you smirked.

“Love it. You look more pregnant.”

“I know.”, you began, rubbing your belly. “Soon I’m not gonna be able to hide my bump.”

“Mhm, it’ll be okay.”, he breathed as he took you into his arms.

You took a deep breath as you inhaled his scent. You didn’t know if it was the hormones or something else but you craved his scent. His pheromones were much stronger, mixed with the hint of his Dior cologne.

“Joe?”

“Yes, love?”

“Did you really mean it earlier when you said you’d do anything for me?”

“Mhm, do you need something love?”

“Um,”, you cleared your throat as he pulled back easily to look at your face before brushing your hair to the side all while looking deep into your eyes with concern and care. “Actually I do.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “And what’s that, love? What do you need?”

“Um,”, you laughed from embarrassment lightly. “I feel like I really—need…”

Your mouth was going dry.

“Need what, love?”

“Um, sex.”

“Sex?”, his eyes widened as he repeated the word. 

You nodded softly. “You can say no.”

“And what if I don’t want to say no?”, he spoke barely above a whisper.

“I’d be really happy.”

He smirked. “And what a shame—you just put this gown on.”

“I know, but it’ll look better on the floor, won’t it?”

Joe hummed in satisfaction, already feeling his cock growing hard. “It would.”

You smirked as you reached down, grabbing the hem of the gown and lifting it up and over your head. It left you almost totally exposed, leaving your panties on. Joe took a deep inhale, taking in your body. Sure, it was changing a little but he still loved you and thought you were the most beautiful and sexy girl he’d ever seen. You bit your lip shyly as you looked up at him.

“God, you’re so sexy.”, he breathed. 

“Am not.”

“Are so.” 

“Your breasts have grown a bit.”, Joe commented as he took them in his hands, watching for your reaction.

Your breathing hitched as you closed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain and sensitivity to hit, but it didn’t. Not too much, anyway. It wasn’t unbearable. 

“Yeah—think I may need a new bra soon.”, you sighed.

“I’ll give you some money to go shopping.”

“No, you don’t have to.”, you eyed him.

“I can and I will. It’s all my fault things are getting tight, isn’t it?”, he chuckled. 

You bit back a moan. “Kinda….”

He nodded. “See? And when we find out what our baby is gonna be, we can go shopping for her.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re stuck on a little girl.” 

“I am.”, he smirked as he flicked your nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“And what are you gonna do if it’s a little boy?”

“Love him just the same. But it’s gonna be my little girl.”

“We’ll see.”

“We will.”, he hummed as you let out a moan, desperate for more. 

You needed him in so many more ways than one.

“Joe, please.”

“Please what, love?”, he kissed your neck, fighting the urge to sink his teeth in your neck and leave a hickey. 

It would be gone before school started back.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry?”

He just wanted to hear you say it again.

“Fuck—me. Please.”, you repeated.

His breathing hitched as he felt his cock twitch under his pants. “Not without a little foreplay first, right?”

“Right.”, you agreed.

This was almost a wet dream. His hands left your breasts causing you to moan lightly as you went for his pajama pants, pulling them down. He swallowed hard as you came back up, grabbing the hem of his boxers and flashing him a seductive smile. You jerked them down quickly, allowing his cock to spring free. He moaned out loudly, closing his eyes as he felt his cock twitch, waiting for you to touch it or put it in your mouth. He wasn’t picky. He just wanted you—however you wanted it.

A smile spread across your lips, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. It was sexy that you got him that hot and bothered. You grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, and tossing it to the floor before he gently pushed you against the wall, beginning to kiss you.

“How—do—you—want it?”, he breathed between kisses. 

“Missionary?”

“You’re so vanilla, aren’t you, love?”, he teased playfully. 

“What’s wrong with vanilla?”

“Nothing—nothing at all.”

“I mean we could do more—just I really want missionary.”, you breathed.

“Okay, love. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He picked you up, causing you to gasp before taking you over to his little pillow and blanket bed he had made in front of the fireplace, softly laying you down on the pillows. You gently pulled a blanket over yourself just enough to cover your breasts and cunt, leaving little to the imagination. Most of your belly and thighs were exposed. The only light was from the fireplace, the rest of the house completely dark. He began kissing you, pressing himself down on top of the blanket, and making you feel his cock through the blanket. It was so hard and you knew it was just for you.

“Fuck, just look at you.”, he breathed as his hand ran down your leg.

You smirked. “How bad do you want me?”

“So bad—do you want anything else?”, he breathed.

“Like?”

“Want me to eat you out?”

Your breathing hitched. “You wanna?”

“Of course, I do. I want anything you do, love.”

“If you want to, I’d like it.”, you breathed, feeling your cheeks turning red but you were unsure whether it was from embarrassment or how warm the fire was.

“Mhm, okay love. Spread your legs for me. Wanna see how wet you already are for me.”

