#Trim Winding Machine

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Drabble: The Prefect's routine

I wonder if Yuu's friends ever realize how awful their circumstances is, how innately lonely and scary it is to be far away from home, with a slim chance of returning?

Yuu has put effort Ramshackle dorm to make it livable. They expended time, effort, and their meager allowance to make a home out of it. It distracts them from thinking too much of their home.

Yuu can still remember the coldness of the night they first arrive. The aching of their body as they battled ghosts and the taste of dust in their tongue when they woke up. The wind blew open the window shutters, the hinges of the doors were groaning. There was no peace or comfort except from the warmth of Grim's body.

They found no rest the following days as they had to deal with the first overblot.

Then they had to deal with renovations. They had to fix the broken faucets, replace the waterpipes and throw away rusted metal or rotten wood. They had to clean every corner that they could. The cobwebs on the walls, in the corners and under the tables. One time they fell to the basement due to a rotten floorboard.

In the weekdays they had to study those they were unfamiliar with, alchemy, magic,flying, and history. They felt like a kindergartener as they knew nothing . At night instead of immediately resting they had to do their homework, which they do not understand . Then it was back to trying to fix the faucet to get some water. If the boiler wasn't working, they had to boil hot water in a kettle to take a soothing bath.

Grim and the Ghosts atleast offered them companionship. They had no phone so they take any interaction they get.

The only clothing they ever had with them were the clothes behind their back, which they used as pajamas. Crowley gave them 3 sets of wrinkly old school uniforms,one for class, one for Pe and one for ceremonies, they were ill fitting but atleast they could change . Alas, they had to sew it up together as the seams fell apart after one washing. It still smelled like dust and old mold.

They had nothing else to wear during the weekends, so they settled in sewing up old curtains into shirts. Ace and Deuce were kind enough to donate to them a pair of shorts each, taking pity when they saw Yuu struggling to fix an ancient sewing machine so they could sew more clothing.

Yuu has gotten pretty good at mending old clothes and making new shirts. They even patched up the couch and the curtains.

Then there was the roof. Oh the damn roof keeps leaking and the damn window shutters keeps banging! It drove them insane that they went and tried to fix it themselves, reading up on an old book to learn how to fix it.

That was the first time they fell off the roof.

Luckily they landed on a particularly strong branch. Their stomach was bruised the whole month, which they hid from their friends.They were resilient and stuborn to a fault.

Then theres the laundry that needs to be done. They do it all one friday night, so that if it ever rains by Sunday they'd have fresh clothes to go. The harder part was washing the beddings and the couach, the curtains and the carpets.

The worst was when the electricity turned off or the light bulb bursts. The nights were very cold and they had to huddle closer to Grim while they wait for the next day.

And let's not forget the garden, the trees needd trimming. The fence needed repainting. The gate needed replacing. The lawn needed mowing.

It was like that, day by day. Study, clean up ramshackle, find another broken thing in the dorm, fix it, do homework, do Crowley's errands, hang out with their friends.

Repeat.Repeat. Repeat.

If there was a moment of peace and quite, it never lasted long.

It surprises the others when Yuu doesn't keep a grudge against those who overblotted. The guys who were the reason Yuu had more on their plate. The persons who were the reason Crowley made Yuu write an entire report on the happenings.Alas, they still did it with no complaints.

Yuu makes sure that they do not have the time to be idle. If they hands are, their mind shouldn't .

Never ever EVER be alone with their own thoughts.

They cannot allow themselves to wallow in self pity. They had a dorm to maintain, a cat to take care of, friends to entertain and school work to be done.

Their hands have never felt rougher.Their shoulder never felt so stiffer.

But that's just the way things go.

[chilling-seavey]

Don't Worry Darling (gr63)

↳ A/N The best part about watching movies as a writer, is being inspired to write my own spin-off of the plot. I was absolutely gagged when I watched DWD and this came of it.

↳ Inspired By Don't Worry Darling (2022)

↳ Summary: Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Wife!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 21.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, gender roles, smut, oral (f reciving), breeding kink to the maaaax (and the applicable dirty talk to go along with it), one or two instances of 'mommy' and 'daddy' but not in the spicy sense, unprotected sex (we're trying to make a baby here, people), some descriptions of sickness, brief mention of suicide, some mention of medical content, dark undertones.

The summer sun danced across the freshly cleaned carpeted floors, lining perfectly with the horizontal streaks from the vacuum that had been taken to it only a few moments before. The single storey house smelt of fresh linen and citrus cleaning products and the full glass windows sparkled brilliantly in the early afternoon sun. Outside in the backyard, the two rows of clotheslines were hung over pristine green grass and the crisp white sheets were hung perfectly over each line and pinned precisely on each end. The wind rippled through them in the calm breeze, wafting clean scents across the trimmed backyard and tended garden of flourishing flowers. 

In your pastel blue dress, the empty laundry basket rested on your hip as you returned inside from tending to the laundry, a gentle whistle on your lips to a tune you couldn’t quite place but had been stuck in your head for a few days. Your white kitten heels walked silently across the perfectly vacuumed carpet back towards the mudroom that was tucked beside the garage and took the last load of laundry out of the washing machine to place in the basket. 

The crisp white dress shirts were hung on the clothesline in the backyard beside the clean sheets, pinned delicately by their shoulders so the wind could take their freshness and dry them in the summer air. 

Rain was never a concern as the neighbourhood in which you lived never had a day of spotty weather. In fact, since the day you and your husband moved into the desert oasis town, there had been nothing but comfortable temperatures and clear skies. It was just another confirmation that your decision to move out of your every-day society and into this private section of the world was the correct one. 

Running your hands down the front of the final clean dress shirt, you leaned in towards it to inhale the fresh scent of fabric softener that encapsulated the fibres and filled your senses with the familiarity that was your husband. With him away at work during the days, one might think that you would get lonely. On the contrary, there were always things for you to take up your time with. If you weren’t cleaning the house for his return, preparing dinner, or tending to the garden, you had lots of opportunities to visit the shops in town, lounge by the pool with the other ladies in the neighbourhood, or attend ballet classes where you could. Life had no stress. Life was perfect. 

With the laundry drying in the yard, you returned inside to begin preparing dinner. Your white apron was tied around your waist and you flipped open your recipe book to select your evening meal. Missing your husband a little extra that afternoon, you decided to make his favourite for his homecoming. 

On freshly scrubbed countertops and over the sparkling clean stove, you prepared the meal for him delicately and with nothing but your utmost attention to detail. He deserved nothing more than perfection. The meat was seasoned by your careful manicured hands and laid in a bed of onions and potatoes and spices in the oven to roast, the timer set for an exact hour. With the vegetables cooking on the stovetop and the counters washed down from dinner prep, you began to set the dining table for two. 

The china dishes that had been a wedding gift were set between carefully placed sterling silver cutlery and two slim candles were lit in the centre of the table. You crouched in front of the fireplace that divided the dining room from the living room and lit the flame, making sure it caught on the kindling before you shut the glass to protect the pristine home you kept from the smoke or flame. On your way back to the kitchen, you dimmed the dining room lighting down to a romantic glow and stopped by the record player to set one of your shared favourite records to play softly in the background. 

When the clock struck 5:00, you had just placed the roast on the table alongside the dishes of vegetables and salad and you hurried across the carpet floor towards the bar. Your apron was pulled off and tossed under the counter and out of sight and you quickly poured a perfect amount of golden liquor into a crystal glass and took it with you to the front door. The moment you reached the foyer, you had just a second to make sure you looked your best in the mirror by the door as the headlights flashed through the frosted glass window down the left hand side of the front door. 

The sound of footsteps on the front porch guided you to open the door with an eager smile, revealing your husband on the other side. In his work shoes and black jacket, his hand was tucked casually in the front pocket of his slacks with his briefcase in his other hand. He wore no tie but the buttoned up white shirt that you had ironed for him that morning was already slightly creased from his long day and would require laundering. But your attention was all focused on his perfectly gelled brown hair and his loving eyes that sparkled in the warm light that surrounded you. 

George was already smiling as if anticipating your usual greeting after a long day away and he stepped over the threshold of your shared home and set his briefcase by the door without tearing his eyes away from you for a second. 

“Welcome home, sunshine.” you said sweetly, offering out his drink. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered adoringly, stepping closer to you and he slid his hands around your waist to rest against the small of your back and he pulled you right up against him for a swift kiss. 

Your free hand easily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked you backwards farther into your house, the two of you sharing love-sick kisses after a long day apart. 

“How was your day?” you asked softly, when he pulled away from you for a half second to lick his lips.

“Absolute shit until now.” George whispered back, moving right in once more and he let one of his hands raise to cradle your jaw and guide your lips back on his. He lingered on your mouth for a second before his hand finally dropped to take his glass from you. 

“Then it’s a good thing I made your favourite.” you said, starting to unbutton his jacket for him as he sipped his drink all while staring at you and leading you both farther into the house and towards the dining room. 

“Mhm?” George blindly set his still half-full glass on the kitchen counter with a dull clink as you both passed by briefly so he could pull you back in for more kisses. 

You smiled against his mouth and your hands rested daintily against his chest as he leaned into you, expertly keeping up with the way his lips locked with yours in feverish kisses as if he had been too deprived of you. His large hands cascaded down your body and over your hips, steering you towards your perfectly set dinner table under the ambiance of the romantic music crackling from the record player and the fireplace flickering nearby.

“Cleaned the whole house for you too.” you continued between kisses even as your hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the crisply vacuumed carpet. 

“Yeah, it looks so good, darling.” George breathed into your mouth as his hands grabbed your thighs and he hiked you right up onto the end of the dining room table. 

In all reality, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the second you opened the door for him. The entire house could have been trashed and graffitied and he wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash because all his focus was on you. It had been that way for as long as you could remember - ever since he first laid eyes on you - and your honeymoon phase only followed you well into your first year of marriage. The whole neighbourhood knew that well. No one was as perfect for each other or as perfect together as you and George were.

Eyes locked, you were breathing heavily into each other’s open mouths as his hands helped themselves up your skirt and you shifted to help him tug your panties down your legs. They were easily tossed to the floor and George’s lips went for your neck, trailing impatient wet kisses down your skin until he was dropping to his knees at the head of the table. 

“Oh, I missed you.” you breathed to the ceiling as he bunched up your dress around your waist and then dragged his tongue right between your legs. Your sharp inhale had him doing it again before he was wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 

You fell onto your back against the table with a gasp, your hands knocking the salad bowl to the floor without concern as you messily caught yourself against the wood top. The simple touch of his mouth against your cunt had your breathing falling shallow and you gasped to the peaked ceiling of your mid-century home as you laid out on the dining table like you were dinner itself. 

George hummed gladly against your pussy as he warmed you up with filthy wet kisses. He acted like he had been deprived of you for weeks but in reality it had barely been twenty-four hours since you found yourself in a similar position. Your relationship really had nothing but strength in all aspects behind it. 

The feeling of his warm wet tongue gliding up flatly between your lips had your back arching off the table with a strangled gasp and your hands flew above your head to try and grab onto something, only knocking off the two place settings you had so meticulously set. The carpeted floor caught them delicately and without much of a sound but you were all too focused on the way George’s mouth felt to care about anything else. He lapped filthily at your clit as your breaths turned into moans and he nuzzled his face deeper into you, having craved you all day. 

“George-” you gasped to the ceiling, eyes screwing shut as he flicked his tongue over your clit in quick patterns. “Oh my God.” 

He moaned up against you and let his fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he held your legs over his shoulders hungrily, playing with your swollen clit until your toes were curling and your back was arching. The filthy slurps and smacks of his mouth and tongue against your pussy were arousing and they easily drowned out the sound of the gentle record player across the room, harmonizing perfectly with your breathless whimpers and moans that were all for him. 

He was ruthless with it, eating you out like he wholeheartedly craved you until you were writhing against the wood dining table. Your hands flew down to his head between your legs and your fingers raked through his styled brown hair to tug pleadingly on the roots to feel him closer, to feel more of him. Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you peered down your body towards him but the voluminous skirt of your dress hindered your view slightly. Instead, you let your head fall back against the table, your back arching, and you let him urge the moans from your chest. 

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, pulling at his hair harder. 

His tongue on your pussy had you quivering and he knew you like the back of his hand; always knowing right where you needed him and how to make you see stars. He tugged you a little closer to the edge of the table so he could get more of his mouth on you and his hands pried your thighs open wider, giving him full access to every inch of you. 

Your moans grew louder, pitchier, your hips trying to grind against his face as his tongue ravaged your clit mercilessly until you were flushing warm all over and aching for release. One of your hands reached above your head to grab the edge of the table, swatting the bowl of peas and carrots to the carpet blindly as you did so but you didn’t care. You were all too hung up on him and his perfect mouth. 

“Oh, darling-” you cried to the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum-”

George kept his tongue on your clit, lapping quickly at it at that same consistent pace that made you dizzy. Gasping and moaning through the romantic air, you let him take the pleasure from your veins until you were falling perfectly silent and your eyes rolled shut as your back arched helplessly off the table. 

George’s deep moan against you sent shockwaves up your spine as he licked and suckled at your cunt as you came for him, soaking his mouth in your creamy liquids that satisfied his cravings just so. You completely sobbed out his name once the height of your orgasm washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair to hold him against you just a little bit longer. He pulled away with a sharp inhale and a lick to his lips, standing up smoothly to let your legs fall gently back to the edge of the table. 

You brushed your hands over your once-tidy hair and peered down your body to where he stood at the head of the table unbuckling his belt with nothing but the strongest lust in his eyes. You hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and smeared your fingers through your messy cunt that was shimmering wet for him and from him. 

“Come here.” George ordered lowly as he kicked off his shoes across the carpeted floor and let his pants follow before he was sitting himself down on the stray dining chair, his hard cock standing stiff and swollen with need for you. 

You were still shuttering from your orgasm but you pushed yourself up from the tabletop and slid off the edge to land on your feet, your heels catching you silently against the carpet. He patted his thigh and then held out his hand to you, encouraging you over and helped you to toss a leg over his lap to straddle him. George shuffled up the large skirt of your dress and you helped him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor behind you, leaving you in only your bra and him in only his shirt as your lips found each other’s again. 

His hands groped your ass, pulling you closer to him hungrily as your lips smacked wetly together amid tongue-led kisses. Your arms around his shoulders allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair and you pulled his head closer until he was leaning into you to keep kissing you, sharing moans and breaths of nothing but pure erotica together. 

“Oh, baby.” you breathed out of your heated kisses, tilting your head back as his lips magnetized to your neck and your hands cradled his head adoringly. 

“I want you on my cock.” George spoke lowly against your neck, “I want you bouncing on my fucking cock.” 

“Yes, please.” you shifted on his lap to rise up slightly with your feet planted on either side of him and he reached down to angle his dick for you. 

With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sunk down on his dick to feel every inch of it stretching you out snugly. Mouth falling open, your thighs met his lap and you moaned shakily at the warm stretch he gave you, swirling your hips lazily to feel him everywhere. 

“Good girl, darling.” George praised, resting back against the chair with his hands securely on your hips. 

Right away, you began to bounce on him, using the anchor of your feet on the carpeted ground on either side of the dining chair to keep you supported. You leaned your head back with a gentle shake to get your hair out of your face but kept your hands on his shoulders with your fingers gripping onto the once ironed white fabric. 

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” George praised through his teeth. 

“Oh my God.” you groaned out shakily. 

You were addicted to the clap of your skin together; the filthy lewd sound that was proof of your undying love and devotion to each other. How you were the pair that everyone else envied. 

When your eyes met, you could feel your insides fluttering from only his stare and the stormy mixture of love and lust that settled behind his gaze. Fingers tangled in the back of his hair, you held him close as you greedily fucked yourself on his lap, completely salivating at the feeling of his generous cock sheathed so perfectly inside you. It was hard to keep your eyes open with the pleasure that surged within you but your husband’s stare was completely addictive. He stared at you like you were the world and with his hands on your hips, he helped you guide you through your bounces until you were choking out the sweetest moans. 

George pulled you close by your waist so you could rest right down against his chest and your arms went right around his shoulders, allowing you to share another sloppy kiss as your bounces moulded into purposeful grinds. You moaned into each other’s mouths as your pussy gripped around his cock with each roll of your hips, your feet still tucked in your heels looping around the back legs of the dining chair to five yourself some added leverage to help yourself to his body. Grinding on him back and forth, a little faster, you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, letting your head fall backwards and his lips found your neck. 

George’s hands groped your ass and he pulled you into your motions steadily, making sure you were able to feel all of each other as much as possible. His teeth sunk gently into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder and he groaned tightly against your skin as you ground down on him faster, harder, whining for more. He spanked your ass before gliding his hands up your back and he let his furrowed gaze find your face, staring at the pleasure that took over your features. Your hands gripped the back of his hair and the back of his shirt, rolling your body against his hungrily as your lips were drawn together again. 

Both of you shared hungry moans and sloppy kisses as you ground yourself down on his dick and rode him purposefully on the dining room chair. The dinner that hadn’t been swiped to the ground in your initial rush was growing cold on the serving dishes but the waste of your hard work was truly the last thing on your mind. Instead, your attention was taken up by your handsome husband and the feeling of his warm skin taking you over - body and soul. 

Breaking your wet tongue-led kiss with a whimpering gasp, your head fell back for a moment as your hips lead their course on his lap, fingers clutching his hair and his shirt as you swirled yourself back and forth on his dick and watched how his handsome face was stricken in pleasure. His hands on your waist urged you to shift again and you gladly moved back into steady bounces using the anchor of your heels on the carpeted floor. 

“Oh my God, George.” you choked out, keeping your eyes on his. “Yes.” 

His deep groans in time with every bounce of your body on his lap filled the warm romantic air between you, his hands gripping a little tighter to your hips to pull you down a little harder, a little faster. 

“Good girl.” he praised lowly. 

“Are you close?” you asked shakily. 

“Yeah, baby.” his voice was strained slightly and he stared down his body to watch how you took him all with every ungraceful stroke, his feet planted firmly on the carpet as he stayed slouched back against the dining chair. “Fuck.”

“I want you to come in me.” you breathed shakily. 

“Yeah?” George’s right hand rose from your waist to hold your jaw tenderly and his thumb slid into your mouth, “Want me to put a baby in you?” 

“Fuck- uh huh-“ you groaned through his thumb, shamelessly bouncing harder on his lap until your thighs were aching. 

“Mhm?” George’s eyes flicked between your face and his lap, watching you fuck yourself on him with his feet anchroed securely on the carpeted dining room floor. He had been waiting and dreaming for his homecoming all day, desperate for this exact moment. He knew all too well that you would never say no to him. You were equals but you were such a good wife. 

George pulled his thumb out of your mouth and slid his hand around the back of your neck to pull your forehead against his as he groaned into his orgasm. You squeezed your muscles tightly around him, making his face screw up in pleasure as his cock throbbed within the tight confines of your cunt and you finally were blessed with that first feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. You shuttered on top of him, grinding down strongly against his lap as you held each other close and met his timing almost perfectly. Your moans together were harmonious and perfect and your heart soared with adoration for him as your souls connected in the dim lighting of your shared home. 

“Fuck, darling-” George breathed out of it, holding you to his chest with his entire arms around your back, keeping you grinding against him as your orgasm tapered off. 

“Holy shit.” you whimpered quietly against his cheek, your fingers gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, your thighs trembling as you sat all your weight down on his lap to take the weight off your feet. 

His hands caressed your back and you moved to be able to meet his gaze as he asked cheekily, “So, how was your day?”

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his lips, “Amazing. Even more amazing now that you’re home.” 

“Missed you so much.” George admitted. 

“I can tell.” you smiled, scratching your fingers through the back of his hair. 

George tore his eyes away from your loving gaze so he could look towards the dining room table that was left in complete disarray from his rushed entry. He leaned forward slightly to rest his head against your shoulder and you kissed his head and ran your hand through his hair. 

“Sorry for, uh, ruining your dinner.” he whispered. 

“That’s okay. Worth it.” you assured him, “But you’re cleaning it up.”

“Okay.” he chuckled and raised his head from your shoulder to kiss your lips again. 

You took his face in your dainty hands, whispering between gentle chasté kisses, “I love you.”

George smiled peacefully, staring at your adoringly, “I love you.”

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw and your neck and his hands squeezed your ass to prompt you to get up. You moved cautiously as you stood from his lap, letting a thick drop of white slip out of you and onto his thigh and he leaned in to kiss your hip as his hands guided you off of him. 

“Any symptoms yet?” he asked gently as you bent down to grab your underwear and pull them on. 

“Don’t think so.” you answered with a shrug. 

“It’ll happen.” he almost promised. 

You stood between his legs and rested your forearms on his shoulders to lean in towards him, “Hopefully.” 

“It will.” his large hands caressed your thighs. 

You shared a soft kiss. 

George patted your bum, “Okay, go wash up. I’ll clean this mess and slice up that roast for us. Looks like it survived the chaos.” 

You kissed him once more and then slid out of his arms. Picking up your dress from the floor, you headed across the open living room and down the opposite hallway that turned towards the back of the house and led to your bedroom. You pulled out your nightgown from your dresser drawer and helped yourself to the pastel painted ensuite to freshen up, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

Once perfectly styled hair was falling out of its pins and your cheeks were flushed from more than just the light coat of foundation and blush that you had applied earlier that day. You felt giddy and warm and yet a tinge of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind as you turned to the side and ran a hand over the flat natural curve of your stomach. You had been trying for a baby for only four weeks but you were impatient for the next phase of your perfect life with your perfect husband and with every passing day, you only got more and more ansty. George promised it would happen when it happens but you were both so familiar with things coming so easily to the two of you that not having results instantaneously was almost tortuous. 

Returning to the main space of your single storey house, George was in the kitchen in only his underwear and half unbuttoned white dress shirt, tidying up the dishes and scraping the spilled food into the garbage. To anyone else, they might have been more than annoyed that their hard-work that went into making dinner had gone to unappreciated waste but it was never that serious to you. You lived to give George whatever he wanted and when all he truly wanted was you? Who were you to deny him that? 

You leaned against the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the space and watched George putter around for a moment before he saw you. He smiled over at you and then brought over the plate of sliced meat that he had taken from the table and cut up himself. Setting it between you, he picked up one of the pieces and fed it to you from his fingers. 

“Little cold now.” you chuckled softly. 

“Still good.” he complimented, taking a bite for himself. 

