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cupidlovesastro · 5 months

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₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ ˚₊

𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑜𝒾𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃(𝟣𝟧𝟪𝟧) 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈

what does union represent?

this asteroid represents marriage, when you come together with someone, how you come together, what attracts you two together, and what will be important in your relationship!

check natal, synastry, or composite chart. if your looking at your natal chart then this could be referring to your future spouse!

1st house- you two could’ve came together for appearances. you both could be very attractive people that just seem like you would be together. this also could’ve been a “let’s pretend we’re dating” situation, and you guys ended up liking each other a lot and marrying. what’s important to your relationship is to keep your appearances, you could want to be seen as the “it” couple. your wedding will be very aesthetically pleasing, and the way they asked to marry you could also be like something out of the movies. you could’ve came together on january, the 1st of a month, new years, new moon, aries season or beginning of a new era in your life

2nd house- you two came together at work or you met then when you were going through some kind of daily/ weekly/ monthly routine. grocery shopping for example. you also could’ve gotten together because you financially support one another. what’s important in your relationships is keeping each other in check financially and being financially stable. when you you get married, the wedding could be very rich looking and the rings could be expensive. you might gift your partner money or vise versa. you guys could meet or get together in february, the 2nd, 20ths , waxing crescent, taurus season or valentines

3rd house- you two could’ve met at a young age or during elementary or middle school. you also could’ve met at a social event like a concert. what’s important to your relationship is communication and understanding. you value long and in depth conversations with your partner. what attracts you to your person is their intelligence, intellect, and the way their brain works. this could be intriguing to you or you guys are on the same page about many things. when you two get married your vows could be long because there’s so much you have to say. when you propose or when they propose, they could have a lot to say when you or them are on their knees. you could meet during march, the 3rd, 30th, first quarter moon, or gemini season

4th house- you two could’ve met because of a family member that was introducing you two or at a family event. you also could’ve met through your mother or on a self care day. what’s important to you and your partner is building a family , having children, being motherly or a good mother, and self care. what attracted you two is your parental qualities, your emotional intelligence, and how you feel like you could build or start a family with this person. when you get married, you or them could do it in front of family or people you consider family. one of you or both of you could also be crying or start crying when this happens. your wedding could have your entire family invited as well. you could meet during april, the 4th, 14th, 24th, waxing gibbous, or cancer season.

5th house- you two could’ve met in an artistic setting like art class or entertainment setting like theatre. you also could’ve met from a dating app of some kind, looking for love, or just to link up. what attracted you two is romantic attraction, and you guys brought out each others inner child. you also could’ve felt like yourself around them and they inspire your creativity. what’s important in this relationship is keeping things lively and brining out your playful sides often. keeping the love strong and the spark going is something you value. when you get married, you could be at an artist even or they could do it in a creative way. you could meet them during may , the 5th, 15th, 25th, or during leo season

6th house- you could’ve met at the gym or during volunteer work. if your in service work, then you could’ve met that way as well. if you work at a pet shelter or a job that deals with animals often, you could meet them there. what’s important to you two is doing things for one another, your love language could be acts of service. what attracts you to one another or to your partner is the analytical nature you both have and if one of you work out or have a good routine, that could be a green flag. when you get married , this person could purposely have worked out more so they could be in shape for your proposal or vice versa. they also could’ve had this planned for months. i can also see that the day of the proposal, before they proposed they could’ve done a lot of things for you like make you breakfast, but you gifts, do your chores, etc. significant times for this placement are the 6th, 16th, 26th, june, or virgo season

7th house- you could’ve met at someone else’s wedding, business meeting, or your friend and their lover could’ve introduced you to this person as well. what attracted you two is that you both seem harmonic, peaceful, and marriage material! what’s important to this relationship is keeping peace, balance, and also the love strong. you guys don’t want to argue or have any conflict between you two. when you get married, their vows could be about how you make them feel at peace or vice versa. the wedding could be iconic and very significant to both of you. it could also be very aesthetically appealing. important dates for you could be july, 7th, 17th, 27th, libra season

8th house- you could meet in a mysterious location or a location where there’s suspense like an escape room, forest, haunted house, etc. you also could’ve met by linking up for sexual reasons or even while you were moving houses and getting new property. you are attracted to them because they have sexual appeal and it’s someone you feel like you could become one with. they also could have a mysterious aura to them, vise versa. what’s important in your relationship is sensual intimacy, sharing things together, and maybe even spoiling each other. when you get married, you two could’ve signed your names on something together, and your wedding could be in a area that’s secretive like a forest. they also could’ve gave you a large sum of money before or after getting married. important dates are august, 8th, 18th, 28th, or scorpio season

9th house- you could meet this person while traveling, while in college, while in a debate, or at some kind of church or religious gathering. they also could come from a different community than you, like if your white, they could be black. this first interaction could’ve also been long distance, or when you get together it could be long distance. what attracts you two is your knowledge on certain topics, specifically societal topics like religion, culture, and law. you and this person could debate or share your conspiracies and philosophies on random topics. what’s important to this relationship is being open minded with each other and allowing you both to come together and support each other while also having freedom. when you get married, it could be outside of the country you currently reside in, and it could be cultural. you guys could also get eloped. important dates could be september, 9th, 19th, 29th, or sagittarius season

10th house- you will meet them through work, a boss, your dad or a masculine figure, your career, or at a place where there are well known people. what attracts you two to each other is possibly one of y’all’s masculine nature, or fatherly nature. also the line of work one of you do could’ve also appealed to one of you, or if they are well known then that could’ve attracted you. what’s important to this relationship is your reputation, status, and keeping structure in your relationship. you want to to be strong and stable. fulfilling relationship goals could also be an important focus. when you get married is could be very public, and gain a lot of media attention or exposure. this person could have proposed in front of work friends, in the work place, or after you’ve had work, vice versa. your marriage could give you some kind of reputation as well. important dates are october, the 10th, 20th, or 30th, halloween, or capricorn season.

11th house- you guys could’ve met through a shared community or friend group you were in. it also could’ve been a singular friend that introduced you guys to one another. i can also see that meeting them through the internet, like social media could’ve been a thing. you could’ve manifested them or they could’ve manifested you as well. what attracts you to each other is that they could’ve been everything you wished for in a person and you could see a future with them, vice versa. this person could also be your best friend within a lover which you enjoy. what’s important in your relationship is keeping things friendly, not in the sense that you guys aren’t a couple, but it’s like you can be 100% yourself around them. you guys could have the same friends or get along with each others friends which is a nice addition to you and/or them. when you get married it could be in front of all your friends, or in front of a specific group of people. it could also be exactly what you wanted from a proposal. your wedding could have many friends and family friends. i could also see you two eloping and having a private wedding. significant dates are 11th, 21st, 22nd, 31st, november, thanksgiving, or aquarius season

12th house- you could’ve met them at the end of the year, end of a relationship, or end of an era in your life. you also could’ve met them during a spiritual journey or awakening, when your older in age, in your dreams, or during a healing journey. what attracted you two is each other’s spiritual nature, or you feel a spiritual connection to them. you also could be attracted to each other because you met when you were healing or on a spiritual path. what’s important to this relationship is being empathetic, healing one another, and growing old together. when you get married, no one could’ve known, like suddenly you guys popped out and was like “we’re married !”😭. also they could’ve proposed during you two’s alone time, or you could’ve had a dream that they proposed then they did. significant dates could be december, 12th, 22nd, 24th, end of the year, new years, new moon, or pisces season

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writeonwhiskey · 21 days

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the skz house: ch 14 (18+)

a/n: thank you as always to @bahablastplz for editing. thank you, thank you, thank you for your continued reading & support of this fic!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter thirteen here ]

Chapter Fourteen: Of Surprises and Closets

Friday, November 10th

Apparently, the boys’ allowance is $3,000 a month. You and the other girls were fucking floored when Jeongin lost and the total in the pot shot up such a significant amount. You had never contemplated just how wealthy the boys, or their families, might be until then. Yes, the house you’re all living in is huge, but most fraternities and sororities have large homes for their members to live in. Perhaps the four Tesla’s in the driveway should have given an indication…or the way Chan handed over that credit card with no hesitation the day you moved in or anytime someone needed to go grocery shopping.

Their lifestyles are funded by much higher powers, they needn’t worry about the grocery bill. You can’t imagine being given $3,000 a month to use as you see fit. Your parents send you just enough to cover your ‘rent’ and keep your basic needs met—and it’s not even half of what the boys receive. It makes you wonder what type of businesses their fathers run and what’s in store for them after they graduate. It also makes you realize that Hyunjin can suck it. You don’t need to feel bad about making him or Chan lose. No wonder they have made this a tradition with such high stakes. It’s simply because they can.

Phase One, as you have begun to call it, with Chan is already underway. He’s not exactly an open book after just a few days of casual conversation, however he is at least sharing small inconsequential details about his life with you. Such as the name of his siblings, his favorite color, and that he performed a Bruno Mars song for his 7th grade talent show. Yes, there’s footage, fuck no you can’t see it (his words). But it’s something.

It crosses your mind, though, that he could be entertaining your prying questions and showing an interest in you because he believes it will keep you at bay. You have to remember he’s playing this game too. Maybe his angle is to weaken your resolve by showing some semblance of kindness. To keep you from trying to make him lose, because when he’s being cordial and engaging with you…why would you want to ruin that?

You have no way of knowing if it’s true, of course. That doesn’t stop the thought of it from leaving a bad taste in your mouth. If that is the case, if he’s only letting you in temporarily and plans to shut you out again in December, you honestly don’t know how you will react.

You turn your focus to Hyunjin lying in bed next to you, still fast asleep. He has class this afternoon and while you don’t wish to wake him…there are goals to be achieved.

You slowly inch closer to him, careful not to make big movements that might wake him. Possibly unnecessary antics because the boy could sleep through an earthquake. You drape one leg across both of his and place your hand on his stomach. You rest your head on his chest, feeling the light thump of his heart against your check.

When you’re sure he’s still asleep, you slide your hand along his bare stomach, rubbing it gently from side to side while consistently moving down lower and lower until you reach his boxers. You keep up the side-to-side motion of your hand, hooking your thumb into the waistband as you do. The rise and fall of his chest remain steady, encouraging you to slip your hand beneath the fabric. You lower your hand further until you feel his warm cock against you.

His heartbeat quickens and you feel him lift his head up and wish you could see the look on his face, but you can’t look at him yet.

“Mmmph,” he grunts, halfheartedly swatting your hand as his head falls back against the pillows.

You cup his cock, causing him to let out a frustrated, or possibly annoyed, groan. It twitches against your hand as you gently squeeze it, betraying his half-assed objections by responding to your touch.

“Y/n,” he says sleepily.

You continue to ignore him, choosing instead to lightly run your fingers up and down his growing length.

“This isn’t fair.”

You finally lift your head to look up at him with innocent, blinking eyes, your chin resting on his chest. You grip his cock in your hand and start stroking up and down. You can feel him harden with each movement. He draws in a long, quiet breath. His hips start to rock as you stroke. He’s enjoying it—he doesn’t really want you to stop either.

It may not be fair, but this isn’t breaking the rules. The girls can touch, just not to completion. And you can’t put your mouth on it unless he asks you to—which will result in him losing. This is a very good predicament to have him in.

You sit up, propping yourself on your elbow to position your face closer to his. You remove your hand from his boxers and bring it to your mouth to spit in.

“Y/n,” he says again. His eyes watch your hand as it returns to his cock.

You lean forward to kiss his neck, licking with your tongue, nipping with your teeth as you make your way up to his jaw.

“Y/n,” he says again, lifting his arm to tightly grip your shoulder.

“Yes?” You finally respond, a smile seeping through your tone. You continue laying kisses on his cheek, still stroking him.

“Stop,” he says firmly.

You lean your head back and pout at him, halting your hand movements without fully releasing him.

“You want me to lose?” He asks.

“You don’t want me to win?” You counter.

“Hm.” He seems to consider it for a moment. “Touchè.”

“Are we stuck in a stalemate, then?” You say, removing your hand from his cock and boxers completely. Before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, though, you sit up and straddle his waist, making sure his cock is pressed right against your center. You roll your hips against him for good measure as you speak, “You don’t miss fucking me?”

He groans, hands flying to your waist to keep you in place.

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what? That you don’t miss fucking me?” You say with a smirk, sliding your hands up his chest. “You must not. And I thought we had something special.”

He grabs a pillow and holds it over his face.

“Is it easier to lose if you don’t watch?” You ask.

Him grabbing the pillow has released your waist and you’re free to grind against him again. You trace patterns on his chest lightly with your nails, wanting to overstimulate him with sensations.

“November is my least favorite month of the year.” He announces, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Maybe I can help make it your favorite?” You grab the pillow covering his face, pulling on it until he releases it. He’s staring up at you with pleading brown eyes.

You toss the pillow aside and then reach for the straps of the tank top you’re wearing. You slowly pull them both down, exposing your breasts little by little.

“No, no, no,” Hyunjin whines.

You take his hand in yours, bringing it up towards your breast. He resists.

The boys are not supposed to touch like this.

“We could just get it over with and then we don’t have to worry about the rest of the month,” you try to sway him, tugging on his wrist again. “Don’t you miss how soft they feel in your hands?

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pull his hands back with not even half the strength you know he can muster.

“I can’t lose this soon. Don’t do that to me, y/n.”

Still holding on to his wrist, you lower his hand down to your pajama shorts.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure.” He replies, snapping his eyes open.

You roll your eyes and release his wrist. He doesn’t move his hand from where it’s resting against your shorts, though.

“What if we don’t tell anyone?” You ask, putting your hands behind you on the bed, leaning back and spreading your legs further apart. You roll your entire body against him.

“You promise?” He asks.

Oh, how you wish he hadn’t said that. Even if this is just a stupid game, you don’t want to break a promise you make to Hyunjin. Not when he’s been so good to you. You hesitate in responding for a moment too long.

“I’m gonna take a cold shower.” He moves his hands to your hips and guides you off him. He rolls out of bed and stretches as he stands. “I’ll add $100 to the pot after.”

He tosses a wink at you, and you smile.

It was worth a shot.

You check the time and realize you have to meet with the girls this afternoon, anyways. Rhiannon’s birthday is coming up and the four of you have been plotting a certain member’s downfall for the last couple days surrounding the event.

Monday, November 13th

It’s nearly halfway through the month. There’s a total of $6,800 in the pot. Jeongin was the first to add his full allowance, followed by Felix. Han, Hyunjin, and Lee Know are also on the board now. Only Seungmin and Chan have fully resisted up to this point.

It’s Rhiannon’s birthday today. She’s due back to the house with Seungmin any minute. You and the other girls convinced him to spend the afternoon with her and keep her away from the house for a ‘surprise’ party, but she’s fully aware of what’s happening. She has a plan of her own while they’re out of the house.

Everyone else, except you and Chan, are waiting in the basement for her to arrive.

“Anything else that needs to be taken down?” Chan asks from behind you in the kitchen.

“Just grab the bags of chips and pretzels,” you tell him, holding her cake carefully with both hands.

He grabs the bags from the counter then follows behind you towards the basement. You both stop in your tracks when the garage door opens and the sound of a bickering Seungmin and Rhiannon travels down the hallway.

“I don’t think it counts,” Seungmin is saying.

You turn your head to peak over your shoulder at Chan, unsure of what to do next. You start to take another step towards the basement, thinking if you move fast enough you can head back down before they spot you. But Chan hooks a finger in the loop of your jeans with one hand and uses the other to open the jacket closet door to your left. He nudges you inside, then steps in right behind you and tries to close the door as softly as possible.

You’re immediately enveloped in darkness when the door fully shuts.

“That’s cheating, Seungmin. You’re being weird about it. Are you ashamed?” Rhiannon says haughtily.

You and Chan are frozen still, the cake the only thing keeping you apart as they come down the hallway, voices growing louder.

“No, but—”

“But nothing. You refused to bring me home for whatever reason, said you wanted to fuck me in the car—and you did—and now you don’t want to come clean to everyone?”

You look down to hide your smile. It worked. Like she said, Seungmin had to think it was his idea.

