#everything has changed part 9 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 3 months

Text

sincerely yours. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, usage of alcohol, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode ten

Satoru had a major problem.

And it was his self-control. His lack of self-control was the reason he had engaged himself in an adulterous relationship back when he was married. His lack of self-control was the reason why you had become the recipient of his unreasonable anger in the early stages of your marriage. His lack of self-control was the reason why, out of all the women in the world, he was now sleeping with a friend of yours. For God’s sake, his lack of self-control was probably the reason why you were also pushed to your limits, choosing to cut your marital ties with him and leaving only the scraps of his role as a parent to Sachiro.

Back when he was attending his weekly therapy sessions, his therapist told him that part of what he needed to learn was to control his impulses, resist temptations, and actively exercise his willpower. They were easier to achieve then than now, since he was the loneliest man at the time with no friends, no wife, no son, and no bustling company to run. His decisions remained untainted, his temptations unchallenged, his emotions uninfluenced—a solitary journey at its finest. He was all by himself. How come? It was because he was sent by his mom to Osaka to temporarily seclude him from his harrowing memories in Tokyo, compelling him to sever ties with the outside world and immerse solely in personal convalescence. Reflecting now, it felt no different than being sent to a psychiatric hospital.

He could say it worked at the time. He learned how to keep his emotions at bay. He learned how to control his thoughts, throwing away the bad and keeping only the good. He was a new man by the time he returned to Tokyo, prepared as ever to take on his role as the Chairman of the Gojou Group, ready to once again try and live a normal life. But the moment news had spread about his ex-wife's marriage to his business rival, all the self-control he had painstakingly cultivated seemed to have evaporated in an instant.

Everything also went downhill after that.

He wasn’t going to list down all of the things that happened nor the impact it had on him since you yourself were a witness to them. But if he was going to look at the way your return has changed the trajectory of his life 3 years after you first left, he would still at a hundred percent put all the blame on his shoulders. None of this domino effect would end up like this if he had been a faithful and loving husband in the first place. The pressure from his father was not the only root of all this, the branches also extended to his corporate greed which ultimately ruined his chance at a fruitful marriage with you.

But at least, the chaos should have settled by now. You chose to move forward and he decided to respect your decision by finding his way to another. This should free you both from the emotional torture that had you imprisoned in each other's cage for the longest time. He would still be there for you as the father of your child, but otherwise, he was happy that you had Toji Zen’in by your side to fill in the marital gaps that he had failed to complete.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The warm water fell on his body in rivulets, soaking him completely so early in the morning as he decided to take a long shower. For how long? He couldn’t tell. He could stay there for hours if need be. He had to let his mind wander on its own, with a hand pressed against the wall, and another stroking his white hair back. Despite accepting the fact that Toji now owned your love and affection… well, wasn’t that son of a gun too lucky? Did he even realize that the woman he would marry was once Satoru’s entire universe?

Ah, but who cares? Satoru scoffed inwardly, leaning his head back to let the water hit his face. He had Akemi, so why did it matter if you had Toji? He wasn’t bitter. He was just trying to reason with himself that you deserved to be with someone you really, truthfully loved. And he deserved that, too. Maybe not now, but at the perfect time, he could relive the life of a married man after learning from his mistakes the hard way. A much better one. A married man who would never in his life betray, hurt, or ruin his partner. A doting husband who would offer his whole life just to make her happy. He promised to himself that Akemi should have that kind of man from him.

Though, he could ask himself, how far was he from achieving that? He did practice his self-control last night when joined you in the pool—his face, inches away from you. Hand gripping your hip. Eye-to-eye. Skin-to-skin. Your warm breath fanning his cheek. Just another step forward and your lips would touch. But he didn’t let that happen. He mustered all of his power to pull back from the gravity that was drawing him closer to you. Still, he couldn’t deny that you looked absolutely gorgeous last night. As the moonlight illuminated your face, he could swear that the stars also sparkled on your eyes. They must be from the tears you were desperately holding back, but either way, you were still so goddamn beautiful. He almost couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night and had to distract himself from looking at your lips, your collarbone, your chest, your curves…

“Fuck.”

Talk about self-control.

Satoru had none of that right now. His body reacted involuntarily to the thought of you last night. The sensual thought of you. The what-ifs.

What if he had wrapped your legs around his waist and enveloped your lips into a passionate kiss?

He took a deep breath, still holding onto the wall as his other hand traveled to his growing member.

What if he had carried you all the way into the living room and laid you naked on the couch?

Closing his eyes, his hand started moving on its own, stroking his hardened cock and feeling every ridge as he pleasured himself.

What if you had let him devour you? Let him roll his tongue on your entrance and taste your sweet, sweet flesh?

Gojou let out a moan. A quiet yet desperate moan when he continued to jerk himself off faster and rougher. Damn it. He had to keep it low and he better not be heard committing such a sin in the bathroom. Although, he was confident that you were still sound asleep next to Sachiro in your bedroom, so he didn't think you would hear the noise he was making.

After all, it was shameless to know what was driving his feral thoughts right now. Thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. Thoughts of him ramming his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls. Thoughts of your breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Faster. He would have taken you on all fours, too. He would have let you ride his hardened shaft. He would have pressed you against the sofa and put your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you for the second time around. He would absolutely love that. He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy. He would be at bliss watching your belly grow a few months after that, knowing that he had created yet another beautiful life inside of you.

“Y/N…”

Awakened by his senses, Satoru opened his eyes and saw the sticky white mess on his hand and on the wall. What the hell did he just do? More importantly, what the hell was he thinking of?

No one should know about that. Not you, not even Akemi. He didn’t cheat on her, no. He didn’t do anything with you. That shouldn’t be counted as cheating. He didn’t even touch you. And he wasn't even officially dating Akemi.

No, no…

Absolutely not.

Drowning into a pool of guilt, the first thing he did after that sinful shower session was to contact his supposed girlfriend not-girlfiend. And to make things even more awkward, you entered the kitchen in silence at the right time, carrying a sleepy Sachiro in your arms, unaware of the dilemma that was sending your ex-lover into a spiral.

“Morning,” he greeted almost inaudibly, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee afterwards. He had to think straight.

“Morning,” was your simple and oblivious reply as you went about your daily morning routine.

Gojou, on the other hand, was typing on his phone because Akemi wasn’t answering his FaceTime calls. He had completely forgotten to update her all day because he had been a little bit too occupied the moment he landed in America. She must be overthinking why he hadn’t reached out to her until now, and he felt extremely awful and responsible for that, but she couldn’t be fast asleep that early, right? It was 7:00 a.m. in New York, so that meant it was only 9:00 p.m. back home.

He nervously rang her number once more, mumbling a ‘please answer’ as he watched her caller ID appear on the screen.

“Dada,” called Sachiro, looking at him as his mother sat him on the high chair to prepare his breakfast.

Still holding his phone, Satoru walked to his son and placed a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead. “Morning, Sachi. Did you sleep well?”

The toddler nodded at him, drinking milk from the baby bottle that he was holding with both hands. His eyes were wide and blue—quite the same hues of blue that would remind you of a clear sky. Satoru couldn’t help but pinch his adorable son’s cheeks.

And while you were busy picking out food from the pantry, Akemi finally answered his call after the fourth attempt and showed her beautiful, soft features on the screen. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, how are you?”

He could tell she was still a bit distant and upset because of what happened two weeks ago, when she claimed to have heard him say your name during his sleep. He already made an excuse for it as he also didn’t know why he even did it in the first place, but Akemi was still understandably hurt. He couldn’t blame her.

“I’m fine, how are you?” she tiredly asked, seemingly heading towards her bed. “I just got home from work, that's why I wasn’t answering.”

He could see, in the corner of his eyes, that you were glancing at him but he didn’t return it. All of his focus was on Akemi, feeling bad that he hadn’t exactly been a good partner for her lately. Especially after the shit he just did in the shower this morning, but that was a secret that was meant to be buried. “Alright, did you have dinner already? It’s morning here so I’m having breakfast.”

She offered a small smile albeit the visible exhaustion on her eyes. “I did. How’s Sachiro doing?”

“You wanna see him?” He walked closer to his son, showing him on the screen as his big blue eyes stared at the woman on the other end of the line. “Sachi, say hi to Auntie ‘Kemi.”

“Hiii~” Sachiro happily greeted Akemi, while the latter cooed at the sight of his son. She spoke to him with a gentle and motherly tone, weaving warmth and love into her words. It made his heart full knowing that Akemi would wholeheartedly treat his child as her own, because if there was a slight possibility that she wouldn’t, she knew that Satoru would rather let her go. His child was still more important than any other woman. And so if his future partner couldn’t accept the fact that he had a child with his ex-wife, then they shouldn’t be in his life after all. The case was different with Akemi because she was already your friend and she had the chance to see Sachiro grow up before Gojou even knew his son existed at all. It was a bit complicated, but things turned out to be easier on the part of acceptance.

The only problem was you.

Because by the time the call ended, Satoru could tell that you weren’t in the best mood as you ate breakfast next to Sachiro in complete silence. Your eyebrows were curled into annoyance, and yet your eyes held sadness in them, an expression that had become difficult for him to fathom. Were you jealous of Akemi? He assumed you would say no, but your expressions showed otherwise.

“Y/N,” he called for your attention, hoping that you would look into his eyes for a little bit. Yet, not a chance did you do. “What’s our agenda for today?”

You seemed irritated, if anything. You refused to look at him as you gave a curt reply. “I communicated everything you needed to know via email. You should have checked it instead of letting Miwa do everything for you.”

Jeez. You were definitely angry. “Okay.” He cleared his throat once more. “I just asked in case there was a last minute change.”

“There isn’t. I would have said so if there is.”

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t know how to act in front of his ex-wife anymore. Now that he had seemed to ignite your pique, he chose not to say anything else further as you two finished your meals and cleaned up after yourselves. The only time he spoke again was when he offered to bathe Sachiro so that you could focus on yourself.

You agreed.

And he did his part.

It was simple give-and-take. A transactional relationship, if you must. Nothing else would blossom from that except your responsibilities as parents for Sachiro.

——

The New York trip was already as awkward as it was. And it only just started.

To be fair, it wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable if only Gojou had not decided to make it so. He was the one that made the atmosphere unpleasant by trying to savor every inch of closeness he could get to your skin, only to pull away as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t care about how it made you feel. He even had the audacity to lecture you on how to go about being good parents and setting a good example to Sachiro. Then suddenly, the next morning, he would act like such a loyal and caring partner to Akemi.

The thought of his loyalty made you scoff on the inside. He should be the absolute last one to be saying that. He should be the last one to profess how much of a loyal man he was trying to be to his new girl.

Besides, even before this trip was arranged, you had already made it clear on your mind that the sole purpose of going to New York was for Sachiro's sake. Any interaction outside the need to be there for your son would be unnecessary. He wasn’t someone you still needed in your own personal life nor did he need you in his. Your past relationship no longer mattered in this situation and all that was left was for it to be forgotten. But even with your resistance to be anything more than a parent to your son, Satoru still respected you. He still showed, even in little ways, that he cared about your comfort throughout the trip.

Five days had gone by, and everything you did in New York had been smooth sailing, all thanks to his grand number of connections across the USA. In a short amount of time, Sachiro’s surname had been legally changed, and everything else concerning his birth certificate had been corrected. The only issue left to address was your son’s nationality since Japan doesn’t permit dual citizenship and Sachiro would have to carry a Japanese citizenship and the Gojou name to be able to inherit his father’s assets and multinational conglomerate. You would leave that one up for Satoru to deal with, but everything else had been settled on your end.

Although this trip wasn’t exactly a vacation, Gojou insisted that you two still take Sachiro out to explore the city he grew up in. And you did so by going to Central Park, telling your ex-husband stories of how you used to bring Sachiro there in a stroller when he was still a little baby and that plenty of strangers, both locals or tourists, would coo at him the minute they took a peek at his adorable face. You also took him to the Empire State Building to get the best view of the entire New York City, and Satoru being Satoru couldn’t leave without taking a family photo with you and your son, capturing the beautiful urban cityscape behind you. You could see it in his eyes that even though he was happy to be there, he was also melancholic at the same time. Almost three years of his son’s life were spent in this famous city, without him, and it was as though the bitter memories of those three years for him were haunting him back. Sadness was reflecting off of his crystal blue eyes as he took a minute staring at the view of the city, reminding you that you were the reason why he had missed out on his baby’s first memories.

If guilt could literally eat you alive, you would have been devoured.

“Ready to go, Sachi?” Satoru asked your son, tucking his phone away after having (seemingly) sent Akemi a text message, probably updating her of where he was and what he was doing. In fact, he had been texting and calling her every now and then, as if he was doing his best to reassure her that he wasn’t doing any funny business with you. Has Akemi always been a possessive partner? Even with your years of friendship with her, she had never acted that way in her past relationship. So, was she only like that to Satoru specifically? You wondered if she would go nuts had she heard Satoru tell you how badly he wanted to make more babies with you on your first night here.

Sachiro nodded, clinging to your hand while reaching for his father’s. “Dada, hand pwease!”

Satoru did offer his hand, but mirrored the surprise on your face when your son tried to link your fingers together, urging you to hold each other's hands like a couple. You didn’t want to get too offended by it, but your ex-husband was the first one to pull away. “I, uh, made a reservation for us in Carbone,” he said, unable to exchange eye-contact, “Yuuta will meet us there.”

“Oh, he’s in New York?” you asked, pretending you didn’t notice how he acted allergic to your touch and redirected your attention to your son. “Did you hear that, Sachi? Uncle Yuuta will come and see you.”

Your little one was oblivious to the world, too distracted by the throng of people surrounding the place that he didn’t even notice how his parents were uneasy with each other. To say that you didn’t feel bad for your son was a lie, because it actually broke your heart. Even if you and Satoru were working on co-parenting and making sure Sachiro wouldn’t feel the gravity of a broken household, you knew that when he reached the right age, all of this would still have an effect on him. One day, he would still be asking questions about his parents. Questions about why you separated, why your marriage failed, and why you had to move to New York while his father stayed behind. It hurt. Deep inside, it hurt so much to know that your only son wasn’t given the chance to have a complete family and it felt like a failure on your part as his parent.

You were sure that was what Yuuta thought, too. As you met with him at a fancy restaurant in the city, you could see how his face lightened up seeing his nephew bonding with his parents as if it were a family vacation. He must have known what it was like to have a broken household. In fact, he had lived in a toxic one before, but he still grew up to be a mature and dignified young man who never let the horrors of his family’s actions affect his rational thinking. So if there was anyone in the world who would sympathize the most with Sachiro, it would be Yuuta.

“Sachi,” he spoke to your son fondly, wiping the sauce on the toddler’s chin. Yuuta chuckled as he watched the little boy's grimace after being given a small piece of broccoli. “You don’t like vegetables?”

You fixed the bib on your son’s neck. “He does, but he’s very picky with it,” you tell Yuuta, glancing at Satoru who was busy speaking on the phone with Nanami about what appeared to be matters concerning the company. “Wonder where he got it from.”

“Right.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into moon crescents as he smiled. “I remember nii-san being a little picky.”

“You hear that Sachi?” you teased your son, who looked at you with his cute puppy eyes. You knew that if you had the ability to peak through his toddler mind, it would actually be full of fried chicken. The thought made you laugh. “Don’t be like daddy, okay? Sachi needs to have his veggies so he’ll be strong when he grows up.”

“But…” Sachiro pointed to his father. “Dada is stwong.”

Satoru chimed in at the conversation after having finished the call, “That’s right, Dada’s strong. Mommy could barely even handle me.”

“Do you even know what we’re talking about?” You rolled your eyes, while Yuuta wanted to giggle, but chose to hold it back seeing the awkwardness of the situation.

Satoru shrugged and sat on his chair, eyeing the scrumptious dishes that were served to your table. He was acting like he hadn't been served more expensive meals before. “Have you tried the spicy rigatoni before? I heard it’s famous here.”

You casually answered. “Yes. Toji used to bring me here every time he visited.”

Look, you didn’t mean to overshare nor did you mean to make things even more awkward. You also didn’t mean to slap it in his face about how you were spending your years in New York with Toji. But Satoru, with his pride, took it resentfully.

“Oh, really?” His words were the opposite of his voice. He was mirthless and full of unenthusiasm before changing the topic, redirecting his attention to his step-brother instead. “How’s Harvard?”

Yuuta eased the tension by making small talk, sharing details about his university life, and making sure he didn’t contribute to the growing tension. “I’m really just trying to survive this semester so I can go back home as soon as I graduate.” After taking a sip of his Cabernet Blend, he continued, “Like I promised, I’ll help you with the company.”

You were happy, at least, to know that Satoru and Yuuta had fixed their relationship as step-brothers even after the whole incident with Nana, Eula, and their father. What used to be a relationship full of envy and competition finally became one that was full of mutual trust and support. Yuuta deserved that since he never once wished for his brother’s downfall, while Satoru also deserved to have a family member that had his back and helped him with the business without constantly fighting about inheritance. Because technically, Satoru was the sole heir of the Gojou family, and his dad only made it seem as though he would give it to Yuuta to make his own son comply with his orders. Satoru’s dad was controlling in that sense, and that was what led to all of this.

