#i finally had some free time yesterday to make a new coloring

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

[emerald-taur]

More Than a Friend

~Summary:

You're in love with your friend, and she makes you crazy with her behavior .

~Parings: wanda × reader

~Warnings: drinking 🍸

~Word count: 2.3K

~A/n: This was inspired by a song 🎵✨️

DO NOT COPY ANY MY WORK | MINORS DIN 18+ ONLY Disclamer: Englisch is not my first language. Fell free to comment and like

You caught sight of her among all these people ,standing near the bar, talking to someone.

She wears a red dress, it's laying gracefully around her form, reminiscent is the vibrant color of deep crimson red. It's adorned with delicate gold accessories, and each piece glistens softly against her honeyed skin.

As she turned your way, a smile graced her lips, a sight that always meqns so much to you. You couldn't help but remember the times when her expression was clouded with tears instead with her heartwarming smile, following the loss of her twin.

You stood by her side through every tear and heartache. However, as time passed, you weren't as close anymore.

No midnight talks, no movie night, no girls' nights anymore.

Maybe it's for the better. Now, you can at least overcome this stupid feeling you get every time you look into her eyes.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you shifted your gaze away, turning to face the person standing behind you.

It was Natasha, as stunning as ever in her impeccably tailored dark blue pantsuit. She handed you a drink with a gentle smile, the glass filled with a red cherry swimming in perfectly clear vodka.

This drink was exactly what you needed in this moment, still felt the lingering presence of those emerald green eyes. As the comforting warmth of the liquid coursed through you, you finally could shake the memory of this green.

"Feeling better ?"

"Yeah , thanks, Tascha. Please tell me, will it ever go away ?"

"You ask the wrong person , you the only one who I let come this close , still don't know how that happened. "

" I'm just that charming am I."

"Funny but no, not really, you're just you."

"Mh"

"Just so you know, she's on her way to you."

"W-WHAT."

She already left, that b-tch.

Not even a few seconds later, you knew tascha was right. The tap on your arm confirmed it.

Looking down at your , now emty glass, you took a gulp, then turned to Wanda with a slightly awkward smile.

"Hey wands, y-you doing ok ?"

"Yeah, everything is okay. Are you this is your fourth drink tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, no worries, I'm fine, and tascha looks out for me, so no troubles."

"Oh, ok"

Now, both of you stood there awkwardly, your gazes locked, unsure of what to say or do next.

Then, she excused herself and hurriedly left to catch up with Vision, you assume . Their bond had been strong since the day he came. You think it's because of the Mind Stone, but it also was the day she began to distance herself.

Turning back to the bar, you signaled for another drink, hoping to make a stop to the swirling thoughts in your mind.

The rest of the night blurred , you just awoke the next morning in a friend's bed but not the one you wished you would have. She, too, possessed green eyes, but they were not the ones that haunted you.

Before Natasha awoke, you quietly slipped away to your own room.

Breakfast was an awkward affair; all eyes seemed to turn toward you as you walked in. Even Tony couldn't resist his playful jab, sending his regards for a "very fun night".

You want the floor to swallow you and never let you return.

What you didn't expect was Wanda settling beside you, her smile melting my heart and igniting a warmth within you.

Now, smiling foolishly idiot at your plate, you couldn't help but wonder what had happened yesterday night.

"Y/n we're both of duty want to watch a movie, I know there is some new movie that just came out you would like."

"Ah-h real-ly, I mean yeah, sure."

"Good I will come to your room after training."

You nodded with a big smile that reached your dark blue eyes.

Continuing to avoid Natasha, you took charge of planning the evening, gathering snacks and drinks, securing Tony's Beamer, and grabbing a few extra pillows for added comfort for both of you.

Natasha was puzzled, wondering why you had left before her. Knowing you weren't a morning person, it was unusual for you to be up before her, and she couldn't help but notice your attempts to avoid her.

Knowing Natasha's direct nature, she wasted no time and headed straight to your room,wanting an explanation, coincidentally crossing paths with Wanda along the way.

You opened the door with a smile that quickly faded when you saw Natasha standing there, her expression confused and determined.

"Sorry, wanda, I will steal her for a few minutes."

She nodded, looking at both concerned.

Natasha walked inside. She closed the door behind her and took a seat on your bed, her presence filling the room with an air of tension.

"What your problem ?"

"Mh no, no problem."

"Bullsh-t. I won't ask again."

With Wanda standing just outside, your nerves were on edge, uncertain if she was listening in on your conversation.

But with Natasha determined to talk things out, you knew she wouldn't leave until you had a conversation. So, despite your nerves, you began to talk.

"Look last night , what we did I-I was-/."

"Wait, what do you think we did ?"

"You know ."

"Yeah, no, we didn't, but this let's me know you don't remember anything, do you ?"

"Uh, you don't know how happy it makes me , I mean your coll and all, but .."

"I know you're madly in love with the one waiting outside your door."

"Sssh."

She laughed: "No, you don't remember."

"Remeber what ?"

"What you did."

"Why, what did I do ?"

"Talk to wanda."

With that, Natasha left, allowing Wanda to enter your room.

You were afraid to ask her, so you simply started the movie, hoping to distract yourself from the unresolved mystery.

That's when you began to grow close again, rekindling your movie nights and midnight talks and more. Despite the lingering tension, it felt like old times were finally returning.

Like today, she came over, and you talked about what had been happening with the others. Although you still didn't know what had transpired at that party you think you don't need ro know.

She shared her excitement about the new coffee shop she visited with Natasha, expressing her love for the cozy atmosphere and delicious drinks.

Seeing her talk so passionately once more made you yearn to hear her voice all the time. The way she becomrd excited over the smallest things reminded you to appreciate the little joys in your life.

She paused mid-sentence, her gaze shifting to me with a smile playing on her lips.

"What ?" You asked her.

"Nothing, I just like how you look at me like that. "

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, a definite hint of red coloring them in response to her.

Then she laughed sweetly and reached for your book from the bedside table, her laughter filling the room with a sense of lightness and warmth.

That night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep, the memory of that moment and her words replaying incessantly in your mind. Making you smile the whole night.

Tony barged in in the morning, disrupting the peace and quiet, as he rallied everyone to go to his ridiculous party.

Despite any reluctance, it seemed obligatory for all of you to participate. After all, it was his birthday, and Tony wouldn't let you forget it, making sure the day was one to remember for "centuries."

"Y/n, I will trop by to get ready with you, alright."

"Yeah, no problem, wands.

That's how you found yourselves getting ready together right now. You were lying on the bed while Wanda worked her magic, giving your makeup a makeover.

What was decently needed, her world not yours.

She was so focused on your makeup that you couldn't help but watch her, taking in every detail of her concentration and skill.

You noticed her mouth; she had a habit of biting her lips when she was concentrated, a subtle gesture that added to your sinking heart.

Just as if she could sense the moment Natasha barged in, questioning why it was taking so long. Wanda and you quickly pulled apart, distancing yourselves faster than you could even process the situation.

Natasha led both of you to the party, discussing her time to relax after her hard work. However, your attention was elsewhere as you found myself watching Wanda instead of listening to her.

And as usual at all parties, you drank, perhaps a little more than usual. Oh, the last party was far more than usual , so just you now.

As the night progressed, you couldn't help but wonder if Wanda felt the same way you did.

Your hands wrapped around her body as you danced together, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of something more, and she was bitting her lip in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You decently want to be more then friends.

After that party, confusion consumed you. The mixed signals from Wanda left you questioning everything.

So fucking confusing the way that she texts you ,keeps saying I love you. Does she really mean it ?

Especially when she bites her lips and looks at you like that.

Then, one night, on the team's get-together, you had only one drink, but that was enoth .

She came over , called it a girls' night, she took her clothes, you knew she was your type.

So you keep in this in touch because you want to touch each other.

Those nights were the worst and simultaneously the best you can have. Beacuse you had her, but it felt like you didn't. So, you truly have didnt had her at all.

This girls has you all messed up.

Natasha was the first to notice the change in your relationship. Wanda's shift in attention toward you instead of Vision didn't go unnoticed, and you weren't as sad as before, but also nit as happy as you should have been.

Lastly, she saw the two of you together in the middle of the night, a sight that confirmed her suspicions about the changing dynamics between Wanda and you.

As she noticed your lack of genuine happiness, she sat you down to talk, wanting to understand what was wrong now that you were finally with Wanda. But learning that Wanda and you weren't in a relationship and were just having fun took her by surprise ,cause she knew that both of us loved each other, which made the situation even more perplexing for her.

"Why don't you tell her ?"

"I can't, Tascha."

"Why not ? You two are basically made for each. "

"I remember Tascha."

"What ?"

"The night at the party."

"But that good then you should know ? I mean, you two were so into each other, and wanda was .."-/-?

"I tolled her I liked her."

"Wait you did ?"

"She said you're the best...."

"Oh"

"Yeah, oh , so I want to destroy what I have now."

Natasha didn't understand. Wanda had mentioned she was considering telling you, so why did she respond this way to your confessing?

She remembered overhearing Wanda and Vision talk about you. It waz Wanda wondering if you wanted to be more than just friends.

"Vision, I want to more than a friend .Do you think she feels the same ? Does she want me back ?" Wanda was wondering.

With Natasha's confusion, she concluded that the reason only could be miscommunication. So what could she do to help you ?

......

Sometimes, the stupidest ideas are the most effective. So yeah It sounds like a plan.

The next morning, both of you found a letter at the doorstep instructing you to meet Natasha in the training room.

Both of you went, uncertain of what Natasha wants and feeling nervous and unsure of each other's intentions (wanda and yours).

What they didn't know was that Natasha was waiting behind the door, instructing Friday to close it the moment both of us entered. She was determined to let you two have a private conversation and would fight anyone who thought now would be the perfect time to train.

Now, there you were, alone in a room with no escape, the awkwardness hanging heavily between you two.

And in that moment, amidst the palpable tension and uncertainty, you knew that whatever happened next would change everything.

Sitting on the bank, five meters apart, a comfortable and not so complex silence enveloped you. You started fidgeting with your fingers, and Wanda absentmindedly twirled her necklace.

"Y/n do you remember now ? Is that why Natacha locked us up."

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry we don't have to talk about it. o know we're we're just having fun, nothing new ."

"If you want it just to be fun, thats ok"

"If you want to."

Then, she turned to you and asked if you would be upset if she didn't want our relationship to be just fun anymore.

At first, you misunderstood, thinking she meant she didn't want to be with you in any sense anymore. But ypu soon realized you were strongly mistaken.

Wanda closed the distance between you two. Your lips met in a kiss filled with all the pent-up emotions, expressing all the longing, confusion, and love that had been building between you two. And in that moment, everything else faded away.

With your hearts racing and your breaths synced, you pulled back slightly, gazing into each other's eyes. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long," Wanda whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, more than words can express."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to cup her cheek. "I love you too, Wanda," you confessed, your voice filled with emotion. "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

With both of your heartfelt confessions, the fog of confusion that had clouded your relationship finally lifted, and everything became clear.

You were sure a bright future awaited you, and Wanda will be by my side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

In the end, it was clear that both of you wanted more than friends.

#emerald-taur #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda mcu #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #Spotify

[makethatelevenrings]

Somewhere Only We Know - FOUR

Chapter Warning: swearing, spoilers for 2x03, mediocre writing

Series Masterlist

“Fucking hell,” you grunted as you tried to balance a camera bag, your work bag, and the box of treats in your hand while simultaneously attempting to lock your car door. Glancing over your shoulder, you realized with dismay that after succeeding at this, you would somehow have to open the door to the training facility.

“Oi, babes, let me get that for you,” Keeley, your hero and savior, called. She exited her own car and took the large box out of your hands which considerably lightened the load on your arms.

“Y’know, if you needed me to kill someone, I would do it without question,” you gasped out as you finally locked the door to your car. She grinned and bumped her shoulder against yours.

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. What’s today’s treat?”

“Blueberry and strawberry muffins. Blue and red, like Richmond’s colors.”

“Fucking brilliant. Have I told you that yet? You’re fucking brilliant.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up for more sweets.”

Keeley batted her lashes at you and shrugged. “I might be, but I’m not lying. I wouldn’t be opposed to some brandy snaps if you ever make those.”

You chuckled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Keeley led the way to the locker rooms through the maze of halls. The blonde announced herself with a loud “knock, knock” before she pushed her way in. You set your camera bag and work bag down so you could take the box and free up her hands.

“Sam, I think I have something you might want to see,” Keeley exclaimed. “You want to look at your photos from the Dubai Air shoot?”

He had taken the photos a few weeks ago and they had the edits done in no time, giving you and Keeley a chance to come up with a few ideas on how to promote it.

“Ooo, yes please. I am very nervous, but also very excited. That’s similar to whenever Colin drives me anywhere in his Lamborghini.”

“Ah, it’s true. It’s way too much car for me,” Colin agreed. Having witnessed him trying to back out of a parking space yesterday, you knew it to be true. The boys gathered around to look at the photo and, of course, they all started ribbing him. In the short time you worked here, you quickly learned that these boys cared deeply for one another but didn’t hesitate to tease them endlessly. Despite the fact that you were still unsure about your place at AFC Richmond, you were warming up to them and, in turn, added onto the teasing when you had the chance.

“Sam, how does it feel to be the new face of teenage vandalism?”

“It’s remarkable. I feel honored,” he jested in earnest.

“Bro, why are you wearing your kit on the plane?” Bumbercatch added.

“It’s the only way they know he’s a footballer.” Jamie Tartt’s insufferable voice piped up above the crowd. Every head turned towards him, including yours. From what Colin had told you, Jamie hadn’t been the kindest guy in the locker room and it certainly seemed as though he had it out for Sam. Probably because Sam was a damn good player and Jamie was, well, an insecure twat.

His face fell and he recognized that his joke didn’t land. It’s hard to land a joke if all you were known for was cruelty. Hefting up the box in your hand, you lifted the lid to display the muffins inside to the boys.

“A little Richmond treat,” you announced before slamming the lid down before Jan Maas could grab one. “That you will receive after practice because there is no way in hell I’m being blamed for you all puking on the pitch.”

“But…” Bumbercatch whined.

“No.” You were firm but your eyes glinted with humor. “If you puke, you owe me a hundred. Do you want to be indebted to me?”

“No, ma’am,” they mumbled and began to disperse. You headed into the office to give Beard a muffin and to also store the box away until after practice. Keeley instructed the boys on joining Bantr as you placed a muffin on his desk.

“Your blueberry muffin,” you announced.

“I could kill a man for your food,” he replied, practically pouncing on the treat.

“I’m…not sure if that’s a joke or not.” But you thanked him nonetheless and tucked your box into the hiding place Beard made for you with the promise that he got first dibs. You walked back out into the locker room just in time to see Jamie fucking Tartt standing up and opening his big mouth. Oh, this had to be good. You leaned against the doorframe to the office and watched him put his proverbial foot in his mouth.