You stood on either side of the peninsula counter and shared the plate of your half-cold dinner, one of the candles from the table resting between you and still lit. Moments like that only rehashed the idea of your perfect imperfection that was you and him. 

“You look beautiful right now.”

You raised your eyes from the plate, slipping one more piece of meat into your mouth as you met his loving stare. 

With a bashful smile, you shrugged, and spoke through your small mouthful, “I’m just in my nightgown.” 

“I know.” George leaned over the counter and captured your lips with his in a swift kiss. 

You smiled against his mouth and raised a hand up to dust your fingertips over his jaw before you were gently pushing him away from your lips. He reached over to gently tug at your pouted bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before standing up straight again and kept your eye contact from across the counter. 

“I love you so much.” you whispered. 

“I love you more.” 

The faint crackling of the record player in the living room drew your attention across the open space of your modest house and George drifted around the counter and danced his hand over your waist on his way past you. You took another bite of your makeshift dinner and watched as he lifted the needle from the turntable to remove the record and slide it back into its case. Whistling happily in his half-dressed state, George skimmed your collection of records and pulled out a new one to place carefully on the turntable. 

The tune he kept was the same tune you had stuck in your head for a few days and you inquired, “My love, what song is that you’re whistling?” 

George glanced up at you from across the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth seeing you in the light of the kitchen behind your figure, and he looked back down to the record that he spun between his hands and then set it into its place on the turntable, “I dunno, darling. I think it’s just some random song.” 

“I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while now.” you explained, leaning back against the counter. 

“Mhm?” George seemed to shrug you off as he set the needle back on the record and the speaker crackled as it found its way into the groove. 

The house was filled with gentle romantic music and he turned up the volume as the voice of the vocalist flooded the space around you. George’s whistling moulded into the tune of the song playing and he did a little spin as he slunk his way saucily across the floor towards you. He climbed the three carpeted steps of the sunken living room and serenaded you with his rhythmic sways and motions as he approached you. You laughed softly at his goofiness and he held out his hands to you as he whistled along to the music. 

When you didn’t make a move to join him for a few seconds - just staring at him while leaning back against the counter with an adoring smile on your face - he requested of you simply, “Dance with me.” 

You pushed yourself away from the counter and set your hands in his, letting him pull you close to his body as he slid an arm around your waist and let his other hand stay holding yours beside you. He was the most angelic man you had ever seen and you set your hand around his shoulder as he guided you into gentle sways along with the music. 

You closed your eyes and melted into his chest, cheek to cheek, falling heavenly into the comfort of his embrace and the way his body moved with yours. His pitch perfect voice spoke right to your heart as he hummed quietly as you danced slowly in place within your cozy home, swaying to the rhythm of the record. With you in your nightgown and George in his underwear and dress shirt, you were perfectly domestic in that moment, the warmth in your heart swirling around the two of you wrapped as one. 

“Someday soon we won’t be able to do this.” George whispered to you.

The ominous nature of his statement had you shifting your head to look him in the eye, “What? Why?”

George just smiled sweetly and rubbed his thumb over the small of your back, “Because there’s going to be a baby growing between us soon. We’ll have to be a good arm's length apart.” 

You grinned back at him bashfully and leaned into him again so his lips pressed against your cheek for a quick kiss and then his head rested against yours. He led your gentle swaying on the plush carpet in the warm glow of the fireplace and your cozy home, only growing the adoring flutter in your heart. 

“I can’t wait.” you breathed. 

“Me neither.” George gave your joint hands a little squeeze. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” George found your lips with his, kissing away any of your anxieties surrounding the unknown future with his love that comforted you always. 

The ringing of George’s alarm clock woke you at dawn, just like any other weekday. He was cuddled up behind you in your spacious bed, wrapping you up in the warmth of the sheets and his embrace. You sighed deeply as you were forced into consciousness and as you shifted to stretch in George’s arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Morning, darling.” he mumbled sleepily, his alarm still ringing from his side of the bed. 

“Morning, sunshine.” you yawned, earning another cheek kiss from your husband before he was shifting away from you to reach over and swat off the alarm. 

You rolled after him under the blankets and as he turned back around from shutting off his clock, you draped yourself across his bare chest to admire him happily in the faint morning light that peeked through the sides of your curtains. He stroked your hair and you tapped your index finger against his lips before you leaned in to kiss them softly. He smiled at you and met you halfway for another. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” he lazily draped his arm around your back, “Did you?”

You nodded, still tired from your deep sleep you had just awoken from, and your gaze stayed focused on his familiar face. Reaching your hand up from his chest you caressed his cheek with your thumb and across his jaw that housed a faint dusting of hair that was in need of his daily morning shave. He moved his head slightly to press his lips against the pad of your thumb and you giggled adoringly and stretched your body out on top of his as if not wanting to let him get up. 

“Do you wanna stay in bed?” George asked. 

“With you?” you replied hopefully. 

“No.” he smiled sadly at you and stroked your hair again, “I gotta go to work and make some money for us and our future babies.” 

You bit back your smile but didn’t make a move to get off him, still staring lovingly at  his face.

“Okay?” he patted your bum over the blankets. 

You reached a hand up to gently scoop some sleep from the corner of his eye for him with your index finger and a soft melancholy hum and he scrunched his eyes closed and tried to turn away. You sighed dramatically and rested your chin on your hand against his chest to stare at him just a little longer before you would both have to get up. 

George’s finger traced the bridge of your nose and then plopped against your lips, tugging gently at the bottom one, whispering to you once more, “Okay?”

You nodded, breathing out a forced agreement, “Okay.”

You moved off of him and let him get out of bed and you watched from your cozy spot against the headboard as he trudged across the room and pushed open the curtains to let the tidal wave of early morning sun flood your four walls. Standing in the light in only his underwear, George was almost just a silhouette to you and as he stretched his arms above his head with a waking yawn and skimmed over your perfectly manicured backyard, you nearly swooned. As the man of your house, he made you weak by simply existing. How you adored him. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked across the bedroom towards the ensuite and, like every weekday morning, you let him get ready for his day without hassle. He naturally left the door open and you could see in the reflection of the mirror how he stripped out of his underwear into nothingness and then stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The water turned on and then his whistle followed, waking himself up in warm water a good tune. 

Now alone in your shared bed, you stretched your arms over your head and forced your limbs to wake up, the slight comfortable tension on your muscles forcing the reminisce of your evening reunion to leak out of you and into your underwear. The sheets had fallen down to your waist from George climbing out of bed and you dropped your hands to rest on your stomach with an impatient sigh, staring down at your soft skin exposed to the morning sunlight. Sleeping bare beside him to allow your skin to touch completely was your favourite way to sleep as you so easily learned after you wed and moved into your perfect home together. He always felt so close that way. 

When your bare feet hit the carpeted floor and you rose from the mattress, you reached for his white button up dress shirt that he had worn the previous day and had discarded to the chair in the corner of the room. Keeping yourself modest within your empty house, you buttoned up the bottom three buttons, and then straightened out the creased fabric in the full length mirror. 

You stopped by the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as you called out to your showering husband, “Darling love; I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Okay, sweetheart, thank you.” George called back through the water and patterned shower curtain. 

Your bare feet patted softly down the picture frame lined hallway that was bathed in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows opposite, and you turned into the main space of your house that had been silent from nightfall. You opened the curtains and turned on the radio to bring your house to life as you began the routine of your mornings. 

As usual, the weather was bright and clear and the sun had just barely made it above the horizon, meeting you outside in the backyard with refreshing crisp air and a wash of golden light, filtered only by the neighbouring houses and your clotheslines. The laundry that you had hung up the previous day was now perfectly dry and you unpinned one of the fresh white shirts that matched the one you were wearing and brought it back inside with you as the iron was heating up. The radio announcer spoke to the news of your uneventful town where the most interesting happenings consisted of shopping centre sales or the community pool being closed for cleaning. 

The ironing board was set up in the living room and you draped the clean shirt across it to be met with the steaming iron. The creases were steamed and ironed out of the fabric with ease and you found yourself humming that same mysterious tune as you worked, constantly stuck in your head. When the shirt was left neatly on the ironing board for retrieval by your husband, you continued on to the kitchen to put his lunch together and get breakfast started, letting the radio’s news mould into morning hits that livened your home with music. 

George joined you in the kitchen a few minutes later, lured from the bedroom by the smell of bacon and coffee in only his dress slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, his face shaved, and his brown hair already combed and gelled to perfection. At the sight of you in the kitchen in only his shirt and your little panties, George was grinning slyly and walking over to you at the stove. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face in your neck to kiss your skin. 

“Mm, good morning, beautiful woman.” he said lowly against the shell of your ear, the smoothness of his voice enough to butter your toast that morning. 

“Good morning, handsome.” you replied sweetly, setting your free hand that wasn’t holding a spatula against his around your middle as you leaned back into him to welcome his lips on yours in a few lingering kisses. When he broke your kisses, your eyes shamelessly skimmed his face and chest and you reached your hand up to touch his smooth jaw, “Mm, you look so yummy.”

“Says you in this little outfit, baby, goddamn.” George tisked, giving your ass a little two handed squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and he kissed your neck again. 

“You’re an easy man to please, my dearest.” you said as he drifted away from you across the space to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board. 

“You make it easy.” he praised right back as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up on his way back towards you.

He paused as he tucked the shirt into his pants and then stopped to open the front door and grab the newspaper from the porch. 

“Coffee’s in your mug already.” you told him as he shut the door again.

Returning to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, already skimming the headlines, he answered you haphazardly, “You’re a perfect woman, baby.”

“Perfect for you, George Russell, and don’t you forget it.” you waved the spatula at him from across the kitchen and he smiled over at you as he lifted his steaming mug of coffee up to his lips for a sip. 

He stood at the island with the newspaper laid out before him and he skimmed the stories and articles as he tied his tie around his neck and set his collar down neatly and flipped through the pages as he sipped his morning coffee. You cracked farm fresh eggs into the skillet beside the bacon, watching how the grease sizzled and crackled as breakfast cooked, filling the kitchen with aromas that made your stomach growl. As the pan was left cooking, you tended to the toast in the toaster that had just popped and you placed the perfectly browned slices on a plate. 

“What is your plan today, darling?” George asked you, his eyes following you as he sipped his coffee and left the newspaper open in front of him. 

“The girls and I are going to go shopping.” you answered casually as you buttered each slice of toast. “I’m thinking my wardrobe needs a bit of a refresher but I already have a dress in mind for tonight that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet so I won’t need to buy anything new for that today. I had my eye on this set that was in the window of the department store this week - these gorgeous blue shorts and a matching blouse.”

“Blue is your colour, baby.” 

“Is that why your eyes never leave me?” you flirted smoothly.

Said blue eyes - the very ones you fell in love with - winked at you over the brim of the coffee mug. You smiled widely and cut the slices of toast in halves diagonally before delivering them to where George stood at the island. 

“Make sure anything you buy is put on my card.” he reminded you. 

“I know, I know. That’s all they allow us to do anyway.” you tisked and returned to the stove. “I must say, every time one of the employees greets me with a ‘good morning, Mrs. Russell’ or a ‘is that all for today, Mrs. Russell’ I swear my heart skips a beat.” 

George chuckled lightly at your swooning over your shared name as he took a bite of toast and then spoke through it, “It’s been a good few months now, sweetheart. Still not used to it?”

“I’m used to it.” you assured him. “I just love it.” 

He just smiled down to the newspaper. 

“I might attend a ballet class this afternoon too.” 

“Oh?” George looked over at you again, “Does that mean I get to see you in a leotard and a little tutu?”

You rolled your eyes at him teasingly as you plated the bacon and eggs from the pan, “Don’t push your luck, mister.” 

He leaned in towards you as you joined him at the island with your two plates, promising with a quiet, “I’ll be good.”

“You’re always good.” you whispered right back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before setting the plates in front of you both. 

You ate breakfast together over the newspaper and distant noise of the radio, feeding each other bites of bacon and toast and trying not to spill egg on his perfectly crisp clothes. Soon it was time for him to leave for the day and he grabbed his lunch tin that you had set earlier on the counter peninsula and you hurried over to get between him and the door. 

“Wait,” you set your hands on his chest as he nearly walked right into you, “I forgot to tell you-”

“Mhm?” George encouraged you on with a little amused smile, already knowing what was coming after this almost daily routine…only made more insistent on the mornings that came after an evening with perfect heavenly love making. 

“You can’t go to work.” you told him, even as he started walking slowly towards the door, forcing you to take slow steps back in time with him. 

“Why not?” he pressed, his lips grazing yours with how close you stood. 

“You don’t feel well, remember?” you slid your hands over his shoulders. 

“Oh, I don’t?” 

“No.” you licked away your smile as he had you in the foyer now, “And you need to stay home so I can cuddle you and kiss you and tend to you and nurse you back to health.”

“Oh, I see.” George blindly lifted his jacket from the hook by the door, all without tearing his eyes away from yours, “And your shopping plans?”

“Canceled for you, my love.” you answered easily, sliding your arms around his waist as he pulled his jacket on and you leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “So we should get you into bed.”

“We should?” George had you against the front door and you stood guard in front of it to prevent him from leaving. 

“Yes.” you smiled sweetly at him with your lightly frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt of his you wore. 

It would have been so easy for him to fall into your little trap and stay home with you all day - it was near impossible for him to say no to you and especially so when you looked like a golden angel in the sunlight that bathed the house. Instead, he reached a hand up and caressed your cheek and then leaned in to kiss your lips once, twice, and then lingered there for a third before pulling away. 

“I got to go, darling.”

Pouted in lighthearted defeat, you slunk out of his way so he could open the front door and you followed after him onto the porch, stopping him by the arm for one more kiss. 

“I love you.” you said. 

“I love you.” he smiled back, his eyes glancing up and down your figure and once more across your face as if memorizing you completely, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you let your hand fall from his arm and you watched him walk down the front porch steps and around to the drivers side of his shiny car. 

The other men on your little street were also saying their goodbyes to their wives and getting into their cars like clockwork but your attention was only on your husband and the way he checked his hair in the rearview mirror before sliding his sunglasses on. He caught your gaze once more and blew you a kiss before turning the key in the ignition. 

With the rumble of the engine, you took one more step down the front porch in only his white buttoned shirt and blew him a kiss back, letting your hand stay outstretched in a gentle wave as he backed out of the driveway alongside the other men. Then, like a little parade, they made their way down the street in a single file row and out of sight. 

Sitting around in the comfy chairs of the classy department store, you and your friends sipped champagne and discussed your mornings and the ballet class you had just returned from. 

“It was more of a workout than I had thought!” one of the ladies expressed. 

“Such beautiful dancing though. Do you think they’ll have us perform a show by the end of the season? I would love to be able to show my husband all that we do!” 

“Oh, that would be so nice!”

“We should put in a request.” 

“My husband does not so much as care about what I do, I must admit.”

“Being one of the most important men in business, it’s fair to say he’s tired when he gets home every night.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind some attention from him.”

As your friends gossiped about their husbands and their home lives, you set your drink flute on the glass coffee table and stood from your chair to browse a few of the near-by racks. In a blue floral dress that swayed around your knees with every step, you held that soft tune on your lips as you gently swiped through each clothing option with the tags labeled without prices. The women never had to bother with money, it was just one way that life was made less stressful in your little picturesque neighbourhood. 

One of the ladies spoke a little louder so you could hear, “All of us seem to have things we wish to improve in our marriages and then there are the Russells who could not be any more perfect if they tried.” 

With a skirt in hand that you were admiring, you glanced over to your friends who all had knowing looks directed your way. You smiled and shook your head, “I wouldn’t call us perfect. No one is perfect.” 

“Oh, but you’re pretty close.” one of the ladies said before turning to the rest of the group, “You won’t believe the things I hear from even the next house over. It’s like their honeymoon phase lasts for months.” 

“Okay.” you laughed to try and brush her off as you set the skirt back on the rack beside you.

Another one of your friends added smoothly, “You won’t be fitting in these dresses much longer by the sounds of it then.”

The first friend only continued, “I know! If you two aren’t pregnant soon I think there must be something wrong with the universe.”

The rest of your small group agreed easily. 

“Yeah.” you added, “We’ve only been actively trying for a few weeks but-”

“More like six months by what we hear next door.”

“Okay.” you hushed her with a bashful blushing smile and you turned back to the rack to skim through some more clothes. You tried not to let their innocent excitement for you get under your skin but you were anxious and impatient and wanting a baby more than anything. It hadn’t been very long but when it was the thing you prayed for most in the world, each passing hour felt like a lifetime. 

You tried on the outfit you had been eyeing in the change room - that blue full skirt and matching blouse - and although it fit you like it was tailored for you, you silently wished it didn’t fit. You craved the growth of life inside you and it never seemed to leave the forefront of your mind. 

Regardless, you let your anxieties out with some retail therapy as you set your blue outfit on the cash desk along with a few more casual dresses and shoes. The man behind the counter rung up your items and folded them into tissue paper and set them in a box with a neat little bow. 

“Will that be everything today, Mrs. Russell?” he asked routinely. 

You glanced across the counter to him, “Yes, thank you.” 

“Wonderful. I will charge it to your husband’s account.” he held out the box to you, “We hope to see you again soon. I couldn’t help but overhear that it may be in our maternity department?”

You offered a polite smile and thanked him quietly as you took your box and returned to your friends who were getting ready to leave with their own purchases. Upon joining up with your little group again, you all emerged out into the sunny afternoon to make your way towards the trolley, discussing your evening in terms of your planned outfits for the neighbourhood dinner that was to be hosted at the lavish event hall in town. Your friends spoke excitedly about the dressed they had picked out and their hopes that their husbands would match their excitement at least partially. It was always nice to have a night off when you didn’t need to have dinner ready for the men’s homecoming - or so your friends touched upon. To you, everyday meant simply looking forward to George being home, regardless of what you had prepared or not. You liked to tend to him and you did so gladly. 

That day, however, you felt drained. Your physical body seemed to be taking after your emotional state in that sense and by the time the trolley stopped at the end of your street and let you off and you shared quick ‘see you tonight’s with your friends as you parted ways onto your own properties, you were ready to sit down. 

The house felt so quiet and empty when you were there alone and although it never usually bothered you, this afternoon only raised that looming loneliness that had been festering inside you. Trying to calm yourself down, you hummed that same gentle tune that had been stuck in your head and walked slowly down your hallway and into your master bedroom. After your morning tidy, the bed had been already made and any laundry was put away in the hamper, leaving a spotless room for you to set your shopping box down on the pulled tight sheets. With a hum on your lips, you helped yourself to the ensuite and ran a bath in the teal porcelain alcove tub, your gaze drifting over the alarm clock on the bedside table as the water filled and you stripped out of your dress and heels. George was expected home in just over an hour and you would have to be ready for him then so all he had to do was put on his formal jacket and dress shoes and you could be out the door and on your way to the party right away. 

The steaming bath water forced a sigh from your chest as you lowered into it and relaxed back against the edge. Your eyes closed peacefully and you rested your head back against the wall to give yourself a moment to ease your tensions that seemed to riddle your body that week, your hair still tied half-up with a ribbon that matched your day dress. In a few moments you would have to get up but you breathed yourself into relaxation to make the most of your quiet day. 

You were woken to a gentle touch to your shoulder and your eyes flew open with a surprised gasp, the barely-warm water sloshing around your body as you startled. George was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his work clothes, his expression a mix between surprise and love, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

“I was worried where you were when you didn’t meet me at the door.” he chuckled softly. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you asked worriedly, your features expressing your unrest easily. 

“Just after 5:00.” George answered. 

“Oh my- I’m sorry- I was supposed to be ready to go-“ you started to get up but he set a gentle hand on your shoulder to keep you in the water a little longer. 

“It’s okay, darling. There’s no rush. We still have a whole hour.” 

George dipped down to kiss your lips and your stress lines melted into a tender smile at his touch and you leaned up from the tub to kiss him again gladly. When you sat back again, he just stared at you for a few long seconds, a calm smile on his face. The intensity of his blue eyed stare always had you needing to look away and you smiled shyly down to the bath water. 

George broke your silence with a soft, “You look gorgeous.” 

You leaned your head back against the wall again so you could look at him, admitting quietly, “I missed you today.” 

“I missed you too.” George stroked your hair before he was getting up from the wide of the tub, “I bought you something on my way home.” 

Your attention was peaked, watching him walk hurriedly out of the ensuite and out into your bedroom, “You did?”

He came back in with a garment bag and a beaming grin and he unzipped it to reveal a royal blue evening dress with a straight neckline, short dainty sleeves, and a matching bow around the waist. You bit back your smitten grin at the excitement of your selfless husband and you leaned your arms on the edge of the tub to admire the stunning new dress, careful to not touch it with your wet hands. 

“Sweetheart,” you breathed adoringly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you in it…I just had to stop and pick it up for you. You’re gonna look beautiful tonight.” George gushed as he hung the hanger up on the shower curtain rod. He started to untie his tie from around his neck as he talked on, “And I even grabbed myself a matching tie from the store while I was there just so we can match tonight. I know you always like that even if you might not always admit it.” 

You rested your cheek down against your folded arms on the tub edge and admired him shamelessly as he stepped back into the bedroom again only to return to the bathroom mirror with a royal blue tie that matched the colour of your new dress perfectly. He draped it around his neck and popped his collar so he could tie it as he spoke to you. 

“Come on, darling, come get ready.” 

You always loved going out with him and especially having any excuse to dress up but the whirling of your mind was distracting and you caught yourself suddenly swallowing back tears. You dropped your face into the crook of your arm and let out a shaky exhale to try and regain your composure. 

“Hey,” George’s gentle voice got closer and soon he was crouching beside the tub, reaching out a loving hand to caress your damp shoulder, “what’s wrong, my love?”

You sniffled and raised your head up again to meet his concerned gaze and you shrugged, mouthing a silent and passive, “I dunno.”

“Mm mm.” George shook his head gently, “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want a baby.” you whispered. 

“I know.” George let out a faint chuckle at your obvious confession but his expression stayed serious as he took in your obviously distressed state. His hand stroked over your head and into the damp ends of your hair that had grazed the water in your bath.

“I want one now.” you continued quietly. 

“I know. That’s why we’re working so hard.” he nudged your cheek teasingly with his knuckle.

You barely offered him a smile, “I’m scared it won’t happen.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why’s that?” 

You shrugged, “Because if it hasn’t happened yet then what if it never will?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” George tisked and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “It’s still early…it’s been barely a month-”

“But we weren’t even really being safe before that. How did it not already accidentally happen?”