But the present was more important. Things have changed and mistakes have been learned. It was all up to you on how you were going to manage your new life moving forward.

Only, if only things were a little bit different on his side.

——

You had raised your son all by yourself for the last 3 years, so the presence of his father wasn’t really something you were used to for the longest time. How Sachiro acted around other people was solely a reflection of your teachings, discipline, and guidance as his mother. He didn’t really have a paternal figure up until now, and even if Toji was there to support your journey to motherhood, he never fully meddled with your mother-son relationship nor did he act like a replacement to Sachiro’s biological father. He loved him like his own, but respected the fact that the spot was reserved for Satoru. He knew that. He understood that, because he himself experienced raising a child alone without the presence of a mother. And if you asked him, he, too, would not want Megumi to replace the very love that he was supposed to have for his biological mom. Sure, Megumi could love and respect you, but Toji would still want him to save an unnegotiable spot for his mother in his heart. After all, she had birthed him. And in that same way, you had birthed Sachiro and created him with Satoru during your marriage. If there was anyone Sachiro should look up to, it had to be his father.

And quite frankly, the father himself was doing an excellent job.

But then again, remembering how hands-on Satoru was to you during your pregnancy, you never doubted that he would be a good parent. He may not be a perfect husband, but he loved his child with all of his heart and soul, and he would risk it all just to keep him happy.

It was new to you how, throughout the trip, you didn’t have to take care of Sachiro alone. You and Satoru helped each other harmoniously, attending to your toddler’s needs and making sure he was being prioritized. You were glad. Truly. You were grateful to see that he wasn’t an absent father and that his words weren’t empty when he promised you that he would be a responsible dad to him.

Though, at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he welcomed another child in this world? A child that didn’t come from you? Deep inside, it hurt you to imagine him neglecting Sachiro on the side the minute he welcomed a new baby with Akemi. The reality was, the father would always prioritize the child of the current wife, not the child of the ex-wife. He would still support him, sure. But would he still pay the same level of attention that he was giving Sachiro now? You would probably break in half if Sachiro was thrown to the agonizing realm of feeling like an outsider in his own family because no child deserved that. If Satoru had that experience first-hand, he should not subject his own son to that same feeling.

You would be selfish to say this, but you wanted to seize the opportunity while Sachiro was still his only son. Hiding him from his father was your fault—you had gone through that a million times and you weren’t shy at holding yourself accountable through that mistake. However, you were already doing your best to make amends and make up for the years Sachiro had missed around his father. He was Satoru’s first and only child, and therefore he should never fight for his father’s affection. You weren’t sure what Satoru’s long term plans with Akemi were, but if they were considering having their own children someday, you would never allow your son to be pushed back at the bottom of the family tree.

Sachiro was the true first-born son of Satoru. He should never have to fight for his position in his father's eyes.

And so on the night of your flight back to Japan, when Satoru asked if he could take Sachiro with him for the rest of the week, you had no problems in saying yes. Your only wish right now was for them to spend as much time together as possible.

“Where are you taking him?” you did ask in spite of your leniency to send your son away, waiting inside the car as the pilot and crew prepared the private jet. “Please send me the full address. I need to know where he’s gonna stay and—”

“You’ll get the details from Miwa,” he casually said, rubbing Sachiro’s back as the little boy slept on his chest. He didn’t bother meeting your eyes as he talked. “I’m just taking him to my vacation home in Osaka.”

Osaka…

That was where his mother isolated him from the rest of the world when he was having terrible episodes. Episodes that worsened after he had found out that you ‘terminated’ his child and abandoned him for good. Shoko once said that they felt like Gojou disappeared from their lives while he was there, because nobody else could reach out to him. They couldn’t visit him nor could they contact him for a year or so until he was mentally ready to come back to Tokyo.

You didn’t want to pry on matters that were sensitive to him, so you chose not to say anything concerning his decision to take Sachiro to Osaka. He must have wanted to reflect on his past experiences, allowing him to heal from them as it brought him to the incommutable life he had now—life knowing that Sachiro actually existed after everything that he was made to believe.

“Please take good care of him, okay?” It was only a reminder, nothing else.

Satoru kept a straight face, nodding before he planted a kiss on his son’s forehead. “I got it from here.”

After a minute of silence, you both got out of the car and you watched him carry the peaceful Sachiro in his arms. You left the sleeping toddler a tender kiss on the cheek before parting ways. “I love you, my baby.” Stroking his hair, you kissed his tiny nose. “Mommy will see you soon.”

Satoru knew that you were staying behind. You had informed him of your plans before you even came here to the airport with him, explaining that Toji would be in Miami and that you had made arrangements to meet with your fiancé there. Satoru didn’t say anything much about it either, simply nodding his head at your decision and telling you to ‘do whatever’ because he was no longer a husband you should report your plans to. There was no hint of jealousy in his stance, but you couldn't miss the flicker of bitterness that did appear on his eyes for a millisecond.

You didn’t even say goodbye to each other as you watched them board the plane. And he didn’t even bother looking back at you to tell you to take care of yourself. Not that you expected anything from him, but a quick goodbye would have been nice since you did spend the last couple of days together. Or perhaps, he was upset about the fact that you were staying behind to meet Toji?

Either way, you were on your own now.

It took some time for you to reach Toji in Miami. He had insisted on meeting you at the airport, but because he had to meet with a foreign investor, you headed straight to the hotel he was staying at. Funny enough, you couldn’t help but compare how different it was to stay in the same accommodation as your fiancé vs with your ex-husband and son. With Toji, nothing felt uncomfortable and sharing a room as a couple was as normal as it should be, but things did feel too formal and too forced. With Satoru, it felt awkward to share the same space with him, but since your son was there, it felt like home. It felt strangely close to home, like it was only right. That staying together as a family was what your heart wanted.

Ever since Satoru went back to Japan with Sachiro, you had been feeling a wave of separation anxiety. Your mind was always left wandering towards them; how they were doing, where they were, what they had for dinner. You wondered if Sachiro was giving his father a headache. Smiling at the thought, perhaps he was giving Satoru a hard time changing his diapers.

“Everything okay?” Toji, noticing your trance, put an arm around you as you two sat at the VIP lounge of the Miami Grand Prix. This was Toji’s scene. If Satoru was a fan of horseback riding and polo, Toji preferred big time F1 races. He even personally knew the racers, the type of cars they were driving, and everything a huge fan had to know. You weren’t all that familiar with these things, so it was a little hard to keep up with his lifestyle.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you stammered, realizing how distracted you had been all this time. “What were you saying?”

He drank from his glass of 30 year-old Macallan, downing the liquor like it was mere water. A cloud of disappointment settled over his features. “Not interesting to you, huh?”

“No, I…” You made an effort to place a hand on his nape, giving him an apologetic peck on the lips. “I’m really sorry for zoning out. I was just… I guess I was just a little tired from New York.”

Toji placed a hand on your knee, sighing. “It’s fine. I was just trying to introduce the guys to you,” he said, scooting closer as he pointed to the racers. “You know that guy? Lewis Hamilton. He’s quite popular with the ladies,” then he moved his finger towards the other drivers, “And we got here for Ferrari, Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc, also fan favorites.”

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of Gojou’s favorite car brand. “Um, how about McLaren? Who drives for them?”

Unsure if Toji caught on or not, he did take a minute before feeding into your curiosity. “Norris and Piastri.”

You wished you had any idea about F1 so that you could be as enthusiastic as Toji was at this event. He was at his happiest right now and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a boring, uncultured fiancé, because frankly, all these women around would have done a better job at entertaining him. Toji was very eye-candy and you couldn’t blame these models from glancing up at him, especially with how manly and suave he was, dressed like a picture perfect example of an old money businessman. The likes of him were the prey of these desperate influencers, willing to sell their bodies in exchange for a night with him. But truth be told, that was their way of living and you could never find it in yourself to insult them. You didn’t want to shame them for attempting to climb the social ladder because that was how they view money and success, or at least a faster ticket to it.

As long as they didn’t try to make moves on your fiancé while you were around, you wouldn’t be so bothered by a few stares here and there.

Neither was Toji. He must have experienced being stared at during these events plenty of times before, and he probably even sent women home crying because of rejection or worse, humiliation. Now that you think of it, how did Megumi feel when his father was being hit on while watching the Grand Prix? Most importantly, why was the teenage son absent at this current event?

“Love, why didn’t you bring Megumi with you?” you inquired out of a sudden curiosity, knowing that Megumi was always present next to his father during F1 events.

Toji took a sip of the hard liquor once more. “He didn’t wanna go. He was giving me the silent treatment before I left for the US.”

Confusion further blanketed your eyes. “Did something happen back home?”

He let out a deep breath, his face signaling that he was deep in dilemma. “The Zen’in elders want to set him up for an arranged marriage,” he revealed, much to your surprise, “They wanna make sure he’s not gonna end up like me, married to someone who wasn’t ‘qualified’ to be my wife.”

At first you were confused if he was referring to you, but you realized that he was describing his late wife. Megumi’s own mother, the only woman Toji had ever loved by a mile. He fought everyone for her, even turned his back on his own family for her, but claimed that he also ultimately led her to her demise because the elders of his family harassed her until the day she died. It was a tragic love, perhaps even more tragic than yours, so you somehow understood why Toji was conflicted about Megumi’s personal life.

But you? You were strongly against it. “I don’t support arranged marriages, you know that,” you told him with conviction, sympathizing for the poor boy, “It’s not gonna end well. You know what happened to me…”

“I know.” Toji’s eyes were filled with regret. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it unless Megumi himself tells me he has someone he loves.”

“Did you ask?”

“He’s tight-lipped about it.”

You sighed. “Well, he’s a teenager. They get pretty shy about these things.”

Forcing a marriage was never a good thing. You couldn’t understand why the concept even existed because it didn’t benefit anyone aside from the people around the married couple. That was why they called it a marriage of convenience. They were married for everyone’s sake but themselves; family name, status, business… You have had enough of it. If only you realized it from the very beginning, you never would have subjected yourself to a loveless marriage with Satoru. Even if your love did grow eventually, things still didn’t work out for the best, and now your life was a mess. A divorced couple co-parenting their only son? There was obviously no convenience gained in that false marriage.

Megumi would just be wasting years of his life tied to a person he didn’t love and so you were hoping that Toji would fight for his son’s right. Because if he truly understood you, he would not subject his son to the same suffering you went through.

“I wish my wife was here,” mumbled Toji, forlornly, “She’d know how to handle these things better than I do.”

Were you not there for him? You swallowed your pride, hiding the pain in your voice. “Right…” A smile was all that you could offer. “I’m sure she would.”

——

Something was different about Toji and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

It wasn’t his appearance, and neither was it the way he spoke to you. He was all the same except for one thing; the look in his eyes.

He had told you this before. He said that the eyes carry the most truthful and raw emotion that you can see on someone. The presence of love would be visible in someone’s eyes just as you would see stars on a clear, night sky. The lack, however, would mean that the eyes are blank and empty like the dark void in the expanse of the universe. You didn’t have to be poetic to be able to discern the way his eyes communicated his most solemn feelings in spite of trying to show otherwise.

He must have been tired. Being caught up in your back-and-forths with your ex-husband, having to put up with your pretentious co-parenting situation, and the never ending need to keep an open mind about your situation with the same man who had ruined you. When your heart was in pieces, wasn’t he the one who tried to fix it? Wasn’t he the one who remained by your side during your darkest times?

Whether that may be true, whether he truly ever loved you, you could recognize the stark difference of the Toji that genuinely cared for you to the Toji that was only actively trying to be there for you. What had changed him all of a sudden?

“Toji, you drank a little too much.” A weary sigh escaped your lips, pulling all your might to drag your fiancé to lie comfortably in your shared bed later that night. At least, on the way to the hotel room, you had his bodyguards to thank for. They were there to haul him while he was in his drunken stupor, letting you lead the way, and dumping him carefully to his bed because there was no way you would be able to carry such a muscular man all by yourself. Now that you were alone with him, you decided to care for him the same way you used to do when Gojou was coming home drunk at night. Starting with his shoes that you took off, his shirt that you unbuttoned, his pants that you unzipped. “Come on, love. I’ll get you changed.”

The verdant hues of his eyes weren’t present. They were hiding behind his lids, refusing to meet your gaze. But if anything, he did open his mouth to speak, “...You. You wanna know a secret?”

Drunken words are sober thoughts, you reminded yourself. Of the numerous times Satoru had gotten drunk during the early stages of your marriage, it was how you found out that deep inside him, he did care for you. That in spite of his ill-tempered exterior, he was a man deprived of parental love and support. What would be the case for Toji, then?

“Yeah?” You waited for his answer, slipping his shirt off and revealing his toned body.

The scar on his mouth moved when he displayed a mirthless smile. He was as drunk as an alcoholic would be. “I don’t… think… I can love you the same way I loved my first wife.”

Your heart paused. In fact, every heartbeat became heavy. You knew how he felt, but didn’t expect him to say that out loud. “I-Is that so…?”

“Absolutely,” he mumbled, chuckling inaudibly. He was at a point where he was too far gone to realize the magnitude of the words he was saying to you. “Even if you try your best, she was everything I wanted in life and the only woman I could ever offer my heart to. She’s irreplaceable, and I don’t feel guilty about it... because I know you’re still into Satoru, too.”

“That’s…” You held your breath, holding back the sudden tears that formed in your eyes. “That’s not true.”

Toji wasn’t done yet, however. He still went on with his drunken speech like he was finally pouring out raw, yet hurtful words out of the bottle. “Who knows? You would’ve had him touch you back in New York if you didn’t have me. You would’ve had him impregnate you, have his second child with you, and guess what? He still won’t be loyal to you.”

The pain in your heart increased tenfold. Everything went still and every minute felt like a stab to your soul. Should you say something? Should you get angry at him? No, no you couldn’t. Your chest was tightening and you knew it was smart not to let such negative emotions overpower you. His words were just a little difficult to grasp because Toji never in his life had been callous with his words to you. The tears that fell from your eyes were from the betrayal that you felt after hearing the cruel words he had uttered. And yet, you tried to hold on to that thin string of hope that Toji’s words didn’t come from a place of truth.

“That’s enough, Toji. Go to sleep.” You pulled away, swallowing the bitter taste of weakness in your voice.

He hummed, unaware of the pain he had put you through. “The more I look at you, the more I realize how much I actually don’t want to spend my whole life with you,” he admitted, with little to no regard for your current feelings, “I can’t fill this emptiness by being with another empty soul. And if there’s one thing I’m most grateful for, it’s that I let you run away that day before I fulfilled my vows with you—”

“Enough!” You shot up from bed and wiped the flood of tears on your eyes. “Enough! I’ve heard everything you wanted me to hear, okay?! Enough!” you raised your voice in despair, almost begging for him to stop tearing your heart asunder. “I get it! I fucking get it… so enough. Please, Toji.”

Drunken words are sober thoughts.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Alcohol is a truth serum.

The revelation of Toji’s true feelings that night was a reminder to you that he was just like any other man. That you should have never put him in such a high regard, thinking that he would be the prince charming that would save the poor damsel in distress. Why? What would he benefit from someone like you? You only deluded yourself into thinking that a man like him would take a single mother so seriously. You were only meant to be a placeholder for his dead wife after all.

A placeholder, certainly. Not even deserving to have the title of a wife.

——

There was a huge contrast between being with you and Sachiro in New York vs being with Akemi and Sachiro in Osaka. The difference? There was no awkward air between Akemi and him. They were free to do things as they will—no restrictions, no certain do’s and don’ts. They were happy to have each other’s company, minus the guilt nor the unease of being by each other’s side. If anything, Satoru bitterly assumed that you were having the time of your life in Miami with Toji. You were so keen to see the man back there before parting ways with your ex-husband and son like you were simply discarding them to the side.

If so be it, then fine. Satoru had all the right to have his son all to himself while you were gone. Besides, Akemi was just one call away and she was everything he could ever ask for. She cared for Sachiro as if she was his own mother and Satoru couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t need to work on building a bond between her and his son.

In fact, Akemi very much knew how to win Sachiro’s heart. As they took his adorable son to Universal Studios that day, she was nothing short of a caring mother. She had acted as a guardian to his son throughout the rides, letting the toddler enjoy his time at all the wonderful attractions that the theme park had to offer. Not once did his son cry too, so that only meant that they were doing a great job at taking care of him.

Of course, it was a different story in the afternoon. After having spent all of his energy during the day, Sachiro had become tired and hungry by dinner time. But he wasn’t such a difficult kid to tend to, so Satoru was proud that his son still wasn’t throwing a tantrum even after a whole day of not having you around.

“We’re gonna get Sachi fried chicken,” he enticed the pouting toddler, kissing his forehead while Akemi carried him in her arms. “Is that what you want?”

Sachiro nodded and wrapped his little arms around his auntie’s neck. “Chicken, dada.”

Akemi smiled at the child’s gesture, tempting her to also place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re so cute and well-behaved, Sachi.”

“—Satoru?”

At the familiar voice, all three of them turned to the woman standing behind like a deer caught in the headlines. She was tall for a woman, slender, and had long, auburn hair, rosy cheeks, and ivory skin. Next to her was a tattooed man with salmon pink hair, a piercing on his ear, and a very defensive stance. Ah… How timely.