“I know I wasn’t the greatest teammate. I did some shitty things. I said some shitty things. But I want each and every one of you to know that I’m truly sorry and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it up to ya. Yeah?.” Was this some kind of Twilight Zone? Or was Jamie Tartt actually apologizing for his behavior?

Silence met his declaration and you almost started to feel bad for the guy when Colin piped up.

“You called me a jaundiced worm.”

“Right, yeah. I’m sorry about that, Colin.”

“In a profile for my hometown paper.” You held back the snort of laughter that threatened to escape you. Sure, Colin was probably the closest friend you’ve made on the team next to Keeley, but jaundiced worm was kind of funny.

“You hit on my mum,” Bumbercatch interjected. “In front of my dad.”

“I apologize for that, Bumbercatch. Please tell your father I’m sorry. And give Janice me best, yeah?”

You muffled your laugh into your hand and turned so your back was to the team. Christ, that was funny as hell. The room descended into shouts, both French and English, as everyone tore into Jamie. Hell, you did start to feel bad for the guy. But he asked for this.

Ted directed the team to go outside for practice and you pushed off the wall, intent on following so you could get some good shots for the various social media platforms. Grabbing your bags, you sidled up next to Colin.

“A jaundiced worm?” you choked out through a laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s a creative insult, though.”

“My da thought it was next to the funniest thing he’s heard since Thatcher croaked,” he complained.

You patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, if you were a worm, I’d still be your friend.”

A sniffle from behind you drew your attention to Dani who wiped a tear away. “That was a beautiful thing to say.”

That set off another round of laughter but this time Colin joined in. At least you were able to make him laugh after all the chaos. Practice wasn’t bitterly cold this week, but you were still bundled up in a jacket, gloves, and a Richmond beanie. You wished bitterly that you had a hot coffee or tea right now, but you knew they would be waiting for you back in your office. Fumbling with your camera, you tried to keep your fingers from growing stiff from the cold. Your focus was on the screen in front of you to see if you had enough photos from today so you could go inside.

That’s when you heard someone shout your name.

Your head snapped up just in time to see a ball flying towards you. With a yelp, you ducked and it slammed into the wall behind you before bouncing back and hitting your legs. It stung but it wasn’t as bad as a direct hit.

“Are you alright?” Sam exclaimed as he jogged over. You scooped up the ball and tossed it towards him. He caught it easily, but didn’t leave. This team was full of softies.

“I’m fine, Sam. Truly. I guess that’s a sign I should head in and start editing these.” You lifted your camera with a shrug and then bent down to pick up your bags. Before you straightened up, another voice joined Sam’s.

“I am so, so sorry,” Jamie Tartt apologized. “The ball just got away from me and I put too much power behind it and-”

“It’s not a big deal. No harm, no foul, right? I’m fine. Seriously.”

Sam shot Jamie a dirty look but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want the boys blaming Jamie for a genuine accident. You knew that standing on the edge of the pitch was always a risk. And you hadn’t been paying attention. That was your fault, not his.

“Go practice before Nate blows his whistle,” you said. Maybe you could go get some work done at the cafe Keeley introduced you to. That would get you away from the prying eyes and constant questions. As much as you appreciated working at Richmond, you weren’t the kind of person who would delve their entire being into their work. Everyone here seemed intent on being close-knit and connected. You were just the girl that posted shit on Twitter.

Keeley approved your idea of working at the cafe and reminded you that you didn’t need to constantly update her on your whereabouts. She was a very chill boss and if you kept delivering quality content, she really didn’t care where you got your work done. That found you at a small table tucked into the corner with your laptop in front of you and a half-drunk vanilla latte clasped between your hands. Steam curled off the top of the mug and you inhaled it, drunk on the heady scent of coffee and the warmth it provided.

You were so engrossed in your work that the plate being laid in front of you made you nearly jump out of your skin. Heather, one of the baristas, grinned at your surprise but apologized.

“I didn’t order this,” you protested.

“I know,” she retorted and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “He did.”

Jamie Tartt stood at the counter with a to-go cup dangling in his hands and a sheepish smile on his lips. He had some stupid baseball cap on his head that proclaimed him as an ICON and his flashy clothes made you roll your eyes but you gestured for him to join you.

“I just wanted to apologize for almost hitting ya,” he explained. “And I figured you like pastries and stuff so…yeah.”

“Sit down if you’d like,” you offered. He fidgeted for a moment before accepting your offer and sitting across from you. “I’ve been meaning to set up a meeting with you, to be honest.”

“With me? What’d I do? Don’t tell me the jacuzzi pictures are back.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes once more and sighed. “No, I meet with everyone to discuss their social media presence, goals, and management they might work with. It’s to make sure I can cater to you all while building a steady presence.”

He sat back, his eyebrows raised, and nodded. “That…is smart. I’ve got a manager but, I don’t know, I’m not really sure he’s helping me.”

“Is he the one that convinced you to do a reality show?” You hid the disdain over that choice well because he clearly didn’t notice.

“Nah, that was all me. I won’t be doing that again, by the way. I don’t really have any goals, yeah? Nothing for the socials, that is. I should but…” He shrugged. “Gotta figure out what I’m doing with the team first.”

The day’s events flashed through your mind, from him being absolutely demolished in the locker room to the boys ignoring him on the pitch. Jamie looked genuinely defeated by today. His shoulders curved in, giving him the appearance of a boy protecting himself against the world. Something told you that it was a familiar position for him to be in.

“Have you ever considered that the team needs to see you be part of them rather than just hear apologies and see no change?” As you spoke, you unwrapped the muffin and cut it in half before putting one half on the wrapper and placing it in front of you and pushing the plate with the other half in front of him. Jamie opened his mouth to refuse, but you merely raised an eyebrow. He gratefully broke off a piece and ate it, chewing on the sweet as though he was chewing on your words.

“I dunno. I don’t think they’ll ever see me as anything but the twat I was.”

“Then make them see.”

Doubt painted his features, but you weren’t going to entertain his insecurities right now. Instead, you flipped your laptop around and showed him the photo you were editing. “Got any caption ideas for this?”

The two of you sat in the small cafe for nearly three hours, drawing up ideas for posts and analyzing pictures. Jamie was a genuinely funny person when he wasn’t insulting someone and you found yourself laughing at his quips more than you expected.

By the time you realized the sun had set, it was well past the time you normally get home. “Shit, I better get home. I need to prepare stuff for my other job.”

Jamie silently stood as you packed up all your stuff. You expected him to just say his goodbyes and leave you there, but he surprised you once more. He carried the dishes up to the counter and then doubled back to help carry your camera bag and laptop case, leaving you with just your purse.

“It’s dark. I’ll walk you to your car,” he explained.

“Thank you.” He acknowledged your thanks with a dip of his chin and then followed you outside into the cold winter air. You really needed to pull out your bigger coat because it was just going to get colder. Your teeth were chattering by the time you reached your car parked on the street. Jamie stowed your bags in the passenger seat and then he stepped back from your car and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. You couldn’t stop the small smile from slipping across your lips.

“Yeah. Have a good night, Jamie.”

He waited until you were in the driver's seat before he walked off in search of his own vehicle. Cranking the heat on high, you took a moment to relax back against the soft fabric of your car seat and exhale a deep breath.

Maybe Jamie Tartt wasn’t the twat you thought he was.

Maybe, just maybe, you should practice what you preach and give him a chance to show you that he’s changed.

Tag List: @shiptheship​ @teigo-the-explorer​ @geeksareunique​ @queenofthekill​ @actuallybarb​ @for-fucks-sake-im-alive @maggiecc​ @alipap3​

#jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt series #ted lasso fanfic #somewhereverse #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

[captainsophiestark]

The Best-Laid Plans

Platonic!Annabeth Chase x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: Annabeth's best friend and older sibling figure since she ran away at seven helps her execute the perfect birthday surprise for Percy in their first year at college.

Word Count: 1,306

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: To those new to the fandom from the tv show, weclome! This fic has hella spoilers for future books, so be warned

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I just want to do something special for him. It's his first birthday away from home, and I can tell it's bothering him."

I hummed, twirling my dagger and staring at the ceiling while kicked back on my couch. Such was the life of a demigod, that we fiddled with weapons like fidget toys.

"And there's no way you guys can go back?" I finally asked. Annabeth, my little sister in every way but blood, shook her head.

"We've got orientation for the next week and a half, including his birthday. It's the only reason we're here so early in the first place. We can't miss it."

I frowned. Annabeth and her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, had just started college at New Rome University. They'd gotten to the Bay Area yesterday, which I'd been incredibly excited about. Annabeth and I had been attached at the hip since I was eleven and she was seven, when we'd met as runaway demigods. Out of our little group, Annabeth and I had stayed the closest. After the Titan War, I'd decided to go USF, the muggle university in San Francisco. Leaving her had been the hardest part.

Now, luckily for me, she and Percy had moved out here too. Annabeth had finished unpacking and setting up her dorm room within a few hours of arrival, and so had some free time this morning to spend hanging out with me. Percy had not, so he was otherwise occupied on their last day before school activities started.

"Well, I'm happy to help with whatever you want to do, Annabeth," I said. She sighed, chewing at her lip and staring out the window of my apartment as she thought. "Maybe you could show him around the Bay Area? He probably hasn't spent much time out here, has he?"

"I really haven't either," she said. "I've barely been back since I was a kid."

"True..."

"Maybe we could go on a tour of New Rome? Percy told me he wanted to show me around, but I don't want to make him be the tour guide for his birthday."

"Yeah."

The two of us fell silent for a moment, thinking things through. Then, like a blast of lightning from Thalia, an idea hit me.

"What if you baked him some cookies or something? He's probably already missing his mom's baking."

Annabeth shot up straight in her seat, staring at me with wide eyes.

"That is the perfect idea. Can I make them here?"

"Of course! I'm not going to make you use the shared freshman kitchens."

Annabeth grinned, then stood and headed to the kitchen table. I watched her go with interest as she pulled out a notebook and pen and started scribbling away.

"Uh... Annabeth?"

"Making a plan. Don't worry about it."

I grinned to myself. My little sister was nothing if not predictable.

A few days later, Annabeth managed to sneak away from Percy and orientation to come back to my place for a baking party. Percy's birthday was tomorrow, so we only had tonight to get everything ready.

"I came up with the perfect plan," she said in lieu of greeting as she pushed past me and into the apartment. I smiled after her, joining her in the kitchen as she plopped down a massive bag of baking supplies. "I got the recipe, I timed everything out, I got a ton of blue food coloring. By the end of the day, the perfect birthday surprise will be completed."

"I'd never doubt a plan from Athena," I said, giving her a smile. "Just tell me what to do, and I'm on it."

"Right. Well, first we need to preheat the oven."

That was about the only part of the plan that ended up going off without a hitch. Annabeth didn't bake often, and she'd happened to choose a pretty difficult cookie recipe. I did my best to help, but I didn't have a lot of experience in the area either, so things went quickly off the rails. Just under two hours later, the two of us stood in the kitchen covered in flower, eggs, and bits of way too watery dough, staring at the absolute disaster of a mess we'd created on the counter.

"This was not part of the plan," she said. I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing.

"I don't know, I think sugar cookies are supposed to be so wet we can't pick them up," I joked. I turned to see Annabeth with a very serious frown on her face.

"I haven't had a plan fail this miserably in... a long time."

"Well, I think it's probably time for plan B. That can be your redemption."

Annabeth's frown just deepened, so I did what any good sibling would do and took it upon myself to cheer her up. By throwing a wad of dough in her face, of course.

Her mouth dropped open in shock as sugary, goopy dough dripped off her chin. Then she whirled on me with a fierce look and fire in her eyes that I recognized from the few times she'd really been on the warpath for capture the flag.

"That was a mistake."

She picked up the nearest glob of dough and chucked it at me as I tried to dodge. It hit me in the back with a thunk, and I cackled before turning around to reengage with a clump of flour.

The baking battle raged for a few fierce minutes, before Annabeth and I slipped in some dough on the floor while wrestling to smear more of the stuff on each others' heads. We collapsed in a heap, both of us laughing like crazy people.

"That was so worth everything that came before it," I declared, slumping against the nearest kitchen cabinet. Annabeth immediately followed suit, leaving us shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the mess.

"What about the cleanup that comes after?"

"Also worth it, especially since I have you here to help me."

Annabeth snorted, but didn't say anything. After a minute of comfortable silence, she sighed.

"What am I gonna do for Percy's birthday tomorrow?"

"Well, were the cookies the only plan?"

"No... He took me to one of his favorite spots in the city a few days ago, so I planned a picnic for the two of us there. The cookies were going to be the final surprise."

"Well, there you go then. The rest of the plan remains intact. If you wanted to, you could even make him a little coupon or something that promises 'one day of baking cookies' or something like that, and the two of you can pick an easier but still delicious recipe to try."

Annabeth looked at me with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"Would you let us use your kitchen again?"

I shrugged. "Sure. Maybe Percy's better at baking than us. And even if he's not, having someone who can control water to help us with cleanup will at least make a round two of this easier."

Annabeth smiled and huffed a laugh, leaning against me.

"Thanks. For this, and for everything. I'm really glad you're here in San Francisco with us."

I smiled too, reaching out to put one arm around Annabeth. We'd known each other more than a decade, and we'd both changed so much. But our relationship had stayed the same.

"Any time, Annabeth. You know I'm always here for you." The two of us sat there for a minute, taking a breather and appreciating each other's company, and then I sighed. "Alright, time to get the cleaning stuff out. This is going to take hours."

"You know, I actually have a lot of coursework I need to get started on-"

"Nice try, but it's orientation. And even if you were in the middle of finals, you wouldn't be getting out of this."

"Fine. But next time, let's plan to avoid the massive kitchen food fight."

I grinned. "Sure. We can plan on that."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

Riordanverse: @valkyriepirate

#percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #annabeth chase #platonic!annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson oneshot #annabeth chase fanfiction #annabeth chase oneshot #annabeth chase imagine #new rome university #camp jupiter #new rome #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #pjo #hoo #sophie's year of fic

[pennylanefics]

Summer Lovin' - Surfer!Jake Kiszka | Chapter 2

a/n: starting to see a bit more of jake! :) i promise things will get exciting soon, i’m just trying take my time with this project and make it something i’m super proud of 💕

The days go by and now, you are finally settled into your home for the next three months. All of your stuff was put away and the small amount of decorations that you usually bring with you to put up were out. This included photos of friends and family, a new set of fairy lights for when you want limited lighting at night, and some shells and such that you’ve found on past trips.

The day after you went to the beach, Hazel came to your room to apologize for her actions when it came to dealing with you watching Jake. You just brushed it off, knowing that she didn’t mean it with ill intent, and told her that you were still jet-lagged, so you were a bit snippy.

