#my darling signed icons

[norrisainz33]

WAG Summer || LN4

☆ summary: in which lando takes summer break to be a full time wag to his olympic tennis player partner

☆ pairing: lando norris x olympic!reader

☆ f/c & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes! thank you for the request 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

landonorris has made a post

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landonorris: great first half of the season! looking forward to the break so i can assume my duties as a full time WAG while my darling girl represents Italy and goes for gold in Paris! follow me along my journey on lando.jpg

view all 546 comments

mclarenf1: great first half lando! we are so proud of you! p.s: let’s go y/n, we love you!!!

ynuser: i love you more admin

user1: AHHH LANDO IN HIS WAG ERA LFG

user2: lando heard brat summer and said nah wag summer

ynuser: can confirm

user2: omg hi y/n

ynuser: great first half of the season 💪🏻 now it’s my turn 😉

lando.jpg: yes ma’am 😍

user3: LANDOJPG IS BACK

user18: been praying for days like this fr

italiateam: forza y/n!

lando.jpg has made a post

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lando.jpg: we made it to paris! y/n’s first match is tomorrow! everyone say goooooo y/n!!!!

view all 409 comments

lnfour: LFG Y/N!! LN4 NATION IS ROOTING FOR YOU

user2: LFG HECK YES WE ARE!

ynuser: cutie patootie

landonorris: that’s you baby

maxverstappen1: i’ll be watching! rooting for you y/n!

ynuser: thanks maxie 🫶🏻

lilymhe: sorry lando i’m only looking at the beautiful girl in the third pic

lilyzneimer: same

francisca.cgomes: same

iamrebeccad: same

alexandrasaintmleux: same

carmenmundt: same

ynuser: 🤭 you make me blush

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lando.jpg: winner winner chicken dinner!! that’s my GIRL! god i’m so proud of you. on to the quarterfinals we go. ti amo mia ragazza 🤍

view all 342 comments

italiateam: 🇮🇹🤍

ynuser: your support means everything to me. ti amo lando

lando.jpg: you mean everything to me

user3: they’re so cute i’m ill

user5: i love that he brought back lando.jpg purely to support his girl

user7: icon behavior

user8: lover boy era

scuderiaferrari: our italian princess 💚🤍❤️

mclarenf1: she’s ours let’s be real here

lando.jpg has posted a story

view all story replies

user12: wow what a shot!

user22: great photo lando 😍

user33: finals bound for our girl 🤭

ynuser: it is not easy but i’m glad it looks like it

ynuser: also send me this photo amore mio

lando.jpg: sent it baby girl. can’t wait to watch you play for gold tomorrow

ynuser: i’m so glad you’re going to be there 🤍

oscarpiastri: working on rounding up the crew for her match tomorrow. she still doesn’t know we’re all here right?

lando.jpg: nope! she’s too busy to suspect a thing

oscarpiastri: good! lily says we should make signs

lando.jpg: y/n might die of embarrassment,, let’s do it

oscarpiastri: i’m not even sure it’s allowed

lando.jpg: we’ll never know if we don’t try!

lando.jpg has posted a story

view story replies

ynuser: omg don’t you dare lando

lando.jpg: but it’s true 🥹

lando.jpg: don’t worry they did not let me in with it

ynuser: well thank god 🫢

user22: LANDO STOP

user47: HAHAHA LANDO LET HER COOK IN PEACE DONT EMBARRASS HER

lilyzneimer: not the sort of sign of support i was suggesting lando!

F1Gossip has made a post

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user12: stopppp the way he looks so proud

user18: i’m crying

user22: he’s so proud of his girl

user43: wait i think i just saw george and carmen

user44: omg stop i just spotted oscar and lily on tv

user58: oh my god stop is everyone there to support her rn?

user18: this is so wholesome im gonna throw up

user89: green is landos color

lando.jpg has made a post

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lando.jpg: and look who decided to show up for y/n/n’s gold medal match 🥹 (p.s: dw guys they took away all my signs before i got in)

view all 1,435 comments

user87: that’s practically the whole grid

user99: y/n is so loved

user44: no fr the power she has to pull all of them away from vacation for this

carmenmundt: wouldn’t want to be anywhere else!

lilyzneimer: me neither 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: have to support our favorite girl

francisca.cgomes: no place i’d rather be

iamrebeccad: we love y/n!!

user87: oh to be friends with the all of the grid and the wags and max fewtrell and p

maxverstappen1: was that really the best photo of me you took?

lando.jpg: yes! hope this helps!

lnfour: got the match on and am ready. lfg

lando.jpg has made a post

liked by italiateam, mclarenf1, carlossainz55, ynuser, and 765,098 others

lando.jpg: SHES DONE IT!!!! YOU ARE AN OLYMPIC GOLD MEDAL WINNER Y/N/N!!! P1 LETS GO! i love you i love you i love you i love you!!! sono così orgoglioso di te amore mia [i am so proud of you my love]

view all 657 comments

user18: YAYY!!!

user23: CONGRATS Y/N (i’m sleeping in the road)

mclarenf1: gold secured! let’s go!

ynuser: grazie my lando! dreams really do come true 😭

ynuser: we’re putting this medal next to yours from miami 😉

lando.jpg: done and done

y/nuser: p.s, thank you for the sweetest surprise!! i didn’t expect everyone to turn up to watch!!! it meant so much to me

oscarpiastri: 🤍

georgerussell63: we wouldn’t have missed it for the world

charlesleclerc: leo wishes he could have been there too

carlossainz55: great win y/n! glad to have been there

maxfewtrell: always here to support you

scuderiaferrari: forza y/n sempre 🤍

lnfour: OUR GOAT

user44: all of landonation was rooting for her!

lando.jpg has made a post

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lando.jpg: celebrations in paris done right 🤍 now it’s time to rest and prepare for zandvoort. see you all there

view all 324 comments

user23: i’m going to miss lando’s wag era

user14: excited to see you back on track!!

ynuser: no rest! only croissant!

lando.jpg: whatever my girl wants

mclarenf1: yes rest! healthy meals!

ynuser: admin pls,, i’ll bring you some croissants and the chocolate muffins from the olympic village if you look the other way

mclarenf1: 👀

user16: they’re everything

user18: mama y papa

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: aaaannnd another olympic reader lets go! likes and reblogs appreciated!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[thetreefairy]

Can you do another platonic yandere gojo where the reader attempts to escape gojo and actually ends up escaping him succesfully meanwhile gojo is going feral to it find the reader ?

.... bro do you want the Reader to be locked up for the rest of their life?. I lost my banner files for gojo so here have Icons I use for notion

Warnings: unhinged Gojo, escaping, captivity, abuse, Megumi is like: you know what? I'm out, Reader runs away (+succeeds!) and author has no will to live :3. My English isn't the best here, I've been trying to speak Indonesian all day (spoiler I cannot)

1 - 2

Reader had escaped Gojo, much to Megumi's surprise. When Gojo had texted him, they expected to find them within seconds. But they didn't.

Reader was stronger then they realized, sure their own powers seemed to overstimulate them at times.

Gojo was honestly losing his shits, he called up his students and he called the police to report her as 'stolen' (no way in hell is he admitting he lost them) so they won't be able to stay hidden for long.

But the fact that she was even able to escape but him deep, not just in his pride but in his heart as well. "Wasn't I accomodating?!" Gojo couldn't help but shout as Megumi called about another dead end. "I even let their legs heal while they were being such a fucking brat!"

"gojo-sensei...." Megumi started, he had to stop his teacher from going into a rant. "You know how much Reader hates the purge and yanderes that take their darlings without even attempting to win them over in real life..."

"and that shows how fucking naive and childish she is!" Gojo interrupted Megumi, he was hysterical and he just couldn't believe that his weak baby was evading them so easily. Even sukuna couldn't help Yuji track them down. "God fucking damnit, they want me to be such a fucking villain?!"

Megumi was on the other line of the phone, and by the gods was he glad he didn't deliver this news in person. Gojo was nearing a rage that no one could stop and he prayed for Readers sanity and safety. "Gojo-sensei please calm down..."

"no! They want me to be the fucking bad guy," gojo hissed. "I'll fucking will Be, I'll lock them up in their room until I'm sure they are a good child. And no one, not even you and the others will be allowed to be with her until she sees at least some signs of improvement!" He rambled on. "And if that doesn't work, I'll starve them from social interactions and love to the point they'll beg for affection!"

Megumis blood ran cold. "I'm sorry, what?" While he was a yandere himself he could never do such cruel things to his own darling, hell if he did that to them he would rather be killed off by a minor curse then care for them ever again. "Gojo-sensei, I have to get ready for a mission now," he said in a cold tone. "The police will find them."

When Megumi ended the call, more texts of Yuji, other students and Nanami flooded Gojos phone. Reader hadn't been found.

Gojo was going to destroy the world if it meant finding his baby.

Also thank you guys so much for 1102 followers, I know I haven't been writing much lately but I appreciate all of you and I'll try to be more active whenever I can write<3333

[pucksandpower]

IN MY BLOOD

Y/N SENNA x CHARLES LECLERC

Series Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

PART I: Level Up

y/nsenna

Liked by bugattiracing, f1, and 1,372,865 others

y/nsenna Today my heart soars with overwhelming joy and gratitude. It is with immeasurable excitement that I announce signing my first Formula 1 contract with Bugatti Racing.

This moment is not just about me, it is a tribute to the trailblazing women who shattered barriers in motorsport and paved the way for this incredible opportunity. To those fearless heroes who dared to challenge conventions and fought against all odds, I am forever indebted. Your courage has lit a fire within me that will burn fiercely on every lap.

As I enter this next adventure, I carry with me the spirit and legacy of my father. His passion for racing, unwavering determination, and undying love for the sport continue to guide my every move. Today, I make a solemn promise to him: I will give my all, every single race, and honor the Senna name with everything I have.

Papai, I wish you were here to witness this exciting chapter in my life. Your footsteps echo in my heart, and I know you are watching over me, pushing me forward, and whispering words of encouragement in the wind. I hear your voice guiding me every time I get in the cockpit. I hope to make you proud, to show the world the legacy we carry, and to inspire others to chase their dreams relentlessly.

I am immensely honored and filled with gratitude as I express my heartfelt thanks to Bugatti Racing, my incredible team, and the Bugatti Driver Academy, which has been instrumental in shaping my development until this remarkable moment. It is through their unfaltering belief in my potential and their tireless support that I stand here today, ready to embark on this incredible journey in Formula 1. Bugatti Racing, with its rich history and unwavering commitment to excellence, has provided me with an opportunity of a lifetime, and I am determined to seize it with both hands. With Bugatti Racing and the Bugatti Driver Academy behind me, I am ready to push boundaries, defy expectations, and make an impact on and off the track. Thank you for believing in me. Together, we will write an extraordinary chapter in motorsport history.

To my incredible fans, friends, and family, thank you for standing by me throughout this incredible journey. Your unwavering support has been my driving force. This is just the beginning of a thrilling ride, and I am beyond grateful for every moment, every challenge, and every victory that lies ahead. The road may be long, but together, we will conquer it.

View all 3,948 comments

lewishamilton Congratulations on your incredible achievement! It is a pleasure to welcome you to the F1 family. Your father was a true legend and my idol, and I have no doubt that you will make him proud. Looking forward to competing with you on the track!

hamilfan Lewis’ acknowledgement means a lot! We should be in for some epic battles 👀

gisele Parabéns, querida! Your journey is just beginning, and I can't wait to see you conquer the F1 tracks. Your father's spirit lives on and I'm sure he's beaming with pride from above ❤️

speedchaser She's carrying on the Senna legacy with so much passion! Can't wait to see what she can do in F1

massafelipe Bem-vinda à família da Fórmula 1! It's an honor to have you on the grid, carrying on your father's legacy. Wish you the best of luck and many podium finishes ahead! Go out there and make Brazil proud 🇧🇷

brazilianrocket Massa knows what it takes to make Brazil proud and his support speaks volumes. Brazil is with Y/N all the way!

neymarjr Parabéns, garota! A new star is born in the world of racing. Keep pushing limits, breaking barriers, and chasing greatness. Wishing you a successful and thrilling journey ahead 🏆

sportingbrazil This is huge! Two young Brazilian icons in their respective fields lifting each other up. They’re both going to be something special 👏

adrianalima Congratulations, darling! You are an inspiration to so many women around the world. May you continue to shine bright ☀️ Keep chasing dreams and breaking barriers!

girlypower Adriana is an inspiration to so many and now we have another role model to look up to! What an amazing milestone

bsennaofficial I couldn't be prouder! Your talent and dedication are unmatched. Keep pushing and make our family name even brighter! Love you ❤️

racetrackhero Incredible to see the Senna name continue to shine on the F1 stage 🙌

2012 Monaco Grand Prix — Wednesday Press Conference

Comments

⤷ What a phenomenal achievement! So proud to see a talented young woman like her breaking barriers in the world of F1. Wishing her all the success!

⤷ This is just a publicity stunt. She's only getting this opportunity because of her famous last name, not her talent.

⤷ This is a fantastic step forward for diversity and equality in motorsport. It's inspiring to see her following in her father's footsteps.

⤷ I highly doubt she has what it takes to compete at the highest level. F1 requires exceptional skill and experience.

⤷ Such a talented and determined driver! Can't wait to witness her skills on the track and watch history being made. The future of F1 is bright!

⤷ Women don't belong in F1. It's a male-dominated sport for a reason. This is just political correctness gone too far.

⤷ Congratulations to her on this amazing opportunity! A new generation of talent is emerging and she's leading the way. Rooting for her every step of the way!

⤷ She's going to be a liability on the track. F1 is a dangerous sport and I just don't think she can handle the pressure.

⤷ I'm not impressed. There are more deserving drivers out there who have worked hard and earned their way into F1. This feels like a token gesture.

⤷ It's so exciting to see the Senna legacy continue. She's going to bring a fresh perspective and a new wave of enthusiasm to the sport. I followed her closely in Formula Renault and I’m looking forward to her F1 debut!

Taglist: @xeliaaaa @cl16version @aileeincomplexity @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @ninifee1802 @oprantodomar @vanishingcherry @ferraribabe @magicalcowboyarbiter @materialgirl01 @miureiz @kavyaas-world @noodle81937 @cl16gf @laura-naruto-fan1998 @stillbreathin @alexisquinnlee-bc @chiliwhore @itachissneakylink @lxverboy-333 @nim360 @celestialams @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @sharllec @sticksdoesart @ivegotparticulartaste @kruellaaa @multifandomfanfic @love4lando @lunehlana @judeswifey22 @gentlemonsterjennie1 @spencerrxids @eugene-emt-roe @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @g4ns3y @notleclerc @magical-imagination-kgp @ru-kru @christianpulisic10 @paigem00 @paletragedydreamer @fluffyspaceprincess @ironmaiden1313 @dr3lover @deviltsunoda @belennasif

[luvneymar]

(1) LOVE TO HATE ME — NEYMAR JR

— SUMMARY: You & Neymar both were booked for a suggestive underwear photoshoot, the only problem? You both hate each others guts.

PARINGS: young!neymar x female!reader & young!lucas paqueta x female!reader

NOTE: any examples doesn’t not represent the race, body type or skin-tone of the female lead.

— “Yes! Just like that! A bit more slutty and you’ll be perfect!” The casting director yelled at you from the background of your Calvin Klein campaign, You laughed hearing the last part as you posed on the set strutting your body in different ways.

In the recent years of you becoming a rising star in both the athletic world & the modelling world you’ve been booked & busy with these kinds of activities & activities. The one thing that sold the most was your partner shoots with another male athletes or actors.

The first time it happens it was by total accident when the director doubled booked 2 models at the same time but seeing how much money it brought in for you & the companies, you had to basically expect for some handsome famous guy to come & sweep you off your feet.

As you were posing the casting director stopped the photographer as he walked onto the set to whisper something into your ear,“Darling you know how much I love your smile but, we don’t need it here. Look fierce! Look alive! Look sexy!”

He begun to adjust your facial expression by pulling your bottom lip out just a bit to create a naughty but nice type of pout along with curling your eyelashes a bit more to make them look “doe-y” at one angle then “siren-y” the next.

Once he backed away and resumed the shoot you took his advice & begun to pose is much more suggestive ways; ways that your mother would’ve smacked you for if she saw the magazine you’d be front & center in.

“Lovely! That’s what I’m looking for!” He yelled out waving his hands around in an attempt to hype you up.

Soon the flashes stopped as he turned to the photographer looking at the photos he took to approve them, he sent an approval nod his way signalling the standby staff to clear the set & hand you a robe.

As you walked off the casting director engulfed you into a hug patting the back of your head, “You did great today, your next set is in your change-room. As you know that’ll be your collaborative project. Get excited”

You both exchanged cheek kisses before your waddled to change-room feeling exposed & quite cold actually. As you opened the door you immediately searched for the clothes you were going to wear.

Except you only found a pair of pants & the iconic Calvin Klein underwear, not a shirt in sight. You begun to look around trying to see if your shirt was misplaced. Or at-least a bra; you never signed up for a topless shoot.

“My set missing a—!” As you walked out of the change-room holding the “outfit” you were supposed to wear you locked eyes with non other than— Neymar Junior. Neymar fucking Junior.

The Neymar Junior who broke your nose in Secondary School, The Neymar who cut your hair in middle school, The Neymar Junior Santos who tripped you in the halls. That Neymar Junior.

“He’s the super hot athlete? Oh, just kill me now.” You yelled out throwing your arms in the air as you spun your heels speed walking towards your change room grabbing your manager by the arm digging your nails into his arm.

As you slammed the door you shoved him into the couch throwing the clothes on the table as you flopped down beside him, “Seriously? Seriously! You hyped this up so much I thought I was gonna do a shoot with the Stephen Curry.”

“Just listen—” He tried to explain, you slammed your finger onto his mouth signalling him not talk as you shook your head side to side very slowly with an evil scowl on your face.

“I’m having a moment here! I specially said anyone but him! Did you know he broke my—!” You explained flailing your arms in the air as you fell over on the couch resting your head on the armrest.

“Yes I know you’ve told the story a million times and more, to be fair you weren’t all the kind to him either.” He cut you off as he stood up from the couch, “I tried to reason with them but you both are very popular on the internet. You even have fanclub—”

“Ew! Don’t even mention that to me. I’ll just suck it up & hold my breath till I die on set & blame him for 1st degree murder.” You grumbled swinging your legs off the couch as you sat back up staring right at the wall blankly.

“Your loss. I personally think he’s kinda cute—!”

“Get out!” You shrieked throwing your pillow at him as he rushed out of the room laughing at your reaction. You got up & begun pacing around the room chewing on your thumb nail as you pondered about how you could even do this.

You weren’t even worried about Neymar as much as you were worried about your long-term boyfriend Lucas Paqueta seeing this. You half naked pressed against another man; his best friend according to the concept photos you were given.

“I’ll just explain it to him later. He knows how much I hate him anyways!” You took a deep breath shaking off any negative thoughts you had lingering in your mind as you begun to get dressed.

It didn’t take long since all you had to put on was a pair of underwear, jeans, & a pair of nipple covers. Thankfully they ate last provided you with that seeing as how you felt as if you were about to film a porno.

You walked towards the mirror hands held on your breasts as you looked up and down at your attire embarrassed look melted onto your face. “Neymar Junior is going to see my boobs.” You muttered out, in disbelief.

“Neymar Junior is going to see, my boobs! As you took in the fact you begun to laugh uncontrollably at the irony of the situation, your arch enemy since your birth is going to be touching your boobs; a place only a select few were even allowed to see.

You wiped the small tears forming at the corner of your eyes due to excess laughter as you pulled out of your phone from your pocket feeling it vibrate from a text that read.“We’re ready for you.”

You sighed saying a small prayer before walking out of the change-room hands covering your chest, as the shoes you were wearing made noise the casting director along with Neymar turned their heads to look at you. “Woman of the hour!”