Your eyes focus on the cake, and you see it’s in danger of being squished between the two of you.

“The cake,” you say softly.

Chan moves to help you with it, but the crinkling of the chip bags in his hands stops him. He abruptly stops all movement, and you giggle quietly.

“Shhh,” he shushes you, but being this close you can feel the laughter rumbling within him. He slowly squats and places the bags on the floor, careful not to make a sound. When he stands his hands cover yours beneath the cake causing an instant wave of heat to course through your body.

It’s been almost two weeks since he’s even remotely touched you. And you could be crazy, but it feels like he caresses the back of your hand. Twice.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. One hand leaves yours to retrieve it. He reads over the notification.

“Felix is telling Seungmin to stall her for ten minutes while they fix her…balloon arch…thing,” Chan whispers.

“Tel them we’re trapped in the closet,” you reply.

“Sure thing, R. Kelly,” he mumbles with a low chuckle before typing back a reply.

He takes the cake from you and reaches over your head to place it on the shelf above you.

Someone walks by the closet and you both still.

“Rhi,” you hear the familiar voice of Changbin call out.

“I’ll be in the basement,” Seungmin says, sounding extremely annoyed, as he passes the door you’re hiding behind.

You don’t know what kind of diversion this is; it was not planned by the four for you.

“Can you make me a sandwich?” Changbin asks, his voice moving towards the kitchen.

You silently slap your forehead. Of course Changbin would ask that. Have her catering to him on her birthday.

Chan’s phone buzzes again and he checks it.

“We’ll have to wait a few minutes before we can leave,” he says.

Being in this closet with him was not part of today’s plan either…but it’s an opportunity, nonetheless.

You become painfully aware of how close you are in this confined space and of how long it’s been since he’s really touched you. As much as he has opened up to you, it seems everything physical between you has gotten further away.

You take a step closer to him, occupying the small space the cake was just in. Your nose is practically rubbing the space between his collar bones. He doesn’t move back. Not that there’s much room for him to. The scent of him fills your senses each time you inhale. It’s all you can focus on right now. How much you miss him. How much you want him.

You tilt your head up towards his, slowly pressing up on your tiptoes.

He doesn’t stop you.

Your puckered lips connect with his jaw, sliding along his jawline, moving towards his lips until you feel him stiffen.

“Chan,” you say quietly, your mouth still pressed against his skin. You don’t want to come on too strong and settle for a humorous approach. “Have you ever played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Y/n,” his tone sounds like a warning.

“What? Kissing is allowed,” you reply innocently.

You’re fully taking advantage of the situation. He can’t leave this closet without ruining the ‘surprise’. He can’t object loudly. You can’t see the look on his face, but you bet he’s staring daggers at you. Maybe you’ll pay for this, but regret is for tomorrow.

You don’t wait for him to reply before placing your lips on his. As you do, you’re not even sure this has anything to do with the competition. All you know is that you have missed the feeling of being pressed against him, his soft lips on yours.

He holds still for a moment, but you don’t back down. You can’t. You have to take this step towards initiating contact if any of your other plans are going to work. You slip your tongue out to slide it across his bottom lip, seeking entrance.

“Please,” you whisper.

The moment his hands are on your hips feels like the ultimate win. Sure, you’ll be disappointed if you don’t get him to fully cave before the month is over…but you’ll always have this moment.

You place your hands on his chest, pushing slightly until his back is against the wall. He pulls you against him as he parts his lips, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. His hands slide from your hips to your lower back, down your ass, cupping it to press you further into him. You wish you both weren’t wearing jeans. You want to feel his cock grow against your skin.

Your kisses feel needy, as they always do, yet sweet at the same time. That’s new. It feels like he misses you, too, and that makes you want to squeal and cry. He has been so determined to steer clear of touching you in any capacity that you assumed this challenge was no big deal for him. Maybe you’re wrong.

When Chan pushes himself away from the wall, you’re afraid he’s going to tell you to cut the shit and stay off him. Instead, he picks you up and takes two small steps towards the opposite wall so your back rests against it. He hooks one arm around your waist and the other finds its place at your throat.

You moan as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, arching your back to push yourself against him even more. You want to fully grind on him, to make his cock hard and have him fuck you right here in this closet. But that’s too risky for everything at stake. You still need him to think you have no interest in making him lose.

Right now, though, all you get are his lips quietly pressing against yours. And you’ll take it. You both kiss and nip and tease, all the while slowly rocking your hips into him, his hand remaining in its rightful place around your neck.

When his hand on your waist begins to roam, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your back, you begrudgingly pull your lips away from his. With his hand still on your neck, he uses his thumb to turn your head to the side and laces your neck with kisses.

“Chan,” you say softly, hating yourself for the words you’re about to say.

“Hmmm?” He hums, giving your neck a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement.

“I really don’t want to, but we should stop.”

“Kissing is allowed,” he repeats your earlier declaration.

“Yes, but…I don’t just want to kiss you,” you admit, pushing against his chest.

He lets out a sigh and places one last kiss on your neck before resting his head on your shoulder.

“Same.”

You blink. Swallow. Blink again.

He wants to do more than kiss you, too. He does miss your physical interactions. He puts up a good front, but this must be harder for him than he’s letting on. And you’re okay with that. You’ve gotten some kind of admission. You’ll lock it in a box and bury it deep. He will never get it back.

He lowers you back to the ground so you’re standing.

“19 days,” he whispers near your ear. “Until I can make you mine again.”

You clench your jaw and push back on his chest once more, creating some space between you in hopes that it will ease the throbbing between your legs. You want to tell him not to say things like, that it drives you wild. But you don’t. You like hearing him profess how much he wants you.

His phone buzzes again and you’re thankful for the interruption.

“The coast is clear,” he tells you, grabbing the cake from the shelf above you and handing it to you.

You hadn’t even heard Changbin and Rhiannon walk by the door again. Or maybe they went upstairs. Fuck…what was the plan again?

Rhiannon’s ‘surprise’ party is a success. She excitedly crosses out Seungmin’s name on the board as everyone (except Seungmin, of course) cheers at his demise. The four of you girls share a look, celebrating your successful plotting. Drinks are made, food is eaten, games are played, and by 11:30pm you’re ready to head to bed.

You shower and change into your pajamas, and by the time you make it back to Chan’s room, he’s there, taking a shower himself. You tuck yourself into your blankets to wait for him, hoping to get in a late-night chat but you’ve been up since 7:00am so you start to doze off.

You don’t know how long passes, but you jerk awake when you feel your blankets being pulled off of you.

Chan is standing directly above you clad in nothing but his boxers, one knee on the bed.

“You okay?” You ask, furrowing your brow. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of your chest at the unexpected sight of him here like this.

His eyes meet yours and you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. His gaze is soft…tender, almost. He says nothing as he hooks one hand under your shoulders and the other beneath your legs. With little effort he lifts you up and holds you to him as he carries you to his bed.

To. His. Bed.

You turn your head towards his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. Are you dreaming?

When he sets you down, you still have your eyes closed. You have to keep them this way. If you open them, you might wake up.

His footsteps retreat and you hear him flick the light switch off. He then comes back to the bed, slides in right next to you and pulls the comforter up over you both.

He doesn’t cuddle you; he doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t even say anything.

You’re not fazed by his silence or the small distance between you. This one simple action has said more than ever.

a/n: *hides*

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloud / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog /@yjeonginlvr / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @minnieprincess85 / @tiny-skidz

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luna-andra · 7 months

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Domesticated!König Headcanons ✨

Image: @Jispooks (Source)

Some HCS I thought up of for funsies, take it with a grain of salt if you disagree with any of it. And let me know what you would think differently! If this gets any love, I have a couple of more headcanon ideas to post as well, so please support my delusions of grandeur!

Part 2 is out! StepDad!Konig

Adjusting to civilian lifestyle for König proved to be challenging. Thankfully, he had you to help him along the way.

If you're not from Austria, König will compromise with spending summers in Vienna in the vacation home and live full-time with you in your home county (or wherever the hell you decide to choose. As long as he's not a convicted war criminal there.)

König tends to keep his PTSD episodes in check for the most part, except when he has a few drinks. He opts to sleep in the guest room after scaring you one night from the terrors. The years away from his past life helps them fade, but he will always carry that shit with him.

You help him job hunt. Blue-collar work was for him, the less human interaction, the better.

With that being said, König insists on DIY-ing every problem in the house. He tried figuring it out with his own basic knowledge, but became unstoppable when you introduced him to the DIY side if YouTube. Some projects had him at his wits end, and when you hear him cuss up a storm in German, you have to hold your laughter back until you're out of earshot.

The grocery bill. That's all I gotta say.

Add a couple more bills on it if you got a kid(s).

Most days, König is careful with not trekking mud in from the job site, leaving his boots in the garage/on the front porch. If it slips his mind, you know he's tired. It took a couple of scoldings to figure it out, but he does his best to make it up to you.

König had been okay with living where you wanted to, but he doubled down on living somewhere secluded, or at least outside of the city. Meaning longer drives/day trips if you wanted to shop at outlets. Totally fine, you talk his ear off during the drive to catch up on what he's missed out on during his long week of work.

Tons of nature hikes. If you weren't used to the outdoors, König would get you shaped up. He was so damn proud of you when you stopped relying on GPS and used maps/surroundings/cardinal directions, etc.

Dog or cat family, but I also see him being a reptile dad, too.

WANTS KIDS. THE MORE, THE BETTER. He wants to age and be surrounded by his kids & grandkids every holiday.

When you would go out on dates/shopping trips, there was no avoiding the double takes and stares. You man was giant, it wasn't something he could help. It would grind on his nerves when it came from grown ass adults, but he had a soft spot for children. They didn't know better, so he'd flash a friendly smile or wave so they're not afraid. Those moments would bring back the baby fever for him.

Nothing made König more happy than coming back home to the home you two have made after an adventurous day, watching you saunter happily to the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks to settle down into the plush couch next to him to watch some movies. Your choice, always. And if that baby fever was raging, he would toss you over his shoulder to settle that urge in the bedroom 😏

If this does well, I'll consider posting some other headcanons I have been thinking of! Likes & reblogs are always appreciated <3

#konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig call of duty

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inner-viper · 4 months

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Christmas with your FS

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Pile 1 Sexual Tarot Deck: 6 of Swords, 3 of Wands, 2 of Swords, and 4 of Wands

“Under the mistletoe, we kiss tonight. This marks our eternal love for each other..” “I want to keep you away from everyone, to hold you, kiss you, fuck you.. Ugh too bad we can’t escape them”

It seems like your first Christmas is at a family gathering of theirs. I feel like you both wanted to collaborate on the Christmas events from each side of the family. Either one of you could have a lot of extended family members! Anyways, this starts off as being very uncertain and not knowing where to look. It’s like you both had plans for this time around to be alone but ultimately it was not a viable option. I am getting a vision of your FS answering a call from their family, their family wants to hang around and have a cute holiday party. It seems like you will be slightly disappointed because you may have been planning a holiday getaway in secret but now you have to cancel your vacation. Regardless the chemistry between the two of you is still there! You both decided to lay off having sex. I feel like this pile has these moments in the relationship where they get infatuated with each other. It is like you both want to consume each other's souls. There is a strong sexual energy here. I am picking up that you like to tease a lot! You seem to enjoy wanting to make your FS dripping/leaking. It’s almost like you are taking out your anger on them haha. It seems like you like to transmute energy with your FS. I am sensing that you enjoy having the freedom to tease them all you want. During the Christmas holiday week, you will be touching them and edging them. It's not enough for them to cum though. They will be SO frustrated with you, they may at times snap at you during this week because they want you to satisfy them. I am getting a vision of you smiling at them and rubbing circles into their ass, really touching all their erogenous zones. You will even be taking lewd pictures to send to them while they are out. When it comes to Christmas day, you both will be riled up. You both can no longer take it anymore, you must unleash all this lust. This sex is going to have you both passing out but there will be challenges to get away from family! I am sensing that this party event is at your FS parent’s house. During the party, you both will be giving flirtatious stares, discreetly touching each other, and doing gestures that no one else understands. I am getting a vision of someone lifting up their skirt/dress and not wearing anything underneath it! You both will find ways to sneak off and share a kiss or two. I am sensing that every 30 minutes you both find somewhere hidden to be to make out. There is a lot of tongue energy here, my lips feel wet. So I am sensing that this kiss is quite erotic. I feel like this is the pile that is really into making out. You both will explore each other's tongue and mouth. You may enjoy the feeling of their tongue against yours and vice versa with your FS. Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Pile 2 Sexual Tarot Deck: 10 of Swords, Death, The Stars, and The Hierophant

“Hold my hand, take care of me while I go through this despair” “Take away my pains, I no longer wish to cry but I can’t help it”

This pile has some dark energy to their reading. I feel like there will be an event with your FS that will leave you sad, and almost depressed. I am not sure but some people that choose this pile may struggle with depression and dark thoughts. I hope that you can find some peace at times though. Anyways, there seems to be a death in the family or this is around the time that a family member has passed away and you no longer wish to grieve over it but you can’t help it when it comes to their anniversary. You seem to struggle with keeping it together, there will be moments where you want to scream and cry for help just so you don’t hold it in anymore. The collective of this pile may be people who struggle to ask for help when in need. It’s almost like you have this hyper-independence mindset. There is a vision that I am seeing of you being alone and crying alone in the dark. For some reason, you may hide what you are going through from your FS. I can sense that they will mention how you seem to have changed, and that they are always there for when you need to talk but you are trying to put this brave front. Now, the next vision that I am seeing is them catching you crying. I am seeing a vision of someone finding you outside crying to yourself, knees held against your face, and the sounds of weeping distraught. They are going to surround you with love and care at this time. They don’t want you to feel like you are alone because you aren’t. I am sensing that they were really festive and into the holiday spirit. They were excited to have spent time with you and their family. You didn’t want to ruin that for them so this is one of the reasons that you convinced yourself to hide it. You did not ruin their holiday spirit but they are upset that you didn’t talk to them sooner. During the Christmas holiday week, they will be attending to your needs. They will be around more often, taking care of house chores, bringing soup, and creating a comfortable safe space. They want you to be able to express your emotions fully. They don’t want you to bottle it up, they want to see you feel more comfortable around them. There is also this desire from them, they desire to be the one to see you vulnerable. A raw authentic version of you, a desire to see who you really are. They want to see you drop the high walls that you may have put up to keep others out. In a way, this will build a stronger relationship between the two of you. Now during Christmas day, I see that you two will be more comfortable and relaxed with each other. I feel like your FS didn’t want to spend time with their family because you were still grieving for some you both attended Christmas Day for a brief period of time. Either way, you end up at your house/apartment. I feel like this starts off very slow and passionate. It feels like this starts off with sweet compliments from them. They will be caressing you, rubbing circles into your skin, and trailing sweet kisses all over your body. They will be very gentle and ask if you want to continue because they really just want you to feel relaxed. Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Pile 3 Sexual Tarot Deck: 2 of Wands, Knave of Swords, 8 of Wands, and 4 of Swords

“Come I know you want more..” “Let’s have multiple back-to-back orgasms”

This pile is very passionate and fiery with their FS. I feel like you both are looking forward to spending the holidays alone. You both may have wanted to go on a trip by yourselves. I feel like you both spent a lot of time with family a week before so they wouldn’t feel saddened that you guys aren’t there with them. For some people who selected this pile, I feel like you may not have a good relationship with family so it is natural for you to just spend this holiday at home all cozy. Although because of that they want to bring an abundance of love to you. There is a general sense of wanting to make Christmas Day special, I feel like either one of you did not have the best holiday. Perhaps it is because either one of you did not grow up with celebrating this holiday but you or your FS could have grown up with it. It’s almost like they want to introduce you to a special occasion. You or they could put a lot of effort into making things perfect, so you’ll find it to be shocking that they are stressing over minor details. I see them asking your opinions on which country you want to be in, what activities, and what you want from each unique location that you may have selected. Your FS is wealthy, this is the pile that could have millionaire spouses. For some people, they are amazing at budgeting, so they make a good income to support both of you. Throughout the week, you both will be busy with a lot of fun spontaneous activities. I feel like there is so much teasing energy here. You could be wearing more revealing clothes, tighter fits, and showing off more of your collarbones than usual. They will be really into it, I see you both like to do some color coordination. You both are such a cute couple because I am seeing you both planning what to wear together. Whenever you both go out to dine, I feel like this is where the teasing is more prominent. You both have the correct words to say, there is a lot of dirty talk. Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Ok, so I am hearing a deep sexy masculine voice and a sweet seductive woman’s voice. Whoever you are into, they have a sweet deep voice. I feel like you may even have a voice kink because you will be squirming just from their voice alone. There may be times when you think you are seducing them and they will match your energy and do the most. It’s like you both are competitive with each other. I feel like this pile's energy enjoys switching and exchanging power dynamics. There is a sense of trying to overly dominate each other and I feel like some days on this trip you give up and vice versa. There is so much fun energy here, they may be into worshiping you. I feel like you’ll have so much because they make you feel good about yourself.

Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Thank you for reading!

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trensu · 1 year

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I keep seeing posts about mother's day and Steve Harrington, and it's all in good fun, I don't wanna ruin anyone's fun times. But also, Steve is actually a teenage boy whose parents are never around and has sort of adopted this weird little nerd boy as his little brother. This weird little nerd boy has a mom who loves him very much and supports his interests and worries about his well-being constantly. Somehow, Steve has gotten included in this and he's got this woman fussing over him, if he's eating enough, if he's dressed warmly enough for the weather and please let her know how much he needs for gas because he takes Dustin places all the time.

And then mother's day is coming up and Dustin wants to get her the perfect present but has no idea what to get her because his mom is focused on him all the time and never really mentions anything she wants or needs so he's low-key panicking when he finally gets a hold of Steve and asks him for help. So Steve and him start going to all sorts of shops trying to find something good, something worthy of Claudia Henderson.

Steve helps him buy an extravagant bouquet because moms and flowers right? Dustin finds a bowtie collar for Mews2. They find a cat themed mother's day card. They order a whole fancy carry out meal from Enzo's. He helps Dustin bake a homemade chocolate cake.

Steve puts on the finishing touches to the dining table while Dustin coaxes Mews2 into the bowtie collar. Then it's almost time for Claudia to come home from her shift look idk what she does for a living in canon but I always imagined her as a hospital nurse and hospitals don't close for holidays or weekends so Steve checks Dustin's hair one last time because Dustin wants to look nice for his mom's nice mother's day dinner. Then Steve is grabbing his keys and saying goodbye.

"Dude, where are you going?" Dustin asks, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, home? You're all set up, and your mom's home soon," Steve responds like, duh, where else would he be going right.

"Yeah, so you should clean up! I can't be the only one looking good for Mom."

Steve blinks. "Man, your mom's not gonna want me getting in the way of her day with you."

"what are you talking about? Have you MET Mom?"

And before they could continue arguing, Claudia walks through the door. She sees the dining table laid out all nice, and her furry boy in a bowtie, her little boy with his hair done, and her other bigger boy looking kind of caught out and blushing.

"oh, my boys!" She says. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Dustin actually--" Steve tries to give Dustin, her actual kid, the credit because he's not about to steal his little bud's thunder but Claudia scoops them both into her arms and peppers them with slightly damp kisses.

"you two didn't have to!" She says. "Oh, let me go get changed from these scrubs. You both sit down, I'll be just a minute. I'm so lucky to have the two sweetest boys in the world." Mews2 takes that moment to meow loudly. "sorry, THREE boys, I didn't forget you, baby."

She shuffles hurriedly to her room, leaving behind a smugly grinning Dustin and a frozen, baffled Steve.

"you heard her," Dustin says, pushing Steve towards an open chair. "We can't disappoint her on mother's day!"

And that's how Steve ended up spending mother's day in a warm home with a loving family, instead of spending the evening alone trying to get a call through to Mrs Harrington with little success.

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #stranger things #steve is an honorary henderson #trensu tells stories

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months

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He's going to be so loved (Pierre Gasly)

You're afraid your children won't have all the love they deserved

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that is about a sensetive topic that I have hopefully depicted with the respect it deserves.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy, curse words, family issues (reader has cut ties with her family)

"Y/N, chérie, how is little man treating you?", Pascale asked once you opened the door, allowing her and Charlotte, one of your sisters in law, inside the house, "he's a kicker, that's for sure! But he's been good lately, usually just needs me to tell him once and he'll stick to just move around", you giggled helping them with their coats before getting together in the kitchen, "I'm finishing my breakfast, do you want something while I finish? Some biscuits, tea, coffee? Oh, Pierre also made this cake with me yesterday, I had a big craving for it and it turned out really good!", you offered, "I'll have some tea, please. And maybe some cake too, although if Pierre made it, I might start with a small piece and see how it goes from there", Charlotte chuckled as she helped you bring the plates to the table.

The initial plan was to get a few smaller things that you still needed to get, like muslin cloths and such things, but like any other time you had shopped with company, you ended up with way too many bags filled with baby things. When you got home, Pierre had already arrived back from work, meeting you at the door and helping you carry the bags up, "Mon amour, how was your day?", he asked, kissing your lips and grabbing some bags, "it was good, my feet are a bit sore, but I really enjoyed spending time with them!", you exclaimed, reaching the nursery and putting the bags on the floor, your arms opening sp you could hug your husband, "I kept telling them that, as far as I know, there's only one baby here, but they insisted on getting all of this!", you giggled, feeling his hands rub your bump, "Our family is growing and they're very excited, it's just one of the ways they show how happy they are and their support too", he said, kissing your forehead.

To anyone, that would be a simple comment and it would brush them as quickly as it was said. But for you, it stayed playing in loop in your mind. The reminders that you did not have your family by your side came and went since you decided to keep away from them, especially when it came to big dates or important moments, but recently it had been a constant thought.

Cutting ties with your family had been the best decision, there isn't a day that you regret what you did. Having said that, it was still something you wished you could have in different circumstances. To have your mother share her experiences, to show you things from when you were little, to have your father teaching you and setting you set up the nursery and tell you all about your family's customs through the years.

Pierre's family had been incredible like always. They knew just enough about what happened with your family and not only respected it but also supported you in any way they could, taking you under their wing like you were one of their own from the beggining. The pregnancy had been received with massive excitement from everyone, and they kept calling whenever they had the chance, wanting to know how you were and if there was anything they could do to help you and Pierre in this journey. But lately, it had been a bit of a handful dealing with your thoughts.

"Can you grab the bag, please?", Pierre asked once he parked the car, checking something on the car before exiting it and lacing your hands once he got out, locking it and heading to the front door of Charles' place.

They had invited you over for baby Hervé's shower, welcoming you inside while you looked around, "we have a specific chair for you so you can be comfy", Charles said as he pointed to his wife, "she ordered me to do it", he chuckled, "hey! You don't know what it is to carry a baby around! It's hard work, and we both need to rest!", she reasoned with her husband, hugging you the best way you could before she introduced you to the people you didn't know. While they had a lot of friends and family you already knew, Charles' in laws were there too and you hadn't yet met some of them. They congratulated you, easily chatting up about everything and anything while you ate the snacks and drinks being passed around.

Pierre felt his body get a little bit lighter. It wasn't like your demeanor had changed that much in comparison to the last few days, but you certainly looked comfortable and like you were enjoying yourself.

"There's something on your mind, and I have time while they decorate biscuits. So, spill it", Charles noted, sitting next to Pierre on one of the high stools, sipping from his drink while he looked at his bestfriend. "Does Y/N seem off to you? Or has she seemed off to you recently?", he wondered looking at his wife admiring her work of art in the blue powdered sugar icing.

"I mean, she's lost some of her energy, but that's normal at this stage. You can't expect that she is running around now", Charles reasoned, not understanding where he was going, "it's just, I think she's been a little crestfallen, quieter than usual lately, and she hasn't said anything to me in that regard, she's been very quiet. I've tried to get her to talk, but she never says much", Pierre slumped his shoulders, "you just have to take it day by day. It's a lot these days, I'm sure you feel it, too. And they feel it even more. Family and friends are a great help, but there are some things they have to deal with on their own and it's hard to juggle all of it. She'll come to you whenever she feels ready, trust me", Charles patted his back.

You put all the baby clothes you had washed and dried in the hamper, supporting it comfortably on your side as you walked up to the nursery. The room was coming along well, the crib was already finished, just needing to be done with the softest sheets your skin has ever felt, and the rest of the furniture had been assembled whenever you and Pierre found the time to do it. Setting the clothes on top of the dresser, you opened the respective drawers to allocate every piece, taking the time and effort of remembering who had gifted them to your baby boy. Charles and his wife got matching sets so that both of the boys could look alike, Pascale had gotten way too many pieces for you to keep track on, claiming she was so excited to be a grandma again that she couldn't help herself anytime she saw something cute and had to get it.

Without noticing, tears started falling from your eyes and into the small pieces of clothing, marking them and creating a strain on your breath. Breathing in this late stage of pregnancy was already difficult, and sobbing wasn't helping it. You carefully walked to the chair you had put in the room so you'd have somewhere to sit during the night, proving its usefulness now as you tried to manage your emotions.

Pierre came out of the bathroom after his shower, already dressed and towell in hand so he could take it to the laundry room when he heard movement in the nursery. He didn't expect to see you like how he found you, cheeks red and tear stained and a trembling lip while you looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, amour, what's the matter? Are you in pain?", he walked, throwing the towell on the corridor and kneeling in front of you, holding your hand in his while the other brushed the hairs out of your eyes. "I'm not in pain, I'm okay", you gulped, "but I haven't been feeling good. And I've wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want to bother you, even though you always say I could never bother you, but I'm telling you now, I guess", you blurted, receiving an encouragement nod from your husband.

Sighing, you played with his fingers, "lately, it dawned on me that my family isn't around for this, for me or for baby Alexandre, for us", you began, "and seeing Charles and his wife and everyone for there for Hervé, it got me thinking even more like, everyone was there to see them! To see the mother to be, to support her and congratulate her. And I'm not saying this in a bad way, because I'm so happy that they have it. And I know we have that from your family, I'm not complaining about them either. Everyone has been lovely, but fuck, I won't have my family supporting me. I won't have my father checking up on his little girl after she gave birth or have my mother share her experiences because the thought of having to be in the same room as them chills my bones. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt still, because it does", you cried, the attempt of looking up to stop the tears from flowing failing as Pierre carefully wiped them.

"How long have you been feeling like this, mon ange?", Pierre asked, now holding your face in his hands, "a little while, and the shower just made it a bit stronger, I think. Fuck, I sound like an awful person, I'm sorry", you apologised, "hey, no need for that. It's okay to feel like this, you don't have to feel guilty about your feelings", your husband reasoned.

"It is the best decision to keep away from them, I wouldn't change it for the world. But it will only be me passing down our traditions, and letting him know how things used to be, our language, our customs", you sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "because I don't want him to not know. It is a part of me that I'm proud of and I'm not letting my parents take that from me too", you breathed out. Rubbing your hands, your husband looked for your eyes, "and we will make sure he knows. Him and his siblings if we are fortunate along the way. I know a few words myself, and I'll help with all the traditions. I'll make your recipes, even if they don't taste as good, I'll teach them about all the holidays you celebrate and that we will celebrate too and I'll support you in anything you decide to do, I promise", he stated, smiling in hope you'd mirror his, the corners of your lips lifting a little.

"I know they're your family, but I'm sure that our little one is going to be so so so loved, he's going to be doted on by everyone", Pierre pointed out, "and we will make sure we do everything we can for that. And you are going to tell me everytime things get too much, okay? I hate to see you like this", he asked, earning a nod from you, "now, how about we sort these clothes so we can finally decide on the outfit he's wearing for when he comes home?", your husband teased you, "your brother gave us this little set he found and I think that's the one, let me show you it", you said, getting up and waddling to the pile of clothes, happily showing you the choice and smiling as you watched your husband's excitement about it all. Your little boy was going to be so loved, and it didn't have to be from a blood relationship.

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly × reader #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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superblysublimecreation · 10 months

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Hey y'all! Long time, no post.

A few days ago now, I got into a car crash 5 hours from home in Gary, IN while trying to help a friend move from home. We hit a pole going 30mph, airbags went off, and my car is totaled. We're really lucky the damage wasn't worse as the pole cracked all the way up and had a chance at falling on us.

Due to having to pay for an emergency hotel room, releasing my car from police custody, and having to pay my car insurance deductible, I'm officially broke.

We all need to get checked out still as two of us have some chest pain around our sternum and heavy bruising. I've also still got bills to pay as well. I don't like asking for help, but I could really use it now.

I've added my ko-fi below. I've got comms open which I've not taken before so please be patient with me on that. I've also got a small selection of stickers in my shop available. Every bit helps, even just sharing around.

Sorry to inconvienence anyone, I already feel bad enough getting family into a crash and losing my car.

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bekkathyst · 6 months

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BEKKATHYST Autumn 2023 Giveaway!

~This giveaway is in no way affiliated with Tumblr.~

Please read thoroughly before entering!

Hello lovely Tumblr folk! It’s that time again- I have a giveaway for you all. 💜

We have an online store that could use your support!

You can also find us on Instagram.

About us: My business is a small, family-run establishment that I started here on Tumblr in 2013. I’ve been lucky enough to grow to the point where this supports me, my partner, and our daughter. In the US we also had a brick-and-mortar shop in which I employed my mom and a few of my siblings. However, we closed it to be able to move to Austria, my home country! 💜 I strive to put compassion and ethics above all else in my business, and I hope that shines through. We have a website but also run many fun sales directly here on Tumblr!

This giveaway will have two winners.

What the first winner receives:

All the pictured crystals, plus a $100 gift card that can be used for our online store or our Tumblr sales. Pictured crystals: rose quartz freeform, nellite sphere with stand, kambaba jasper sphere with stand, purple labradorite freeform, silver moonstone freeform, polished chevron amethyst, thullite sphere, lizardite sphere, Mongolian black quartz crystal, amethyst rainbow amethyst druzy cut base, blue labradorite pebble, and a polished amethyst point. I wanted to pick some more unique stones for this giveaway!

What the second winner receives:

A $50 gift card that can be used for our online store or Tumblr sales!

Rules:

You must be 16 or older. (If under 18 you MUST have parent’s permission)

You can be from anywhere in the world! I am shipping from Austria.

Shipping is entirely free, I will cover it. But if you live in a country that charges import tax on gifts, you are responsible for it. If it gets sent back to me, you will need to pay shipping to have it sent again.

You must be following me, so you can get updates if anything about the giveaway changes.

Please check out our online shop!

Reblog this post to enter. Likes count as additional entries. No giveaway or spam blogs. If you reblog on a side blog, let me know in the tags what the name of your blog is that you’re following me with.

At the end, each entry will be assigned a number and the winner will be chosen by a random number generator.

The giveaway ends on December 20th, 2023.

The winners will be messaged and must respond with their full name and address within 24 hours, or a new winner will be chosen.

Please respect me and my rules, and have fun!

#item #original #autumn 2023

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megamindsecretlair · 22 days

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Foolish

*Heed warnings*

Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.

Word Count: 3,494k

A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings

You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?

You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.

One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him.

You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go.

The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas.

You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk.

Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.

Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.

You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun. Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed.

You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly.

Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said.

You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy.

“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang.

Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said.

You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment.

You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident.

You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins.

It made you sick.

You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his.

You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.

It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts.

The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked.

Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit.

You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant.

Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free.

By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep.

You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car.

Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it.

You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…

You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.

You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building.

As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew.

He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck.

You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages.

“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear.

She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough.

“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.

“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more.

“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said.

You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled.

“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga.

You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot.

“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you.

“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart.

“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.

“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said.

“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands.

“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.

You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.

The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.

His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something.

You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word.

You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.

“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.

You looked him in the eye. “No.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch.

The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him.

You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.

He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.

“Baby–”

Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you.

He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out.

He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night.

Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.

“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.

The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in.

You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him.

You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running.

You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said.

“You promised,” you whined.

His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night.

Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination.

He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain.

He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen.

Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too.

His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.

“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.

“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time.

Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate.

“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm.

Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said.

“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts.

“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls.

Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy.

He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.

He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.

“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin.

You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.

The end.

There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files

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hina-hina · 1 year

Note

Hey could you please write Alejandro and his pregnant wife . Just how he'd go about everyday taking care of her and stuff ! Thank you :)

Hello friend! This is so cute, so much fluff potentially!! Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy!! ♪(^∇^*)

Wow, we just hit 900 followers!!! Thank you guys so much, I am so thankful for all of you!!

→ COD Masterlist

|| Alejandro with a Pregnant Wife ||

Tags: Pregnant!Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic, Short, some angst, family fluff

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of labor

Female!Reader // Romantic

This man would be thrilled when you tell him that your pregnant

While part of him is still worried about the child due to the state of your home, he has always wanted to start a family

He is very protective and it only kicks up tenfold when you reveal that your pregnant

He insists on doing things for you, such as making you food or doing chores for you

He straight up refuses to let you do heavy work like lifting things, will get actually annoyed if he sees you try

He is obsessed with your baby bump

When you start showing, he loves when you wear tight fitting clothing that shows it off

Constantly wants to place his hands on it or kiss it

Is always down to support you, even if it means getting up late at night in order to go get you something you crave

He would probably want more than one kid

He would give a picture of the ultrasound to Rudy

Actually loves baby shopping with you

He is constantly trying to find hacks that can help you feel better

He is a problem solver at heart, so he tries to help ease your sickness and pains the best he can

Is always ready to give you a message, rub your back, or make you whatever you can stomach at the time

Is very surprised at how emotional you get during pregnancy and stumbles a bit when comforting you during these hormonal spells

I imagine you would often get emotional whenever he has to go on missions, worried that he would die/get hurt and leave you and your child behind

He is at a loss for how to comfort you when you get worked up about this, often he resorts to just holding you until you get it out of your system

When you come back to your sense you assure him that you know his work is important

He still feels very guilty though, knowing that you still have this fear

He makes Rudy swear to look after the two of you if he does pass away on a mission

Doesn't like leaving you alone, especially in the later stages of your pregnancy

Makes sure he has someone, a friend or family member, to stay with you or check up on you while he is gone

He doesn't panic when you go into labor, somehow being able to keep himself calm during the ordeal so that he doesn't freak you out

He will insist on being in the labor room with you no matter what, this man is not squeamish in the slightest

Is absolutely taking with his child the moment he sees them,

Immediately starts giving you kisses, petting your hair, telling you how proud he is

Him holding and singing to your child in Spanish ಥ_ಥ

Takes a leave so that he can take care of you two and spend time with his family

Starts looking forward to making Las Alamas a better place for his child and so he can retire and spend more time with his family

Wants more kids and lets this be known but won't want you to get pregnant immediately after giving birth

Insists on you sleeping and his taking care of the newborn because he knows your tired

Feels bad whenever he has to go back to work but tries to avoid long missions as much as he can while the kid is young

Loves showing off his kids to his men and Rudy

Rudy becomes the kids uncle and godfather

I think he would want at least 2 kids, but he wouldn't care about gender at all

Overall he would just be such a good dad (o′┏▽┓｀o)

Thanks for reading!

⇣Taglist⇣ @scarlettproof @unabashednightmarepizza @kk00789 @cl0udii-m00n @polar2oidsworld @meepsters-world @uwu-i-purple-you @punziesworld @heaven-angels-world

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Note

What is reader was pregnant at the end of summer nights? Love your writer. I wake up and check your blog every day for new chapters 🩵🩵🩵

Consequence

Warnings: unwanted pregnancy, threats, intimidation, allusions to rape, unedited.

Please provide thoughts and feedback! I had fun doing this and hope to do some more in response to your guys’ asks! Thank you for all your support. 💜

Your shift at the hardware store couldn’t end soon enough. You hike your purse onto your shoulder as you walk out the automatic doors, your stomach rotting and knotted. You’ve felt sick all morning. Your coffee burned like acid going down and you only finished half the stale bagel you found in your mother’s kitchen.

Sleep’s been just as difficult. You can’t seem to get comfortable. Your anxiety keeps you up and a sense of restlessness underlined with dread. The thoughts you keep running from will catch up with you one day.

You pass the pharmacy, glancing through the window at the big poster advertising compression socks. You stop at the other end of the facade and hesitate. You sidle back and stare at another display, pink and white and worrying.

You laugh at yourself. No. You’re just paranoid.

Still, you make yourself go inside. You wander the aisles until you find what you’re looking for. You look up and down the row self-consciously then bag to the shelf. Does it matter which one you get? This one says early detection. And it’s fucking expensive. Does it really have to cost so much to be sure?

Fuck it. For your peace of mind. You may actually get a full night’s sleep if you put this behind you once and for all.

You go to the counter and refuse to look directly at the cashier. You pay, more than you want to, you leave with the test in a paper bag. As you walk down the street, a car door opens behind you. The driver feeds the meter as you distract yourself with the shop windows.

Before you can turn down the path, you hear your name and hand tugs you back. You spin in horror at the voice you never wanted to hear again. You try to wrench away from Andy as he looks at you, a furrow between his brows as he clings to you in desperation.

“Hey,” he says, “can we talk?”

“Get off– what are you– how–” you sputter in confusion.

He lets you go and raises his hand defensively.

“I don’t like how things ended–”

“Don’t like– I didn’t like any of it. Get away from me.”

He flinches and exhales heavily, “you’ve been ignoring my calls. Just hear me out–”

“No,” you spin and stomp away, “there’s nothing to hear.”

He follows you and you speed up, trying to evade him as you hurry down the path. He snags your wrist and the force of it causes the bag to slip from your grasp. It hits the pavement and the contents spill out, the box rolling out from under the receipt.

Andy’s hand stays firm on your arm as you both look down. You feel his grip slacken and you rip away from him. You quickly bend to scramble up your stuff. As you stand he lets out a shudder.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks.

You cringe and swallow, “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” he seems startled, “well… if you are–”

“If I am,” you insist, “it’s none of your business.”

“It is exactly my business,” he retorts.

“Fuck off,” you snarl. “Go home. You already have a child, you don’t need another.”

You evade him as he reaches for you once again. He doesn’t persist as a family comes down the other side of the path with a stroller. Fuck, what a wonderful foreboding coincidence. You pump your arms and furiously march away.

Of all days for him to show up…

How long has he been planning this? Has he been watching you? Those questions rattle in your mind but are quickly muted by the biggest one of all. The one in your hand. Did you really fuck up that bad?

💜

You stare at the two lines. Your heart drops. No. No. God! He already fucked you up so bad, why this? Why? Fuck!

You shove the test off the counter and into the bin. You pace back and forth in a panic, head swelling as the world pulses around you. You can’t do this. You already have your mind made up. You can’t keep it. You refuse to. You don’t want any part of him around you.

“Hey, where are ya?” Your mother hollers up the stairs.

“Mom, I’m busy,” you shout back.

“Not too busy to get your ass down here. Now!”

Shit. You know that tone. You fucked up something. You roll your eyes and rip open the bathroom door. You barrel downstairs and stop as your mother stands smoking by the front door. A large figure fills the frame. Does he not give up?

“I always knew you were up to no good,” your mother accuses.

“What?” You snip, “mom, tell him to go away–”

“No wonder you’ve been shorting me on rent,” she spits back, “you ain’t showing up for work.”

“What are you talking about? You just ask Bert–” You snarl and swallow your anger, directing it instead at your unwelcome visitor, “Andy, go away.”

“Don’t you talk to him like that. You’re not quittin’ this one, honey,” your mother taps ash onto the carpet, “the man’s being nice so you go out and figure this all out. You’re not living in my house if you’re not working–”

“Mom, he’s not–”

“Deal with it,” she crushes the cigarette in the overflowing tray beside the door and stomps off.

You shake your head, “Andy, just go.”

“Please, come outside.”

“No.”

“Do you really want to have this conversation in here?” He challenges.

You roll your eyes and wave him out. He retreats and you follow him, quickly pulling the door shut. You’re already pissed at him.

“What the hell? You told my mom you’re what? My boss? I already have to deal with enough–”

“Well, what could I say? I figured the truth wouldn’t exactly be great.”

“Which truth? The one where you raped me–”

“Sweetie, no, I didn’t–”

“Enough. I’m not telling you again. Go away and leave me alone. I never wanted this. I never wanted you or a baby or–”

“Baby? You took the test?” He asks wispily.

You close your eyes and drop your head back. You hate him. You hate this. You hate everything about your life.

“I’m not keeping it, alright?”

“You’re not– that’s not your choice–”

“It is. You don’t get to take this one from me.”

“It’s mine. My child.”

“Oh, fuck off, look at Jacob. You really another one?”

“Yeah, actually, I’d like to do it right. Sweetie, I can take care of you and the baby. I will. You can get away from here,” he glances over at the stained siding of your mother’s pigsty, “you don’t have to live like this.”

“And you think I want to live with you?” You bark.

“Do you have any other option? Really?”

“Yeah, I do. I’d rather rot in filth.”

His jaw grits and his veneer falls. He puts his hands on his hips.

“We’ll see about that,” he snarls. “I am the father, I get a say.”

“You’re a monster,” you sneer.

He glares at you. He lets out a breath and tilts his head until his neck cracks.

“Only if that’s what you make me be,” he flicks his fingers at you dismissively, “and you have no idea what sort of prick I can really be.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #what if #summer nights #defending jacob

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softlyspector · 1 year

Text

Mothers

Summary: A year after his mother’s death, Marc travels back to Chicago to face his father. He doesn’t expect it to be easy but he also doesn’t expect it to be so hard. He especially doesn’t expect to find refuge from the hard moments in a little known witch’s shop a few blocks over. And definitely not in one keeping watch over the family’s piano.

This chapter: Marc is trying. Really, he is. But mothers are never an easy topic. Or, Marc attempts several difficult conversations.

Tales Untold; Part V - Series Masterlist

Pairing: eventual Marc Spector x Reader (eventual minor Steven Grant x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings (this chapter): angst, fluff, Marc Spector's terrible, oblivious flirting, lots of ✨touching✨, known menace Jake Lockley, mental health issues, feelings of guilt, tense relationship with a parent, mentions of past death, mentions of past child abuse

A/N: Hello! Here is the chapter a day early as promised! This part was originally 3k, oops.

I'm still unsure if anyone actually reads the author's notes, but I want to say thank you again. This chapter contains the scene that inspired the series! Memories and relationships are so complicated, especially when your perspective has to shift and you have competing views, and when other things like grief come into play it only makes things more complicated. This chapter tries to tackle that. I'm sure many of you can probably tell, I have issues with my own mother (mine is not like the reader's, or Marc's), and I just want to say thank you for letting me write something so cathartic. Moon Knight in general is really special to me but that facet in particular really hit home and made me question things about myself and my own childhood. I hope it resonates with you all as well and that I've done the topic justice.

Again, I want to give a big thank you to all of you who have been keeping up with this series. I love you so much, and thank you for all the continued love and support. It means everything to me. Comments and feedback are so appreciated! Please let me know if any additional warnings need to be added. For full series warnings, please check the series masterlist, which will be updated as parts are posted!

Tales Untold, Chicago 7:48 PM

Marc sighs loudly through his nose.

“Stop being a pussy about it.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jake.”

Jake promptly flips him off where he’s reflected in the shop’s front windows. Marc just huffs out another breath, irritated, and tunes out his muttering alter. He grips the cold steel rung of the ladder he’s standing on, both for support and to ground himself.

He misses Steven at that moment, because Steven would leave him alone about the date.

Probably.

“...said date -,” Jake continues. “Steven would agree with me. We definitely heard date.”

Or, maybe not.

Steven would probably harass him about it just as much.

“I also heard date, mate,” Steven chimes in agreement suddenly. “Definitely said date.”

Marc rolls his eyes.

So, he wouldn’t then. He would not leave Marc alone about it.

Marc grits his teeth and ignores both of them, reaching a hand out to finger one edge of the curling burnt orange wallpaper.

It’s true. You had said the word date to be sure.

It’s a date, is precisely what you’d said.

But people said that shit all the time. It was just an expression.

You hadn’t meant anything by it.

You couldn’t have.

It was just an expression.

It’s just something people say.

“Fuck off,” he snaps at both of them, when they continue muttering, trying and failing to refocus on the peeling wallpaper in front of him. “You’re distracting me.”

Jake snorts and Steven shushes him.

That little outpouring of emotion had been nearly a week ago, and Marc tries not to regret it. He tries not to let the shame that curls around his shoulders, that grows like a slow moving vine around his lungs and heart, strangle him.

But his heart beats like a caged bird whenever he thinks about it, like it would snap his ribs just to be free from his body. The nervous flutter of his pulse serves to remind him that he’s said too much to you.

That you did not deserve that kind of weight on your shoulders.

“I’ll just go on the fuckin’ date then.”

“You -,” he snarls, rounding on the glass, the ladder wobbling precariously, “- will not.”

Jake just smirks and crosses his arms, like he’s proud of himself for being able to get a reaction out of Marc.

Marc rolls his eyes again, so hard this time it hurts a little.

He’s still getting used to Jake, still trying to come to terms with having him around, especially when Jake seemed content to antagonize him most of the time.

It’s playful, really. Like the annoyance of a sibling that was intent on getting a rise out of him.

Even with Jake’s teasing, he’d much rather be here on the ladder staring at your wallpaper than upstairs.

He feels guilty, for leaving you alone with his father. But agreeing to have him over at your place for dinner at all had been more than enough of a challenge on its own.

It had been hard. To walk his father over to Tales Untold, his safe place, and meet you at the door. It had been hard to watch you smile and tilt your head, and lead them up the stairs. It had been hard to watch you turn your attention onto someone else.

They’d sat around your kitchen island, and you and Elias had done most of the talking while Marc sat silent and tense, not sure how to join a familial, familiar conversation.

You had set a beautiful spread, with candles and your good silverware and crystal, and a tablecloth laid haphazardly across the counter because it wasn’t the right size.

Although Marc hadn’t spoken for most of the meal, he had watched you, and followed the careful way you made your way through the conversation, the way your hands moved when you got excited about something.

He’d even learned things about you - like that you hadn’t finished college and were a server before you moved back to Chicago.

It hadn’t been as awkward or painful as he’d expected it to be. But he feels a large part of that is due to the fact that you were there. He was in your space, your domain, and by extension maybe his own. You’re safe there, and so is he.

He doesn’t like to think about what that means, that he’s become attached not only to you, but to your place. That he’s starting to feel at home there.

Home.

He’s starting to feel at home with you.

His father hadn’t commented on the piano, and Marc still isn’t sure how to feel about it. But when the plates were cleared away and you offered dessert, Marc hadn’t been able to sit still any longer. A strangely nervous energy had sizzled in his veins, washing away any sense of security he usually felt around you.

Family dinners weren’t exactly pleasant experiences for him, and it had been a long time since he was forced into that kind of box, especially with his father.

He shouldn’t have left you alone, but he thinks you probably understand. He’d helped you clear the dishes, before he leaned in next to you at the sink and said, “I’ll wash ‘em later for you. No, listen, please leave ‘em there. I need to go work on the wallpaper downstairs.”

He hadn’t needed to do anything. The wallpaper is your project and certainly not a pressing one.

Your mouth had still been parted, where you’d started to protest his insistence with the dishes, and it had been a struggle to maintain eye contact when all he wanted to do was stare at your mouth. “Okay,” you’d pressed your hand against his forearm, warmth jolting up his arm. You’d slid your thumb along his skin and nodded, “Okay. Go ahead.”

And, despite everything, you and his dad seem to get along fine. You found easy conversation with most people and his dad was no different.

The day before the dinner had been more stressful to you than anything else. You’d fretted over what to make for dinner, and Marc had helped you grocery shop and cook. “My dad keeps kosher,” he’d said while you pushed a shopping cart down an aisle, nervously chattering about what you could make.