The smell of pancakes and bacon awakes you from your slumber, and you rise out of bed and throw on a hoodie that was balled up in the chair right next to the window. Walking out into the kitchen and dining room, you find Donovan sitting at the table, coloring in his activity book to pass time.

“Got any plans today?” Your mom asks you as you take a seat at the head of the table, a couple seats away from Donovan.

“I was just thinking of laying around and reading. I got a little burnt yesterday so I don’t want to go back out in the sun,” you explain, letting out a yawn.

“Will you take me to the maritime museum?” Donovan looks up from his book to ask you.

“What’s that?” You wonder just as your mom sets a plate down in front of both of you, walking back into the kitchen.

“It’s got stuff about like boats and how people crossed oceans and shipped stuff,” he explains vaguely, but well enough for an eight-year-old. He has always been interested in pirates and things alike, but especially things like boats and ships, from the 1500s to Titanic, to modern times with cruise ships and all.

“Sure, that sounds fun.”

Soon enough, after finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you and Donovan were taking the short walk from your house to the maritime museum that was right near the pier, a one-story museum, though it seemed pretty big from the outside.

Today, with it being Tuesday, kids under ten got in for free, so you just had to pay for your own admission, which was a quick and easy process.

“And would you like to do the guided tour for kids?” The lady working at the desk asks after handing you your card back. Looking down at Donovan, he excitedly nods, eliciting a small laugh from you. You glance back up and smile at the woman and nod.

“Yes, please.”

“Great. Just stand off to the side over here and your tour guide should be out soon.”

Donovan skips over to the group of adults and kids waiting, and you take a second to look around the open space. Small models of ships sat a few feet apart with descriptions of them on a plaque in front of it, and a few paintings hung on the walls here and there.

The biggest one was of a ship during what appeared to be a storm, the waves crashing against the wood, a huge contrast from the dark blue sea and white wisps that give the water dimension and a sense of movement.

As you are gazing around, a loud voice rings out through the hall, grabbing the attention of the group you are standing with.

“Aye kiddos! I hear that yer wantin’ to take a tour through this here museum!” The tour guide appears shouting, dressed as a pirate with an eye patch, a fake parrot on his shoulder, and a puffy black shirt with a white ruffled undershirt, typical pirate attire. And, to top everything off, a brimmed hat sat perfectly on his blond locks.

Even through the costume and obviously fake accent, you recognized him right away. The unique and cute curve of his button nose, his structured jawline, and the gold hoops that sat in his earlobes gave him away; but you weren’t going to make that known.

“My name’s Jake, and if you have any questions about anything, feel free to stop and ask. Aye?”

The kids all respond with a collective “aye” and Jake chuckles before stepping back.

“If you guys would follow me, we will get started. So here, we have a model of the very first merchant ship that was recorded.”

Jake explains the story behind the ship, what was mainly transported, and from what countries. He explained what working on the crew would have been like, who was in charge of setting the sails and everything, and who was in charge of unloading the supplies when docked. Of course, while keeping his accent up, and making it less boring so the kids didn’t lose interest.

“And we move on to this next ship, which was built not too long after the first, but had major improvements. More wood slats so that it was stronger against harsh currents, bigger sails, lots of things!”

The parents and guardians all stand behind the group of kids crowded around the model, and as they look over the ship, Jake’s eyes - or well, eye - darts over to you, as if he recognizes you as well. A small grin tugs at the corners of his lips, but he goes right back to the group.

“Okay. I’m gonna bring you into this next part, and I think you’re gonna like this one a lot,” he gestures for everyone to follow, the children giggling as he excitedly moves on.

There was a small area with a very small scale version of the docus just outside of the building, however, it was interactive and made for children to play in. Water filled the one end, simulating the ocean, that got shallower as it got closer to the docks. There were also toy ships and small sail boats floating in the water, as well as small brown blocks that were similar to packages.

“Here is where you can pretend to be a crew member of a ship, sailing the seas and docking your ship. Go ahead! Have a little fun! Parents, don’t worry, there are paper towels and a bathroom if you need to dry off clothes.”

Everyone chuckles altogether as the group of kids plays and splashes in the water. You were talking to a couple moms, explaining how he’s your little brother and he wanted to come here today, when Jake catches your eye again. However this time, his eye patch was resting on his forehead, so both of his gorgeous brown irises were visible.

With a smirk, he sends you a wink, locking his hands behind his back and swaying back and forth on his feet. Looking away, you check back in on Donovan, who is laughing and pushing the fake ships with another kid that appeared to be around his age.

After a few more minutes, everyone gathers their child and dries them off with paper towels. Donovan took it upon himself to wipe his arms, and thankfully, his shirt didn’t get too wet so he wasn’t going to be too uncomfortable for the rest of the tour.

Jake stands off on the other side of the wall where a large screen sits, with a very detailed frame of what appeared to be the beach, shells, ships, everything you associate the beach with. Jake stands in front of the screen with a piece of paper and holds his hand up to quiet the group down.

“Moving on! We have another little activity for you guys. You’re going to color your own ships! And then…you put your piece of paper under this scanner, and watch as magic happens…” His voice tapers off as he turns around, sets the paper underneath the scanner he pointed to, and within a few seconds, a digital image of the ship that was colored in appeared on the screen.

‘Oohs’, ‘ahhs’, and excited cheers ring through the group, and Jake brings them over to a section of small tables, all with photos of the same pirate ship and markers to color with. Just like before, the parents converse amongst themselves to pass time, but you take a moment to look around the room.

You come up to a painting of a rich merchant, studying the details and reading the plaque that explains his life and how he became the most successful merchant in Newport, or what is known as Newport today.

“Do you happen to be stalking me?” Whipping around, you find Jake standing behind you, his eye patch still off, a playful smirk on his lips. For the moment, his voice was back to normal, the soft, velvety sound you already grew to know so well, just based on not even ten minutes of being in his shop.

You feel heat rise up your neck and you glance over at Donovan, coloring away at his paper, looking over at his new friend’s work.

“Oh, uh, n-no. I promise I’m not. It’s-it’s just that we’re here for the summer and finding stuff to do and it’s just a very weird coincidence that-”

“Relax, love, I’m only teasing,” he cuts your blabbering off with a gentle touch to your arm. Immediately, your skin feels like it’s on fire from it, and even after his fingertips are no longer touching you.

It’s a dizzying feeling, really. And you just wanted more.

“Oh. Well, my family just got here for the summer and my brother wanted to come here today since I had no plans.”

“No plans? You should try surfing,” he winks. You chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m not sure I’d be so good,” you attempt to lie, but Jake catches it.

“It’s a good thing you met me, though. I’m a pro. I’ll help you.” Again, you try to be nice and decline his offer, but he reaches out for you again, his fingers brushing along forearm.

“Um, I p-prefer to just sit on the beach, read, look for shells, maybe walk along the shoreline. I’m not really a sporty type so I don’t think I’d do so hot.” Jake just laughs and shrugs it off.

“If you ever change your mind, you know where my shop is.” With that, he walks over to the kids, a couple of whom finished their coloring and were ready to turn their masterpieces into a moving picture.

Jake helps the kids one by one scan their photos and step back to watch as their ship pops up, moving with the ebb and flow of the waves being projected on the screen.

“That is a lovely boat, young lady! My crew should’ve had you construct the Iron Rose for us back when she was destroyed amongst the waves!” He compliments a young girl’s design, reverting back to his pirate voice and persona.

When Donovan’s turn to put his ship up, he stands there as Jake scans it, and just like he does with every kid, he gasps in awe at how cool it looks, and gives him a high five. Donovan runs right over to you, pointing to the screen.

“Do you see my ship? It looks so cool, right?” He asks. Gazing up, you find his ship immediately, as you were watching the whole ordeal play out. Well…you were watching Jake interact with the kids, it is very charming.

“I do! It looks really good!”

“I modeled it after the Oseberg Ship in Norway, the most well-preserved Viking ship.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about that one. I see it now!”

A few more kids are left to scan their pages, and with each one, you study him. How he kneels down to their height for a moment to look over their design, then standing back up to help them put it underneath the scanner. How he points to the side of the screen that their ship pops out on and how he manages to put a huge grin on every single kids’ face.

Soon enough, Jake regroups everyone to continue the rest of the tour. And at the end, he asked if anyone had any questions. Of course, with kids being kids, they have to ask questions that don’t entirely matter, but they have this sort of…morbid curiosity about.

“What happened to the sailors that were lost at sea? Were they eaten by sharks?” A kid near the front asks. The thought makes your blood run cold, and you want to so badly walk away.

“Well, there are some that we assume were either eaten by sharks, but a majority of them just drowned. The seas are a very scary place!”

With that sentence, you take a few steps back and walk to the other side, though unfortunately, Jake’s voice was carrying through the echoing room. And, as much as he tried to not look away, he couldn’t help but notice the way you walked off, trying to hide the concerned look growing on his face.

As they continue to ask questions, you try and focus hard on reading the plaques placed around with information about pieces or looking out the window at the docks and the people passing by. Jake clapping loudly brings you back down to earth, though.

“Alright, well that concludes this tour. I hope everyone enjoyed it and come back and see us sometime soon! Argh!” You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips as you walk back over to find Donovan.

“You wanna buy something from the gift shop?” You ask. He nods eagerly and takes off, allowing you to hang back for a bit.

“Hey, are you alright? You walked off near the end there,” Jake comes up to you, his hat off, the accent dropped, and the eye patch completely removed from his head.

“Yeah, yeah. I just missed some of the pieces in that area and wanted to see them.”

Before Jake can respond, you walk away, and he sighs softly, watching as you find your little brother, who excitedly holds up a replica ship model made of plastic. Jake walks over to a co-worker of his, who follows his gaze to you.

“Someting up?” The young guy asks the blond man, still somewhat dressed as a pirate.

“I keep seeing her and I want to get to know her, but she’s…”

“Refusing? Rejecting you?”

“She just seems…not interested.” Jake’s expression falls as you walk over to the counter, trying to ignore him, but it’s hard. You were still trying to come down from the slight panic you had at the topic that was brought up.

Jake sighs softly again and walks to the back room, not knowing that your eyes were following him the entire time he walked away.

-

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[katierosedreams2]

Im not a sissy…5

The school year has just flown by! It felt like just yesterday when I was dressed in my latex maid outfit, covered in cum, getting locked into my new ultra-micro chastity cage. I can hardly remember the crazy year we have had. So many parties! So many cocks! I can’t even clearly remember them all. And I’ve almost completely forgotten what it was like to not be a sissy slut. It feels more like it was a movie I had watched once rather than my own previous life.

If I really think back to when I was a child, I feel more like I was a girl dressed like a boy, rather than an actual boy. It’s weird how that works. Today I woke up excited, It was the end of the school year and Kailey and we had both finished our finals! Even though we partied and snuck into so many bars, we also studied a lot. That was one of the conditions of her parents for us to live in their apartment. We must get good grades. I always felt busy. Between getting ready for each day, studying, partying and cleaning the house, I had almost no free time anymore. 

Today I got up and walked to the bathroom to pee. I slept naked last night. The weather had been perfect to keep the windows open, but not too hot to need to run the AC. I saw my reflection in the mirror as I entered and saw my thin girly body with this small metal thing. Looking down, it was perfectly flat from my view. I looked so feminine. I also looked so skinny! Kailey has had me on a very very strict diet recently. I swear it’s been mostly water, booze, and cum! What has my life become? 

I started the shower and got in to shave and wash my long blond hair. It takes so long to shower, so so many products to make me pretty. But I guess it’s worth it. I do feel pretty! I got out and dyed off with our big, soft, fluffy towels. I then spent a long time drying my hair and then doing my makeup.  I knew I was going to put my hair up in a pony tail and I wanted a more natural look for my makeup. Lots of mascara and natural colored eye shadow, and not too dramatic either. I put my hair in a high ponytail and went to pick out my outfit. It’s going to be an exciting day, a nice day for a party to kick off summer. 

I picked out this super cute black vinyl bikini set and a matching skirt as a cover up and paired it with a pair of Pleaser 6 inch strap heels, also black in color, of course. I laid them out carefully on my perfectly made bed. I then put on one of my maid's uniforms. A short sleeveless dress maid of satin. I slipped into some black pumps and left my room to go start Kaileys coffee as I do every morning. 

She was already up and sitting on the couch watching tv and shopping on her phone. Her make-up and hair were already done to perfection but she was still in her pjs. Pink satin short shorts and a small white tank top. “Good morning girl! How are you doing today!” I called to her from the kitchen as I made us both a cup of coffee. “Hey sissy girl! Wow, you look so cute! Are you excited for today?” She replied as she turned to see me. 

“I’m very excited! Although I have no idea who you have invited!” I spoke as I worked, knowing my time to finish my chores and get ready was very short. “Oh don’t worry, I think you’ll really enjoy our guest!” As Kailey spoke I could hear her smile in her voice. 

I’ve come to learn exactly what she meant. This was going to be a sex party. And with all of this studying we have been doing the last few weeks, I haven’t even had time to even think about sucking a real cock, let alone have one actually rammed down my throat. I could feel the thought making my little clitty leak in its cage. I can’t believe I’m actually excited about this. Excited to suck and gage on a superior dick! To get fucked by men with big thick massive cocks! And get filled and covered in cum! I can’t believe I’ve just become so incredibly horny and desperate that being used to please a real man gives me enough pleasure alone to make me cum!

I’ve only came twice since Kailey locked me in my new chastity. Although the last time nothing really came out at all. I just leaked some clear fluid. I think between the tightness of my chastity cutting off almost all cerculation to my tiny testicals and the hormones I’ve been taking have ruined me for good. I truly just get wet now, and I cum just like the sissy girl I have been forced to become. 

I swayed my hips seductively as my heels clicked against the floor to hand Kailey her coffee. I don't really walk any other way these days. The thought of sucking cock still on my mind. “Thanks Rose! You’re a wonderful sissy girl! Oh and when you make my bed, can you please change the sheets first. I finally had time to use my favorite dildo last night and I can’t believe it but I ended up squirting all over my bed! I pasted out shortly afterward from the incredible orgasm, so I wasn’t able to do it myself!” 

“Lucky you! I still haven’t cum since that club we went to downtown and those four guys took us into that back room.” I said without thinking much about it as I walked away. We both know she’s cum almost every single day I’ve been in chastity. “Oh well I’m sorry to hear that sweetie. You just need more dick I guess!” I could tell she wasn’t actually sorry for me. I know she loves my horny misery. It really seems to turn her on when I’m desperate and denied. 