“Yeah.” You nervously chuckled as you slowly made your way to the edge of the set, despite taking literal baby steps you made it there in a shorter time than you’d like, as you stood there staring straight ahead right past Neymar’s eyes that didn’t leave your body.

“Did you look at the concept photos?” The casting director asked you as you completely zoned out all the background noises, your heart begun to pound as you took in that this was really happening.

“Yeah I did.” You muttered out as you turned your head slowly towards the director awkward smile on your face as you felt Neymar’s gaze being branded onto your skin.

“Well we’re scrapping that one, this is what the first pose will be.” The casting director handed you a photo face down already making you suspicious, when you flipped the photo your eyes nearly flew out of your sockets.

“What the fuck is this!” You whispered shouted in disbelief as to what you were seeing, not only were you going to be literally topless, Neymar’s head was going to be resting: on your breasts.

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands were going to be resting on your ass. “We are not filming a porno! You’ve gotta change this now.”

“This is what is going to sell. It sold back then it’ll sell now. Come one darling, just this once. For me.” He pleaded with you grabbing you by your shoulders.

“No! Not unless you pay me millions! Even if you can You’re gonna owe me. Big time. largely.” Hearing that the director smiled at you before ushering you onto the set where you stood awkwardly beside Neymar who had a stupid smirk on his face. “Alright places everyone.”

Once you heard that you grit your teeth and furrowed your eyebrows as you eased onto the floor of the set, you hesitated before crawling into Neymar’s lap hands hovering just centimetres away from his waist with him doing the same cringing away from your body.

Just before the photographer begun to take photos the director begun to yell once again,“Ugh no no no! Hands on her waist, hands on his waist, look seductive, look like you want to fuck each other!”

You grew goosebumps just hearing that as you muttered under your breath “ew”, you rolled yo ur eyes looking away from Neymar’s annoyed gaze, “This is an underwear company! you’re advertising underwear! hands off your sides and pose!”

“Don’t think I’m enjoying touching your repulsive body, I’m doing this because I have too.” He muttered under his breath emphasizing the “repulsive” making your skin crawl.

“Your breath stinks.” You replied pinching him in his side as hard as you could, seeing him wince in pain gave you a weird boost of satisfaction, as you both bickered with the occasional pinch coming his way you both tuned our the director till he yelled.

“I’m not paying you both millions to look like constipated scorpions! Positions! Now!” He yelled out using the paper in his hand to fan his forehead which was sweating quite heavily, hearing him be so angry out of nowhere frightened you enough to relax just enough to look natural.

Once you both had relaxed easing into each other the rest of the set had gone smoothly with minimal arguing from both of your sides; especially your side since you were quite literally topless. “Wonderful Job guys! Your cheque’s will be emailed to you shortly.”

Once the set was clearing out you stood there waiting for your robe to be handed to you as you shivered, the studio was a lot colder than you had realized. As you were standing around you noticed Neymar hadn’t left quite yet & he was looking a bit red.

“Ew, Are you blushing? I know I have great boobs, but no need to get embarrassed y’know? I’m sure your girlfriend—”

“My God, Will you just shut up?” Neymar shouted at you as he begun to scratch his skin, little blotches of red begun to show on his skin— not that you’d notice them of course.

“Shut up? Did you just tell me to shut up? Do you want me to rip your jaw off? Or did you forget who you were talking too? You turned your body to face him as you looked him up & down with disgust & annoyance in your eyes.

As you were cussing him out you didn’t even notice he hadn’t given you a snarky response back or just pushed pasted you like he always did confusing you, as you took a closer look at him you noticed he was developing a skin rash; hives.

“What the fuck? What type of rash are you developing?” You asked as you backed away wrapping your robe around your body tightly, watching him scratch his body frantically grossed you out enough to just leave the set & go back to your change-room.

Just before you were able to set foot into your room you heard a loud boom, along with a shriek alarming you greatly. As you rushed towards the noise you were met with Neymar breathing heavily on the floor with his assistant all over him trying to find out what was wrong.

A crowd gathered around him as some people were calling the ambulance while others were helping in anyway they could, as you stood there looking at him try to take in a breath you spun your heels turning back to your room.

“What the absolute fuck is going on?” You muttered out backing away from the crowd as you slipped back into your change-room slamming the door before locking it, you slid down the door trying to figure out why that was happening.

As you wondered it had finally hit you, recently you were gifted a body-care set that was based upon real strawberries giving you a long lasting strawberry scent all day— the only problem? Neymar was severely allergic to them.

TAGLIST: @watersquirtpewpewboomm @neymaruposts @aniya7 @foolsarehome @abluvions 💕 (send a reply to be added to the taglist!)

ON HOLD

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[reeniecon]

When MC get turned into a GOOSE? #? #?

With : Azul ashengrotto, Floyd leech and jade leech

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

Pt.1 (idia, malleus, rook)

⚠️‼️: gender neutral MC/reader,

A/n: I'm really sorry for the lateness the exam week and the Eid prep are more hectic than I was expecting twt

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

AZUL ASHENGROTTO !!

Azul Ashengrotto, the charismatic leader of the Octavinelle Dormitory, found himself facing an unexpected twist of fate.

It was a typical day in the prestigious academy until a mischievous spell gone awry transformed Azul's beloved into a goose. The culprit? None other than one of his own dorm students, a clumsy yet well-intentioned apprentice magician.

" How could they! "

" Oh, darling they're so mean to you!! "Azul angrily shouts and whimpers, all you can do is express your sadness with your body language since Azul and the twins cannot comprehend a single word u utter....

" Jade, floyd! Search the student that make my beloved turn into a goose! " He commands the twins but replied with Floyd Unexcitement

" Eehhh why noow!! I want to play with (reader) for a bit!! Let me hold them pleaseee~"

" Yeah, is a waste if we turn back (reader) immediately Azul... We can make a lot of money if we have (reader) goose as our mascot don't you think? " He says calmly yet so excitedly, ah... You're really fucked you think to yourself and quickly expressing disapproval of the twin's ideas Azul sighed " Yeah you're right, but I don't want to exploit them now, with this fragile body I'm afraid it will only hurt them" He says with a concerned and sad tone.

HUH? #? #? 2 What did he mean by 'didn't want to exploit them NOW #?! #? 2

" Anyway, you two please search for these two unresponsible student, and (reader) will go to Professor Crewel to somehow reverse the speel that they used "

" Tch, okayy okayy" Floyd replies with an annoyed voice towards azul

" That would do" Jade compactly replied

FLOYD LEECH !!

The usually uneventful campus was buzzing with whispers and curiosity as rumors spread like wildfire. Floyd Leech found himself at the center of attention. He couldn't quite believe the news himself. You, a regular student who had recently caught Floyd's eye, had mysteriously transformed into a goose overnight by the unresponsible octavinelle student !!

At first, Floyd couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. But as he watched the bewildered goose waddle around the campus, he felt a pang of concern. The reader had always been kind to him, and now they were in such a bizarre and stressful situation as the good person he was and the curiosity that he has for you, Floyd took it upon himself to look after you. He brought them treats from the cafeteria, made sure they had a warm place to rest, and even tried to engage them in conversation, despite the obvious language barrier( he would find a way eventually lol) minutes turned into hours, and Floyd's initial amusement turned into genuine affection. He found himself spending more and more time with you, enjoying your silent company and finding solace in your presence.

As the hours passed, you on the other hand began to exhibit signs of distress. It was clear that you were struggling to adapt to your new form, and Floyd couldn't bear to see you suffer. With determination in his heart, Floyd sought out the most knowledgeable magicians in Night Raven College (crewel), desperate for a solution.

After countless hours of research and experimentation ( he got lectured for notRelief washed over Floyd as he watched the reader blink in confusion, taking in their surroundings. But what truly warmed his heart was the grateful smile that graced the reader's lips as they looked up at him.

"Little shrimpy, make more mess okay~ I enjoy it~ hehe" He says with his iconic smirk plastered on his face

" Did you know that you're so interesting~ I love you so much little shrimpy~"

after dropping you at the ramshackle dorm, he begins his search for the unresponsible octavinelle student and gives them a little squeezing and hugging <3~ (if u know what I mean)

JADE LEECH !!

In the bustling corridors of Night Raven College, chaos was not always an uncommon sight, especially within the mischievous confines of octavinelle dorm. On this particular day, however, chaos took a rather fowl turn.

You found yourself in a feathery predicament after an unfortunate encounter with Jade Leech's experimental magic. Transformed into a goose, (reader) waddles around the dormitory lobby, honking on everyone that they encounter with dismay and protests about jade leech experimental magic!!

Jade, the heterochromia witch of Octavinelle, couldn't suppress a mischievous chuckle as he watched [Reader] flapping their wings in frustration. "Well, well, well, look what we have here. Seems like someone's taken a liking to their new feathery form." He says with his iconic smirk

[Reader] shot Jade a glare, or at least attempted to with their beady goose eyes. Honking indignantly, they tried to convey their distress.

"Ah, don't be so mean to me, [Reader]," Jade teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "You make quite the adorable goose, if I do say so myself."

But behind his playful facade, Jade knew he had to find a solution to undo his unintended magic. With a reluctant sigh,

"Come here, darling I'm sorry, I'll turn you back to normal okay? Stay still okay" He uttered the word softly accompanied by his iconic chuckle and smirk displayed on his face

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

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

epilogue: our love is going gold

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)

warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!

also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari

a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!

as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr

i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!

** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **

first of many

After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.

The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar. 

Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.

“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”

“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”

You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”

“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch. 

He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.

Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”

Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.

“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”

Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.

Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.

Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”

Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.

“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.

Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.

“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.

“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.

“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.

“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.

“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”

“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”

And the two of you really couldn’t wait.

Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.

“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”

To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.

Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.

“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.

“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”

Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”

“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”

Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.

On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family. 

Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.

Mi amor,

Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.

You make me a better man.

Te amo, mi media naranja.

J

You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.

Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.

Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs. 

Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.

Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.

His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.

“Hey, Mari.”

“Hi, J.”

Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.

“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.

“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.

Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.

The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.

“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”

Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”

Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.

“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.

“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run.  Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”

Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.

“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.

Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”

Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself. 

“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”

The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”

“Absolutely I do. No question.”

Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”

“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.” 

Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”

Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”

A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”

“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.

“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening. 

The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.

Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”

“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.” 

You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.

Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.

The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.

“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”

Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.

Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.

In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”

At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.

Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.

More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.

You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.

At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces. 

Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.

The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”

Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.

After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”

“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”

“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”

“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.

“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”

He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”

second nature

“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”

A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.

Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”

“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.

“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.” 

A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.

“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?” 

An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.

“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”

Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”

“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.

“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”

The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”

“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”

“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.

“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”

“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.

“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”

“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.

“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”

He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.

Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.

A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.

Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.

When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”

And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.

What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away. 

He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads. 

Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”

It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”

“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.

The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.

Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”

Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.

“Hi, Posey!”

She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”

After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.

Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.

“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”

“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”

Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.

“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.

“Dad, you literally always ask ‘What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.

“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”

Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.

“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.

“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”

That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.

“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.

“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.

“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.

“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”

“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.

Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”

“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.

“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.

She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”

“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”

Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”

Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”

“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”

“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.

“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”

third time lucky

Negative.

A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.

To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.

Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.

“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.

A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.

Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?

Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.

Negative.

His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?

Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.

Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.

You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.

It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.

Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?

Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.

Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.

“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”

He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.

Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.

Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?

“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.

Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.

“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.

Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”

His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.” 

Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.

Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”

Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”

“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”

“Okay, yeah. One more go.”

Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.

You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.

Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.

 “Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.

“In the bedroom, J!”

Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”

A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.

“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.

“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.

“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.

“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.

“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.

He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.” 

He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.

“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most. 

Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.

“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”

Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.

Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.

“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”

His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.

“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat. 

Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.

“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”

A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.

“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”

Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”

“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.

Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”

Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.

“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”

“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.

Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”

“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both. 

Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.

The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.

“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”

His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.

Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.

“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”

“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.

“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.

“A daddy!”

“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.

“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon. 

A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.

“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.” 

The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.

Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.

“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.

“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.

“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”

“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”

He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”

Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.

The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.

Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.

“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.

A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”

His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.

“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.

The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”

His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.

“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.

Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.

Positive.

Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.

“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”

Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.

“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”

“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”

Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”

“I love you too, J.”

“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.

“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.

“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”

“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.

“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.

“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.

“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.

“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”

“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.

The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.

Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.

And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.

So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.

The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.

In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”

You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.

“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.

“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.

You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.

“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.

Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”

“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”

“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”

June 21st, 2009.

The first day of summer.

It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.

“You got this, Mari.”

“So strong, baby. You can do it.”

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”

The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.

Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.

“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord. 

She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.

The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.

A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”

You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”

Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”

“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”

A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.

Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”

Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.

“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”

You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better. 

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #37] Faking It

warnings: pleased be seated for THE JANITORS CLOSET hehe, and iconic chapter in the bd universe. seokjin! pregnancy scares! tittie worship, thigh riding, semi-public, a lil self-pleasure, multiple orgasms, kissing <33, cum in panties??, idk, one of my fave bd smut scenes and they don't even shag! there's a lot of plot in there. all the fave characters!! and the biggest villains!!

a/n: i figured out the wrong headers!! this header was actually the og 36 header and the og 37 header is what I used for 36 lol

also also also i knew i said there would be more updates tonight buuuut I finished write #60 today so I'm editing that instead hehe. there's a direct reference to something said in this chapter in #60!

wc: 18k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

In the quiet bustle of Jeongguk's favourite downtown cafe, Yoongi frowns.

"Are you even listening to me, Gguk?"

On the table sits a half-drunk coffee, the bitter taste a little too much for Jeongguk at this time in the morning. Notebooks open, pens scattered on the driftwood table, Jeongguk has spent the morning earnestly scrawling down revisions to his business plan.

The centrepiece of the table - a single white rose in a thin vase has been put on an empty seat. Just would have been in the way.

Also kind of made Jeongguk's blood boil, but he knows he shouldn't be irrationally angry at a fucking flower. A nice one at that. An expensive one.

Just like Seokjin had made sure to remind you on his calling card.

Happy Birthday, Darling. Exquisite roses for an exquisite girl. You can pretend they're from your new guy if you like - I'm sure he agrees you deserve the best that money can buy. All my love x

Stupid prick hadn't signed his name, but he has set a precedent. There's only one person who'd send you white roses. Not just a dozen. Not two dozen. Three fucking dozen. Thirty-six.

36 identical, soulless roses destined to die within a week or so, already embarking on their demise.

Danbi had snorted. "What's that? A rose for each time he cheated?"

You had smiled. Shook your head. "Think four dozen would be needed for that."

Jeongguk had been with you when you'd redistributed the roses to your CU ajumma aunties, and had to deal with their scrutinising eyes. Had smiled, and played nicely, even when they called Seokjin the 'handsome one'. As much as he might hate that tall mother fucker, he's got a pair of eyes. Knows he's a bloody god.

And so Jeongguk had moved the rose on his table out of sight before he even realised that he would need to.

The display of his iPad, which is still covered in your small fingerprints from lazy days wasted in his bedroom, has dimmed. It obscures the last revision of the plan. Hides it away from prying eyes.

A work in progress for years, now, he started planning for the samgyeopsal restaurant during his first semester of university. Had been a hypothetical project that he just hasn't been able to let go of. Like a first love, it kept coming back to the forefront of his mind.

For a little while - he's not sure how long; three, maybe four minutes - Jeongguk has been watching the beads of condensation sweat down the side of his glass. The straw, given to him by a barista with a warm smile and nothing else remotely interesting about her, lays beside the glass, still encased in its plastic wrapper.

He hears your voice and its tone of concern each and every time he raises the now-wet glass to his lips.

Careful, Koo. It'll hurt your teeth.

With every fabricated iteration of your concern, his mile-a-minute heart temporarily eases. For those scarce moments, it doesn't feel as if it'll burst straight out of his chest from the sheer exhausting stress of the unknown; His future. Yours. The one that you may or may not have together.

Funny how you're the main source of his stresses right now, and yet are the only thing able to ease them.

And so the straw remains as it is - still, untouched - just so he can pretend you care.

Dazed and most definitely confused when he looks up, Jeongguk's vacant eyes land on Yoongi. There's a frown on the older mans face, but a softness to his eyes.

"Hm?" Jeongguk hums. "Sorry?"

Sighing, Yoongi reaches for the straw that Jeongguk has so purposefully left discarded. Snaps the thin plastic wrapper apart. Reaches over and pushes the straw through a cluster of stubborn ice that just refuses to melt. Helps his friend in a way that makes total sense, and yet Jeongguk's mind is so jumbled up that it almost feels an attack.

It's him who frowns, now. Dimples form in the creases between his lips and cheeks, a thick line making itself known in the ridge between his eyes. Yoongi pays it no notice. Simply says, "Coffee'll stain your teeth. You'll thank me when you're older."

Perhaps he will. For now, Jeongguk's teeth are still pearly white. He's no need to worry about them.

"What wrong with you, huh?" Yoongi presses. "Spent all of last week badgering me to help you out, and now that I am, you've been a world away all morning. What gives?"

For all of the words that he could use to rabbit on about you for hours upon hours, they all seem to be stuck in his throat, dryly swallowed down like bitter pills sticking against his oesophagus.

To mention you now would be to admit that you occupy all vacancies inside his brain, in each and every waking moment. You're there in the moments he doesn't spend awake, too. A constant. Just as permanent as the glitter that's trapped between the woven threads of his cotton comforter, and as deeply embedded into him as the tattoos on his skin.

Pressing his lips together, piercing flipping in the corner of his mouth like it so often does, Jeongguk shrugs. "Sorry. Think my brain is shutting down."

If Yoongi suspects anything other than this as a viable excuse, he doesn't mention it. Just nods. Accept the white lie, and Jeongguk hopes he knows there's a white flag tied around it, too.

It's not that he wants to lie to Yoongi. He just doesn't want to be honest with himself.

Phone face down on the table, Jeongguk's device holds a whole host of contradictory search terms in his browser history. Questions he could probably ask Yoongi, but won't. Questions he should ask you, but most definitely won't.

Girlfriend - cause he figures it will bring back more results than fwb, or whatever else he could equate you to - missed her period, what should I do? Do girls miss periods often? Missed period, meaning, what? Having a baby with fwb, what now? Abortions? What if an abortion doesn't work? Is adoption good for the baby? How to be a single dad? What if only one person wants to keep it? What the fuck oenejoiegohhfo e.

The final result is still open in his browser. Was about three in the morning. Jeongguk had been sweating beneath his duvet, skin just as clammy as the condensation rings that have soaked into the wooden table from his iced coffee glass.

Nothing is confirmed. No test has been done - and yet he's thinking about where a playmat would fit in the living room, but also knows the name of the clinic downtown that would quickly and effectively prevent that from ever being his reality.

"We've made good progress," Yoongi tells Jeongguk. "Can take a break, if you like? Got a couple weeks till your meeting with the bank. Still got time."

There's no place in Jeongguk's business plan for a baby. He half wonders if maybe he should ask Yoongi where to factor it in. Knows better.

So instead, Jeongguk nods. "Yeah. Think that might be good. Sorry."

Yoongi just dismisses it. Tells Jeongguk it's fine, and really means it. Knows that trying to straighten out the fine details of a hypothetical business is harder than it would first appear. They've been troubleshooting; thinking of problems just for the sake of it. Making sure that Jeongguk's application for a business loan is airtight.

Of all of his friends, Yoongi is the only one who's ever been through anything similar. Is a fountain of knowledge with a wealth of experience that he's lucky enough to have access to.

Jeongguk half-thinks he must be mad for jumping in head first with this restaurant idea of his. Isn't sure he's got what it takes. Just knows he has to at least try, so he can say he can. So that even if he suffers the lows of failure, he will have experienced the highs of hope. Maybe even the uncharted territory of success.