Sera and Sukuna.

Satoru wasn’t sure if he should openly greet them, after all, they weren’t acquaintances. And it was only recent that he got his memories back, triggered by Sera's presence at the expo. Other than that, he had no business with the two of them. Sukuna wasn’t a business partner of his, so him and Satoru had no formal connection towards each other. As for Sera, she might be his ex-girlfriend, but they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship to begin with, so…

“Of all the places,” she mumbled, almost gaping at the sight of him. Her eyes then trailed off to Akemi and Sachiro, with which her expressions shifted to guilt. Did she recognize his son? Did she remember the horrible attempt she did to harm his child during his ex-wife’s pregnancy? The memory was flooding Satoru’s brain like a tsunami. Yeah, in that case, Sera should definitely be filled with guilt. She tried to kill this harmless child.

He cleared his throat, now becoming protective over his son at the presence of his ex. “We gotta go—”

“I guess it’s true,” Sera spoke again, this time redirecting her attention to Akemi. “The rumors, I mean. It’s all just surprising to me considering how obsessive Satoru was to Y/N.” She paused, seemingly wanting to comment at her ex-boyfriend’s current relationship in a mocking way. She kept her eyes on Akemi only, while Satoru was left wondering why Sera was acting hostile towards her. What was her deal now? She wasn't in the position to be acting all entitled to Gojou anymore, but here she was, talking to Akemi like she had met her before. “Did you know? He sacrificed everything for her. No one else made him beg on his knees the same way Y/N did.”

He couldn’t even tell how Akemi felt while Sera was clearly taunting her with her words, but she still managed to smile and excuse herself, keeping Sachiro away from an environment that should only be between adults. It was ridiculous, surely. What was Sera thinking trying to subject his son around that kind of hostility? Balling his fists, Satoru turned to Sukuna and spoke to him man-to-man. “You’d better keep your woman entertained so she’ll stop meddling into other people’s business.”

Sukuna, however, found the situation equally humorous. “Don’t worry. We both are entertained.”

Making a spectacle of Satoru’s personal life? No wonder they ended up together. They were both pieces of shit.

Before Satoru turned on his heels to follow Akemi, Sera still had one last thing to say to him. This time, she was more calm and less malicious—her eyes following Akemi’s trail before looking back at him, “Satoru, if you have truly grown as a man, you won’t do this to Y/N.”

——

Sachiro was fast asleep when they returned to the Gojou clan's vacation home.

Meanwhile, since the night was young for the two adults in that house, Akemi and Satoru shared a passionate session in the living room downstairs, letting her ride him as he placed soft kisses on her collarbone. They tried to keep quiet, obviously, and all the lights were turned off, leaving only the moonlight illuminating their view. After a few more minutes into their lovemaking, they eventually met their climax and tried to catch each other’s breath, embracing her in his arms as she fell limp against him.

“Satoru, I missed you a lot while you were gone.”

“...Same.”

Silence engulfed them for some time until she let out an exasperated sigh. It was clear in her facial expressions alone that she was pondering about the whole scene with Sera earlier. “That girl earlier, Sera, she—”

“Don’t mind her.” Gojou closed his eyes and leaned his head against the backrest. He knew he had to clear things up straightforwardly, leaving no room for any misunderstandings. “She just loves riling people up. It’s ironic she’s coming at Y/N’s defense now like she didn’t torment her back then. She’s not worth paying attention to.”

“Okay.” Akemi pulled away, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. She also offered him an angelic smile while doing so. “But you don’t feel that way anymore, right? For Y/N?”

Satoru took a deep breath, but steadied the movements of his chest. He felt defensive all of a sudden. “No.”

Her smile grew more relaxed as she pressed a light peck on his lips. “Right.” And for a while, they both stayed silent. His thoughts ran straight to you, while hers was quite on a different route. “Earlier when I put Sachiro to bed, he called me his mama.”

His eyes widened. “Oh… he did?”

She answered with a nod. “I don’t know if he’s just half asleep calling for his real mommy, but… At that moment, it made me realize how much I want to have my own,” she hinted at him, wistfully staring at his blue eyes with her shining ones, “with you.”

——

You didn’t take the flight back to Tokyo.

What you took was an immediate flight straight to Osaka where you knew your son and your ex-husband would be. You weren’t sure if it was due to the height of your emotions, but you surely let your impulse win the best of you this time.

You just wanted to escape. It was for the first time in your life where you were dying to set yourself free from Toji’s presence, the very same person who you once likened to a buoy in an open sea. Now he was no longer that. He was far from that. He was an anchor pulling you down at the deepest part of the ocean. Needless to say, the pain was still fresh from your heart when you took the earliest flight back home after his drunken confession to you.

Despite the many missed calls and texts and emails he had sent you, none of them were returned. None of them were seen, or read, or had been replied to.

All you wanted to do was get to your son. Your son. Your only comfort from all the painful things that the world has thrown at you. If not for Sachiro, you would have long ended yourself. But because he was born in this world, because he relied on his mother for love and guidance, you had to be strong and you had to seek the comfort in your heart from him.

They could all turn their backs on you, but never will your son do.

And so, after a few back-and-forth emails with Miwa to confirm the address of Satoru’s residence in Osaka, you ignored the jetlag that was hitting your body and traveled straight to his place without a wink of decent sleep. Sachiro. Sachiro was all you ever thought of when you asked your driver to drop you off the park nearby the Gojou clan's residence as soon as you spotted your son's mop of white hair, him running across the small bridge and pointing towards a fish in the pond. Your son was happily calling all the fishes, gushing about them to Satoru who stood next to him.

You didn’t even care at how you looked during that moment. You just wanted to get to your son and embrace him in your arms. He had been away from you for way too long and you had already grown pale and sick from the separation anxiety that engulfed your heart and mind.

You had to have your son. You had to hold him.

“Sachi!” you called out, a smile present on your face as you made your desperate way towards the bridge. Your son looked at you the moment he had heard your voice, and was already skipping towards you with a bright smile on his face. “My baby!”

Satoru’s face, on the other hand, turned pallid. His eyes were full of surprise, unable to believe that you were actually right in front of him. It was like he had seen a ghost. No, worse than a ghost. Why? Did he not expect you to come when he had let Miwa send the address to you? Were you not welcome to visit your own son?

“Mamaaa!” Sachiro hugged you tightly, allowing you to attack his cute face with kisses all over.

“Mommy missed you so much, my baby.” You could almost cry. As young as he was, he had no idea how much comfort he was bringing into your heart. Just to be able to see him, hold him, kiss him was enough for you to feel complete again. It was at your brokenness did you realize how much Sachiro could fix you whole.

“Y/N, I thought you…” Satoru paused, confusion seemed to be settling on his features as you looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be back by Monday.”

For a moment, you were reminded of the reason you came home earlier than intended and it stung your heart to think about. “Change of plans.”

A small scoff left his lips. “Don’t tell me you left Toji back there.”

I did, you wanted to say. Satoru had no single idea how true his words were, but that was none of his business and you had no plans of confiding in him about what had happened. You may be angry with Toji now, but you still respected him enough not to do terrible things behind his back.

“I had to see my son,” you lied, although it wasn’t exactly one, and got up while holding your toddler’s hand. “Are you ready to go home with mommy, Sachi?”

Reluctance clouded your son’s face, and he became more resolute at shaking his head the moment a woman’s voice called for him from afar. A woman, a very, painfully familiar woman came into view a few meters away from you. Standing there was your best friend, Akemi Hirai, looking at you with wide, mortified eyes as soon as she saw your presence.

And in a snap, Sachiro ran to her. Your son ran straight to her, joyfully and excitedly as if she was his real mother.

How many more heartbreaks do you have to go through?

How many more tears do you have to hold back?

“I…” Your hands were shaking. Your entire body was on the verge of breaking down. All this time, your son had been in this vacation home living like a happy little family with your ex-husband and best friend.

Now, he even refused to go home with you.

Gojou scanned through the look on your eyes as though he was reading your emotions, but you showed none of it. Not a single emotion could be seen on your face. Not an ounce of pain shown, despite seeing how your son immediately forgot about you and headed straight to another woman. How excited he was to spend more time with his dad and his new girlfriend. How, much to your discomfort, he refused to go back to Tokyo with you. You saw the future family Sachiro was about to have without you in the picture, and damn did it hit you like a truck.

Why, why did everyone in your life choose others before you?

“I’m sorry. I’ll bring him to your house Monday morning,” said your ex-husband in a soft, delicate voice, almost as if he was being careful with you. “We’ll take care of him.”

You could simply nod, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the vicinity except for Satoru. “Okay...” you struggled with words. Your entire body was shaking. The last thing you wanted was to sound like a selfish mother, but frankly, you were about to self-destruct. “Just keep him happy… that's all I ask.”

Behind your mask of indifference, Satoru knew what right words had to be said. You needed reassurance, and that was exactly what he gave you. “I won’t ever take him away from you, Y/N. I promise.”

You watched them walk away, leaving you alone with a look of sympathy that you didn’t need. Sympathy that you despised having received. This should serve as a wake up call to you that no one in this world would ever love you. That even your own child would, one day, abandon you.

As tears fell from your eyes, you felt a certain pang on your chest that hurt worse than every other pain combined. “You know you’re not so good with promises, Satoru.”

#series: sincerely yours #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo angst #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x yn

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8siangemini · 11 months

Text

I’d Choose Her (Earth 42 Miles Morales x Spiderwoman!Reader)

Summary: After continuing both you and Miles’ duties as the Prowler and Spider-Woman and keeping everything balanced between you two Miles gets an employer that already has a trap set in stone to trap in the person who he has to kill. All he has to do is commit the murder. But his employer did not tell him who their victim is to prevent any biases the Prowler may have. He did not have any biases except when it came to his lady.

Word Count: 1.8K

WARNINGS: None :)

Author’s Note: I still have Earth 42 Miles brain rot in my brain so here is some more stuff to scratch at that lol

You were laying in Miles’ bed on your phone with Miles’ arms wrapped around your waist with his chest pressed against your back. He was lightly snoring into your neck but you tried your best not to laugh due to his breath tickling your neck. After taking multiple videos of him peacefully asleep you check the time and it is almost 9 at night.

You carefully turn around to face Miles and begin planting light kisses around his face. With each kiss his face contorts and changes until his eyes blink slowly open. His eyes stayed slender and slim as you stared at him until you planted a kiss onto his lips. You pull away a little bit until he comes up to you and kisses you again with a light smile.

“Hola mami.” He said in a lowly raspy voice which always made you weak at the knees.

“Hola mi amor.” You respond with a smile which he returns until he plops his head back onto the pillow, still keeping eye contact with you. “It’s almost 9.” You say.

He groans until he brings you in closer so his face is nuzzled into your chest which caused you to chuckle.

“Come on I have to do patrol and you have that thing with your new employer.” You say as you kiss the top of his braids.

He groans into your chest until he finally sits upright and turns his head back and forth to crack his neck. You stared at his bare toned back for awhile as you laid down and began rubbing his back with your palms and tracing his back muscles with your nails. He relaxed to your touch until you began getting up too.

You walked over to your overnight bag you brought and started taking off your hoodie and sweatpants to reveal your black and white Spider-Woman suit. Miles began getting up from the bed to stand behind you and place his hands on your waist to give you a kiss on the nape of your neck.

He began putting on his Prowler suit and you had to admit you found him really good looking in the suit. You could stare at him all day if you could. You snap out of your daydream as you begin putting on your all black Jordan 12’s.

“Is it a little weird how your employer dude said he already has a trap set in place for your victim yet he hasn’t told you how it works or who the victim is until the day of your kill?” You ask Miles as he puts on his back gear.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing ma.” Miles replied. “Like since I’m the one that actually doing the killing shouldn’t I know the plan?”

“Exactly.” You reply.

You begin heading towards the window and begin opening it up. You turn around and see that Miles is all ready to go. You two quickly kiss each other on the lips, smile, and put your guys’ mask on.

“Be safe, yo te amo.” (I love you) You say.

“I’ll try and make this thing quick but be back by 11:30 or else I’m gonna be looking for you.” Miles says through the distorted voice. “Yo te amo mas.”

You head towards the window, looking back and forth to make sure no one is around, and shoot your web to the building across the street. While mid air you scan the empty street and give Miles a quick thumbs up before you turn around and see Miles dropping down to the ground with no sound.

----

You are almost at the end of your patrol route which is a quick check of the alleys in the more sketchy area of Brooklyn. You always tried to make this last part of your patrols quick because you wanted to make it out alive from your nightly patrols.

You swing through the last alleyway on the area which you know by the back of your hand but then you did not realize until you were already in it that there was a clear netting in front of you. The momentum of your swinging and the collision of the netting had caused you to get tangled in the large net as you fell from about 20 feet.

“Fuck.” You say under your breath.

Your spidey senses begin to tingle and you quickly turn around and see someone coming closer towards you. You tried to tear through the net but the man had already threw you over your shoulder like you were toys in Santa’s bag. You kept on trying to squirm out of the grip of the man but he began walking over to a car parked around the corner and threw you into the trunk.

“You son of a-” You began to yell until the man held a piece of cloth over your nose and mouth and soon you fell asleep.

----

Your eyes blink open and you feel a blanket thrown over your whole body. You tried not to move as much because you could feel that there were people in the room watching your every move. Just one sign of disobidience and your life could be taken away, you knew you had to be careful with what you do.

“Here she is.” Two new people came into the room. The man spoke in a low raspy voice, slightly sounding like a creep.

The cool air finally hit your body when the blanket was pulled off of you. There were three body guards behind you but your eyes widened and heart dropped when you realized who was in front of your, the Prowler, Miles. You knew Miles’ eyes widened underneath the mask. You were Miles’ unknown victim. But you knew how strong the connection and loyalty you and Miles had so in the end you were confident that you would make it out of here alive, you were even cocky.

The three bodyguards left the room and closed the door behind them, leaving you, the Prowler, and the employer alone. The employer next to Miles rubbed his hands together and laughed softly.

“I’ve finally done it.” He congratulated himself. “I’m going to get my 900k.” He snickered. To be honest you had forgotten there was still a bounty on your head especially after Miles completely abandoned that mission once he found out your identity.

You slouched down in your seat and let out a loud and clear yawn through your mask. The employer guy looked at you in confusion and disgust. You did feel cocky in this situation but you were very confident in what Miles’ choice was.

“What are you yawning about?” The man’s ego was bruised. “You are about to be killed! There’s no way out of here!” The man came closer to you and placed his hand on the back of the chair and leaned it back a little so you were looking up at him.

“Aww was your ego bruised just by my yawning?” You teased which was pissing him off. “But nah I’m pretty sure I’ll make it out of here alive, I feel safe even!” You say in a preppy tone.

The man turned to look at the Prowler as he went around you to stand behind you. He gripped onto both of your shoulder tightly causing you to wince. Miles looked at the two of you with nothing to say.

“Go on!” The man yelled into your ear. “KILL HER!” He roughly gripped onto your face to point towards Miles.

That was the last straw for him. He quickly dashed towards you two and gave a hard punch to the man next to your face, knocking him down to his ass. He held his face as he looked up at Miles in anger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He yelled. “Kill her!”

“You touched her.” Miles distorted voice said as he slowly walked closer and closer to the man.

“What?” The man asked in anger. “If you let her live you won’t get that 400k I promised you.” The man said cockily, thinking Miles was going to choose money over you.

Miles grabs the man’s face by his clawed hand and held him up. His feet began to dangle as he held onto Miles’ hand trying to prevent him from choking.

“I’d choose her.” Miles said until he looked over at you. “Turn away mi amor.” He instructed. You turned your head away from the scene and heard a loud thud from behind you, the body dropping.

Miles came into your line of sight and his mask started to unveil his handsome face. He gently lifted your mask to reveal your mouth and nose and a smile came to your face. He bent down to you and began untying you from the ropes.

“Don’t turn around.” He reaffirmed.

No matter how violent your duty as Spider-Woman can get Miles always tried his best to keep anything violent from his job away from you. You loved how even though his job was violent he never would let you see the things he had seen. He did not want you to be scared and traumatized by something so gruesome, he wanted to protect you from anything and everything even if you had seen some stuff from your duty as Spider-Woman.

He offers his hand to you and you take it has he helps you up from your seat.

“I’d always choose you.” He said as he gave you a a deep kiss on the lips with his left hand on your waist.

Once you two drew away you pulled down your mask and his mask began to hide his face again. You two were about to exit the room until you remember there are still the bodyguards outside. You stop Miles by placing a hand on his chest and he stops all of his movements. You turn to him with a smile underneath your mask.

“Now let me do this part.” You say and he backs away with a hand extended towards the door, allowing you to go first.

You walk backwards away from the door and shoot two webs at the top of the door. You swing through, breaking the door, causing the three bodyguards to duck down quickly. You plant yourself on the top corner of the hallway and shoot webs at one of the guard’s shoulders and plant a hard kick to their face, knocking them out. You’re on the ground sitting on your heels back near the open door and you shoot one web at one of the bodyguards and another on the other.

You yank them together as the headbutt each other, knocking each other out. All three bodyguards knocked down in a pile as you turn around to face Miles again. You stick out your hand to him.