“I dunno.” he chuckled, “But that’s okay. I am in no rush. We have our whole lives together and it’s only been a little while of trying and I’m not giving up yet. I’m not giving up on us or our babies, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded. 

“So don’t worry, darling. Don’t stress yourself out over this because you’re just going to make yourself crazy with worry.”

“I want to give you a family.” you mumbled sadly. 

“You are my family.” George promised and leaned in to kiss your temple. “You’re all I need to be happy.”

“I love you.” you whispered, turning your head slightly to urge his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you.” he kissed you once more before he was standing up and offering out his hands to you, “Now let’s get you out of this bathtub and into that dress so you can be the most breathtaking woman at the party.” 

The event hall was located near the centre of town and was decorated lavishly for the evening party that was to be hosted there. George parked on the street and even at the slight distance you were from the venue, the lights and music still made their way down the sidewalk and lured you in eagerly. With your hair curled and pinned to perfection and in your brand new gown purchased by the hands of your husband, you already felt like a million bucks, only eased more by the reassurance that he offered you only an hour earlier. He was truly all you needed and anything more was just a perfect treat. 

Your hand rested daintily in the crook of his elbow as he led you both into the loud and boisterous hall and right away, other partygoers were greeting you over the music and noise. Butlers passed by with platters of horderves and George snagged you both a small serving each on the way to your table. Right up near the front, your reserved table was awaiting you, and a few of your friends were already there and in their seats, mingling and drinking. 

At the sight of you, your friends had plenty to say about your matching dress and tie and the way you just looked so perfect together. Friendly cheek kisses were shared by the ladies and the men exchanged handshakes and everyone was arranging themselves in their seats that were labeled with golden calligraphy name tags. George pulled out your chair for you and helped you take your seat in your spot before he was leaning down with his hands on your shoulders to let you know he was going to the bar to order some drinks. You reached up one hand to pat over his in acknowledgement and he leaned down to kiss your cheek before disappearing through the crowd with a few of the husbands. 

“Oh he is enamoured by you.” one of your friends gushed from across the table. 

“And this dress is stunning!” another reached over to touch your sleeve. 

“He picked it out.” you admitted - only slightly bragging, “Came home with it today and said he needed to buy it for me because he kept picturing me in it.” 

The girls swooned over that, lighthearted jealousy filling the air. 

“You two are too cute.” another one of the women said, “It’s a known fact that the Russells are all too perfect.”

“Yep. Makes me sick!” another joked. 

The one on your right nudged your arm gently, leaning in to say quietly while still being heard over the band playing, “Did you hear that your husband might be getting a promotion tonight?” 

Your eyes widened, “No. I didn’t hear that. Is it true?”

She nodded, “My husband heard at work. Apparently George has been doing an excellent job…he’s so dedicated, y’know? The mayor is so impressed.” 

“It’s a surprise?” you questioned. 

“Think so. But I don’t even know if it’s 100% true so don’t go saying anything anyway. I know you two have no secrets between you and all.”

You pretended to lock your lips with your fingers and throw away the imaginative key and you shared quiet giggles. 

The men returned shortly after and George set your drink down on the table in front of you before he was unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and then sitting down beside you with his own drink. His hand rested on the back of your chair while his eyes took in the party around you from the crowded tables of neighbours to the impressive height of the floral centerpieces on each, sipping his drink calmly. You set your hand on his thigh as you took to your own drink, naturally keeping him within arms reach at all times even if the attention was on the conversation at your table. 

It wasn’t long before the performers were introduced to the crowd and the stage was filled with female dancers, their costumes not leaving much to the imagination other than streaks of glitter and sparkle covering them scandalously. The music guided them and the men cheered loudly as the women watched politely, you among them. But George wasn’t looking at the stage. Instead, his head was turned away from the show just so he could stare at you instead. 

Cluelessly, you sipped your drink and watched the show, unknowing to the way his attention was focused all on you. A calm smile rested on his lips and his eyes took in every inch of your face as you sat at his side so effortlessly. When his hand dropped to your lap and he gave your knee a squeeze, you finally looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him already staring at you. 

George leaned in towards you and you met him halfway so he could whisper against your ear behind the loud show music playing through the spacious room, “Wanna come get some air with me?”

You smiled innocently at him and set your drink back on the table as your silent agreement. 

He got up first from his chair and took your hand to guide you after him, moving smoothly away from your table without wanting to interrupt the show. Your friends only shared knowing glances among themselves at the sight of the two of you sneaking off. You didn’t necessarily know you were that predictable to outsiders. 

The music from the ballroom muffled as you emerged into the hallway and let the double doors close behind you, having a moment alone in peace of just the two of you. George spun you under his arm and then pulled you right up against his body, sliding his arm around your waist lovingly as his lips found yours with ease. You raised your hands up to the side of his neck to hold him there, gladly letting him kiss you deeply within the rush of escaping the crowded party. 

George pulled away from your lips only to whisper honestly to you, “You really are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

You caressed his smooth jaw with your thumbs, “All thanks to this dress you picked out.”

“Your beauty requires no thanks to me.” he corrected smoothly, taking your hands from his face to hold in his own and he started to walk backwards to pull you after him towards the washrooms. 

You walked after him giddily, only pulling your hands from his grasp and falling against his chest with your arms around his shoulders as he backed into the empty women’s washroom. In the formal setting of the ballroom, the washroom was designed just as lavishly and the mirror framed lounge with a central circular sofa welcomed you warmly. Your lips found his again and he blindly locked the door behind you before spinning you both around and leading you farther into the elegant room. 

You could never get enough of his lips and even as he licked his way into your mouth, you were still pulling at the back of his neck to feel him closer, moaning softly into his kiss. George’s hands slid down your body and over your hips and ass and his dress shoes scuffed over the marble floor as he guided you towards the small make-up counter across the room. Often used for ladies to excuse themselves from the party to freshen up their lipstick or blush at the built-in vanity, it was now taken as a place for George to press you up against in the most erotic way, sending your heart in your throat and between your legs in eager anticipation. Only the simplest of touches from your husband sent you spiralling. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed into his mouth as your kiss broke for him to focus on shuffling up your voluminous skirt. 

Both already breathing heavily, your mouths were open in lust as lips brushed tauntingly and you shared air together. Your hands held onto his biceps over the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket and his warm hands snapped the waistband of your lacey panties against your waist. You giggled and he lowered to a crouch in front of you, holding up your skirt in one hand as his other started to pull down your underwear and his lips trailed after them in slow open-mouthed kisses across your skin. His gelled hair wasn’t easy to get your hand in without ruining it completely so you settled for resting your hands on the cold vanity countertop that you were resting back against the edge of. 

George stood back up and in one smooth motion, his lips were capturing yours in a filthy kiss. You let one arm toss around his shoulders as you kissed him back hungrily, pulling hearty moans from his throat at the way you melted into each other and he shoved your underwear in his pants pocket. His hand took its place under your skirt and pressed right down against your clit, making your next breath shutter. 

“Fuck-”

George swallowed up your words with his mouth, tasting the way you swore at his touch, locking his pillowy lips with yours perfectly. He stroked your clit lazily with his fingertips and soon had you trying to grind against his hand as he stood between your legs and was nearly leaning into you over the vanity. 

You tilted your head back to break your kiss with a exhale, “George-”

Breathing in time with each other into each other’s mouths, you held him close around his shoulders as he made you wet with ease; like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His lustful eyes were on yours, unwavering, glimmering in the warm light of the circular mirrored room you found yourselves in, companion only to the muffled music from the party across the hall. 

His fingers moved a little faster against your clit and his attention was focused all on your face as he watched the way your expression changed for him, your nose scrunching up in pleasure and your eyebrows furrowing slightly with the moan that reverberated in your chest. He stopped suddenly, forcing a gasp from you, and his fingers slowed right down to rub over your pussy instead, smearing around the sweet wetness that pooled out of you by his very own touch. 

“Fuck, you get wet for me so easy, my good girl.” he praised into your mouth, his body pressed right up against yours. 

“I’m yours.” you promised him. 

“Uh huh?” he swirled his fingers around your clit again, taunting you, “Do you want me to put a baby in you, darling?”

“Fuck, yes please.” you rushed out. 

“Want me to make you a mommy? Say it.” 

��Please put a baby in me, George.” you pleaded, tugging at his tie to try and pull his lips on yours again, your legs spreading wider to urge his touch where you craved him. “Let me make you a daddy.”

“God damn, you’re so perfect.” George groaned, rubbing messily at your clit again. 

A pleasurable shriek fell from your throat and your head tossed back blissfully, welcoming his lips to your neck in feverish kisses that he moved right up under your ear to make you shiver. His fingers created the perfect friction against your aching clit and you ground against his touch, desperate for more. You always wanted more. 

“Baby, please.” you breathed to the ceiling, “Please fuck me. Please cum inside me. I need you so fucking bad.” 

George pulled his hand out from under your skirt so he could shove off his black jacket and he tossed it behind him to hopefully land on the couch in the middle of the room. Neither of you cared enough to watch where it went because then he was unbuckling his belt and you were shuffling up your skirt some more and draping your hair over one shoulder as the heat was already rushing over your body. You didn’t separate for long and even still he stood so close to you at the counter that you could breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes locked, hearts beating as one. 

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the counter as your hands pulled his lips back on yours for more kisses. George’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to him and the feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips had your body arching into him hungrily. You reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his dick and gave it a few impatient strokes, feeling how it only stiffened up more at your touch. It felt like you were in a rush, driven by lust and desire, and George nudged your legs open wider so he could step right up to the vanity, at the perfect height to let the head of his cock nudge against your sensitive clit. 

“Don’t tease me, you asshole.” you giggled breathily, earning a soft laugh from your husband as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You held onto his biceps as he carefully fed his thick cock into your leaking cunt, sheathing so snugly inside you that both of your mouths fell open in unison, eyes locking. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” George whispered against your lips, sliding a hand around the small of your back to urge you a little closer to the edge so he could get as deep as possible. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled shakily, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and your arms slung around his shoulders to pull his lips on yours. “Oh my God.”

You shared deep sloppy kisses as he started to thrust into you slowly and your moan against his lips had his eyebrows furrowing in filthy bliss. He broke your kiss for a moment to look at your face before dropping his gaze down between you, lifting up the hem of his dress shirt out of the way even if your skirt was still covering most of it. You tilted his head back up to look at you desperately, wanting to find the love in his eyes, and he thrusted into you a little faster as your gaze sent him spinning. 

You breathed in time together, wrapped up together on the vanity counter, and as George’s feet stayed planted securely shoulder width apart in his dress shoes against the polished marble floor, he had the ability to take you as he wanted you right then and there. His lips pressed to your jaw in fleeting kisses as he held your body close and fucked you faster, desperate to feel more of you. 

Your head fell back with a moan and he helped himself to your neck, holding you in place on the edge of the counter. As the seconds passed, he only got more desperate, thrusting into you faster, harder, holding your body against his in that gorgeous blue dress he bought for you. 

“George-“ you cried out softly, clinging onto him, spreading your legs wider for him so he could get deeper. Your manicured fingernails grasped the back of his dress shirt around his waist, crumpling the once perfectly ironed material in your fist as your heels dropped from your feet one and then the other, landing on the marble floor with a sharp thud. 

“Good girl.” George praised against your cheek, his large hands caressing your thighs and your back as he held you close to his body. 

Your eyes were focused over his shoulder to the wall opposite you, hung up on the reflections that the mirror-framed room offered you of all angles. It was possessive to watch like that, how your arms and legs were wrapped around him completely, fingers of one hand drifting into the back of his brown hair as his warm breath was panted against your neck in time with his quick thrusts. It made you salivate with desire for the man you loved more than life itself. 

“Oh my God-“ you moaned out for him, dizzy on the sound of his skin clapping filthily with yours as the luxurious bathroom muted the distant sounds of the loud party music through the ballroom. Your hand tightened in his hair as he fucked the whimpers out of you, igniting warmth over your skin. “Just like that, baby, please-“

“Wanna cum for me?” George asked lowly against your cheek. 

“Yes, please.” you huffed out shakily. “Please make me cum.” 

“Yeah?” George grabbed your thighs to spread you a little wider, making you hold your legs open by linking them over his forearms as his hands took your hips to hold you in place. 

Your pleading hands pulled his lips on yours by the back of his head, sharing filthy tongue led kisses between your pants and moans together as he drew you both closer. Both of you were completely ignorant to the muffled speech going on back in the ballroom, too hung up on each other. Tossing your head back with an overwhelmed moan to the ceiling, your hands dropped behind you to the countertop and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. 

The skirt of your dress bunched around your middle and his hands were buried underneath it to hold you by the waist at the edge of the vanity, fucking you deliciously until that warmth was tightening in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him lustfully, you basked in the pleasure he brought to you so easily, giving him the sweetest moans that helped him closer to the conclusion you needed from him. 

“Cum inside me.” you whispered to him longingly. 

George stared back at you strongly, thrusting into you steadily as he taunted you with words that sent you whirling, “Want me to put a baby in you, darling? Cum so fucking deep inside you until you’re completely knocked up?”

“Fuck me.” you groaned through your teeth, your voice wavering, “Please, George. Please knock me up. Please give me your babies. Please, please, please-“

“Uh huh-“ he spoke over your soft begging, holding you by your waist as close as he could so he could hit as deep as possible, making your toes curl in midair. 

You tugged the skirt of your dress up and got your fingers on your swollen clit to rub quickly at that spot, desperate for those incredible waves of pleasure that came to you only alongside your darling husband. Your head fell back with a gasping groan, your pussy squeezing down around him snugly as your orgasm approached quickly and you mouthed his name to the mirrored room in a whisper. 

So many reflections to watch your sneaky rendezvous but George was only staring at the real you right in front of him, watching how you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you, “Let go for me, darling. Take the fucking cum out of me. Take it.”

Your fingers rubbed quickly at your clit, pulling the air from your lungs as your body gave itself to him completely, pushed over the edge by the way he thrusted into you so perfectly. You tensed up around him and he groaned lowly between you as the pulsing flutters of your pussy radiated bursts of pleasurable sensations up his spine. You came for him with a cry of his name, your eyes staring back at his handsome face as your expression wavered with overwhelm. 

George only fucked you faster, desperately chasing that sweet conclusion that would bring you both closer together. You slung your arms around his shoulders as you shuttered against his body with the intense pleasure that radiated over every inch of you. He shifted to get your legs back around your waist and he held you as close as possible as he thrusted into you sloppily. 

“Hold onto me.” he whispered strongly, urging your hands to cling onto the back of his shirt to keep you together as close as possible. Your ankles linked together behind his waist and your heels pressed into the flesh of his bum to keep him nice and deep as his breathing grew shallower. 

He was coming seconds later, nearly slumping into you as your arms held each other close and he forced himself as deep as he could get inside you. His moans were beautiful and you breathed him into your senses greedily as he was all yours. You took every drop he gave you, grinding against his body to pull more out of him with how badly you wanted it, whispering little breathy yeses against his cheek in time with his final few precise thrusts. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed. 

“Mm.” George dusted a fleeting kiss to your neck as he stood up straight again. 

You held onto his biceps as he pushed up the hem of your dress to allow you both to watch him pull out slowly. His dick was slick in the mixture of both of your love and he was softening slowly in the warm air of the ballroom bathroom. He grabbed your thighs to spread your legs nice and wide and you leaned back on your hands with a sultry little smile as he stared down at your pussy and licked his lips at the sight of the thick white cream dripping back out. 

“Keep it in there.” he ordered quietly. “Keep your legs up for a bit.” 

“Mhm.” you rested back against the vanity mirror and kept your legs up, clenching your muscles tightly to keep everything in for as long as he wanted you to. 

George leaned in to kiss your lips a few times, bringing a loving smile to your face at his obvious adoration that was even more apparent in the way he looked at you when you separated. 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

“I love you so much.” you replied quietly. 

He drifted away from you to tuck himself back into his slacks and he buckled his pants up again and you watched him redress peacefully, always one to linger on the domesticity of it all. George retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it onto the centre sofa and he shrugged it back on and buttoned the two buttons once more. 

Staring at him from your spot atop the vanity, you felt your heart swell with undeniable love for him, tears brimming in your eyes with the overwhelming concept that he was yours for life and that you were aiming to make a family together. He was all you wanted, even if you wanted more of him. 

Dedicated to the growth of your family, you let your legs ache as you kept them raised and spread, willing to do anything for the cause. George stopped by one of the mirrored walls of the circular room and let that same tune play on his lips as he tended to his hair and made sure it was gelled back down and away from his face, no remnants of your fingers in it. He then returned to you and situated himself between your legs, sliding his hands up your skirt that hid you modestly and he caressed your warm skin. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. 

“Little dizzy.” you admitted, your head resting back against the mirror, “But I’m so good.” 

“Dizzy?”

“Mhm. You made me cum really hard.” you giggled. 

George smiled, his momentary concern melting into a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You shared whispered ‘I love you’s before he was helping you to lower your legs and guide you off the counter. On wobbly legs, you held onto his forearms and took a second to steady yourself until you were able to stand straight on your own. George pressed a kiss to your temple and then pulled your underwear from his pocket for you to put back on. You held onto him as you carefully pulled them up your legs under your dress and then slid on each of your heels one at a time.  

“Okay?” he asked. 

You smiled at him and nodded, blinking away the slight dizziness that lingered. You had a party to return to after all. 

When you returned to the ballroom hand in hand, the mayor was on the stage with the microphone in hand, addressing the crowd. It was otherwise quiet as if they were missing something but almost the exact moment you walked through the doors, the spotlight was on you. You raised a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright white light and George guided you slowly back towards your table as the mayor called you out by name. 

“There they are! The Russells have made their return!”

Blushing furiously with the entire town’s attention on you, you clung tighter onto George’s hand and followed close beside him to your table. 

On the stage, the mayor wasn’t done, “I have to admit that I am quite proud of these two’s dedication to helping our community to grow into the next generation. I’m sure it won’t be long until we can welcome another child into our perfect little paradise, isn’t that right?”

The crowd cheered loudly with applause and you nearly felt faint, the spotlight following you through the crowd. George’s hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you onto your chair again. 

The mayor continued, speaking into the microphone as his other hand gestured out towards the two of you, “In your absence, George, you missed my most important announcement of the night.” 

George offered him a tight smile as he sat back down beside you with a polite, “Awfully sorry about that, Frank.”

“No, no.” the mayor assured him, “I understand that you take your job as man of the house just as seriously as you take your job with us here.” 

Your dizziness was only growing into a sweat at your brow and you dabbed your napkin from your place setting gently at your temples to try and tame your rising temperature. Maybe it was the warm spotlight, you assumed, or the attention of the entire neighbourhood being focused on you that made you nervous but you really weren’t feeling too well. 

George was looking up to the nearby stage as the mayor addressed him directly, meaning his back was almost completely towards you. You set a clammy hand on his shoulder. 

The mayor continued, “Which is exactly why I wanted to bring up your dedication to your service to us and your ability to live with the morals and values of our dear community at the forefront of your mind.” 

You leaned towards George’s shoulder, whispering shakily to him, “Baby, I don’t feel too well.” 

He glanced at you briefly before the mayor drew his attention with a call of his name. 

“George Russell,”

Your forehead slumped against his shoulder blade, “I wanna go home.”

George shifted to let you lean on his shoulder and your arm naturally wrapped pleadingly around his, warmed by the blinding light of the spotlight. 

The mayor was unphased by your obvious distress as he continued addressing your husband directly, “it is with great pride that I would like to offer you a position with some of us in headquarters. It will come with more responsibility but I’m sure the pay increase will be beneficial when it comes to any little additions to your family.”

George’s attention was torn between this surprise news of an offered promotion and the way that you were nearly limp against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you protectively but his gaze was still politely focused on the stage. 

“I really want to go home.” you repeated shakily to him. 

Your friends were oblivious, too excited about the proper announcement that was now given to the man it was directed towards under the blinding lights of the decorated ballroom. You felt faint. 

“What do you say, George?” the mayor asked loudly, his voice booming across the spacious ballroom. “Will you live up to the kind of man we know you can be?”

“George.” you whispered pleadingly, too out of it to even really know what was going on. “Please, can we go?” 

George glanced at you briefly before looking back up to the stage and the expectant faces of his co-workers and mayor. He nodded to him quickly, “Yes, thank you. I would love to accept the offer.” 

The crowd broke into applause and with the chaos that it brought, George turned to you quickly and grabbed your purse from the table before standing up. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.” 

He helped you out of your chair as the spotlight drifted elsewhere across the bustling party and your friends gave you odd stares at your sudden change and out-of-character distress. George, riddled with worry, wrapped his arm around your waist protectively and led you towards the exit doors of the ballroom, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears and you clamped your hands over them to block out the noise. 

Once out in the crisp evening air, you were stumbling across the pavement and George was pulling you to a stop to look at him. Hands trembling, you pushed your hair out of your face and kept your gaze downcast in near shame. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” George asked, rubbing your bare arms with his warm hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” you said shakily. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George brushed your apology off easily, “What’s wrong?” 

“I dunno…it just…was stuffy in there and overwhelming…I don’t feel too good.” you sniffled and he pulled you in for a gentle hug. With your arms tucked around your middle shyly, he held you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. You didn’t want to complain but you were still not feeling much better and you stood back from him again, holding a trembling hand to your mouth, “I feel so gross, George, can we please go home?” 

“Yes, my love, of course.” George took your arm and gently guided you towards the car. 

He opened the door for you and helped you in and even buckled your seatbelt for you before he shut the door and rushed around to the other side to get behind the wheel. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your seat, the world still slightly spinning around you. 

George turned the key and pulled away from the curb, “Did it come on this fast?”

You nodded, working up the courage to speak your response, “Felt really tired today and then dizzy while we were in the bathroom but…”

When your body made you lurch and you pressed your hand to your mouth, George’s wide eyes looked over at you. 

“Tell me to pull over if you need me to.” he instructed gently. 

You nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled. 

He reached over to set a comforting hand on your thigh, “Please don’t be sorry.” 

The street lamps of your perfect little community whizzed past your window as George hurried towards home, his gaze constantly flicking over to you from the street ahead just to make sure you were good. It was odd the way you so quickly felt sick and it honestly made him quite nervous, wondering what had happened to trigger such obvious illness within you in such a short period of time. 

It didn’t take long to get home since your neighbourhood wasn’t very large and George had barely put the car in park before you were tossing off your seatbelt and climbing out of your seat in a rush. George didn’t even turn off the car before he was hurrying after you towards the porch where you caught yourself on the white painted pillar and threw up in the garden. He was right behind you as you sputtered distastefully, pulling your hair away from your face for you as the nausea came over you again and you threw up for a second time right into your rosebush. 