"Could be a good idea to talk some things through with other people," Yoongi offers. "Someone in hospitality. Maybe DB. Get different scenarios neither of us have thought of yet."

Jeongguk doesn't need any more make-believe scenarios where you're involved. Has already thought of far too many all by himself.

But Yoongi doesn't know that, and Jeongguk would like to keep it that way. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

It's this encouragement from Yoongi that has a text from Jeongguk pinging through to your phone a quarter of an hour later. Phone in your back pocket, you'll check the notification that buzzed quietly in a moment or so.

For now, you're locked in conversation with a woman who is both everything you fear and everything you want to be. Peachy-cheeked, with a crystal white smile and lips that are somehow perpetually glossed, Jina has been talking you through the upcoming event that Taehyung is showcasing for at the Ryu.

"I was really impressed - hold on," she huff a little through the strain of reaching across the desk for her file. You immediately get to your feet to help her out. Her peach cheeks are now pretty pink apples. She exhales a deep-rooted breath and plonks back into her own chair. Laughs at herself, and her inability to do even the simplest of tasks, then rests her hand adoringly over the incredibly large bump that protrudes from her stomach. Is appreciative as she says, "Thank you." Looks down to her bump, and laughs again. "Hurry up, now. Mummy has jobs to do."

The way Jina speaks to the little life that's growing inside of her makes you want to violently vomit. Not for disgust, or anything negative, but for the fact that you're terrified of a similar fate.

Well-put together, still in designer garments, Jina has her life together. Is the Lead Gallery Coordinator at the Ryu. Spent her twenties working her way up, only to land her spot at the top two weeks before she welcomed in her thirties. She's distinguished. Had worked damn hard to stay at the top, even when her assistant is consistently trying to fill the shoes she hasn't even taken off yet.

It's why she's still working, even when her due date is within touching distance. Will be damned if some jumped up twat that studied illustration at the expense of his wealthy parents, and has never actually produced an illustration worthy of any praise, ends up behind her desk. Perhaps she's jaded, and perhaps she's bitter that she never got an easy ride, but she did at least have passion - which is more than can be said for her assistant. The only reason she keeps him on is because his parents are benefactors of the gallery. Can't fire him, even if she wants to.

"Sorry," she smiles back up at you, then hums. Ponders. Pregnancy brain is not being kind to her these days. "Where was I?"

With a kind smile, you happily remind her. "You were saying you were impressed?"

"Ah, yes! I was. I am. With the both of you, actually. Kim Taehyung is producing art that actually entices people, which is a rarity these days. I'm surprised his portfolio wasn't passed onto me sooner."

Although when she considers her assistant, the surprise wanes.

"And you," she continues, then looks down to flick through the proposed show in the file you put together earlier that day. "You say you're just doing this part-time? As a favour?"

Nodding, you explain, "Taehyung's a friend, and this is my area of interest. Should have gone down this route straight after university, but you know what the industry is like."

With a pitiful smile, Jina nods. "No money in it unless you already have money."

It's no secret that the arts are a luxury for those who can afford them - not just the masterpieces themselves, but the time to indulge in them. Apprenticeships and internships pay poorly, so in order to get your foot on the ladder, you have to come from money. Have to be able to rely on parents, or aunts, or uncles to fund your living expenses while you live out your dreams.

Wasn't an option you'd had, so a compromise had been made in the form of the art cafe. It's minimum wage, but you do at least enjoy it and can pay the bills.

At such a point in her career where the money is good enough for her to never worry about finances, Jina's heart bleeds for you. From one creative to another, she wishes there was a way she could help.

"You've got everything I'd look for in an assistant," she tells you, and the compliment just serves to make you feel disappointed. Success has always been a goal of yours, and you regret not working harder towards it. The past year has taught you many things, but mainly it's reinforced the idea that you shouldn't spend time on things or people who don't enrich your heart.

And so you throw caution to the wind; chance a suggestion that you know is beyond your capabilities.

"Well, perhaps I could help out when you're on maternity leave?" You chance. Know that you don't have enough experience nor credentials to take on her role, but fuck it. What's the worst she could do? Say no? "Help keep things running smoothly?"

When Jina smiles, you know that rejection is coming your way - but at least you tried.

"No money in the job," she sighs. "The gallery director hasn't opened up a vacancy. My assistant is stepping up."

Even saying it out loud makes her blood boil - but she knows it's bad for the baby, so tries to cool it.

"I have a sneaky suspicion that they'll open up a vacancy in April. Maybe May. When it does, you'd be top of my list for recommendations," she offers. Knows that things are gonna fall apart without her there. The higher-ups won't realise what a fundamental error of judgement they've made until it's too late. "That if you'd be interested?"

You don't think you've ever been asked such a stupid question.

This is a lie.

You've spent time with the Dionysus boys. Have been asked a million questions than this one.

"Of course!" You enthuse. "I mean, I don't get me wrong, I love my job - but an opportunity like this would be... I don't even know," you laugh, unable to articulate yourself properly, so try simplicity. "Yes. Please. If that happens, please pass along my details."

She nods. Understands your excitement. Was in a very similar position, once upon a time. All it took was someone taking a chance on her. She'd like to do the same for you. Has seen your work ethic for an unpaid favour to a friend. Knows you wouldn't let her down.

"Now," she smiles, moving along the conversation as to not dwell on a situation that might never happen. "We're about a week out from the next show - has Taehyung finished the new piece? Any causes for concern?"

"Yes, and no," you assure her, even if it is a little lie.

Taehyung scrapped his piece last minute and has been in the studio ever since your birthday. Had a new wave of inspiration, apparently. Declared as such about twenty minutes after the knocking from Danbi's bedroom had eventually come to an end, so you dread to think of what this new piece could be like.

Still, you trust his creative process, so know that whatever he produces will be more than enough to satisfy the gallery execs.

The meeting runs smoothly; no hiccups to iron out. The subway ride back to the middle of town has to contemplate what life could be like had you met Taehyung earlier; if you could have a career to be proud of by now.

But there was no Taehyung without Jeongguk, and no Jeongguk without the devastating impact of Seokjin. Funny, how the entire time you were with Seokjin, he'd wished you had a better job. Lamented the minimum wage, and your irregular working hours. Would steer the direction away from what the pays the bills whenever you'd meet one of his friends, and they'd ask, 'what do you do for work?'. He'd never been proud, and so in turn, nor had you.

You wonder if he'd be proud now. It's bittersweet.

And as you arrive at Jeongguk's favourite cafe and spot him immediately - chin in his palm, a soft pout on his lips, papers scattered all over his table - you're the one who feels proud.

Seeing the ones you love chase their dreams is a special sort of pride. One that makes your heart swell. So much potential. So much hope.

Ordering up fresh drinks before you head over, there's a thick tension in the air. Jeongguk doesn't even realise you're here yet. Is too consumed with thoughts of you, like the idiot he is. Thoughts you, and his future, and how he doesn't know how to plan anything when he doesn't know what life will look like a year from now.

He clocks you as you're confirming the order with the barista. A hot flash of panic disrupts his body, but it cools just as quickly. Fucks with his body temperature regulation. Makes him feel all clammy and horrible despite the aircon in the cafe.

There's a smile on your lips, and Jeongguk finds one on his, too. There's a shine to his eyes that only glitters whenever you're nearby, and it's noticeable all the way from across the cafe.

Coffees in hand, clothes remarkably formal for a day off, Jeongguk narrows his eyes as you approach.

"What have you been up to?" he queries instead of greeting you properly, not caring for small-talk. Wants to know the big stuff. His brain has been cruel to him today. Hopes you can help remedy it slightly.

"Gallery," you simply say, taking the seat beside him.

There are four chairs at the table. Yoongi had been sitting opposite Jeongguk. You could have chosen to sit there, too.

He doesn't mention it.

"Everything going alright?" He asks, reaching over for his coffee with a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks."

"All good, I think," you say, sucking a little air between your teeth.

He cocks a brow. "You don't sound convinced."

With a bit of a defeated shrug, you purse your lips together. "I just..."

The way you trail off is all too familiar. Jeongguk's used to it. Has been a while since you struggled to find your words so badly.

"Big girl words," he teases softly, which earns him a small laugh from you.

"Fuck off," you smile, then shake your head to realign your thoughts. "No, I just... Sorry. Did it again. I just don't know how sustainable this all is, yanno?"

Jeongguk doesn't say a word. Knows that you aren't done formulating just yet - and when you sigh, before launching into a little ramble, he's proven right.

"I mean, I'm already a shift down this week to help with prep, and next week I've had to book two days off work. And like, honestly, it's fine," you stress. "I enjoy it so much, but long term? When Tae's shows get bigger and bigger? I just dunno, Gguk. Dunno."

You want it to be long-term. Never knew it was something you wanted until you realised maybe you can't have it. Seem unattainable now in a way that you knew before you started helping Taehyung out. The thing so wonderful about dreams is that you fool yourself into thinking they can come true. You neglect rational thinking.

Confronted with the restraints of the industry, it's hard to ignore. Hard to pretend like you could still have it, if you really want it. Things like that don't happen for people like you.

"Well just wait until I get the restaurant going," he smiles, knowing he doesn't have a solution for you - but that he does have the ability to talk about the future with you in a way that doesn't feel all that terrifying. "When I'm super successful and have queues out the door, I'll hire you. Will pay you above minimum wage and let you work with Tae on the side."

"Oh yeah?" You grin, enthused by the childlike excitement in his sparkly eyes. "Gonna be a big hot shot restaurant owner?"

"I'll have you know, I'll be the CEO," he nods his head smugly.

"Oh, that's sexy," you tell him.

"I know."

You hum a little and then decide that a little flirt is okay. "Would be kinda hot, fucking the boss, wouldn't it?"

He raises a brow. Swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting his lip ring as he toys with it. "Would be a HR nightmare."

"Would give me a reason to call you Sir."

"Don't," he smiles, eyes closing, teeth showing. Sweetness encapsulates him despite the stickiness of the scenario that's playing out inside his head right now. Shakes his head. Slowly opens his eyes to find you again. Laughs. "You're fuckin' trouble, Byeol."

"S'why you like me."

"True," he admits rather shamelessly. Doesn't fancy denying it today. Not to himself. Not to you. Not to the world around him.

The air between you gets thinner. Feels like you can only keep breathing if you keep your eyes on one another. Up, and up you go into the atmosphere. Any higher, and you'll be in the fucking stars.

"I hate to ask..." Jeongguk murmurs and you immediately feel your floating soul crash back down to earth. The stars are off-limits today. Your feet must remain firmly on the ground.

"Then don't," you say sharply, not wanting the conversation to go in the direction you know he's steering it in.

"Byeol," he simply reprimands, knowing that it's a conversation that needs to be had. "You've not given me any updates."

"'Cause there's been nothing to report back," you say, as if it's no big deal; as if you haven't spent every waking moment thinking about it. As if your daydreams aren't getting more and more concerning. "I've skipped a month. That's all. It's not that uncommon."

"Well, according to WebMD, apparently some women get periods even when they are pregnant - like, certified, tested, proven true pregnant," Jeongguk states, his late-night research coming to the forefront of his mind. "That's not supposed to happen. Just like you're not supposed to miss your periods when you're not pregnant-"

"Gguk," you plead. "It's not that linear. All sorts of things affect periods."

"I know," he replies, and bless his heart, he really does think he knows. "Stress, eating habits, exercise, medical issues - I've read, like, 6 articles about PCOS in the last 24 hours. Didn't even know what it was last week."

You're fond as you smile over at him. "Why have you been reading PCOS articles?"

" Because ," he stresses, but gives no immediate follow up. Looks over to you with pleading eyes, like a puppy dog waiting for scraps. "Look B, I don't know what's going on. You won't tell me what's going on. The best I can do is try and understand."

"I've told you, Gguk. It's fine. Please. Just trust me."

It's a naive ask, for him to trust you, when you don't even trust yourself.

"Will you please just take a test?" He asks. "The longer it takes, the less options you'll have. We'll have."

You know he's right. Know that there's a test waiting in your bedroom, and that you've spent hours looking at because you're terrified of a result. A positive result, that is.

You won't admit to the way that the idea of a negative result makes you feel. Not to Jeongguk, nor to yourself. It's not what you want. You know that it wouldn't fit into your life. You know that the idea of being in Jina's position would wreck any goals or plans for your life.

And then you're feeling defensive. Pressured. Overwhelmed.

"Look, I said it's fine," you insist, trying to reassure not only him, but yourself too. "I know my body. It just does this sometimes. If anything, I'm probably less fertile than I should be."

"Yeah, but you don't know that-"

"And you don't know that I'm not."

"B, this affects us both," Jeongguk says, his patience waning, tone firming. He's right.

"I know that!" You snap back, 'cause it feels like he's backing you into a corner. "You think I'm not aware? Gguk, if I am-" you refuse to say the word, then quieten your voice. Look around. Get a little closer. "If I am , then I'm the one who has to deal with it. I'm the one who has to live with it. I'm the one who has to experience it."

"Oh what, so suddenly I play no part in this?" He argues right back, but keeps his voice quiet. Mirrors you. Is right there in the corner with you. If this is a boxing match, then he's not your opponent; he's the coach giving you water in the break and patching you up. There's no need to see him as the enemy. "I'm not just some random fucking guy, B. I'm not about to jump ship."

"Okay, hypothetical," you say, encouraging him to use his imagination a little. Try and see things how you see them. "It's positive. I don't want it, you do. Then what? What do we do?"

He's silent for a moment. Looks a little defeated as he shrugs. Doesn't look at you. "We'd get rid."

And even though it's what you think is the correct answer - putting priority on the carrier of the child - it still makes you a little sad. There are layers to such a decision. It's not straightforward. The complexities are beyond what you're capable of considering. There is no 'correct' answer. There are just choices; the one that you take, and the ones that you don't.

It's a curse how vivid your imagination can be; how you can imagine the rough skin by the tips of his fingers as he'd hold your hand in the waiting room, the look in his eyes as you turn to steal a glance at him before going through a pair of double doors that would ultimately change the outcome of your future, and the sterile scent of a medical facility that you'd really rather never visit.

You can picture his smile; pretty but ever so weak. Gorgeous little lies of 'it's okay' wrapped up with bows that could have maybe one day been tied in a child's hair instead.

Pull yourself together, you scold yourself. You don't even want a kid!

"If I were to get rid of it, while you wanted it... Gguk, you would resent me for what I took from you until the day you died," you say solemnly.

The gravity of it all is setting in. A positive result would ruin your lives regardless of whichever option you choose.

The pair of you have been gambling, and it seems like your luck is out.

"I wouldn't," Jeongguk frowns.

"How do you know?"

"Well how can you be certain that I would?" he counters. Is desperately trying see your point of view, but it's obscured by his own opinion on the matter. "Look, none of this is worth us getting worked up about until we know what the fuck we're dealing with. You might not even be pregnant."

He's right. You know he's right. The word makes your stomach lurch regardless.

So you nod, but plead, "Just give me a little time. Please."

He agrees. Knows that you do at least have a little more time before any certain decisions would need to be made. Walks you home. Tells you to keep him updated.

But then one day turns into two, then three, then four - and before you know it, you're ignoring one another, trying to pretend like all of this isn't happening; as if nothing has changed, and as if you haven't potentially fucked it all up just 'cause you couldn't stop messing about.

It's laughable, really. Your insatiable need to fuck one another has become its own form of birth control. Jeongguk isn't even waking up hard these days. Too stressed. No worry of fucking, now. Dick seems to be broken.

In all reality, he knows that it's nothing to do with his cock. He's not waking up hard, 'cause there's a lack of blood flow. Heart isn't pumping it like it normally does. Goes with the territory of not having you around.

But if he acknowledges that, he acknowledges everything he stands to lose before he's even had a chance to have it. Have you .

It's what he's thinking of now - cock limp, scowl hard - the night before Taehyung's art show. It's been five days. You've not kept him updated. He's not asked for updates.

You've both been pathetic - but he's attributing it to you. Thinks you're deliberately being childish so that he won't think having a kid is a good idea - as if he even wants them right now.

Sitting on the couches of Taehyung's studio space, the usual suspects are up to nothing much. Just having a few drinks the night before the show. It's a bit of ritual - nothing set in stone, just kind of what happens. The easing of Taehyung's nerves means he always wants to indulge.

Stewing in the corner like a little parasite, Jeongguk's face of thunder hasn't eased all evening. He never gives a straight answer when he's asked about these little moods of his, so no one has bothered to press too hard. He is at least in attendance - which is more than can be said for you.

"It really doesn't matter," Taehyung smiles, unphased by Jeongguk, stroking Danbi's back as she scrolls through her phone, looking for outfit inspiration.

"Yeah, no offence Danbi, but everyone's gonna be looking at the art," Jimin mumbles through a mouthful of overpriced breadsticks. "No one is gonna care what you wear."

Rolling her eyes, Danbi doesn't care for his opinion. "So? I want people to look at me, which is why my outfit needs to good."

Still stroking her back, Taehyung is so incredibly fond of her unwavering self-assured place in the world. "People will be looking at you," he supports her. "What's DB wearing?"

Flicking through to your message thread, which had ended earlier that afternoon with a very blatant bullshit excuse for your lack of attendance, Danbi scrolls up to find the picture you'd sent her earlier that day.

"Oh, it's nice," Taehyung downplays it. Knows exactly why Danbi is desperate to find something showstopping. Will never let her be aware of this, though. What he does do, is make sure it reaches the right people. "She shown you, Gguk?"

The grunt that Jeongguk makes is barely audible. If there's one thing he doesn't want to see right now, it's you. Especially you looking all fancy and shit.

He's still annoyed. You haven't spoken to him since your fight other than to send him dumb instagram reels. Rabbits hopping about. Shit like that. He smiles every damn time and it only serves to piss him off even more.

But, like the true nuisance she is, Danbi forwards the picture through to Jeongguk. She hasn't heard directly from you that you're fighting with Jeongguk, but anyone who has spent time with the both of you in the last few days will be able to figure it out.

Jeongguk knows better than to click through on the notification. Knows that if you wanted him to know what you're wearing, you would have shown him.

But he misses you.

Wants to see you, even if he knows it will only serve to annoy him even more.

He's proven right.

Standing in front of your mirror - the one used for your first selfie with the bird necklace on Christmas Eve, and also used for your own sadistic pleasure on that very first evening Jeongguk learned what it felt like to be yours - you're in a black dress.

Satin, he thinks. Something silky. It's short, like your dresses so often are, cutting off midway down your thighs. Fitted. Sweetheart neckline that blooms over the top of your chest, with sleeves that follow this same structured line. Shoulders fully exposed, there is a small tickle of satisfaction when Jeongguk notices your bird sitting prettily in place, right where it should be.

Even if you are annoyed, like he knows you are, you're keeping him close. It's more than can be said for last time. You've no intention of pushing him away or so it would seem. He takes comfort in this, a self-indulgent smile on his lips - until he realises and flattens them once more.

"S'fine," he just says as he locks his phone, as if his heart isn't beating all irregularly. "I'm sure she'll look nice."

Danbi glances over to Taehyung, who just rolls his eyes, and encourages her to show him more of her own options.

Jeongguk pretends to scroll through his phone. Is really just looking at that picture of you again. Hates the way it makes him feel. All fuzzy and out of sync. Perfectly safe and yet terrified all in the same fleeting moment.

Has him thinking about what he should wear, too, even if the other boys are telling Danbi that it really doesn't matter.

You look so well put together, he thinks. So intentionally gorgeous. He would say unintentionally , and knows you'd look just as gorgeous in one of his old shirts, but is well aware that you've put effort in. It should be appreciated.

It's decided - at two-thirty in the morning, all alone by himself, contents of his wardrobe piled onto the floor - that Jeongguk will also be wearing all black.

He will match you. It will be intentional. He will hope you notice.