I’ve gotten so used to this, and have found myself truly giving in, all of my will power crushed, excepting my life as it is. I couldn’t help but agree with her. “I know right!” I spoke almost absent-minded as I walked off to her room to change her sheets. I stripped the dirty sheets off of her bed and I thought back as to how I got here. With Trent forcing me to become a sissy and now Kailey keeping me this way. I can’t even remember what it was like to wear boy's clothes or even leave the house without makeup. The thought frightened me. Leave the house without makeup! Oh god, I don’t think I could ever do that! 

These girly thoughts didn’t scare me. I actually felt comforted by them. As I worked, my mind wondered, and by the time I finished changing the sheets and had the old ones in the wash, my mind was on boys. How many guys were coming over today? How big would their cocks be? How much would they cum? My mind was fixated on them. I’ve come to learn that pleasing a real man's dick is the only way I can get any pleaser myself. 

“You’re thinking about sucking cock aren’t you?!” Kailey shouted from behind. I didn’t know she was there and I literally jumped from surprise! Also, how did she know?? “What?! No.” I hardly got out, not even convincing myself. 

“Ha! You are! I knew it!” Kailey was overjoyed with this fact. “How did you know?” I didn’t even try to fight it. It didn’t even seem worth it. “You start moving extra seductively and you have this cute little smile and this sparkle in your eyes.” She said with this big pretty smile on her face. “It’s super cute! I love seeing just how much you have grown!” 

I could only blush. I felt complimented and proud by what she was saying. I knew I should fight this, but too much of me wanted this. And my wet panties were just another sign of this fact. 

I worked quickly on my chores with the time the party was to start rapidly approaching. We were going to have the party on our very large patio. I worked my butt off making sure everything was perfect, clean, and that there were plenty of snacks and drinks. I was changing out of my maid uniform and into my outfit for the party as I heard a knock at the door, shortly followed by the clicking of Kailys heels to answer it. I could hear her greet the guests and welcome them in. The deep voices of a large group of men filled the halls and I couldn’t help but feel aroused. I have been so horny and I truly have been opening up to accept myself as the slut I have become.

I checked my outfit and hair in the mirror, quickly applied more lipgloss and then rushed out of my room to see our guests! As I turned the corner, I saw 5 guys all standing around Kailey. The shortest of them probably being 6 feet, but most well above that. Even in her heels Kailey was dwarfed by the strong, tall, masculine men. 

There was just enough time for the men to notice me when another knock on the door came. Since I was closest, I’d answer the door. “Hey guys! Thanks for coming! I’ll be right back, I’ll just go get the door!” I said, not even trying to hide my excitement and arousal. I walked as seductively as I could, hoping I was sexy enough to keep all of them staring at my very perky ass. 

I opened the door to a very large group of very tall strong men mixed in with them were some of our girl friends dressed just as sexy and slutty as Kailey and I. “Hey every one! Come in, let’s party!” A wave of cheers was yelled back as a response from the group. The mixture of the men's deep voices talking and the clicking of the girls high heels filled our house instantly. Most men weren’t wearing much, short board shorts an a tank top at most. I could tell none of them were wearing underwear and I couldn’t help but stare at every guy and just be amazed and aroused by how big each one’s dick was! They were completely massive! 

Kailey and I somehow got the large group of people to head outside on to our patio. The weather was warm, but not hot. Our very large hot tube was on a cool setting, so it would be refreshing. The music was good, and the booze was flowing. Before long, all of us girls were grinding and dancing with several guys each. 

I was grinding my ass against a guy's huge cock. He grabbed my hips, forcing me against him, guiding my movements as my vinyl skirt slipped smoothly over his shorts, making his dick throb with every movement. The guy in front of me held my head as he stuck his tongue down my throat, keeping me from escaping his kisses. My hands couldn’t push them away either, as they were both busy rubbing the cocks over top the shorts of the men on either sides of me. I was trapped by these real men, already being used as their plaything, and my little clitty trapped in its cage leaked more than it had in some time. If erections were even possible for me, which they aren’t, I’d be as hard as a rock. 

I was in heaven. I lost track of everything else going on around me other than these four horny men making me feel so small and girly. I haven’t done a single thing to a girl that anyone of these real men are doing to me. I never will. I am a failure as a man. I am a weak sissy girl. A slutty sissy faggot, and the thought couldn’t have turned me on more. I let out a loud moan as I made out with the giant of a man. And as my ass rubbed against the cock desperately trying to turn it on so much that he finally disregards my consent and fuck me so hard. I can’t stand it, my hands frantically finding the waistbands of the shorts of both the guys on my sides. My pretty manicured finger tips gently and seductively pulling down their shorts and wrapping around their huge dicks. They gently rubbed up and down the large hard shafts. The guy behind me saw this and finally got the message. 

“Get this horny little slut over there!” I heard him yell out to the other men. He then grabbed me by my hips and picked me up. The two on my side both grabbed my hands and the guy I was kissing grabbed the hair on the back of my head. They carried me like a little sex doll over to one of the small tables we had. They pinned me down on my stomach. My high heels hardly on the ground, leaving my ass sticking out in the air. As they pinned me down, the guy in front of me threw his shorts down and just as my head hung off the other side of the small table, his massive cock approached my mouth. I eagerly opened my mouth to accept one of the most perfect dicks I'd ever seen. Excited I was going to be used for his pleaser and the pleaser of all the other men. I immediately gagged by it’s huge size as he wasted no time shoving it all the way down my whole throat in one forceful motion. He wasn’t going to wait for me to warm up and I felt his balls slap against my chin from the force and depth of his first thrust. Setting the tone as to how this was going to go.

The two men on my side also wasted no time in redirecting my hands to both of their cocks, forcing me to jerk both of them off. The man behind me also didn’t wait for any consent and pulled up my skirt, pulling my biking bottoms to the side and stuck his raw cock in my tight little asshole as he pinned me down by the small of my back. I had snuck some lube up there right before the party. I had learned from way too many past experiences to come prepared to make men cum. He was so thick though, it felt like I might split in half. And I did my best to try and relax and ignore the pain, but that happening at the same time as the guy shoving his cock down my throat, it was hard to do. He didn’t care though and followed the exact same aggressive approach as the guy in front of me. Forcing it deep inside of me.

All I could do was moan and gag from the pain. I could hardly stand it! I was totally helpless, I was too weak, girly, and pathetic to stop these real men from using me like a slutty sex doll. As much as it hurt, the reality of the gang rape I was being forced to be subjected to was such a turn on. I was leaking so much in my tiny micro chastity, desperate to be used by these men and hoping I could cum as a result of being their cock slave. Maybe their cum can fill my tight little ass as it overfills my mouth and rains all over me. Maybe then I could finally cum.

I was struggling to breathe from the huge thick cock fucking my face, filling up half of my whole throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I desperately gasped for air when I could. He didn’t care, he wanted to skull fuck me and he was going to. It was hard to focus on the two huge cocks I was jerk off, but every time I slowed down they had no problem grabbing my small little wrist and forcing me to move at the pace they wanted. Struggling to breathe helped keep my mind off the pain from the intense ass fucking I was getting. They didn’t want to be gentle and were putting me through the roughest fucking I have ever had.

I still tried my hardest to please and worship their big strong long thick dicks. This is all about their pleaser and I wanted them to feel so good. I wanted to make these real superior men cum, cum all over me and fill me up. I’m there cum slut and I’m desperate for it! 

Eventually, I was able to relax enough to get into their rhythm. I felt the guy behind me pounding my g spot over and over again, working me closer to an orgasm. But the taste and feel of the big cock fucking my mouth was what was getting me closest. I don’t know why, but since I’ve been locked in chastity, most of the orgasms I’ve had are just from sucking dick. I’ve even had one just from practicing my blowjobs on my dildo. 

Then I felt it, the cock in my right hand twitch and throb, the man grunted “don’t you dare stop slut!” As I felt him cum, it squirting over my arm, and then on to my back. As he moaned a masculine moan, the man on my left also started to cum and moan. I focused all I could on keeping my rhythm the same for both of them as my small pretty feminine hands stroked the cum out of these cocks. Jerking them off, rubbing up and down, something my micro cock hasn’t experienced in years and never will again. 

The guy behind me then picked up his pace, his breathing got heavier and his massive penis thrusting as deep as it could go. His balls slapping me with such force it stung.  Then he throbbed so intensely and I felt his cum fill my ass. He kept thrusting over and over and I felt his cum starting to run down my legs. 

As he continued to pound my ass, the perfect dick that had been distorting my throat finally started to throb. He finally pulled it all the way out of my throat but just enough to keep his head in my mouth and shot more cum into my mouth than I had ever experienced. I tried to swallow it but I couldn't swallow fast enough. It shot out of my nose and the sides of my mouth. Dribbling down my chin. He slowly pumped the head of his cock back and forth in my mouth, messaging his tip with my tongue.  

The guy behind me finally pulled out and shot more cum on my ass. The large flood of cum he pumped into me spilled down my legs from my gaping hole. I was so close to cumming, so desperate, but I wasn’t able to. In my hopeless desperation I wiggled my ass, begging to be fucked more. 

Finally, as the last cock left my body, freeing my mouth, I gasped for air. I have no idea how long that happened for, or what anyone else was doing during that whole time. I looked up at the tall sexy man whose incredible dick I was sucking. “Thank you so much daddy!” I said without even thinking. He looked down at my cum covered face and said “Thats right you little sissy slut, your lucky to worship my dick. Beg daddy to suck his cock more.” I blushed and smiled “May I please suck your cock more daddy?” Fluttering my long lashes.

“You have to earn it bitch. You have to go on a date with me.” His large authoritative voice 

so manly compared to mine. “What if I don’t want to?” I playfully flirted back, but secretly upset that he would immediately deny me. 

“That wasn’t a question, slut! It was a command sissy girl.” He said in his strong voice as he grabbed my cum coved hand and wrapped it around his still hard cock and forced me to gently stroke it. 

“What do you say faggot?” He’s demanding questioning tone frightened and aroused me. I jerked him off and said, “Please daddy, I want to worship your cock. May I please go out with you?!” I tried to sound as girly and sexy as I possibly could. 

“Tell me how desperate you are for it. Tell me what a slut you are and how desperate you are.” He looked so strong, tall, and sexy and his commands combined with rubbing his cock, the taste and smell of his cum still in my mouth turned me on more and more. I felt an orgasm building up.

"Please daddy! Please, I’m a pathetic little sissy slut. I’m desperate to worship your cock and get your cum! Please let me please your dick! I'll be your perfect little cock slave! I want your dick!..” I was so desperate I was almost crying now. As I rubbed his dick, and verbally degraded myself, it finally happened, I came. It was so obvious because I stopped mid sentence, all I could do was moan and buck my ass like I was getting fucked while it happened. Still jerking off his cock as though each strok was making me cum more. 

As soon as I finished, he grabbed me by my hair, forcing my face to look at him through my blurred vision. He said, “Now you may go on a date with me to worship my cock sissy. Now lick that cum off of you!” He then let go of my hair and walked away. I was left there all alone, covered in cum, and in a cloud of uforia. My heart and mind raced. I haven’t been on a date since I was with Trent! Oh my god, do I like this guy?! I didn’t want to think about that now.

Finally, after I regained my strength, I got up and started to do as I was told. I started licking my whole body clean of cum. This is when I noticed that everyone else also fucked each other and were all just about finished as well. Kailey snapped a photo of me as I licked my fingers clean. 

She then walked over to me, she too was covered in cum. “Hey slut! I heard you had fun, so much fun that you’re going on a date with Mason!” I just blushed “He told me you begged to worship his dick so badly it finally made you came just from that!! How pathetic! You really are a cock slave sissy girl!” She laughed in her cute little laugh. “Here post this super cute pic of you licking his cum! You look so sexy but there’s defiantly something missing, right about here.” She then grabbed my bikini top. “We need to get this little girl some boobs!”

-Katierosedreams Og Cap

[thelastbraincellofthehive]

Ok so, I was gonna do my thoughts on the new episode Yesterday, but I'm running on little sleep and just .. procesing lol but I I'll share some stuff now~

I gotta start by personality thanking Weiss for keeping me just barely out of the total depression zone after this episode lol I don't know where I would be if she wasn't around being silly and annoyed at everything lol she really made things better for all of us

That said she also really needs to talk about her problems. They all need it. But damn, I almost forgot that yes, this child lost her whole kingdom and doesn't even know if her family made it ok to Vaccuo. God Remnant is a mess!

I also have to thank Little for being adorable and making my life better lol seriously that 'I always wanted to Be Long, but I'm still just small' lives rent free in my head and I love it lol one of my highlights of the episode.

Bees!!! There were some of the best bees we've ever had!!! And we've had soany great moments before! But seriously, you can taste the happiness on Blake's tone!!! You can see the love in her eyes! And you can also feel the excitement and happiness from both Barb and Arryn and all of crwby on that whole scene! They've worked so hard for this! And it's finally happening!

Also loving the bi and lesbian colored flowers on that scene <3 I love how much crwby does to point to Blake as bi specially, ni characters ar often ignored/missclassified for the relationship they get into and I hate that. Blake's our Bi-Icon and she always will be

I didn't knew I needed Blake doing puns in my life lol but God it was glorious! Also it reminded me of that time Arryn said that she had troible voicing chibiBlake because 'Blake is so...not funny!' that she didnt know how to deliver the lines lol glad to see Blake's character growth, she deserves nothing less, and Arryn is killing it with the voice acting!

Speaking of voice Acting: Lindsay!!! OMG I've always been a huge fan of them as Ruby's voice actor, but theyre really stepping up their game this season! Hearing Ruby's voice being so devoided of emotion Is so painful to hear and Lindsay just sells it! 💔

Ruby has lost so, so much, and she hasn't even had time to mourn or just process... I feel like the moment when she saw the sword and broke was the moment she finally really understood that Penny was gone again... Like, I feel a part of her was still denying it, she wouldn't adress it directly or even accept to talk about It... But I mean, she isn't really talking about anything...

So maybe I'm just proyecting I guess

So it's official that emotions have an effect on Ever After's weather. The guards said that someone was purposefully ruining the king's birthday by making it rain. Yikes, this Is gonna get hard to watch... *Hugs Ruby*

I saw someone talk about The scene where Alice creates a flood with her tears and... Yeah, I can see that happening once Ruby finally reaches her límit. I'm so not ready

I had been sad for most of this episode, but Ruby's eulogy? I have not recovered. I don't think I ever will 😭😭😭😭😭 Penny deserved so much better.

Also as much as I would love to have Penny back again and for good... I think this chapter really made me feel like it's over with her, I'm not ok with it, but 'ces't la vie, right?

The girls asking Ruby is she's really ok with giving up the sword 😭😭 they all knew how important and special Penny was for Ruby and viceversa.

Ruby is definitely keeping that Sword tho, it's not even a question not just because of the tráiler (that I didn't watch but I've seen mentioned lol). According to Blake Alyx knew the object she was looking for because her heart told her and don't get me started on how much this says about Penny and Ruby's relationship 😭 you don't feel a pull on your heart for just about anyone! So that means Penny's Sword is the equivalent of Alyx's knife.