“Oh my-“ you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand. 

George hushed you comfortingly as you let out a little sob and he turned you to face him so he could easily pull you into a warm hug. You ducked your face in his neck, embarrassed, and your shaking hands grasped onto the back of his suit jacket to hold onto him comfortingly. 

“Let’s get you inside and into bed, okay?” he whispered to you, stroking your hair with a gentle hand that rubbed down your back. 

You nodded and sniffled and stepped away from him so he could hurry and turn the car off, gather your purse, and then return to your side to help you inside. Your spotless house greeted you warmly when George flicked on the lights but once glimpse at the kitchen had you panicked again. 

“We didn’t even get to eat. You must be starving-“

“I’m okay.” George assured you quickly, steering you towards the hallway so he could take you to bed, “I can find something for us. Are you hungry at all?”

“Maybe a little.” you answered softly. 

“Okay,” George pulled back the perfectly tucked bedsheets on your side of the bed and sat you down carefully, “I’ll get you into bed and maybe warm up some soup.” 

“Okay.” you breathed. 

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you lifted your arms up so he could pull it over your head. 

“I wanted us to have a nice night.” you mumbled sadly. 

“Hey,” George took your chin in his hand gently to get you to look at him, “I kinda enjoyed myself when we were there, did you not?” 

A little smile pricked at the corner of your mouth at his implication and you nodded slightly in agreement, “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled proudly back at you, your dress draped over his arm, and he reached behind you again to unclip your bra. He undressed you carefully and then helped you to shuffle into one of his sweatshirts. 

“I ruined your promotion.” you sighed sadly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George assured you, gently untying the ribbon from your hair, as his voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s just a job…it’s barely a job. You know that.” 

“Yeah.” you said, “Although it’s nice that you’re being recognized. Makes this all a little easier.” 

George didn’t answer you for a second, his gentle hands stroking through your hair to smooth it down over your shoulders. When you looked up at him at his lack of response, he appeared deep in thought. 

“What is it?” you frowned. 

“Do you think you should take a pregnancy test, darling?” he asked softly. 

You almost scoffed, “What for?”

“Because you’ve been really tired and dizzy and you just threw up in our garden?” 

You bit lightly at your bottom lip and dropped your gaze to your lap. George’s fingers still danced through your hair as he stood in front of you, letting you decide on your answer for yourself. 

“I don’t think I could deal with it being negative.” you whispered to the carpet. “I can’t deal with that anymore and especially not here. I’ll fucking lose it.” 

George’s thumbs caressed your cheeks and he crouched down in front of you so you could look at him, taking your hands in his, “I know you want this more than anything but that’s the reason why we came here, remember? To have what we always wanted? You keep psyching yourself up about this like we’re still at home that you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it and think of the positives of what could be. We have this whole opportunity for us and I don’t want anything to hold us back from living this life that has been built for us.”

You nodded. 

George brought your joined hands to his mouth and he kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off your downcast gaze and he whispered against your soft skin, “Please take a test?” 

You sniffled and lifted your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Please?” George said softly, pausing to kiss your hand again, “I’ll be right here.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and you shyly met his gaze, feeling warm butterflies in your stomach by the way the man you loved stared at you. It was obvious that he loved you more than life itself and you felt the exact same right back. With a moment's thought, you nodded and breathed out a barely audible, “Okay.” 

George honestly smiled and he stood up again, pausing just long enough to kiss your head before he was hurrying into the ensuite and pulled open the bottom cabinet, “Okay!”

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down since your anxiety started to bubble up more in your chest. Still in a full face of makeup, smudging was the least of your concerns at that moment and you focused on deep breathing and keeping your tears at bay. 

George returned to his spot in front of you and he held out the pregnancy test to you. You could see how excited and impatient he was - even if he tried to tone it down for your sake - and the thought of having to tell him it was yet another negative made your throat feel like razor blades. Every time it completely broke your heart. He was so strong. This was your last resort. You had given up everything for this one last chance. 

You took the unopened test from him and felt the weight of it in your hands for a moment, staring down at the blank screen. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked thoughtfully. 

“Can you come in with me?” your voice was shaking. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” George stepped to the side and let you get up from the side of the bed.

You were less dizzy and nauseous but still terribly tired and he followed you closely into the bathroom just to make sure you were steady…and for your emotional support. He sat up on the bathroom counter as you shuffled your panties down and helped yourself to the toilet, holding the test between your legs while your singular evening party drink went right through you. 

You couldn’t remember what number test this was that you had taken and although it was the first since moving into this perfect little paradise of a community, the memory of your past experiences never faded. Your mind whirled with thoughts of the worst…if the alcohol in your recent drink would mess up the results, if you just had a sickness and that’s why you felt so strange all day, if you were too far lost for even a utopian community to save you and your dream.

The test was re-capped and George took it from you to rinse off while you cleaned yourself up and flushed. You wanted to be as far away from it as possible and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed while George checked the time on his watch, test resting on the counter patiently. 

“Three minutes.” George said, following after you back into the bedroom. “Do you need anything? Some water maybe?” 

“No thank you.” you mumbled. 

He hesitated in front of you. 

“I’m going to get you some water.”

“George-”

He was already half out the bedroom door, “Be right back!”

He couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t move.

From the distant kitchen, you could hear him whistling that same tune that had been stuck in your head for ages but you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. Your leg bounced restlessly off the side of the bed, unknowing of the time, and you awaited your husband's return. He was so selfless. He was so good. 

Soon, he was returning quickly and he passed you a glass of water; always one to stay busy. You sipped a bit of it to humour him and despite the fact that your mouth was terribly dry, you did not want to drink. You almost felt sick again. Not wanting to go through the discomfort of throwing up again, you clenched your lips shut and stared at the carpet, trying to keep yourself calm. 

George checked his watch. 

You held out your glass to him as if by instinct and started to get up. 

“You should drink more, love-”

“I’m gonna be sick again.” you hurried out as you pushed past him into the ensuite. 

Dropping to your knees at the toilet, you threw up loudly, struggling to hold back your tears. George set your glass on the counter and crouched behind you to comfort you by pulling your hair from your face as your body had you lurching to throw up again. He rubbed your back and your shoulders and hummed that silly little tune quietly to try and help calm you down. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled weakly. 

“Stop apologizing.” he tisked, following you onto the ground as you slumped from your knees onto your bum. You leaned back against his chest and he flushed the toilet for you before wrapping you up in his arms lovingly, pressing tender kisses to your head. “Through sickness and health, remember?”

You let a small smile come to your lips at the faint memory of the quaint English church in the countryside, the gentle organ playing, and George standing before you at the altar with his hands holding yours. It felt like so long ago as if the essence of time was skewed in your mind. In a way, it really was. Life was so different now but you both were sure this would be better…be worth the end of what once was to find your new beginning together. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” he promised into your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” you sighed. 

He gave your hands a squeeze, “Think you can stand and we can take a look at this test of ours?”

You bit nervously at your bottom lip, “You look at it.” 

“You don’t want to look at it with me?”

You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Can I help you off the floor first at least?”

You permitted him to stand up and he slowly helped you up onto wobbly legs and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you watched as he returned to the bathroom counter directly in your line of vision. He took one last glance at you before he was picking up the pregnancy test from the counter and flipping it over to read it, not giving himself a moment to second guess himself. 

You struggled to read his expression as he read the result; his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a soft pout. You were waiting for the news you had grown all too used to. He wasn’t saying anything and you certainly didn’t want to be the first one to speak. 

George little sniffle had your heart racing with anxiety, making you near positive that it was yet another negative. He looked over at you from the ensuite, bathed in the surrounding artificial light in his tuxedo with his gelled hair falling out of place, and his soft pout was unmissable. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 

You sat frozen in place, aching for him to just rip off the bandaid, “What?”

“You’re pregnant.” he breathed, his voice breaking. 

It felt as though the air was knocked from your lungs. You blinked at him, “What?”

George broke into a grin and he nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms before taking another look at the test. He let out a wet chuckle at the result that stared back at him, “Holy shit.”

“Bring it here.” you ordered, almost panicking in disbelief. 

George joined you on the side of the bed and you grabbed the test from him, almost glaring down at it in your hand. The screen revealed two pink lines, one just a little more faded than the other but still clearly visible to the naked eye. 

“See it?” George pointed to it as if you couldn’t see it yourself. “It’s so clear.” 

Your mouth opened as if to say something but no words came out. No words felt adequate at that moment. Opening and closing your mouth like a clueless fish, you felt dizzy with emotional overwhelm. 

“You’re pregnant, baby.” George rehashed it to you sweetly with a smile as he rubbed his hand over your back, “You have a little us growing inside you right now.” 

You couldn’t tear your wide eyes away from the positive test in your hand, stumbling over your next breath as you struggled to hold back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overtake you. The air felt lighter and you gasped for relief, letting it out with a sob to your bedroom walls. 

“Oh God.” you cried tears of joy, your trembling hands clutching the positive test in your two handed grip and you pulled it to your chest. 

George embraced you right away, pulling you close with happy tears of his own. You turned towards him lovingly and rested your head on his shoulder with your face tucked in his neck, letting him hold you just like that, basking in the relief that was felt by the both of you. Your tears dripped onto the fabric of his tuxedo jacket even as you held open your palms again to get another look at those two pink lines. George kissed your temple proudly. 

“I love you.” he whispered shakily. 

“I love you.” you sniffled and finally turned to look him in the eye. 

Through your tears, you shared quivering grins and he reached a hand up to caress your cheek and then pulled you in for a wet chasté kiss. Both of you were smiling into your kisses but you couldn’t get enough and the love that swelled in your heart was almost overpowering, forcing you to grab onto his tie and really hold his lips on yours. Your tear streaked cheeks pressed together moistly and your kisses tasted faintly of those salty tears you shared but the warm happiness that burned within the two of you was enough to overtake even the darkest of days. 

You broke your kiss only to stare down at the confirmation you held in your hands, your palms delicately supporting the proof of your destiny. Sniffling as your tears slowed, you leaned against your husband who never once left your side, letting his fingers brush your hair over your shoulder so he could lean in beside you cheek to cheek.

“It was all worth it.” he said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “I knew this would be good for us.” 

You nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, noting your silence. 

You looked back at him with a calm smile and lifted a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and rest his forehead against yours, “So happy. And finally so at peace.”

“Good.” George whispered. “You deserve nothing less.”

“We’re finally gonna have our family, George.” you smiled sweetly, “You and me. What we’ve been waiting so long for.” 

He swallowed you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly and so lovingly that you swore you never felt the heat of his love pass onto you as strongly before as it did in that moment. You felt as light as air and you melted into him happily, a peaceful smile on your face as you held onto him and let a content tune hum pleasantly from your lips. 

The egg sizzled as it hit the bottom of the hot skillet, the kitchen filled with warm morning sunlight and the smell of cooking breakfast and brewing coffee that lured George from down the hall to join you. In only his work slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, he made you his priority over getting dressed, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and dipped his shaved face into your neck. 

His hands glided softly under the hem of his sweatshirt you wore to feel the smooth skin of your still generally flat stomach, “Good morning, mommy.” 

You grinned to the stovetop at the reminder of the long-awaited news you had found out the night before and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to guide his lips to yours for a soft kiss. With his thumbs rubbing lovingly over your warm skin, you melted happily into him, “Good morning, daddy.”

Purely innocent and bursting with love for your family of two that would soon be made three, you shared a few more lingering kisses that made your heart swell. 

“You sure you feel up to making breakfast?” George asked softly with one more caress to your stomach and a kiss to your neck. 

“Yeah.” you assured him easily. “I like making you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling so much better.” 

George kissed your temple and then slid away from you to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board where it was left in the living room as it was every morning. 

“Newspaper is already on the table.” you told him as he buttoned up his shirt on his way back over to you. “Your promotion made the front page.”

Living in such a small tight-knit community, there wasn’t much to report upon which only made George’s promotion big news. Front page worthy. He stopped at his usual spot at the kitchen island and glanced down at the newspaper as he tied his tie around his neck under the collar of his freshly ironed white shirt. Pausing to take a bite of toast from the plate that you had set beside the newspaper, he chewed as he straightened out his tie, still skimming the article. 

“I don’t know what’s the big deal.” he spoke through his mouthful, “Not like it’s a real promotion.” 

“Well, not everyone knows that.” you answered calmly, still tending to the bacon and eggs on the stove. 

“I guess.” George flipped to the next page before reaching for his mug for a sip of the steaming coffee that you had poured him. 

“We’re lucky to even be here under these circumstances. The other wives don’t know a thing.” 

George glanced up at you, knowing your conversation was treading towards dangerous territory surrounding the topic that was to be completely silenced under your discretion. You weren’t wrong, however, and thus it allowed you to be the one couple in the community that could freely speak to it - so long as you were completely alone and out of earshot of anyone else. 

“Does it scare you?” George asked. 

You plated the bacon and eggs and merely shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t know their stories or why they’re here…what exactly led them to be a part of this without their knowledge. I can only hope that the husbands did it for the right reasons.” 

Your two plates clinked gently against the island countertop as you set them between you. 

“Besides,” you continued, “all I need to worry about is you and me. And our baby.” 

George broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

“I know that we’re here for the right reasons.” you rubbed your hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, staring adoringly into his soft blue eyes.

“And that’s all that matters,” he agreed. “You and me.”

“You and me.” you nodded, pulling his lips on yours for another quick kiss. “And baby.”

“And baby.” he whispered happily. “Still so crazy…going to have to get used to that.” 

“I know.” you fed him a piece of bacon, “It’s only been months and months of trying and waiting.” 

“Are you going to start telling people today?”

“Should I?”

“If you want to.”

You took a bite of bacon for yourself, staring back at him with a sweet smile you couldn’t hold back, “Okay. Maybe I will.” 

Breakfast was eaten in close proximity, taking second rank of importance behind lovable kisses and whispers of excitement and adoration for each other and your growing family. George took one more piece of bacon for the road before he was grabbing his lunch tin and you were following him to the front door to say your goodbyes. 

“I really don’t want you to go.” you whispered, standing in the warm morning light of the foyer with your arms around his waist as he shrugged on his jacket. 

“I know, darling.” George smiled sadly. “But now more than ever it’s imperative that I go every day.”

“I know.” you sighed. “I love you for that.”

George held your face in his hands and pulled your lips to his for a brief kiss before telling you honestly, “I hate leaving.”

“I know.”

You shared another kiss as he insisted, “It’s the worst.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s scary sometimes.” 

“I know.” you leaned into him to capture his lips with yours in a lingering chasté kiss. 

He sighed into it through his nose, gently sliding his hands from your face down your shoulders and arms, and as he broke your kiss, he guided your hands out from around his waist. You laced your fingers together lazily between you and kissed him once more. 

“We’ll be waiting.” you promised. 

George’s melancholy expression pricked into a smile and he took one hand from yours to dust over the front of the sweatshirt you wore and then dip under the hem, caressing your warm skin lovingly. 

“Can’t wait until you start showing.” 

“Me neither.” you gushed, holding up your sweater for him as you both stared down at what was to become your baby, fingers of your other hands still linked together. 

George sunk down onto his knees and he gently slid his hands around your waist to press warmly against your back to pull you close. He dusted a sweet kiss to your stomach, right under your belly button, caressing your skin with his gentle loving hands, and you would have absolutely swooned. 

“Bye bye, my little one. Be good to mummy today.”

As he stood up, he gave you a smooth kiss next that you were both smiling into. 

“I love you.” you grinned adoringly. 

“I love you.” he promised, his eyes skimming across your make-up free face as if you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you breathed, letting him slip away from you and out the front door. 

You stood on the porch and waved him goodbye as he pulled the car out of the driveway and made his daily drive down your street among the line of fellow men as they journeyed to work together in a single file line.

George whistled happily in his car as the morning breeze took him to the outskirts of the neighbourhood and towards the vast desert landscape that framed your little oasis. With one arm resting on the open window beside him, he coasted in the steady lineup of cars that navigated towards the highly confidential headquarters where all the local men were to report for work at precisely 9am every morning. He hated leaving you but only more so now that you had both found out that you were finally expecting. On the other hand, it only proved to himself that his responsibility to attend his daily expectations was of the utmost importance. 

As the glass structure atop the desert mountains grew closer on his approach, his car radio crackled to life with the expected daily recording. 

“All male citizens on route to headquarters. Schedule is one time.” 

George absolutely dreaded the idea of leaving you but he had a duty to withhold that allowed you to live your life together in your ideal oasis that was already starting to give you everything you ever wanted. So he took the drive without complaint as the road turned into the steep mountainous climb towards the building overseeing the guarded little castaway town. 

The radio spoke again with the voice of the mayor, “Security risk is low. All units expected to pass without fault. Arriving at the gate in 3…2…1-”

George’s chest gasped for air as his vision burst from light into the darkness that surrounded him, staring up into the dizzying patterns of light that were projected onto the ceiling above. He reached towards his face and carefully removed the metal clamps from his eye sockets and blinked feverishly a few times as the moisture re-settled over his irises. The wavering sound of white noise that filled the darkened room was almost invisible to him now and as he sat himself up in the bed and stretched his arms over his head and twisted his spine until it cracked in relief, he was unbothered by it. 

On his left, laying flat beside him, you laid peacefully, staring at the ceiling. The same clamps that he had been wearing also kept your eyes open, staring blankly up to the dark ceiling and the projection of light patterns that kept you stagnant. George shifted to face you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your pale cheek and caress your arm with the back of his finger. 

“I’m here, love.” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m still right here with you.”

Leaving you in place, he slowly got up from the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold wood floor beneath him as he opened the blackout curtains that framed the bed. The room was still pitch black outside of the canopy bed thanks to the extra safety barrier of curtains that covered each drafty window. You couldn’t be too safe. 

The floorboards creaked under George’s every step as he navigated the bedroom like he would every weekday and he pulled open the curtains from over one of the corner windows, allowing the room to be illuminated sufficiently by the morning sun. His eyes burned as the stream of bright light came flooding in and he rubbed his eyes with his fists as he once again became adjusted to the reality that surrounded him. 

The sunlight guided him to the nearby dust filled table in the corner of the room where he nudged a few of the dated newspapers and magazines to the side, ignoring the way the oldest copy of the Daily Mirror peeked out from the bottom of the pile with a headline that he always avoided looking at and yet couldn’t stomach throwing away. 

MAN & WOMAN DEAD IN TRAGIC DUAL SUICIDE

Your wedding picture was printed in black and white just below. 

George flipped open his notebook and sat down on the rickey wooden chair to write the date at the top of the fresh page and then recorded his physical status. He took his height, weight, heart-rate, and blood pressure and then did the same for you - all but weight - as you laid limpy on the bed. He scribbled the numbers down carefully and made sure to check you twice just to make sure everything was as it should be - especially since you were now in such delicate condition back in your perfect oasis. He couldn’t afford a single thing to go wrong. You were counting on him after all. 

“Perfect numbers today, darling.” George whispered to you as he closed his notebook and capped his pen, returning them both to the messy table across the room. 

Having been in only his boxers, George grabbed a folded sweatshirt from the bin under the table and pulled it on to brave against the chilly Scottish air that helped itself through the beams of the worn log cabin otherwise protecting you from the elements. He stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway to the quaint and virtually untouched kitchen and living room area. The well water collection from Monday still sat on the counter and he scooped himself a glass of water to rehydrate for a moment as he took in the scenic views through the large tinted windows. 

Miles of lush forest sprawled in all directions for as far as he could see and after so long, he had started to forget which way was north or even which way civilization was. The Scottish highlands and forests were your only protection. Sometimes he wished you were able to watch the sunrise with him over the mountain peaks ever again but he had to force himself to stop missing what could be and focus on what now is. Your life was perfect together. Just you and him. 

Never permitted to set foot outside the cabin, George took the stairs down to the cellar and patted barefoot across the stone floor in the dark until he reached the sliver of light that peeked through the cellar door from outside. Hidden beneath the shallow stairs that led to the fresh air, a grey bin sat in the pitch black.

George knew the routine well so his eyes didn’t need time to focus as he crouched under the stairs and shuffled through the bin in the dark. The rustle of grocery bags drew his hands in and he lifted them up and out of the hiding spot to take back upstairs. He only reached back in for the final item - a small bouquet of flowers still wrapped in cellophane from the store. 

With a soft smile on his face, George took his time returning to the kitchen and he set his delivery on the stone countertop. The first bag contained a few food items for him such as non-perishable canned beans, peas, and cooked pastas in tomato sauce as well as a new bar of soap, a razor, and a few more similar necessities. The second bag contained a sealed medical kit in which George found needles, gause, tape, and rubbing alcohol. The medical bag of clear liquid was carefully wrapped in a clean towel alongside it. 

George organized the supplies into piles and then lifted up the bouquet of flowers again, pulling down the cellophane slightly to get a good look at the mix of brightly-colored tulips, peonies, roses, and hydrangeas nestled in a halo of baby's breath and greenery. He raised it to his nose to take a deep inhale, savouring the heavenly scent of fresh flowers. 

The card that was nestled within the flowers called his attention and he opened the little blank envelope to pull out the message inside. 

Happy anniversary 🤍

He always requested weekly flowers from his sister in order to keep some sense of romantic normalcy in your changing lives together but her little sneaky addition of the card brought a tearful smile to his face. He had almost forgotten your anniversary among the strange twists of life and time. Life in your new home was different than in the physical world…both in reality and the linear flow of time. He would have to make a point to buy you something in the shops on his drive back to your shared home that evening. 

But the generosity of his older sister never went unnoticed and he thanked the stars that he turned to her to keep your biggest secret. You had allowed George to choose the one person who would be your supplier for virtually the rest of your lives in hiding since he would be the one between the two of you who would return to the real world almost daily. It wasn’t a small ask to have her be the only person in the world to know your whereabouts and your story - to hide that from your families and friends as they grieved what they thought was your tragic and sudden death - but she was your most trustworthy and safest bet. Her devotion to her brother and you - her sister-in-law - was monumental and she managed to deliver the necessities to your secret hideaway twice a week like clockwork. George never knew how he would ever repay her. 

George took his time freshening up with the water from the well, sparingly rinsing himself off with soap and a washcloth before shaving over the bone dry bathroom sink to get the best look he could of himself in the grimy and cracked mirror. Even if you would never see him in person again, he always wanted to look his best for you. 