'Cause even if he is a little pissed off with you, it doesn't matter. Had grown up with parents who'd bicker, but would always say 'there's no one else I'd rather argue with.'

He thinks the same could be said for the pair of you.

If your worst fears are confirmed, and you're forever tied to him, then it's something you'll need to learn to navigate. Neither of you are perfect, but neither of you are pretending to be. You're showing him exactly who you are by showing him nothing at all, right now.

And he adores you all the fucking same.

Jeongguk decides on black slacks, and will pair them with a thick belt. A satin shirt will be tucked in, unbuttoned just enough for a little bit of his chest to show. Nothing too indecent. Just wants to match your neckline.

The jacket he's chosen is red. Hopes it'll dare you to look at him, and prevent you from ever looking away. He's being bold, 'cause he stupidly thinks he needs to be, as if you won't be searching for solace in the form of him all night.

He also thinks he needs to consider the kind of man you want . The kind you need . You seem to go for the prim types. The proper. Well-dressed, well-groomed. He's got the outfit sorted. Knows he's being a little risky with the lack of a top button and tie, but he also knows he looks good - so fuck it.

Which is also what he says to his barber on the morning of the show.

"You've been growing it out for a while," she hums. Only re-permed it a couple of weeks ago. Hadn't been expecting him to come for a walk-in appointment so soon.

He shrugs. "Fuck it. It's just hair. It'll grow back."

She laughs, and tells him that he's right - but double-checks before she goes in with the clippers. He's not had anything so close to the scalp in about a year. Started growing it out around the same time you started showing up to the bar.

He braces himself. Grits his teeth. Don't let fear get the better of you.

"I'm sure."

Time stands still within the walls of the Ryu. Moments of life - fleeting expressions of biased emotions - are preserved for voyeuristic viewing pleasure. You're a guilty participant. Salivate over the mixed media, and equally mixed messages. Have a desire to understand. To decipher. To know.

The walls are dark. Slate grey when the floodlights are on, they look black under the diffused bulbs that focus solely on the works.

'Unplugged: The Lonely Hearts of the Digital Age' reads the exhibition branding on the front of the paper guide in your hand. There's an evocative nature to the pieces; an exploration of intimacy and isolation in the modern landscape of smartphones and high-speed internet.

"Oh, entirely," you smile pleasantly at the gentleman twice your age, who had come to stand beside you while you had been observing some of the work. He's been asking your thoughts, and you've been bullshitting spectacularly. "In a world where we're more connected than ever before, there somehow seems to be this... disconnect . A real lack of interpersonal relationships that stand the test of time."

He nods, half-moon glasses resting across the bridge of his short nose. "Too easy these days. Dating apps, and whatnot."

You cast your eyes down to the fingers he has wrapped around a champagne flute. He's without a ring. You wonder if he's a victim to them, too.

"The grass is greener mentality," you agree. Know all too well what it's like to be on the receiving end of such a dilemma. "Always searching for something... more."

A small chuckle emits from his thin lips as he continues to agree.

One of the serving staff, no older than a high school senior, offers their tray of champagne in your direction, but you decline. It's unusual of you - but it's no secret you've not been feeling exactly 'usual' lately.

From across the room, Jeongguk glances in your direction as you shake your hand and head, a polite smile on your lips as you refuse a drink. Your eyes don't flash to his, but he doesn't need them to.

When your gaze falls back to the artwork in front of you, he can easily see your perplexion.

He also notices how your skin doesn't sparkle like it usually does beneath gallery lights. A tight frown forms on his face to match yours.

The paintings you're looking at aren't Taehyung's. Jeongguk doesn't know the artist. Oil, he assumes from this distance. Hyperrealism. Enlarged. A matching pair with stark differences.

The first, to the left, is dark. Navy blues and deep purples depict the foils of condom wrappers, each with a name and date scrawled into them. They're scattered atop what looks like a legal document.

He can't work out the words from where he is. Doesn't realise they're divorce papers.

None of the wrappers match the name of the document, yet all of the wrappers are dated during the duration of the marriage.

On the right hand side, the other painting is clearly part of the same collection. A packet of oral contraception. 28 days worth. Includes the placebo days. Like the condoms, each empty window of the contraception has a name. Some repeating. Some not. There are no names written during the placebo week.

It begs the question; is the taker of the contraception just using the men when it's convenient for her? Or are they just using her when it's convenient for them, and leaving her in the dust when her body is unavailable?

You're not sure which scenario makes you sadder. Reminds you of this time last year. Reminds you of Seokjin. Reminds you of the people that you used to forget about him on the lonely nights.

If you were to think about your own pills, and the names that would inscribed, you know you'd have packet after packet with only one name. Everyday of the week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, every night. Over the placebo days, too.

Not because Jeongguk has been fucking you all day every day - although sometimes it does feel like that. No. It's not that all.

Instead, it would be because he gives you the intimacy you need to make those pills worth it. He doesn't have to constantly be in bed with you. Quite often isn't. It's just that you'll keep taking those pills 'cause you always want to be available for him in any capacity you can be. Those pills are his just as much as they are yours.

And you hate it.

Hate that you feel this way. Hate that indulging in such intimacy with the person you hold closest has resulted in such a clusterfuck of emotions. Hate that he isn't beside you right now, deciphering the names and making up ridiculous stories about the fictional people in front of you. Hate that when you glance over to his direction, you find him engaged in conversation with a group of people you consider friends, only to notice that Hayun is there, too.

Your arms fold a little tighter into your chest as your eyes fall back on the painting. You're alone, now, the man who had been chatting with you also now distracted by associates.

"Hey," a soft, feminine voice sounds next to you. Seoyeon. Hair loose, but with pretty little plaits running through it, she's wearing white trousers and a fitted blazer. Looks demure as ever. "You okay?"

A simple question that calls for a simple answer - yet it feels all rather complex.

You nod. Say you are. Return the question. She returns your answer.

"Gosh, that's depressing," she says of the artwork, and it makes you laugh. She's not wrong.

"Makes you feel something, at least," you offer, to which she hums in agreement.

"I suppose - but I was feeling perfectly happy before I saw it," she giggles, nudging your shoulder, seemingly aware of your less-than-stellar mood. "Watcha doing over here all alone?"

It's a great question. Fantastic question. Devastating answer.

Oh, so I've been fucking Jeongguk for months and he's convinced himself that I'm carrying his spawn and now he's mad at me because I haven't done the test to confirm nor deny. Oh why? Why I haven't done it? 'Cause it'll change the trajectory of my whole entire life and I'm fucking terrified. And I skip periods all the time. No biggie.

Now isn't the time for such honesties, though.

"Just wanted to read all the names," you say, nodding towards the art.

"See any you recognise?"

"Well, there is a Jimin on the first Wednesday," you grin.

"Why am I not surprised," Seoyeon laughs. "Our very own Casanova. Oh - speak of the devil!"

"Devil?" Jimin questions as he approaches you both with fresh champagne flutes in either hand. "Me? Please. You both know I'm an angel."

The way you incredulously both raise your eyebrows at him, bemused smirks on your faces, would suggest that no, you don't 'know' he's an angel.

"Oh, piss off," he laughs, standing between you both, offering you the champagne flutes. When you decline, he's curious. "Oh? Dry night?"

Nodding, you decide that you'll give as few answers as possible when it comes to your lack of drinking - not that it matters, given how much you've abused your body with star fuckers in recent weeks. Any damage is already, inevitably done.

"One of us needs to be the sensible one," you joke, and ignore the burning gaze you can feel from across the room.

His stare is sweltering, like early May heat after a freezing spring, regardless of the cool air that's currently circulating around the room.

It's stuffy, the way his eyes follow you. Suffocating.

And yet you love the warmth. Want evidence of him on your skin like the burn of a summer sun.

Turning your head as Seoyeon and Jimin natter, you're surprised to find his shamelessly dark eyes still on you.

Hair pushed back, he's wearing it shorter than usual. It takes you a moment to realise it's been cut. You think a part of you dies from such a devastating loss - but it's revitalised within the same millisecond. It's criminal how handsome he looks. How mature he seems. Jaw tense, bone structure highlighted, he's a vision. Heaven. Ethereal.

Matching your all black attire, there's one keen difference. One that throws you off entirely: his jacket. It's one you've never seen before. Red. A kaleidoscope of different tones. Dappled, they bleed into one another. You can tell it's expensive. Tell it's being worn with a purpose.

It's unusual for him, and yet he holds a beauty that can only be compared to that of Venus herself. The jacket was made for him.

But you don't like the idea that maybe actually it was made for him, by the only seamstress you know. See no other reason for him to own such an item.

Stupidly, it upsets you how good red looks on him. Pisses you off.

Across the circle of people he stands with is the seamstress herself.

Just as you match him with your silky black dress, she matches him with her scarlet nails and deep ruby cocktail number. Gorgeous in the way that her hair effortlessly waves over her shoulders, she pays your judgemental eyes no notice.

They look good together. Like they belong. A good girl. Upper class. Bad boy. Her bit of 'rough'. Jeongguk likes a good Romeo and Juliet type story. You're sure he loves the romanticisation of their coupling.

So caught up in your own head, you almost miss the way Jimin deliberately chooses to include you in on the conversation once more. Just asks your opinion on the piece, then asks if you know the artist. He wants to check that he's not the Jimin scrawled into the pill packet.

"I'll find out," you promise him - but you're certain he's not. Park Jimin isn't exactly the most unique of names, but you don't want to hurt his ego.

"Legend," he grins, before roping Namjoon in for his opinion on whether or not it's his name.

"It's nothing to be proud of," Namjoon assure him. "If it's you, you're being branded as a hit it and quit it kinda guy. You're only on there once. Most of them are on their a few times. You not good enough for round two?"

Scoffing, Jimin looks to you for defence.

You just smile. Make your excuses and leave. Bless him.

As beautiful as the show is, there's a sadness to it. It revives unpleasant memories. Provokes parts of your brain that have been well trained to not make a noise.

Schmoozing with some of the higher ups from Shilla finances, you're going for the hard sell. Telling them all about Taehyung, and how he's hotly tipped to be one of the most successful artists of this generation.

It's all bullshit, of course, but someone has to have that title. Why shouldn't it be him?

"He certainly does have a gift," one of the older men acknowledges. His name evades you now, but you remember him from networking events with Seokjin. Would always treat the serving staff with kindness, which is more than could be said for most of them. It's the only reason you're entertaining the conversation - the other men you recognise from those events have been avoided by you at all costs.

You're about to call Taehyung over, when the looming intrusion of a bowing gentleman makes itself known in your personal space. It's his presence you notice first. Aftershave second. Stoic, burly voice third.

"Director Choi," he interjects from behind you. "It's good to see you here."

Smiling, with just as much kindness as he shows to everyone, Choi nods back. "Kim Seokjin! I didn't realise you'd be here tonight."

"Ah, well," Seokjin smiles. You can hear it in his tone, even if you daren't turn to face him. Your skin suddenly chills as his large hands rest over the tops of your bare shoulders. "Was back in town, and couldn't miss it. You're speaking with the city's best curator."

The way he squeezes your shoulders, skin on skin, makes you want to be sick. It's as if you've had far too much of the champagne you've been turning down all evening - but your stomach is empty. All you'd be able to do is gag.

Yet your body is entirely frozen.

And neither of the men care enough to notice.

"It's quite the collection," Choi nods, but doesn't keep his focus on you. Like the serving staff, he's always polite to you, but will always see you as a second-class citizen. You're not a man. He doesn't respect you. As human? Yes, he does. But as a person? Why would he waste his time if he can't profit off of you? "Tell me Seokjin, how have you been? I hear your department is up by 3.7% this week?"

The conversation around you is stuffy, like that sticky summer heat clinging to your skin once more. It's unpleasant, but inescapable. There's nothing you can do, except let it ruin you.

One breath in; through the nose. One breath out; through the mouth.

Repeat.

One breath in; through the nose. One breath out; through the mouth.

There's a squeeze of Seokjin's hands; a silent instruction to not move your shoulders so much.

Half a breath in. Half a breath out.

You've an inability to focus on anything other than basic survival.

In the times you've seen Seokjin since the breakup, he's always been so good at acting as if it never happened. He touches you just the same. Speaks with just as much fondness that always made you think you actually meant something to him.

For so long, you wished he would be like that with you in public. Would proudly claim you as his own.

But now that he is, all you want is for him to look at you with remorse. Regret.

Sort of like Jeongguk is doing, as he spots you from across the room. Was just doing his quarter-of-an-hourly checks to make sure you're still okay - even if he is annoyed with you. Thinks that anyone who has ever spent even a smidgeon of time with you should know that the look in your eyes is far from okay.

They're downcast. To the floor. Your nostrils flare ever so gently as you inhale. Mouth forms a delicate pout as you exhale. Breathing exercises. He recognises them instantly. They're the same ones Jeongguk does when he's frustrated and trying his damn hardest to not break another display case.

It's been working lately. Not a permanent fix, no, but it's been going okay. Has finally been reading one of Namjoon's self-help books that's been on his bedside table for months. Fills the time that should be spent on you doing that, instead.

But Jeongguk thinks all of his hard work might just go down the fucking drain when he realises what's happening. When he notices exactly who has a possessive grip on you. When, from across the room, he hears Seokjin laughing at some vapid joke that he knows mustn't be even remotely funny.

"Hey, Dan," he calls over to your best friend, breaking her from her conversation with Taehyung. When she looks at Jeongguk, she follows the direction in which he nods.

She gasps. Drops her hold on Taehyung's forearm, and doesn't hesitate to beeline straight for you.

Jeongguk knows it should have been him - but he also knows you're stubborn. Knows you might have chosen to stay put just to spite him. Also knows that stress if bad for the body. Says so in another one of those webMD tabs open on his phone. You're stressed enough as it is. Don't need him causing a scene. Danbi is what you need right now.

Not him.

But he needs air - so heads out towards the stairwell and just keeps on going up. Up and up, until there's nowhere left to go. Closer and closer to the stars. Further and further away from his very own.

Elbows resting on the wall of the rooftop, Jeongguk lets a deep-rooted sigh exhale from his body. Lungs heavy in his chest, he's in need of respite - yet even that seems like an unattainable goal these days.

He wishes to be back in Busan; where the sun shines and so do you.

The darkness of the city envelopes him, now, much like it obscures his heart. Confuses it. Tells him all sorts of lies. She loves you. She loves you not. She loves you. She loves you not. He's not sure what's the truth, anymore.

He's not plucked at daisy petals since he was a kid, but he does occasionally pull glitter from his skin. That's when the rhyme repeats. That's how he knows he only has space in his heart for you.

And so when the bustling sound of the city is interrupted by a voice that isn't yours, he frowns.

"Watcha doing up here, buddy?"

The roll of Jeongguk's eyes is so damn weighted he's surprised it doesn't sound like stones are being turned. Of all the people he wants to be alone with right now, Hayun would be towards the bottom of the list. Likely beaten only by your shitbag of an ex.

"Needed some air," he lies. Doesn't look at her as she takes the space beside him, then shuffles over a little. Doesn't wanna touch her. The intrusion of her perfume is enough to make him feel sick. Has done ever since she approached him in the courtyard of Dionysus.

"Could have gone for a smoke with Tae," she says all rather pleasantly.

Jeongguk is well aware of this. Truth be told, he could do with a cigarette. Could do with many things right now.

Could do with a few shots, or even a high. MDMA, maybe. Something that'll have him thinking death is inevitable before he manages to reach his come up. Could spend the whole night pinging. Wouldn't have to think about you, or your ex, or the fact his heart already feels like it's got a little ecstasy running through it these days.

But you're not drinking, and so Jeongguk isn't smoking. Is finally actually trying to make some good decisions for a change, to atone for all of his questionable ones.

He shakes his head. Bunches his face up ever so slightly. Is dismissive as he simply says, "Didn't fancy it."

Just like he doesn't fancy engaging in this conversation.

She nods, pretending to care. Fabricating a persona that matches how awfully pretty she is. "You don't seem like yourself."

Mentally, Jeongguk sneers. Physically, he remains unchanged. Statuesque.

"You've been saying that ever since you came back," he eventually sighs. Looks over to her. Doesn't mean to be so cold, but frankly no longer has the patience. "You can't fuck people over and expect them to welcome you back with open arms. Doesn't work like that, Yun."

Hayun's laugh is parasitic. Gets under his skin. Crawls about. Makes him feel sick. His body rejects it.

"She's inside your head," is all she says. "Never used to be like this before she came around."

In the far distance, a police siren sounds. It's swallowed up by the fumes of rattling exhaust pipes and the posing arrival of planes from foreign lands. In a city that never rests, Jeongguk thinks it mad that Hayun expected him to remain exactly as he was.

Doesn't even register what she says about you. Pays it no attention.

"I don't wanna keep doing this, Hayun," Jeongguk says quietly.

It's strange, because he knows it's the 'right' thing to do, but it still doesn't feel entirely correct.

Years of knowing her - of loving her - have been reduced to nothing but resentment and wasted time. Everything he experienced with her equates to emptiness. The good - of which there was plenty - and the bad - of which there was marginally more.

"What do you mean?" she asks, as if she doesn't already know.

"I don't wanna pretend like we're still friends," he simply states. "It's doing nobody any favours."

It's something he should have said a long time ago. Something he's known for far longer than he's wanted to admit. Something Jimin has been telling him for years.

"Gguk," she tries, and reaches out for his hand - but Jeongguk tears it away from her.

"No," he reaffirms. Is setting boundaries. Is being as firm with her as he wishes you'd be with Seokjin. He keeps his voice measured. Sensible. Wastes no more energy than is needed. "I'll be perfectly cordial with you, but I'm not gonna act like we're anything more than strangers. Said it yourself, you don't know who I am these days. Please stop trying to find whoever you think I used to be."

"So I guess the marriage pact is vetoed?" She tries to joke. Thinks that making light of the situation will ease things. Make them less awkward.

He doesn't dignify her with a direct response to that. Instead, he stands a little straighter. Taps his ringed fingers against the wall so that a clunky pat sounds against the urethane coating that covers the entire roof area. Turns to face her. Looks down upon her. "I'm asking you nicely, Hayun - but if I have to ask again, I won't be."

There's nothing she can say to reel him back in. Not anymore. Not like she used to. She knows this. Hates this.

But one thing Hayun refuses to ever do is embarrass herself. Not for a man. Especially not for one she didn't even want that badly in the first place.

That's exactly the issue at hand, though. He was always the one chasing her. Always. Must have worn through a hundred pairs of shoes in pursuit of her - but he's stopped running now, and she can't quite wrap her head around it.

"Okay," she simply says. Smiles. It's insincere. Jeongguk doesn't realise this, 'cause it looks like every other fuckin' smile she's ever cast his way. "Look, emotions are high. I won't take this to heart. Whenever you're ready, you know where to find me."

Glancing over to the door, Hayun's ruby-red lips falter. Her smile almost cracks, but she holds herself well.

"Oh, goodie," Hayun hums. "Suppose I should leave you to it."

Jeongguk doesn't follow her gaze. Knows that there's only one person who could evoke such a reaction - and right now, he's annoyed with you, too.

He does, at least, say, "I suppose you should."

It's not until Hayun begins to strut away that Jeongguk turns to the door. Not to watch her walk away, no.

To watch you walk towards him, instead - but you don't.

You stay leant against the door frame. There's a sultry smile on your lips, and he's surprised to see they move a little as Hayun approaches. He can't hear you, but he knows your lips almost better than he knows his own. Can work out exactly what you're saying.

Lipstick's a little smudged.

Jeongguk knows that it absolutely is not - but the way Hayun's hand lifts to her lips suggests that she doesn't know this.

It's evident you're trying to evoke some sort of insecurity in her. Seems to have worked. Also seems to be incredibly mean-spirited - but he's not gonna hold it against you. Knows that it's the least Hayun deserves. It's not like he was exactly kind to Seokjin upon meeting him, either.