Also, I feel like Ruby will take the sword with her when they leave. Maybe as a second weapon, maybe she'll combine Crescent Rose with it like Jaune did with Pyrrha's armor

And Blake with the gold bit on Gambol Shroud but... Don't get me started on that I was honestly so disapointed on that after seeing the many cool designs the fandom had made lol

Anyways, I think it's important that Ruby felt the pull to the sword but Yang didn't really feel it towards her arm that is literally a part of herself.

The prices are so fascinating too and I think they're important on this point, but I linda want to make a separate post to talk about that because I have a lot to say lol. But the point is, the sword is Alyx's knife, that's gonna be important.

To end on a happy note: I'm never getting over Weiss hitting herself with the rock lol amazing, spectacular, perfect in every way.

And so, I think it's my time to go! I can't believe we're just two episodes in and things are already this good! And terrible! :D next saturday cannot come soom enough!

Next chapter: Ruby chanels her inner Beth Harmon, Lets wish her luck!

#rwby #rwby9 #rwby v9 #the pain is real #but also the bees #bumbleby #let ruby rest!

[tobesolonely]

omg can you do a mix of 1 and 2 in nature hehe 🙈😋

<3

Harry loved Sundays.

Sunday was the one day of the week where he and Y/N both had a bit more free time than usual, so it went without saying that Sundays were reserved for them. These days were usually quite lazy, too. They never consisted of big, elaborate plans–just them, usually take-out because neither one of them could be bothered to cook, and lots and lots of sex. They did have a week’s worth of catching up to get to, after all.

This Sunday was a particularly nice one, because the weather had finally cooled down to a temperature that Harry could tolerate, and he just wanted to spend the day outside with Y/N. He looks down at her, head in his lap as she stares intently ahead at The Great British Baking Show. It was still quite early in the morning, no later than 9, and she looked so sleepy and cute–his sweet, tired girl.

The sound of his stomach rumbling snaps Harry out of his Y/N-induced haze. She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why didn't you tell me you were so hungry? Would've gotten up and made us something ages ago if you just asked, H.”

Harry knows he's not really being chastised right now. Y/N simply just cares so much about his well-being so much that his stomach grumbling is as good a reason as any to fuss over him.

“Why don't we pack breakfast up and take it outside today? Know this nice lil spot we can have a picnic at, don't think very many people know about it either,” Harry absentmindedly rubs his hands along Y/N’s shoulder blades as he speaks. “I can make something for us while you go get dressed?” 

So, Y/N pops upstairs to quickly change out of her pajamas while Harry heads to the kitchen to pack a quick breakfast for them. He decides they'll have coffee, croissants, granola, yogurt, and a fruit salad (all Y/N’s favorite breakfast foods) and is nearly done packing it up when she re-emerges. Harry doesn't miss the way her eyes light up when she sees what he's stuffing in his insulated bag for them to enjoy.

He's opening the front door and ushering Y/N to his car five minutes later, stopping to open her door before tucking their food away into the back and getting into the driver's seat. It doesn't take any more than 15 minutes before Harry's turning and parking onto some road that Y/N’s sure didn't exist yesterday. She decides not to even question how her boyfriend knows it exists, but leave it to Harry to find the beauty of hanging out in a random, secluded field.

“Told you it'd be empty.” 

“I can see why.” 

“It's a nice field, love. I do some of my best songwriting and thinking here,” Harry gets out of the car and retrieves the food from the backseat before opening Y/N's door. “Found this place when I was a kid and have been coming ever since. Actually, I’ve never bought anyone else here before now that I'm thinkin’ about it…”

Now it's Y/N’s turn to get mushy. “I guess I must be pretty special then, yeah?” 

Harry laughs. “You have no idea, darling.” 

They set up their picnic against a big shade tree; Y/N’s grateful Harry always has a blanket in the trunk of his car, because it completely slipped her mind to bring one and grass makes her itchy. 

Harry fills Y/N in on his week and Y/N fills him in on hers. Nothing out of the ordinary for either of them–work, exercise, social obligations, things of that nature. Their conversation is actually entirely innocent until Y/N casually mentions one thing. 

“Oh, yeah! I just remembered,” she eats a big spoonful of yogurt and swallows before speaking. “I got a new lingerie set that I wanna wear for you later–I wanted to just put it on and surprise you with it, but I'm too excited and wanna tell you now.  I think you'll really like it.” Y/N always rambles a little when she's a bit nervous, which Harry finds endearing.

Harry's cock twitches in interest at this. “Oh yeah? What color is it?” 

“Your favorite, of course.” 

“My favorite, yeah? You're sweet, love.” Harry starts inching toward her until her back softly hits the tree they're under, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ after she does. 

“Your favorite.” 

Harry's hand reaches up to loosely wrap around Y/N’s neck while he sucks hickies under her jaw and on her shoulder. 

“I know we're missing the lingerie, but why don't you give me a little preview of what I'm gonna get for my ‘surprise’ later, love?”

location based smut prompts

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #harry styles fic #harry smut

[heartidylla]

lover — i forgot that you existed

javier peña x f!reader

summary : after getting hated on by rumors spreading around the office, javier confronts you for the first time.

caution : language

speaking color coding

“” — javier

“” — you

“” — other

you took a deep breath before you stepped into the office for the first time in which seemed to be days, even though you were just sitting at your eloquent desk yesterday. a rumor — which stated at you had been involved with another coworker spread around like wildfire.

as the head of an entire squad, this news was impactful in questioning if you're suitable for such a privileged position.

the shade everyone had been throwing at you had gotten so extreme that they'd go out of their way to put you down, taking away all of the built up sunshine you were storing within you to barely make it past each day.

the worst part is that you couldn't get away from such immense hatred you had been attracting. this alone caused an increasingly amount of resentment for yourself, even a falsely accused rumor had impacted your mental state to such extreme lows.

you don't know the reason behind not standing up for yourself to your coworkers, perhaps it was due to the fact the entire situation had completely gone downhill to an overly critical state. you felt tongue-tied, even when you were going to argue on your behalf against such horrible people.

what irked you more was the fact javier peña, a man who has countless intimate relationships with coworkers, never got criticized for such 'outrageous behavior', but if it was you — or more so a woman, everything was blown out of proportion. that alone lived rent free within the realm of your mind.

however, everything changed that day. as you stepped into the office, a new confidence had taken over your movements. after months of consistent torment, you had finally been pushed over your limits which contained your nasty comments and inner thoughts.

walking through the crowed halls it was magical how they seemed entirely empty to you. it was so much easier to ignore everyone that surround you than to put up and try and defend yourself.

you have always desired to people on people's good sides, happy to help everyone who needed it. you made it your goal to treat others how you'd wanna be treated, and you stuck to that, apart from the darkness that came with your job.  

your worst fear, since youth, has always been people hating on you or talking behind your back. it always cause a tightness in your chest whenever you thought someone didn't like you, and you'd always seek their approval in everything. the idea that someone who don't add anything to your life, nor knew who you truly were, despising you made you physically nauseous to think about.

however, in this instance, you didn't feel like you were passing away. you felt at ease as you finally accepted that not everyone is going to like you, and people are going to talk their shit and you're going to have no control over how people view you. honestly, being alone made everything so much more peaceful and quiet. even if they didn't like you, they still had to respect how great of an agent and leader you were and follow your orders without hesitation.

you sat down at your desk with the biggest grin on your face that you had in weeks as you instantly put on your noise cancellation headphones and dived into the depths of files you had racked up over the course of your mental health spiral.

you could feel the eyes on you, but you couldn't give less of a fuck about it. you didn't hate your coworkers, nor did you love them as you once had: it was just simply indifference.

as you watched your reputation which you had strongly built from the ground up tumble in front of you, you got out some popcorn and watched it burn.

it almost seemed as if all your work friends were laughing at you as you had tripped and collided with the ground in the schoolyard during high school. 

worst part is, you were always there for each and everyone one of them. when they needed help, you'd stick around for extra hours and assist them with what they needed. hell, you'd fight the entire town if one of them were getting picked on. you'd be supporting them in their front row, even when nobody else would. 

lost in your work, you were pulled out of it by a tap on your shoulder. you looked up with an empty expression as you met the mist of darkness that consisted in javier peña's eyes. the light which reflected off of them shined like stars in the deepest hinted skies. his lips curved into a smile as his pointed finger signaled to his ear, motioning for you to take off your headphones. which you did...at an awkward pace, unsure as to why he was trying to talk to you now.

"yes, mr. peña?" your voice came off lightly and questioning as to what he was doing so far from home. his department and yours are the same job, but a considerable amount of distance for someone to make such a casual trip here.

"oh, i wanted to check in on how you were doing." he stated, putting his muscular forearms on his desk as his mended muscles began to reveal themselves. your eyes drift onto them for a slight second, before turning your gaze back onto him, raising an eyebrow at question since you didn't fully grasp the meaning behind it.  "you're not bothered by the talking anymore?" he clarified.

"oh!" you nodded before leaning back into your chair, "no, they sent me a clear message, and taught me some hard lessons." your words made javier frown. he realized the double standard more than you knew, and was disgusted as to why they were critiquing you so severely for something that's clearly a lie. "honestly, by this point i forget what they were..." javier looked back towards your amused expression, "it's all just a blur." beginning to slightly chuckle at your own stupidity of a joke, and was delighted as javier joined in as well.

"well, i'm glad that you finally forgot that they existed." he says as the laughing fit had eventually died down. you send him a simple smile, not expecting him to carefully, slide his hand into yours and lift it up to his mouth. he held you with such genuine affection that it bewildered you since you always saw him as a playboy who was unable to hold such compassion for someone within his eyes. "hopefully you hadn't forgotten about me?" he places a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, sending goosebumps to rise on your arm due to the electric warmth that flowed throughout your body immediately after the contact.

"i think you'd make that impossible to do." you lightly chuckled, retracting your hand from his grasp; unable to withstand anymore flirtatious behavior coming from javier in general. you'd only just had a sip of it, and it was already too much for your own heart to handle. he does have such immense power over people's feelings, and you figured he'd surely use it as a way to break you down.

he sent his signature smug smirk at you as your sights drifted back onto your work, not paying him another thought. he'd always liked that about you, how you knew what he was up to and when to space him out once he had gotten too close to you. "maybe so, cariño." he watched as your body tensed at such an intimate nickname, but you didn't say anything furthermore to him. "hopefully i'll see you around, maybe i'll start making more trips here." he noted as he looked around your bigger office, noticing how much care you put into the place you work. you had a space all to yourself due to your position, and decorated it to seem more homely.

"do whatever you want mr. peña, but i have a lot of work i have to do — and i'm sure you do too." you offered him once last look at your face, before it was forever glued to the shrinking pile of papers.

"yes ma'am, then i'll definitely be seeing you around more." he reassured you before walking out of your office to leave you to it. sadly, he didn't get to witness the helpless and bashful smile that was plastered on your face the moment you heard the door shut.

"idiotic peña." you softly whisper to yourself, putting your blood-rushed cheeks into the coldness your palms had to offer, praying that they'd chill down your face.

next javier peña song chapter

#javier pena #javier peña #javier x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #i forgot that you existed #taylor swift #crossover #narcos #narcos x reader #lovers #javi pena #fanfic #ao3 writer #wattpad #lover album

[someonexsomeone]

Falling Behind

Title: Falling Behind

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x np!Reader

Summary: Taeyong just wanted a little time alone, was that too much to ask?

Authors Note: Day 8!! We're getting so close to the end now! I finally got to see Barbie yesterday, after a series of 'only this type of thing could happen to a ff author' level hijinks, and wow. Did i love it? yes. Do i have extremely conflicted emotions on it? double yes. Did i make me sob? absolutely yes. So, please take his awful meet cute as I scream into my pillow

If there was one thing about Superman that Taeyong understood, it was the appreciation of a simple disguise. Yes, only popping on a pair of glasses and becoming an entirely new person was a little farfetched, even he could admit that, but taking it just a little step further and adding a mask or hat made him completely disappear into the crowd. He was grateful, eternally so, that he was able to pursue his dream of music, exploring parts of himself he never thought he could, yet…there was a part of him, a really small part of him, that desperately wishes for the peace that came with his life before his music career. He was handsome, his mom made sure he knew that, but he didn’t think he would stop cars on the street or get free food with a flash of a smile like some people he knew. He could exist in the world and not have to think for a second that he would cause a mob just by walking by a group of people. Hence, his other great appreciation in life; his mask.

After a minor incident here and there with some unruly fans, Taeyong knew the drill by now if he wanted some alone time. Hair had to be tucked away, as the colorful strands would stand out too much, and glasses had to be on if he was going to take his mask off to eat or drink briefly. He could stay at a cafe for a little bit, but not too long, lest people started to notice him. Walks in the park were strictly forbidden unless he had a guard with him, and public transportation was an extreme no-no. Always notify staff where he was going, never stay out too late if he had a schedule the next day, and if he came back with any scapes or bruises in places that were too suspicious, he could kiss his privileges goodbye for the amount of time deemed appropriate by the injury. And absolutely no talking to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary,

Stifling? A little bit. He was just happy to be let free every once in a while, unlike some of his other members.

Today had him in the unmarked black bucket hat, brim just big enough to cover the tops of his eyebrows that had been dyed blue from his most recent stage, his favorite spring tank top, baggy cargo pants, and his favorite chunky tennis shoes. With a worn-out satchel thrown over his shoulder, he thought the outfit would fit the fresh spring air that pushed through the city. And, with his favorite cafe being in a relatively remodeled part of town, his outfit didn’t stand out much as soon as he joined in the groups of young adults all enjoying a weekend away from school or their jobs. This cafe in particular had a rotating staff of seasonal workers as well as a bustling crowd of young entrepreneurs, either meeting at the cafe for meetings or to take advantage of the free high-speed internet. Taeyong found he could often stay there for longer than most, and it made him absolutely giddy. His steps had a little more spring in them as he jogged up the stairs.

The modeling, the training, the shoots, the recording sessions. They never seemed to stop, which meant he couldn’t either. So, on a rare day he was able to have alone, a random Tuesday that was supposed to be filled with the newest stage fittings but seemingly got canceled out of nowhere with no other thing to fill it, he jumped at the chance to get out of the dorms. Yes, he loved his members, he loved spending time with their stupid asses and watching them get stupider by the minute, but there was only so much of them he could handle. Love him to death, but if Johnny asked him to go out one more time, his form of relaxation, Taeyong was going to jump him. He nearly kissed his manager when he agreed to let Taeyong venture out alone, his mind already on his favorite place.