Then it was your turn and he took the bags back to your bedroom and set up the chair at your bedside to tend to you. You were laying perfectly still in your nightgown on the sturdy mattress with your ankles bound to the footboard and your arms resting at your sides. The IV needle was taped gently into your forearm and the bag hung on the metal pole just beside the bed, allowing a slow but steady drip of calorie-rich medicated liquid to keep your body fed and nourished while you laid in your stagnant state. 

George first replaced the flowers in the vase beside your bed, removing the week-old ones for the fresh ones that had been delivered by his sister. He refilled their water and arranged them nicely and spoke to you quietly about how nice they looked and how pretty they smelled. 

With washed hands and wearing medical gloves just to be extra cautious, George gently pulled the tape away from your skin and twisted off the IV drip from the needle that stayed nestled in your forearm. He wiped the area with rubbing alcohol to disinfect it and then retaped the needle in place. As he worked, he thought back to your conversation that morning and tried to imagine where the other husbands were at that moment and how they could tend to their wives like this without their consent. It nearly made George sick to think about that - about the possibility of having the one you loved most trapped there under his control for who knows how long simply for his own gain. That’s what made you and George different. You were in it together. You were in it for each other. 

With another clean cloth and the bar of soap, George gently washed down your body and rinsed you off the best he could, tending to you lovingly. He brushed your hair and your teeth and made sure you were lying comfortably even if you couldn’t feel anything. Leaning over you cautiously, he dropped a few eye drops into your still eyes to keep them moist as they were being held open by the metallic clamps. 

He then pulled out the new medical bag from the delivery from his sister and replaced it on the IV pole. He screwed in a fresh tube into the bottom of the bag and then attached the other end to the needle in your arm, double checking to make sure the drip was steady and as it should be. You only deserved the most precise treatment. 

To pass the day and keep an eye on you, he helped himself to a can of beans that he opened with a dull knife and hid the rest of the food stock away under the table in the bedroom. He sat at your bedside and ate quietly, keeping an eye on you and the IV as the minutes passed in the silence. 

When the food was done, George collected all of his garbage and any sign of life from the kitchen to hide away in an empty grocery bag in the bedroom until he would have to place it in the cellar bin for his sister to retrieve at her next stop-over. He locked the bedroom door behind him and returned to your bedside, straightening up the vase on your nightstand and he gently picked up the white music box beside it. The lid was topped with a baby blue decal of a sleeping puppy and framed in little stars and George smiled softly down at it as he turned it around in his hands to crank the tiny handle at the bottom. 

He had purchased it years ago when you were first trying for a baby, back when life was simple but the weight of its burdens rested heavy on your shoulders. Back then, it all seemed hopeful and exciting as newlyweds wanting to expand your family and George couldn’t help but buy something to surprise you on the eventual day you would find out you were pregnant. He never ended up being able to gift it to you but it stayed with him the whole time and found its rightful place in this cabin with you while you gave up your lives for your ultimate dream. 

When the music box was fully primed, he delicately turned it back around in his hands and opened the lid, letting the familiar gentle tune fill your otherwise silent cabin. He had shamefully played it a few times before when he would find himself alone during the days and waiting beside your still body just like that, maybe to hope for some sort of promise that things would work out. He never knew you could subconsciously hear him during the days when he left to tend to you like that but he found comfort in it too. Neither of you were ever truly alone. 

The soft tune played softly from the nursery music box and George helped himself to his side of the bed alongside you, resting back against the pillows to stare at you just a little longer in the patterned lights that were projected to the ceiling of your canopy bed. Soon, he would be called back by the passing of time to return to your true presence in your perfect little paradise with your growing dream tucked safely inside you. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract 1

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won't seem to let you go.

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: I don't know where this came from.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A speck of red. A speck of red in a sea of blue. From the observer's eye, one would not notice. But the creator, the artist, the start error is obvious. No inadvertent, but entirely deliberate. A reminder of what it cost you.

You close your eyes and the fleck of blood sears in your mind. Like the site of your boyfriend gasping his last breaths. Ex, now. For a while. It feels like yesterday yet no time at all.

You shiver and hug yourself through the white cashmere. The sweater offers little warmth in the cold house. The glass doors look out onto the white lawn, a fresh dusting of snow trims the covered pool and blankets the landscape. It would be beautiful to any who did not know the sinister secrets of this place. The crimes witnessed by these walls alone.

You turn away from the portrait hung above the gaping fireplace. Even the crackling flames cannot warm you. There is no comfort in this house or the man who resides there. A warden, a maniac, a murderer.

You near the glass doors, eyes drawn to how the snow gathers in corners. The thin sheet of frost that cakes the panes and the fog of your breath as you stand close. The world outside is obscured by your own existence.

Silence. Stillness. Distance. Isolation. The vast grayness of your small world trapped behind a transparent wall. You touch the handle, feeling the cold metal, gripping it tight. A sudden urge to run out and dive into the heaps.

"Dinner tonight?" Clark's voice claps like thunder through the lull.

You gasp and recoil from the door. You turn to him, hugging yourself as much out of fright as the temperature. You step away from the door and your yearning for escape.

"Dinner," you repeat, your hollow voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Yes, your mother is coming to town? We'll get her from the airport and take her to Elliston's?"

"Are you asking or telling?" You mutter as you drop your arms, tucking your hands up the cuffs.

You sweep away, crossing to the archway that opens into the spacious kitchen. You go to the counter and flip up the lid of the coffee machine. You focus on the rack of pods. It's habit more than anything, often you let your cup go cold, basking in the scent but too numb to taste it.

He follows. You sense him. Like you always do. Always hovering. Always watching.

"Don't be like this. You've been looking forward to her visit."

You grumble as you pick out the cinnamon cookie pod and shove it in the top. You shrug. Not really. You only ever play the part he wants. Move your brush to his whim, streak the paint by his word, lay on your back as he gets what he wants.

"And I have been too. I can't wait to meet your family. All of them."

Your chest winds tight. You can't tell if it's a threat or genuine. He is always hard to decipher. If you had ever been able to see through him, you wouldn't be standing there, trapped in his house, in his grip.

Five months. Five months in your cell. Five months with Marcus' blood on your soul. 

"I'll get a room ready," you put a mug under the spout and hit the brew button. 

He lurks closer. You stare and wait for the drip to begin. He puts his hands on your shoulders, the fabric turning course beneath the weight of his grasp.

"Nina's already working on it," he growls into your crown, "don't act so hard done by…"

"I'm not," the trickle spits out and hits the porcelain sharply.

"I give your more than he ever–"

You tear away from him, sliding along the counter as you spin to face him. He clucks and tilts his head, slowly pivoting towards you. The anger cordons in his cheek.

"I told you…"

He scoffs. "You're right, he was nothing. Not worth talking about. Sweetheart, it was always going to be me."

You clamp your lips shut as your eyes sting. He doesn't wake up every day in horror, he doesn't sink into sleep like a stone in mud, he doesn’t know what it is to live in black and white when the world used to be painted in a million colours.

"I'll confirm what time she gets in."

He sighs and crosses his arms. You look down at the white sweater and unroll the crumpled hem. You didn't wear cashmere before, no silk, no satin. Just cotton and tweed. Now you wear what he tells you to.

"Find something to wear for dinner," he demands, "and after."

He crosses the pristine tile and you look at him in the face, eyes glossy and pathetic. He kisses your forehead as his hand comes up to your chin, his thumb stroking your lips. He inhales your scent and lets out a growl.

"Wear the diamonds," he demands.

He lets you go and leaves you there. You watch after him as he stalks off, checking the time on his wristband. He clears his throat as he turns out of your sight. Your vision blurs to a muddy blur.

The coffee machine dings and brings you back. As much as you love your mother, how do you explain this to her? Lies are easier on the phone, but face to face, the truth is clear to see.

🎨

Your mother pulls you into a hug, her suitcase forgotten at her side. It's been almost a year since you last saw her. You and Marcus made a rare trip down for her birthday. As solitary as she prefers her life, she cherishes your rare company.

"Tweety bird, it's been so long," she hugs you, swaying you with her. She releases tou and holds you at arm's length, "don't you look like a dead mouse?"

"Ha, yeah, I was up late… painting," you smile thinly.

"Never change," she chides as you sense a shadow approach. Clark grabs the handle of her suitcase and rolls it towards him as he puts his hand on your back. "Oh, who… is this?"

"Clark," you try not to show your frustration. Your mother's always been a touch flightly, "I told you about him."

"Ah, yes, oh, that Marcus," she tuts and shakes her head, "couldn't believe it when you said he ran off but then again, I wasn't unhappy."

"Mom," you sniff.

"Well? He always left his dirty socks on the couch."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You'd rather not talk about him. You fear she'll see right through your story. Clark takes his hand off your back.

"Nice to meet you–" he begins.

"Don't be silly," she pulls him into a hug, an impressive feat as she is rail thin, "you must be the one saving my gal from heartbreak."

"Um, sure," he snorts, "you're Janine?"

"That's the one," she pulls back and fixes her wild waves, "I'm afraid she hasn't given me more than your name."

"She's been busy. Commissions and all," Clark puts on that perfect act. The gentleman with all the charm. The one you fell for. "We hope you're not too tired, I suggested a reservation for dinner…"

"Oh, yes, please, I'm starving. That airplane food is better avoided," she trills, "besides just ask Tweety, I'm mot much of a sleeper."

You shake your head in confirmation and she grins wider. Clark rolls her bag around and waves his arm ahead of him, "ladies."

"Oo, finally got yourself a gentleman."

"Mhmm," you hum as you start forward, "something like that."

🎨

You watch the wine flow into the glass, filling the belly with a rich burgundy colour. Your mother looks around emphatically as Clark gives a curt nod of dismissal to the server. You're left to peruse the menu.

“Wow, this is a fancy place,” your mom comments as she opens the leather folio containing the menu, “where was it Marc would take us? Denny’s?”

You give her a look. It’s strange, you’re mother was never one to turn her nose up at simplicity but there were some very specific sticking points when it came to your boyfriend. Ex. Or maybe money really does corrupt all.

The wine is stringent. You don’t like it. You take a hefty swig and set the stem down heavily. Clark gives you a look. Right, he has his curated image, you have to fit into that.

“So mom, how was your flight?”

“Ah, it’s fine. But I was sat next to this skinny fellow. So nervous. Jittered the whole way. I had to close the window because it made him sick. So I took a nap.”

“I hope you don’t mind shacking up with us. I thought of a hotel but we have more than enough room,” Clark suggests, “after a long day, I’m sure you’d like to just relax.”

“With us? You live together?” Your mom raises her brows.

“You knew this. Remember?”

“No, you said you moved out of your apartment, I don’t remember a where or with who. This is moving fast,” she says, “definitely not a rebound then?”

You cringe. Clark is a better actor than you. He laughs. Or maybe it is really that funny. Laughing at your dead ex and the ensuing predicament. You take another gulp of the disgusting wine.

“Well, the salmon looks interesting, “but I do prefer halibut…” she mulls over the listings, “oh, prawns. Tweety, don’t you remember when you drank all my vodka and puked up seafood all night?”

“Mom,” you swallow.

“Tweety, that’s an interesting nickname,” Clark says, opening the door for further humiliation.

“Ah, yes, well, funny story.”

“Not really,” you intone.

Your mother ignores you as she closes her menu and rests it on the table in front of her. “Her aunt used to give her Tweety Bird everything. Pajamas, stuffies, notebooks… she hates Tweety Bird. Always has but she was too nice to tell my sister so she had this little collection. I bet it’d be worth a bit now. Vintage and all that.”

“Oh, Tweety,” Clark echoes, “interesting. Cute.”

“Yellow did always suit her.”

“Anything suits her, doesn’t it?” He puts his hand over yours, “I tell her all the time. She makes paint stains look incredible. You wouldn’t believe it, at the end of the day she walks out of the studio looking like, uh, what’s that artist that does the splashes?”

“Pollock,” you answer dully.”

“She was always obsessed with men with too much time and not enough talent,” your mother remarks, “art, I’m just happy she isn’t still working at the coffee shop.”

“That was like six years ago,” you retort.

“Still, you have a degree, you should use it.”

“And she does,” Clark assures, “she’s wonderful at what she does.”

“Aw,” your mother almost fawns, “you’re such a sweetheart. Where did she find you and where do I get one?”

You barely restrain from rolling your eyes. Clark basks in the praise. You empty your glass and feel the slosh in your mind. It might be a bit too much but the wine makes the nights go quicker.

You decide on a salad. You’re not hungry. Your appetite is scant at best, food is a necessity, not a joy. Like much of your life now. It makes you miss those numbers you thought were so dire. The easy life of putting numbers in boxes and putting frozen lasagna in the oven.

The server returns and you turn your attention to his convenient arrival. You need the distraction. He nods to your empty glass and you see how Clark takes notice as well.

“Did you require more, mademoiselle?” He offers.

“One will do until we have our entrees,” Clark insists, “no good drinking on an empty stomach.”

You smile and take the stout glass of water from beside the stemmed glass, “thank you. He’s right.”

“Do we know what we’re having?” The server asks.

Clark defers to your mother with a gesture. She orders first. Halibut with the seasonal vegetables. Clark has his usual filet mignon, and you get the cobb salad. You hand over your menu and sit back, twiddling your fingers in your lap.

“Salad,” your mother comments, “when she was a teen, I couldn’t pry the onion rings out of her hands. Now look at her. It’s catching up, isn’t it?”

“Nothing wrong with being mindful,” Clark comments as he brushes his fingertips along his thick beard. He’s let it grow out, his hair too, the curls spiraling past his ears. “It’ll save room for dessert, they have a delicious creme brule.”

“Mmm, amazing–” your mother’s voice catches and she looks past you.

You don’t react right away as another serve sneaks up on you. Clark reaches behind him with one hand, covertly as if trying not to give himself away, and brings it forward as you peek up at the woman all in black. She giddily grins and backs up.

Clark takes a breath and pushes back his chair as he rises. He turns and kneels as the server hovers nearby, hands clutched together. Several other tables hush and servers look up from their work. You feel time halt as your ears ring.

Clark presents a red velvet box as your mouth falls open. For those strangers all around, those who don’t know about you or him, it must look like shock, even glee. But it's thrumming, crashing terror. No. No. Your eyes pinpoint on the large diamonds as he reveals it, three rings of smaller ones around the large.

You look up over his head then over at your mother. She dabs her eyes and covers her mouth in disbelief. You wobble as you turn back to Clark. His voice rumbles in your ears but you can’t make out the words. You blink. And blink. And blink. Gaping like a dead fish.

“...marry me?...”

His question hangs before you. You could keel over and shrivel up. You could stand up and flee. Run until you can’t stop. You close your eyes and see the blood spurting from Marcus’ chest. The image of your mother’s face flits across your mind, replacing his. You won’t let him hurt her too.

“Yes.”

The voice is not your own. It can’t possibly be because you can’t feel it on your tongue but it tickles in your ears. Clark snatches your hand and forces the diamond on, standing as he tugs you up and pulls you into an embrace. He tilts your head and kisses you. The fairy tale he writes for the onlookers is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

[ugh-yoongi]

hiiiii my love, can't wait to torture bee for her birthday (because yoongi hasn't done enough of that). little on the nose, but can i request domestic yoongi celebrating a partner's birthday? i just think he'd be really sweet & thoughtful with it

love u, thank u <3

hello my beloved! thank u for the request. please excuse the tooth-rotting fluff here, but i had to make it extra soft for our resident acts of service king. <3

i hope this helps our collective hobi depression just a tiny bit :')

yours to keep

pairing: yoongi x gn!reader genre: established relationship au; fluff warnings: domestic soft yoongi. may cause delusions. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 569 listen to: by your side by sade

[the night before, 7:30pm]

Yoongi waits until you’re out of the house.

Friday night, dragged to your favorite restaurant by your group of closest friends. Jimin sent along with Yoongi’s credit card and a mission. Tonight, he’s a turncoat: tasked with making sure you have a good time, but also ensuring you stay out long enough for Yoongi to cross every task off his to-do list. And, as Jimin had appeared at the door to escort you, dressed impeccably as always, nearly glittering beneath the shitty lighting in your kitchen, you’d been none the wiser.

There’d been a sly smirk thrown over his shoulder and the discreet passage of a sleek, black card. A kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, a promise to see you later, and then silence.

Now he can get to work.

[11:59pm]

“I had no idea thirty would come with so many new aches and pains.”

Yoongi laughs something soft and breathy. Thinks it’s kind of silly that he always reacts to you this way: endlessly endeared, edges permanently eroded. He takes in the sight of you—skin still dewy from your shower, those expensive eye patches you love stuck beneath your tired gaze. Wonders what kind of crossroads deal he must’ve shook on to wind up here.

Twenty-four seconds until midnight. Not that he’s counting, but he wants to get it right. Wants to see the brief glimpse of confusion before your face settles and that brilliant smile shines through. Just enough time to make it to the kitchen and dig through the junk drawer. Enough time to pad back down the hallway and appear in the doorway of the bedroom.

“What’s that?” you ask, and there’s the confusion. The soft knit of your eyebrows, small downturn of your mouth.

Yoongi doesn’t answer. Just places one knee on the bed, lets it dimple under his weight. Pulls the lighter out of his pocket just as the clock strikes midnight and lights the stupid 3 candle he’d also tasked Jimin with. “Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish.”

You close your eyes and blow.

Whatever you wish for, Yoongi hopes it sounds a lot like forever.

[the day of, 9am]

He lets you sleep in.

Busies himself with the fruit tray and the coffee machine. Trims the stems of the flowers, makes sure the water in the vase is cold. Arranges them so they look more purposeful and less thrown-together. Meticulously sticks thirty spiral candles into the cake and wonders how he’s going to light them all before they start melting. Sighs and decides to do it anyway.

And then there’s the sound of feet on hardwood and he turns, his smile involuntary when you come into frame. “Morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm. What’re you doing?”

You wrap your arms around him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulders. Yoongi places a hand over yours and squeezes. Says, “Lighting your birthday candles.”

“That’s a lot of candles,” comes your response, but the warmth in it is palpable. He can feel your smile. “Did you make the cake?”

He nods. Shrieks when you pinch playfully at his waist and call him a traitor.

Thinks he’d do much worse if it made you happy.

[6:45pm]

Yoongi clears the dishes from the table. Stacks them in a pile next to the sink.

Pats his pocket, makes sure it’s still there.

It is.

[babe-a-tron-queenthousand]

i just wanna thank everyone for all the love on my V cosplay. it was a tough build, and is still in progress/reworks. i intend on making her prom dress, maid dress, and camp uniform.

long ass post ahead detailing progress, so hold onto your socks!

📸 by my bestie caro :)

the closer to completed i got with the parts, the more and more every little thing went wrong. i need to rework/repair a LOT before i enter her in any competitions. i also intend on building her wings. may post progress updates

for the EVA foam arms, i made them too long (and still need to trim them more) and was unable to use my arms at all. i had to ask my girlfriend to hold and manage all my stuff at the convention. :,) they’re also gritty as hell, because i had to make them outside and the wind kept blowing them off the work area while the paint was wet. the paint messed up a lot and had to be re-done several times.

as for the mask, similar to the arms. the paint gave me hell and i had to trim it down multiple times. i also lost it to a gust of wind at the convention! i was EXTREMELY lucky that my bestie was able to spot it in a road median the next day.

originally, the tail was going to have LED’s in it similarly to the headband. however, the electronics kept breaking. no matter how much i fiddled with it and attempted to re-solder it, it would not work. at one point, the line suspending the tail snapped. that was an insane repair on the con floor.

i was hoping to have the dress done fast, as i have most of the parts pinned and ready to sew but the machine does not like the stretchy fabric. at all.

even though i measured a gajillion times, the stockings did not end up as long as i would have liked them. the painting on them is unfinished too, and was all done the two nights before con. i actually ended up passing out while working them because of how much i overworked myself with school and con crunch!

as a last-second improvise, i whip-stitched some fur on a thrifted top!

i was originally going to do the fingers on the glove with foam, but the parts all peeled and ripped, so i just painted it instead. one of the fingers on the glove even almost came off.

[garaksapprentice]

Remembrance

I started this weave last year, the day after TDOR, and the day of the Pulse nightclub attack. My heart was heavy, and I needed a way to redirect a whole bunch of feelings about a thing I couldn't do anything about.

The warp and weft both came from several balls of a 5 ply acrylic knitting yarn, one that had been given to me in one of those many small "I don't know what else to do with this" moments that happen when people know that 1) you're a knitter and 2) you'll happily collect donations and pass them on to various local organisations if you can't use them yourself.

I'd looked at them and immediately went "that's a trans pride bundle of colours if ever I saw them," then put them in the stash and let them percolate. (I don't knit with 5 ply much, I already had more than enough projects that needed finishing, and I had no idea what pattern would do justice to the vague idea I had. Sometimes things need to compost a while before you can grow anything from them.)

I originally wanted to do a heart twill. After a bit of thought, mostly centred around my lack of experience, I went with a diamond twill instead. This was the first project on my new-to-me floor loom, and the diamond twill was more straightforward. Plus, counterbalance looms don't deal well with unbalanced shafts - the heart twill pattern I had put more of the threads on the back shaft than any of the others, and I didn't have the headspace or the experience to flip the draft so they'd be on the front one instead.

It took me eight days to wind the warp, beam it, thread the heddles, sley the reed, and tie on. (I wasn't tracking project hours back then so I don't know how long those things actually took, all up.) I'd started on the twenty-first, and was threading the heddles by Sunday 27th. On the 30th, I started weaving.

According to my project notes, I only actually wove for eight days between getting the loom warped and cutting the finished fabric off. Given the thickness of the threads, that seems about right - I'd roughly guess at six or seven hours of weaving time over a ~2.3m warp?

After that it was a matter of wet finishing (wool setting in the washing machine), trimming off the loom waste, and doing double folded hems at each end (I am Not A Fan of fringe).

Is it perfect? Hell no; there's at least two threading errors and the beat changes from start to finish. But it's soft, and warm, and it's full of the hope and productive anger that I managed to find after the beat of the loom helped me climb out of the pit of helpless despair.

[throwaway-yandere]

Alone Together (Yandere Modern Ex-Idol!Cyno/Reader)

Mother of Klee, Alice's note: Oof... I am... So sorry about this, solitary anon... You understand that there are no hard feelings, right?... Right. I'm glad to hear that. Keep your chin up, okay kid?

Yandere 1k idol genshin event

--------

You didn’t get the job.