The sounds of the city echo out around you as a small breeze carries the scent of the trees that are finally starting to rebloom after a harsh winter. There's hope to be found in the darkness of this night. The promise of rebirth.

Or at least there is, until you begin to make excuses to leave.

"Just came up for some air," you explain, not looking to engage in conversation with him. If anything, you just feel like you're losing your breath.

He nods. Purses his lips. Turns away from you. Hopes you'll come to join him.

There's a you-sized spot right beside him. Hayun had tried forcing her way in, but the fit just wasn't right.

His broad shoulders widen as his elbows rest back upon the wall, body silhouetted in the skyline. Something about him today feels so new. So different. Maybe it's just the hair - but hair holds history. You feel like he's cut you out of his. Is starting afresh, maybe.

Whatever the case, he's clearly not concerned in inviting you into his current narrative. Is quite literally blocking you out.

You had arrived to find him locked in conversation with Hayun. Engaged. He'd watched her walk away, and the moment she was gone, couldn't stand the sight of you, or so it seems.

And so as Jeongguk waits - wishes - for you to walk towards him and slink your arm around his waist, you decide to cut your losses. Hadn't even come up to the roof to see him. Had been hoping to be alone after the whole Seokjin debacle.

It's not like you hadn't known Seokjin would be in attendance tonight.

He had messaged you to confirm the date. You just hadn't expected him to waltz in like a proud partner, parading you around in front of his colleagues.

So yeah, you had been shocked. Had been unable to respond in a way that accurately conveyed how you felt. Had panicked. Had cried in the storage room that Danbi had dragged you into while she gave you a pep talk and wiped away your stray tears, before suggesting you get some air.

You wonder if perhaps she knew Jeongguk would be here. Seems likely, knowing her.

Your lip trembles as you go to speak, unspoken words vibrating between them. There's no sound. Just the city. The cars, and the revellers from a bar a few blocks down. Jazz music echoing up the stairs to the rooftop, too.

And then there's Jeongguk's voice. Quiet. Controlled. Commanding.

"The first bird," he says. Looks down as he does so. Builds his confidence, then turns around to look at you. Is displeased to see your body facing away from him now, about to walk away - as if you hadn't instantly turned your head to look at him. "The first one. We went to the water park. Some guy looked at you in a way you didn't like, and you went straight on over and told him to stop being a perv. Remember?"

Of course you do.

But you say nothing. Do nothing. Just turn your body. Let him know you're listening. He continues.

"You know your limits, B. You know your boundaries."

You nod, now. Still stay silent.

Jeongguk's jaw grates, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. You're avoiding his confrontation, just like you've been avoiding all talks of anything serious since that day at the cafe.

And it's pissing him off.

"So why do you let him overstep them?" Jeongguk continues - and finally, this accusation gets a rise from you.

"I don't let him do anything," you scoff - and then you accuse. "You're the one I've just found hiding up on the rooftop with your ex. What about those boundaries, huh?"

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. Turns away from you. Looks out over the city, and wishes it would swallow him whole. "You've got no fuckin' idea, B. No idea."

"So then tell me!" You say, as if it's as easy as reciting your ABC's. "I'm not a mind reader-"

"And nor am I!" He says sternly, but doesn't raise his voice any higher than yours. "You've spent half the week ignoring me, only for you to barely even look at me now. You're not even wearing any glitter -"

"Why does that even matter?" You interrupt, unsure exactly of what he's trying to say.

Is the lack of glitter intentional? Yes.

Is it for the reasons he assumes? Probably not.

"'Cause we both know he fuckin' hates it," he snaps, decidedly far more pissed off now that he's speaking his thoughts into existence. "We both know you didn't wear it because of him in the past. So for you to show up with no glitter? Let him leech all over you? After he sent you all those fucking roses, and you won't fucking talk to me? Tell me what I'm supposed to think, huh?"

"Why does it even matter to you?" You fight back. It takes two to tango, and he seems to know the steps pretty fucking well. "You've been ignoring me too-"

"It matters to me because you might be fucking pregnant, B!"

Silence shatters around you both. Steals any words that could be said in the wake of such a declaration.

You roll your eyes. Do a fantastic job at pretending as if you don't feel like your world is caving in on itself.

"No, you don't get to treat me like I'm being irrational when you've been drinking cranberry juice all evening," he scathes, the frustrated gestures of his hands letting you know just how upset he is - and rightly so. "You don't get to act like you've not been thinking about it too."

"We don't even know if I'm pregnant-"

"And who's fault is that?!

"Gguk-"

"No, you're being such an asshole about this, B. This doesn't affect just you. This affects me too, okay?

Shaking his head, Jeongguk turns away from you. The way you're behaving is so unlike you, or so he thought. Maybe he didn't know you as well as he thought. Maybe he did get wrapped up in fallacies of you; in the what if.

"I fucking defended you," he says quietly. Isn't even sure if you can hear him. Doesn't care. Shakes his head and lets it dip between his disappointed shoulders. You'd be forgiven for think he was giving his next words careful thought. In all reality, he just starts ranting. "When he was at the tennis club, and was chatting shit, I defended you. Me . And yet you're more concerned with keeping up appearances for him ."

"You did what ?"

Now that he's started, Jeongguk can't stop. Not when he turns around. Not when he looks at you. Not when he starts to walk towards you.

"I insinuated we were together to get him to shut the fuck up," Jeongguk scoffs, thinking about his former self. Is embarrassed, now. Is letting his frustrations show because fuck it . He's hurting . Feels like a deer bleeding out on the side of a road, left to rot by some asshole driver who rammed straight into him at a hundred miles per hour. "So he's out here, showing up to your event, putting moves on you - even though he thinks you're with someone else - and you're fucking giving him the green light. Real fuckin' nice of him. A stand up guy. Respect must be his middle name. You really know how to pick 'em, B."

"Literally, how was I supposed to know any of that?!" You ask, eyes wide, brows furrowed. These new revelations are just as devastating as they are infuriating. All you can do is repeat a previous sentiment. "I'm not a fucking mind reader!"

But Jeongguk's irate now. Comical, almost, in how he downplays his anger.

"Oh, well, forgive me for assuming that you wouldn't bend to your exes every fucking whim!" He exclaims, a sarcastic smile on his face that snaps to a scowl within an instant. "I didn't think it was important because I thought you were beyond that point-"

"You're being cruel," you interrupt him, because he is. He knows how hard you've worked. Has been with you every step of the way - but this is how he views you?

"Me?" He laughs. It's cold.

"Yes," you say. "You."

"Nah." He shakes his head. Casts his eyes to the floor, 'cause looking at you like this only makes him feel even more frustrated with the current state of affairs. "Cruel is what Seokjin's doing right now - but you're giving him a free pass."

"I'm not. I don't want him leeching all over me," you say quietly, ashamed, turning away from him as you walk across the roof. Crouching, you bundle yourself up protectively, as if it'll make a difference. As if you can shield yourself from your friendship with Jeongguk as it comes crashing down on you both.

The only thing that makes any fucking sense to either of you right now is that you'd do it all again.

He'd ruin the friendship a million times over.

Not because he doesn't care, or because he's okay with losing you. Quite the opposite.

He'd ruin the friendship because - fuck it - that isn't what this is. The friendship flew out the window months ago. Maybe he was too late to realise it. Maybe he should have tried to claw it back in - but what use would that have been? It would have been wounded. Scratched to smithereens. Damaged.

Standing up straight, you curse at the sky. Are saddened by how few stars are out. Feels like they're shying away. Maybe they're ashamed, too.

"I have to head back," you say. Are defeated as you turn to face Jeongguk. "Tae's doing his speech, soon."

Jeongguk nods. Looks to the floor. Doesn't want you to go. Knows he hasn't exactly done anything to make it worth staying.

Both struggling with the current state of affairs, there's no one to blame. Joint bad decisions have led you here.

But he wants you close. Wants things to feel normal. Is willing to do anything.

"Look, your ex is down there being a prick," Jeongguk sighs. He waits for a moment. Lets you work out what he's gonna say in your own head. Wants to see your reaction before any of his bias comes into play. "He thinks we're together.... The best way to get him off your back?"

Your lips part ever so slightly. A crease forms between your brows, but your eyes remain kind. "Gguk..."

Shrugging, he plays off the weight of a suggestion he hasn't even vocalised yet. "He thinks we're together. Makes sense for us to act like we are."

For reasons you can't explain, the idea of other people seeing you and Jeongguk act intimately towards one another fills you with fear. It's not like it's an abhorrent thing - but to see the way your friends look at you as you present yourselves as a couple is to see their genuine reaction to it. If they're disgusted, you'll know that you're not suited. If they're elated, it will only play into these weird feelings that you've been having and are so desperately trying to avoid.

Eyes scanning him, you try and work out what he thinks of it all. If he's disgusted, you could probably live with that.

If he's elated?

Makes you feel queasy. Scared.

He holds out his hand. Knocks his head to the side. "C'mon. Face those fears of yours. Hold my hand."

It's bizarre, how Jeongguk has quite literally licked your arse, and yet this feels like the most obscene thing he's ever asked of you.

When you arrive back in the main room, Jeongguk stands behind you, ever so slightly to the side. Loops his arm around your waist. It's unintentional, the way his hand comes to rest over your stomach. Fingers splayed, he pulls your back to his chest, and you pretend like you're able to stand up straight without his support. Pretend as if the world around you isn't caving in on itself.

It wouldn't matter, even if it was. You're safe here. Safe with him.

And yet you insist on pushing him away.

"I wouldn't stand like this with a boyfriend," you say. "Too overbearing."

"Well, I would stand with a girlfriend like this," he assures you. The fingers that aren't firmly keeping your stomach protected come to your chin. Encourage it to the side. Get you looking at him. "I'd stand with her like this," he whispers, glances behind you so briefly that you almost miss it. "And when her ex boyfriend is looking in our direction - of which he is now - I'd kiss her."

"That wouldn't be very professional," you whisper.

"No," he acknowledges. "I don't suppose it would be."

He pulls away.

"I'll let you get on," he says. "The second he even so much as breathes in your direction, you come to me."

"Gguk-"

"You make your excuses and you come to me."

"I can handle it."

"Fine then," he shrugs. Begins to turn away, but makes sure to say, "I'll come to you."

And despite the deep-rooted need for you to prove yourself, there's a stranger sitting next to your determination. She goes by the name of Desire. And all she does is fucking laugh.

As Jeongguk rejoins his usual crowd, he's met with silence.

"Hmm?" He hums, reaching over for the glass Jimin is holding. Doesn't know what he's drinking. Doesn't ask. Downs it. Hands it back. "What are we talking about?"

Mouths a little ajar, neither Taehyung nor Danbi quite know what to make of what's happening, nor the foul mood that so clearly has a grip on their friend.

"Riveting," Jeongguk says sarcastically, when the silence lasts for a little too long. "No, really. Please go on."

But then, right on cue, Seokjin is heading in your direction, and Jeongguk may as well be bleeding through his tear ducts, given how red his sight is.

Bolting for you, Jeongguk almost knocks into one of the waiting staff. Spends a short moment apologising, then makes sure to interact with the people standing behind you. Has never seen them before in his life. Has no idea who they are - yet he greets them like old friends. Wants Seokjin to question his place. Wants him to think that Jeongguk is so much more important than he actually is.

And when he arrives to find Seokjin already speaking with you?

Yeah. Ain't no way he's letting him win.

Jeongguk does not give a fuck. Does not care about the opinions of anyone else. The world around him is burning red, flames that refuse to flicker out - and you crash through them like a beam of white light. A shooting star that offers the promise of something better. Something new.

Imposing in his stance, Jeongguk comes to stand beside you. Offers his hand out to Seokjin.

"Ah! Seojoon," he says, deliberately getting the wrong name, and not caring that maybe it's indicative of the fact your former fling has also been on his mind. Fine! Maybe he's obsessed with the fact other people have more of a claim on your romantic history than he does. Sue him. "We met at the golf course, remember?"

Seokjin doesn't correct Jeongguk on the incorrect name, nor the incorrect location. Knows exactly what he's doing. Shakes his hand.

"Jeongguk, yes. You had to run off pretty quick, no? Didn't get a chance to rally."

Oh, but we did, Jeongguk thinks. Knows it's a good job he didn't stick around. Would have probably thrown a racquet at Seokjin's face. Accidentally.

"Mm," Jeongguk nods. Protectively grips the nape of your neck. "Had plans. Maybe next time."

Seokjin nods. "Maybe."

The tension between the men is getting thicker.

Soon, you won't be able to breathe.

So you smile towards your ex, and say, "Excuse us."

Which only serves to piss Jeongguk off. This is your shot. Your chance to show Seokjin how little you care - and instead, you want to run away. Un-fucking-believable.

Still he smiles at Seokjin, as if he knows something that he doesn't. Wants him questioning this interaction for weeks. Regretting. Lamenting.

"See you around," Jeongguk says pleasantly, as you lead him down the hallway, your pace getting angrier with each step. He rolls his eyes. Knows you're gonna wanna fight, and thinks fuck it. Will just let it happen this time. Can't be fucked with keeping the peace.

The janitor's closet you had visited with Danbi is down this hallway, and it's where you're headed. Want privacy. Need it.

Especially 'cause Jeongguk's spouting off like a facetious twat before you're even inside. "Worst fake girlfriend I've ever had."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to pretend to be your fucking girlfriend!" You hiss quietly once you're inside, as Jeongguk knocks across the latch on the door, as if anyone else would even think to be in a janitor's closet right now.

You only know the door passcode from when you had been setting up, and even that was a lucky guess. Had just tried the code that works for another door in the gallery when Danbi had dragged you here, too.

"Well, it's not that fucking hard!" He hisses back, trying the handle just to make sure it doesn't open.

"Apparently it is!" You reply childishly.

Turning to face you, Jeongguk is obscured by the lack of light coming in through the small window on the back wall. You can barely see one another, 'cause neither of you have flicked the light on - and quite frankly, you don't want to. It's easier to fight when you can't see how delicate he looks, or how handsome his jaw is when it flexes out of frustration.

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, but it isn't humorous. "Even the caricature artist in Busan had to ask if we were a couple. We are perfectly capable of looking like one."

"I'm sure she asks everyone that!"

"Oh, piss off-"

"Fine!" You say defiantly, barging past him. If he wants you to piss off, then you will. He's the one who got you into this mess. Frankly, you don't give a shit at this point - but the door won't budge. Lock won't move. You yank on the door, as if that will help.

For all of Jeongguk's internalised frustration, he smirks, now. Folds his arm. Perches his ass on the counter by the sink.

Trying to prize the latch open, you're stupidly worried about breaking a nail - but you refuse to ask for help. Look to the side for something you can use for leverage. Can only see mops. Half think about throwing one at Jeongguk.

He doesn't interrupt your struggle. Doesn't tell you that there's a second latch towards the top of the door.

"If you don't let me out, then God help me, Jeongguk, I will scream," you threaten. "I will scream so fucking loudly that everyone hears, and then I'll let you explain why you wouldn't let me out."

Jeongguk laughs. "Go on then."

But you don't. You won't. This is somewhere you hope to work, one day. You can't risk embarrassing yourself over something as pathetic as this.

If you do, then it means Seokjin has won.

Jeongguk is many things. He's frustrating, and confusing, and yet simple and straightforward. He's an oxymoron, and on occasion, just a moron. At the crux of his identity though, is a good human. There is one thing he is not, and that is cruel.

So he stands. Sighs. Walks towards you and leans up to the latch you've neglected to touch. Puts a hand on your waist to steady himself, not that he really needs to. Pulls the lock free. Doesn't let go of your waist, but he isn't keeping you trapped. You're free to fly.

And yet you stay put, breath hitched in your throat, time standing still for a moment.

"Go," Jeongguk says quietly, his raspy voice affecting you in ways that it shouldn't be right now.

But to go would be to give him what he wants - and you absolutely do not want to do that.

Most importantly, you don't want to leave. Would gladly fight with him right now, 'cause at least you're actually talking.

"You go," you reply childishly.

"Me?" He laughs. Comes a little closer. Practically whispers in your ear. "B, you're the one who wanted to go. So, go."

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

He scoffs. "Fine."

It's a childish back and forth. One of you needs to grow up, and take control of the situation - and as Jeongguk's hand grips your waist a little tighter and spins you round, it's evident who is taking that role.

There's a dominant assertion to the way he moves you. You've seen this side of him a few times, but it never fails to take your breath away.

Hands pinned above your head all rather suddenly, a single one of his palms can keep both of your wrists suspended. It's always driven you a little wild before - but he's pissing you off. Every little thing he does will annoy you, now. Even the sexy shit.

In fact, especially the sexy shit.

The hand of his that isn't clamped around your wrists comes to the base of your throat, and you can't help but gasp a little in surprise.

His voice is deep and low as he tells you to 'say chess.'

But you shake your head. Won't do a damn thing he tells you. "No."

He grips tighter. "Tell me to stop."

"No."

"Fine then," he husks. Presses his knee between your thighs. Spreads them. Drops the hand from your throat to your hips. Get you positioned just right. Pulls you further up his thigh. Encroaches on your personal space.

"Stop acting like you don't know how to fake things." His voice is dulcet. "Your ex should be pretty used to it."

"Hardly the same thing, is it?" You hiss back, but Jeongguk laughs, and presses a kiss to the side of your ear. Then the lobe. Then beneath your ear. Down your throat. Stops only once he reaches your collarbone. Raises his eyes. Looks directly at you.

"I'm gonna make you cum," he tells you with arrogant certainty. "For real. You're not gonna fake that. Gonna make you cum, and then you're gonna hold my hand in front of your ex-boyfriend and fake that like a good girl."

The energy he's radiating is electric; the right amount of jealousy and desire making you the only thing his brain can focus on for longer than a second at a time.

"Gguk-" you gasp as he pushes your hips down. The leverage is crappy, the angle not quite right, but the intention is there.

Jeongguk glances over his shoulder, to check he wasn't imagining the chair he swore he noticed earlier, and almost thanks the God he doesn't believe in when his eyes land on it.

He turns back to face you. Lets your hands drop from above your head. Cups your jaw. Brushes his lips against yours.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me, aren't you, B?" He says, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Doesn't it let it linger. You don't get a chance to kiss him back, for he's moving you both to the chair. He sits, legs parted, and gets you straddled across his thigh. You're right where he wants you. "You're gonna ride my thigh and cum like a good fuckin' girl."

The satin of your panties rubs against his slacks without him even trying.

Hands beneath your dress, he squeezes at the flesh of your ass, spreading you. Pulls you up his thigh. Lets you build a motion. Encourages it.

He doesn't complain when your hands tangle in his hair. It surprises you at first, just how short it is. You've never experienced it like this. It almost distracts you from what's actually happening.

But then one of his hands comes to toy with your chest as you continue to ride his thigh. The neckline makes it so fucking easy for him. He gets you exposed, but doesn't keep it that way for long. Latches onto your nipple as soon as he fucking can. Groans against you, and then the sensation of his vibrating tongue forces the wetness to seep from your cunt.

Your rhythm against his thigh is well-established, now. Both of his hands are free to tug down on the top of your dress.

It's a pretty dress. Gorgeous, in fact, and you look incredible in it - but all he wants to do is take it off. Wants you naked.

For now, he'll settle with your satin-covered cunt rubbing up against him, and your tits nice and exposed for him to toy with. He's using you for his own gratification, and you're doing just the same.

His tongue flicks against your nipples, hands squeezing your tits firmly together. He sucks. Squeezes. Grazes his teeth. Makes you feel so fucking good. Part of you thinks he'll get you cumming just from the contact of his lips with your hardened nipples - but the way his strong thigh is acting as the perfect ridge? Fuck .

"I'm close," you promise as the pleasure trickles through your bloodstream like warm honey. Sweet, and delicate, there's something about orgasms earned by Jeongguk that always makes you feel like you've ascended. Heaven really is a place on earth. Remarkably, it appears to be in a janitor's closet with all of your closest friends just down the hallway.