“Okay.”, you breathed as he moved the blanket slightly to the side, dipping his head between your thighs.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers down your slick causing you to moan lightly while arching your back. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re soaked for me.”

“Can’t help it. Really horny.”, you breathed.

“I love it.”, he hummed as he pulled his fingers out almost as quickly as he had inserted them before bringing them to his mouth and sticking them inside, licking them off like a sucker. You couldn’t help but watch him, your chest heaving up and down. You bit your lip as he sucked off every last bit of you from his fingers. 

“God, I want more.”

“Then take it.”

He leaned down to kiss you, allowing you to lightly taste yourself. You ran your hands through his thick, curly hair. You were the perfect mix of salty and sweet, realizing why he liked it so much. 

“Are you sure?”

He broke the kiss to look deep in your eyes, brushing your hair back gently with his fingers as a small smile spread across his lips.

“Uh-huh.”, you shifted easily, feeling the aching feeling in your core increase. 

“Okay, love. Anything you want.”

He shifted to the floor, focusing his attention down south. He easily spread your legs, getting a perfect view of your cunt. He took a deep breath, yearning to be inside of you. You smiled up at him easily, the blanket barely covering your core. If he was being honest, he loved this view and he couldn’t wait to wreck you. It was amazing that he was going to have you all to himself. It was something he was still trying to wrap his head around. 

As he was positioning himself, he noticed you shift easily and take a deep breath.

“Everything okay, love?”

“Fine. Just a little nervous.”

“Nervous of what?”

“I don’t know—it won’t be that great.”

Joe’s face crinkled slightly in confusion. “What do you mean, love?” 

“I just mean—what if I don’t smell or taste good.”, you swallowed hard, saying it out loud only intensifying your fear further. 

“Love, it’s amazing.”, Joe reassured as he rubbed your inner thigh before placing a gentle kiss on it.

“Are you sure?”

You knew you didn’t taste bad—but your hormones were acting up again. There was a fear that he would find someone else, moving on to a new piece of ass. You had nightmares about it daily but chose not to discuss them with him, afraid he would find them annoying or agitating. 

“I’m absolutely sure, love. It’s amazing and it drives me crazy. Makes me want to fuck you even worse.”, he smirked.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready now, love?”

You nodded easily, trying to put your fears and concerns on the back burner. You did your best to try and shift, relaxing your body and attempting to relax your mind. You felt his breath between your thighs. Without further warning, you felt his tongue take a long, slow swipe between your slick, wet folds causing your back to arch and your breathing to hitch. He noticed, his brown eyes looking up at you.

“Does it feel good?”, he hummed against you.

“So—good.”, you moaned softly.

He chuckled against you, continuing to work his tongue in and out of your slick folds. You were doing your best to focus on the euphoria that was engulfing you. His grip on your thighs tightened, making sure to keep you close to him. This was one of Joe’s favorite things to do to you.

Interrupting your thoughts again, you felt his tongue once again swipe between your wet slit, eliciting a moan from you. You could tell this pleased Joe. You parted your legs as far apart as they’d go, allowing him full access to you. You eyed him, resting your head on the pillows he had used in this makeshift bed. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible while he fucked you with his tongue and cock, soon enough. 

“Fu-fuck, Joe.”, you moaned, grabbing the blanket on top of you.

His lips curved into a smile again, pulling away from you just for a moment. “Do you like my mouth, baby?”

You nodded feverishly as if you were silently begging him to continue. He teased you, just enough to feel his breath once again on your clit. 

“Words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t stop—please.”

“Good girl.”, he praised as he moved his mouth back to your folds, flicking his tongue over your folds. 

Your eyes rolled back easily, this already blowing your mind. Joseph easily took his hands, moving your legs up to his shoulders, allowing him more leverage. It was hot. So very hot. Was it the fireplace or the chemistry between you both? Your hands continued to grip the blanket with each flick and swipe of his tongue, you not being able to hold back your feral moans. 

You couldn’t wait any longer before you decided you needed something else to sink your fingers into. You eyed Joe’s curls hazily, your brain already turning to mush. You lifted your gripped hands from the blanket before brushing them through Joseph’s hair. What you did next slightly caught him by surprise. You tugged at his curls, causing him to moan, sending vibrations all over your cunt and throughout your heat. His fingers dug deeper into your thighs. The sounds filling the room were those that reminded you how wet you were.

Another sensation struck you suddenly—his beard.

You could feel the tickle of his stubble rubbing against your sensitive, throbbing clit. His stubble brushed against your clit as he moved his face, fucking you with his tongue. Joseph was well aware of what he was doing, his stubble dragging against your skin eliciting moans of pleasure from you. He was being so dirty and you loved it. 