“Ready to go?” You ask him and he nods, taking your hand in his.

As Miles walks out of the room you walk on top of the pile of men while Miles guides you two out of the abandonded building. You two walk out of the building hand in hand. Ironic, Brooklyn’s most feared villain saving Brooklyn’s hero and walking out hand in hand.

#spiderman spoilers #spiderman #spider man #spider man across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles

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skzdarlings · 1 year

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02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder. Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing.

The noise is not why you are still awake. Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt.

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived. You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone. Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started.

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience. Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry. You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control. You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him. He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t let yourself cry. Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that.

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain. You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho. The rain is coming down pretty hard. You hope he gets back soon. Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside. He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour. You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out. The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following. It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched.

He turns abruptly, looking right at you. There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back. An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you. I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think. The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall. Your heart pounds. That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides. You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights. Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent.

You exhale. It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns. You hear him moving about in the dark. You lay straight as a board, your back to him.

You stare through the dark at nothing. You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You just breathe.

Minho climbs into the bed. It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company. He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt. He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down. It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe.

The rain has slowed. It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense. It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating. You swallow.

The argument was your fault. Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault. You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure. You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry. No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask. Hug me, hold me, help me. You don’t know how to ask for the things you want. So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over. You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind. He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second. Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face. You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that shit. I don’t even know why we were fighting. Just call it my fault, okay? I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”

He is trying to joke with you. His friendliness is what gets you. Even after everything, he is still so good to you.

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying. It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it. Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you.

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back. He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry. Take a free slap.” He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it.

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears.

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.”

Understanding fills his expression. You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest. He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt. You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing. You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say. Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now. “I know it was stupid and it made you mad. I just felt like I was gonna explode.”

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you. That’s why you did it. Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone. His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back.

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute. “I was just worried. And…”

You peek up at him. He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard.

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly.

“Jealous,” you say. “Of me?”

“Yes.” He gives you a very sarcastic look. “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no. Obviously not of you. Why do you always torture me like this? Go cry on the floor.” He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him.

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder. Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying. Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy. It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks.

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly. “We didn’t do anything. He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering. It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”

“Minho.” You slap his chest. His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission. You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth. “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze. You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.

“No,” he says. “No. You’re just saying that to bully me. I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet. “Ahhhhhhh. I should be shot!”

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line.

“Well.” You burst into laughter all over again. “Maybe just a little!”

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you. Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin.

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail. He just grins and continues his attack.

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed. You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too. Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you. You are both out of breath, both smiling. His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push.

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense. But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before. It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.

You do not push him away. You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull. His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head. He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed. Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them. He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“Wow,” you say softly. You look at him. His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke. You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers. “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that.

“Oh,” he says. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm. He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist. You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much. “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say. “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows.

“Garlic?” he asks. “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting. “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says. “Sure, okay, let’s play. I made you cry. I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips. Then he abruptly pulls away. He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows. He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Hmm?” He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one. “What? I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason. Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”

“Ahhh, I hate you!” You flop back down, covering your face with your hands.

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs. He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on. He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.

You hear the rustle of fabric. Curious, you peek between your fingers. Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips. That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling. Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten.

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly. “Your turn.” He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers. “Come on. Hurry up.”

Your brain has short-circuited. It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it. You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him. You are checking each other out, looking up and down. Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open.

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there.

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you.

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.” He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp. Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours. His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you. “So,” he says. “What else then?”

“Oh.” You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you. “Um. Well. Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—”

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh. He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too.

“Okay,” he says. “Garlic and driving in reverse. I’m learning so much.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“That would be very rude,” he says. “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.”

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest. You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho. By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.

You don’t even have time to overthink. The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.

You will figure things out. You always do. Right now, you let yourself lose control. You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you. You trust him completely. Surrender is easy.

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor. He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder. He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs. When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place.

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre. Again, your fingers find his hair. He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously. Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task. It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back. He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge. Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite.

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts.

You playfully cuff the side of his head.

“That good?” he continues to tease.

You roll your eyes but smile. You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked. Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say. You look down at the same time as him. A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants. “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says. “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.”

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh. You roll over to rest your head on his chest. His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back. You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass. You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came. “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.”

Minho came from eating you out. Of course you think it’s hot.

And of course he has to be Minho about it.

“Okay,” he says. “Garlic. Driving in reverse. Premature ejaculation. Uptight was definitely the wrong word. I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!” You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke.

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind. This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times. All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper.

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader

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calder · 2 months

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In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

#dogmeat #v13 #meta #companions #animal death t

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harrywavycurly · 3 months

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Summary: You’re a cheerleader at Hawkins High School and somehow you’ve gotten yourself into a relationship with Eddie Munson, the school’s main “bad boy”. From the beginning Eddie has made sure you’re aware that the two of you won’t ever be seen in public together because he has a reputation to uphold. For a while it doesn’t bother you because in your eyes your relationship with Eddie is just a fun fling and the sneaking around is kind of exciting. But everything changes when the two of you end up at the same party and Eddie gets a glance at what it’s like when he’s not around you and he doesn’t like it, more importantly he doesn’t like the attention you get from others. After that night Eddie starts to wonder if his feelings for you are more serious than just a fun fling or if he wants something more and it’s time for the two of you stop meeting in secret.

Type of Story: Secret Romance, Friends to lovers and cheerleader!reader x Eddie Munson

Inspiration: This idea came from this post right here

Status: Ongoing

Tag list: Open

Instagrams: Here

Conversations: here

Extras: Here

*This is mainly a texting fic but you’ll find everything down below in the correct order*

Part 1: Rules

Part 2: Pointless

Part 3: Crush bonus convo between you and Chrissy here

Part 4: Late

Part 5: Never Again

Part 6: Cheer Shit bonus convo between Eddie and Gareth here

Part 7: Leader

Part 8: Miss You?

Part 9: Hank

Part 10: Not Red

Part 11: Let Me Go

Part 12: Convenient

Part 13: A Feeling

Part 14: Regret It

Part 15: Girl Code

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help-itrappedmyself · 1 month

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Dead on Main Part 9

My apology for the earlier mishap. Hope you like it!

Masterpost

A few hours later, a fourth of the way home, they start arguing about who should drive the next shift. There seem to be two main arguments. The first is between Dick and Bruce on whether Bruce even needs a break.The second is between Dick and Tim about who should take over for Bruce.

Bruce has been driving for four hours, and it’s now about midnight, so he should take a break to sleep. Dick had napped for about an hour after the panicked stop when Jason’s ectoplasm had gone haywire, and he was the only one who had slept so far. He’s winning the argument between him and Bruce. Because he was the only one who had napped so far, and apparently Tim had been awake for a terrible amount of time, Dick is also winning the argument between him and Tim.

Danny is pretty sure even sleep deprived most people would drive better than his father, and he doesn’t have a driver’s license so he keeps quiet. It’s funny how intense they get in their arguments without ever becoming serious. Danny appreciates that no matter how intense they get there’s never any anger in their voices.

“Tim, you haven’t slept more than five hours in the last two days, you are not driving this car. There is no way you are driving this car. Neither of us are going to let you.”

“Bruce has been awake for 23 hours straight!” Tim argues.

“Which is why Bruce should also not be driving anymore!”

“Tim you are definitely not driving, go to sleep. Dick, If we switch drivers we have to stop and we can’t afford to stop and waste time. We’ll switch drivers when we need gas next.” Bruce states rationally. Danny thinks this is a good argument really.

“If we crash and die we’ll also waste time.” Tim points out, sulking.

“Switching drivers will take all of two seconds and so help me If I am not driving in the next two minutes I am commandeering the radio for the rest of the trip and you know neither of you will be able to stop me.”

Danny isn’t sure why that is so serious of a threat, but that shut both Bruce and Tim up immediately. Bruce pulls over and they do a quick seating change. Since Bruce and Tim need to sleep so one of them can drive later, Danny switches into the passenger seat while Dick slips into the driver's seat. That way Bruce and Tim can stretch out in the back.

“What do you listen to that they dislike so much?” Danny asks a little later. Danny can’t tell if either of them are sleeping, but neither of them have moved at all in the last ten minutes. He’s quiet just in case.

“I mean, I like a lot of music. They just know that I can put on circus music for hours. I grew up in a circus, so I'll even enjoy doing it. It annoys them after like three songs at most though.”

Danny has a moment where all he can think of is Freakshow’s circus, but he shakes it off.

“Did all of you grow up in the circus?” Danny could have sworn Bruce was more like Vlad. Grew up wealthy, ran a business (less illegally, he thinks, but that's not hard considering), and went to parties and stuff. Dick laughs at his question.

“No, only me, I’m afraid.” Dick glances at the back seat, before refocusing on the road. “Bruce adopted all of us, except for Damian. But even Damian grew up with his mother before coming to live with Bruce. So all of us have very different upbringings actually. Circus for me. Jason was next, he had a hard life before Bruce found him, and after too. He’s been through a lot. Tim had rich parents, they loved him but weren't around much. Duke was adopted after his parents died but he was raised by both of them, he had the most normal life growing up.”

“Tim and Damian both found Bruce more than the other way around. Damian’s mom… loves him a lot, but she was in a dangerous situation and wanted Damian to be safe. So she dropped him off with us.” You could hear the love in Dick’s voice as he spoke about his family.

“Your family seems happy. Nice. I mean, you all dropped everything to drive me home. I appreciate it.” Danny thought carefully for a moment, he didn't want to learn too much second hand. He'd rather get to know Jason personally. But some things only family can tell you. “Do you think Jason and I will get along? From what I've heard I know we have similar senses of humor, at least relating to our own deaths. And, well, we have that experience to bond over. But our lives seem like they've been very different.”

Dick’s face softens. “I think that Jason has spent his whole life fighting. For anything and everything. He's not going to stop now. You guys’ll figure it out.”

Danny looks at him. “Have you met your soulmate?”

Dick’s whole face lights up. “I have. We knew each other before the switch, but.. it was still a lot of drama and awkwardness at first. I think Bruce almost had a heart attack when it happened, and then an aneurysm when he found out who it was. That was hilarious.”

Dick glances at Danny, saw him biting his lip and twisting his hands together, eyes in his lap. “We had met, but we still had a lot to learn about each other. Getting to know him has been one of the best parts of my life. He’s my best friend.”

Dick reaches over and ruffles Danny’s hair. “Why don't you try to sleep Danny. You'll be meeting him soon.”

Danny nodded, giving Dick a light smile and settling himself into his chair.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dead on main #soulmate au #fanfiction #my writing #danny phantom #jason todd

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bunny-queen · 1 month

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3d vs 4d

This is one of the big epiphanies I've had recently, and it's going to sound questionable. Or not. Ig many other LOA blogs have thought of this before but I'm still figuring out the logic of things lmfao

nothing you do in the 3D has any impact whatsoever. It has no consequences. Nothing comes out of it, good or bad.

YOU CAN'T CHANGE THE 3D BY ACTING IN THE 3D

babes, the 3d is dead. Like legit. It's a fire gone out, you can't do anything with it. It holds no power, none whatsoever

That might seem daunting at first, but it's actually freeing: it doesn't matter!!! It doesn't matter if you saw bad grades on your last few exams, it doesn't matter what the reflection in the mirror is like, it's DEAD!!!!!

Even more, you don't have to force yourself to do anything you dislike out of hope of changing your circumstances: you don't have to study 9 hours a day, you don't have to workout religiously, you don't have to diet, because nothing done in the 3D has consequences to the REAL world

Which, finally means, that ALL CHANGE must be achieved in the 4d

Aka in your mind

Now's the part where you cry from joy and say "oh my god I'm so relieved" bc baby changing things in your mind is literally the easiest thing in the world

Going through class after class thinking "no I can't sleep I need to study more" is depressing, so instead of it you can retreat to your mind and tell yourself all you want to hear

"I've already passed my exams"

"My past grades were all A's"

"I am the perfect student"

And that's it. It's done. The minute you tell yourself these things, you've done not only everything you could—you've done everything you HAD to

You don't need to do anything in the 3d

You've changed your perception of things and now your outer world will reflect it

By retreating into your mind and telling yourself all you want to hear, you are effectively shaping your reality

And there are NO bad consequences associated with it, unless you think there are

Meaning; you won't fail your exams bc instead of studying you meditated and changed your state

...except if you obsess over that possibility and give it power

Then it might happens

But if it does, no panic, continue denying everything you don't like about the 3d, and it is BOUND to change

Nothing's ever a lost cause, nothing's set in stone

You are safe from everything in your mind

Your only job is to change your inner world. That's it

#law of assumption #manifesting #loassumption #loa tumblr #shiftblr #shifting #loa blog

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sluttywoozi · 2 months

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Adore You Part IV | kmg x f!reader

I'd walk through fire for you, Just let me adore you

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.7k | Pairing: kmg x f!reader | Genre: romance, smut

Life has changed a lot in the past two and a half years, and it's about to change even more, but Mingyu knows he can do anything with his CEO by his side.

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, oral f. rec., piv sex, slight impreg kink, creampie, aftercare, talk of food/eating/diet changes, talk of babies and pregnancy, they are trying to have a baby and i wanted it to be a surprise but i had to warn yall so just pretend you didn’t know, they’re so in love, crying so much crying, mingyu is good at everything so he’s a carpenter too, feat. seokmin as the replacement assistant (mingyu has one sided beef w him)

Reader Notes: she/her pronouns, has vagina and breasts, can get pregnant, still a boss bitch, gets carried by mingyu, same age as mingyu for one line only so you can pretend otherwise if you so desire

Mingyu wakes to early morning sunlight warming his exposed skin. The duvet has been kicked to the end of the bed, the sheets tangled up between your legs and his. He’s not cold so he knows you aren’t either, not with his chest flush to your back and his arms wrapped around you. He assumes one of you must have gotten too hot, hence the discarded duvet, and reaches down to pull at the sheet, knowing you still like to be covered up even when you’re warm.

You stir at his movements, your legs shifting as a soft hum escapes you, and he freezes, holding his breath until he’s sure you’re still sleeping. You need as much rest as you can get, though Mingyu does love the mornings where you both wake up early and chat until it’s time for you to get ready for work.

This won’t be one of them, as there’s only twenty minutes left before you need to wake up, but Mingyu is alright with that. It means he has some extra time to think, to relax, to soak you in. You’re only apart for nine hours a day, but he misses you in those nine hours, misses your soothing presence and your smart comments and your sweet kisses.

He fills that time with working out, cooking, cleaning, running errands, and working on various projects around the apartment. You own the unit, so he’s free to paint and put holes in the walls, and almost every week, he has something new to show you.

It doesn’t make him miss you any less but it does make the time without you go faster, and whenever he starts to feel down about not being your assistant anymore, he reminds himself he’d rather be your 5 PM to 9 AM than your 9 AM to 5 PM. That always helps, knowing he’s the home you come back to.

It doesn’t remove the sour taste he gets in his mouth when he starts thinking about his replacement, though. Seokmin isn’t the worst, but he’s not the best (not like Mingyu is), and it doesn’t help that Mingyu always feels as if Seokmin resents him for his place in your life. He’s not sure if Seokmin is jealous, or if he thinks Mingyu is a distraction, or maybe he even feels like he’ll never be able to fill Mingyu’s shoes.

Mingyu is taller, and his feet are bigger, and he was a better personal assistant, but it’s been two years since he resigned and he’s not giving up this life for anything. Not when it means he gets to be with you like this, gets to wake up with your body aligned with his, gets to spend his days working to make the life you share even better, gets to welcome you home with open arms and a hot meal and a mouth begging for a kiss.

This is what Mingyu dreamed of but never believed he could have, and nothing in this world could tear him apart from you.

Nothing except for your alarm, at least.

He feels more than hears you groan as your phone vibrates on your nightstand, the incessant buzzing loud against the stark quiet of the bedroom. You reach out and feel around blindly, your eyes still likely closed, until you locate the obtrusive device, pulling it toward you and tapping until the noise stops.

You sigh and burrow deeper into his chest, and Mingyu feels his heart swell so big, he swears it’s about to burst out of his ribcage. He holds you tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, and contemplates begging you to take a sick day. You could just stay in bed with him, waste the sunlight talking and kissing and making love until your stomachs remind you that sustenance is required.

You start to shift out of his arms before he can open his mouth to ask, your work ethic and indomitable need to get shit done preventing you from having a lay in. He holds back the pout and releases you, hugging the sheet to his chest when your warmth leaves him and watching as you start to amble toward the bathroom to get ready.

You stop like you’ve forgotten something, and Mingyu supposes you have because you turn around and come back, setting one knee on the bed and leaning over him.

“Morning,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his, the both of you far past caring about stale breath. He kisses you back, cupping your cheek to hold you to him, moaning petulantly when you pull away.

“I have to go take a shower,” you murmur apologetically, smooching him what you think is one last time before climbing off the bed. He reaches out, catches your hand, and asks, “Can I come with you? I could drive you to work today.”

You bite your lip, considering it, and check your watch to see if you have enough time. You usually use public transport but if he takes you, you wouldn’t need the twenty minute cushion you normally give yourself just in case of breakdowns or traffic. He’ll also get to hold your hand in the car and sing you love songs, which he always adores doing.