Jeongguk nods. Slowly pulls away from your nipples, the suction so pleasurable you can't help but whine. "I won't stop you."

He means it. Keeps your nipples wet with his spit, tongue lapping against them, as your hips buck against him. Your whines get a little deeper. Friction stronger. Breaths needier.

And then, as soon as your body begins to shudder that tell-tale way, he lets his tongue loose.

"That's it, beautiful," he husks. Looks at you with stark adorned eyes. "Come on me like the pretty slut you are. What would they think, huh? If everyone here knew what you were doing? Be louder, baby. Let them know. Let them know how much you like to cum for me."

You whimper his name as your grind begins to ease - but Jeongguk doesn't let it. Uses both of his hands. Grabs your ass. Is intentional with the way he bounces his thigh up against you, forcing the sensation to jolt through you once more. Elbows on his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck, you're whining as he overstimulates you.

"God, I'll cum again," you tell him, teeth grazing his neck. He kinda likes the pain. Likes that he'll be waking up with a hickie, no doubt.

"Good," he grits. Is rough with your body. Wants that second orgasm, and he wants it now.

"Gguk-" you whimper, but can't manage to say anything more, the wave of pleasure taking over you so much faster. Chest heaving, you're unable to do anything other than languidly grind until your body stops. Hearts beating in sync, Jeongguk is so overwhelmed by how good it is to feel you come undone for him, he almost doesn't notice the way you begin to palm his incredibly hard crotch.

"Shit," he hisses. This was supposed to be about you. He shouldn't be letting you do this - and yet he's reaching for his belt. Is frantic as he unbuckles. Opens up his pants. Takes over from you. Dips his hands into his underwear. Wraps his hand around his hard, leaky cock. Smears the precum from his tip all over his head. Wants it in your mouth - but has other, more pressing ideas. "Can you stand for me, baby?"

Barely. Shaky on your legs, you do your best. Let him guide you - thankfully, to the door. Back pressed against it, Jeongguk gets you to hold the skirt of your dress up. Pushes your panties down, but only just enough to expose a small amount of your cunt. They're still around the top of your thighs, slick with evidence of your orgasm.

Jeongguk lines himself up. Rests the head of his cock against the edge of your underwear. Tells you, "I'm gonna cum in them. Gonna cum in your panties, and then you're gonna wear them all fuckin' evening."

"Please," is all you pathetically whimper.

It doesn't take long for him to get there. He's been worked up all week. He wanks himself off for you. Whines. Whispers shit about how hot you are. How much he likes doing shit like this.

Jeongguk grips onto your arm as his climax hits. Body doubling, he has no choice but to let his forehead rest on your shoulder.

"I'm cumming. Fuck. Fuck," Jeongguk curses. Tilts his head. Presses a wet kiss to the base of your neck as his body jolts and the first rope of cum spurts into your underwear. "Fuck, baby."

"That's it," you encourage, obsessed with the way he's whimpering, body all weak and feeble as it shakes for you.

He groans now. Grips his cock even tighter. Milks himself for all he's worth. Fucking ruins your underwear. Lets the top of his cock rub up against your clit. Massages your slick and his cum together. "Fuck."

When he finally pulls away, he says nothing. Immediately pulls his pants up as if he can't believe what he's just done, then pulls your panties up, too. Hooks the sides over your hips, pulling the mess he's made tightly to your soaked cunt. Cups his hand over your heat. Presses. Rubs. Teases little circles over your clit. Presses down more firmly. Builds speed.

"Gguk," you whine, grabbing onto his shoulders.

"Again, baby," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Cum again for me."

"I can't," you whine, the overstimulation about to kick in - but he dismisses it. Knows that if you wanted him to stop, you'd say 'chess'.

"You can, baby," he promises. Uses the hand that isn't massaging your clit to angle your jaw. Doesn't even think as he steals a pretty little kiss from your lips. Doesn't realise it begins to send you over the edge. "You're gonna cum like you're mine."

And how can you do anything else but succumb to his demands?

Lips on his, brows furrowed together, he swallows all of your pretty little whines, as your body shudders for him. He keeps you steady. Keeps you supported. Keeps his tongue in your mouth, and his hand rubbing your panties. Doesn't ease up until you pull away from his lips.

"Gguk," you pant. "Please."

Nodding, he eases slowly. Doesn't wanna let go too quickly. Keeps kissing you. Won't stop that. Never wants to stop that. Is still annoyed with you, yes, but knows he has a duty of care, now. Also knows he'd never forgive himself if he didn't take every chance he gets to kiss you.

When he finally pulls away, forehead resting against yours, he's spent. You're both panting, both struggling to formulate any words in the wake of such a devastating orgasm.

Brushing a few strands of hair back from your face, Jeongguk closes his eyes. Nudges his nose against yours. Shows a little restraint. Whispers, "You've got a show to return to."

Nodding, you shake a little from his grip. Say nothing as you adjust your dress. Try your best to ignore the thick pool of his cum that's gathered in your panties. The tops of your thighs will end up smeared in the evidence of him, and, quite disgustingly, it only serves to make you even more turned on.

"I'll follow behind you," he promises as he begins to sort himself out, too.

Nodding, you're a little unsure of exactly what to do. You're scared that someone will know. That you'll leak.

"I'm scared," you admit. Explain your worry. He rolls his eyes, but smiles as he does, so.

He tugs on your hands, and props you up against the counter towards the back of the small room. Spreads your legs. Assesses fuckin' nothing, 'cause it's so dark in the room - but knows your pussy almost as well as he knows his own name. Licks to the left of your lips. To the right. Ends in one thick stripe up the centre. Sucks ever so gently once he reaches your clit. Knows that your cunt - your leaky, needy, hole that he loves to stretch out so much - must be going insane from the lack of attention it's getting.

"You'll be okay," he assures you. Stands, and gives your pussy a playful spank. "C'mon. You've got horny old dudes to schmooze."

"Is that gonna get you off?" you tease slightly, your annoyance with him a little subdued.

"Maybe," he shrugs, already knowing it mostly likely will. "You're gonna walk around that gallery covered in my cum, and no one else but us is gonna know it," he smirks, the gravity of what he's just done finally kicking in. Cups your jaw. Presses a kiss to your lips. Husks, "You're gonna go out there and act like you're mine - 'cause right now, you are."

You don't argue against it.

The pair of you meander down the corridor in near silence. His hand is on your back, but your arms are tentatively folded across your chest. Each step is accompanied by your keen ears checking for audible evidence of your sin.

So caught up in your own worries, you don't notice how quiet the gallery itself is. How few people seem to be milling about. How the main lights are on now, and how it only seems to be those wearing 'staff' lanyards within the main space.

Pursing his lips as he realises, Jeongguk tries not to laugh.

"Oh, shit," you whisper, pulling on his wrist so you can check the time on his watch. 10:13. The show was scheduled to finish at 10, but you're sure most people will have filtered out before then. Have no idea what the time was when Jeongguk had dragged you away from the main room.

"S'fine," he mumbles. Grips a little tighter on your waist. Doesn't let you pull away, like he fears you will now that appearances don't need to be kept up.

You don't. Instead, your arms drop from their position over your chest, and reach for his hand, guiding him the direction of the (now unmanned) cloak room.

There's little chatter as you grab your coats - the only ones left there.

"Need to show you something," you mumble, digging into your pockets, and pulling out half a dozen empty tubes.

Jeongguk looks at you with a sense of frayed confusion - but if he were to thread the strings together, he'd see the bigger picture.

Dusted in fine glitter of different colours, the tubes don't seem out of the ordinary for you. Is totally the kind of thing he'd expect to see in your pockets.

Quietly, you grit your teeth together. Suck in a little air. Are embarrassed to admit what you've done.

But the person in front of you is your best friend. Even with judgement will come acceptance. There always is. Honesty is the least you owe him.

"I know I'm not wearing any glitter," you start slowly. Hold the empty tubes up, then toss them into the bin beside the concierge table. Knock your head to the side and encourage him to start walking with you. He does.

He also reaches into his own pocket, and pulls out his car keys. Passes them over to you. "Might be above the limit. Can you drive?"

Glancing over to him, shocked by the request, you double check. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "You can crash at mine. It's fine."

Despite it all, there's still no one else he wants to end the night with. No girl he'd rather take home. Platonic or romantic.

"Sleep, I mean," he adds. "Not physically crash the car. Please don't crash my car."

You just smile. Nod. After the hideousness of the week spent barely talking to him, there's nothing you want more than to just feel like things are still normal.

"So the tubes?" he asks as you reach the car. He lets you unlock it, but adjusts the seat for you before letting you get in. Also puts his jacket down on the cushion, just in case your underwear gives up on protecting your decency.

"Thanks," you say, stroking the side of his waist tenderly as he makes way for you and waits for him to get in before you start the car up. You get onto the main road, and make sure you've got your bearings before finally explaining yourself. "It was plausible deniability. The lack of glitter, I mean. Was deliberate."

"What do you mean?" He asks, reaching for the gearstick. Doesn't care if your hand is on it. Wants to hold it. You ignore his actions. Just let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

"I mean, the less glitter on me, the less credibility Jin would have when it comes to arguing that I'm the person who's emptied half a dozen tubes of glitter into his incredibly expensive formal winter coat."

Jeongguk says nothing for a moment. Plays out the idea of you stealthily depositing millions of glitter specks into a jacket that costs more than his yearly rent. Is slow to ask, "...which pockets?"

And you're slow to reply, "... All the ones I could find. Outside, inside. Secret pocket in the lining."

And then Jeongguk is laughing. Really fucking laughing. Looks over to you, and your bunched up little face, and is overcome a sense of pride he usually only feels for these gallery shows, or when a bird of yours is completed. The kinda pride that is reserved for you, and for your accomplishments.

"Shut up," you giggle now, too. "I know it's childish but-"

"No," he shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. "It's brilliant. Dunno if you've heard, but apparently glitter is a bitch to get out."

"Yeah," you grin. "I've been told that a few times."

And suddenly the events of the evening seem to feel less burdensome. Warmer. More pleasant.

You don't bother with small talk, and nor does he. Are just happy to exist together, and this state of ease lasts right up until you're in his apartment, shoes off, standing a little awkwardly in his living room.

Jimin is out. Everyone is. There are a million messages in your group chat asking where you are. You'll just reply in the morning. Too busy, now.

"I need to shower," you say, a little timid.

Jeongguk nods. "Same."

"Join me?"

To your surprise, he hesitates.

"You're the reason I need one in the first place," you remind him. "Please."

He looks down. Shakes his head. "I don't trust us."

"Nor do I," you tell him. "But this whole thing has been hell on earth, Gguk. I've hated it."

"Me too."

"I don't think..." you sigh. Don't want to share your conclusion, but know you need to. "I don't think careless fucking around is worth it. It's definitely not worth losing you."

"So what are you saying?"

Gesturing towards yourself, you grimace a little. "I'm saying we sort out the current... mess. Get showered. Whatever. Head to the pharmacy in the morning for the emergency pill, just in case - and then a few days from now, I'll take an actual test. Just wanna make sure my system is settled, first. And then, providing it all goes well, we sort ourselves out. Stop fucking around."

Jeongguk says nothing. Just sort of looks at you as if you've just hung up a new star in the sky, or something absurd like that. Nods. "Alright."

You're well aware that you shouldn't look at Jeongguk in the way that you do; that you shouldn't stand in his living room, and let the dress that you've been hoping would keep him focused on you all night drop to the floor.

He's well aware that he shouldn't look at you in the way that he does; like you're some kind of star to wish upon.

And yet you both do. He wishes. You grant his wishes.

There's a mess to clean up in the morning. Jeongguk can't shake the look on the faces of his friends from his mind. Knows that you need to cover your tracks.

But for now, he doesn't care.

Your dress is on the floor, and his heart is yours.

Though he'll always define you as his best friend, he knows that the way he wants you goes beyond the scope of that. Knows that there's no going back.

"Byeol," he whispers.

"Koo," you whisper right back.

He smiles. Shakes his head. "I love it when you call me that."

You nod. smile, too. "I love the way you smile when I call you that."

He's right not to trust the pair of you together. Right to assume that a shower is a bad decision. Right to think that the second he has you naked, he won't care about the consequences.

Quite frankly, he couldn't give a fuck. Skin on skin, he indulges in you. The way you feel, the way you sound. Pretends like it's normal, holding your waist as he peppers kisses up your neck. Tells himself it's not unusual for friends to let their hands roam. It's all about trust. Mutual adoration. Desire. Want. Careful carelessness.

You don't kiss him, at least. Not in the shower.

No, you don't kiss him... until you're in his sheets.

Neither of you got dressed after the shower. Went to bed naked with the promise of sleep - and yet somehow you're straddled across his lap at two in the morning, hips slowly grinding to get the feeling of fullness you love so much from Jeongguk.

"After this-" you husk into his lips, but he breaks your sentence with yet another kiss. You don't mind. "After this, we've gotta start taking shit carefully."

He nods. "Mhmm. Whatever you say."

"Gguk-"

"Byeol, please," he smiles. "I'm literally inside you. Can you at least wait until we're done to give me ultimatums?"

Laughing, you cup his jaw. Kiss him again, just because you want to. Because you can. "Yeah. My bad."

Sitting back up, Jeongguk watches on in a state of adoration as your body moves for him. So often the one to take the lead, he's letting you have control, now. Letting you ride him. Letting himself succumb to everything you are.

"Shit," he whines, back arching, head pressing into his pillows. Fingers gripping your hips, he thrashes his own upwards. Thrusts up into you like a man possessed. Gets your body all weak and feeble from the overwhelming pleasure he's delivering - and when your hand dips to toy with your clit? Oh, it doubles. Trebles.

"You're so fucking hot," he tells you. "Yeah. Play with yourself for me. That's it, baby."

Panting, you tap on his chest with your spare hand. "Hips. Slow."

He does what he's told even if he absolutely doesn't want to. Let you bounce slowly. Reaches up to hold one of your tits as you do so. Wants them in his mouth. Finds himself grinning when he thinks of how much he's changed since you first started fucking around together.

"God, I fuckin' love this," he whines a little mindlessly. Doesn't bother clarifying what 'this' is.

The hand of yours that's wrapped around his wrist begins to tighten. Nails dig in. Tiny pretty whines of satisfaction escape your lips. Eyes close. Speed of the hand rubbing circles on your clit increases. Sitting on his cock, he's keeping you stretched. Full. Lets you do whatever the fuck you like, 'cause he knows you're working your way up. Loves to watch it more than anything. Gets himself off sometimes thinking about it.

Leaning forward a little, you reach for his phone. Slide it open to his camera.

He narrows his eyes. "Whatcha doing there?"

Whiney as you manage to speak, Jeongguk thinks you must be a direct descendant of Aphrodite. "Giving you permission," you hum, passing his phone back to him, already recording.

He looks to the screen, a little red button in the middle and a time running through on the top. Raises his brow. "Sure?"

You're putting on a show for him, yes, but none of it is faked. This is as real as it gets.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he husks as he can feel your walls tighten. "Like that. Like that. Fuck ." Pulses his hips ever so slightly. Sneaks his hand to join yours. Takes over. "Cum all over my cock, baby. Yeah. Yeah, that's it, babe."

"Gguk, I'm so close."

"I know," he coos. "Let yourself. I'm here."

"You're so big," you tell him, just so he has evidence of it. Know it will do his ego wonders. "Makes me feel so good."

"Show me how good it feels. Cum for me. Please. I need this. Need you ."

And when you finally do?

Oh, it's glorious.

"There she is," Jeongguk praises. Doesn't bother to stop recording. Tosses his phone to the side. Pulls you in for a million kisses. "God, you're so pretty when you cum. So fuckin' pretty."

His hips continue to gently rock, his orgasm far less violent than yours. You only really know it's happening cause he grunts. Gets a little breathless. Hugs around your back as his legs begin to shake, and eventually he manages to shakily whisper, "it's yours. All yours."

You just assume he means his cock, or cum, or something vulgar like that - and while it would be correct, it's not what he means. Not at all.

He holds you as you sleep that night. Has no interest in pretending like he wants to be less than what you are right now.

But come the morning, you're cracking jokes together like you've never nearly made declarations you'd never be able to take back. Hang out, as if he wouldn't rather eat you out. Make a to-do list. Laugh, as it's titled 'Fixing the Star-Fuckers Fuck-Up'.

You make a trip out of the list. Go to a pharmacy a few towns over. Grab a drive-thru Maccies breakfast. Get absolutely slated when you order a Shanghai Snack Wrap instead of a classic egg McMuffin.

"Can't believe we're friends," Jeongguk says, disgusted by the fact you're choosing to have something from the all-day menu. "Can't believe we fuck ."

"Fucked," you remind him, and remember that you've a pill you need to take. Pop it out of the foil, and swallow it down with a chug of Jeongguk's drink. "Past tense."

"Yeah, sorry," Jeongguk grins. It's easier to pretend like the idea of not fucking doesn't phase him. "My bad."

His pretty grin swiftly disappears three days later as he paces around your apartment living room, waiting on the result from a little pink stick that's sitting on top of your toilet. You're in the living room, too. Don't wanna check it. Nor does he.

So you play rock paper scissors.

Jeongguk loses.

And as you nervously await your fate, all you hear from your bathroom is a single word.

"Fuck."

[syrstab]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SUNSET SPOTTING!

a/n : hi so this isnt my best piece of work, i js felt like i needed 2 post :P (also, im REALLY shit at writing furina + neuvillette, i js wanted to try writing them, sorry if its inaccurate :( +THE BEGINNING IS HARD TO READ LIKE I HATE IT SM ARRRGHHH - i reread this and i found it MAD cringey sooo..

SUMMARY - basically you and furina suggested to neuvillette to go out in public. of course neuvillette was a busy man, but he just has to make time for you. ( also watching the sunset :> )

you and furina were catching up over some tea, as you two rarely saw each other as you were both so busy with work.

“hey furina..”

“yes y/n?” furina looked up, her bright blue eyes meeting yours, taking a sip of her tea

“you, me and my darling neuvillette should go out today.” you say proudly, as if all three of you would go out together. it’s always just been you and furina.

furina giggled when you called neuvillette your 'darling' and took another sip of her tea whilst looking around. “your absolutely obsessed with neuvillette, y/n. I personally find it adorable how you gush over him twenty-four seven , but, i highly doubt all three of us would go out. neuvillette is practically drowning in work…”

you pursed your lips, as if you really thought about it

“just you watch furina, all three of us WILL go out together!” you say with a smug smirk, getting out of your chair.

“y/n, y/n, y/n…” furina sighed putting her tea down and following you.

you proudly walked to neuvillettes office, where of course, he’s doing boring documents and signing papers.

“how’s my gorgeous, cunning, sexy, handsome, beautiful, iconic, courageous boyfriend THE neuvillette doing?” you beam whilst opening the door, furina trailing behind you

“well, hello to you too, y/n.” neuvillette smiles. he knew you were going to ask him for something, as you don’t usually call him those lovey-dovey names. at least, not all together.

“i have a teeny, tiny itzy bitzy request for you.” you grin, furina facepalming knowing damn well this whole 'going out together' thing isn’t going to happen and it’s just going to be you and furina, again.

“go on, my love.” neuvillette stops writing and places his quill down, then interlocking his fingers together like some sort of ceo, i mean he is chief justice of fontaine..

“sooo… i was wondering if you could stop working for an hour or two, to go out in public to clear our minds? we both know how stressed out you’ve been recently.” you furrowed your brows at that last comment, attempting to persuade him to stop working

he purses his lips, glancing at the window in his office “mmm… as much as i want too, i simply cannot. i’m sure furina told you about how much work i’m doing.”