You had paused, head tilting to the side. “He does?”

“He’s a rabbi.”

“Oh,” you’d continued pushing the cart before you turned to him with wide eyes. “Oh, my god. Marc, you’ve eaten at my place so many times…It wasn’t - I mean I don’t know if it was kosher -,”

He’d pressed a hand to the small of your back, urging you along, trying and failing to hide a smile. “I don’t keep kosher. My dad does. It’s okay, it would have been on me to tell you if I did.”

You still looked nervous despite his reassurance, anxiously consulting the list of ingredients on your phone as you chewed on your lower lip. “Look, a kinda shortcut is to make something vegetarian. It’s usually kosher that way. And I’ll make sure everything in your kitchen is kosher.”

“Oh! I’m vegetarian.”

Oh, Steven would love that.

“Great,” he had reassured you. “Then we don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure it’s all fine.”

And he had. And it was. And he’d liked cooking with you, even though it didn’t seem to be something you did all that often.

Marc likes all the little mundane things you do together. Home improvement and grocery shopping and going to the hardware store and cooking.

He shakes the memory away and looks at the wallpaper again, orange and patterned with gold leaf. It’s curling off the walls, peeling down in strips in other places where you’d torn at it with your hands.

You’ve yet to paint your flower boxes, and Marc still hasn’t built you a new sign or finished repointing the brickwork. The fucking bell is still rusted where it hangs above your door.

Only one of the warped glass panels in the wooden front door has been replaced so far. A single pane of colorless glass replaced by a red and yellow image of a bird that you and Steven had made together one evening.

Despite all of those uncompleted projects, he’d caught you on a ladder earlier in the day ripping down strips of wallpaper when there had been a lull in customers. You’d had an odd expression on your face as you did so, one Marc couldn’t read.

Marc stares at the peeling paper, and what lay beneath. He wishes you would have said something before ripping it down. He probably could have salvaged it. The design is pretty.

“Marc!” You call. “C’mere, honey.”

He gut lurches with that pleasant little nickname you’ve gifted him. It feels unfair, like something he should get to call you, not the other way around. You’d first called him that in the hardware store, your hand curled around his bicep when you saved him from the sales person.

“Honey,” Jake coos at him. “Aw.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles before calling out to you, “Comin’!”

Jake cackles, and Marc knows he thinks he’s slick, but it's hard not to notice how much Jake has been showing up lately compared to before.

Jake likes you too, and he’s really only half joking about being the one to take you on a date.

He steps down the ladder to weave through the shelves to the back of the shop.

You’re just stepping down the last few steps of the back staircase, his father in tow behind you.

Before he can reach you, you’ve turned to his father and taken his hands in yours. “Thank you for coming over, Elias. I hope my cooking wasn’t too bad.”

“It was delicious. Thank you…for everything.” Elias’s eyes cut to where Marc stands before flicking back to you, an unreadable look passes between the two of you and he’s left to wonder what Elias means by that, what the two of you talked about.

Marc’s hands curl into uncomfortable fists at his sides, but he makes an effort to smile.

By the snort you try to choke back he doesn’t do a very good job. “You’re very welcome,” you say to his father. “Marc will walk you home.”

Elias blinks over at him again. “You won’t be coming with us?”

“I’m afraid not,” you say apologetically. “I have a lot to do around here. You see how Marc has been terrorizing my wallpaper.”

Marc shifts his gaze to you, glaring. “Right, it’s me terrorizing the wallpaper.”

To Marc’s surprise, his father laughs. “Okay, maybe another time then. For tea or coffee, whatever you prefer.”

You nod, though Marc knows you have no intention of ever accepting an invitation. Not without him, at least.

The thought warms him, just a little, that you wouldn’t even walk over to the house with them, not if Marc didn’t want you to.

He ushers his father ahead of him through the crowded aisles.

But before he can follow, you reach out and cup one hand under his arm, your fingers hooking in the crease of his elbow. “Are you coming back?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you smile, rub your thumb against the delicate ridge of bone in his arm. “Tonight went well.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

It did.

Even if he’d had to escape a little early.

You laugh again, though he can’t fathom why. “Okay. I’ll be waiting for you.” Your thumb traces over his skin again, before you release him and turn away.

Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago 8:15 PM

His father is talking about you, moving around the living room slowly, gathering up a book and his reading glasses.

Elias likes you a lot.

Since Marc’s breakdown, since he finally explained to his father how hard it is to be at home, things have been less strained between them. A certain tension still lingers in the air, but not as thick as it had. It’s possible to breathe now, possible to stand still.

His father seems to understand why it's hard for Marc to be in the house, why it's hard for him to be around Elias himself. And Marc supposes it's a good enough start.

Nothing between them is fixed and Marc isn’t sure it ever can be. He doesn’t know if he wants to try, if he wants to reconcile.

Is there anything to reconcile?

It’s the one question he consistently comes back to. He doesn’t know if what had been fractured between them can ever be fixed again, or overlooked.

“Are you heading back over to Tales Untold?” Elias asks as he settles in an armchair, his book on his knees.

“Yeah.”

Marc considers leaving then, just turning around and walking out the door without another word. But speaking with his father has become easier in the last week, like Marc broke the protective seal of cordiality that made both of them quiet.

He can do this. He can ask.

Elias looks surprised when Marc sits down in the opposite armchair and adjusts himself uncomfortably. “We gotta talk about the piano.”

His father slips his glasses on and then peers at Marc over the rim. “Okay, Marc.”

“We gotta talk about everything.” He swallows, remembering the way he’d broken the week before, dashed his heart on the rocks of the house.

For you. Because he was protective and worried about you.

But he doesn’t know if he can do all of that in one day. To ask about the alcoholism and the abuse and why his mother had hated him so much and why his father let her hate him.

“Not right now, though.” You’re waiting for him to come back, and he says as much.

His dad smiles at that, the twist of his mouth soft, and Marc can’t understand why it would garner that reaction. Marc doesn’t comment on it, decides he doesn’t want to know. “Why,” he starts, mouth dry suddenly, his tongue like sandpaper. “Why did you donate the piano?”

Elias’s shoulders relax, the tension bleeding out of them. “I know you think the worst of me, Marc. And I can’t really blame you. The two of us…we’re not good at talking. We never have been.”

Marc nods and waits, because it’s not an answer to his question.

The muscle along Marc’s spine pulls tight while he waits for an answer, like he’s on marionette strings about to be cut.

“Your mother never played the piano after Randall died, and neither did you. When you left, I still had hope that you’d come home. But when she died, that left me. Neither of you were ever going to play it again.” He glances away, “It reminded me too much of you. It was painful to look at.”

Marc goes still, trying to piece together what his father had just said.

Reminded him of Marc. Given away because it hurt, not because he was being erased, not because it reminded him of Wendy. It reminded him of Marc.

“I have to get back to Tales Untold,” Marc says abruptly, standing up sharply.

Elias nods, “You should just stay there. You’d probably sleep better.”

The suggestion catches Marc off guard. “I can’t just -,”

His father shrugs. “You could ask.” Before he cracks open the novel, he says, “We talked about Shabbat. You should both come to a service one Saturday. Together.”

“I…you did?”

“Yes,” he shrugs. “Seemed interested.”

He’s not sure why he says it, he should just turn and leave. “We had to go shopping for ingredients,” Marc says.

And then, before he can convince himself not to say anything more, tells his father about how you’d been nervous about cooking for him, and about the kosher incident at the grocery store.

Elias smiles and then laughs. “I think you’ve found a really good person.”

The words well up inside him, the urge to tell his father he doesn’t know what a good person is, not really. But the words die in his mouth, because it feels like an insult to you.

Because his father is right about that, at least.

You’re an inordinately good person.

“Goodnight, dad.”

His father doesn’t look up from his book, “Goodnight, son.”

Tales Untold, Chicago 8:58 PM

By the time he makes it back to Tales Untold, you’ve managed to rip down the wallpaper on an entire exposed wall.

“Well,” you plant your fist on your hip and examine the yellowed wall beneath, your other hand still tailing a strip of paper. “I suppose I’ll have to clean the wall.”

“Then what?” He leans back against one of the shelves, crossing his arms over his chest.

You purse your lips, humming under your breath. “Maybe I’ll paint a mural.”

“Oh yeah?” He watches your mouth twist, the flick of your eyes over the blank wall, like you’re seeing more than the empty space. “Why’d you want the wallpaper down anyways? We coulda fixed it back up.”

“Reminds me of my mom,” you say, suddenly bending down to gather up the paper left on the floor, bunching it up between your palms. “I mean,” your mouth twists to the side a little as you consider the wall. “This is all her. Not me.”

A sense of vertigo sweeps through Marc, because he associates everything here with you. “It is?”

You hum in confirmation but don’t look at him, your eyes firmly glued to the paper in your hands. “Upstairs. That’s my stuff. But everything else. The shop and everything out front was hers.”

And Marc becomes very suddenly aware of the fact that he’s never asked you. He knows nothing about your past, not really. In his mind, you’ve just always been there, standing in the sunlight at the back of the shop.

He almost bites down the question. But he’s already tried his hand at one hard conversation, maybe he could do it again.

“What…uh, what happened?”

You turn and smile at him. “You don’t have to ask,” you say before walking away.

Marc frowns after you before following. “Yeah well, I wanted to.”

You stuff the long ribbons of ruined wallpaper into the bin behind the counter, leaning into the wood with your head propped on your fist. “I lived with my dad out of state. Chicago isn’t really my home, but I spent every summer here with my mom. I think she - I think she was like me. I think she felt things from the stuff people donated.”

Marc leans opposite you, leaving one hand open and extended toward you. He hopes it's not too obvious, that he’s hoping you’ll reach out and fold your fingers between his.

He feels a spike of jealousy sometimes, for how easily Steven touched you and how easily you accepted his touch. He doesn’t know for sure if it’ll be the same with him as it is with Steven.

You don’t immediately take his hand, but that’s okay.

Jake is reflected in a nearby case, gesturing at you. “Just do it.”

He ignores him, giving the tiniest shake of his head.

“Maybe that’s why you thought you knew me,” you say, mouth quirking in a smile. “Maybe we saw each other in the summer around the neighborhood.”

He nods, “Yeah, maybe. You think this thing is hereditary?”

“Maybe. We never talked about it so maybe she was just intuitive.” You shrug and then reach to take his hand as Jake calls him a coward for waiting. “Anyways, she passed away last year.” You squeeze his hand, “It was right around the time your dad donated the piano.”

You slide your fingers over his wrist, and Jake has gone quiet in the reflection of the case, carefully watching you. “I was meant to clean this place out. Sell it. I’d already gone through most of her things in the apartment and I was just starting on the shop when your dad came by. Something about it…I dunno, I felt like I should stay. Not like I had a career anyways. I never finished college and this place was paid off a long time ago so,” you shrug. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed the rest of the street got gentrified. I wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise.”

You’re rambling a little, your words nervous in a way they’re usually not.

You look up and meet his eyes. “It gave me peace. I kept it for you as much as I kept it for me. I should have told you that before.”

He remembers the way you’d went still when you realized what piano he’d been looking for the first day he stumbled into the shop, the guarded, watchful cut of your gaze before he explained who he was.

Marc watches you for a long time, trying and failing to grip at the emotions twisting and roiling inside him. He’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling.

Both your mothers’ deaths had brought you together. His father had. The piano had.

Without any of that, he would have never had cause to come over to Tales Untold. He would have never had cause to meet you at all.

“I just left everything alone after that. Well, I moved my things in and repainted upstairs. But now, thanks to you and your criticisms of my storefront,” you smile and roll your eyes, “I decided I should make it more me. Y’know? Like upstairs.” You fidget again, glancing away from him, your grin fading.

Marc nods, still not sure what to say, the weight of something unknowable setting on his lungs. He never really considered that he might be impacting your life in any way. This weight isn’t uncomfortable, not like it usually is.

Your hands are still stroking over his, the pressure of your fingers pleasant and warm, soothing, and he doesn’t know what to say.

“I liked the orange.”

You grin, the sudden beam of your smile blinding him. “I did too. It just needs an update. I don’t want to erase the character of the shop. And I don’t want to erase her.”

Marc doesn’t know how to respond to that, since he’s had days he wished he could erase his mother. “I’m sorry,” he says, even though you’ll have no idea what he’s apologizing for.

“Hey,” you press your fingertips to the pulse point in his wrist. “It doesn’t erase your feelings, honey. It doesn’t make -,” you stop and take a breath. “She wasn’t perfect either, y’know. She was only a good mom when it suited her, and only when I got older. It’s why I lived with my dad. Even though it was complicated, I still loved her.” Your voice is quiet, “I think you struggle with that too.”

He doesn’t want to admit that. It makes thinking about Wendy all the harder, thinking about his past all the harder. “I don’t -,” he stops, meeting your gaze.

The shop is usually flooded with natural light. Now, you stand cocooned together in the low overhead lights. It casts odd shadows across your face, and a sudden exhaustion hits him all at once.

You don’t pull away, waiting. “It’s okay,” you soothe, still working the tension out of his hands.

“I don’t want to miss her,” he shifts, cradling your hands between his, slowly sliding his touch along your palms and the falls and valleys of your fingers. “That’s…it’s fucked up. I shouldn’t fucking miss her. I shouldn’t remember anything good and the piano -,”

He stops again, not able to continue. “I understand,” you muse. “It’s obviously not the same. But sometimes, I’m mad at her. She didn’t want to change who she was to be my mom. At the same time, I had a lot of good times with her.”

Marc looks up from your twinned hands at the same time that you do.

You disentangle one hand to shift an errant curl back from his face. “It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to mourn who she was before. It’s okay to miss and mourn the mother she should have been to you. It doesn’t make what she did to you any less terrible than it was. It just means things are complicated. It just means you’re human.”

Marc doesn’t look away from you, chasing the cut of your gaze. Your lashes lie thick against your cheek when you look down, like you’re embarrassed about all you’ve shared. He doesn’t want you to stop talking. He’d listen to you forever. He doesn’t want you to be embarrassed about sharing things with him.

Instead of saying any of that to you, he nods slowly and says, “How’d you figure all that out?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about for the last year,” you shrug. “I’ve spent a lot of time with myself. I mean, you’ve probably noticed that you’re kinda my only friend,” you joke lightly.

“That’s not true.”

“Name one other person.”

“That girl at Flour Up. The hardware guy.”

You smile. “Okay, Marc Spector, the hardware guy is definitely a better friend to me than you are.”

“He’d like to be though, wouldn’t he?” Marc mutters, thinking of the other times you’ve had to go to the hardware store with him. Your laugh breaks the tension, the edges of your eyes crinkling up before he adds, “Steven, too.”

You before he can stop you, you’re tugging your hand out of his grip.

His grief only lasts a second though, because a moment later you’ve rounded the counter and yourself fitted into his arms, hugging him tightly. “You’re safe here,” your mouth is by his ear, your voice soft, and he can feel the movement of your jaw where it’s tucked against his shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

“I know.” And he does. “My dad said to ask if I could stay here.”

“You can stay here,” you say, even though it wasn’t a question. “Always.”

Marc turns you gently in his arms, presses you back into the counter. Your hands fly up to press against his biceps, your hands warm through the fabric of his t-shirt. “What?” You smile at him when he doesn’t say anything.

“My dad told me that he got rid of the piano because it gave him hope I’d come home. When my mom died, that hope died. He was alone. The piano was hope for him. It reminded him too much of me. And before.”

You blink, “What’s the piano for you?”

Home. It’s home.

It reminds him of his mother and what should have been.

He doesn’t answer you.

But you nod anyway and stroke a careful hand across his shoulders, drawing him in closer. You’re warm against him, pliant and relaxed against his chest.

You smell like peace, like warmth and that signature lavender.

Marc decides to accept the moment for what it is, whether he should or not, gripping you back tight. He slides one hand up your spine until he can cup his palm against the back of your neck, the other winds around your waist.

For a moment, he thinks your breath stutters, before it rushes out of you in a sigh and you soften against him.