The weight of the world rests on your shoulders.

You need to cry. But not now; you already entered the first store you found inside the mall. You are unable to concentrate on anything because you are SURE that if you do, you will wind up kneeling on the floor. You could have gone home and fall asleep—you WANTED to do that—but the enveloping silence would have accentuated the noticeable loneliness that greets you each time you enter your apartment. It's preferable to stroll through a moderately busy area, although standing in a comic book shop didn't accomplish much.

You picked up a random book.

They said you weren’t accepted because your hearing wasn't great, that you have the talent but it’s up to the CEO's criteria– these are only a few of the things that you want to scream out of your system. What put the final nail in the coffin was hearing people talk about their recruits. One of them was a scholar or sage who landed a job as Childe from ADDICKTZ’s producer. How can you even compete with that? You couldn't let your pet fish hear your pathetic sulking– it is not as if your friend could reach out and comfort you anyways. Hah… "friend." 

It's not like you have communication problems; you can even steer talks like a well-oiled machine if you want to. It's just that being disqualified out of the 22 participants hurts since you detested feeling left out. 

Once upon a time, these emotions pass without much difficulty, but adulthood has a very unique way of bringing your lack of companionship to the forefront of your mind. Aside from your pet fish, you were positive you had many friends. "Had" is the common verb you use to associate with that word. You've had people come and go every year or month since you were a young child so there is a pattern that you have come to recognize. For a few months, you would hyperfixate on a relationship with someone who shares your interests before they start to drift away with lame justifications like being busy or, worse, moving out. You never cry whenever this occurs since you have no reason to.

They never stay in your life long enough for you to care, therefore you've never pleaded with them to stay. They always cross the other side of the fence while you remained a hackneyed outsider.

You admit it: you’re a people pleaser and you ended up adapting to different personalities so much that you no longer know what YOU enjoy deep down. What you want in a "true friend".

Is that it?... Is that your personality, your character?

Is that the barebones of your most authentic identity?

You felt your chest restrict itself.

God, if that's the case, why does it sound so empty? Why does it feel so hollow after you've done everything to earn EVERYONE'S love?

It’s frustrating how much influence others have on you.

You smiled even for those pettily undeserving of kindness, you croaked for those who confided their pain for your ears alone, you were nice to retail workers, you gave poor men food, ALWAYS the first to help. You were the ideal citizen society was looking for.

But how come when you ask for something, it’s never received?

Where is it?

Where is the karma?!

Forget all the notions of acting like a well-put together person, this wasn’t the time to dwell on that. You need something to hold. You need someone to hold you. 

You clenched the book even more. Shit. You might have to buy this ridiculous manga now since you forgot to trim your nails, but you can't think clearly. Why on earth do you have to pay $5 for this crap?! You don’t even like The Knight Tames The Villainess. You favor long, plot-driven series over inexpensive harlequin-inspired novels like this one. You don’t even like Otome Isekais like this. 

You don’t even…

“Ngh…” A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

Such a minor inconvenience allowed you to cry soundlessly.

"What do you call a jackal that's new to comics?"

You turned around, biting your lip.

There was an albino man wearing a MangaMatra uniform in front of you. Unlike the other staff member, he wore an orange peculiar scarf and sunglasses indoors. The stranger watches you with an impervious resting face, but you're more intrigued by his appearance rather than his out-of-nowhere question. He has the look of a man who has experienced most landmarks of his life, tethered by both bitter and sweet memories. But you mostly assumed he was the manager based on the crow's feet that littered near his eyebags. 

"He's Anubis." The man said dryly.

Slowly, your face cleared. Your thoughts are barely cohesive as you attempted to form a conversation-stopping reply, anything that could get you out of whatever he’s trying to do, but you’re too baffled to know what to do next.

… He's what?

"Did you get it? Allow me to explain. Anubis is a jackal and the word sounds hilariously similar to the phrase a newbie.” He droned on, his face still stiff. “It’s a good joke, right?”

...

Was that a joke? That… That was a joke, right? There’s no way it isn’t. It was just a bad one. Through the haze of the emotional pain you’re currently forced to deal with, surely he can at least understand that this isn’t a normal approach to befriending someone.

You gave him a forced smile. Deep down, you felt grotesque to yourself. This was not you smiling. This was a stranger. 

“... Y-Yes. Yes, it is.”

“I’m glad you think so too. Want to hear another one?”

“I’m fine, thanks–”

“No, no you’re not.”

Just who is this guy?

You reeled back, closing your eyes exasperatedly. "I'm sorry but I don't need you to tell me how I feel–"

"You're shaking." He said. "Your shoulders are stiff but your lips are trembling. You're emotionally unstable and you need someone to talk to. I am usually the... silent type but I'll be willing to help you sort out your mental distress."

Unlike his futile jokes, this approach reacquainted you back to reality. You roused a little in each heartbeat, yet not completely grounded by his words. 

“Sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself.” 

He removed his sunglasses.

Your heart dropped.

“I’m Cyno, I’m the founder of MangaMatra and the manager of the branch we’re in right now.”

“Y-You’re Cyno! Cyno of Vulpus Aureus.”

Undoubtedly, their name is odd for an idol duo, and the meaning behind it was equally illogical. The musical preferences of this age were established by both Tighnari and Cyno's equal efforts, and they also revived 80s tunes without a hitch. Cyno was resplendently breathtaking when he owned the stage as the “Judicator” of the idol world. It’s no wonder most teenagers didn’t act normal whenever their name is uttered but the last pages of their Wikipedia page were more unhinged.

When "VA" announced their separation, there wasn't a single dry eye in the crowd. People were similarly shocked when Cyno revealed that he hasn't gotten a paycheck since they debuted because of the costs of his idol training. While some were impressed that he was able to leave a loan shark-like organization, others couldn't help but selfishly think Cyno should have just sucked it up. His former partner, Tighnari, did not receive the same treatment. As one of Teyvat Production's music composers, Tighnari continued to work in the idol business, keeping his name inscribed in pure gold.

The world moved on, and you’ve almost forgotten him too.

Cyno favored you with a warm smile that faded just as quickly as your excitement. He tittered as he made a sideway glance at your phone. In turn, you shook your head. Cyno understood that you wouldn't ask him for a picture based on that minuscule exchange alone.

“Umm… I was a fan.”

“Happy to hear it.” Cyno nodded. “But this conversation is not about me, it’s you.”

He took the book off your hand and placed it back on the shelf, his trained eyes not looking away from you.

"I understand what you're feeling. No matter how many compliments you get, there's a quiet but impactful intrusive thought that makes you ignore those for the things that remind you of the flaws you make up in your mind. It's not a pleasant experience and it's something all of us will have to live with."

Those words came from the heart. Cyno's gaze drifted away, staring at something intangible. "And it's a burden some of us might have to carry forever if left in solitude, but you don't have to belong in that category."

He smiled.

“So, why don’t you tell me every detail as to what fated you to enter my store? There will be no judgment this time, I am all ears.”

—------

It’s been months since your run-in with the idol. A surreal experience, it was, but what followed was remarkably natural. Book recommendations turned into live readings turned into playing tabletop games with brand new decks at his favorite coffee place. Sometimes you wondered if Cyno’s tired of you clumsily inviting him to every nerdy event you know about, but the way he lights up leads you to believe he finds your presence as fun as you do his.

The ex-idol turned manga shop owner became an important person to you beyond the old parasocial relationship of a celebrity and fan. There was not an awkward gap between you two.

You found a friend. 

At the beginning of your platonic relationship, you used to be a bit paranoid of Cyno’s quiet demeanor since you couldn’t read what was on his mind, Lately, you seem to understand his silence and he seems to understand you. 

And that was everything you could ever ask for. 

“What was that call just earlier?” You asked, but you didn’t dare snoop into what was on his screen.

He had a rather lengthy phone call earlier as you were picking another book to read on his shelf. Unluckily for you, you don’t hear all that well so you could barely make out any snippets of what he had said except for a single name.

Cyno half-shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

“You seemed annoyed at Tighnari.”

“I was just notified that I received something.” A threat.

“Oh? A gift?”

"Gifts?..." Cyno grimaced. "Sorry– I'd rather not think about that."

"Why–" You stopped yourself immediately. "Wait, never mind, I think I understand–"

"Last fanmails I received were of love letters written in blood and a clumsily taxidermied fox and jackal. That blood is presumably from the animals based on Dottore's DNA samplings." There’s a dark tone as he speaks Dottore’s name, and you know you’re not ready to unpack all that.

"R-Right." Your throat dried up. You're such an idiot. You can't believe you forgot about that. That incident was such a big eye-opener in the idol industry regarding stalker fans. 

The idol industry may be a trove of wonderful content but it is also home to the obsessed and unexplainably cruel.

"Hence, I'd rather not remind myself of fan gifts." Cyno closed his eyes. "It sours my mood."

“T-Then what did you receive?” You tilted your head. “Wait, sorry, I just realized I’m prying too much.”

“Just…” 

Cyno is an honest man. Too honest, in fact, that he almost couldn’t lie by omission.

Almost.

“Just some unfinished business from Teyvat Productions.”

“Is it my business or yours?”

His eyes widened.

For the first time in weeks, you have caught him off guard. 

“It’s…” He shook his head, sighing. “It’s mine.”

“Oh,” you muttered. “O-Of course it’d be yours. I don’t know why I even thought someone they didn’t even hire would get a notif for something.”

Cyno chuckled softly. 

He seemed to have thought that what you said was funny, but you can’t put a finger as to why.

"You remind me of something Tighnari loved to say."

You weakly met his gaze and laughed. "And that is?"

He gently put his hand above yours, his auburn eyes peeking into yours underneath his white eyelashes softly.

"Never underestimate an outsider." He said. "People like you– people like us are not as unfortunate as we may seem. Unlike the staff inside the industry, we are more likely to see the bigger picture, wouldn't you agree?"

"... I think I get your point, but I don't necessarily agree." 

Cyno exhaled, his shoulders deflating. 

It's okay if you do not see the truth in his words.

When Cyno decides on something, he's unlikely to change his mind. Little by little, he'll make you see that you're wonderful even when stripped away of some occupational title like him.

You'll see his perspective eventually.

And you'll thank him once the day comes.

—-------

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say at all, you big lummox!”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“You’re really going to sabotage (Y/n)’s career?! I just told you– they could be my new assistant, damn it. And for what, exactly? Even Alice is vouching for their recruitment. They just made a mistake, that’s all! Here I thought you were SUUUCH a caring friend, so why–”

“It’s because I care that I’m not letting them get close to Teyvat Productions ever again. You know the horrors of the idol industry as much as I do, Tigh. Likely even more.”

“...”

“...”

“... Do you still dream about it? Dottore’s experiments, those letters?”

“I do.”

“... *sigh* How can I even counter your argument when you’re always so painfully earnest?”

“You know why.” Cyno became like this for a reason.

“... What now. What do you want me to do with this letter of recommendation?”

“Burn it.”

“...”

“Tighnari, they’re the happiest when they’re with me.”

“... Cyno, you’re a broken man.”

“I know.”

Cyno peeked out the corner of his eye as he watched you pick up a new book in the romance section.

A silly grin made its way onto Cyno’s face subconsciously. 

“But that no longer matters now that I found someone I can be alone together with.”

Ansytea: Thank you so much for joining the idol event, solitary anon!!! <3

[terrence-silver]

I’m not sure if you saw that Reddit story about the guy who turned his air conditioning way colder than normal so that his wife cuddled with him while they slept but that gives me such Terry Silver vibes and I want to know what you think

Oh, he'd do more than just that.

Sure, amping up the air conditioning system to influence the environment to ensure (and very, very subtly manipulate) beloved into seeking out his body warmth because they're shivering from the cold, but also? Also?

Terry ensuring it's way more humid and warm indoors than it reasonably has to be purely to see beloved sweating and perspired. Terry keeping the mansion drafty with it's many windows open, at times, just so he could see the occasional gust of wind toy with their clothes and hair. Terry the Machinator. Terry the Tactician. Terry with an immaculately trimmed estate lawn with built in remote-control sprinkles that can go off any time and give beloved a good and unexpected splash, because he wants to see them wet. Peel them out of their moist attire afterwards, not that he needs extra excuses; he just like the scheming part of it. Terry with floor and wall heating there to ensure beloved can technically walk around with as little clothes as they please, because, again, it's awfully hot in here. Terry keeping certain rooms deliberately dark and dim just to keep beloved unbalanced and titillated --- others, entirely light so he'd keep them aware. Terry influences the space around himself to achieve a specific effect what he wants to achieve, if need be, and how he does that is as varied and as multiple as environments and their external or internal factors can be. So, quite literally speaking? The world's Terry Silver's oyster. That air conditioning unit is there to serve his desires like a teensy, tinsy, unassuming weapon in his arsenal --- it's called conditioning for a reason. And why wouldn't it be? If it can have beloved cozying up to him as close as they can, looking for comfort and an embrace, than clearly, he's won and all it took was tweaking the remote a bit.

[weniswastelandwenis]

Fallout 4 Companions React to Sole Asking Them to Punish Her

Cait:

Suggests that she and Sole take some Jet together. When Sole isn’t looking Cait replaces the Jet with chili powder which Sole sucks into their lungs with gumption. Sole spends the next two weeks in emergency care and their lungs are never the same again, however Cait gets a real kick out of it. 

Codsworth:

Admits he’s always felt that they’re a bad parent and a whore. Tells them they have two working hands and too much free time and could have trimmed their own hedges and body hair without him doing it for them. 

Curie:

Spends the night teasing and tormenting them sexually for how naughty they’ve been. Spanks them sexily and makes them promise to be good for mommy in the future. 

Danse:

Denies them food and water for two days. 

Deacon:

When they are walking together to the next dead drop Deacon suddenly sticks out a foot and trips Sole. Sole falls hard and suddenly, however Deacon made the mistake of tripping them near a cliff. Gravity does it’s worst and Sole goes tumbling down the side of the mountain like a bouncy ball. All that can be heard are the cracking of their bones and skull until they disappear into the dark chasm. From above it sounds like a hungry deathclaw may have found their remains and taken them back from whence they came. Deacon looks down at the abyss and places another pair of sunglasses over his sunglasses. “Well,” He said with a sigh. “THAT just happened!” 

Hancock:

Immediately takes off his belt and tells her to bend over on his mayoral desk. “This will probably hurt, a lot.” He says gruffly. Loud SLAPS! And BANGS! Are heard from his office. The two ghoul guards grimly look at each other, hoping to not get anything he’s dishing out. By the time he’s finished they’re too sore to sit down and glumly leaves his office, both palms cradling their ass.

MacCready:

Brings sole to the middle of nowhere. He only brought a shovel and a backpack. Silently, Sole helps him dig a giant square pit, 20 ft deep and wide. As they’re turning to ask MacCready what this is all for, he kicks them in the pit and Sole gets the wind knocked out of them, only to feel hundreds of snakes getting thrown into the pit by the man himself. Snakes on top of snakes cover their form, creating a writhing ocean of the reptiles. Sole was never heard from again.

Valentine:

Gets Sole secluded in an interrogation room and attaches live wires to their nipples. Nick then conducts a lengthy interview about where they were from, how they got here, and what Sole’s intentions were. He never fully believed their ‘frozen in cryostasis’ story, and the whole thing smelled of a Commie plot to get the Pinkos back in office. 

Piper:

Invites Sole over to help her with the next big break in a case she was working on. Nat joins them in the room and looks over to Piper excitedly. Sole smiles, wondering what she’s so excited about. “What, what’s going on?” Piper grumbled and quietly growled at her sister. “Don’t blow this Nat.” Quickly her smile reappeared on her face, but Sole was unnerved by how unnatural it looked. “Come into this back room, I want to show you something Blue.” Sole followed behind her and was met with a giant printing press machine. It easily could’ve been worth $10,000 caps. They whistled. “Impressive hunk of machinery, Piper. What’s it for?” Piper squinted her eyes. “This. NOW NAT!” All at once, Piper grabbed Sole by the shoulders and threw their body into the machine. Nat pressed the big red button that turned it on. It arose from its slumber, gears cranking loudly, and as its powerful dangerous metal arms pressed ink onto the papers within it, it treated Sole’s body as another sheet of newspaper. They quickly became flat stanley, and were never heard from again. Though, next time you’re reading public occurrences, do look a little closer at the page, and see if it blinks back…

Preston:

He says a settlement needs Sole’s help once again, but this journey would be a bit more treacherous than Sole is used to. Together they both get into Power Armor and make their way to the Glowing Sea. “How are settlers alive all the way out here?” Sole asks. “They’re not.” Preston’s voice says from behind her. Suddenly the lights shut off in their power armor, and many warnings sound off inside her suit. “What’s happening! What are you doing?” Preston pulled the fusion core from its place then walked out in front of her wielding it, tossing it a bit in his hand with a smirk. “I warned you general. I warned you about those settlers that needed your help, over, and over. And you just wouldn’t listen.” His voice sounded angry, and defeated. The effects of the radiation were almost immediate to Sole as it seeped into their unworking suit, and after 2 minutes, they were gone.

Strong:

Climbs to the top of Trinity Tower, Sole in hand, and perches at the top like King Kong. After a couple minutes he flings them like a football, scoring the winning goal.

X6:

Walks away and is gone for a day. When Sole sees him again he is building a large structure out of wood. Sole realizes it is a large cross, and before they speak he clubs them in the head with a champagne bottle. Sole wakes up crucified on the cross and is left up there for a couple days while X6 smirks and watches while drinking a big gulp.

[fairykukla]

Making a Magus

I do love making costumes, no matter what scale. I have always loved dolls, and it's so sweet when the hyperfocus gets engaged and lets me just jump in and create.

Here is the poll I put up, where I explained my frustration with male dolls; it's the wardrobe:

I should do these as tutorials.

I neglected to take photos, but I went ahead and started on my 12" BJD wardrobe. I found the fabric scrap I was looking for, so I figured I'd get started.

So here's my biggest secret: a good T-Tunic Pattern. You can search online for it, but here's a pretty good tutorial.

I particularly like the illustration with all the great variants. I made some of these last year, tunics, robes, and gowns for D&D&D. I just don't add any gussets, like I would for a person sized garment.

This is the general shape I used for the outer robe for my little magus:

Kind of halfway between these two shapes.

I didn't have bias tape in the right color or size, and not nearly enough fabric to cut any.

So I used a piece of ribbon for the front seam, and a little placket for the neckline. At this scale, it will serve.

I will state for the record that it's really important to clip your curves,should you use any.

It's not quite done; I have the hems to finish. I might want to bust out the serger for them, but I'm going to let my hind brain make that call overnight.

The hat started as two 4.5" circles, and a piece of interfacing fused to the wrong side of the main fabric. I sewed them together with a tiny seam allowance (about 1/8") then cut a small hole through the middle of the lining fabric.

I clipped the whole brim and trimmed away the interfacing to the seam line. Then I turned it through the tiny hole and carefully flattened it out by hand, then by iron.

I made a cone shape out of one of the only pieces of scrap big enough to do so. I fused interfacing to the back of that as well.

There are tutorials and patterns out there to help you get the math right, but I find that I prefer to just "eyeball" it. I made the cone big enough for his head, aiming for slightly big (in case of wigs). I then traced a circle in the center and cut it out of all three layers of the brim.

I hand-stitched the hat. I probably could have put it under the machine, but it's pretty small. I sewed the star print to the star print, right sides together with a little bitty whip stitch over the edge. I left the lining piece alone for now.

I think he likes it! I'm going to look for my grey mohair so I can make him a wig and beard.

[kolour-me-kourt]

Chapter Eight: Loose End

"Hey I'm not even trying to be funny I am happy for you and you didn't owe me anything but I thought you wasn't ready for a relationship? Now you're out with Jayson Tatum? That's wild to me like I said you don't owe me anything but you didn't have to lie I'm a cool ass nigga"

Lorenzo's message sent shivers down her spine the only thing that she hadn't thought about in this world wind romance with Jayson.... Was Lorenzo. She decided to text him asking him to come over so they could talk and he'll be here in five minutes. She contemplated telling him everything because Lorenzo seemed like he could handle it.

But she didn't want to tell him and then he tell the world about Lamelo or she didn't wanna tell him and he really see how fucked up she was. Cause she's done some fucked up shit to him and those could be memories she messes up forever just by telling the truth. Meeting one of your favorite basketball players.... But the girl you're pursing is fucking him..... going out to dinner with him and his girlfriend and your potential boo is arguing with him in the bathroom several things could go wrong. She heard her doorbell go off so she invited him in.

"Heyy" "hey ma how you been?" He hugged her tight "we're gonna get into that... you wanna sit down?" she could tell Lorenzo had revenge on his mind he smelled of expensive cologne he had on a nice outfit and a fresh ass haircut with his beard trimmed but still looking .... Edible.

"Yeah In the living room?" "Mhm... you want a water or anything?" "Yeah a bottle will be nice" "okay go get comfortable I'll grab you one" "thank you" she grabbed him a water bottle and then hands it to him sitting down right beside him with her leg in the chair. "Um how have you been first" "I'm good you know working staying busy" "oh that's really good" "yeah but we here to talk about you" they share a laugh

"Sooo thank you for coming I hope you really hear me out" "look I was out of it when I sent that message I saw the pictures everywhere and was just confused and hurt all at the same time so you don't have to apologize" she placed her hand on his chest "I do though the whole thing was fucked up Lorenz and I mean that so from the bottom of my heart I am sorry but no I didn't lie to you everything I said was truthful I can't get into details but yeah I was seeing someone when Trin hooked us up and the second date was genuine I did wanna try and date you cause you seemed so good but I just didn't feel right completely and you didn't either cause you saw the truth I was dealing with someone else who had my mind so when you broke it off I was relieved but all this shit that just happened I didn't expect it at all so I was glad you texted so I can tell you I'm sorry"

She found herself teary eyed he stands up opening and closing his hand signaling for her to stand up "give me a hug" she smiled standing up hugging him "I accept your apology we can even be friends.... If you want to um it's no bad blood" "you promise?" "Yeahhh I was dating too when I met you but I did like you Fr but like I said I wasn't mad you was seeing somebody Im mad cause I thought you were lying" "oh okay then yeah ... we're friends" he laughed

"alright Um thanks for clearing everything up I hope you're relationship is your last one and it's happy" "same for you You're a good man and somebody will appreciate that" "shittt she better or I'll start hoeing" he joked but she could tell he was low key serious. "Nah don't do that she might be right around the corner" "hopefully ... but let me get out of here thanks for reaching out" "yeah thanks for coming" she walked him to the door hugging him again and then he left" she shut and locked her door exhaling.