“pretty pleaaaaseeeeee neuuuuuvi?” neuvillette knew you were the type to try to get anyone do anything for you, and the fact you added his adorable nickname you made for him, he REALLY thought about it.

“come on y/n, maybe just us TWO should go out together. let’s LEAVE this poor man alone.” furina says, adjusting her little top hat on her head, attempting to egg you on with the comment she just made

“you’re SO right furina!! we should DEFINITELY go out together, WITHOUT the chief justice of Fontaine!!” you and furina turned around, backs facing neuvillette, arm in arm, smiling at eachother

“have fun, you two. don’t get into too much trouble.” neuvillette waved you and furina off, your mouth agape as neuvi said this. was this man REALLY being serious?

“uggghhhhhhh please neuvi? just for an hour! pretty please with a cherry on top?” you turned around, and at this point you were properly begging for this man, and neuvi took notice of your whiny voice

furina chuckled at how desperate you were for him to go out. neuvillette usually kept himself out of the public eye, unless you dragged him outside.

you grasped neuvillette’s hand, pulling him outside his office. “you can do those shitty documents later, the suns about to set.. and there’s nothing like watching the sunset with my lovely boyfriend!” you gleamed at neuvi, furina leading you outside to the nearest aquabus station she could find.

you found yourself on the aquabus which Aeval was always on, and you, furina and neuvillette stroke up a conversation with her. you weren’t talking about anything specific, just whatever came to mind.

after a while, you came to romaritime harbor. there weren’t many people there, as it was getting late.

“you don’t have to act all tough and regal, neuvi.” you nudged him lightly, as it seemed he was holding a lot of weight on his shoulders, after all, he is a very important man.

“i suppose so. there isn’t many civilians around today..” neuvillette huffed, dropping his shoulders ever so slightly

“awwh, what cuties you two are…” furina giggled to herself as the three of you walked towards the edge of the balcony

the sun was setting behind sumeru’s desert mountains, and everything felt perfect.

you stood in between furina and neuvillette, staring out whilst your head rested on neuvillette’s shoulder. there was a comfortable silence in the air.

“i love you, neuvillette.”

“i love you too, y/n.”

“...aaaaaaand BOOM! you get married to eachother, have kids and live happily ever after.” furina smirked, knowing you’d blush at the thought of getting married to the iudex himself,  neuvillette.

“oh shush, furina.” you waved her off, one hand covering your cheeks as they were painted a rosy pink

“…i would like that.” neuvillette says, looking at the painted sky

“...like what?” you asked, looking up at him

“i would like to get married to you, and have children with you.” neuvi looked down at you, making eye contact

“i would like that, too.” you smiled at him.

“ooooooooooooooh~” furina says in a high pitched voice, leaning forwards

“oh shut up, furina!” you and neuvillette groaned in unison, and once you both realised you said that at the exact same time, you all started laughing together.

[forestshadow-wolf]

dancing and the dreaming by john Powell

That one scene from httyd 2 except it's soap ghost.

Ghost had never wanted to hurt dragons, he'd never thought they were hateful creatures. But then one of them broke into their house, and he feared tue worst for their daughter. But there was a moment, just one, and he realized it wasn't trying to hurt her.

Soap arrived still panicked and filled with adrenaline, he threw his axe at it without a second thought, moving more on instinct than intention. It wasn't his fault, and Ghost would never blame him.

But he knows Soap blames himself for the way the dragon truned tail and ran, but only after scooping Ghost up in its talons.

Surprisingly enough, the dragon didn't take him somewhere remote to eat him. No, it took him to some sort of... sanctuary, a place where the dragons lived. He wanted to go back, he wanted to make the dragon take him back. But then he thought that maybe not all dragons are liek this one, maybe she's safer with Soap on an island of vikings who are willing to do what needs to be done to protect without hesitation. So he stayed.

And years and years later. Nearly 2 decades, and he's saving a young lady from dragon hunters.

It's not until later, when he gets a closer look that he recognizes those heterochromatic blue and umber eyes, and the little beauty mark on the tip of her left ear that he can still remember kissing every night before bed, once upon a time ago.

And then he's gone off to find supper and when he comes back...

Soap. Standing there stock still, just staring at him. And he can't quite tell what it means, can't quite see what's behind the devastation in those eyes. It's been too long since he's seen Soap. Perhaps he'd know what was in those beautiful blue eyes if only he'd been there for all those years.

He looks good. Older, more grizzled, more tired. His beard's grown long, and braided. His hair, longer as well, but still the iconic short sides. And ghost thinks he falls in love all over again. But he left, he was taken and he chose to stay gone. And he's sure that soap must be furious with him. For leaving him alone with their daughter to take care of, and an entire village to run. For staying gone. And he says as much, shouts it.

And soap, ever the gentle soul, forgives him. Forgives him like he never blamed him, like he's never hated him. Like he loves him, like he still loves him.

He's still not sure what to think in the tense, too quiet atmosphere. It used to be so loud and lively, never a quiet moment. Not with soap around, at least. Except now it was.

He's getting water for the stew when he feels soap at his back. Humming a melody he'd long (not) forgotten. An olive branch. A peace offering.

I'll swim and sail on savage seas With ne'er a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me No scorching sun nor freezing cold Will stop me on my journey, sorry If you will promise me your heart

He reaches for it, but he can't find his voice. He feels his gaze on him as it wavers, as soap looks at him for any sign of the past and gets nothing. Won't get anything with Ghost's back to him, he seems to realize it as his head fully sinks under the water.

And love...

And finally Ghost finds that handhold he was looking so desperately for. He throws out a life raft for him.

And love me for eternity My dearest one, my darling dear Your mighty words astound me But I've no need for mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me

And suddenly he's alive, and soap is letting out that beautiful laugh, that he's always loved.

But I would bring you rings of gold I'd even sing you poetry (oh, would you?) And I would keep you from all harm If you would stay beside me

And he can almost physically feel as something he didn't know was broken heals inside of him.

I have no use for rings of gold I care not for your poetry I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me

And suddenly they're both laughing, and dancing. Just like old times, it's like he'd never left. Or maybe it is, but maybe it's okay, maybe it'll be okay.

To love and kiss to sweetly hold For the dancing and the dreaming Through all life's sorrows and delights I'll keep your laugh inside me I'll swim and sail a savage seas With ne'er a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves so life And you will marry me

And all is right with the world. He has his husband and their daughter, and they have him. And they're happy and together and they have the most beautiful laughs that he never wants to not hear.

[f1rewalk3r]

I want to listen to some "car seat headrest" to better understand you and henghost. What do you recommend

well first and foremost i would recommend not doing that. if you’re dead set then i must give you the caveat that much of the CSH discography is about 1) going through a homoerotic breakup 2) being a desperate drunk degenerate college student 3) leaving town or 4) all over the above. if none of these apply to you then you may find that CSH doesn’t quite “click.”

Car Seat Headrest is the internet’s indie darling, started in 2010 by Will Toldeo. It was not his first project, but was his most successful. He released 12 projects on bandcamp (including the now delisted “numbered albums” and their outtakes) before being signed to Matador Records in 2015, releasing 4 albums under their label.

Stylistically, CSH can be a bit all over the place. Although they will always fall under the indie umbrella, they’ve gone from experimental lofi “shitgaze” (shitty shoegaze) to experimental electronic tracks, to 90s inspired garage rock to full on electronica pop. They have a little something for everything!

With that said, there are two available routes for you. the first is to start with one of the most popular albums, then work your way backwards in the discography. Alternatively, you can start at the very beginning, experiencing the growth of the lyricism and production quality.

Of the two, I’d recommend the former option, meaning you should start with Teens of Denial (2016), an album about growing up, being a sad addict, and not knowing your place in the world. your other option is to start with the ultra famous Twin Fantasy (Face to Face) (2018). Often considered Will Toledo’s magnum opus, this album is about being gay, falling in love, being a little too fond of drugs, and ultimately ruining things in your relationship due to your inability to see yourself as human/stop idolizing your partner. I am not responsible for any damage listening to this album may do to your relationship. (this warning comes from anecdotal experience)

Whichever album of these two you pick first, your next step on the listening journey should be the other option. My immediate next pick would be to jump all the way back to Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror ) (2011), the original, shittier(?), lofi version of TF. Do not let its production quality deceive you- this album is just as good as its modern remaster.

You could then go to the Living While Starving EP (2013), as MtM has introduced you to the more lofi sound that is iconic to much of the CSH discography. This EP features some classics like “It’s Only Sex” and “Reuse the Cels.”

From there, you should go to the fandom’s favorite album, How to Leave Town (2014). I don’t think words can describe this album properly. It’s like listening to the audio version of a panic attack. It’s indescribably good.

And if you get that far into the discography, well. I’m afraid it’s too late for you then.

I hope this serves as an insightful entry guide into Car Seat Headrest! Show henghost and maybe he can back up my claims/recommendations. Oh, and if you smoke weed at all, I’d highly recommend choosing to smoke while listening to Twin Fantasy. It truly makes the experience, especially if you smoke too much and spiral out of existence during the track “High to Death.”

[lunarriviera]

another thrilling spirealm update

henlo my friends yes it's that time once again where i tell you what is happening on the bizarrely named drama "the spirealm," i am at episode 25 having shotgunned it all weekend and i have thoughts, opinions, and a gabillion screencaps of ruan nanzhu looking stricken, i finally had to stop taking them because he has the exact same face of devastated yearning in all of them and i was filling up my cloud drive. spoilers ahoy! [parts one and two are here if you even care]

as just mentioned, ruan nanzhu spends his time looking either 1) icily indifferent (when people who aren't qiushi are talking to him and/or dying in front of him, to his vast annoyance) or 2) torn asunder by pangs of desire (whenever he's staring at qiushi, who's babbling obliviously about science or clues or absolutely nothing of any importance whatsoever). here is a representative screencap but he has this look on his face pretty much continually, like he's just been hit by a car. a car of love.

it makes me put my head in my hands and scream quietly, i haven't seen a BL actor who understood the assignment this well since zhang xincheng or maybe even z1l. (who all clearly not only read the novel but underlined it, highlighted it, and stuck in colored post-it notes.) when not busy with adoration, he swans around being magnificent in a frockcoat like he's edward rochester, while lin qiushi trails behind him wearing a fit he got out of the goodwill box in his college dorm.

in spite of being besties with a literal fashion icon, at no point does it ever seem to occur to lingling "hm maybe i should dress a bit more formally for my imminent demise inside the doors"—no, instead he proudly wears his ratty sweatshirt with holes in it. which i sort of think might belong to huang junjie. idk maybe qiushi trusts it, and feels safe in it, hey look at that i made it sad.

massive power couple energy. also notice how their outfits are exact black-and-white negatives of each other, the harper's bazaar wedding photoshoot would have been so goddamn lit.

taking a brief moment for a shoutout to this guy. chen fei i don't even know what your fate will be but i already know you deserved better. not only do you patch everyone up with your veterinary knowledge, but i have seen your unrequited love. it did not go unobserved. you would have been a great partner, you're unimpressed by everything and drink your soy milk with chilling apathy. i'm real sorry the theatre gay didn't love you back. you're too similar i guess.

back to lin qiushi who has the worst case of main character energy since harry freaking potter. somehow the game is about him??? he has trauma??? none of this was in the novel and i'm just pretending it's not happening until it becomes impossible to ignore. in the meantime he continues to sympathize with door ghosts because he's just that nice of a guy. (EXCEPTION: nanzhu literally murdered two competitors bc they threatened his darling, and lin qiushi helped him cover it up. i was appalled for like 5 minutes then i shrugged. it's a cutthroat game, the doors change people. also it's like captain mal used to say: if someone tries to kill you, you kill 'em right back.) i have big Theories about what is fixing to happen but for now i will end by relating that lin qiushi has gone into a door alone, because he wants to butch up and be a better partner for ruan nanzhu. and that would be a great idea and super helpful except that nanzhu IMMEDIATELY WENT OUT OF HIS MIND WITH BLIND TERROR. outwardly of course he gives no signs of this (other than hiring someone to protect his fragile boyfriend, which, if lingling figures this out, ruan nanzhu will be sleeping on the sofa forever).

here he is pushing food around his plate miserably at lingling's funeral pre-solo-door party. everyone is having such a fun time.

and here he is standing in front of the door waiting like a dumb wounded animal. i have a feeling if lin qiushi doesn't emerge at 15 minutes on the dot, nanzhu will simply expire on the spot, like a wolf separated from its mate. maybe that's the end of the spirealm JUST KIDDING, we still haven't gotten to the part where they're on either side of a different door wailing at each other. i really need lin qiushi to stop being such a cheery equanimous little frat boy and START SUFFERING, can we get some mutual pining up in this bitch. (also i need his hair to change in the traditional BL post-wedding hairstyle alteration because i can't remember at this point if huang junjie even HAS a forehead under that vast curtain of bangs)

to sum up, we've had a) sexy handfeeding of lychees b) tender cat fur removal from face and c) stalking your pretty boyfriend aggressively against the wall so you can…offer him a packet of disinfectant. in the novel of course nanzhu bites him and yes xia zhiguang absolutely knows that's what he's supposed to be doing here, we love to see it.

oh and also d) "i'll protect you. i'll protect you forever."

SOON: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION. IT'LL BE SO FUCKING SAD. PS unrelated to any of this but the OST SLAPS and i sing along every time now, that opening song is an unskippable cut scene of a banger

PS gonna be sad when [redacted] dies, he's a real card. and that other person dies too. and that third person. shit it's about to get messy

[crime-wives]

ouat 1x01 thoughts

god regina, you dramatic bitch. “I shall destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do” ok darling, you can destroy me if you’d like

henry is so small, his tiny cheeks awww

not to be gay but… emma swan in the pink dress. fuck. i forgot how attracted to her i was. and the HAIR, the fucking princess curls. jesus christ her ARMS.

“bail bonds-person” i love her

yesss bitch, strut across the street like you own it. absolute icon behavior, slamming that asshole’s face into the steering wheel.

babe you’re so sad and pathetic with your vanilla cupcake. i bet she wished for family.

not her apartment door saying ‘cast a spell’

“My name’s Henry, and i’m your son” agevgsvegw STOP

her having a panic attack in the bathroom, so real.

once again, her ARMS, i want her so bad

henry’s cute little freckles, i can’t do this.

idgaf abt snow and charming “She poisoned an apple because she thought I was prettier than her” shut up bitch, you know that’s not why

“Oh kid, you’ve got problems” emma swan, insulting children since 1983

ok but the fact that they chose the name ‘emma’ in a fairytale world, lmao

evil queen theme song playing as they enter storybrooke

emma swan wearing the most dyke outfit possible. getting ready to impress milfs

not that there’s any significance, but emma’s license plate is: 836•M4X

snow and charming are so annoying istg

ewww the blue fairy, i hate that bitch (derogatory)

regina running towards henry and wrapping him up in a hug. her eyes are wet. good lord, her first reaction is concern and worry, not anger.

“I found my real mom” my HEART. her face after he said that, so stricken and hurt, baby…

emma’s little flustered, ‘hi’ when talking to a gorgeous milf. ok babe, we get it, you’re gay.

graham leaving bc of emma and regina’s immediate sexual tension. and regina’s eyes roving over emma.

first ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at exactly 21:00 minutes.

emma swan is so desperate to impress regina. it’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic (affectionate)

“Sneaky bastard” once again, emma swan insulting children since 1983

crashing into the storybrooke sign like the absolute icon she is

the cgi 💀💀

yay!! curse time :)

emma waking up in a jail cell. she just does not give a fuck about this shit.

her lips parting when she she’s regina, ok babe, she’s hot we get it

LIP SCAR

god mary-margaret pisses me off

go regina, knock over mary-margaret’s shit, absolute queen

“She’s kinda a hardass” yes but that turns you on, doesn’t it?

gina’s so hot when she’s evil

putting a newborn through the wardrobe to save themselves, a+ parenting

henry mills, once again, the most mature one in a situation “You don’t have to be hostile. You like me, I can tell. You’re just pushing me away because I make you feel guilty.”

“I wanted you to have your best chance. But it’s not with me. C’mon, let’s go.” go emma! be the mature adult i know you can be

petition to get emma swan a therapist so she can deal with all her issues (trust me, she’s got a lot of them)

“Look, your mom is trying her best. I know it’s hard, and I know sometimes you think she doesn’t love you, but at least she wants you.” emma swan, standing up for regina mills since the moment they met

mmm regina’s voice is so hot.

her unhinged laughter, i love her so much

“Where are we going?” “Somewhere horrible, absolutely horrible” takes them to maine

emma swan is so fucking desperate for regina’s approval. she wished to not be alone on her birthday, baby…

second ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 38:43 (i will be keeping count of all of them :D)

regina fidgeting with her blazer pockets, she’s so anxious

first “He’s my son” at 39:01 minutes

“I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do” babe, it’s kinda gay to have a nemesis, just saying

third ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 39:32

baby… gina is coming apart at the seems

god, not to be gay, but regina’s HANDS at 40:27 agevvegse

emma’s only staying because of regina’s provocations. she wouldn’t have stayed for henry.

gold is so icky.

she’s staying a *only* a week, sure babe, sure.

also side note, i forgot how good the coloring was in ouat. like its very faded, maybe indicative of storybrooke being stuck in the past???

[funishment-time]

🌠 DANGANRONPA-THEMED CHARITY EVENT FOR TRANS LIFELINE, FAM

From now until the end of 2024, I’m raising money for Trans Lifeline by playing Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony…for the very first time.

And you humans can help with bingo cards (to win prizes).

TOTAL RAISED SO FAR AS OF 1/24: $1006/$2500

>DONATE $5 OR MORE FOR A BINGO CARD<

or learn more about the game by Clicking Through Below!

🌠 About Trans Lifeline:

Trans Lifeline is a grassroots hotline and microgrants 501(c)(3) non-profit organization offering direct emotional and financial support to trans people in crisis – for the trans community, by the trans community.

They also, incidentally, will not contact the cops or emergency services without your consent. Since this is Tumblr, I doubt I need to state the importance of this nonprofit (or that policy).

🌠 About me (Iris Polaris):

I am a polar bear streamer and "VTuber" who specializes in occult, art, and nature content, as well as VNs, sims, RPGs, and survival games, all to learn about you silly primates. Danganronpa is kind-of all of those genres at once. Kind-of.

In the past I've raised about ~$2500 USD across two events. I want to beat that. Just POUND it, y'all. My goal this time around is to raise $2500 USD for Trans Lifeline.

🌠 How to participate:

DONATE. Donate any amount to the Trans Lifeline (minimum $5 USD) here at this event's Tiltify. Leave contact info (an e-mail, Tumblr username, etc) in the comment of the donation or when choosing a reward. NOTE: You must donate thru our Tiltify so I can keep track of the total and contact you.

RECEIVE YOUR CARD. After donating, you will receive a randomized PDF bingo card like this one at your provided e-mail, Tumblr username, etc within 48 hours. Each space on the card represents a prediction I have about v3, a reaction I may have to the characters, etc.

WATCH THE BIWEEKLY-ISH YT VIDEOS. I'll be playing the game offline (i.e. not streamed) with my Manager Bunny. However, every 2-4 weeks, I'll publish a 10 minute or less YouTube video on my account until we finish the game. These videos will be compiled montages of all the spaces participants can mark off that week. These will not be long play videos!

EARN A PRIZE. If you get a bingo, tell me when it happens! Contact me via e-mail (irispolaris.vt@gmail.com), on Twitter (@IrisPolarisEN), on Discord (irispolaris), or here on Tumblr (funishment-time or iris-polaris). All bingo winners get to choose from the prize pool at the end of the event (see below) in order of their wins!

🌠 Prize pool:

For fairness' sake, every bingo winner gets to choose one prize, regardless of how many times they get a bingo. More prizes to be added soon!