Joe’s tongue was fucking you the right way in all the right places, and you beginning to feel your high take over. It wasn’t taking very much from him with his stubble and motions of his tongue to bring you close to your release. Joe felt pride at this, considering it an accomplishment he was going to make you cum this easy. You could feel the building hot, twisting, ache in your stomach signifying your impending orgasm was near.

“Joe—”, you moaned out, mewling under his tongue.

“Hmm?”, he hummed against you.

“I’m gonna—cum.”, you choked, feeling the intensity increase. 

He pulled away from your dripping cunt just for a moment, another whimper escaping from you for the lack of his tongue buried in you. “Cum for me, baby. I wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

His tongue went back to its dastardly deeds and that was all it took to send you over the edge.

“I’m cum—cumming.”, you moaned out as you gripped your fingers in his curls, tugging slightly.

He ceased working his tongue, allowing you to have your orgasm for just a moment before he stuck his tongue back in you, he was going to give himself the pleasure of tasting your sweet juices. Considering he was the one who worked so hard for it. Your toes were curled near his head, your vision going blurry as you cried out, feeling your cunt tighten around his tongue, releasing your juices. 

Your chest heaved up and down as he lapped at you, smothering himself in your cunt to get that final taste. Once he was content, Joseph pulled away and looked up at you, feeling his breath against your core once more. Joseph was usually a man of composure and class, however, how he looked right now made him that much more irresistible. He looked so feral and lustful, craving you. 

He wasn’t breaking his eye contact with you as you noticed his beard glisten in the low light with the coating from your juices. You swallowed hard at the sight. He ran his tongue over his lips and upper stubble from his beard, tasting the remainder of you from tongue fucking you. A small moan escaped you taking in the sight of this. Now, you need him more than ever. 

“Joe.”, you sighed.

“Yes, love?”

“Can you please fuck me? Please put your cock inside of me?”

Joe wore a shocked expression at the use of your candid language. “Love, you’ve barely recovered from my tongue.”

“Don’t care—need you inside of me—please.”, you begged, swallowing hard.

“You know you don’t have to beg, love.”

You nodded softly as he cupped your cheek. He gave you a soft kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hard cock already brushing your slick. 

“Are you sure you’re ready, love?”

“Please—never been more ready.”, your eyes fluttered shut, preparing yourself for him.

“Okay, love. Wanna hold my hand while we do it? Makes us feel closer.”, he breathed.

You nodded softly again, reaching your trembling hand out. It didn’t matter how long you all had been together, you still got nervous at times. But he always reassured you.

He took your hand, threading his fingers in between yours. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile curved on your lips. “Promise?”

“Always.”, he smirked with a soft chuckle. 

You smiled up at him, eyes becoming slightly watery. It was the damn hormones again, wasn’t it? He leaned down and shared another kiss with you before lining himself up with you and entering you, causing you to gasp lightly. 

“Sorry, baby. You’re so tight—even after fingering you and eating you out.”

His face was full of concern, he hated hurting you just for a second—even if it would turn pleasurable for you. 

“It’s—it’s okay, babe.”

He watched you, still holding your hand as he began to thrust deep inside of you. His rhythm started off slow in an attempt to give you time to adjust. He saw you take a deep breath as he grunted softly, rutting himself inside of you. 

“Feeling better?”, he asked softly.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“I swear I’d put a baby in you if I hadn’t already.”, he groaned.

Your eyes flew open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah—so happy you’re having my baby.”

You smirked before moaning softly as he hit the right spot that made you see stars. The thought that had entered your mind left as quickly as it came.

“God, just looking at you right now drives me mad.”, his eyes rolled back in his head as he continued to thrust into you, the sound of his balls smacking against you filling the room.

You would have never in your wildest dreams imagined being in this position with your professor—who was now your boyfriend. It was like a dream come true. You smiled up at him, clearly cock drunk right now. 

“Mhm feels—so good, Joe.”, you moaned softly, his grip tightening on your hand.

“So glad, baby. Love taking—care of you.”, he groaned.

His thrust continued, steady and he slightly began picking up the pace as he closed his eyes, throwing his head back lightly. 

“Joe….”, you hiccuped easily.

“Yes, love?”

“I think I’m gonna cum…..”

“Cum for me—cum all over my cock, baby. Can’t wait to fill you full.”

You were climbing the high of your orgasm, not able to focus on anything but that. Your brain was focused on his movements, feeling him deep inside of you. You closed your eyes, drowning out any other care in the world. You took your free arm, rubbing it up and down his arm—anything to hold onto. 

“Joe…..”, you moaned out.

“Yes, love?”, he breathed.

“Gonna cum—right now.”, you moaned as you instantly felt yourself tighten around him, juices spilling over his cock. 

Your eyes shot open, his eyes closed as he reveled in the feeling of you releasing. His job was done, he had done what he wanted to do. 

“Fuck—cum baby, cum all over my cock. Feels so good.”, he hummed as his rhythm slowed, giving you time to work through your orgasm.