She had only been home for three minutes before he texted her she needed to do laundry and unpack get herself together cause she had work in the morning. She finally got her laundry in the washing machine and took a shower she checks her phone and she missed a call from Jayson.

She calls him back and he answered pretty soon. "Hey were you sleep?" "No in the shower" "oh okay" she laughed "you asking for a reason?" "I just miss you my mom has deuce for a few hours .... I just wish we were closer to each other" "yeah I really had to work tomorrow from the office" "no I get you completely... I was just saying I miss you" "I miss you too" "what you been doing?" "just cleaning all my stuff from being out there and getting ready for work tomorrow so it can be a good day ... you know?"

"Yes I definitely know it'll be a great day I know a lot has changed and little blogs have been posting you ... I didn't even think they would do that or I would've taken you somewhere else for our first date" "I loved our first date I wouldn't change it for the world" he smiles again "I loved it too .... You in that pink dress .... Damn" she laughed "baby pleaseeee" "I

Just saying we had all that fun I even beat yo ass in bowling" "first of all you only one but that one strike" "One strike you didn't have but anyway you had me already but if you didn't that pink dress would've did it"

"ughhh I can't wait to see you again I've only been gone for a few hours" "I know crazy how that happened huh?" "You gotta come see me next time" "you gon show me around your city?" "Of courseee" "yeah show me where all your ex Niggas stay so I know where the opps at" they shared a laugh she rolled her yes "okay baby clearly your sleepy" "yeah I am but I wanna to talk to you so here I am until Deuce get back" "Deuce has a better social life than me out partying on a Thursday" "speaking of that you told your friends or anything yet?" She sighed

"no I definitely wanted too before the blogs picked up Fr but ... idk you know they're calling me the mystery woman" "yeah I saw that ... it's interesting" "that's one word to call it" "well you can tell them..... we not a secret remember?" "Yes and I will tell them I just don't know if that's a text message" "did they know about Melo?" "Only people who knew about Melo is me him and you well Asia knew too" "what made you trust me?" "You're my man and you've shown that you wouldn't do that so..." "you right bae you get the real me at all times" "mmm so when am I gonna see you?"

"I don't know I gotta work all this shit out I have a couple meetings and Deuces schedule you know ... but I'll figure it all out and then be straight to you... I promise" "that's so sweet Bae" "I know I'm the man" "what's your plans for tomorrow?" "Getting a hair cut and practice " "mmm you gonna cut your curls?" "Yeah maybe I haven't decided Fr.... what? you like me better with them?" What's your famous quote? You top five regardless so it doesn't matter" she smiled "I better be your top one no other Niggas before" "yes sir of course not" she laughed

"What's your plans for tomorrow?" "Find a bookcase and some books" "easy to build?" "Yes definitely something I can just slide this in this and boom I have a book case" he laughed "what books do you like?" "Well I kinda wanna fill it up with books I already read and then like series so all the Harry Potter books all of twilight shit maybe even goosebumps stuff like that it's my nostalgic book case" "oh okay I got you that'll be fun"

"yeah If I don't do it right after work tomorrow then I'll probably just wait until Saturday morning when I have more time" "I think you should wait Bae you don't wanna rush your purchases" "you know what you right" "I know I am"

she heard his front door open "well okay Bae  goodnight I'll talk to you tomorrow" "goodnight text me when you get up" "okay I will" she hears Deuce calling for him "byee" "bye YN" she hangs up

*the next day after work*

She calls her closest friends Asia Trin and Maya In a group face time.

"What y'all up to? Y'all wanna come over here?" "You inviting us to your house what you do? Is it a body we need to cover up? Hold up don't answer that on the phone" maya began rambling YN laughed "shutup girl" trin says laughing harder "no I just wanted to tell y'all something but like it can be over the phone too I guess "alright yeah just tell us" "I'm have a boyfriend ...." "Oh shit?" "Yeah Um Jayson Tatum NBA player plays for Celtics"

"the one with all the tattoos?" "Wait the one with the kid?" "Yesss that's him" "well we're happy for you but he is a nba player take it slow" "yeah he's really good though like he's not like the other ones I really feel like he's different and wouldn't treat me wrong.... But yeah that's all I wanted to tell y'all" "welllllll like she said we happy for you have fun you deserve this"

The conversation goes on taking many turns talking about a lot of different things when YN hears her doorbell. "Oh shit who at my door?" "Go see take the phone" YN walks to the door and sees a package "oh nobody it's just a package" "you were expecting one?" "Not at all" she opens her door and it's a long big box and a few more boxes "yall it's like five boxes out here" "oh shit call us later then get your stuff in" "okay byeee love y'all" YN hangs up pushing the largest box in first and then going to pick up the smaller boxes but they were heavy too. While she was outside she though she might as well check her mail too. She found a hand written note from Jayson making her smile

Since you're all about nostalgia I found every series you said and through some funny ones in there and I got you a book case bae... enjoy it

He listens to her it's really the little things likeeee a five second conversation turned into him getting her what she wanted. She calls him immediately smiling ear to ear. "You got my book case and some books... thank you baby" "uh huh it was nothing I started looking for the stuff while you were talking I hope you enjoy it baby" "I definitely will" "okay Bae I'm going into practice but I'll call you when I'm back home" "okay byeee Jay" "bye Bae"

She loved it here everything was coming together finally. Lamelo was out of her life sexually meaning she didn't have to deal with all of that nonsense. Lorenzo wasn't mad at her. She had a new boyfriend who was great and her friends knew about him everything was great. Are her loose ends were tied up

[silentvoicescryingout]

Hana

Ino loved Sakura through all her phases–sometimes from up close, and sometimes from afar. Sometimes her love was sweet and bright, like dango-sticks. Other times it drilled deep into parts of her that were dark, cold and dampened like the underlayers of scorched, fertile soil. 

She loved things from their beginning, loved them to their end once or twice.

Her mother had told her she was simply made that way–born with soil in one hand, and seeds in the other, always looking for places to plant roots, seeking new lives to nurture and tend to. A true florist's daughter, able to coax even the shyest petals to unfurl in the light with the gentle strength of her hands. Some were poisonous, some healing and others that could provide sustenance and strength.

From the day she first laid eyes on a girl with cherry blossom hair and rose petal cheeks, lily pad eyes and a cherry-like mouth, it was as if all she dreamed of was spring. 

Sakura. 

She tended to her with more care than she gave to any of the other beings that grew in her garden. She was Ino’s special blossom, which at the beginning needed consistent attention and murmured words to coax quivering buds to spread open fragile petals. Her project of passion that could so easily be scared into dormancy by a strong breeze or droplet of icy water.

She fertilized her soil with her own two hands, imbuing confidence, grit, nutrients of character. She showered her with praises, moistening delicate stems so they might grow firmer, stronger to withstand the harsh winds of harsher words and cutting gazes. 

Ino watched and waited, cradled her close and stiffened her spine when she wilted, when she cried her petals dry. Some days, she wanted to keep her in glass, protect her in full bloom, for people to admire but only herself to reach in and feel.

She pushed when all she wanted was to pull closer, forcing herself away from this sprouting blossom she’d planted, watching as her roots burrow deeper, spread farther than just her own garden. And, oh, did she bloom: a wild thing invading outside soils, rooting itself and taking shape in so many other peoples’ hearts.

And when she was torn, uprooted by his traumas and psychotic machinations, Ino was there once more. Cradling her in gentle hands, carefully replanting. She became sunlight, and drowned her cherry blossom in it. She poured and poured, until Sakura no longer wilted, until the stems thickened and petals unfurled in the brightest shade of pink she had ever seen.

When the day came that the earth split and fell open under their feet and the sky bled with the tears of a thousand lifetimes, she finally looked with her eyes instead of searching for meaning with her planter’s hands.

Ino saw Sakura in a way she had never before. She realized that her blossom, her beloved flower, thrived best under conditions that she was not able to provide. No matter the ways in which she tended her, shielded her (and trimmed away at her, clipped her stems) she grew, stretching higher, branching wide and bright in the nighttime, face upturned to the dark, luminescence of a stoic night sky.

So, she watched as the flower was plucked from her garden, silencing the cries of her aching heart and focusing instead on the way those blood-stained hands handled the blossoms with such care, fingers scarred and gnarled, stroking against those vibrant petals oh so gently. 

She would be planted elsewhere to sweeten the worlds with her fragrance; she could only hope it was under the widest and starriest of skies.

Yugao, Ino mused— breathless as she watched him watch her, with those deep, dark, eyes— would have been a better name for a woman who blossomed as Sakura did, under the dark gray and lavender sides of the moon.

Tag list: @ephemeredoll @lezzxe @psalloacappella

[blaiddfailcam]

A couple of tricks for gififying Bloodborne on console

Understandably, not many people bother making gifs of Bloodborne as it still isn't officially on PC, and the workarounds to do so unofficially require a fair bit of hassle that most won't bother with, particularly if it requires purchasing a PS4/Bloodborne Machine for that sole purpose. To think one of the most visually enthralling games ever made is utterly without even a mod for photo mode... It makes my head shudder.

Thankfully, I'm a weirdo who finds joy in manipulating the camera on console versions anyway, because I was always too lazy to get a PC for the like 3 game series I care to play. So here are a few insights I've uncovered in my first few hours of reabsorbing the colorful (metaphorically speaking) sights that Yharnam has to offer.

Wall-crouch, the Ol' Reliable

Just like in Elden Ring, standing near a wall in Bloodborne and then hunkering down so the Hunter is out of view allows for some wide FOV shots. Unlike Elden Ring, however, FromSoft hadn't devised a foreground object transparency effect, which can be somewhat irritating at times, but on the other hand allows for some fun perspectives.

Also unlike Elden Ring, there's no crouch button. This means one has to resort to the "Sit" and "Prayer" gestures, which are painfully slow when trying to capture enemies or transitory environmental hazards.

Damn you, OTS monocular

The monocular is Bloodborne's equivalent of Dark Souls' binoculars or Elden Ring's telescope, but with some choice differences. For one, it doesn't put you into first-person perspective, but rather into an extremely zoomed over-the-shoulder, meaning the bottom and right of the frame are constantly obfuscated by the Hunter's shoulder and head, and any two-handed weapon will block the view entirely.

However, there are a couple of caveats. The player still has all the same gameplay functionality while in monocular mode, with the exception of running or locking on. This means that wherever they stand, the player can once again use the "Sit" or "Prayer" gestures to drop the Hunter out of view, making those close-up shots of smaller environments and objects once again feasible without having to crop out the Hunter and wind up with a muddy gif. (Again, this is a clunky method that doesn't work terribly well for enemy encounters, but it's not entirely impossible.)

Bless you, OTS monocular

As mentioned, the player retains a good deal of mobility in monocular mode, making it possible to record panning/dolly shots with a careful mind for how to hide the Hunter's shoulder. If the player moves to the right, the Hunter slides almost entirely out of frame; moving uphill also drops the Hunter out of view, which is handy in a surprising number of places already.

Oh, but be sure to wear form-fitting gear. Having a shot fudged by a feathered tricorn can be frustrating. I suggest sticking to the Foreign Hood or Prospector Hood, as they maintain a trim silhouette while also hiding the Hunter's hair. Also be aware that shouldered parts of trick weapons and stick out past the Hunter's shoulder.

○ ○ ○

That's all I've got for now, but it's been fairly helpful in getting all sorts of new perspectives on a game I've played dozens of times already since 2016 (I was a year late to the party).

You can probably detect hints of the Hunter's presence in some of these gifs, whether I had to keep just a smidgen of their shoulder in view or if the camera staggers with their footsteps, but I kind of like letting those slide sometimes.

I'll be experimenting with consumables later, particularly Pungent Blood Cocktails. Too bad they only work on so many enemies.

Until then...

[alex-the-nonsensologist]

Disney Dreamland - Part 6: Discoveryland

Here it is, the final part! This area follows in the footsteps of Discoveryland in Paris, allowing more creative freedom than the traditional Tomorrowland. The land would be divided into two major “time periods”, one based on Victorian era / Belle Époque steampunk, and the other based on a high-tech modern day digital era that would evolve from said steampunk era.  There would be a decent amount of greenery in the land, none of those lifeless metal tree sculptures. Trees could be in their natural form in the steampunk half, while in the modern day half they could be trimmed into neat geometric shapes.

Timeless Square

This area serves as the entry point from the hub. It is in-between the two major time periods of the land, bridging them. Would feature a detailed astronomical clock tower landmark. 

“Discoveryland Thru the Years”: Successor to Carousel of Progress / Progressland, one of the four New York World’s Fair attractions. Tells the land’s “history” progression from the turn of the 20th century to the modern day, and ends with an optimistic hope for the future. I didn’t call it a carousel to avoid confusion with the other actual carousels I put in the park, but it is still a rotating theater.

Discoveryland PeopleMover: Successor to Ford Magic Skyway, one of the four New York World’s Fair attractions. A relaxing classic ride that weaves all throughout Discoveryland, including through various attraction buildings. The only challenge would be creating a vehicle that matches the aesthetics of both time periods of the land. 

Discovery Academy

The steampunk-inspired half of the land. While the theming uses elements of British Victorian steampunk, the architecture would mostly be modeled after Art Nouveau / Belle Époque Paris. I want the vibe of the area to be similar to a college campus or museum, but a really fancy inviting one, not a cold imposing one. In the center of the building is the Automaton Courtyard, a garden courtyard to rest and relax, but also part-walkthrough attraction. Would feature lots of fancy automatons and 3D zoetropes that guests can activate. Includes:

Butai Karakuri theater: Performances by Japanese automatons. 

Steampunk Carousel: In the center of the garden. Animals could be artistic sculptures made of metal and gears.

Gift shop that sells mini wind-up automaton toys, and features coin-activated booths for drawing automata that produce souvenir pictures.

This area also includes:

Escher Exhibit & Mathmagic Land: Walkthrough attraction inspired by the artwork of M. C. Escher, particularly the multi-dimensional maze of “Relativity”. Guests can also view optical illusion sculptures such as the Penrose triangle and the Impossible trident.  Alternatively, I wouldn’t mind an attraction based on “Donald in Mathmagic Land” either. Giant numbers and “square root” trees would dominate the landscape. Interactive geometric shapes and puzzles.

Astronomical Orbiter: This indoor version features a planetarium ceiling that projects the stars and colorful galaxies so guests can actually feel like they’re flying through space. Diverting for both riders and guests still waiting in the queue. Inspired by the Chamber of Planets in Fortress Explorations from Tokyo DisneySea. 

The Time Machine: Dark ride inspired by EPCOT’s Spaceship Earth. Travel through various time periods from the age of dinosaurs to the start of the Victorian era (so as not to conflict with the fictional history of the land).

Cafeteria: British, French, and Indian cuisine. Buffet.

“Paris Métro” station: As mentioned previously, this is probably not feasible idea, but I think it’s very neat. Provides underground transport between Discoveryland and Mysteryland (the Mysteryland is themed to the London Underground). The tunnels could contain zoetropes for guests to view during the ride, which tease the theme of the destination land.

Explorer’s Landing

Technically part of the Academy, but features attractions that are “off campus”. Inspired by the original concept of Discovery Mountain for Paris. Features a lagoon for the submarines, and a mountain range for the other rides to blend into; would somewhat resemble the Mysterious Island from Tokyo DisneySea.

Soaring Skies / Weather Kites: Airships are a core part of steampunk, but I wasn’t sure where to put such a ride in my park that didn’t disrupt sightlines. I eventually settled on a version of Soaring. I love Tokyo’s iteration, but sadly, my version of the ride does without the fantasy aspects and GORGEOUS fantasy artwork, but the queue will still feature neat “history of flight” and weather exhibits. Ride vehicles would of course fit the steampunk aesthetic. Most important of all, I want the ride movie to focus on skyscapes and natural landscapes, not famous landmarks (I personally don’t mind the landmarks version, I think it was balanced out nicely with some nice landscapes, but now all the ride movies are the same which is boring). I want winding rivers through forest valleys, fluffy white clouds over mountain peaks with machines blowing clouds on the guests, golden sunsets over the sea, lightning storms with thunder and actual wind blowing and rain spraying the guests, and a starry night sky with a brilliant rainbow Aurora Borealis over a snowy tundra. The building exterior and queue could resemble a giant air zeppelin in an air hangar, similar to the Hyperion in Paris, based on the unbuilt Discovery Bay concept. In hindsight, this area probably has too many rides, so this attraction could also be moved to the Wild Western Frontier area in Adventureland, and be rethemed to environments of the American West, the Rocky Mountains, and the Pacific Northwest. 

Journey to the Center of the Earth: I absolutely love Tokyo DisneySea’s version. It's one of the best rides out of Imagineering, but in my park, this would follow the original drop tower concept for Paris.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea / Expedition Atlantis: Suspension ride like the one in Tokyo DisneySea, with water filled windows that bubble to create the illusion of being underwater. Could either be another take on Jules Verne’s novel, or based on the Atlantis movie. Either one works.

The Nautilus underwater restaurant: Seafood dishes. Table service. 

Lunar Mountain: Based on Paris’s original De la Terre à la Lune incarnation of Space Mountain. I love the idea of a giant cannon firing guests into space, and I especially love the cannon’s design with the classical illustrations of the sun and the moon on it. I also prefer the look of Paris’s more secure seats. I’ve only ridden Tokyo and Orlando’s versions, and as fun as they are, I always get an irrational gut feeling I’m going to be decapitated during the ride. 

Journey to Treasure Planet / Journey to Mars: Omnimover dark ride. To sell the idea of blasting off into space, guests would ride in a “rocket elevator” prior to boarding, similar to the entry performance for the Space 220 Restaurant in EPCOT. Treasure Planet is another movie that deserves more recognition, but due to it taking place in another universe with its own separate world-building, I am also okay with this ride having an original story instead. Perhaps a trip to Mars with a secret civilization living under the planet’s surface. For reference, I’m thinking of something inspired by the Castle in the Stars graphic novel series by Alex Alice. The building facade could resemble an observatory. 

“Planetarium restaurant”: Would feature international dishes not available in the Small World buffet. Table service. The Space 220 Restaurant was really neat (if a little overpriced), and I would love a steampunk version in my park. 

Disney Dreamland Railroad Discoveryland station: Art Nouveau steampunk style.

Discovery Institute

The modern digital half of the land. Discoveryland opens a new campus dedicated to computer sciences. I do not want this area to look sterile like the current Tomorrowlands, though I might be okay with it resembling Shanghai’s version of Tomorrowland; I have heard their glass structures described as “organic” and I quite agree. I want the architecture of the area to be a believable evolution from the Art Nouveau steampunk, with the curves of Nouveau transforming into the curves of something resembling what Tokyo has planned for their renovation of Space Mountain. 

Visions of Tomorrowland: Based on an idea I once had of a version of Tomorrowland that represents alternate timeline futures. This ride could show different “what if” scenes of different Discoverylands.  There could be a main story featuring a scientist as our host, the inventor of a multiverse portal, showcasing his invention to guests, and along the way we run into alternate versions of the scientist from the other realities. One version could be a classic mad scientist from a dystopian world, bent on conquering other dimensions and exploiting their resources, and our host has to fight them off. I guess you could describe this as a much more immersive sci-fi version of the Jungle Cruise. While I would prefer this to be a ride, I guess it could also work as a stage show.

Adventure Thru Inner Space: I have heard nice things about this ride and would have loved to experience it. Shout-out to @disneylanddilettante.

Robot Showcase: Omnimover dark ride. This ride is basically just an excuse to show off high-quality animatronics. Animatronics for days! Could include Baymax, Wall-E, and Lil Bulb as cameos in the ride. 

“Robot Cafe”: Based on the unbuilt concept for The Great Gonzo's Pandemonium Pizza Parlor. This restaurant would have robot animatronics deliver guests’ food by way of an overhead "train track" system.

Cyberspace Arcade

Technically an area within the Discovery Institute, but significantly different enough to require its own description. The entire area would be indoors.   Guests are “digitally transported” into Cyberspace. For visual reference, I’m thinking of the concept art for the (maybe canceled?) Play! Pavilion at EPCOT, but without the Ralph Breaks the Internet branding (I LOVE Wreck-It Ralph, but the sequel not so much) and without all the Disney IP spam (I’m already putting in three movie based rides, so the IP quota has been met). I want the area to feel more like a representation of a private server, or at least a single website, instead of the broader Internet (the Internet is a very scary family-UNfriendly place). The "sky" would have cool graphic projections, similar to how Mamoru Hosoda visually portrayed the Internet in Summer Wars and Digimon Adventure: Our War Game! As for the three movie based rides, I want the explanation to be that the scientists wanted to be able to travel into their favorite video game worlds, and here is the result. The entrances to each attraction could look like a giant icon you can click on. There could also be an actual arcade area, for guests to just relax and chill. That area would feature actual working console games of Fix-It Felix Jr, Sugar Rush, and Hero’s Duty.

“Cyberspace Playground”:  Guests can physically change the environment by interacting with it. If anyone has watched Infinity Train, think of something like the first episode’s Grid Car, but on a grander scale. Could utilize interactive projection mapping.

Videopolis: Stage for live entertainment and dance parties. Just an excuse to have a specific area dedicated to the 80s / 90s. …I just really miss the 90s, okay? I also think the retro music would add the perfect energy to the area.

Star Command Astro Blasters: I honestly just put this here to help balance queue wait times with the other two major rides, and to have at least one thing based on retro space aesthetics. Between this and Toy Story Mania, at least this has physical sets and is less rushed. There would still be plenty of kinetic energy on the ride (not at all like the embarrassingly lifeless and static Ant-Man and Wasp update in Hong Kong). I would only change the animatronic Buzz to at least have a real face though. And maybe at the end of the ride, everyone could get free stickers or postcards or some other physical reward so that it feels like the points earned meant something. I would also emphasize that the context here is Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, NOT Andy’s Buzz from Toy Story. 

TRON Lightcycle Run: I have no personal attachment to Tron, but my friend @mewtwowarrior loves Tron, so this indoor coaster is included just for her. Shout-out to @pureimagineering for the idea of two different colored tracks that wind around each other in twists and turns as the two groups of guests race against each other. At the end of the ride, the unloading dock would flash the colors of the track that wins.