DIGITAL PRIZES (UNLIMITED AVAILABLE UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED):

Character-themed phone BG commission: I'll make you a lovely little background for your phone based on existing official art. Examples (1 | 2 | 3).

Character-themed icon commission: I'll make you a lovely little 500x500 icon based on existing official art. Examples (1 | 2 | 3).

250-word general tarot reading: I'll pull a single card for you and give you an overview of what's to come. Here's an example.

Short astrological (zodiac) birthchart: I'll give you a short astrological birthchart that includes your Sun, Moon, and Rising signs. You must provide me your date of birth and location of birth, so don't choose this if you're not comfortable with that! Here's an example.

Bust-up sketch commission by Tane Aspen: 10 available. The wonderful Tane has donated art commissions to the cause! Here's an album of examples.

Bust-up sketch commission by YogurtFluff: 1 available. Darling YogurtFluff (aka Gracie) has donated another art commission to the cause! Here's examples of their art.

Twitch panel set commission by Jar of Rubies Art aka Zenith: 1 available. Are you a streamy streamer? Zenith, who made my own personal Twitch panels and overlays, has donated a commission for a set herself! Here's examples of her work.

Pixel art commission by @🌸 🌿 Faerieko. 1 available. Commission a chibi pixel bust from my dear Mama Faerieko! See a cute EXAMPLE.

PHYSICAL PRIZES (SHIPPING ADDRESS REQUIRED):

Iris-themed sticker set: 5 sets available. Three different ~"3 stickers by Studio Nekomata featuring yours truly.

Fortune-telling Bear patch: 2 available. A ~3" sew-on patch by Studio Nekomata featuring yours truly.

Iris-themed RPG charm: 2 available. A double-sided RPG-inspired charm by Studio Nekomata featuring yours truly.

Fortune-telling Bear charm: 5 available. A ~3" charm of yours truly, readin' the future and all that, with art by @faerieko.

1.5" Kaede & Shuichi buttons by MachineDean: 3 sets of 2 buttons available. Your delightful totally alive protagonists in adorable button form. (Pic)

DR v3-themed stickers by other folks. 2 available of each sticker. Choose three from these designs (album link - better/bigger images coming ASAP).

Please note that the presence of prizes from independent creators does NOT imply that they condone this event. Or even know about it. So don't ask them about stuff.

Donations to the prize pool are welcome, but not necessary. Please contact at me at irispolaris.vt@gmail.com or here on Tumblr (funishment-time or iris-polaris) if you have a piece of merch or service (commissions, graphic design etc) you want to give.

🌠 Goal incentives:

MONODAM LEVEL: $100 raised. Art sketch request stream. Monodam turns me into a sketch robot for a stream. Beep boop bitch. ☑️ ACHIEVED AS OF 9/8, STREAM HELD 11/28

MONOPHANIE LEVEL: $500 raised. Giveaway. Detective Duo poster by Cheer puppy. Monophanie woke up in a good mood, so she's giving away a 16" by 20" poster of our favorite v3 protagonists...or, well, I guess, the only v3 protagonists. (This item will be given away on stream, date TBD.) ☑️ ACHIEVED AS OF 9/9

MONOKID LEVEL: $1000 raised. Danganronpa WWE content. I use whatever wrestling game I can pirate find and custom-make Danganronpa characters y'all vote on. Then we fight 'em. Offline-recorded video series. HOO YEAH!

MONOSUKE LEVEL: $1500 raised. Giveaway. DR1 Steam game key. Monosuke knows the best way to bring in business is to give people stuff. Any kind of stuff. DR1 isn't the game he's in, but like, does it matter? It's free! (This item will be given away on stream, date TBD.)

MONOTARO LEVEL: $2000 raised. Return of the hot sauce stream. Like Monotaro, I'm forgetful. Specifically, I've forgotten how much my previous hot sauce stream hurt me on my birthday. So we're going at it again, new sauces, new pain, date TBD.

MONOKUMA LEVEL: $2500+ raised. 12 hour marathon Summer Camp stream. Fulfill my goal of being the Ultimate Fundraiser and I'll sit and play Danganronpa S Ultimate Summer Camp for 12 hours nonstop. And do all the voices. Puhuhu...huhuhu. (Date TBD.)

MASTERMIND LEVEL: $3000+ raised. Every winner gets an additional prize. Peasants! We have been waiting for oh-so-long! Knock things out of the park and every bingo winner gets to choose an additional prize...and a sample of my famous home cooking! (Home cooking not included.)

🌠 Important dates:

DONATIONS ACCEPTED BEGINNING: August 21st, 2023

VIDEOS/EVENT BEGINS: Sept 9, 2023

VIDEOS/EVENT ENDS: When we're done with the game. Probably no later than December or January. Or maybe much sooner. This is going to take a while, actually. But we'll post about it everywhere (here, Twitter, etc), don't worry.

DONATIONS ACCEPTED UNTIL: The event ends. See above. You can get a bingo card up until our last video, which will be announced well in advance (here, Twitter, etc). Note, however, you'll be at a slight disadvantage to choose a prize, as bingo winners get to choose in order of their wins.

🌠 Important links:

Trans Lifeline's website

Our fundraiser Tiltify (donate here! Remember: leave contact info!)

My YouTube channel (the bingo videos go here!)

My Discord, or my Twitter, or my Tumblrs (1 | 2), for updates

🌠 FAQ:

Where can I donate? Via our Tiltify! Include contact info in the comment of your donation if you want a bingo card.

Where can I find updates? You can find updates here on funishment-time or iris-polaris, on my YouTube, on my Twitter, or on my Discord.

Do any donations touch your wallet? Nope. All proceeds go directly to Trans Lifeline via Tiltify. I don't get a cent of it, not even for a second.

Do I have to donate via Tiltify to participate? Yes, sorry. This is the only way I can easily keep track. However, Tiltify accepts any form of currency IIRC.

Can I get a bingo card for a friend? Yes, but you must donate twice (or more), even if it means donating $5 USD each time. I will issue you two (or more) cards, and you can give them out as you wish.

Can I donate without participating in the bingo? Totes. Just ignore all the bingo stuff if you want. But you won't get any cool prizes!

What if, on the bingo card, I see a prediction that I know is true? If, for example, Miu survives the game and you know it, don't mark the space until I get to that point in the game. This means that you do not get a bingo until I get to that point in the game. (Example: if you need the "Miu survives" space to get a bingo, it's not a bingo until I get there. I tried to balance this out by providing spaces about the way I play the game, too.)

Is this really your first time playing v3? Yes. I know like two spoilers (the killer and victim of trial 1, for example) and I understand the characters' personalities from Summer Camp, but I've never played the game.

Isn't it a little weird to play a killing game...game for Trans Lifeline? Yeah, but like, the fandom is super queer anyway so why not.

Are you trans? Sort-of. Queer/genderweird, definitely. Any pronouns are fine. I like to think of my gender as..."bear."

🌠 BINGO VIDEOS SO FAR:

Week 1 (9/8): 5 spaces

Week 2 (9/21): 6 spaces

Week 3 (10/12): 4 spaces

Week 4 (11/12): 2 spaces

Week 5 (1/24): 3 spaces

✨ Thank you for spreading the word...or for participating! ✨

[gctchell]

#red is the og. the VIP#one of the safest people I've ever met#spectacular writing and I've the privilege of being able to see the incredible progression#from the day we met to present day.#it's a while! and writing like hers is unforgettable. her Lilith and Niffty are delights#and she's taken what I liked about those two and intensified my love for them#only red can pile on reasons for me to love characters especially ones she takes on#an excitable writer and one of the best people u can meet. even if we're in hell.#and her improv???? I know I can count on her to roll with the punches. -- @jizzlords

#ive known red for some time even WAAAY before HH and they’re a wonderful person#great to communicate with and very loving and kind and open minded#wonderful writer to boot on top of all of that -- @therealricksanchezpleasestandup

i just signed on to the sweetest tags from some of the oldest mutuals i've had across my accounts. what the hell, yall. my darlings..

@jizzlords is wearing ozzie's skin. I mean that in the most complimentary way ever, because hel just pulls that man off with such ease it's like they're sharing the same body and he's just conducting the keyboard, taking down his autobiography online. the voice is crystal clear, you can hear iglehart in everything hel writes - down to the laughter.

hel loves this man and it is clear to see. the love for that muse is in there and the justice is being delivered right to the key. absolutely astounding portrayal, and hel even dives into ozzie being a fallen angel, and still having trauma from all that mess. hel gives him flaws, gives him green flags, brings him to life and makes him the icon of desire that he needs to be. I'm not surprised, though - hel's always knocked it clean out of the park when it comes to glamorous and iconic characters, bc hel is iconic. and just all-together so much fun to hang out with.

also, pssst: hel's writing is absolutely flipping beautiful. I've been lucky to be traveling alongside him for a long time now and watch it bounce from the characters he loves so dearly to the next. he's just gotten better, and he was already great.

@therealricksanchezpleasestandup is rick sanchez. I am not kidding lmao. you go onto that blog and it reads like rick. I've been a mutual of steffu's for.. god, a good few years, now? not even including the time on this account? and I have just watched her kick absolute ASS with this man. it's just like asmodeus and hel, it's another case of 'I think that man just lives in your skin and you're writing everything he tells you to', because damn. excellent portrayal, excellent handling, excellent managing of this man and his emotions, and just how messed up he is.

yeah, rick is a mess and steffu knows exactly how to write that while also making it so abundantly clear why and how it is that he has so many amicable relationships all over the multiverse. man knows how to juggle his personality traits and get those connections, find companionship in others that his family doesn't quite get to see that often - outside of morty. I always thought that was a pretty damn cool thing for her to cover.

because he's a universe jumper, it makes all the sense in the world that he has connects to others down here in hell. easy character to plug in with if you like rick and morty and want a rick to interact with. steffu has the man on lock, I am telling you.

[jayzissleppy]

sweet over spicy

You're my water when I'm stuck in the desert You're the Tylenol I take when my head hurts.. inspired by best part - Daniel Ceasar

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🫧 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

includes ; established relationship, non idol au, fluff overload, seongwha is head over heels for reader pet names: love, darling (nothing bad to be worried about just a cute fluff) 😵‍💫

a/n ; i wrote this on impulse at 3AM so please be nice to me on this one, this is also my first time publishing my work !

words: ___

summary: you'd choose sweet over spicy anyday, you couldnt handle spicy food or spicy interactions, and sweet was just your favourite oh, and how your boyfriend seongwha was just that...

"love? i brought you some fruit." the study doors opened and the room was now filled with the scent of fresh fruit and your boyfriends voice.

"thank you seongie, you didn't have to." you say looking up at him feeling guilty.

"i thought you might need some, you've been in here for 4 hours now, don't you want to take a break?" you lightly chuckle.

"i don't know, i mean im almost done with writing my draft for this week"

you thought that being an author would been easy since it was something you always wanted to do, theres some days where your cooped up in the study and some days where you dont write for nearly a week. sometimes writing a romance novel is worse than an action novel, the plotline, character development, everything its too much, and seonghwa notices that.

"y/n, thats why its called weekly drafts. you're supposed to finish it in a week, not a day. your overworking yourself, just please lets take a break?" seonghwa says tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

i mean an hour break wouldn't hurt right? you think to yourself as you push up of your chair to stand.

"just for a little bit okay?" you say while seonghwa smiles. "but not anything tiring love."

seongwha takes your hand and pulls you out the study and hands you your favourite hoodie and earmuffs.

"does a midnight stroll sound good?' he asks.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🫧 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

walking hand in hand around han river, is most definitely the break you needed. the sound of crickets and the leaves blowing, it was relaxing.

"should we make a stop at a convenience store?" seongwha said swinging arms as you held hands. "hmm? i think i could do with something to drink" you smiled.

at the convenience store you and seongwha bought your ultimate favourite childhood drink, ramune.

bleggh.. "i dont remember it tasting like this you" said laughing. seongwha pulled his face as he drunk from the bottle.. "i think they.. cough .. changed the recipe" you both burst out in laughter. the laughter continued as seonghwa had hiccups and could barely speak a sentence without being cut off "should we.. hiccup.. get some rice crack..hiccup..-ers?"

you were almost on the floor in tears. upon leaving the store you noticed that there was a claw machine outside that had hello kitty and dear daniel, the most iconic sanrio couple other than kurmoi and badtz maru. you decided to quickly pull out some coins and try to win the plushies.

"should i help you darling?" seongwha said coming up behind you and placing his hand on yours. his hands were cold, but you didnt hate it. he used his hand to guide yours to the bag that hello kitty and daniel were inside, and within seconds the coldness of his hands filled yours with warmth. in that exact moment you though over and over again about how much you love seongwha. looking back at the time you first met, it truly was not a coincidence.

you were walking down the busy street of gangnam to get to your book signing event when you accidentally bumped into someone. your ipod played fell to the floor and so did his. you apologised to him and picked up your ipod before beginning to rush again. " excuse me, you have my ipod !" he shouted. you turned around and ran back to him to trade your ipods and laugh at how your both listening to the same song. "i see you like daniel ceasar too" he laughed. you smiled before beginning " i really have to run, but im really sorry about bumping into you, i hope the rest of your day is better" you said getting further away from him.

"but this just made my day the best" he whispered under his breath watching as you disappeared through the crowd, and luckily enough you ran into each other again.

you were taking a bus to gimpo airport in seoul when you sat down in front of him him. he watched over your shoulders as you looked for a song to listen too.

"i suggest best part by daniel ceaser" he said trying his hardest not to look like a creep. you immediately smiled when you saw his face and the ipod in his hands. he was hard not to forget, little studio ghibli stickers on it. "you have nice music taste" you replied putting the song on still smiling. "where are going with a suitcase?" he asked. "oh im leaving to japan for a few days for my book signing event."

"what books have you written, i might have one" he said showing the tote bag he had with him. "well i've written quite a few.." as you go on about the names of the books you've written you watch how his face lights up. "your her? the y/n?" he says shocked. you smile a little embarrassed. "im headed to the airport to get my book signed by you, because i was to late the last time." he said pulling one of your books out.

wow, to think that he would be a fan of yours is unbelievable i mean, he looks sweet, nice hair, gorgeous eyes... as you continued to think about every feature of his you realised just how pretty he was. to call him pretty was even an understatement.

"well i wouldnt mind signing one now.." you smiled lightly.

"actually.. could you also .. um.. could i have your number. not like a fan but i'd really like to get to know you sometime or take you out to dinner." he said getting embarrased and avoiding eye contact.

"id love that."

while in japan you and seongwha texted for hours, sharing the same timezone made it easy as well. and when you got back from japan he picked you up from the airport and took you to that promised dinner date. you talked throughout all the seasons, summer, autumn, winter and spring. the only thing that did change between those seasons were your feelings for eachother and the next thing you knew it was winter 2022 and seongwha and you were outside walking in the snow, planing to go ice skating, when he took your hand in his and spoke, "y/n its cold right?, but im not cold at all, my hands may be cold and so could my face, but my heart is warm and thats because of you. you've made every season have a new meaning behind it, summer used to just be 'summer', but now summer is when i spend my days at parks with you, reading, having a small picnic and when i least expected it. you were apart of more than just seasons, you invaded my everyday life. id walk past a flower shop and notice tulips and buy them out of impulse because they reminded me of you. i'd think of things that reminded me of you, till you were all i thought about. i loved the way your voice echoed through the back of my mind when i missed you most, or when i still felt the lingering kiss you left last winter as an 'accident'. well, if this is an accident i apologise but y/n, i love you, everything about you, would you allow me to be yours?" you would cry if you could, but you were afraid of your tears freezing. "seongie..i'd love that.. i love you" you say sniffiling the tears back. he placed his cold hands on your cheek pulling you in for a loving kiss. "thats not an accident right?" he said. you laughed "no.." and all of a sudden the coldness in his hands turned to warm.

"love?" he called out to you, waking you up from daydreaming. "i got the plushies" he said smiling and holding out the bag to you. you kissed his cheek "thank you seongie, you're too sweet !" you took the bag from him, as well as took his hand yet again. "lets go back?" he hummed a response.

while walking back seongwha suggested you sat down at a bench for a bit.

"y/n love, remember this?" he said pulling out his airpods and putting one in your ear as the melody finally hit you.

'I just wanna see I just wanna see how beautiful you are You know that I see it I know you're a star Where you go I follow No matter how far If life is a movie Oh you're the best part'

you smiled as you turned to face seongwha, stars from the sky reflecting in his eyes. seongwha softly sang along while intertwining his fingers with yours. "what should we have for dinner, sweet tteokbokie or spicy?" you looked at him intently, before leaning over and giving him a soft kiss.

"sweet, id choose sweet anyday"

end note: hihi ^^ i finished this quickly so i could focus on school so im sorry if this is a bit rushed, but i hope you enjoy! please dont forget to reblog to help me get more recognition as im a new! you may leave kind criticism !

[asmodeus-fallen-principality]

((Information about Asmodeus!))

Name: Asmodeus

Nicknames/Aliases: A.S. Morris. Samael calls him “Mo”, which is fine, or “Momo”, which he hates, it’s so undignified-

Age/Date of Birth/Place of Birth: Older than time/Before time began/Heaven

Species: Demon/Fallen Angel

Gender/Pronouns: Technically agender, fine with corporation being seen as “male”, he/him

Sexuality: Technically asexual, sex-positive, pan…something (he’s. Experimented. With various humans of various genders.) (But, really, they were all stand-ins for a certain someone.)

Appearance: Asmodeus looks much like Aziraphale does, except with straight, white, combed-back hair rather than blond curls. His eyes are black and look human, but he always wears gloves to cover up patches of white snakeskin on the back of his hands and up his arms. Has quite heavy under-eye eyeliner tattooed on (it came with his corporation, he can’t get rid of it). Wouldn’t be caught dead in anything other than black. Blatantly refuses to wear anything more modern than 19th century attire (think Laszlo Cravensworth, but with zero rhinestones). All the emo kids in London see him as an icon.

Personality/History: A fussy demon. Rather quiet, gothic, and always looks sad and distant, though he’d tell you “I can’t help how my face looks”. Basically, Aziraphale with clinical depression instead of clinical anxiety. Eternally tired. Relieved to be anywhere but Hell. Owns an antique museum/restoration workshop, incredibly minimalist and sparse, with rather clinical glass displays for the most delicate pieces. Intimidates said antiques into staying in one piece with an incredibly cold demeanor. Secretly sends donations to keep all the second-hand bookstores running. Files reports so meticulously and perfectly that Hell is suspicious about them (most reports are scribbled on the back of a bit of cardboard). Looks like he desperately needs a cup of tea, or a hug, at all times. He didn’t mean to Fall. He just… stumbled down the wrong staircase.

His first assignment from Hell was to tempt the first humans into sin, but he didn’t want to damn them like he had been damned, so he curled up in the first tree he found and went to sleep. Eve befriended him, and asked if the apples were his. He said no, and there was no sign…well, he took credit for it in his report, but it was an unfortunate situation. Those humans didn’t deserve to be kicked out, surely. Unless that was part of the plan all along…?

Anyway, that poor angel (the starmaker he’d once admired so!) was very upset by it; and it wasn’t very demonic of Asmodeus to comfort him, but you try looking at Samael’s sad little face and ignoring it. Still, he’d best leave it at that. It wouldn't do for a demon like him to get into the habit of hanging around an angel.

Asmodeus proceeded to get into the habit of hanging around an angel. Well, it wasn’t his fault that Samael kept appearing, and Asmodeus did try to warn him that it would get him into trouble. But you try telling such a sweet, darling creature to go away; it didn’t bear thinking about. Maybe things would be alright as long as nobody found out. It’s not as if his one-time-crush was going to turn into him falling deeply in love over the millennia or anything- oh, fuck. Excerpt from my Bad Proverbs master document, originating from April 2022! I'm very excited to finally do something with my Reverse Omens AU!