He wanted to help you ride it out, he always did. You sank your fingernails in his hand as you moaned, the final waves of your orgasm hitting. Lightheadedness took over at this point, you felt the heat of your orgasm wash over your entire body. Every sensation, every time he fucked himself into you was so much more intense now causing you to whimper. He smirked, watching you come down off your high. Your chest was heaving, visibly trying to recover a little before he came.

You felt his cock twitch and pulse, a reaction from your orgasm. He could tell you were soaked—utterly soaked. He could feel your juices all over his curls at the base of him.

“Ready for me to cum, love?”, he breathed.

“Please.”, your mouth was dry.

He mentally counted how many thrusts it took after you came. One. Two. Three. His thrusts ceased immediately as he released the loudest groan he had of the night. His fingertips sank into your hand this time, his hips stuttering, keeping himself buried inside of you as deep as he could. You felt his cock pumping his cum deep into your cunt, careful to keep himself there and make sure none of it was missed. You both smiled at each other, beginning to laugh lightly. 

“How was that, love?”

“So good, Joe. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love. Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable on the floor?”

“I’m gonna be fine. Just come cuddle me.”, you flashed him the puppy dog eyes that you knew he couldn’t resist. 

He smiled as he fell beside of you, a little of his seed spilling out on your thigh but you didn’t care. All that mattered was him being with you. He kissed you again before pulling you close to him, covering you both up with the huge blanket and a few smaller ones. Without contemplation, he held your bump before rubbing his hand over it easily. 

“She’s being quiet.”, he smirked.

“Maybe he’s asleep now.”, you looked back at Joe with a smirk on your face.

“After all that, it would be hard.”, he laughed. 

Suddenly, you both felt the baby move, kicking Joe’s hand easily. You smiled back at him again before you both shared a kiss. 

“Now, get the baby to settle down and sleep, please.”

“On it.”, he kissed you again before you both cuddled up together, your back facing his and feeling his cock resting against your ass. 

You snuggled into your pillows, closing your eyes as he rubbed your bump and attempted to lull both you and the baby to sleep. It must have worked at some point. You only woke up once, his arm wrapped around your waist while hearing him snore causing you to smirk before you dozed right back off to sleep. You were both trying to enjoy sleep before the baby came, but it was a good trade-off. Getting a new baby that was part of you both and losing a little sleep—it’d be worth it. 

#eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joseph x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Father

Christian Yu/Mito x Y/N - drabble - 880 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: none lol this is pure fluff, pregnancy

---------------------------

You laid on the couch watching your stomach move. Your little one growing inside you was getting increasingly more active and you loved watching them move around. You heard the front door open and close and the rustling of plastic bags. 

“Love?” Christian called out to you.

You raised your hand and waved so he could see you, “Here!” you said.

He walked over, smiling at you when he saw you. “I got the goods!” he beamed at you as he sat down, unpacking the food he brought home.

“Yesssss…” you cheered as you saw the ramen he brought home. You had been craving it all morning so he slipped out between working on his new music to grab it for you both. You tried to sit up, rocking slightly before plopping back down and reaching your hands towards Christian. “Help.” you said as you made grabby hands at him. 

He chuckled, setting the utensils down on the table and helping you sit up. He kissed your cheek, “How are they?” he asked as his large hand gently ghosted over your exposed stomach.

“Active,” you chuckled. “I feel like I’m growing an alien now that I can see them moving around.”

Christian laughed as he handed you your bowl of ramen, you rested the warm bowl on top of your bump as you started eating. Christian smiled at you, he loved how you glowed. Happy and filled with the life you created out of love. You both decided to not know the gender until they were born but whatever they were he loved them to death already. 

You moaned at the taste of the ramen, the warm broth hitting your stomach making the baby kick repeatedly. You snatched Christian’s hand, holding it to your belly. He loved feeling them move around. “That’s definitely my child, little ramen lover.” he chuckled. You kissed his knuckles before letting him go so you could both eat. You turned on the TV, flipping on a random movie. You both ate in a comfortable silence; once you finished you stretched your arms above your head, letting out a yawn. You rubbed your eyes before cuddling up to Christian, resting your head on his chest. He played with your locks, lulling you to sleep. He smiled down at you when he heard your soft snores. 

You grunted when the baby gave you a particularly hard kick, so hard Christian could see it through your shirt. “Hey, you be nice!” he whispered to your belly. He shifted softly, picking you up and carrying you to your shared bed. He laid you down, positioning your pregnancy pillow just the way you liked and putting a pillow under your feet so your swollen ankles could rest before he pulled the covers over you. He kissed your forehead before quietly shutting the door and going back to the living room and tidying up. He made his way to his home studio to finish what he had started that morning. 

-----------------------------------------------

You woke up due to a wave of nausea. You groaned, laying still and waiting for it to pass. After a moment it did, you pushed yourself up to look for Christian. The sun was setting, you must have slept the rest of the day away. You shuffled around the apartment, checking each room for him. Finally, you found him sitting on the balcony, watching the sunset slowly dip behind the cityline. 