“Okay, but we can’t get too distracted. I’ll set another alarm,” you concede, tugging him by the hand you hold. He grins triumphantly, sitting up and scooching to the edge of the bed before standing and raising his arms in a deep stretch. One of them only goes so far, still attached to you, but the other reaches high above his head, his spine popping and cracking as it elongates.

You make a face at the sounds and he just chuckles softly, “Hey, you have to love every part of me, even my height induced back issues.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him toward the en suite, replying, “I do love every part of you, old man, even your height induced back issues.”

“Baby, we’re the same age!”

You don’t respond but he sees your head shake and imagines the fond smile you must be wearing, squeezing your hand and waiting for a squeeze back. It comes before you let him go completely to turn on the shower and start undressing, your pajama tank going first.

You’re wearing nothing under it and Mingyu is entranced instantly, too distracted watching your breasts move as you push your shorts down to take his own clothes off. He’s only got boxers on anyway, though they’re slowly becoming tented the longer he stares at you.

Used to his open admiration by now, you just toss your clothes in the hamper and step into the shower, kindly leaving the door open for him even though all the built up steam is escaping. The absence of you shakes him from his stupor, and distractedly, he slides down his boxers, letting out a quiet hiss at the feeling of the warm, damp air on his hardening cock.

He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing just outside the shower, his eyes caught on your form as water glides over your curves. You’re washing your body, suds drifting along your tits and down your stomach, and Mingyu is so, so gone for you.

“Any day now, honey,” you call, glancing towards him and jumping, likely not expecting him to be standing there just staring at you. He steps over the ledge, feeling the change in air temperature immediately, and crowds in close to you, his form blocking most of the water.

“Can I make you cum? Please?” He asks raggedly, needing to feel you on his fingers, his tongue, his dick, anything.

“I don’t know if we have enough time,” you say as you take a step back from him, your hands on his chest and your eyes reluctant.

“I can be quick,” he promises, though he’s not actually sure he can. Yes, he’s got giving you pleasure down to a science by now, but there’s something about this morning that makes him want to linger.

You think for a second, before deciding potentially being late is worth it and saying, “Okay, but just once.”

That might be a bit difficult too, but he’ll do his best to respect your wishes, no matter how much he loves making you fall apart over and over again. He nods solemnly and starts walking forward, his hands latching onto your hips as he presses you up against the heated shower wall. Sinking to his knees, he takes hold of one of your thighs, pulling it up to rest on his shoulder before deciding he needs more room and pushing it up and to the side.

He can make you cum with one hand anyway, and he likes having you all spread out for him like this, likes the way the lips of your pussy part to show your folds, your clit shrouded in its hood and your entrance already shining with arousal.

He doesn’t waste any time, knows it’s precious, licking into you just to spread your wetness before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, groaning at your taste. The fingers of his free hand glide up your inner thigh, pinching and rubbing and digging into your flesh before they reach your weeping cunt.

He sinks in one first, pumping it in and out, curling on every other stroke as his tongue taps at your clit, his lips still pursed tight around it. You shiver above him and let one hand fall to his head, your fingers delving into his wet hair when he adds another, crooking them towards your belly and feeling for that erogenous patch inside of you.

You sigh his name when he finds it, a long, drawn out sound that makes his heart race and his dick twitch, and he thanks you with a hard pulse of his lips and a grind of his fingertips. That makes you buck into his face, starting a seemingly endless loop of him groaning around your clit and you fucking yourself on his fingers.

He feels like he’s touching heaven, like he’s carving a masterpiece out of immaculate marble, like he’s dipping his fingers into the pools of Elysium every single time he gets his hands on you, and that’s something he knows will never change.

Something else that will never change is how much he loves to make you cum, though he prefers to take his time and give you as many as you can handle. But you said once, and Mingyu is nothing if not a good listener.

He’ll just have to make this one really count, make it good enough to last you both the whole day, or at least the next nine hours.

So he doubles his efforts, sucking at your clit deeply enough that his cheeks hollow and hooking his fingertips into your g-spot before grinding into it roughly, jerking his hand back and forth until your fingers clench in his hair and your cries ring in his ears.

He helps you ride it out, fighting back a grin at the way your hips move with him and fighting back a frown when you pant, “I have to… I have to get ready for work now.”

He supposes this is what he gets for marrying a CEO.

Mingyu is halfway home when he realizes you forgot to take your lunch.

He contemplates grabbing it and bringing it to you immediately, but decides he’ll bring it for your lunch hour instead, hoping he can stay and chat with you.

When he gets back to the apartment, he sets to work, going straight to the spare bedroom he’s made into a work room. He keeps it relatively organized - paints and tools on one wall, plans pinned to the corkboard on the other - even though he’s the only one who ever sees it.

You tend to stay out, not because he’s asked you to, but because you want him to have his own space, especially since he moved in with you. He had to give up some things he loved, like his favorite pizza place that doesn’t deliver to this part of town, and the corner store he bought all of his car magazines from, and, worst of all, lovely interactions with his neighbor’s dog, Belle.

He hardly misses any of it, now that he’s established this life with you.

It hasn’t been long since you got married, just under eleven months, but ever since you slid that ring onto his finger, Mingyu has known that this is what he was made for. He was made to be your husband, to take care of you, to make you happy, to keep you safe. He was made to love you, and fuck, he does.

More than he ever thought possible, to be honest.

He doesn’t know how he made it six whole months as your executive assistant after that day in your office, and he really doesn’t know how you both managed to hide the relationship for so long. Sure, it didn’t start as a relationship, but it evolved into one pretty quickly, and he remembers just how difficult it was to keep from kissing you every single time you called him in.

When you realized how serious things had become, he knew things would have to change. He couldn’t keep working for you if he wanted to marry you too, so as soon as you told him that was something that’s been on your mind, he tendered his letter of resignation and ended his lease.

He moved in with you two weeks later, on his last day, and ended that night by getting down on one knee. You cried, much to his surprise, and darted to your bedroom without a word, returning before he’d even gotten over the shock of you leaving. You kneeled with him, and held out your hand. He was about to offer you his when he noticed the gold band resting in the middle of your palm, which made him sob even harder than you.

The wedding was planned in just under a year, a quiet affair with only your family, friends, and favorite employees/coworkers invited. You were promoted a few months later, when the CEO finally recognized your talent and retired, and now, almost eleven months after he got to marry you, you’re trying for a baby too.

That’s why it’s so important that he gets your lunch to you. Ever since you said you were ready, he’s been feeding you only the best foods for fertility: dark, leafy greens and legumes for folate, lean meats and eggs for B12, low-mercury fish and chia seeds for omega-3s. You’ve adapted to his new menu rather well, and it helps that he’s able to work these foods into recipes you already love.

Today is grilled chicken and garlic roasted kale salad, one of your favorites, and he almost can’t believe you both forgot to grab it before you left. He says almost because he may have spent the time before he drove you to work pestering you for kisses, which led to a makeout session against the door of your apartment. The orgasm and kissing ate up your extra twenty minutes, so you were rushing him out the door, insisting you couldn’t be late.

He knows from experience that it’s not the end of the world if you are, but he also knows that punctuality is paramount to you, especially now that you’re practically running the place. So out the door the both of you went, no lunch bag in sight or in mind.

He stops working long enough to check the time, noting that he has about half an hour before he has to leave for your office. His hands are dirty with wood stain and he has no less than four splinters, but he’s proud of the work he’s done so far. It’s finally coming together, this little project, and he can’t wait to finish and present it to you.

First, he needs to shower again. He’s grown sweaty and stinky in the hours he’s been working, and while he mainly wants to present a nice image as your husband, he also knows he’d get Seokmin’s judgy eyes if he showed up like this.

He rinses off quickly, doing his best not to let his mind wander to what he did to you right here this very morning, before getting dressed and heading to the kitchen. Packing your lunch is easy with the food already cooked, all he has to do is put the glassware in your lunch bag. He skips the little note he usually leaves you, happy to deliver his words of love in person instead, and grabs his keys off the hook by the front door.

The drive to your office is fast and uneventful, only about ten minutes away from the apartment, and Mingyu spends it thinking about potential baby names. He knows what’s at the top of his list and what’s at the top of yours, but he’s not sure you’ll be able to choose one until you actually meet your baby.

Your baby that doesn’t exist yet, Mingyu reminds himself, feeling his heart start to ache when he thinks about how long it could be before you get pregnant.

You’ve only been trying for two months and it could be literal years, or even never, and he’ll just have to be okay with whatever happens. There’s always surrogacy or adoption, too, though he knows you want the experience of growing and carrying your child.

He wants to experience that with you, wants to take you to all of your appointments and buy too many parenting books and sing to your belly every night before bed. But things don’t always work out how you want them to, and Mingyu knows that very well.

His mood is a little dampened when he arrives at your office, though the thought of seeing you brightens him up again. He practically floats through security, the employees recognizing him and letting him pass without much fanfare, before taking the elevator up to the top floor, where your office is now located.

He’s a bit sad you no longer occupy the space you first met in, but he’s also ridiculously proud that you have one of the executive offices. They’re spacious and have automatic doors, wall to wall windows, incredible views of the city skyline, and, best of all, they require special access.

That means not just anyone can get in, which makes Mingyu feel better about leaving you in the hands of Seokmin. The man is putting on muscle, is no longer the scrawny guy he was when he started, but Mingyu is still bigger than him and would have better luck fighting off intruders. He doesn’t anticipate there being any, but ever since you got married, he’s been even more protective over you.

He can’t imagine how he’ll be when you get pregnant, and he can only hope he’ll maintain some sense of normalcy and decorum. It helps that he trusts you to tell him if he grows too overbearing, knows you won’t stand for him doing everything for you, no matter how much he wants to.

You’ll at least let him keep making you all your meals, and he knows that for a fact, as well as he knows that he has to be nice to Seokmin or he’ll surely hear about it later.

It’s difficult to keep the frown off his face when Seokmin tells him you’re working through your lunch hour, though.

“Yeah, sorry, she’s fully booked today. One of the deals started to fall through this morning and she’s had a lot of fires to put out.”

Seokmin sounds remorseful at least, but it doesn’t make him feel any better about the stress you’re under.

“Can I at least bring her her lunch?”

“You can leave it and I’ll take it to her,” Seokmin offers without looking up, his eyes set on his computer and his glasses reflecting the screen.

“No.”

Mingyu doesn’t mean to sound so firm, but he doesn’t trust Seokmin to get it to you in a timely manner, and you need to eat regularly to keep your nutrition up. His tone makes Seokmin’s eyes snap up to meet his, and he can’t say he doesn’t stand a little taller and square his shoulders when he sees the slight tinge of fear in his gaze.

“I’ll bring it to her, please call and let her know I’ll be coming in,” he tries to keep his voice measured this time, adds a please even though it’s not a request, and smiles when Seokmin picks up the phone and says, “Mrs. Kim, your husband is here with your lunch.”

He doesn’t hear how you respond but he does hear the buzz that means the door is opening, and he thanks Seokmin with a tight smile and a nod before walking into your office. His smile turns genuine, a full grin elicited by the look of relief and affection you send him as soon as he appears.

“God, I'm so hungry. Thank you for bringing me my lunch, honey,” you beam gratefully, and Mingyu prays Seokmin hears you as the door closes with a click.

“Of course, baby, you know I could never let you starve,” he ambles over to your desk, handing over your lunch bag and watching attentively as you open it. The meal should be no surprise to you as you were home when he made it, but you still gasp and coo, “My favorite.”

He just grins and asks, “Can I sit or do you have to keep working? I know it’s been a busy day.”

You hum in contemplation, glancing over all of the papers on your desk before deciding, “The company won’t go up in flames if I take a little break.”

So you don’t have to work through lunch, Mingyu thinks smugly as he settles into one of the chairs that sits opposite your desk. He’ll eat later so he talks to you while you dig in, relaying what he’ll be making for dinner and what he proposes you do with your evening - salmon and asparagus with chimichurri, then a movie and a cuddle, then on to the babymaking.

You’re on board with it all, your eyes flashing with heat when he mentions the last part, and as you eat and chat, he does his absolute best to pretend he doesn’t wish you could get to it right now. Unfortunately, when you started dating, you instituted a strict, ‘No fucking at the office,’ rule, and he believes it stands to this day.

When you’ve finished your food, you primly put the lids back on the containers and load them into your lunch bag, which he happily reaches out to take. He loves seeing you enjoy the dishes he makes for you, and he especially loves finding the glassware empty when he unpacks the bag to load the dishwasher.

He knows it’s time for him to leave now, but just like this morning, he wants to linger.

He won’t make you ask him to leave though, being perfectly aware of all the work you have left to do and knowing you can’t do it with him in the room, so he stands and says, “I should get going.”

You sigh and nod, pushing up out of your chair and walking around your desk to escort him to the door. Before he leaves, he leans in for a kiss, pouring all of his love and desire and affection into it and hoping you can feel every emotion. It’s clear you do when you pull away, your eyes reluctant and your lips quirked in a soft smile.

“Bye, honey. I love you, drive safe,” you whisper, petting his chest and taking a step back, as if you’ll kiss him again if you don’t.

“I love you too, baby. I will,” he murmurs, stealing one last peck to tide him over until you come home to him.

Dinner goes smoothly - you love the combination of salmon and chimichurri - and Mingyu has just settled into the couch with you in his arms when it hits him.

“Baby… Weren’t you supposed to get your period last week?”

You freeze against his chest, slowly looking up to find his eyes and breathing, “Oh my god, yeah. I got so used to not having one with the IUD that I didn’t even notice.”

“Should you- I mean, do we have any- Do I need to go get pregnancy tests?” He asks, almost scared to be hopeful.

You press your lips together and look away before returning your gaze to him and saying sheepishly, “I may have already bought a bunch and hidden them in the closet.”

“Perfect, that’s perfect! Do you need to pee? Should you drink more water?” He exclaims with excitement, pulling away from you and taking your hand before rising from the couch.

“Um, no, I’ve had enough water,” you assure him, standing when he starts to tug at your hand.

“Let’s go, then!” He tries to pull you to the bedroom, but you don’t budge. He glances at you over his shoulder, turning completely when he sees the nerve ridden look on your face. Your hand feels a bit clammy in his and your eyes seem shuttered, almost like you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them.

“What’s wrong?”

He thought you’d be as excited as him to take the test, and now that you’re dragging your feet, he’s confused.

“I just… It could be negative, even with my period being late, and I don’t want to get your hopes up and then have you be disappointed,” you say gently, your eyebrows knitted together and your gaze avoiding his.

“Baby, I know it could be negative. But it could also be positive, and that’s enough for me. And even if I am disappointed, it’s not like I’ll be disappointed in you, or like we can’t keep trying,” he wiggles his eyebrows and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and leaning in for a kiss.

You grant it without pause, your lips soft against his and your fingers clenching in his shirt. He pulls away and presses his forehead to yours, breathing, “I love you, no matter what, okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, sounding much more relaxed. “Let’s go take that test. And I love you too.”

With that, he guides you to the main bedroom, stopping by the closet so you can grab a box from your stash. The anticipation has his heart racing as he waits in the bathroom with your hand in his, a timer for three minutes counting down on his phone.

The test lay on a tissue on the center of the counter, currently blank but containing the capacity to change your shared life. You’re both turned away from it, wanting to read the results when you’re sure you’re ready. He swears it’s the longest three minutes of his life, all one hundred and eighty seconds spent in tense, hopeful silence, until the timer hits zero and his phone goes off.

“Do you want to check or should I?” He whispers, squeezing your hand and brushing his thumb over the back to soothe you.

“How about we look together? We can both close our eyes, I’ll grab the test, and then we’ll open them at the same time?”

He nods, nerves at an all time high, and lets his eyelids flutter shut as you do the same. He can hear you patting around for the test, huffs out a humorous breath at the sound of triumph that escapes when you finally find it, and tries to pretend he doesn’t feel like he might die as he waits.

“One, two, three.”

Your eyes go to the test when you open them, but his are stuck on your face, knowing your expression will tell him whether or not it’s negative. He watches the emotions flicker through you, shock appearing first, then incandescent happiness, and when your gaze flies up to meet his, all he sees is pure joy and luminous love.

So what else can he do but burst into tears?

“It’s positive?” He gasps through shuddering sobs, trying to look down at the test to confirm but finding himself unable to see through all of the saltwater in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, it’s positive. We’re having a baby,” you say with a watery beam, setting the test down and reaching out to cup his face and swipe your thumbs under his eyes.

He holds your hands to his cheeks, leans back against the counter for stability when his knees feel like they might give out, and weeps freely. He’s always been open about how much he wanted this with you, wanted to build a life and a family and a home, and now that it’s happening, he almost can’t believe it.

You let him cry, stepping between his spread legs and pulling your hands out from under his to twine your arms around his neck, hugging him tight and hugging him close. He wraps his arms around your waist in a vise-like grip, his tears soaking into the cotton on your shoulder as he whispers, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s not like I could have done it without you, honey,” you remind him, making him laugh and turn his head to kiss your neck. He keeps his lips pressed there for a minute as his tears finally dry up, before pulling back and looking around for the test.