It’s a show of trust he didn’t know he needed.

You hold him just as tightly, adjusting your grip around his ribs.

“Ask.” It’s Steven this time. “You’re clearly flirting with each other. Go on, Marc, ask about the date.”

He closes his eyes to Steven’s reflection and shakes his head as subtly as he can.

Marc doesn’t let go of you.

He doesn’t ask you either.

Tales Untold, Chicago 11:24 PM

Marc does the dishes, just like he’d promised to.

Like always, he refuses your help but lets you watch.

You stand close to him, just so you can feel the heat rolling off his skin. And although you want to touch him again, you don’t.

He’s much quieter than usual, and for someone like Marc that means he’s practically nonverbal.

He doesn’t seem upset, merely introspective.

But it doesn’t stop anxiety from swimming in your belly, worried you’d overstepped yourself downstairs.

Your situation with your mother was very different to his, that much you know even if you don’t know the details.

When he’s done with the dishes and the water is draining away you decide to give him a bit of space. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” A knot of unease rests uncomfortably in your throat that you aren’t sure how to swallow down. You aren’t quite sure what it means.

Despite the worry rooting down in your veins, you manage to smile at him, showing him where the remote to your TV is. “If you’re still hungry, the leftovers are in the fridge and there are snacks pretty much in any cabinet you open. Okay?”

“Okay.” He only answers you when the door to the bathroom is nearly closed behind you.

You suck in a breath and try to put Marc out of your mind and how much you’d said.

Too much probably, considering what you had been talking about. Marc is already so closed up, you should have just left it. He didn’t need your shit weighing on him too.

A laugh escapes you and you press a hand over your mouth, stifling the laughter when you remember accusing Marc of being closed off.

Maybe you were the same, and overthinking it too.

You can’t find it in yourself to regret touching him though. The memory of the warmth of him against you fills you both with an odd peace and a giddy nervousness. You’d never wanted to move.

You stare at the crescents in the tile under your feet, remembering the heat of his shoulder beneath your cheek, the scent of him something heady and uniquely Marc, the way his palm felt both possessive and protective on the back of your neck.

You shake your head as you step in the shower, trying to clear away the wings of thought that closeness carried.

Marc trusts you with the pieces of himself as he works through something you only half understand. You can’t break that, you won’t.

The warmth of the water serves to wash away some of the tension lining your spine, ease the anxiety still bubbling inside you.

You don’t want to admit it, but you’re eager to be back with Marc.

You roll your eyes at yourself and flip off the water, annoyed.

It feels like a crush. It makes you feel stupid, like you’re a kid again, how much you like him.

It takes you a moment to hear it, over the sound of the bathroom fan and the still dripping water from the showerhead while you towel off.

Piano notes.

A song is being played slowly and deliberately, a little clumsily as though the person hasn’t played in a very long time.

You find yourself smiling as you listen. Still dripping water onto the floor, you wrap the towel around your body and step out of the shower to push your ear against the door.

Marc seems to pick up confidence the longer he plays, the notes faster and more sure, though he does make quite a few mistakes.

He plays beautifully, if a little inelegantly, the same song you usually play for him. You close your eyes and listen, not sure what it means that Marc is finally playing the piano. You pull away from the door and go through your after shower routine as quickly as you can before dressing, not able to wipe the smile off your face, worries forgotten.

You half expect the music to stop as soon as you have the door open, but it doesn’t.

Marc doesn’t even glance up as you creep closer and perch on the edge of the bench, like he isn’t entirely aware that you’re there.

You don’t touch him, just listen quietly for as long as he plays, itching to play alongside him but not daring to interrupt.

When the song eventually tapers off, Marc doesn’t turn to you, like he’s afraid to look at you.

You scoot closer to him on the bench then, until your shoulder bumps his.

His breath hitches when you pillow your head against his shoulder. “Beautiful,” you murmur. “Really.”

Marc carefully lies his cheek against the crown of your head. “Thanks. Little rusty.”

“Not too bad,” you hum. “I’m definitely the better player though.”

You think you feel his lips ghost against your temple, but you can’t be sure.

The feeling is so brief, you’re sure you imagined it. But you definitely feel the little huff of a laugh against your forehead. “Yeah, you are.”

He lifts his head away from yours, but his hand finds yours, the warmth of his palm enveloping yours.

You don’t try to hide your smile when you stand and attempt to tug him up from the bench. “C’mon. That’s enough emotional turmoil for one day.”

Marc manages a laugh but doesn’t follow the pull of your touch. “What?” you ask when he just looks at you.

For a moment, you think maybe you’re looking at Steven and you just hadn’t noticed the switch, before you realize Marc just has his guard down. His gaze is wide and gentle. The ease of trust makes him look younger, looser.

“What?” you repeat. “What’s wrong, honey?”

That word on your tongue seems to pull him out of his thoughts, whatever doubt was making him hesitate.

“C’mere,” he says, his eyes going soft and shaded. “There’s somethin’ I wanna show you.”

You tilt your head and watch curiously as Marc releases your hand and stands. He pushes the piano bench out of the way, and then folds himself to lie beneath the piano.

Intrigued, you bend at the waist and meet his eyes. “Is this your way of telling me you wanna sleep there?”

He rolls his eyes. “Just c’mere. I’m trying to show you something,” he grumbles.

You straighten and pluck a pillow off the sofa before returning to him.

It’s shadowed beneath the piano, the air cooler than the rest of the apartment. You tap Marc’s forehead so he lifts his head and you can fit the pillow beneath his head before you settle next to him.

He’s warm, his skin molten where it presses against yours, and that odd little flutter returns to your chest.

You don’t even consider looking up, tilting your chin in his direction instead. His lashes look impossibly long against the arch of his cheekbone, his skin golden brown in the soft lighting. The dusk of the little cocoon you’ve created in the shade of the piano feels strangely safe and peaceful.

You wonder how much of that is Marc’s presence, and how much is the piano’s energy.

Marc’s normally stormy expression breaks and he smiles at you suddenly, letting you watch him before he reaches out and taps two fingers under your chin. “I know I’m pretty, but you can stare at me some other time.”

You scoff, despite the prickle of embarrassment that itches under your skin. “Sure, flatter yourself, Marc.”

Marc just guides your head up, until you’re staring at the underside of the piano.

Etched into the wood are two sets of initials.

M.S. R.S.

“Oh,” you say, reaching up to trace the outline of letters clearly made by a child’s clumsy fingers. “M S, Marc Spector,” you whisper and trace the letters slowly. “Who’s R?”

Marc doesn’t immediately answer. When you hear him swallow loudly, you turn your head to look at him, hand settling atop your stomach when you lower it. “Marc?”

“My brother. Randall.”

“Randall,” you repeat. “Right. Your dad mentioned that when he dropped it off. Said you and your brother played it together.”

Marc nods, just the slightest dip of his chin. “Yep. We did.” He reaches up and traces the letters now, and you watch his face carefully. He’s nervous, but otherwise fine. “That was before he died.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Marc.”

He turns to you, eyes flicking over your face. “Look, I don’t wanna - we don’t gotta talk about it.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” When he just stares at you, you tilt your face toward his. You turn on your side and tuck your knees up against the side of his. Something warm roots down in you when he presses his hand over your waist and helps you wriggle closer to him. “It’s not about me, honey.”

His brows furrow. “Why do you call me that?”

“‘Cause you’re sweet,” you tease and smirk when he rolls his eyes. He leaves his hand where it rests against your waist, his wrist draped casually on your hip. His fingers flex on the edge of your t-shirt, fiddling with the edge of it, when he turns fully toward you on his side.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, fingers tightening on you, like he’s afraid you might slip away.

You tilt forward carefully, until your forehead rests against his. Marc keeps his eyes open and on yours. His eyes are like amber, threads of coffee and umber darkening his irises. Pretty, expressive eyes dig into yours, rounded with something you can’t identify. “No one really does. It’s not easy.”

“Was it easy for you? Talking about your mom?” His nose touches yours, his breath warm where it fans over your lips and chin.

It’s a little hard to breathe, even harder to focus.

Really, you think, no person should be allowed to be so beautiful.

“No,” you manage to laugh. You hadn’t talked about your mother since she died, since her funeral. “I went in the bathroom and panicked about how much I said,” you admit, and Marc frowns at you, starts to open his mouth when you continue. “It took a lot of…of y’know, internal work, to make peace with it. Only really started to get past the grief and confusion when you showed up.”

You fold one of your hands into his chest, trying not to feel nervous about the closeness, the vulnerability. It would be so easy to roll into him, to press yourself into his chest and absorb the heat of him. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” you hum. “Reminded me that this place can still change, and so can I. I’ve been like a bug trapped in honey. Everyday was the same. Long shifts and terrible dates. And then you showed up.”

Marc blinks, like he’s confused, like he never considered that he might be impacting your life. At least not in a positive way.

It’s quiet for a long time, and you shift to tuck your head under his chin, so you were both more comfortable and the position was slightly less awkward.

Marc does tuck his arm fully around you then, dragging you closer.

You can feel his eyes on the underside of the piano, on his brother’s initials.

“He died when we were kids,” Marc swallows and the sound of it is like grief and mourning. “That’s when she changed. He wasn’t there and she was different. My dad didn’t know what to do. And I was…alone.”

You try to piece together what exactly Marc is trying to say. He has a way of speaking cryptically, saying one thing that was coded for something else. He always treads lightly, like he’s trying to lighten the load of whatever he’s passing on, making the smallest mark possible.

You think of the way he’d told you about what happened the night you met Steven. How he’d said he was stretched thin, a mild turn of phrase for what had clearly been mind numbing fear. The strength of his grief had been enough evidence, the tears and stress and those tiny broken blood vessels beneath his eyes.

“So,” you hazard a guess, “you only have nice memories of both of them with the piano?”

He relaxes against your hand when you press it up the length of his spine. “Yeah.”

“That’s why it’s so important.”

“Yes. And I don’t think -,” he struggles with the words for a long moment, clutching you tighter. “I don’t think I got to mourn. Either of them. I wasn’t allowed.”

You rub his back quietly and wait to see if he’ll say more.

You already knew, you could tell, that Marc just sits with pain, buries it, ignores it. But to hear him admit it shocks you a little.

When he stays quiet, hands drifting over your back and along your sides as though grounding himself in you and the fabric of your shirt, you say, “You have time now. I’m glad you came to get it. It’s okay. To have good memories, of both of them. It’s okay to want the chance to mourn.”

Marc’s arms tighten around you, and you burrow down into him, resting your face against his chest.

You consider asking him if he’d like to move somewhere more comfortable, but you’re already comfortable with him and sleep pulls you under too quickly.

When you wake, Marc’s arms are tight around you, your head pillowed on his chest where he’d turned onto his back.

The sun has long ago risen, and Marc is still asleep.

Halsted Street, Chicago 4:56 PM

Marc watches the hardware guy flirt with you again from the rearview mirror. This is your fifth trip to the store since the first one.

You had decided to layer neon lettering over the new sign Marc was making for you, smiling at him apologetically when he’d groaned. “Now we gotta go back to the hardware store.”

“Sorry,” you’d said. “I know you hate having to go out with me.”

His stomach had done a weird little somersault at your words. “That’s not - that isn’t why -,”

“Marc?”

“What?”

“I’m joking,” you’d winked at him. “I know you hate my hardware store friend.”

He’d just grumbled, “We should go to another fucking hardware store.”

But you are attached to this one now, the one Marc had dragged you to in the first place. It’s something he’s slowly come to realize about you, that you easily get attached to things and routines and people.

He hopes you’re a little more attached to him than that fucking sales associate with a crush.

At the end of the day, though, he’s just some guy with a crush too.

“Crush, eh?” Steven is watching you from the side mirror of the truck. “Me too, I think.”

Marc watches Steven for a moment, his eyes flicking back to where you laugh with the sales guy, still chatting about something in the afternoon sun. It’s hot, summer falling on the city with a vengeance. Your shoulders are partially bare to the sun, and you have one hand lifted to shield your eyes despite having sunglasses clutched in your other hand.

Steven is watching you too, his eyes round and big, like cartoon hearts are about to start floating around his head at any moment.

He’s put off telling Steven about the piano, and he’s been more than patient, even if he’s begun harassing Marc daily about the Cubs game that may or may not be an actual date.

It had only gotten worse since he slept with you in his arms, under the piano no less. He’d tried to stay awake that night, so he could have the memory of holding you that way, apparently completely at ease, relaxed enough with him to fall asleep.

The teasing from Jake had been brutal, while Steven had been delighted. “Nice innit?” he’d asked none too casually.

He told you about Randall and his mom. He asked his dad about the fucking piano.

Steven deserves to know, too.

He can do one more hard conversation, he’s done it twice already.

Besides, Steven always knew better than him anyways, was better at seeing up from down.

“Steven,” he says, catching his alter’s attention from where he’s staring at you with lovestruck eyes. “I wanna tell ya about the piano.”

“Bloody hell, Marc, right now?” He blinks away from you to Marc.

When Marc just stares, he nods. “Alright then. Go on,” he encourages quietly. “I’m all ears.”

Marc swallows, leans his head against the frame of the door. “Mom and me used to play the piano all the time.” He swallows, “All my - everything I remember is good.”

The image of the living room bathed in gold swirls back to the front of his memory. The dust motes, the laughter, the quiet of a Saturday morning.

For a moment, he can’t continue, his throat swelling closed with unshed tears. “That’s - that’s a good thing, innit?” Steven asks gently.

Marc swipes at his face even though no tears have escaped. “Yeah. I guess so. But it feels fucked up to - to miss her.” Steven sucks in a breath but Marc barrels on. “I can’t be angry at something that was good. When Randall - when he died, we stopped playing it. We never touched it again.” He presses his head back into the headrest and closes his eyes to Steven. “How am I supposed to hate her when I remember loving her so much?”

“Oh,” Steven whispers, his breath a rush, like he finally understands. “You can do both, I think. I do.”

“You do?”

Steven sounds meek when he answers, “Well, yes. It was hard. Knowing all the love I remembered, well, that it came from you. And knowing-knowing what she did to us. It was hard. It is hard.” Marc opens his eyes to meet Steven’s gaze. “She loved us. We’re allowed to love that part of her. No matter what came later.”

A tear does track down his cheek then, and Marc hastily swipes it away. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Well, that’s why the piano is so hard.” Steven nods, encouraging. “It’s not just about mom though, it's about Roro too.”

“Randall played the piano too?”

“I was just - I had just started teaching him. He wasn't good at it. It came naturally to me. One morning, we - instead of practicing, we scratched our initials into the bottom of it.” Marc stops and checks the rearview mirror, to make sure you’re okay, to make sure you’re still there but not approaching the truck yet.

You’re smiling, one hand still lifted to shade your eyes.

“Anyways,” Marc says, glancing back at Steven. “I don’t like having good feelings about any of it. It feels wrong. Like I’m forgiving her.”

The image comes unbidden again. The warmth of the living room, Wendy’s hands over his, the sound of prayer and breakfast being cooked, the dust motes hanging suspended in the air; Randall begging Marc to show him how to play, even though his hands were much too small.

He hates that he remembers laughter and love when his mom bent down to ask them what they were doing under the piano. She hadn’t even gotten mad when she discovered what they’d done, just smiled and held out a hand, beckoning them out.

“You can have both,” Steven says. “It’s alright, Marc. It doesn’t have to be all bad.”

It’s the same thing you’d said to him.

But it had been easier when it was all bad, simpler.

“I know,” he says. “I think I do.”

Steven starts to respond when the passenger side door opens suddenly and you climb into the cab. “Marc,” you say his name, huffing out a wild breath as you adjust yourself in the seat and yank your seatbelt into place. “We gotta go get some ice cream. It’s so fucking hot,” you swipe a hand over your sweaty brow. “It’s full of tourists, but do you wanna try Navy Pier?”

If it were all bad, he thinks suddenly, maybe he wouldn’t have met you. If it were all bad, he wouldn’t have found out that his father missed him, he wouldn’t have had a reason to hunt for the piano and visit Tales Untold.