You slid the glass door open, “Hey baby.” you softly said to him. 

He looked at you, a certain sadness in his eyes that you recognized immediately. “Hello.” Mito replied. 

You slowly made your way to sit with him, he helped you down with a protective and strong arm wrapping around you to ensure you made it to the ground gently. He kept his arms around you, drawing you into his chest. You kept your head tilted up, looking at him. “What troubles you my love?”

He let out a long sigh, as if he had been holding it in for ages. “I’m just… what if…” he stumbled.

You kept your eyes on him, encouraging him to continue. 

“What if I’m not a good father…” he whispered, finally connecting his eyes with yours. 

Your eyes widened slightly before you sat up a bit in his embrace. You moved his hand to your stomach, he instantly rubbed over it gently. “We made them. We made them out of love. How could you be anything less than perfect for that?”

His lips twitched upwards for a split second, “What if they don’t like me?” he asked.

“Of course they will love you. I do. Think of how well you have taken care of them this whole time and they aren’t even here yet!” You smiled at him with every bit of sincerity you could possibly have. “Mito, they will love you, you’re going to be a wonderful father. It’s you and me honey, we can do anything together.” You kissed him slowly putting all your passion for him into the kiss. He cradled your face, kissing you back. 

“I love you. Both of you.” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

“And we love you.” you pecked his lips again. 

You both watched the sunset and the stars begin to shine.

----------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hey! This was based off a request so I hope everyone likes it :) thank you for reading, comments motivate me ton. XOXOXOXO!!!!!

#dpr ian #christian yu #mito #fanfic writing #dpr live #dpr ian x reader

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

Sensory Prompt: 20 (Reflections in Glass), Buck and Bucky

(4&38)

(for @jakes3resin - its been in the drafts for a couple of weeks, since the first time you floated the idea)

“Jesus, Buck.” 

The sounds of a quiet sigh and the rustling of pressed uniform tickles Gale’s ears as he struggles to pick up his head from the bowl of his folded arms.

Slow as molasses, he opens his eyes with the window in his line of sight. It’s early - or so late that it’s early. The world outside is a still-life painting of sleeping high rise buildings, all covered under the shadows of the blue-black darkness of twilight. His own reflection in the window watched him right back, sunken tired eyes and all.  

He blinks hard, once, then deflates. 

In the semi-darkness of a city nightscape, Gale finds himself on the floor and folded nearly in half, back curved like a bow with his folded arms resting on the low coffee table in front of the window. His back aches, his legs numb, and his neck protests as he pushes himself away from the coffee table and slumps against the side of the hotel bed. At least the carpet is lush, he muses, hands rubbing and grabbing the fibers. 

He stares blankly at his reflection in the window, seeing without truly seeing the sleeping city beyond the glass panes. He sits in the quiet like a sentinel. 

Waiting.  

“Buck.” 

Another sigh, this time exasperated, bounces in the silence of this magic hour. Gale closes his eyes for half a second. Fear and resignation stir and fall into a familiar dance in him. Gale hears the familiar sounds again - the whispers of a starched uniform fold and give with every movement. His eyes falls from his reflection in the darkened window to right hand, studying the way the carpet peeks between the valleys of his fingers. 

“Buck come on, man.”

Only a little reluctantly did Gale lift his eyes from the carpet to the darkened window. He watches as a familiar figure bleeds into existence in the window, like a drop of color in a glass of water. Gale sees a man crouching beside him with his elbows resting on his knees, his handsome side profile tarnished only by the slight displeased pout of his lips.

Gale hums in acknowledgement. He is too tired to shake off this daydream, too wrung out to pretend that he does not welcome his specter, too empty to pretend that he doesn’t want to fall into its arms and follow it into the dark.

“I’ve never been more glad than I am now that you don’t drink - I’ll never complain about that ever again, hand to God.” 

He watches his specter rub its fingers over the prolific mustache - a gesture he has seen thousands of times in their short lifetime together. Gale feels the warmth of unshed tears starts to build and nausea climbs up his throat. 

There’s an animal made of love living in his chest, one that used to be soft and sweet, pliant and receptive to Gale’s touches and kisses. All that cloying sweetness is now gone, leaving a feral living-dead beast in its wake that lives off grief and regret, and it is clawing to get out - through bones, muscles and tendons. It is willing to claw its way out to freedom even if it kills Gale. 

And Gale, who has never let go of anything that he loves and loves him back, hopes that the beast does kill him when it escapes because at least then, he won’t have to live without it. 

He watches the man in the window settle beside him, pressed together from shoulder to elbow while the man’s long legs are splayed carelessly in contrast to Gale’s crossed legs. He thinks, with no small amount of jealousy, that the Gale in the window must be warming up now - that body in the window has always emit warmth like a furnace when it lived and breathed.