As usual, the cafe was near rowdy with people. The person who took his order didn’t spare him a second glance as they took his order, and neither did any of the handful of people he passed on the way to a table in the corner. It was piled with dirty dishes, but he didn’t mind pushing them towards the edge in order to actually have a place to sit away from the door. Plus, as soon as the waitress brought his drink and pastry over, the table was quickly cleared, leaving space for his worn notebook and laptop. His headphones, already pushed over his ears, were ready to repeat the same melody that was in desperate need of lyrics. Though, he only got as far as plugging them in, before a notification had him opening his email. There, in bold letters at the top, was a digital invitation.

You, Lee Taeyong, are proudly invited to the wedding of… was all the message was able to say in the small preview box. In an instant, all the happiness and motivation of the day drained from his shoulders.

He should have expected it really. He was, after all, there when the proposal happened. A lovely high school reunion of sorts, packed with people he knew and people he didn't, all wanting to see what their classmates had been up to in the years between their graduation and the present. Taeyong originally wasn’t going to go, but he was a sucker for the puppy dog eyes his friends gave him when they asked. It was a little awkward at first, people being too afraid to approach him first, but the night mellowed easily with the copious amounts of alcohol being served. The proposal was done by a couple he knew met in high school, though he wasn’t particularly close to either of them.

“A big wedding,” he mused to himself, the only logical explanation he had for why he of all people was being invited. With a huff, he pushed the laptop closed, not bothering to view the message in its entirety right now, before slumping in his hair, his eyes fixed on the view out the window. Being on the second floor on a relatively busy street, there was more than enough to keep him entertained as he gathered his thought. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for the couple, he reasoned with himself. It was, well, that the couple wasn’t him. This wasn’t the first time romance had his thoughts racing to the point of unproductivity, he had to think about it often enough with what SM wanted him to be producing. This was, of course, added on top of the fact that he was a romantic at heart, and pretty much everything around him reminded him of romance in some way or another. A lone tea cup on a table? A tragic love story of a recently widowed elderly woman. A jacket left on the bench at the park? Of course, it had to be left behind by a couple who were too excited to splash together in the nearby river to realize they forgot it. Two people sitting remotely close to one another in the library? A private meet-up between the children of rival companies. Love stories were endless to create. It was both a blessing, as it allowed more than enough material to write pages worth of music, and a curse, since it was literally all he could think about all the time

Before, this was a fun thing for him to dream up. Life as an average citizen meant that romance was filled with endless possibilities of meet-cutes, raunchy escapades, and scandalous affairs. Now? There was too much to risk to allow himself to fall for any pretty person that crossed his path, no matter how much he yearned for the simplicity and comfort of love. Heck, he hadn’t ever really been in a relationship, a true one, where you were able to spend all night basking in the presence of the person you loved and talk about anything your heart desired without it ever feeling like there was an end. Only through his music was he able to speak freely on his melancholy thoughts, as any hint of romance between him and someone else had the power of the company raining down on his head. Even his bandmates, who he wanted to trust with his entire being, were too risky to tell.

So, more often than not, his music was his only outlet, and his thought was his only real safe space to think. He was sure, absolutely positive, that being able to talk things out would clear a lot of his doubts. For now, he could only wish for a moment he could be so vulnerable.

Things were in a constant loop of doubt. Ever since he loved into the city, moved away from his home, and had to fend for himself, it feels like he’s been stuck in an endless loop of self-doubt and critique. It seems like life for others has been moving in a natural progression, the number of couples in his life growing exponentially. Couples, he could handle…to an extent. Some lasted, some didn’t, but there was some part of himself, however bad, that could talk his way out of feeling sorry for himself when he saw them. Love was obvious in his eyes, and those same eyes saw the number of couples that would date just to have someone. Arm candy, social status, a way to starve off loneliness. He started to get good at seeing the subtle differences, especially when he was finally able to go out on his own and people-watch to his heart's content. Marriage, on the other hand, was something too ingrained in his brain as synonymous with love that now, as those very couples he tried to deny were tying the knot, made him feel so very little. It felt, for lack of a better phrase, that he was beginning to fall behind in whatever stupid race life was. It made him feel…hollow.

He sighed, willing himself to pick up his nearest pen and put it against the paper in his notebook, just to do something to get those thoughts to stop. Sometimes, with a little luck, his melancholy thoughts could translate themselves into lyrics that rid them from his head. Lines and dots, lines and dots, but no real words. After nothing appeared on the page, he signed heavily, tossing the pen against the pages one more to throw his head back to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

“Are you alright?” His head whipped up, hand unconsciously lifting to make sure his mask was still in place, as he made eye contact with the person standing beside the other chair at his table. His face flushed when he met your eyes, his mouth drying at the way they sparkled with genuine concern for him. You were wearing an apron with the cafe’s logo, and a pot of steaming coffee in your hand, silently gesturing to his near-empty cup. He nodded once, a response to your vocal question, but you didn’t move from your spot beyond filling his cup. He thanked his mask for being in place as he winced, his perfectly sugary mocha getting filled with pure black coffee. When he didn’t respond, you seemed to panic. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you seemed happy when you arrived, and you, uh, you’ve been staring out the window for a while now.” Taeyong’s eyes widened. “Oh! I don’t mean that I’ve been staring at you! I just noticed- I mean, you’re awfully handsome-- no wait I mean…”

Taeyong couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped him at your flustered face. You only reddened further at his laugh.

“No, I’m sorry this was dumb. You’re obviously working. I’ll just…yeah,” with a soft sigh, you headed back behind the counter without another word. Taeyong watched your slumped shoulder, a smile stretched on his face as you disappeared behind the swinging door. It grew even more as he watched you smack yourself on the head, gesturing wildly as your mouth moved with obvious embarrassed passion. He wondered, full of glee, if you knew he could obviously see you through the window on the door.

As much as he hated to admit it, the disturbance was exactly what he needed to forgo his sadness. His hands made quick work of a new song, a hopeful melody all about seeing someone beautiful in public only to embarrass yourself when you try to approach them, keywords and snippets of lyrics filling the page in a way only legible to him. He didn’t stop, didn’t allow himself to, until his hand started cramping so bad he had to switch over to his laptop for some reprieve. Too focused, he kept making the mistake of sipping on his ruined coffee, gagging every time his tongue met bitter coffee. His empty plate was quickly filled with sugar packets, but that did little to change the flavor. He was midway through another horrible sip when you approached again.

Bashful, looking down at your feet, you held out a new cup and saucer, the shape

distinctly different from the one he was holding. He slowly lowered his cup, pushing his mask over his face, though he doubt you would have noticed. If you weren’t looking down, the blush-covered cheeks were more than enough proof that you would’ve found a different way to avoid eye contact.

“I-I’m sorry about your coffee…” you said softly, holding out the cup again. Taeyong took it, if only to stop the clinking of cup against plate as your hand quivered, his mouth open to respond, when you continued, “I’m still-I’m still learning what drinks are which and I thought your cup was the one for plain coffee but I-...I should have asked before filling it up and ruining your drink. Please forgive me!” You bowed deeply as you finished. He was the one blushing now, standing quickly, one hand still holding the new coffee while the other hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure if he should touch you to tell you that bowing wasn’t necessary at all or break one of the rules and speak. 

Before he could decide, you rose just as quickly as you bowed, knocking your shoulder against the hovering cup. As quick as his dance reflexes allowed, Taeyong righted his hand, saving the cup from smashing against the floor, but not stopping the pipping hot coffee from spilling over his thumb and onto the open pages of his notebook below. You cried out as Taeyong did, placing the cup down as quickly as he could so he could stick his burning thumb into his mouth.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” Your apron, barely organized before, exploded in haste on napkins, both them and the other random things you had in the big pocket falling to the floor. A small notepad, more than a couple of pens, straws, and miscellaneous wrappers scattered at his feet as you hastily shoved the thin paper napkins onto his notebook with one hand, trying to salvage as much of the ink and paper as you could, while the other pulled his hand away from his mouth to hastily blow on it. Your eyes were welling with tears now, glittering at the brim of your eyelids, as you tried to do everything yourself. Behind you, he could see your commotion caused more than a few eyes to watch the show, some snickering while others winced sympathetically. Behind the counter, he could see your coworkers trying to keep the line moving while keeping an eye on you. Whether it was to determine if they were needed or because they were worried you were going to do something else horribly embarrassing, he couldn’t tell. When no one approached, and you were getting near frantic with your movements, Taeyong gently reached out a hand, laying it on top of yours where it held his wrist in a vice grip. Slowly, your lips stopped blowing and your hand stopped wiping, tears spilling over. Finally, you met his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice low. “Thank you for your help.”

You simply searched his eyes for a moment, trying to see how truthful he was in his reassurance, before you gently let your hand slip out from under his. The chatter of the restaurant started up once more, placated by his calm demeanor.

“I’m…I’m…” You couldn’t find the words. Taking a step back, you bowed deeply again. “I’m terribly sorry!” Teayong pulled you up quickly, too nervous at your habit to bow to second guess touching you again.

“It’s alright, really. I’m not seriously hurt, and you got whatever landed on my notebook. It’s too old for me to care now about a little spilled coffee on it.” Your face was riddled with worry, especially as he shook out his hand, trying to cool the red mark on his thumb.

“Oh!” Quickly, you reached into your other apron pocket, pulling out a small tube of burn cream and a bandaid. You hesitated for a second, hand awkwardly held between handing the items to the handsome stranger or helping it apply it. Taeyong hesitated a moment too, before holding out his hand for your to help. Your tears had slowed now, but your tear-stained face coupled with the grateful smile made his heart leap into his throat. “I-You get burned quite a bit when you’re learning to make drinks,” you explained, expertly applying a dab of cream on the worst spot and wrapping it securely in the bandaid. Taeyong flexed his finger, impressed with the range of motion he still had, as you gestured to the countless small burn marks that littered your arms and hands. “It’s probably the thing I’ve gotten best at since starting here, healing a burn.”

“Thank you,” he replied softly. You beamed at him, before worriedly looking down at the table again.

“I’ll have someone bring you a new coffee, since I ruined the last one…two.” You winced, thinking for a moment before leaning down, writing something quickly into his notebook with his discarded pen. When you righted, he noticed it was a number, a small arrow pointing towards the drying stain. “My KakaoTalk, so I can pay for a new notebook.” Before Taeyong could protest, you held up your hand, stopping him. You were back to looking at your feet, avoiding eye contact completely. “Please let me do this. It’s the least I could do.” When he didn’t respond, you nodded once, picking up both cups on the table to get him a new one. 

In your desperate desire to escape, you didn’t notice Taeyong’s bright red face, eyes blown out in absolute wonder. No, you were firmly hunched over the espresso machine, getting chewed out by your manager, to notice him let out a giggle, flopping back into his seat and running his burned thumb softly over your number scribbled into his notebook.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

#someonexsomeone #laufeyfest #kpop imagine #nct imagine #nct one shot #kpop one shot #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 one shot #taeyong imagine #lee taeyong imagine #taeyong x reader #lee taeyong one shot #taeyong one shot

[littlegodzilla]

Here I come again!!

New chapter from Your Name.

I hope you like it!!

Enjoy!!

***

Your Name.

Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Mini series Part 2.

Warnings: Merle again. Bad Language. Firsts warnings.

Words: 2800.

Summary: Your relationship with the Dixon brothers don't get better, Donna catches a cold. Weird things start to happen.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @ruinedbythehobbit @thefemininemystiquee @xxtinasxxblog @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ravenwings73

≈≈≈≈

(I know he isn't daryl but I needed to use it)

Part 2.

**

The next day you wake up to the sound of the alarm clock. You need a moment to remember what is happening and who you are. You sigh and slowly sit up in bed. You've never been a morning person. When your neurons finally connect again, you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to take a shower.

You don't know how you do it, but you always end up with just enough time to get to work. You get dressed quickly, grab your bag and something rattles inside and feels heavy. You frown opening the bag then discover the bottle of whiskey inside and snort remembering the note.

**

The doorbell rings as you arrive at the supermarket, Donna and Fely peek in to see you, you smile as a greeting approaching the counter, you check in and open the till to leave the money you found yesterday.

"And that?" Donna is interested when she sees you and you shrug.

"Someone left it outside the supermarket yesterday." You say and pull the note out of your purse, Donna reads it several times and laughs quietly.

"I'm sure it was Daryl..."

"Someone should give him spelling lessons." You snort and Donna nudges you a little.

You lift your head like a spring and discover that Daryl is on the other side of the counter, he's alone, carrying some food and a first aid kit in his hands. Your cheeks turn a furious reddish color as you see yourself uncovered and you feel a little embarrassed when he frowns. You throat clears and open your mouth to apologize, but he leaves the money there and walks away, opening the door violently.

"Fuck..." You whisper lowering your head.

"Daryl's not as bad as his brother, you'll figure it out."

You shake your head, feeling bad, but at the same time still feeling angry about the previous day, so you quickly shrug it off and go back to your work. Fely tells Donna and you how her date with her partner went, she is excited and every day you can see her enjoying his company more and more, you both listen attentively as Donna gives her some tips for the next encounters.

"What about you?" the stares of your companions fall on you like two slabs.

"What about me?"

"You don't have anyone... or maybe you came to Senoia looking for..."

"That, no, no, not at all." A mocking laugh escapes you despite the stares from your companions. "I don't have a name..."

"Not yet?" Fely looks at you in surprise, she's a few years younger than you and you understand her confusion.

"It happens sometimes." Donna says. "It's not very common, but there are people who never get to have a name. They're very rare cases."

"Wow...how sad." She whispers looking sideways at you.

"I don't need someone to tell me who I can be with. I guess that's the grace of human free will, to be able to choose without heeding some stupid name that suddenly appears on your skin making your life turn around..." You mutter perhaps with a too much frown.

"You did have someone..." Fely understands. "But found a partner and you..."

"I'm going to clean the toilets." You grunt and walk away, ending the conversation.

It was never the main reason you left home, at least you had convinced yourself of that. Of course it hurt you to see them all the time together, as if yours had never meant anything, but that town was too much for you, it overwhelmed you to walk through its streets, to see the same people every day. You needed to start from scratch.

That was the main reason.

The morning passes slower than you expected, people come and go, but nobody buys anything really important. You hear Donna coughing in the distance, you realize it's not the first time in the morning, so you walk over to her.

"Hey, are you okay?" You look at her worriedly.

"Yeah, it's nothing. The girls have caught a cold and I'm sure I've caught it too."

"I understand." You smile with relief. "Childhood colds can knock down even the healthiest adult." You joke. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? Fely and I can take care of the store."

"No, no, I'm fine, I just need to take a pill."

"As you wish, but if you need to lie down, get in the office."

"Since when do you give orders?" she asks jokingly and you both laugh. "Thanks, but I'll get over it soon."