Marc reaches over and takes your hand, folds your fingers between his. He says your name and when you meet his eyes, your smile disappears, replaced with a fretful expression. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he shakes his head.

You reach up with your other hand and touch his cheek, the corner of your mouth twitching upwards again. “Alright, go ahead and be cryptic and weird.”

“Hey,” he catches at your hand when you start to pull away. You look beautiful, your skin is glowing. Marc tries not to stare and fails. “We gotta get tickets. If you still wanna go to a Cubs game.”

You blink at him; long, slow blinks where your lashes kiss the space beneath your eyes. “Yeah? I thought you were getting them.” You tilt your head, “And then - pizza after? Isn’t that what we said?”

You’re close to him, your eyes wide as you lean closer to him over the center console. You smell like sunshine, like sun on skin, and beneath that like your usual lavender.

Marc presses your hand harder against his cheek, tipping his head towards yours. Your breath shakes when you inhale and your mouth parts gently when you glance down at his lips.

He wants to kiss you so bad there’s an ache in his chest. But he keeps his eyes on yours, your breath fanning across his lips, the scent of you like sweet mint.

When you meet his eyes, you look mildly confused, and Marc wonders for just a split second if you’re as unsure as he is.

Your eyes flick down again, and Marc watches your face curiously. There are no walls between you. He doesn’t feel like he has to hide anything from you. You’d already caught him at his very worst.

So, he should do this right - shouldn’t he?

He should wait. Do it properly. He’s never gotten the chance before, not really.

He clears his throat and inches back from you, pulling your hand away from his cheek as he goes, patting your fingers gently. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, and so he doesn’t, folding your fingers between his instead. “Yeah, I can get us tickets. Just wanted to make sure you still wanted to go.”

You smile and then narrow your eyes. “Did you forget about it or something?”

Marc scoffs, feels the beat of the pulse in your wrist against his. Like he could fucking forget about it. “Of course not.”

“Not,” you repeat with the same inflection, a tease in your voice. “Listen to that accent.”

You glance over him, a strange fondness lodging in your eyes. “You alright? Looked like you were thinking pretty hard about something.” You reach up when he doesn’t answer to push a lock of hair behind his ear, like you’ve done a million times before.

But this time you say, “You should let your curls out more.”

Your fingers brush along his temple, the pads of your fingers soft. Marc basks in the warmth of your attention, the feeling of your hand against his skin.

“You like the curls, huh?”

You huff out a laugh and ruffle his hair until it falls in loose rings around his forehead.

He glares at you, and you throw your head back and laugh. The sound is unbelievable in its joy and he’s surprised he managed to draw it out of you.

Marc’s breath catches somewhere in his lungs, and he finds it hard to swallow down the feelings welling up.

Should he wait? Should he do anything at all?

This can’t last, this happiness in you. It never does, not when he’s around.

He hates the uncertainty that snaps a steel trap around his heart. But it's true, it’s always been true that people are better off without him.

You smile and twist a curl around your finger. “Look how pretty,” you coo at him.

Marc finds himself leaning into your hand when you cup his jaw. He wants to close his eyes and melt into it because he can’t be sure how long it will last. Your fingertips are just brushing his cheek when -

“Stop it. We are not doing this again, Marc. Stop thinking like that, asshole,” Jake says from the rearview mirror so suddenly that Marc flinches away from your touch.

You suck in a hard breath, and unlike the other times, it’s not a pleasant sound. “Sorry,” you pull back from him, looking horrified as you drop your hand.

“No,” he reaches for you again. “No, it’s -,”

You lift a brow, move your hand out of his reach, “It’s what?”

“Not you,” he shakes his head. “It’s not you.” He glances at Jake, who has the gall to lift a brow at him though he does look guilty for startling him, and then back at you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

Your face is closed off now, your smile a little strained, and he can’t tell what you’re thinking. “Okay.” You swallow, “I wanna go. With you. Just to be clear.”

Marc isn’t really sure what to say as you tuck yourself back into the seat, practically against the door, readjusting the seat belt before you fiddle with the radio, not looking at him, like you’re trying to give him space he doesn’t want.

He sighs, glares at the rearview where only his own face stares back at him now. He should know by now to take the chances offered to him, because nothing ever goes right otherwise.

He wonders again, why he even tries.

And this time, Jake isn’t there to interrupt him.

Thank you for reading! A special thank you to those keeping up with the series, and for all the continued love and support.

Comments and feedback are so appreciated. New parts will be posted Saturdays at 3PM EST! You can add yourself to the tag list on the series masterlist.

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stylesispunk · 5 months

Text

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 11

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

Series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (8 years), bee is the reader's nickname, angst, fluff, mentions of blood, not proofreading.

a/n: Chapter 11 is here! This one is 7k, so please give it love.Next chapter will be the last one so get ready for it. Thanks a lot for your comments and support, Reblogs and comments are appreciated. <3

masterlist

You knew this moment was going to arrive, but it didn’t make you feel less excited. In fact, this was finding out what your baby was going to be made you heart clenched in love.

Joel had started to rub your tommy with a scent oil he bought thinking about you, enjoying the feeling of your now popped belly under the touch of their fingertips. He knew that showering you in love what something you needed, not only because he wanted to show you the feeling, but because the only thought of the baby growing inside of you filled him with so much joy and happiness. He had to let you and this baby how much he loved you.

So, when he listened to the doctor asking you both if you wanted to know the baby’s gender, he beamed at you, mouth wide open waiting for your answer.

“Congratulations,” your doctor said, as she looked at the scan device “It’s a boy”

It’s a boy, said the voice in his head. I’m having a baby boy with my bee.

He saw you moving your mouth, saying something to him, but all he hears was a ringing noise, while the possibilities of name you had yet to discuss bounced inside his head. He was going to have a baby boy and it took him some more seconds to come back down from his own nine cloud.

“Rowan” Joel said, a wide smile on his face

“What?” you asked, tears streaming from your eyes thought you were laughing.

“We can call him Rowan” he spoke “because of the rowan tree”

You beamed at him, “I love it” you laughed as you reached for his face, savoring the warmth of his skin under your touch. You wiped the tears falling down his checks, comforting him.

“I love you” he spoke, kissing your hand “And I love you baby Rowan” he said to your bump.

As the weeks went by, the sense of anticipation grew within you. The news had brough a different kind of glow to you and you seemed happier than ever, and how couldn’t you? Ever since you found the gender of the baby everyone seemed to be delighted by it. From Sarah to your friends to your families, all the were eager to contribute to the joyous atmosphere, sharing in the excitement of welcoming baby Rowan.

Lily, with her creativity was the you were familiar with, took charge of organizing a small baby shower for you.

“Don’t you think is too early for this?” you asked through you laughing.

“You are almost 5 months now. Of course, I’m celebrating you and my great son”

“Who told you are going to be his grandmother?” Joel’s voice asked in a playful tone, interrupting your conversation with Lily.

“Ugh. I’m sorry baby bee “Lily leaned down and whispered to your belly “Your daddy is a bully”

“Don’t say bad things about me to my son”

You chuckled at the playful banter between Joel and Lily. The baby shower, although smaller in scale, was a heartfelt celebration filled with love and laughter. The flower shop was adorned with delicate blue decorations, and a sweet aroma of fresh flowers wafted through the air.

Close friends and family gathered to share in the joy of welcoming baby Rowan. Sarah, who had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of her baby brother, was buzzing with excitement. She proudly helped Lily arrange the flowers and insisted on being your helper throughout the celebration.

As the guests arrived, they brought with them well-wishes, thoughtful gifts, and words of wisdom for the journey into parenthood, especially to you since this was going to be your first baby. The place was filled with joy, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support surrounding your growing family.

“God, you look so beautiful with this dress,” Joel said as he hugged you from behind, hands on your tummy. “I didn’t get to see you wearing it this morning”

“Yes, because you let me sleep pass my alarm and I got late for work” you answered, leaning into his embrace.

“I know you’re been more tired lately” he said, placing his lips on your hair, kissing your head.

You sighed contentedly, relishing in Joel's warmth and affection. His gentle kisses on your hair sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of comfort in his embrace.

"Maybe I've been tired because someone kept me up last night," you teased, turning around to face him with a playful smile.

Joel raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, really? And who might that be?"

You chuckled, placing a hand on his chest. "I think you know exactly who I'm talking about, mister."

He grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. The warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips against yours made the weariness of the day melt away. In that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in the shared anticipation of becoming parents.

As you pulled away from the kiss, Joel rested his forehead against yours. "You know, I can't wait to meet our little guy," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and tenderness.

"Me neither," you replied, your hand finding its way to your growing belly. "I wonder what he'll be like."

Joel chuckled, "Knowing you, he'll probably be just as stubborn and amazing as his mom."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Hey, I can't argue with the amazing part."

He laughed, pulling you into another hug.

“Oh! Young love” a voice interrupted your embrace with Joel.

“Mrs. Green. Good morning” you said, pulling away from Joel’s hug “What do you need today?”

“I let you both to be” Joel said, planting a kiss on your lips before heading out “Bye love, bye Mrs. Green”

"Ah, you two," she mused, her eyes twinkling.

"How can I help you today?" you asked, returning your attention to her.

As she browsed the flowers, she couldn't resist asking about your pregnancy. "How's everything going, dear? Pregnancy just suits you so well"

You shared the excitement you felt about the upcoming arrival of baby Rowan. Mrs. Green's eyes softened as she listened, her own memories of motherhood flooding back.

"You know, dear, I remember when I was pregnant. It was a magical time, but it also brought its own set of challenges."

Intrigued, you looked up from your work, inviting her to share her story.

"I felt beautiful and powerful carrying a life inside me," she began, "but as the months went by, I started to feel insecure. It was as if my body was no longer my own, and I was solely defined by the pregnancy. I began to question if my husband still saw me beyond the baby bump."

Her words resonated with the unspoken fears that had occasionally crept into your own thoughts.

"He was thrilled about becoming a father, and I felt a bit lost in the shadow. It's easy to get consumed by the changes and forget that you are still the woman your partner fell in love with," she continued, a knowing smile on her face.

As she spoke, you couldn't help but feel a sense of fear as she kept talking to you.

"And, dear," Mrs. Green added, her tone turning more serious, "I've seen your boyfriend spending time with that gorgeous artist at the gallery. It's important to take care of your relationship, especially during these times."

“Oh no! It’s nothing like that. They are working together, it’s a kind of group of artists wanting to have their work in his gallery” you said, not paying attention to the nagging feeling settling in your stomach.

"I see, dear. It's important to trust each other and maintain open communication," she advised, her eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and wisdom. "Sometimes, even the most innocent situations can lead to- “

“You shouldn’t be saying those kind of things”

Lauren’s voice interrupted the conversation between you and Mrs. Green from continuing.

“Lauren is not important” you said interfering.

“No, sorry but I can see is bothering you, don’t you see it Mrs. green?”

“You know what?” Mrs. Green said, completely ignoring Lauren “I’m coming later when your shop is less crowded” Mrs. green said, heading out before you could even respond.

You looked at Lauren standing in front of you, only the counter between you.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes, thank you” you smiled.

“I-I’m actually…You know what? I know I’m not the right person to say this but, don’t overthink.”

“I’m not”

“I don’t even know you and I know you’re doing it” she spoke “When I came back for him you both were pretending you were together only for make me go away, and he was already head over heals for you, why would be different now?”

“I’m having a baby with him, my body is changing, I’m moody a-and and what if he gets tired”

“He is obsessed with you, with or without a baby. I know him, and sharing a daughter with him is enough for me to know it."

“Oh my god” chuckled “We really do”

“But you know what’s the difference between you and me?”

You shook you head.

“You not only are giving him a baby, but the love he always deserved. I never could give that to him”

“Lauren-“

“Listen. He is an amazing man. Another person would never allow me to meet my daughter after what I did to them and he did it. He gave me a second chance to meet my daughter and I will be forever grateful for it, so the less I can do is helping the woman he loves”

You stood there, absorbing Lauren's words, feeling a mix of emotions – gratitude, reassurance, and a deep appreciation for the bond that had formed between you.

"Thank you, Lauren," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I appreciate your honesty and your support. It means a lot, especially during these uncertain times."

Lauren offered you a warm smile, leaning over the counter as if to bridge the physical distance between you. "Just remember, you're not alone in this. Joel is a good man, and he chose you. Don't let unnecessary doubts cloud the joy of what you're building together."

“By the way, do you need something?”

“Oh right! Yes, I would like a bouquet”

In the evening, the next day, when the sun dipped below the horizon, and the cozy warmth of your home enveloped you. Joel and Sarah had been busy preparing for your night together as a family, and the sweet aroma of a home-cooked dinner wafted through the air.

As you settled in the living room, surrounded by the soft glow of candles, Joel couldn't help but be extra attentive. He fetched pillows for you, making sure you were comfortable on the couch, and ensured you had a cozy blanket to keep you warm. Sarah, having embraced her role as a big sister-to-be, sat beside you, taking care of you.

Joel brought out a carefully arranged bouquet of flowers. "I thought these might brighten up our evening," he said with a smile, placing the bouquet on the coffee table.

"Joel, you really didn't have to," you said, touched by his actions.

"I wanted to," he replied, his eyes filled with affection. "You deserve all the beautiful things in the world, especially during this time."

You smiled, even when the nagging thoughts play inside your mind.

As dinner unfolded, Joel treated to your every need. He refilled your water glass, ensured your plate was perfectly portioned, and even went as far as cutting up your food for you. Sarah watched the interaction with a mix of amusement at seeing her father so devoted to your well-being.

"Joel, you're spoiling me," you chuckled, feeling a warm sense of gratitude for the love surrounding you.

"I just want you to feel cherished," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The night continued with laughter, shared stories from the day, and the anticipation of the family growing even closer with the arrival of baby Rowan. Joel's attentiveness didn't wane; if anything, it intensified as the night fell.

As you all gathered in the cozy living room, Joel suggested a movie night. He carefully selected a film, ensuring it was one both you and Sarah would enjoy. Snuggled together under the blanket, Joel made sure you were comfortable, adjusting pillows and ensuring you had enough space.

The movie played, but Joel's attention remained on you. He subtly caressed your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles. Every now and then, he stole glances, his eyes filled with affection and a touch of excitement.

As the credits rolled, Joel looked at you with a tender smile. "How are you feeling, Bee?"

"I'm feeling wonderful," you replied, your heart warmed by the love and care surrounding you.

"Good. That's all I want," he said, leaning in for a soft, peck in the lips.

.........

Once you lay under the covers of the bed. Joel held you close as if he hadn’t seen you in a year and mumbled, “I miss you” hiding his face on your neck.

“I was gone for 10 minutes.” You scoffed

“The longest 10 minutes of my life!” he said.

Joel's embrace tightened as if he never wanted to let go. You chuckled at his dramatic response, feeling the warmth of his affection.

"You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?" you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

He lifted his head from your neck, looking at you with a playful pout. "Well, when you're used to having you around all the time, even 10 minutes feels like an eternity."

You couldn't help but be touched by his sincerity. Snuggling closer, you whispered, "I missed you too, Joel. But I'm right here now."

He smiled, his eyes expressing a mix of love and contentment. "That's all that matters."

He started kissing your lips. The kiss was gentle at first, filled with tenderness and affection but as the kiss deepened, the outside world ceased to exist. The worries of your mind were replaced by the warmth increasing within you with Joel’s touch.

Every touch of his fingertips increased something inside her. She wanted to show him she was still the woman he fell in love with, and not only the mother of his child, so she kept kissing him wildly.

“I want you” you spoke, breathlessly, slipping your both arms around his neck, and holding him close.

Then, his shirt had come off and your sleep gown was on the floor. You placed yourself over him. You cupped his face as your thumbs caressed his face.

He gazed up at you “You’re so beautiful like this”

You kissed him again, your fingers tangled in his hair to deepen the kiss. Now you were drunk in love with him. His skin was slick with sweat, but then he suddenly pulled away,

“What happened?” You asked, worried.

“I’m worried. I don’t wanna hurt you” you sighed, falling next to him in bed.