Curt used to drape his entire body over that broad, reliable back and made a show of sighing in contentment, delighted in the knowledge that he’s safe from Gale’s chronic inability to share. 

This is why I’m the big spoon, fellas. This right here is heaven.

Gale’s eyelids flutter when the animal gnaws at his breastbone. He lifts his left hand to rub his chest, his fingers firm through his soft sleeping shirt. 

“Big day, today.” 

The man in the window picks up window-Gale’s right hand and presses it between his big, labor-roughened ones. Gale watches as he fits their fingers together like puzzle-pieces before pressing their joined hands against his chest. Gale imagines he can feel the stiff material of that crisp buttoned shirt and the tie tucked neatly between the folds. 

“Listen, I don’t want you thinking that I’m all bent outta shape because you asked Benny to be your best man,” the man in the window kisses their joined hands. Gale wishes the animal in his chest would just eat his heart on its way out. “He’s a good guy, the best friend you’ll ever have. After me, that is.” 

The sky outside is starting to lighten - orange and yellow just starting to climb up the horizon, blending into the blues of the departing night sky. Their reflection in the window starts to blur at the edges with the light. Gale’s own right hand, empty of its complimentary left hand that used to belong to a man bigger than life itself, twitched. 

Eat me, kill me, do anything but don’t let me live without you. He thinks fervently as the pressure in his chest mounts, the beast’s attempt at a daring escape reaching its climax. He imagines the little beast, its mouth red with the gore of his torned-up heart, ripping into the sinews of his chest and digging its way out of its grave made of flesh and blood. 

“Someone had to go, Buck.” Gale can barely make out the outline of the man in the window with how fast the sun climbs on the horizon. He feels tears flood his eyes, his breaths coming in short and harsh. He sees a beautiful smile bloom on that beloved face, one so earnest that the force of it pushes beautiful blue eyes into crescent moons that used to light Gale’s night. “And I’m glad it was me, not you.” 

Gale can feel the animal’s claws piercing the skin of his chest now - so vividly that he wonders if he will see red bleed through his sleep shirt if he looks down. He wonders if his lifeblood will soak into this stupid lush carpet that he’s been ruining with his fingers for want of something else - something untouchable, unattainable, something stolen from him- to latch onto. 

His breaths are coming in too fast, too short. His eyes are overflowing. There is no way to stop the storm. He is drowning on dry land.

“I did set it up right.” 

The man in the window is just a blur of colors now, like watercolors on cellulose paper. Dark curls a blob of black, blending into splashes of beige, that bleeds into the drab olive of their uniforms. Despite all that, Gale can just see enough to pretend that the man is kissing window-Gale’s temple. 

His mind frantically searches through its ruined depths to pull up memories of the same lips pressing countless kisses to his face, his body, every inch of his skin in secrecy, hidden in alcoves and abandoned sheds and in the belly of a decommissioned B-17. He craves the sensation of warm dry lips against his skin, the euphoria of soaking up little pieces of John Egan's soul through skin to skin contact.

Sunrise peeks through the window. Its blood orange color spills onto the hotel floor like spilled wine, slowly but surely staining the carpet. 

“I just set it up for you.” 

The animal bursts through Gale’s chest in a mess of grief, blood, and gore. It tears a wretched sob from his throat, long overdue, for the first time since he jumped over that wall in Germany. 

The sun rises.

And his John is gone.

-

-

(read my partner in crime's thought's on this)

#masters of the air #mota #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #bucky egan #buck cleven #mota fic #clegan #clegan fic #jaeger writes

[suzukiblu]

WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

the one where Kon's soulmark isn't fake

feral Kon and liger pups

Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this

you're a real Katch, girl

Tim + clonecest

snippet from “the one where Kon's soulmark isn't fake”:

Anyway, then Steel catches them, so that's pretty helpful. 

"Thanks, man," Superboy manages past the painful kryptonite-induced weakness and nausea, and Steel sets them both down all nice and neat on the sidewalk. 

"Any time, kid," he says as he breaks the bolted-in kryptonite off Lois Lane's chest with an armored hand, then tears off into the sky with it, presumably to deal with a certain delusional idiot. Superboy figures he'll leave him to it and just make sure the pretty lady is okay, given the active involvement of kryptonite in the whole situation. 

He looks at Lois Lane and opens his mouth to ask if she's alright, and she shrugs out of the broken straps that are all that's left of the bomb harness now that Steel's gotten at it. 

The front of her blouse is torn right over her heart, and Superboy can see the bright blue swirl of her soulmark through the damage. 

It really pops, he thinks distantly. 

"You're staring, kid," Lois Lane says dubiously, putting a hand over her exposed mark, and Superboy jolts in mortification. 