You're still worried, but you relax, Donna is a mother, she knows what she's saying when she assures you she's fine, so you try not to make a big deal out of it. Leaving her with her own things to do, you go to the warehouse to bring in new product and restock the shelves.

**

"Tellin' ya, I saw few helicopters have passed." Merle says getting Daryl to look at him pissed.

"Give it a rest dude, I'm sick to death of yer conspiratorial paranoia." He growls shouldering a row of squirrels.

"Paranoia? Haven't ya heard? They've gone over our heads."

"I heard it, sure some asshole crashed." He says again and aims his crossbow once more, hitting a partridge.

"And what's wrong with ya? Yer grumpier than usual today" Merle looks at his brother curiously and Daryl looks away, uncomfortable. "Is it that some girl has rejected ya, Darylina?"

"Leave me alone." He snaps and walks away, feeling Merle's smile burn the back of his neck.

"I feel sorry for ya, li'brother, but we both know, ya wouldn't know how to communicate with a woman..." He starts to tease him, but Daryl moves far enough away that he can ignore him. "Let's go back to town, I wanna go to the market."

"What for?"

"I wanna see that new girl."

"Why don't ya leave her alone? She ignores ya."

"Let me give ya a tip on women, Daryl." Merle circles his brother's shoulders and Daryl feels the need to push him away. "The worse ya treat them, the wetter their pussies get." He whispers in her ear. "Then they'll come on their knees begging ya to fuck them hard and if ya do it right she'll even let ya fuck her in the ass."

"Fuck, shut up!" she pulls away from him nudging him. "If y'think yer gonna fuck her, stop dreaming. Yer just a fucking redneck to that chick."

"And y'think I care? To stick my dick in hot ain't need to know what she's thinking, just that she spreads her legs."

Daryl rolls his eyes, tired of the bullshit he's saying. On the other hand he feels pissed off, he can't get what you said about him that morning out of his head and he's been scowling all day. The last thing he wants is to go back there and see your face.

**

Several people have been admitted to the hospital with high fevers.

You hear it on the radio as you finish your tasks that afternoon. You stop with a frown, Donna has come in that morning with a bit of a cough and she tells you it's because her girls have colds. Maybe they've caught the same thing and if they're not careful it could be dangerous. You put the mop aside and walk over to the office where you all take your lunch break and Donna finishes sorting out the paperwork for the store.

"Hey Donna, I just heard on the radio that a lot of people are coming down with a cold." You tell her catching her attention instantly. "Maybe you should take the girls to I'd tell them about some tests, maybe it's nothing, but..."

"I heard it on the radio now too. I've called my wife to get them to go over there..."

"If you want to go with them, I'll take care of closing." You promise her and she seems to hesitate for a moment.

"You don't mind if I leave you alone again?"

"Don't worry, Fely is in the warehouse with the new stuff, if I need help, I'll call her." You play it down watching as the woman starts to gather her things after your words.

"What if Merle Dixon comes back?"

"I'll politely tell him to get the hell out and if he doesn't want to listen to me, I'll tell him the hard way."

"Don't mess with the Dixon family, it's not worth it." She tells you and slings her purse securely over her shoulder. "Thank you very much."

"Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow and anything, you call us."

Donna nods and walks out of there calling her wife to let her know she's going to the hospital too.

You talk to Fely about your manager's departure and between the two of you you take over the supermarket. There are not many people, the atmosphere is quiet, possibly because these days people take vacations and leave town to enjoy a little, but you can not get out of your head the fact that these people in the hospital, entering for what seems a simple cold and having to stay in the hospital because it is something more serious.

"Have ya seen them? They are there again."

That voice makes you tense up behind the counter, slowly you lift your head to see the two Dixon brothers peering out the door of the store, Merle is pointing at the sky and Daryl looks upset about something, over his shoulder he carries a crossbow and a string with dead squirrels on it.

Wait, what?

When they go back inside you discover that the older of the two is carrying a rifle on his shoulder as well, the barrel pointing skyward, on his belt he's carrying several partridges hanging upside down and you have to hold back the nausea. You have never endured seeing any dead animal and much less if it is for fun.

"Hey, hey, stop." You stop them and they turn their gaze to you. "Are you guys out of your minds? You can't come in here with guns."

"Oh, sorry, gorgeous, we just came from hunting." Merle says, he says it like it's pride and you frown. You remember Fely telling you that they lived in a cabin in the middle of the woods, maybe that was their dinner.

You could understand the partridges, but... Squirrels, really?

"I don't care. Guns are forbidden. If you're not going to leave them in the car put the safety on and face down." You point at them and point to Merle's rifle. Daryl rolls his eyes and slaps his brother.

"What's wrong with ya, man?" he growls and looks sideways at you. "Sorry..."

"Never mind..."

"Dude don't push it, I'm up front, stop firlting with my girl." Merle's voice brings a knot to your stomach. Daryl looks at him confused and you can't stifle a laugh.

"Excuse me?"

Merle doesn't say anything, just moves closer to you before pulling down the collar of the t-shirt he's wearing. Daryl's eyes widen as he discovers the name "Susie" above his collarbone. You're his fated girl, now he understands why he has this obsession with coming to see you every day. Daryl bites his lip several times before he hears you laugh again.

"You're an idiot, Merle Dixon." You tell him and point to your badge again where it says the name 'Susy' on it. "That's not my name, it's not even the same, and even if it was, I'd sooner slit my wrists than let you touch me." You tell him very clearly.

Maybe you're being too harsh, it's possible you're spitting all your venom on him, but Merle Dixon gives you the creeps and the thought of imagining sharing your life with him gives you goosebumps. Daryl averts his gaze to the floor, your words have gotten to him too, you may only be talking about Merle, but he's a Dixon too so if no one wants to be with his brother, why would they want to be with him?

"Ain't care honey, if y'ain't her it means I can have fun with ya at my will, without having to explain myself."

"Why don't you guys grab your beers and your squirrels and get the hell out of here? The day is getting bad enough as it is, I don't need to have to put up with seeing your face."

None of you manage to stop him in time, Merle slaps your cheek viciously. Daryl acts then by pulling him away from you, pushing him out of the store. Fely from the counter insults him and threatens to call the police. You are in shock. You know that you've been provoking him, Donna has already warned you not to provoke Merle, but he manages to get on your nerves too quickly. Of course you didn't expect the man to hit you.

"Get off me, I'm gonna teach that bitch to speak to me with respect!" Merle shouts struggling against his brother's grip.

"And how do ya plan on doin' that, like our old man used to do with mom?" He yells back and shoves him one more time.

"That bitch deserves a couple of spankings so she'll learn!"

Daryl doesn't respond, but rage and anger shake his body, he snatches the gun away from his brother and pushes him back towards the car, forcing him into it. The scuffle between the two brothers is observed by several people walking down the street at that hour, when Daryl manages to calm his brother down, he walks back into the store. As he heads towards you, you instinctively take several steps back, all your bravery and bravado are gone, your cheek stings, you feel the humiliation mix with the pain, but you hold back as best you can the urge to cry. Daryl stops as he sees you recoil. He clenches his fists in anger, you may not be his favorite person, but he didn't want Merle to hurt you either. He quickly removes the squirrels from his shoulder and sets them on the ground. He looks at you, looks at them, looks at you again and bites his thumbnail. He grunts something intelligible and runs out of there, driving away, arguing with Merle again.

The tension in the air hovers for a few more seconds before Fely arrives at your side, cell phone in hand and on the other side you hear the emergency service contacting the police. The air you were holding in your lungs rushes out and you bring your hand to your cheek, your skin burns and you feel again that it hurts. Fely pulls your hand away from the spot seeing it start to swell.

"Damn Dixon, I'm going to get a bag of peas, go back to the counter and sit there." Felicity asks you. It doesn't take long for the people that were in the supermarket to disappear.

You obey her directions and sit down on the other side of the counter, your eyes then focus on the rope full of squirrels on the floor. Is this Daryl's way of apologizing to you? An offering as an apology for his brother's behavior? Of course you don't plan to touch them, much less eat them. You know you've played on Merle's patience, but you're in over your head. You hiss in pain as you feel the bag of peas on your bruised cheek.

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to apologize, you did the right thing. It's Merle who should apologize."

"Daryl has already done it for him." You say pointing at the squirrels and Fely gasps.

"For God's sake, I'm going to throw that away, I'll be right back."

You don't move, you press the cold pack a little harder against your cheek and hope the swelling goes down soon. A couple of tears escape without you being able to hold them back.

People infected with this new cold, apart from the fever, start to exhibit aggressive behavior. If you start to feel frantic and feverish, please see your doctor as soon as possible.

"That cold is starting to get serious." Fely says as you are finishing your shift. It's finally evening and the workday is over.

"Yes, I hope Donna and her daughters are okay." Recovered from your initial shock, now only bruised cheek and wounded pride, you count him money from the till as Fely picks up everything.

"Sure they do, that woman is made of iron." She jokes grabbing the garbage bags. "I'm going to throw these away, I'll be right back and lock the doors."

"Okay, I'll finish up here and go lock up the warehouse."

In the end the day has not ended badly, quite a lot of money has come in, you have taken away products that were about to expire and people have not been particularly impertinent. Apart from the accident with the Dixon brothers, the day has been very good. You smile with satisfaction as you write down the day and the money collected that day for Donna to manage the next day. You close the box, turn off the computer and hear screaming in the alley. Your heart flutters in fear, you run over there, Fely was throwing out the garbage and for a second you fear that something serious might have happened to her. Just as you are about to open the door, she comes in holding her arm. You hear some strange gasps on the other side and quickly lock the door. Maybe some nutcase looking for food or drug money has attacked your companion.

"Hey, are you okay?" You look at her worriedly.

"H-he bit me..." She says looking at you scared and shows you her arm.

Not only does it have her teeth marks on it, but it has torn her skin.

What the fuck is going on?

To be continued...

≈≈≈

I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapter!!

[lampmanliveblogs]

Absolutely amazing. It could not be more perfect.

I’m gonna headcanon that Camila’s reaction to seeing Luz’ little ”Hi! I’m bi!” drawing was to respond with a ”Hi Bi, I’m mom!”

(as none of you may remember, I did say that I had an idea for something I’d do for this moment. I was gonna do another Engelsofors quote ((the scene where Vanessa tells her mom that she’s dating Linnéa, which effectively doubles as her coming out as bi))… but looking at the actual scene, it really wasn’t as funny as I remembered it as, soooo… i’m just not gonna do it)

I love this screenshot, it looks like the other palismen think Flapjack has gone crazy. By the Titan! He’s pecking at the floor! What new spore of madness is this!?

Seeing all the palismen together like this does remind me of one of the predictions I was going to make in that post I was supposed to post before this liveblog but never did.

Assuming that Philip (what’s left of him anyway) still has enough of his mind left to form coherent thoughts and plans, his first priority will likely be to regain some of his strength. And would you look at that, there we have four yummy palismen ready to be cracked open like some radioactive coconuts. Even if he wasn’t seeking revenge on the kids (which he most certainly will be doing), those palismen alone are enough of a motivation for him to show up and cause trouble.

Now, I’m not sure what exactly he could do to cause trouble, but I’m sure he’ll find a way.

Amity. Sweetie. Luz already loves you. You do not need to try this hard.

Hm… can I wring some symbolic meaning out of these outfits? Of course I can. Observe:

Gus At first glance, it’s easy to conclude that Gus probably just picked out what he thought looked cool and that’s most likely the case. But you’ll notice that out of the four newcomers to the Human Realm, he’s the one who’s got the most ”normal” outfit. Which makes sense. His knowledge of the Human Realm has often been played for laughs, but he’s still very passionate and interested in everything human. And his stated wish back in Hunting Palismen was to become an ambassador to the Human Realm. With this in mind, it makes sense he’d try to assemble what might be considered a ”normal” human outfit, to blend in and show respect for the human culture.

Willow Seeing as there is no flyer derby in the Human Realm, it seems Willow opted for the next best thing and is trying her hand at roller derby (which, fun fact, the only reason I know that sport exists is thanks to a Steven Universe fanfic I read years ago). Despite her threatening pose with her hands balled up into fists and the intimidating spikes on her helmet, she is still smiling brightly and her outfit is brightly colored. Willow is at heart a very caring and kind individual, but when need be, she can be tough and powerful, This is a theme we’ve seen repeated several times with her character.

Amity The events of Clouds on the Horizon saw Amity more or less disowning her mother (take note of the absence of Odalia in the drawing of her family in one of the previous shots*). There wasn’t much time to process the meaning of that at the time, since they were a bit busy dealing with the end of the world and everything. Now, however, Amity is finally free of her mother’s overly controlling attitude and enters her rebellious edgy phase. These are all likely clothes Amity would not be allowed to wear if Odalia had a say in the matter. ”Ripped jeans? Not in this household, young lady!”

(*speaking of the previous shots, before I forget… when the mutant rat from Yesterday’s Lie bursts through the board, we can briefly see Hunter’s hands without any gloves. I’m fairly certain that’s the first time. I didn’t notice any scars)

The hat looks familiar to me. Is there a character in one of the Mario games that wears a hat like that?

Hunter Sorta similar to Amity, but even worse, Hunter likely never had any say in what kinds of clothes he got to wear growing up. Having been raised the way he was, he likely has no real grasp of what his own identity is (no doubt made worse by the grimwalker revelation and finding out he’s a clone). Thus, he can’t really express himself through his clothing the same way the other kids can. But one thing he does realize is how large part of him Flapjack has become. Flapjack, in many ways, has become a part of Hunter and a fundamental piece of his identity. Flapjack is symbolic of Hunter beginning to stray from the path created for him by Belos and him eventually breaking free of his control to become his own person.

That’s why he’s dressed as a giant red chicken.

And Vee coming in with her new form as well! I don’t even care that I was spoiled on her new look, I’m just so happy to see my snake daughter thriving.

Speaking of which, there is a noticeable difference between Vee’s Luz form and her new form. The difference in appearance is obvious, but if we look at this before and after, we can see some important differences in how she carries herself.

Luz!Vee still looks a bit timid and with a very neat appearance, much like how we saw her in Yesterday’s Lie. In her new form, she looks a lot more confident and her clothes & hair are a lot less neat and picture perfect. Her eyes and hair are also closer to her eyes and hair* in her basilisk form. She’s still disguising herself as a human, but it’s closer to the real her. In some ways, I think Vee has become herself.

(*well… reptiles don’t have hair. It’s as ridiculous as feathers on a mammal. Maybe the ”hair” basilisks have are closer to the pycnofibres you’d find on pterosaurs)

(i am honestly surprised at how good this edit turned out. especially seeing as I don’t have any actual image editing software. no, i did this in pages.)

Honestly? Same, Camila. Same. You love to see it.