“Oh my god,” you said, pulling away from him “It was because of pity”

“How the fuck I would kiss you out of pity?”

“Don’t curse!” you exclaimed “Because you hadn’t touched me in like a month”

Joel's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern. "Bee, what are you talking about? Pity? That's the last thing on my mind."

You shifted in the bed, crossing your arms defensively. "Joel, we haven't been having sex for a while, and suddenly you start kissing me just for nothing. It just felt... I don't know, like pity or obligation."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Bee, it's not like that. I haven't touched you because I wanted to be careful and considerate with the pregnancy. I didn't want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable or harm the baby. But tonight, I felt like we were in a good place, and I just wanted to be close to you."

You softened at his explanation, realizing that he had been trying to be mindful of your feelings. "Joel, I appreciate that, I really do. It's just, I want to feel desired, not pitied."

He reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Love, you are desired. More than you can imagine. Pregnancy has made me even more aware of the incredible woman you are, and I don't want you to doubt that for a second."

You took a moment to think about Joel's words, the sincerity in his gaze calming the storm of emotions within you. His touch on your cheek felt reassuring, and you began to see the genuine concern he had for both you and the baby.

"I guess I let my insecurities get the best of me," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. "I just want us to be on the same page, especially with the baby coming."

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. "We will be, Bee. Let's talk about our feelings more, and we'll figure this out together. I love you, and I don't want you doubting that for a moment."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders. The vulnerability you shared in that moment brought you closer, deepening the bond between you and Joel.

"Thank you for being patient with me," you whispered, leaning into his touch.

Joel pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Always, Bee. We're in this together, no matter what."

The next day, Joel was out for a dinner meeting with the artists in preparation for the upcoming exhibition at his gallery. You and Sarah were at home, spending quality time together. Having dinner together and watching movies.

As you and Sarah chatted in the living room, a weird sensation caught your attention. A subtle cramp twinged in your lower stomach, and you instinctively winced, your hand resting on your belly.

"Are you okay, Bee?" Sarah asked, concern flickering in her eyes.

You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the discomfort. "Yeah, just some cramps. Probably nothing to worry about."

But as time passed, the cramps intensified, and a nagging worry settled in the pit of your stomach. You excused yourself to the bathroom, Sarah's concerned gaze following you.

Inside the bathroom, you took a deep breath, hoping the discomfort would subside. However, when you looked down, a wave of panic swept over you.

There was blood.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your hands trembling as you reached for your phone. You quickly dialed Joel's number, praying he would pick up.

But he didn’t. You tried calling him three more times, but there was no answer

Panic intensified as Joel's phone continued to go unanswered. With a shaky hand, called out for Sarah, your heart pounding in your chest. It only took her a few seconds to come to the bathroom.

"Sarah, something's wrong," you managed to say, your voice quivering. "I'm bleeding, and Your dad isn't answering his phone. I don't know what to do."

There was a moment of silence, and you could see Sarah's concern through her face. "Okay, Bee, Just try to stay calm. We need to get you to the hospital. Let me call my uncle”

Sarah quickly made the call to her Uncle Tommy, explaining the urgent situation. Within minutes, Tommy and Lily arrived at your home, their faces mirroring the concern etched on Sarah's.

They ran upstairs to help you get in the car and take you to the hospital.

"Hey, Bee, we're here for you," Tommy said, his voice gentle yet resolute.

Lily placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Sarah told us what's happening. Let's get you to the hospital. We'll take care of everything."

With their support, you were helped to the car, Sarah, Tommy, and Lily ensuring you were as comfortable as possible during the journey. The drive to the hospital was filled with tense silence, only interrupted by the occasional reassurances from Sarah and Lily who were holding your hands.

Upon arrival, Tommy parked the car as close to the entrance as possible. The emergency room staff was quick to respond, guiding you into a wheelchair and taking you inside for an immediate evaluation.

Sarah stayed by your side, holding your hand tightly. "Everything will be okay, Bee. They'll take care of you."

Inside the hospital, the medical team worked swiftly to assess your condition. Sarah, Tommy, and Lily were offering support and waiting anxiously for any updates. The atmosphere was tense, but their presence provided a sense of comfort amid the chaos.

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached with professional calm. "We're running some tests to understand the situation better. Please bear with us. We'll keep you informed."

Sarah, Tommy, and Lily took turns offering words of encouragement, their faces displayed worry and support.

Time seemed to stretch as you and your loved ones waited for the medical team'. The hospital's sterile scent and hushed conversations in the background only heightened the tension in the air. Sarah stayed close, her hand a constant source of comfort for you.

Finally, a nurse approached, her expression neutral yet professional. "We've conducted some tests, and the doctor will be with you shortly to discuss the results. Please try to remain calm."

Nervous glances were exchanged among you, Sarah, Tommy, and Lily. The waiting game continued, each passing minute feeling like an eternity.

When the doctor arrived, their face conveyed both seriousness and empathy. "We've identified the cause of the bleeding, and I want to assure you that we are closely monitoring the situation. But the most important thing is the baby is okay."

You took a deep breath, absorbing the information. Sarah squeezed your hand, her eyes reflecting relief for you and her baby brother. Tommy and Lily stood by, ready to offer support in any way they could.

Meanwhile, Joel sat at the dinner table with the group of artists and engaged in conversations about upcoming exhibitions, and the creative process. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the energy of passionate individuals coming together to share their love for art.

As he sipped his wine and participated in the discussions, his phone vibrated discreetly in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he noticed several missed calls from you. A faint frown creased his forehead, but he chose to ignore the calls, assuming it might be something that could wait until he finished the dinner.

An hour later, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a call from Tommy. Excusing himself from the table, Joel stepped into a quieter area to answer the call.

"Joel, you need to come to the hospital," Tommy's voice carried an urgency that immediately caught Joel's attention.

"What happened?" Joel's tone shifted, concern replacing the casual demeanor he had maintained at the dinner.

"It's Bee. Something happened,” Tommy explained, his words hitting Joel like a punch to the gut.

Fear gripped Joel's heart as he struggled to process the information. He quickly excused himself from the dinner, leaving the restaurant in a hurry. The drive home felt like an eternity, with thoughts of the worst-case scenarios racing through his mind.

When he arrived, the hospital was filled with an uneasy energy. He rushed inside, his steps echoing in the hallways. It was then that he learned the details of what had happened—the fear and the uncertainty.

Joel's worry escalated, and as he heard the story, the guilt of not answering the calls earlier gnawed at him. He hurried to be by your side, his heart heavy with concern and regret.

Once he spotted your room, he walked towards the door with a heavy heart, his worry intensifying with every step. Sarah and Tommy stood outside the room, their expressions a mix of concern and relief as they saw him approach.

"Dad," Sarah said, her voice a hushed whisper. "We're so glad you're here."

"What happened?" Joel's eyes darted between Sarah and Tommy, seeking answers.

Tommy explained the things that had happened in your absence the cramps, the trip to the hospital, and the agonizing wait for news about you and the baby. Joel's guilt deepened as he listened, the weight of not being there for you in those scary moments settling heavily on him.

Without another word, Joel entered the room, his eyes immediately finding you. Lily gave Joel a reassuring nod as she left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Bee," Joel whispered, rushing to your side, his voice filled with worry. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You looked up at him, your eyes welling with tears. The emotions that had been suppressed for hours burst forth as you saw Joel's face, your love for him, and the fear.

"I... I was bleeding, Joel," you managed to say, your voice quivering. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer, and I was so scared."

Joel's eyes filled with regret as he took your hand, gently squeezing it. "I'm so sorry, Love. I should've been here. I should've answered my phone."

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of fear, relief, and the overwhelming weight of the situation. Joel pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he could protect you from all the bad in the world.

“Ho-How is the baby?” he asked, carefully and scared of what the answer would be.

You kept crying but found some strength to tell him.

That’s it. He thought and his heart broke as the reality sank in his head.

“He is fine,” you said, voice trembling.

Relief flooded Joel's face as he heard the words. He held you, his hands gently framing your face as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs.

"He's fine," you repeated, your voice shaky but filled with a mix of gratitude and reassurance.

Joel pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before pulling you into another embrace. "Thank goodness," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine relief. "I don't know what I would've done if..."

He couldn't finish the sentence, the weight of the scare still heavy on both of your hearts. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his warmth and the shared relief that the baby was okay.

"I should've been here," Joel repeated, his voice full of regret. "I won't leave your side now. We'll get through this, Bee. I promise."

The door to the hospital room opened, and a nurse entered, breaking the intimate moment. She offered a kind smile, understanding the emotions flooding around.

The nurse's gentle interruption brought a momentary pause in the room. She took a step forward, her eyes displaying both empathy and professionalism.

"I have good news," she said, smiling reassuringly. "The latest tests show that the baby is completely fine. However, given the situation, she must get some rest to ensure both her and the baby's well-being."

Joel nodded his expression a mix of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

The nurse adjusted some of the monitoring equipment, making sure everything was in order. "The doctor will be in shortly to provide more details and discuss the next steps. In the meantime, try to get some rest. It's important for both of you."

As the nurse left the room, a sense of relief washed over you and Joel. The weight of uncertainty hadn't fully lifted, but the news about the baby brought a glimmer of hope.

Joel continued to hold you, his touch a comforting presence. "Rest, Bee. I'll be right here with you," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The door opened again, and this time, the doctor entered the room. They greeted you both with a warm smile before delving into a more detailed explanation of the situation. As they spoke, it became clear that while the baby was stable, your body needed time to recover.

"It's crucial that you prioritize rest," the doctor emphasized. "Your well-being directly impacts the baby's. We'll continue to monitor both of you closely, but taking it easy is the best course of action. You can go home, but you need to rest”

Joel nodded, his concern for you etched across his face. "We'll do whatever it takes to make sure they're both okay."

The car ride back home was filled with heavy silence. Joel drove cautiously, occasionally glancing at you in the rearview mirror. Sarah sat quietly beside you, her presence a comforting anchor.

The weight of almost losing your baby hung in the air, and you found yourself lost in your own thoughts. The doctor's words about rest echoed in your mind, and the gravity of the situation pressed on you. The streets outside blurred as your mind grappled with the fragility of life and the overwhelming responsibility that now rested on your shoulders.

Joel's hand found yours, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We're almost home," he said softly, breaking the silence. "You just focus on resting, Bee. We'll take care of everything else."

Your gaze met his in the rearview mirror, and you managed a faint nod. The drive continued in quiet introspection, each passing moment carrying the weight of the recent scare.

When you arrived home, the familiar surroundings felt both comforting and surreal. Joel helped you inside, and the air was charged with unspoken emotions. Sarah quietly excused herself, sensing the need for a private moment.

Joel guided you upstairs to the bed, and as you settled in, he knelt beside you, his eyes searching yours. "Are you okay?" he asked, a genuine concern etched on his face.

You nodded, unable to find the words. You couldn’t help but to felt guilty creeping all over your body, you were supposed to take care of the baby, but you just hurt him, what happened had left you emotionally drained, and the need for rest weighed heavily on you. Joel placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before standing up.

"I'll make sure everything is in order. You just take it easy," he said, his voice a soothing presence.

As he left to attend to the tasks around the house, you lay there, feeling a mix of exhaustion and emotional turbulence.

The room was filled with a soft glow from the bedside lamp, casting a warm ambiance. You closed your eyes, attempting to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you. The events of the day had been a stark reminder of the fragility of life, and the weight of responsibility settled heavily on your shoulders.

After a while, Joel returned to the room, his movements quiet and deliberate. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes still carrying the worry that had etched lines on his face throughout the day.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked, his voice a gentle ask.

You shook your head, a small smile attempting to reassure him. "I just need you”

Joel's expression softened at your words. Without a moment's hesitation, he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he pulled you into a comforting embrace.

"I'm right here," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. His fingers traced gentle circles on your back, a rhythmic gesture meant to offer solace in the quiet of the room.

etched lines on Joel's face began to ease as the two of you shared a quiet moment, finding comfort in each other's arms.

Time seemed to stretch, and in the hushed atmosphere, the love that bound you and Joel together became an unbreakable force. There were no words needed, just the shared understanding that in moments of vulnerability, you could lean on each other for support.

The night unfolded in a gentle quietude, and as you lay in Joel's arms, the weight of the day gradually lifted.

Joel pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, a gesture filled with both love and reassurance. "Rest, Bee. I'll be right here with you," he murmured.

As you closed your eyes, letting the rhythmic sounds of Joel's breathing and the soft hum of the night envelop you, a profound sense of gratitude washed over you.

The next morning arrived with a soft glow entered through the curtains. Joel had let you sleep for a few more hours. The sounds of his muted conversations downstairs indicated that he was working from home, managing gallery stuff, and ensuring everything ran just right during his absence.

As you slowly woke up, the weight of the previous day's events settled into your consciousness. However, the warmth of the morning sunlight and the gentle ambiance of the room brought a sense of calm. You could hear Joel's hushed voice from below, comforting you.

Taking a deep breath, you sat up, feeling exhausted and the comforting presence of your surroundings. The door creaked open, and Joel entered, with a tray of breakfast in his hands. His eyes softened as he saw you awake, and a warm smile graced his face.

"Good morning, Love" he greeted, setting the tray on your lap. "I thought you might be hungry."

You returned his smile, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you"

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you eat. What had happened the previous night lingered in the air. Joel sensed the need for a moment of normalcy and began updating you on the gallery stuff and the plans for the upcoming exhibition.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but admire his dedication, balancing both work responsibilities and his commitment to you. The love and care he poured into his words were evident, a reassuring reminder that you weren't facing anything alone anymore.

You belonged somewhere now.

After a while, Joel finished his updates and looked at you with a warm expression. "How are you feeling this morning?"

You paused, considering the question. "Better, I think. And with you here, it makes everything a little brighter for me."

His eyes softened, and he reached for your hand. "I'm glad to hear that. We'll take it one step at a time, okay?"

Nodding, you appreciated Joel's steadying presence. As he rose from the bed, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Rest a bit more if you need to. I'll be right downstairs if you need anything."

Later that day, the sunlight had mellowed into a warm glow as Sarah returned home from school. Joel, who had been working with his laptop on the table, greeted her with a smile as she walked in.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, setting aside his work and standing up to welcome her. "How was your day?"

Sarah returned the smile, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. "It was okay. How's Bee?"

Joel's expression softened. "She's resting. It's been a bit of a rough time, but we're taking it one step at a time."

Sarah nodded, understanding the situation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just being here is enough," Joel reassured her, appreciating her concern. "How about you? How's school?"

As they settled into the living room, Joel found a moment to share something with Sarah that had been on his mind. He looked at her with excitement.

"Sarah, there's something I want to talk to you about," he began, his tone more serious yet filled with softness.

Her curiosity piqued, and Sarah nodded for him to continue.

"You know how much your dad loves Bee, right?" Joel started, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Well, I've been thinking a lot, especially after everything that's happened…. I’m asking Bee to marry me”

Sarah's eyes widened with realization. “Are you for real?”

Joel nodded, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Yeah. I've never been more sure about anything in my life. Bee is just… I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I also want you to know that this doesn't change anything between us. If anything, it just means we'll be a more official family."

A genuine smile spread across Sarah's face. "That's great, Dad. I think she is the right for you”

“Do you think so?”

“You know Bee is the girl I pictured as my mom when I was little. She was so kind all the time and I didn’t understand why you didn’t like it”

Joel's eyes softened at Sarah's heartfelt words. "She cares about you a lot, you know. And I'm grateful that you've accepted her into our lives."

Sarah nodded, a warm expression on her face. "Bee is the best thing of our family and I’m so happy you want to do this, dad”

Joel's heart swelled with gratitude and love for Sarah. "I'm happy too, Sarah. And I appreciate you welcoming Bee into our lives with open arms. You and Bee mean the world to me, and I want us to be a happy family."

Sarah grinned, her eyes reflecting genuine happiness. "We are a family, Dad. And soon, it's going to be official"

Joel chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Officially official."

a/n: As I said, the next chapter is the last one so get ready for the happy ending

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981 @littleshadow17 @sevillagrenada

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