"Sorry!" he blurts, looking away quick. Well–now he knows who's on the other end of Superman's soulmark, he guesses. And it's not like it's a surprise who it is. A lot of people have suspected that Lois Lane and Superman are soulmates, after all, especially since he died and everyone found out he definitely had one. 

Though the confirmation of that fact does kinda make Superboy wonder what's going on with Clark Kent, now. He thought he and Lois Lane were engaged or something. Or like–maybe they're married by now? He doesn't actually know. He doesn't, like, make a habit of keeping up on the relationship status of random Daily Planet reporters. 

Although he guesses Lois Lane doesn't count as "random", considering. 

"Sorry," he mutters again. "I won't, like–tell. Obviously. I mean it's not–like, obviously you'd be Superman's soulmate but I won't actually–" 

"It's not Superman," Lois Lane says shortly, still covering her chest kind of . . . protectively, maybe? And Superboy . . . frowns. 

"What?" he says.

#meme #wip wednesday #omegaverse #wip: the one where kon's soulmark isn't fake #long post

[defectivevillain]

shared solitude

pairing: Lawrence Gordon/Reader

summary: “How are you feeling?” Lawrence asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.  “Fine, doc,” you say, if only to make Lawrence’s eyebrow tick in annoyance. You know he hates it when you call him that, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Ironically, it’s in moments like these that you realize just how good of a doctor Lawrence is—how patient and understanding he is, even in the wake of your stubbornness. 

Lawrence helps you recover from top surgery. 

The reader’s pronouns are unspecified and race/gender is kept ambiguous. 

This one’s for my nb, transmasc and otherwise gender-nonconforming friends <3. If you want top surgery and haven’t gotten it yet, then I’m manifesting it for you. And if you don’t want it, then that’s fine too—you can just kick back and enjoy Lawrence Gordon being an amazing partner!

ao3 version | word count: 1.6k

warnings: mentions of surgery, medications, pain, nausea (typical medical stuff); some brief self-deprecating thoughts. 

When you get up from the couch after several hours, you’re unsurprised to find that the effort is awkward and slightly painful. You just had top surgery a few days ago, and the binder you have to wear over your bandages is horribly uncomfortable. You know that your patience will pay off soon—and that you’ll be taking the binder off within a week. Still, it makes regular activity rather difficult. 

You just need to get some more water and stretch your legs. Sighing, you take a few slow steps forward until you’re near the water dispenser in the kitchen. The water seems to drip into your bottle with infinite slowness, and you eventually have to lean forward and brace yourself against the wall with a hand.

“I told you not to get up without me.”

Your heart rate spikes at the sudden noise, but you immediately recognize the voice. Lawrence is back from work, it seems. You had no idea it had gotten so late in the day already. Not that you’re complaining.  “Lawrence, you scared me,” you say breathlessly. Lawrence just raises his eyebrows at you, evidently questioning why you’re standing up. “I’m fine. I just needed to get some water and move around a bit.”

The skepticism fades from the doctor’s expression, replaced instead with concern. “Just be careful,” Lawrence chastises. He places his jacket on the coat hanger near the door, before taking off his shoes and walking over to you. You know you must look horrible right now, but Lawrence doesn’t seem to care. He leans in and places a kiss on your forehead, before his gaze falls to your sides.  “Did you check your drains?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago,” you respond, allowing yourself to lean into him for a moment. You’re infinitely grateful that you have Lawrence to guide you along in this recovery process. You know you’re capable of caring for yourself on your own, but it’s nice to know that someone else cares about you, too. 

“How are you feeling?” Lawrence asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip is firm and reassuring. You take a deep breath. Despite your overwhelming appreciation for Lawrence’s assistance, he can get a little… overbearing at times. You know it’s all born out of compassion and concern, but it’s hard not to feel patronized sometimes. 

“Fine, doc,” you say, if only to make Lawrence’s eyebrow tick in annoyance. You know he hates it when you call him that, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Ironically, it’s in moments like these that you realize just how good of a doctor Lawrence is—how patient and understanding he is, even in the wake of your stubbornness. A hint of a smile falls on your lips. 

“Have you taken your meds?” He hums, his thumb running along your skin as his hand cradles your jaw. You meet his gaze and nearly choke on your next breath as you see the sheer adoration in his glimmering blue eyes. 

“I switched to Ibuprofen this morning,” you murmur, leaning into him for another moment before slowly breaking away. You haven’t been able to shower in the past few days, and despite the efforts you’ve taken to maintain your hygiene in other ways, you still feel a little self-conscious. Lawrence has maintained several times that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. 

“Okay, good,” Lawrence says, breaking you out of your thoughts. His hand slips from your face and he tugs his sleeve up to glance at his watch. “You can take Tylenol after you eat something.” His gaze turns expectant at that latter statement. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say through gritted teeth. Truthfully, you are hungry, but nothing sounds good. The thought of food right now turns your stomach. Lawrence has a knowing expression on his face as he regards you, as if he’s able to read your unspoken thoughts. He takes a few steps towards your pantry and looks around. 