He finds it quickly, his eyes bulging out of his head at the two lines and little digital screen reading ‘pregnant’ as if he didn’t just bawl his heart out about it. Seeing the test makes it real, fills his head with images of you caressing your slowly growing belly, of him reading and singing to your bump, of taking you shopping for maternity business clothes because he knows you won’t let your style suffer for even one day.

He’s excited for all of it, and suddenly, he can’t stand still. There’s just too much to do, too much to buy and build and organize, and thank goodness he’s making good headway on his big project. Creating a safe, secure crib from scratch isn’t easy or quick, but luckily, he should have about nine months left to finish.

“Mingyu, you’re vibrating,” you chuckle, still pressed up against his chest, your fingers playing with his hair and your heart thumping next to his. He squeezes his arms around you and rocks you side to side one, two, three times, before letting go and sliding out from between you and the counter.

“Of course I am, we’re having a baby! Oh, I’m gonna make so many lists,” he grins eagerly, bouncing on his toes and devising titles in his mind.

“I’ll get you a special notebook just for them,” you promise, returning his smile and taking his hand to lead him from the bathroom. “For now, why don’t we relax while we still can?”

Mingyu doesn’t know if he’s capable of relaxing right now, but he’ll try for you. He can go over all the logistics in his mind as the movie plays, and when he settles back into the couch with you in his arms once again, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Mingyu blinks awake to find the TV on screensaver mode and you asleep, still tucked into his chest. The living room is dark, only the light from the kitchen and what filters in through the windows illuminating the room. He checks his watch blearily, doing his best not to disturb you, and sighs in relief when he sees it’s only eleven PM.

As he carefully unravels his arms from around you and climbs off the couch over your dozing form, he can’t help but let his adoration for you swallow him whole. You took a chance on him almost two and a half years ago, and at the time, he thought the best he could hope for was getting to make you feel good. Now, he’s married to you with a child on the way, and he’s never felt more in love in his life.

There will be changes, for sure, in your relationship, in your household, in your lives, but he’s ready for anything as long as you’re by his side.

Or in his arms, he thinks as he leans down to slide them under your shoulders and knees, hefting you up against his chest and turning to lumber toward the bedroom. Your breathing changes and he looks down, finding your half-asleep eyes on him and a cute little smile curving your lips.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you whisper, clenching your fingers in his shirt and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He tries to act like that didn’t just cleave his heart in two and says, “You’ll be an even better mom.”

You just keep smiling at him, your eyes growing more and more awake with every step. Soon enough, he’s bending down to gently lay you on your side of the bed, relieved that you washed up as soon as you got home. He expects you to release his shirt, but you don’t, holding on to him and pulling insistently until he’s hovering above you, one knee on the bed and his hands braced on either side of your head.

“What is it, baby?”

“I just want a kiss,” you murmur, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels them curl at the corners before he leans in and presses them to yours, intending to keep it chaste. You don’t have the same intentions, it seems, because you nip at his bottom lip and soothe the sting with your tongue.

He lets out a breath against your mouth that sounds suspiciously like a moan, his body dropping closer to yours until he can feel your warmth radiating into him. You take advantage immediately, throwing one arm around his neck and gripping his hip with the other, pulling until he acquiesces and lets himself fall into the temptation of your body.

You hitch your legs up on his waist, your tongue sliding into his mouth and your fingers sinking into his hair as he shudders above you. He pulls away, somehow, to mumble, “Thought you just wanted a kiss.”

“Maybe I want more,” you sigh softly. “Maybe I need more.”

“Well, I have to give my wife what she needs, don’t I?” He responds in the same hushed tone before sitting up between your legs to haul his shirt off.

He’s starting to feel warm, desire heating his blood and making his cock stir, and when he lays himself out on top of you and kisses you again, he’s sure you can feel his length throbbing against you. It’s thickening slowly, hardening more the longer your lips are locked with his, the longer he thinks about being inside of you, about part of him growing within you.

It’s heady, that thought, but it also makes him want to wrap you up in blankets and make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you, or to the life that’s bound to you. It makes him want to take you carefully, deliberately, treat you as if you’re fine china or a delicate glass flower.

You already know how gentle he can be, but tonight, he’ll show you even more tenderness, even more care, even more love.

Starting with kissing down your neck, sucking lightly at your pleasure points and grazing his teeth over your sensitive skin, before putting all of his weight on one hand and pushing up your sleep shirt with the other. He sits up to tug it off, your arms and back rising to assist him, and lets his eyes rove over every inch of exposed skin lovingly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he breathes, laying his hands on either side of your sternum and lightly dragging them down. They smooth over your breasts, your nipples pebbling beneath his touch, and down your soon to be growing stomach to hook into your pajama shorts. You lift your hips when he pulls, ever helpful, and spread your legs for him when the shorts clear your feet.

His eyes are drawn to your pussy as soon as it’s revealed, the way you glisten in the moonlight making him moan aloud and shift down onto his stomach between your thighs. He already got you in his mouth once today but there’s always room for seconds, and thirds even, especially when he’s as ravenous for you as he always is.

He doesn’t let his hunger drive his movements, keeps them slow and soft, licking up the seam of your cunt and letting out a gasping groan at the taste of your arousal as it paints his tongue. Your thighs twitch beside his head, threatening to close, but he would welcome them, honestly.

He would welcome the pressure of your soft flesh on his ears, the sensation of you holding him in place, the knowledge that you feel so good, you can’t focus on keeping your legs open. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks in little pulses, they do close, trapping him in bliss.

He can still breathe through his nose so he’s not worried about suffocating, and even if he did drown in you, it’s one hell of a way to go.

Bringing one hand to your pussy, he lets two fingers sink in, pressing them inside so slowly, you try to buck your hips to speed him up. He doesn’t give in, wraps his other arm up over your hips to anchor you to the bed as he begins sucking in long pulls, his tongue laving over you every so often just to get another taste.

Every moan that escapes you drives him, sends his fingers in deeper and deeper until they’re inside you to the root. He curls them then, feeling around for the spot that makes you gush and groaning when he finds it, petting over the ridged patch and feeling your cunt get wetter and wetter.

He slides his fingers in and out slowly, crooking them into that spot on every stroke inside, grunting and grumbling around your clit as your arousal starts to drip down his hand. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your cries grow closer and closer together, and when you call out his name, he knows you’re right on the edge.

Instinct tells him to speed up, to do what it takes to push you over, and instead, he consciously keeps his movements at a sedate pace, working you up up up until, finally, you fall apart with a sigh.

Normally, he’d keep going, push for another, but he needs to feel you, needs to be closer to you, needs to be inside of you. So he pulls his fingers out, heat gathering in his stomach when a slick pop! follows, and starts to rise, knowing you’ll release him.

Your thighs drop back down to the bed and he sits up between your legs, sucking his fingers into his mouth because he doesn’t want to waste a drop. You stare up at him with stars in your eyes, your gaze half-lidded and open.

When he braces himself on top of you, you wrap yourself around him, your arms twining around his neck and your ankles crossing at the small of his back. No words are needed as he reaches down and guides himself into you, your pussy swallowing around his cock as he pushes it deeper and deeper inside.

Every time feels like the first, brings back memories of experiencing true pleasure, true companionship, of realizing he belongs with you. That realization is enforced with each minute spent next to you, each morning, afternoon, and night making him even more sure that this is where he’s meant to be.

Being with you, inside of you, in love with you, is why he was put on this earth, and Mingyu believes that with all his heart.

It brings tears to his eyes again, especially when he thinks about the fact that the perfect combination of you and him is growing and developing in your belly even now, as he thinks.

“I love you so much, baby,” he gasps wetly, tucking his face into your neck so you can’t see the way his lashes are clumped together with saltwater.

You don’t let him hide, sinking a hand into his hair and pulling insistently until he faces you again. Your watery gaze makes him drop down to his elbows, his chest pressing against yours and his lips kissing anywhere they can reach.

“I love you, Mingyu, I love you more than anything,” you whisper before cupping his face with one hand and bringing his mouth to yours. He sips at your lips decadently, indulgently, like you’ve got a flavor he’s never tasted, and pulls his hips back just an inch or two before sending them forward again.

He can’t bear to leave the clutch of your cunt long enough to really thrust, can only rut and grind himself into you, his hips rolling and his head spinning as you kiss him breathless. It’s enough for him, and when he braces himself on one arm and lets his free hand find your clit, he knows it’ll be enough for you too.

Because you’re trembling beneath him, whimpering like you’re wounded, holding him so tightly he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to untangle himself from you. Not that he wants to, beyond content at the idea of walking around with you attached to him like the cutest barnacle alive.

Soon enough, you’re gasping with every push of his hips into yours, unable to keep kissing him as he swirls circles over your swollen clit. Your pussy clenches around him in pulses, locking down when he bottoms out to hold him inside of you, the drag of your walls on his cock exquisite beyond measure.

He’s starting to get close, his orgasm a slowburn in the depths of his belly, just waiting to ignite and raze him to the ground. You’re not far behind, your cries rising in pitch and your face beginning to crumple in pleasure as he rubs determined circles into your clit, hoping to push you up that hill before he gets there.

You reach the summit seconds before he does, throwing your head back and tensing your legs to pull him in as deep as he can go while your cunt undulates and gushes around him in waves. Your release triggers his own, the euphoria that overtakes him blinding and deafening. Every nerve ending stands on edge, amplifying the twitching and jerking of his cock inside you, cum flowing out in bursts to paint your inner muscles white as he moans and whines.

It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a while, much better than the one he had alone in the shower after you left to get ready this morning, and it leaves him feeling drained but satiated and soothed. He pets at your hair clumsily, mumbling words of love and affection and fondness into your neck as he lets himself relax into you, taking care not to allow too much of his weight to rest on you.

You pet him back, your hands drifting over his shoulders and along his spine and your legs still wrapped tight around his hips. He’s not sure how long you stay intertwined like this, just that he goes soft eventually but doesn’t slip out, keeping the cum from spilling out of you and onto the bed.

He’s sure the bed will be dirty even if he rises carefully, so when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep, he withdraws himself from you and lifts you into his arms once more, carrying you to the en suite and setting you down on the toilet so the rest can drip out. You wake up enough to hold yourself up, sending him a sleepy smile when he crouches in front of you and cups your face.

“I’m going to change the sheets, okay? I’ll come get you when I’m done,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your waiting, puckered lips before smooching your forehead and jogging off to do as he said.

You’re sitting at your vanity when he returns, your face dewy and your hair taken care of for the night. He smiles at the drowsy tilt to your eyes, reaching a hand out and taking yours to pull you back to the bedroom. You rise on shaky knees, following him to the bed and climbing in when he pulls the sheet and duvet back for you.

When you’re settled in on your side, he walks around to his own, sliding into his spot next to you and pulling the covers up to cover your bodies. You roll toward him immediately, seeking the heat of his arms and letting out a content sigh when they bundle you up against his chest.

“Mingyu, we’re going to have a baby,” you whisper tremulously, joy and wonder clear in your tone.

“We are,” he whispers back, his voice just as wobbly as yours. “Thank you, I love you.”

“Thank you. I never thought I could have this life. Especially not with you. I mean, you had to quit your job for me.”

“And I would quit one hundred times more, if it meant getting to be your husband. Besides, I think I’ll love my new job.”

“And what job is that?”

“Stay at home dad.”

AN: 😭😭😭 i so did not expect to write this in two freakin days but here we are!! i know settling down and starting a family isn't the ideal for everyone but it is for me and this couple 💖 and i loved getting to give that to them. thank you to @bbychocolat for brainstorming with me and for being my cheerleader ily forever 💖

pls reblog it makes my heart happy 🥰

My Masterlist

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etherealstar-writes · 3 months

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 9

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: nine

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

You were seated on the couch with your best friend, Dani, in her apartment with bowls of snacks stacked in front of you guys. Dani was the one currently obsessed with the women football since England was hosting the Euros, and would be the one spamming you with edits.

She'd begged you to come tonight to watch the quarter finals with her with England versing Spain. And you'd finally given in, hoping to finally get cultured and then flex off to the group chat that you finally knew the names of more players other than just Lucy Bronze.

And so here you were, your eyes glued on the tv screen as the National Anthem had ended and the match was about to start. Your eyebrows had furrowed in confusion when the line-ups had been displayed for a few seconds before the kick-off whistle was blown. The last names of the Lionesses were somehow familiar, but before you could dwell on it more, it went away.

"Okay so," Dani began, pointing to the different players as the match began. "The blonde one with the number 8 on her back is Leah Williamson, my personal fav, and the captain of the team."

You nodded along.

Leah Williamson. Seems familiar.

"And then the one in goals is Mary Earps. There's Lucy Bronze with the number 2 on her back and Mille Bright next to Leah with number 6. Over there running is Keira Walsh and she has 4 on her back."

Your eyebrows furrowed again when you heard the name Earps and Bright, but decided to ignore it.

"Right there is Lauren Hemp with 11 next to Fran Kirby who's 14, and that one is Rachel Daly with number 3 on her back."

Nahhh, it couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Leah, Earps, Bright, Kie, Lauren, and now Daly?

"Oh, and that's Stanway with the ball. She just passed it to Meado!"

Hold on.

Your eyes widened. "Meado?"

"Yeah, Beth Mead. We call her Meado." Dani nodded, glancing at you and saw that you had a shocked look on your face. "You good?"

"Wait, so would Stanway's first name be Georgia by any chance?" You questioned.

"Yeah, you guessed it right!" Dani laughed. "It looks like my edits are helping."

You forced a smile on your face and nodded along, but internally you were screaming. You grabbed your phone and googled all the players on the football squad including the subs, noticing the resemblance to all the names on the group chat.

Leah Williamson. Georgia Stanway. Ella Toone. Alessia Russo. Beth Mead. Lotte Wubben-Moy. Niamh Charles. Lucy Bronze. Mary Earps. And it went on. Some had only spoken once but you had seen their name.

While Dani was focused on the game, you were lost in your own thoughts. It all seemed like a big joke right now.

The times they'd be in the gym and would be training together. The photos they would send on the chat where they were in what you now realised were their football kits, and the football games they would pass off as a bit of fun. And the fact that Lucy Bronze had commented your post.

It all made sense when you thought about it.

These past few months you'd been chatting with them, you'd thought you had gotten to "know" them better, but really you knew practically nothing because they'd continued to hide about who they were and would change the topic when you did try to bring it up, all while knowing basically everything about you.

And suddenly, you felt very stupid and very played, as well as kinda betrayed.

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

liked by danisterling and 140 others

yourusername: me raiding all of dani's snacks while trying to understand football. england national football team or national diving team? who knows 🤷‍♀️ is it coming home lionesses?

danisterling: it's coming homeeeee ↳ yourusername: let's hope so

laniangelo: maybe you'll get lucky and another of them will see this post and you can finally become a wag ↳ yourusername: new fear: unlocked

chasejackson: looking flawless l/n 😩 ↳ yourusername i know 😌

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter well done on the match girls! you guys played great loved the goals toone and stanway

elton

thank you so much y/n!

stairway ahh thank you y/n really appreciate it wait .... HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT ITS US

neev oh no

the imposter have fun messing around with someone else and hiding your identities from them! xx

the imposter left

meado what were you guys expecting? you were literally going to be on tv playing football she was bound to see and find out soon you should've told her sooner

stairway we messed up didn't we?

willybum yeah

neev we gotta fix this

the REAL karate kid how she probably hates us

elton i got an idea

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

leahwilliamsonn started following yourusername alessiarusso99 started following yourusername ellatoone started following yourusername stanwaygeorgia started following yourusername niamhcharles17 started following yourusername lottewubbenmoy started following yourusername lucybronze started following yourusername 1maryearps started following yourusername and more started following yourusername

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

part ten here

#lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader #engwnt #lionesses #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #ella toone x reader #niamh charles x reader #georgia stanway x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics

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souliebird · 3 months

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness.

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink.

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert.

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours.

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his.

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek.

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be.

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles.

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic.

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared.

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger.

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm.

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing.

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around.

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all?

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends.

Is this what it will be like now?

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone.

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child.

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth.

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter.

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly.

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos.

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that.

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand.

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake.

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.”

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips.

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame.

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room.

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.”

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else.

You don't want to be alone again.

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?”

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare.

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy.

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.”

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings.

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy.

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you.

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.”

“It was scary!”

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall.

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay.

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown.

You are such a fucking mess.

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles.

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you.

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it.

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.”

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift.

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.”

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you.

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.”

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad.

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again.

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes.

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain.

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room.

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble.

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it.

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside.

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs.

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold.

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot.

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life.

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms.

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all?

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.”

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter.

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before.

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.”

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.”

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.”

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door.

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks.

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response.

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before.

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue.

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!”

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay.

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…”

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?”

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down.

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie.

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you.

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more.

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one.

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom.

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing.

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat.

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in.

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile.

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up.

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright.

You close your eyes tightly.

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you.

Why is he in the shower with you?

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place.

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance.

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting.

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up.

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie?

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held.

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has.

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened.

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe.

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be.

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic.

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest.

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you.

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar.

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move.

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower.

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more.

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd.

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.”

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw.

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good.

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together.

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat.

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.”

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look.

In your chest, your heart clenches.

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has.

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now.

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,” he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg.