Sugar Rush Speedway: Wreck-It Ralph is my top favorite Disney movie. While the movie’s themes of mid-life crisis, rejection by society, and found family would be difficult to adapt into an attraction, this ride can at least embody the “love-letter to video games” aspect, and recreates one of the most visually stunning worlds Disney has ever designed. Sadly this ride makes no references to Ralph, King Candy/Turbo, or non-Princess Vanellope (which includes her glitch, hoodie outfit, and the kart she and Ralph made together), as those aspects are specific to the console in Litwak’s Arcade, and adding them to this ride would have sad implications that Mr. Litwak gave up his console and thereby separated the Sugar Rush characters from their community in Game Central. Alternatively, having the entire Arcade be themed as Litwak’s could fix that, but then would raise questions of why Mr. Litwak let a research team experiment on his games and interrupt his business. So it’s best that this Sugar Rush is a “generic” console to make things simple. That said, I have no issues if the candy shop makes reference to the movie’s events, or with having Ralph and Vanellope as walk around characters (we can say they’re visiting this Arcade via the Internet). When thinking about the queue, I considered it could wind through the candy box grandstands, so that guests that are still waiting for their ride could double as a cheering audience for the guests before them. The theme song by AKB48 would of course play on a loop. On the ride, guests would “race” through rich environments such as Gumball Gorge, Cherry Bomb Cakeway, the Frosty Rally ice cream mountains, and Diet Cola Mountain. To make it feel like a video game, there could be “power-ups” located throughout the ride. The guest that “claims” the power-up first (perhaps by pushing a timed button in their vehicles) gets the advantage. Power-ups can cause some karts to speed up or opponents slow down, or activate obstacles and surprises. Would it be a hazard to shoot “sprinkle” confetti at the guests? Alternatively, this ride could also possibly use virtual reality headsets to enhance the experience with visual effects and make the ride feel like even more of a game, as demonstrated by the Mario Kart ride at Universal Studios, a ride with gorgeous physical sets that is maximized by the VR (again, emphasizing that VR should not be a replacement for good physical sets and effects). The guest who wins the race could receive a free framed souvenir snapshot of their victory.

Finish Line Sweet Treats: Candy shop, bakery, and ice cream parlor. Based on Vanellope’s Sweets & Treats on the Disney Dream cruise ship. Guests could make their own kart cake at the Kart Bakery. Sundaes are served in trophy cups and replicas of Vanellope’s kart like the ones on the cruise ship. The Ralph-in-a-cupcake red velvet cupcake is a must. Would also feature a selection of Japanese sweets such as konpeito and mochi. Giant cotton candy like the kind you’d find in Harajuku.

Closing thoughts:

There was a lot I wanted to include, but couldn't think of solutions for, such as attractions based on Zootopia and Monsters Inc. But I'm quite happy with this end result. (I say this like it's actually being built, and not an elaborate daydream in my mind, lol.)

As you might have noticed, my park does not feature Marvel or Star Wars in any capacity. While there are some Marvel shows I like, I do not consider myself a Marvel fan, and I have little interest in Star Wars. And quite frankly, I think that visually, they clash horribly with most Disney aesthetics.

There are a lot of minor things I forgot to mention, like there would be plenty of benches and sitting areas with shade, plenty of restrooms, the food would have effort and quality put into it to be worth theme park prices, and backstage would have plenty of space and comfortable break rooms for Cast Members. Not related to the park itself, but I would also like to imagine the Cast Members here are paid and treated well, and have a good amount of free benefits, like park tickets and room and board for out-of-town residents and interns.  

I realize that in order to accommodate everything I want, this park would have to be MASSIVE, at least the size of Shanghai Disneyland. I just like far too many things. I realize it would have been smarter to break off some parts for a second park, but I'm just too fond of the idea of having everything all in one place.

As I mentioned, I REALLY love carousels and could not resist putting so many themed carousels in my park. They might not be exciting rides, but I legitimately think they are GORGEOUS works of art that add perfect visual beauty and musical atmosphere.

Much like Walt's initial sentiment, I don't think my ideal park will stay this way forever. Who knows, in a few years I might update this. We'll see. Thanks for taking the time to read these. :)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of the park:

World Galleria

Adventureland

Mysteryland

Fantasyland

Create-It-Land

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 9: Mommy Meltdown

The warm rays of the sun peek through the windows, thin strains of light softly illuminating the room in patches as Willow lay sleeping in her bed. Turned over on her side with her comforter pulled down to right below her shoulders. The aristocratic woman is in a deep slumber though it’s far past daybreak, her body heavy in the sheets as it sinks into the mattress like a stone thrown into the sea. Even the sound of her bedroom door opening and her personal maid Mary entering does nothing to stir the unfortunate lady from her rest. She enters with a food cart, carrying a tray table, Willow’s breakfast, and her daily surplus of alcoholic beverages. Mary walks up to her bedside, carefully observing her charge’s physical condition to ensure her vitals are in their usual state. Checking Willow’s pulse then her temperature and finally opening her mouth to check for her breathing and look for any signs of blockage such as vomit. Luckily her airway is clear, and her breathing is normal thus Mary can commence with the final step of rubbing Willow’s temple to wake her. The motion makes her stir and after several minutes Willow awakes to a sight, she’s gotten all too familiar with, Mary standing over her with a look of indifference on her face.

Mary: Good morning, Mistress Willow.

She says, voice pleasant but impersonal like the chime of a singing greeting card or public service reminder. Still, it was nowhere near the worst wake-up call she could have.

Willow: What time is it?

She asks, sitting up and rubbing her head as the usual pain flooded in. A gentle massage to wake her followed by the sting of a hangover to keep her up was just the way Willow found herself every day.

Mary: 10:14 am, it’s sunny with a chance of high winds and snow in the evening. Master has already departed for the day and Young Master has begun his daily studies.

Willow yawns, stretching out a bit to chase away the rest of her tiredness.

Willow: Has he eaten yet?

Mary: Of course, Mistress.

Willow: Was it enough?

Mary: You know the answer to that, Mistress.

Willow sighs, resignation and self-hatred looming over her head with a quickness that lightning bolts seem slow.

Willow: I know. I was just….

She sighs again, taking off her bonnet and running her hands through her silk-white hair.

Willow: I need a drink.

Mary: Your breakfast and morning bloody mary will be served to you after you freshen up.

Willow raises an eyebrow, annoyed at the denial of her much-needed beverage.

Willow: Really Mary?

Mary: I’m simply following orders and your doctor’s recommendation.

Willow: Good lord, when did I get old enough to need this much bedside manner?

She grumbles before getting out of bed, throwing on a long flowing, elegant fur-trimmed robe over her matching long periwinkle thin strapped nightgown and sliding on her satin slippers. The soft color making her soft pearly skin appear soft and fragile like a ceramic bust. Raising to her full height Willow was tall for a woman, just like her eldest daughter, standing almost a full head taller than Mary. Her stature however did not detract from her beauty, her voluptuous figure lending to her ethereal beauty.

But that’s what Willow was and had always been.

Despite her age, multiple pregnancies, depression, sham marriage, seemingly never-ending grief, and lush lifestyle Willow remained beautiful. She’d been a lovely infant, an adorable child, a gorgeous teen, a ravishing woman, and a beautiful mother. Even in her despair, she appeared more like a morose art fixture, not a person drowning in the suffering of herself, her children, and the legacy her father left behind. It was this beauty and the pure luck of being born to a man such as Nichols Schnee that enabled her to live as she had thus far. The Queen of high society, a beauty only found once in a millennium now a recluse who really showed her face in public. As she strides over to her en-suite bathroom Willow’s strides are graceful, slippers hitting the floor without so much as a tiny squeak. She washes her face, exfoliates, and lotions her skin before brushing her teeth and combing her hair, all tasks a woman of her wealth could have others do for her, but Willow was too proud to even think of it.

She was pampered but not so much to be even think of being babied. She wouldn’t dream of being so useless regardless of her other issues, Willow had been raised too strong to let herself be coddled into that kind of sloth.

She exits the bathroom with a clay face mask on and walks toward her balcony. It was a small one in comparison to the others around the manor but that was what Willow enjoyed about it. With just enough room for a small round table and chair, she could sit outside in the cool air, read, and drink as music from her vintage record player drifts in from its spot by the balcony doors. She sits down, letting to wind kiss her skin as the mask does its magic on. After a good ten minutes, she gets up to go back inside only to find Mary standing at the doors waiting for her.

Willow: Really Mary?!

Mary: Young Master insisted that you not be alone near hazardous areas. For your own safety.

Willow sighs and goes back inside without a fuss, Mary holding the door open from her. After removing the face mask, Willow sits on her bed and is served breakfast. A hearty meal of honeyed oatmeal, frittata, and a side of chopped strawberries. Still on the cart was her morning bloody Mary, which she’d have to finish her breakfast to get to.

Taking a whiff of her meal, Willow couldn’t deny that smelled and looked appealing but her appetite for food was simply not great enough to enjoy eating it. Not that her body wasn’t pleading for it, her stomach grumbling lowly as a knot of emptiness in it tightened, Willow just couldn’t muster the desire to eat. Knowing her temperament Mary takes the drink from the tray and stands close to Willow’s bedside. She keeps the beverage right at the edge of her mistress’s peripheral vision but far enough that it’s just out of arm’s reach. The sight hits just the right notes of Willow’s habit, her mouth feeling terribly dry and her tongue flickering against her lips as if begging for a taste. Knowing she wouldn’t get her desired nectar on an empty stomach Willow eats. Slowly, hardly tasting anything, she finishes everything on her plate at a graceful pace.

When she’s done Willow looks to Mary for her well-earned drink, only for her to present the woman with a handful of pills. Her daily medication.

Hoodwinked but at Mary’s mercy Willow takes her medicine dry, huffily gulping them down a few at a time with a grimace on her face. Pouting like a child who just sucked on a lemon. Mary ignores her attitude and nods approvingly before finally rewarding her mistress with her first taste of alcohol for the day. The bloody mary is smooth but spicy, the tingle from the vodka and sauce waking her up. The taste of the fresh tomato and lemon juice is nice and refreshing like a soft summer breeze.

Just like that much of her gloominess vanishes as she sips the rest of her drink. Her headache dissipated and Willow started feeling in a standard mood. With her morning routine completed the rest of the day was Willow’s to do with as she pleased. She had no true responsibilities outside of appearing at certain events and that was only when she truly wanted to. Those were contained to a select few holidays, some events established by her father, and her children's birthday parties.

Gods the children, they were the only thing keeping Willow alive after that bastard finally admitted to tricking her. The only reason she hadn’t hung herself that nice was because it was Weiss’s birthday, and she couldn’t end her life on the same day she’d brought a life into the world. And even after that, every time she felt the urge to end it all one of them had done something to make her want to stay even if it was just for another day.

She’d think of slitting her throat with her father’s sword and she would find Winter training with it in secret. She’d think of hanging herself in the dance studio only to find Weiss practicing her ballet. Tried to jump off the balcony in the ballroom but stopping when she heard Whitley playing a song on one of her pianos. A tune she’d played for him when he was so small, she doubted that he could have remembered it but had known it by heart years later. Truly her children were her lifeline and knowing the pain of losing a mother far too soon Willow, no matter how broken she’s become, could not bring herself to die while her children still struggled.

However, this was a double-edged sword.

Willow: Mary.

She calls, the maid looking at her with her neutral gaze.

Willow: I want to go for a walk.

She states, Mary nods in agreement and goes to fetch Willow something to wear. Now the process of dressing Willow for the day was critical in judging how the day would progress. Her most common outfit was a long dark blue pencil skirt, ruffled shirt, and purple with black tights and heels. But that was not all she had in her wardrobe.

The snow-haired woman had once been known as the Queen of high society and had the appeal to match. Many designer gowns, some one-offs made specifically for her, clothing of the highest quality, and more accessories than most would see in a lifetime. Most of her more delicate pieces were kept elsewhere but her everyday wear and her jewelry stayed in her room. This catalog of clothing could act as a mood and intent indicator as Willow would dress to do what she wanted, regardless of whether she knew she was going to do it or not.

For instance, her most common outfit was meant for walks in the garden and reading in her library as she day drinks. A stark white long-sleeved blouse, dark purple waist corset, and black pants were for taking up her old sword and practicing her swing on pictures of Jaques. And her periwinkle gown with matching shawl and silver accessories was for dancing about drunkenly in the ballroom when her treacherous husband was away.

The latter two were much more rare to see as the years went on, her outrage and burst of almost hysterical jelly slowing down as the depression set in. Mary had also done her best to keep this little shift under wraps to prevent any unfortunate incidents between the unhappily married couple. Doubly so when Penny was around but now that Jaques was out more frequently, and classes had ended the chances of these outbursts occurring had risen greatly. There still hasn’t been one thus far but Mary knew better than to be optimistic in this house. It was only a matter of time.

Pulling out Willow’s usual ensemble Mary is about to carry it over to the bed.

Willow: Wait, I want my satin gown.

She insists. Mary doesn't react and returns the clothing back to the closet before retrieving Willow’s requested outfit. It’s a long strapless mermaid dress with a long slit up the right leg, the bodice decorated in sliver embroidery of the Schnee family crest recontextualized as a glittering pattern. With it is a matching shawl, a pair of white opera gloves, and a silver jewelry set. A pair of silver shoes with periwinkle gems encrusted into the design which matched the dress. This was a custom-made gift from a dear friend who had made many of Willow’s special outfits. They were still in touch though not often and Willow would periodically receive a gift from here as a sort of care package. This was one of her favorites. Mary hands the garments over to her mistress who accepts them with a low hum of approval.

Given its construction, Mary has to help Willow zip the dress up once it’s on. After that Willow has no problem putting on the rest while Mary prepares her makeup and hair care products. When she is fully dressed Mary does her makeup and puts her hair in an updo to accommodate the matching snowflake hairpin needed to complete the look. Once everything was done Willow looked in the mirror, her pale lips were painted lilac with a black liner outlying her lips, her cheeks rosy from a touch of soft blush and her eyes appeared to shimmer from her bold silver-dusted smoke eye makeup. Though no makeup could the coldness in them, the aura of death and regret was too deep to be hidden under even the deepest layer of luxury.

Still, Willow could look at herself with a little less self-pity like this. Twirling in her dress, pretending for a moment that she was still the great flower she once was and not the withering fool she’d become. After a few long glances, she looks back at Mary with a pitiful smile.

Willow: I want to go to the garden first, to greet the flowers.

Mary: Yes, ma’am.

Soon they depart. Mary leaves the food cart behind beside the door for another maid to pick up and carries the wine bottles and glasses with her as they walk. Striding down the halls every staff member they pass gazes at Willow with either silent awe or horror before quickly getting out of the way. The entirety of the staff manning the Schnee household knew to stay far away from Willow for their safety and hers. The madam of the house was an unfortunate figure, there was no one who didn’t know of her miserable situation but that hardly outweighed the emotional time bomb Willow existed as. She could start weeping then turn to shouting if her mood flipped, usually because Jacques had done something to provoke her ire. If not that then it was the depressing air around her sapping the sanity of anyone who came too close. Even now dressed in her finest her presence was painful draining.

Regardless the staff still treated her with the reverence her position demanded. Butlers hold open the doors to the garden and gardeners clear any brush from the paths as Willow strides past the rows of flora and fauna. Under the light of midday, Willow stopped to smell the flowers and ran her free hand against petals and leaves while her other held her perpetually full wine glass. This was one of her few safe places in the manor, the safest in fact due to Jacques's distaste for the loveliness of nature.

His disinterest had perplexed her back when their courtship began but Willow disregarded it as a personal preference. No couple had everything in common, even her parents had their differences, and that was hardly anything to consider about. Looking back Willow kicks herself for not looking deeper and questioning the holes in his personality sooner but it was far too late for that. Though her marriage be nothing more than a successful con crafted by a heartless leech, Willow still had her garden. A precious gift from her father and she'd enjoy it for as long as she pleased.

As she frolics, Willow stumbles upon a familiar gazebo, one that held many memories. She’d sat there with each of her children as infants after walking them through the greenery to introduce them to the wonders of nature. This is where she taught them the basics of tea parties and being a proper host, less serious etiquette lessons more of relaxed pretend play to practice. And around Mother’s Day, so long ago, her lovely children would pick flowers to make her bouquets. Yes, there were many good memories both for her as someone’s child and as someone’s mother.

She sits down and as she continues letting her mind wander down memory lane the happy thoughts soon end as the most recent of them turn grim. That being the last time she’d seen her son in the garden, tears falling down his cheeks and eyes hollow. Willow clenches her glass, a shiver of sorrow and disappointment running down her back. She could hardly remember that moment, but the vision of her son face was still clear as day. That haunting emptiness in his gaze was too much to bear. Her baby boy, her little flower Whitley was rotting, dying in front of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. At the time she didn’t even know what or why he’d fallen apart that way but just seeing broke her heart in ways she didn’t know it could anymore. All she could do in moment was apologize, for everything and anything. She knew she was too weak to protect her children as she should have and her words were all she could offer, empty as they may be.

It was much later that she’d learned of their routine military visitor, the redhead girl she’d seen in the halls once some time ago, from Mary. She had given many details but from what she could gather the girl was pleasant and kind and her son had greatly enjoyed her company. But that had ended, no doubt Jaques had a hand in it, and that had shattered something in Whitley like nothing had before.

And why wouldn’t it?

Willow could tell from how he wept that being with the girl had made Whitley happy so much so much so that the absence of her stole all the light he had left. At least for a moment. And Willow knew that sorrow she felt creeping in from Jaques for so long until finally, the mask fell, and the love she knew was revealed as nothing but a farce. Yes, Willow knew that agony well, and seeing it in her son was like looking into a mirror. She couldn’t face that misery and broke down leaving Whitley to pick up the pieces even in his fragile state. That was the other edge of Willow's continued living for her children’s sake, her pain had become their burden.

Tears form on the edges of her eyes and not wanting to cry in her good dress, Willow downs her wine in one gulp and stands up.

Willow: I’m going to the ballroom; I want to dance under warm lights.

Mary: Yes, Mistress.

Mary agrees, filling Willow’s glass to the brim when she holds it out to her. After she takes a generous sipe they leave the garden and March towards the ballroom. The grand ballroom was always a gorgeous sight even when vacant of parties or revelry. Cleaned so often that the floors would always appear glimmering under light. Willow saunters around the room and onto the dance floor, finishing her 7th or maybe 8th glass of wine, she’d long since stopped keeping track, and hands the empty cup to Mary before issuing another decree.

Willow: I’d like some music, something cheerful and bouncy.

Mary: of course, ma’am.

Mary walks off to go explore the stereo system for appropriate music, but not before leaving a bottle of red wine and a glass behind to keep Willow busy. She gets a third of the way through the bottle when a soft orchestra melody comes pouring into the room. Willow sways to the beat, sipping away at her glass as the music plays. When her glass is once again empty Willow sets it down and begins to dance as Mary re-enters the room. The maid watches as her charge begins doing what she can only describe as a one-person waltz. Willow twirls and strides around the floor with grace and poise, the color of her gown making her movements appear whimsical. Like a butterfly fluttering against the wind, free of all humanity’s coils and unburdened by anything but its own machinations.

Ah, how glamorous. Once upon a time, Willow Schnee was always this brilliant. Basking in a seemingly endless dream.

Until she woke up.

The cackling came first, starting as soft as a whisper before getting louder and louder as Willow’s steps became erratic. Her elegant movements turn into a wobbly dance as she thrashes about, almost throwing her body around carelessly. Her mind is both muggy and racing as the alcohol and her resentment take effect.

Willow: What a waste of a life, I could have been working the happiest woman in the world. I had everything anyone could want or need and more. And yet…yet I’ve become this.

Her mind spirals as her self-deprecation bubbles up to the surface once more, this time in full bloom. She throws her head back as laughing becomes hysterical, mascara runs down her cheeks as the tears finally fall. Her becomes undone, hairpin clipping on for dear life as the mass around it unravels like its wearer’s mind.

Yet she continued to dance.

A meltdown in motion so caught up in herself that she doesn't see the passing staff members' looks of horror or notice when someone walks within her vicinity, keeping enough distance not to crash into her but close enough to be a flicker at the edge of her vision. That is until she trips over the glass she left on the floor, getting caught in the space between the shank and heel of her pumps. Crushing the glass as she stumbles, sending her towards the floor. The loss of balance and rush of air brings Willow back to reality and she braces herself for a hard fall, but she never hits the ground. Instead, she finds herself being held by thin but strong arms, face pressed against royal blue fabric. Looking up she sees Whitley, holding her tight in his arms and one leg kneeling directly on broken glass and the other keeping them steady.

Whitley: Are you alright, Mother?

He asks, voice soft and even as if he hadn’t just witnessed his mother drunkenly fall over. Willow nods yes.

Whitley: Good.

He chimes before pulling her back onto her feet, sweeping off any stray shards that might have hit her and checking to see if she’s cut. Luckily none had gotten on her and Willow was unharmed.

Whitley: Call someone to clean this up, we need to take her back to her room.

He orders Mary who stands directly behind him. She walks away to seek assistance with the mess and Whitley turns back to his mother.

Whitley: You should really be more careful. Leaving glass around like this is a recipe for disaster. Especially with how you dance.

He says with a chuckle, jokingly scolding Willow for her clumsy mistake. From there he guides her back to her room, Mary meeting them halfway. Mary cleans up her face while Whitley heads off to the kitchen to get her something to put on her stomach. He returns with a maid wheeling in a newly stocked food cart with a basket of bread, creamy soup, fried chicken coated in tomato sauce, and warm ginger ale.

Whitley: Make sure she eats as much as possible and gets some rest before she drinks again. Report back to me if her condition worsens.

The maids reply with a simple, “Yes, Young Master,” and Whitley leaves. They tend to a now calm Willow who doesn’t fight them on it.

If living for her child was a truly double-edged sword, this was the sharpest point. Her youngest, her only son Whitley had taken to caring for her in his father’s place so much so that he’d be the one train and warn much of the staff on her ailments and outbursts. Frankly, his continued care was the greatest factor in keeping Willow as well as she was.

But that only fueled her guilt.

Knowing her minor son had to cater to her needs and treat her with the patience and care his father refused to was and is profoundly demoralizing for her. Despite everything she was and could have been Willow has become a ward to the person she should have been able to protect. But she couldn’t…No, she didn’t. Willow had shut down in the wake of her life shattering and her children were left to pick up whatever pieces they could, even if they cut them deep.

And as she lay down for her daily nap, Willow couldn't help but crave another sip. To drown out her suffering and wash away the memories of what a pathetic excuse for a mother she’s been.