“How about some rice?” Lawrence asks, turning around to look at you questioningly. “It’s easy on the stomach.” 

He’s right. Besides, you know that you should eat something. You’ve only really been snacking for most of the day, eating crackers and other small things when your stomach allowed for it. “Sure.” Lawrence smiles and tells you to settle on the couch. You hear him rustling around in the kitchen, evidently getting whatever cooking utensils he needs. You hope that he’s making something for himself, too.

Some time later, Lawrence is heading back to the living room with a bowl of steaming white rice in hand. You slowly push yourself up, ignoring the tight feeling the movement provokes in your chest. After noticing that Lawrence is also holding something for himself, you swing your legs around to leave him room to sit next to you. He settles next to you and remains silent for a moment. You realize that he’s watching you eat. 

“I don’t need help eating, Lawrence,” you huff fondly. To your surprise, he flushes pink at that and moves away. You quickly backpedal, wanting to make sure that he knows you’re just joking. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean it like that… I really appreciate all your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be just fine,” Lawrence smiles down at his plate, before taking another bite of his own meal. You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for taking periodic bites of your food. Lawrence seems content to share the silence, as he picks at his food. Once you’re done eating as much as you can, he presses a pill into your hand and you down it with water. 

Lawrence finishes with his own meal moments later and reaches for your plate. “Hey, let me do something,” you remark, holding your plate in a tight grip. “I’ll do the dishes.” You try to push yourself up, but Lawrence places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you back onto the couch. 

“Absolutely not,” Lawrence argues. You glare at him and he takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you need to take it easy.” He implores you, before taking your plate and stacking it on top of his. “I’m doing the dishes.” He proceeds to walk into the kitchen. You hear the water running and the occasional clanging sound of dishes. Moments later, Lawrence is back and settled into the couch next to you. 

You keep sneaking him sidelong glances, hoping he doesn’t notice. He looks tired—dark circles under his eyes. He’s been busy at work recently, from what he’s told you. Guilt stews in your chest at the thought that his work as a caretaker doesn’t end when he leaves work. “I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lawrence replies, reaching out to place a hand on your knee. You disagree. You’ve been doing nothing the past few days, save for leeching off of Lawrence and practically demanding his constant attention. 

“I just feel so useless-” You admit, your throat burning with unshed tears. You hate being so sedentary, feeling so restless and frustrated. 

“You are not useless,” Lawrence interjects sincerely. There is a stern expression on his face as he looks at you. “Absolutely not. And besides, we’ve talked about this. I told you that I would care for you as you recovered—that I wanted to.” He maintains, turning to the side to look at you head-on. 

“You’ve been there for me for so long,” Lawrence continues. “Now, let me return the favor. Okay?” He leans into you and presses a kiss to your lips. You feel a smile growing on your face. Somehow, he always knows how to cheer you up. 

“Okay,” you whisper, your eyelids burning and feeling heavier. It seems your exhaustion is catching up to you. You lean back into the cushion behind you. Just before you feel your mind begin to calm down, Lawrence interjects. 

“Don’t go to sleep yet,” he remarks. You blink dazedly, opening your eyes to find him staring at you expectantly. “You can’t sleep out here—it would be bad for your back.” You groan at the thought of having to move again, triggering more pain. Lawrence extends a hand and you take it, allowing him to guide you into a standing position. Thankfully, it is a rather short walk from the living room to your bedroom, and Lawrence provides the support you need to make it to the bed. You slowly sit down on the bed, before trying to grab the covers. He pushes your hand away and pulls the sheets over you. 

“Do you need anything else?” Lawrence asks once you’re settled, eyebrows furrowed in concern. His gaze flits to your nightstand and wanders about the room, before settling on you once more. 

“I don’t think so,” you respond with a slight shake of your head. You reach out and clasp his hand. “Thank you, Lawrence.”

“Any time.” He responds.

Once you heal from surgery, you take over dishwashing duty for a straight month—until Lawrence has to practically drag you away from the dishwasher and reassure you that you’re doing your part, that you don’t owe him anything. 

For now, though, you’re content to let your head fall back into the pillow behind you. Lawrence lingers in the doorway, a soft smile on his face that you rarely get to see.

“I love you,” Lawrence murmurs. You smile, wondering—not for the first time—how you got so lucky.  

“I love you too,” you respond without hesitation. “Good night, Lawrence.” He flicks the light off and closes the door, but the warmth of his gestures settles into the air around you and coaxes you into a gentle slumber. 

thanks for reading! <3

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#defectivevillain #x reader #reader insert #nb reader #gn reader #transmasc reader #Lawrence gordon x reader #saw movies #saw #saw franchise #saw x reader #Lawrence gordon x gn reader #Lawrence gordon x male reader #etc etc