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind.

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue.

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it.

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep.

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep.

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water.

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him.

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair.

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes.

The little change makes you feel so much better. You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically.

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.”

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod.

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in.

“Okay.”

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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4dbarbie-archive · 9 months

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4dbarbie remix: How to realise Self?

Disclaimer: This remix/mashup post was compiled by me, a student of 4dbarbie as a way to make sense of everything and to understand how to apply the knowledge practically. I went through all her posts and answered asks to make this which is made up of various parts of 25 49 (omg lol there was a lot of good stuff) different posts and answered asks. It is not an original post by 4dbarbie herself but all words are directly from her various posts and answered asks (except for my clarification notes which are in purple text in brackets & the last section after the last divider where I make some closing comments). Hopefully the way I've organised the information in this post makes sense and helps some Vanessas out there. ♡

Fair warning as this is a pretty long post essay (!) so maybe grab a cup of tea or something :) If you are really new to all this then take some time to really process it, there is no rush. My personal notes and highlights are in pink for main points and purple for 'action' points.

May we all realize our Self ♡

There would be no steps necessary, no process to undertake if you would just establish yourself in the I AM alone. You are so lost in your play you forget reality. 1 If you are "I AM", it means you are not the person experiencing the world/thoughts/circumstances, you never were. 2

The external world, you control it (because it is you!, in you), you make it, fully, even when you tell yourself you don't. 3 To know yourself as the source of all that is, you have to first remove the veil of what's stopping you from seeing it in the first place. To know your real being, you have to first abandon what you thought yourself to be. 4 There is no external life, there is no need to use any methods to recondition or train your mind. It is much faster, much easier and you are hundreds times happier just letting go of the mind. 5 The process is one of letting go more and more until you find yourself having nothing, being nothing. The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 6

A jeweler who wants to refashion an ornament, first melts it down to shapeless gold. Similarly, one must return to one's original state before a new name and form can emerge. The only way to renewal lies through destruction. You must melt down the old jewellery into formless gold before you can mold a new one. What refuses to die cannot be reborn. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 7

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. By thinking you are it, you create a character who desires and then identify yourself with it. You can only have when you let go of thinking that you don't. To change, you need to give up this conviction of being this person. You need to disbelieve. 9

Most of you can't change because you are so desperate TO change... but there is nothing to want to change. Things just are. Don't work with changing self, just realize who self actually is. 10

You have it, all is well. Just stop believing the illusions born out of thinking you're a person. 11

Unless they understand who they really are, that Vanessa is a habit and nothing more - that nothing has existence outside of awareness, including her, that awareness assigns reality and is the only reality - they're always going to struggle to control something and get frustrated they don't see what they think they're aware of. What you're aware of is what you're being. You can't be aware of being something new while also being Vanessa. 12

Knowing is being. If you really knew, the thing you knew would be materialized. You know you are Vanessa so you're being Vanessa. Would you want Vanessa if you were her? No. You are her so you don't desire her. And you won't be able to be Vanessa 2.0 if you don't shed this Vanessa first. That is, let go of thinking the thoughts are yours. 8

Your memories of the life Vanessa lived are now and not in a past. You are imagining her past being now. Her past exists now because you are aware of it now. If you were Lara you would be aware of a different past, still now. Basically there was no yesterday and you are imagining "a past having been" today. 13

Anon: "Do I have to endure the world while I know my self as awareness and disbelieve that I am Vanessa???" Ada: THE POINT OF KNOWING YOURSELF AS AWARENESS IS TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT AT ALL TIMES, FOREVER. It's complete, incomparable freedom and power. It's the only real love. 14

You are either your Self with nothing attached to it or you're an ego. Disbelieve you were ever her. See what happens. 41

A lot of beliefs are subconscious. "I am a body", "I am Vanessa", "There is a world" are all subconscious, automatic beliefs. Upon investigation you can get rid of any belief (by making them conscious and then dropping them). 15 How do you drop a belief? (see part 1 and part 2)

HOW TO STOP?

The body and the mind are only symptoms of ignorance, of misapprehension. Behave as if you were pure awareness, bodiless and mindless, spaceless and timeless, beyond 'where' and 'when' and 'how'. Dwell on it, think of it, learn to accept its reality. Don't oppose it and deny it all the time. Keep an open mind at least. Make your mind and body express the real which is ALL and beyond all. By doing, you succeed. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

You need not take time to meditate or put time aside to contemplate and "apply". All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours. 16 It is your own desire to hold on to it that creates the problem. Let go. Stop imagining that the dream is yours. As long as you give reality to dreams, you are their slave; see all as a dream and stay out of it. 17

You imagine that there is an external world in which the you that you're identified with lives, but all of that is in your mind. Stop imagining it's true and it dissolves, which can only mean it never was. Which can only mean you assigned reality to it by thinking you're it 18

I've said it before, you don't have to convince Vanessa that she's unreal. Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go... you're holding so tightly onto your ideas now, that's why you can't see their falsity. 19 You don't have to convince anyone of anything. What I teach here is to leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 2 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you. Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them. 32 Doesn't matter what the thought is, leave it alone, ignore it BUT not by force of will, just indifference. We've established you aren't the ego, alright? Thoughts, right now, are from the ego. 20

Thoughts of the past life come, remember they no longer have anything to do with you. Literal full delusion (I only call it that because after being identified with a person for so long, it's mind-blowing to grasp you are not that). Thoughts are not yours, complete indifference - no need to fight them. Where they come from, none of your business. Only know they are not yours. YOU not being in your desired reality is a thought, got it? This body and this world are not forced onto you, they exist through your identification with them. Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. After you've detached, you'll easily shift to as many realities as you want - don't put any on a pedestal of desire, they are equal. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (referring to anon's desire). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you. 21

You don't need to convince yourself they're unreal, just dismiss them as not yours. They will disappear more and more through your newfound indifference, then their physical counterparts will, too. Detachment is by doubt and indifference. First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own. 20

Start letting go bit by bit, just to see what happens, you won't start "acting crazy" just because you become uninterested in thoughts, I promise 22

What I recommend you to do is bring your self into focus, become aware of your own existence. See how you function, watch the motives and the results of your actions. Study the prison you have built around yourself because of credulity. By knowing what you are not, you come to know your self. The way back to your self is through refusal and rejection. 23

Here's a scale of emotions you go through, from bottom to top: apathy, grief, fear, hostility, anger, indifference, acceptance, freedom finally - and then unlimited, independent joy. You can review this to see where you are on the journey and what should come next. You can't skip them, all of them have to happen for you to have the all. 14

Do not try to understand any more, just be. And let other things be as they are. Even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. 14

If you are angry or in pain, separate yourself from anger and pain and watch them. Step away and look. The physical events will go on happening, but by themselves they have no importance. It is your mind alone that matters. When you identify yourself with them, you are their slave, you think you have to act on them. When you stand apart, you are their master. 24

One thing is certain: the real is not imaginary, it is not a product of the mind. 23

You are beyond the mind. Mind and body become your servants once you discover your Self. The present moment is all that is, so yes - become aware of having never been the ego, of your ego being just one of your creations. Ego is the concept of individuality, of separation from the “I", and the All. Therefore ego is a false assumption. We are really the Supreme Reality, we are not separate from It. To "fix" the separation, reject what you are not. Only look at who you are, over and over and over until it becomes the permanent identification and replaces the ego. 25

Once you are convinced that you cannot say truthfully about your self anything except ‘I am’, and that nothing that can be pointed at, can be your self, the need for the ‘I am’ is over — you are no longer intent on verbalising what you are. All you need is to get rid of the tendency to define your self. All definitions apply to your body only and to its expressions. Once this obsession with the body goes, you will revert to your natural state, spontaneously and effortlessly. 23

Drop the false ideas first and watch. After what keeps you stuck goes, you can do whatever you want. You can think the ugliest thoughts and nothing will happen if you know yourself as who you are. It's your identification with the thought that causes the thought to be true. 26

The guilt is because you think you're running out of time and you need to change "your" life now. Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough. 27

She (Vanessa) will vanish yes, you ask how because you still think waking is more real than a dream. Do your dreams not vanish? Do you wonder how they vanish? They just stop existing all of a sudden when you go into another dream (waking). What if you've lived all your life as Ada and woke up one morning and were suddenly Vanessa with no memory of Ada, would you know anybody vanished? Nope. All you know is who you are right now (because present is all that is), which is Vanessa. 28 Leave poor Vanessa alone, with both her desires and fears, disbelieve you are her until reality becomes self-obvious.

By being your Self you gain the freedom of existing as anything, anytime. You don't lose Vanessa's pretty body if you don't want to stop imagining yourself as being Vanessa with her pretty body. 29

Nothing is lost, awareness just shifts. You can always go back. We're just removing the obstacles that stop you from having this freedom of choice (your identification with this person). You can completely wipe out Vanessa's existence as well. Later if you change your mind, you can make it so that she actually existed again. You are no form, you are formless, the form only is when you imagine there is a form, be your favorite form and dream beautiful dreams :) 30

There is no difference between sleeping and waking, awareness is the background of both. You just think the waking state more real because you've dreamt it over and over and reinforced your belief. They're equally imaginary. Become aware of this and life will forever be a breeze. 31

All depends on you. It is by your consent that the world exists. Withdraw your belief in its reality and it will dissolve like a dream. Cease from looking for happiness and reality in a dream and you will wake up. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 17

Your next step will be realizing there is nothing to learn in a dream. You'll find yourself having less and less thoughts, then none at all. Then, only if you want, you will be able to reinstall the mind, now of your choice, and change the dream. 16

Past doesn't come up anymore, memories don't come up anymore after you've ignored (thoughts) & detached yourself enough. They just don't. You can think freely now about being something different. If you can't, don't get mad, don't blame, only know that the one that's doubting isn't you, so the doubts are totally fine to be. They'll be for a while and then they dissolve too, because by ignoring, not getting involved - you forget. And by forgetting not only do you free up so much mental space, but possibilities of what can be, become unnumbered. 36 Anon: Is it okay to feel completely indifferent after learning about this stuff? Like, not feeling as worried about what is playing in front of me since I know its not me Ada: That's the goal. Then become indifferent to the thoughts you get as well. Those aren't yours either. You'll become aware they've dissolved & you can reconstruct the mind however you want because you have no attachment to past beliefs anymore. 33

Even the process is very beautiful... but the very best is when your Self becomes the permanent background instead of Vanessa. Now you always return to Vanessa, later you'll forget to consider her ♡ Dream not of a character who wants and desires, there is nothing to long for — only things to be. 16

To not depend on anything but everything to depend on you is a top state you can grasp with no method. 5 The experience is of being empty, uncluttered by memories and expectations; it is like the happiness of open spaces, of being young, of having all the time and energy for doing things, for discovery, for adventure. A sense of 'there is nothing wrong with me. I have nothing to worry about'. But not one you condition yourself into like you conditioned yourself into a body, it is one that naturally and effortlessly dawns on you by itself when you reject all else, because it is your natural state. 34 Real freedom and real love only emerge when you're not identified with a transient ego. 35

All you are doing is becoming lucid. Becoming able to control the dream. You won't be able to, unless you step out of it. That is, stop thinking this story you tell yourself is true. When Vanessa is no longer all you are, you'll be able to 'change reality' the way you change the film in a video projector. You'll be able to have as much fun in the play as you want to, change it when you no longer want this one specifically. The emotions of the character are fun and welcomed, because they no longer imprison you, there's the background of love to it all - that once you gain, it can't be lost, it's ever present. 36

What you are identified with materializes. If you are not, it disappears. 37

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is. All you need to fix is your wrong identification. There isn't anyone who couldn’t materialize anything right now if he or she would just let go of identifying as the limited body. 38

Only by letting go of all do you gain everything. But once it's done, it's done irreversibly. Fear is no more, control is fully yours. You are free, completely. And with the bliss of freedom no human pleasure compares. You become full love, full power. The absolute and only power. Sooner or later, you will arrive at the same conclusion. You can't stop being what you are, all else can stop existing, but you can't. The only thing you have a choice in is delaying seeing it by thinking you are this or that. Only see it (I Am), then you can imagine whatever you want and it will be. 39

If you project the world, it is within your power to change it. But you must stop identifying yourself with it first. Go beyond, then you have all the power to destroy and recreate. All everybody wants is to be free, but to do that you must know two things: what you are to be free from and what keeps you bound. 2

Your own self is your ultimate teacher, the outer teacher is merely a milestone. It is only your inner teacher that will walk with you to the goal, because he is the goal. - Nisargadatta Maharaj 40

Got more questions? Recommended reading:

Ada's recommended guides on realizing Self: 1, 2, 3

My recommended posts from Ada*: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

All references from the remix post

Books: I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj** and Keys to The Ultimate Freedom by Lester Levenson

*in addition to the sources linked in the post **a lot of her posts incorporate quotes and excerpts from this book, moreso than Lester Levenson's Keys to The Ultimate Freedom and she also shared a lot of excerpts from the book

What does this look like when applied?

Experience is the best teacher and learning from other's experiences and how they applied this knowledge can be really valuable and insightful. I don't define success based on materialising things necessarily although that is one result of realizing Self.

From 4dbarbie students: see the tag

Other: 1, 2

Okay, what to do after reading all this?

Apply apply apply. Don't wait, nothing will happen by waiting. There is only now. Inquire who is causing trouble and to whom. You can't think yourself into realization. 'You' are beyond the mind. You are the creator of the mind. It must be experienced.

#remix #4dbarbie #nonduality #non duality #nondualism #non dualism

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loveyourlovelysoul · 4 months

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Choose a number 1-30 and read a sentence for you in time of needs. You can ofc read them all.

1- You're braver than you think. You can get through this too. Just take a breath and then start again. Do not give up.

2- You're not alone even if at times it feels so. Don't worry about being a burden or annoying others: ask for help, talk about your needs and feelings. You don't have to deal with all that by yourself. Keep asking even after being rejected. Someone will answer you.

3- Look inside and see your real worth. No one else can compare to you. You're you, and you're enough and deserving already as you are. Don't let others' harsh judgement make you think otherwise.

4- Life is made of light and dark and so are you. Find your balance again among the two and keep going. It'll be fine, no feeling is going to last forever.

5- Things look scarier and rockier cause they're changing (you're changing too). It's okay to feel uncomfortable and a bit loss or overwhelmed: give yourself time until you find a new balance in your new reality. It won't be bad, I promise.

6- Go slow, take your time. Nothing and nobody is rushing behind you. It's okay to take breaks, it's okay if you're taking a bit more time than you thought in doing something. Focus on the journey not on how much time you're using or thinking you're wasting. You're not wasting time when you use it for yourself. But worrying will make you lose a part of it and hurt you even more.

7- Try to believe that things can change. Be open to them, even if you cannot control this process and see how it is gonna be, chances are it will be great. Trust yourself too (not your fears though, separate from them).

8- You're on the road of success, whether you see it or not. Keep learning, keep welcoming (your feelings in particular): the more grounded and stable you will be able to be, the more opportunities you'll be able to see and make yours.

9- Always be kind and compassionate with yourself: the mistakes you made today won't ever be the mistakes of tomorrow. Making mistakes is a way of learning, not a confirmation of you not being enough. Nobody ever has made no mistakes while trying or becoming better at something. Be patient and give yourself another chance (and even more).

10- Remember the last decision in your life is always up to you: you're the protagonist of your life, don't let it pass you by. Even if at the moment you cannot see a way out, it will come to you. Keep staying hopeful. Keep focusing on what you can actually control, be it even just your feelings.

11- You're not responsible for anyone's feelings or emotions. Remember you cannot control how they react to you or anything really, and you don't have to necessarily make everything better for others. Respect yourself too.

12- Be confident in your abilities and knowledge. Do not second guess yourself cause you were somehow taught you're not good enough: you are. And you can be wrong here and there too and it won't change your worth ever. Trust yourself whether you're right or wrong and soon you'll be just right.

13- Remember that as you give, you also need to receive from others as much. Stay open to that. You don't have to just empty yourself in order to get crumbles or the bear minimum: that's not what healthy relationships are about.

14- Set your boundaries and stand up for yourself. You're not being selfish for this, as you're not imposing on or taking advantages of others. You're just putting yourself on the same page as them, you need as much respect and love as them.

15- Take care of you: stay hydrated, make your bed, take a shower, go for a walk, enjoy a nice book or video or movie, sing, dance, paint... prepare yourself a nice cup of tea and treat yourself with a little gift here and there. You deserve all this, especially when things get rocky and too much to bear with. Celebrate your little successes too.

16- Surround yourself with the right people for you. If you cannot get away from some negative people, try at least to build boundaries and find other people with whom you can share nice moments of peace and growth, and that can get your feelings too. It's important to communicate with people that can understand us.

17- If you feel alone, try to go out and go visit place where you may find like-minded people. Join a volunteering association, go to a movie teather, a park or a library, or start a course of something you're passionate about. Sometimes we need to be the one creating opportunities to ourselves instead of waiting for others to approach us first.

18- It's okay to feel lost while trying to figure out what to do or where to go. Take a breath when this happens and focus on just doing things you like. The more you'll get to know yourself and work on something you enjoy, the faster you'll get to understand more about the next steps to take. Ask to someone trusted for their advice as well: many times people around us can see us better than what we do. Just remember that not everyone can really do that anyway so trust yourself first.