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s3e1 #thanks to them

[your-local-grubdog]

Pikmin Fandom Monthly - March 2023

Welcome to the March edition of Pikmin Fandom Monthly! For anyone new here, this is just a little monthly series where on the first day of each month, I share neat fan projects from the pikmin fandom made in the previous month! Today's is a day late and shorter than ideal unfortunately; I had some technical hiccups this past month that resulted in most of my saved posts being lost :( so I spent yesterday trying to find some more to make up for my lost notes. This time, I was able to get some feedback as well so I got some suggestions here not from me!

On that note, please feel free to leave suggestions in the comments about what April 2023 works should be included in the next edition! Any creative pikmin fan work is welcome, so long as it was made during this April.

Just like last time, this was cross-posted to the Pikmin Park community on dream width!

Now, lets get onto the art! Fanart and One-Panel Comics

First up is a very cute drawing of a hairy bulborb staring up at the stars by Louivi on Tumblr! It's such a soft and pretty peice with an almost dreamy feel to it, I love it!

Piper on Tumblr drew this ADORABLE art of the pikmin with Oatchi and oh my god I love this so much, Oatchi's eyes are so big and cute and I adore this so much!!!

Pikmin OCs need more love! So here's a really cute doodle of two different yellow pikmin OCs by Spr1ngPeach! I don't know much about either character, but the drawing is very cute. I like it a lot!Pikmin are chaotic little beasts. Feral toddlers, if you will. So clearly, we should arm them all with knives (/sar). In all seriousness though, ikol-art on tumblr drew this adorable little red pikmin with a very large knife. I love it so much, it's great.

Pizza pikmin? Pizza pikmin! By extremelylost360 on tumblr. What more need I say? It's pizza pikmin!

This one is a bit different! Most art here is 2D, but this is an entire 3D render of the Forest of Hope by kinpraw on Twitter! I love the style, it looks like something out of a stop motion movie.

Cece on twitter drew us some more Oatchi cuteness, showing him with an adorable little ice pikmin on his back! The icemin's face is precious - you can say it's melting my heart! ... yeah okay I'll see myself out for that one -

But not before sharing this cute project! Heronin on Twitter is adding to a huge doodle page every day until pikmin 4 comes out! Here's the update for March 31st! I'll see about featuring it every month as an update, but I'll certainly share the final product come July! 

Hey!Pikmin also deserves some love, no? Well I say it does! And this fireflap bulborb was drawn by Taylor C on Twitter! I just really like the soft lines and warm colors. Other Works Firstly, we have this mixed media sculpture (mostly clay) of some pikmin growing in a pot by Tete's DIY! The link is to a video, so you can see how they made it as well! Last but certainly not least is Bikmin 269, a rom-hack of the second game (link is to the trailer). Honestly, I don't know much about it! It was recommended to me by a trusted friend, and I've yet to had the time to play it for myself. Most I can say is to check it out - and know that the creators say that it is best enjoyed as blind as possible!And with that, these are the April works that I wanted to feature (and that I was able to find again after the tech stuff -w- ). I'll hopefully see you at the start of May with April's works, assuming that my finals don't eat me alive! Seriously, though, while I'll try to get it out May 1st don't be surprised if it's delayed by a whole week on account of finals season! ^^;

#pikmin #pikmin fandom #borb screams

[pbandjesse]

Sadly baby mouse died overnight. I am not shocked after how quickly he deteriorated yesterday. I just hope he was comfortable in the end. I feel really bad. But I tried my best. I really did. I would bury him with his brother in the clover pot.

I felt sad this morning because of that. I hadn't slept bad. And let myself sleep until 9. When I woke up I had a sore throat. It's like deep in the base of my skull. Which might be be allergies but it for sure not comfy.

I got dressed. And tried to feel fine. I cleaned up all the mouse stuff. Said goodbye. Tried to feel normal.

I had a little breakfast. And I worked on the sweater project. I decided that it's not the right shape. Which is alright. It was a fun try and I will move on to the next project now. I am not sure what that will look like but I'm looking forward to trying to make something else

My hands need a little break I think though and I might do some sewing to get ready for the Christmas market. Or draw some new bears. We will see.

I would chill on the couch after I vacuumed up the yarn fluff I got all over the living room. I thought about cleaning but then I was just a bit paralyzed. I was tired and couldn't do anything. So I didn't. I had a deviled egg. I ran downstairs to get a package for a neighbor when the doorbell rang. I laid in bed for a little while.

I got up at 12 and finished getting ready. I put my shoes on. And I was off. I said hello to my neighbor outside. And drove to awah.

I put on music to hype myself up. And got there early. I was most of the way set up when Zoe got there.

It was a fun day. I was really pleased to see the sisters back from the spring who I really like. I also just really liked the project. We were talking about geometric shapes and colors and patterns. And everyone seemed really into it. Which I always love. I just want everyone to have fun. And this was a good one.

Me and Naomi also made some art to encourage the teens. One of the sister, Tiffany, loved the black outlines on my art and asked if she could do it too. Of course!! She seemed so excited, it was so sweet. Her sister, Sierra, held my hand and told me she was afraid of bees. She also was very concerned with the dates of the class which I think is very sweet. She just wants to know what's up, which I can absolutely relate too.

We had a lull between groups and were able to reset. I had a nice conversation with Mary Ellen about what puhtok does and the group I work with on Tuesdays with profoundly disabled students. She got a little misty! I was surprised but I also got it.

The adult class was fun. I had a nice conversation with Andrew and his dad about how Andrew has such a beautiful eye for color and his work reminds me of Hilma af Klint. Which I think made Andrew flattered.

I also just had some nice interactions with Richard and his aid. About pop art and painting. It was a fun class.

Me and Naomi would chat about her trip next weekend and how we have no class. It'll be nice to have a free Sunday. And we were pretty good at reminding people about it. Hate to mess up any of their routines, I know how important that is for them, but everyone seems mostly chill about it.

It would take a little bit to get all of the materials out away. Andrew and Brian had helped us bring things to the table and I got everything put away. Chatted with Andrew's dad. But soon it was time to go.

I remembered to alarm the building. And then walked to my car. Which was surprisingly warm. I took my sweater and socks off. And wrote my notes for the class while the ac cooled down the car.

I I went to target. I was originally going to go this morning but I am glad I waited. It was fun. But it was also incredibly busy. Target was having some kind of sale if you used the app. Which finally pushed me to download the app.

And I saved so much??? I had $18 in Cashback on my account I didn't know about and a $5 gift card, plus 30% off half my items. I ended up getting a $95 order for $58! That's crazy!

I did really good sticking to my list. But I also treated myself to a beautiful green fleece jacket that I love. Its so soft. And if we use girl math, with my discounts today I got it for free.

Of course it's way to warm to wear it. But in the coming weeks I am sure it's going to be great.

I paid after waiting on a very long line. Almost left the store without getting the security tag taken off the fleece but after the door beeped at me twice I went back and got it fixed. Oops.

I dropped off my purchases in the car and walked to five below. Which was also to busy but it was fine. I did not have luck finding what I was looking for. The final items on my list. Pimple patches and brown sugar chapstick. I still had fun looking around.

I remembered I had a $10 gift card for Ulta so I walked next door and had great luck. I found a new brand of patches that weren't expensive and the brown sugar chapstick! Which had a redesigned package so I'm glad I was able to find it even if it didn't look like I expected from the old packaging.

The girl at the counter was excited for me that my total was $4 after my gift card. Excellent. Love a deal. She also helped me fix my Ulta account that wasn't set up correctly. Why it had my Minnesota address and my brother's name I will never know. Weird weird weird.

I walked to the Michaels next. No luck on the strap material but I found a few other little things I was excited about. Some ribbon and super glue. A cup and a wall hook shaped like a heart. I had a coupon for there too. I was doing really good today.

I got a piece of candy while I was there and ate that while I walked back to the car. And then home.

It was a nice drive back. And I was really happy to be back. I was tired.

James was playing DND with their friends. I put things away and laid on the couch with sweetp. James said they would play for another hour. And once that hour was up I requested they get off and have dinner with me. So they did.

They would run to the store to get dressing. And then we had a salad, fries, and grilled cheeses for dinner. James just made one dinner that we shared and it was very sweet. I love my husband.

I have been hanging out all evening. Texting Celia about how whimsy is the best prevention for COVID. Sweetp was being a little cutie cuddling me. I got a shower. James and me are in bed now. I am very much ready for sleep.

James told me that they are very sorry that baby mouse died. But they feel like taking care of him healed something in them for the mouse tests they had to do in highschool. I am glad that we tried. I am sad but I know we showed kindness and that is important to me.

Tomorrow we are taking Sweetp to the vet for a check up. He is to fat so I am expecting them to tell us that. But besides that I think we are just having a chill day. I hope it is restful.

Sleep well everyone. Wash your hands and take care of eachother.

[polizwrites]

PoliZ’s Birthday Self-Recs: Stuckony

{got busy yesterday and forgot to post this!}

Indulging myself in the week leading up to my birthday by sharing some of my favorite MCU/Marvel fics I’ve written, grouped primarily  by pairing/relationship.   

After posting my WinterIron, Stucky and Stony lists, I don’t think anyone would be surprised to find out I also ship Stuckony aka  WinterIronShield aka  Bucky/Steve/Tony.    I’ve written 22 fics featuring this throuple which IMHO gives us the best of all three ships, as well as some primo pining opportunities!  Whether it’s Steve and Bucky as an established pair with Tony feeling like a third wheel, or Bucky coming in from the cold only to find Tony and Steve are together.  For that matter - Bucky and Tony could be a couple first, with Steve mourning over lost opportunities with both of them.  But happy threesome endings (smutty or otherwise) are almost always in store for these remarkable men. 

Here  - in reverse chronological order  by pub date - are a few of my favorite Stuckony fics I’ve written, at least as of this moment.   If  you’d like to know why I picked these particular ones, feel free to send an ask, and if you go read them, I’d love to hear what you think, either here or as a comment on the fic!   Finally, a big shiny No Prize to anyone who identifies the song that one of these titles came from!

A Slow Thaw

(Teen, canon-divergent established relationship, 16,087 words) --  Written as a follow on from  @27dragons​‘ most excellent  From Winter's Cold, this fic presents the threesome from an outsider POV - Peggy Carter, aka The Winter Soldier.   This fic picks up about three weeks after the end of FWC and focuses on Peggy's recovery and its ups and downs.   There is drama and angst; and a bit of fluff, and an oddly appropriate movie choice by Barton.   ( I have an multiple POV version of this story as well:  A Slow Thaw - Take Two)

Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right) 

(Teen, wingfic & getting together, 18,565 words)  Afghanistan took more from Tony Stark than most people understand; the surgery in the cave stealing his ability to fly.  But in the wake of the Battle of New York, Tony discovers an unexpected sympathizer.  However, the revelation of the Winter Soldier’s identity and his recovery spurs Tony to reach for the skies once again.

In a Fix      

(Mature, established relationship, 788  words)  -- Steve is called in to do some plumbing repair work for a very handsome (and very flirty) man who is also apparently married.  Can he keep his cool or is he going to be in hot water? (NOTE: This is a pre-negotiated roleplay scene - no actual cheating occurs) 

Color Our World 

(General, kidfic + established relationship/adding a third, 1374 words)  - On their way back from Peter's preschool, Bucky and Peter find a painting they want to buy for Tony.  When the  three of them return to the gallery, they meet the attractive artist responsible for the piece.

Flawed Hypothesis 

(Mature, non-traditional a/b/o, 7617 words)  What everyone knows about certain members of the Avengers turns out to not exactly be true. NOTE: Co-written with @psychiccatpanda

Fill Me Up With Your Love

(Explicit,  PWP with very mild D/s, 1613 words) Steve’s lovers had told him three things before blindfolding him: he could come whenever he needed to, at least one of them would be touching him at all times, and before the scene was over,  they’d both be inside him.

#writing stuff #fic recco #mcu/marvel #stuckony #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Tony stark #Steve x Bucky x Tony #Shameless Self Promo

[rothjuje]

Today broke me. My spicy one screamed for 90 minutes straight this morning. At that point we still had not unpacked ONE box (Tuesday leg drama and urgent care, Wednesday leg drama and urgent care, Thursday leg drama and ER). My absence this week has been dysregulating for the kids, as well as strangers coming and going.

Everything has been just running around in circles. Hired someone to paint. He painted part of the ceiling by accident and now the whole ceiling needs to be painted. He also spilled paint in several places, but oddly not the carpet that’s going to be ripped out anyway. Sigh. On top of that I don’t even like the paint color and he did a crappy job in general so I’m just going to buy a new color and do it myself. In all my spare time. Ha. I’d never worry about paint at a time like this, but we need the living room painted to get the tv up and I need Cocomelon for my sanity.

We still don’t have lights upstairs (lamp ended up behind couch in playroom, could move couch but it’s broken and lamp will not survive twin toddlers).

Can’t unpack kitchen because there aren’t cabinet locks. Decide on baby gates instead of cabinet locks. Order them. They’re late. They get here. They don’t fit. We still don’t have pots or pans. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in 6 weeks (I’ve been surviving off of cereal and bagels) and it just makes me so sad. Baking bread was how I kept my sanity.

Basically, to unpack, you need to take things out of boxes and put them somewhere that two two year olds can’t reach. Which is simply not possible when they’re awake, because when they’re awake they’re glued to me.

So. Anyway. I regretted every decision I had ever made to get me to this point, had a good cry, and then a good scream. Then Jess the neighbor finally got to come back over (48 hours fever and vomit free) and that restored some of my sanity.

Then neither twin had a 6 pm disaster nap and they were actually in bed before 9 pm. HALLELUJAH. Yes, it’s been a thing here. I’ll look over and one of the twins will just be passed out on the floor or on the couch. Transitioning out of naps is such a frustrating time in general. Sigh.

Justin and I managed to unpack about 8 boxes each after the kids went down. You can now walk in our room, the dining room, and the playroom. There are 9 boxes left in our room, 11 in the dining room, 7 in the girls’ room, 3 in George’s room, and too many to count in the basement.

But. Progress. Actual forward motion. Thank Gd.

Okay. Leg. Sat in ER most of yesterday (I drove to one of the good hospitals and I still sat forever, and then they had 5 patients in these giant rooms with little dividers). Texas is so different. You wait for 30-60 minutes and then get your own spacious room. Honestly, Texas has a lot going for it. It’s very functional down there. I miss it, a lot.

Anyway. Rash is still spreading, but that’s normal up to 5 days into antibiotics they say (which I wish urgent care would have said, I would like my time and money back from yesterday please). So. They said the purple is fine, the blisters are fine, that if it’s necrotizing it will be immensely painful and if I feel immense pain come back.

Hoping that things will continue on the up and up. Dining room looks cute, our room more spacious than we thought, playroom very cute. In-laws come tomorrow and I am very very thankful for the extra hands. I miss seeing familiar faces and I’m excited for the normalcy of a visit.