19- You don't have to work on your fears anytime you get triggered or feel overwhelmed. Take a break, focus on something else and come back to it another day. Taking breaks is part of the healing process as much as working with your shadows and triggers, so take time to enjoy your present life away from that too.

20- Help yourself liberating from the excess of energy, caused by anxiety and overthinking, that you may have stored in your body. Move your body: walk, dance, do yoga or any little light exercise (as much as you body allows). Go back to yourself, get in touch with your body and release what is not serving you anymore.

21- Journaling can help you wording and throwing out your confused thoughts, in order to clear them from the inside. You don't have to write them reasonably, this will come later: just focus on freeing yourself first and foremost. At times we just need to pour emotions/events out to process them.

22- Trauma may have caused you to detach from yourself, so take time know yourself again. Know your values and what you can compromise on and why. List things you like and dislike, what you think are your strengths and what may be your flaws (be objective here, don't let others or your wounds decide for you) and so on... you make the rules. Making lists of pros and cons for something may also be useful.

23- As we never stop learning, we never stop making mistakes and growing. Share everything you got around you, keep welcoming and understanding yourself and the world around you. Keep spreading your talents: yes you do have talents, and no they're not negative ones. Allow yourself to try anything you want: who cares if others do it too? They are not doing it better than you, they're doing it differently. See yourself where you can get just by trying with no pressure.

24- You can also try something new and different from what you're used: getting out of your comfort zone can be very inspiring both for your creativity, your mind and your life in general (and in knowing yourself). Share your finds, share your passions. Don't be shy.

25- Having being judged so harshly during your life has probably made you more insecure and willing to close off from the world: please try and allow yourself to see that even if it hurt you so much, it wasn't on you. You weren't the real object of those judgement. It is always all in the head of the person judging, it's never on the object. Be nicer with you, you're worth much more than that.

26- What is really stopping you from trying what you have in mind? Fear of making or not making? Either way, take your fear by the hand and take it to see how is it gonna be for real. Our minds want to keep us safe and try to make things look worse than they actually are just cause they want to keep us in a known zone. But what if that's not where we're supposed to stay? Or where we want to stay?

27- Don't fear: you won't be let down forever nor you won't be alone forever. Your people are coming, try to get ready to meet them and let them in. You're not made for everyone and, if your past has been tough, you may fear not being good enough for the relationship (any type) of your dreams, but you are. And you'll have the chance to build it the moment you'll be ready for it.

28- You may not trust others much out of past hurt, but the fact is that it's never your fault what others do with your trust. You don't have to feel guilty or any less cause you trusted the wrong people. It wasn't your fault.

29- Take your time when you need to bring yourself closure about an event or a relationship. Go slow and try to welcome and nurture each of your emotions and feelings, of whatever type they may be. Ask for support, talk about how you really feel, write, and slowly go back to your passion. Act according on what you feel like doing. Do not make sudden decisions and also, take time to grieve and cry. Grieving is complex, you'll experience ups and downs: it's okay, give yourself time and space to deal with all that at your own pace and conditions.

30- Healing is not about not being triggered anymore and feeling like nothing can scare you: healing is about learning how to recognize your triggers before they hurt you and taking action so that these emotions won't overcome you as they did. It's about learning to not let your fears decide your actions, but taking actions even if not knowing the results feels really uncomfortable and scary. It's about learning to be in discomfort and not letting this ruin your whole life.

---

I hope these short texts can help you in your journey. I hope you take care of your whole being even if you don't really love yourself. I hope you can see yourself as someone you may end up liking after chatting a bit or as someone in need and that you may want to support. Start with that. And be open to see your good sides too, cause you have plenty even on your darkest days (they never disappear).

#words #healing #important #positivity #thoughts #self love #self healing #positive thinking #healingjourney #self care #life #life lessons #slef care #self embrace #self help #self support #encouraging words #encouragement

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pedge-page · 2 months

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Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife #9: At the Beach

Can be read with others in series or alone

Summary: You're not too confident at the beach with your body, but Joel's got the best remedy

Warnings: Super fluff!! Some sexy time at the end, unprotected sex, car sex, failed sex, fingering, 1 spank, heavier descriptions of pregnant body

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You complain how hot it is, the grainy sand stuck on on your thighs, the hot sun blistering your sensitive skin, the onlookers you fear are gawking at your enormous size. The fact you have to wear a bikini now despite always having worn a full piece before the baby train docked. But it just wouldn't fit, and you had to buy a NEW (and even larger sized) two piece to accommodate your must larger figure.

All of it makes you want to barf and hide in a closet. At the very least wrapped up in a towel—but of course, one towel doesn't even cover over your mid section anymore either!

Not that he's complaining. Joel pulls his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose to let all the light in and, with no shame, gets a glorious look at you as often as he can. You wearing a two piece with your accentuated body now so drastically changed because of him, just absolutely showcasing the evidence of your love making has him struggling to keep his cock down in his trousers. He wants to put his hands all over you and tell everyone yeah, this body? this belly? This woman? You see her? Mine.

You didn't want to come to the beach. Okay, you did, like, yesterday, when you were scratching his arm off and begging to go sun bathe and wear your new sandals, but clearly, Joel couldn't recognize when you changed your mind last minute in the car ride without actually verbally telling him. He was so busy humming his little 70s tunes on the radio, glancing smiles at you and putting his warm hand on your fat thigh. Completely unaware, despite your reassuring smiles, that you wanted him to turn around right now and go home. Why couldn't the man just read your mind? Why do you have to explain everything to him word for word?

So here you are, a million degrees under the baking sun, sand in your sandals with the whole world of beautiful people apparently on this beach too. You stand there awkwardly, rubbing your arms hoping to shrink down to an ant and scurry away.

Trying to get to your knees is difficult at best, uncomfortable and pathetic, before settling on your bum with that massive tummy in the way of everything. You spread your legs and, fuck, you look like you might as well be pushing this baby out right now in this bloated birthing position. Could they kick you off the beach for looking like this???

Joel doesn’t pay any attention at all. He gets right to being a boy and digging a big hole in the sand like a 14 year old, despite his cracking knees and shifting groans from all the movement he’s got to do.

At least someone here is having a good time.

He carefully scoops the sand with his thick palm, making a smooth, rounded cavern. He even brought a tape measure, which he uses around your tummy first, strangely, and you don't even question it.

Once the hemisphere is dug to his satisfaction, smoothed over with his calloused fingers, he sits back and waves to you.

You're picking little grains of sand off your moon-sized belly.

He coughs again, and you finally look up.

"Ta da!" He boasts proudly.

You throw your hands up defeatedly at his extremely unimpressive hole. "Okay?"

His lips draw tightly to a thin line, doubt crossing his face. “Wait, just—c’mere. Best part."

He grabs your hands and helps you to lie forward so that your belly has room to dip into the hole. And just like that, for the first time in months, you're lying on your front again.

It’s as if a massive ache in your back is suddenly relieved. "Oh my god! This feels amazing!" You cheer. The pressure your baby had been putting on your lower spine suddenly disappears, and all that weight is so perfectly supported by the carefully measured cradle he dug in the sand. It's been so long since you were in this position, you had dreams of the day you could again.

"Joel, you're—“

"Fuckin' amazin', I know darlin'."

He plants a special cooling pillow in front of you so you can rest your chin above the sand, no strain on your neck.

You sigh loudly, and extremely long, not even aware that it sounds like a pornographic moan.

"Behave, you," he tsks with a raised brow, his whispers tickling your ear.

"Mmmm.”

You wave him off, suddenly enjoying the warm heat of the sun on your bare back.

He lathers your exposed skin with gentle sun screen, massaging your shoulders, neck, sides. He takes special care to realllly rub your butt, 'so you don't burn.' Puts an umbrella over you too for good measure. With the reassuring feeling of Joels hands working out your muscles all over you, the crashing sound of waves in the distance and chirping seagulls, and feeling like you aren’t heavily pregnant for the first time in months, you quickly succumb to a nap.

Later when he's got food, double fisting some hot dogs, he sits you up and rubs the sand off your belly with a clean cloth. Joel scarfs the first one down, ketchup drooping down his wrist.

But you’re too distracted, and when you tell him its okay, he eats yours without a second thought. You laugh a little. Poor thing probably got baked under the sun too busy taking care of you.

He chews loudly, jaw working close with the amount of meat and mustard and bread bulging out. You lick your thumb and wipe away the droop of condiment spilling from his lips.

He playfully chases your hand with a bite, growling.

you shake your head. “You fucking weirdo.”

“Mmm. My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

His eyes rake over your body—skin radiant in the sun, so smooth and shiny from the oily sunscreen he had smoothed over you. Like something out of a dream. His dreams, to be exact. Not so appropriate dreams he may have already had after only the first week of dating you, and thinking about the day you might be exactly as you are—pregnant with a his ring on your finger.

Delirious with the sight of you, he leans in and starts kissing you, then groping and suckling alll down to your bloated belly.

"Joel, stop, people are gonna see!"

"Let them see, you're so fucking sexy right now.”

"STOP.” You grasp him a bit more firmly to pull his hungry mouth away from going any further down south. “We're not having sex right now. That's final. Now keep your bad boy parts in your pants.”

He pouts and grumbles, drawing away like a scolded child.

You watch as a group of kids play in the water and laugh, or two young girls collect more sea shells than their little hands can carry. Your hand absent-minded rubs over your belly, wondering what your baby is thinking right this moment. If she had thoughts. If she was listening and seeing through you, and feeling what you might be feeling right now.

Joel watches you. He can see that sense of distant longing in your eyes.

Remembers when you first started dating, mid 20s and so young, and the first thing you said was you weren't sure about kids. He kind of knew he wanted at least one, but the more he got to know you, the more he was willing to give that idea up if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. It took five years after you got married before he found you trembling but bravely presenting him a positive test, and he had to fight himself to keep all his emotions at bay in case you didn’t want this. You were so quiet, so unreadable. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it or not.

Until you both went to your first ultrasound, and from that minute you saw the little blob on the screen, and the nurse said “meet mom and dad!” Your lives changed. The whole car ride home you were babbling excitedly about baby names, the color of the nursery, what your child might look like (you hoped she or he would look like Joel).

You’re quiet right now like you were that day. He follows your eyes to the scene of all the kids playing together, their parents watching over and encouraging the sandcastle building or warning not to go too far out into the water: a happy family.

"I want more,” you say quietly, not really even addressing Joel as your eyes are stuck forward.

He just chuckles and shakes his head. “Baby, we still are working on getting one. Gotta wait before we can have another."

"I want her to have a sibling,” you mumble, holding your belly with both hands delicately.

He bends down and kisses your hand resting atop your swell. “I’ll give you as many as you want.... so long as it doesn't exceed two.”

Your head snaps back. “Three.”

"If there's 2, then that's 4 of us, which is the perfect number to sit at any restaurant. 4 is right. Plus a normal car sits 4 people comfortably. Do you really want a third baby being subjected to a middle seat?"

"Mini van?"

"We ain't getting a mini van. Over my dead body.”

"Well we can't use the truck!”

"Ya can put a baby seat in the truck."

You giggle at the imagery. "You've thought about this a lot haven't you, Mr. Miller?”

He's going off about why 4 also is the perfect number in most rollercoaster carts, but you can't help but just look at him, smiling warmly to yourself that you get to call this man yours.

“—I love you."

He stops mid sentence. A little jumped, but never surprised by your words. He caresses your cheek lovingly, his soft lips finding yours. "I love you too," he mumbles just hushed enough for only you to hear.

Your foreheads touch, as if you wanted your minds to meld into one. You kiss him again, then again a little more firmly. And more. Again, more—more, again. Until you're making out with him a little too passionately, your hand drifting south to his caress his Daddy belly and his Daddy parts—

He hand grabs your wrist to stop you. “Honey,” he warns. There’s a glint in his eye that is just barely keeping his mature brain functioning. With your tits all swollen and hefty with milk, spilling out of that poor excuse of a bra and begging for attention, along with your ass spilling out of that g-string-looking triangle hiding your more than likely wet flower... He’s unsure if he can't keep his erection at bay if you keep acting like this while looking like this.

"I want you," you breathe, your lips crashing on his.

"I want you too,” he hums between your insatiable teeth biting along his tongue. “But..."

"But?"

"You said no sex at the beach."

"I know. I'm waiting for you to get off your lazy ass and take me in the truck."

Joel had never packed shit up quicker in his life. He’s bunched up bottles and towels and sunglasses and whatever junk he had brought all up in a towel with one arm and ran barefoot to the parking lot, his other hand dragging you as you wiggled excitedly behind him. He throws it all in the truckbed and unlatches the door for you, helping you up with a quick smack to your sandy asscheek. He gets in and rolls up the windows. Not bothering to check if anyone is around.

You pull him close and start shoving his shorts down.

Its hot and rushed and promising—until you quickly realize your baby does not want any truck-fucking business happening because there's no possible configuration the two of you can get in to have sex with the sheer size of your tummy in the way.

He can sense the tears of frustration welling in your eyes, immediately caressing you as he buckles you in and revs the truck to life.

“It’s okay, its okay, it's okay, we'll have car sex again after she's born, how's that? Just a beautiful girl you are. Too sexy like this. Need to do it on a comfortable bed, that’s all. Can't have ya all to myself whenever I want, huh?"

You nod, desperate to suck up all your tears. Quite frankly you know that you ugly cry, and Joel knows you ugly cry, and you don’t want to ugly cry. You remember that your pussy is wet and waiting to get home so he can spoil you properly.

He continues to adoring rub over your belly, a constant affection of his touch reminding you to stay level. With one hand gripping the wheel, eyes trained forward, he glides down over your naval and urges you to part your legs.

You slip back a bit, giving him the widened access he needs to dip his middle under your bikini bottoms and between your slick folds. You moan loudly, hips arching forward to get more of his finger rubbing along your swollen clit.

“Joooeeeeeel,” you whimper impatiently. He can’t dip any more than an inch of his finger in you due to the stretch of his arm over you belly. Instead, he swipes along your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your nub.

"Ahhh, oh sweetheart, you’re just drippin' me." He retracts his hand and plunges his finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over and over and sucking your juices clean off with a pop.

You eye his bulge stabbing through his trousers. "I wish I could suck you off right now." You whine, squeezing your achy breasts and hoping he can steal a glance at you.

"Mmm, those were good times, huh?"

You groan, frustrated. Turns out the baby was cock blocking you in numerous ways from doing things you enjoyed in your youth. Your “youth” feeling like it just a few months ago when driving BJs were your favorite way of nearly getting pulled over.

Eventually you do get home, and you throw the seatbelt over. This baby was NOT stealing truck-fucking from you. Not. Today.

Joel can’t stop your rush. You’re clambering over the dash, knee pressing into Joel’s bulge painfully and elbowing his chest trying to get into a position.

"Okay wait—just—OW! Hon—s-urgghh— HOLD ON.”

You maneuver him to sit at the center of the back seat, with your back facing him and ass hovering over his cock. He’s protectively holding your waist in your squatting position. You sit back slowly, moaning as he penetrates your slit. With both hands on either side of the front seats shoulders in front of you, you begin gently rocking and bouncing.

He holds your belly, guiding you up and down, back and forth on his dick

"Fuck. Fuck, I love you, Joel. I cant wait—nnmmm—to have your baby!"

He grumbles in agreement, watching the space where his length disppears into your sopping cunt and comes back wet and shiny from your arousal.

It feels fantastic after waiting so long, being so pent up and needy for each other since—like 20 minutes ago.

And There's about 18 more seconds of this before you're slowing down. Joel can feel it too: the awkward clench, slipping out of you every few seconds, creaking in the truck's seat, the wet scratchiness of the sand still wedged there, your hand on your back from the pain, unable to bounce on him with the weight of you, the overall struggle that’s paving way for very shitty, very uncomfortable, very unsatisfying sex. You stop altogether and sit in his lap with his cock impaling you, almost casually.

"I'm tired,” you sigh in defeat, out of breath.

Joel just nods behind you. He kisses your shoulder blade and helps you off him.

Baby: 1.

You: 0

“Bed is still open, if ya want it…” you mumble into his whiskered cheek before planting a soft kiss.

His excitement jolts him into a frenzied leap out of the truck. “Bathroom, then bed, and I expect to see your legs spread and naked.”

You giggle and the two of you part in different directions in the house.

Joel quickly uses the bathroom before tripping over his clothes while stripping, eager to finally make you cry about how good he’s going to pleasure you.

Only to find you nestled on the couch curled up with your hand perched under your cheek, drooling into the pillow. Even despite your sunkissed skin, the dryness of your lips from the salty ocean air, the sand you complained between your folds and wedged up your ass by your bikini didn't matter. As the afternoon warm sun bleeds from the drapes lulled you to a gentle rest, secure and safe in your own home.

Joel kneeled beside you, cupping your cheek soothingly.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You stir slightly, smiling with a hazy half conscious state. "I know," you respond cheekily, before nuzzling into his hand again and falling back asleep.

Joel stays there for hours, one hand resting over your belly, just watching the woman he's fallen so hard for, wondering what in the world he's done to deserve such a blessing.

- - - -

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