#we gotta focus then we can do those things

[vulpixisananimal]

Looping again and again...

(You breath in, and out.)

(You're exhausted. You feel even more sick than last time. Your eyes are puffy, and theres a weight on your chest.)

(You breath in, and out.)

(Just, just focus. Just focus. None of that happened, not really. It was all in another timeline, you didn't hurt him, and you aren't selfish. You... You...)

("I should never have trusted you.")

(. . .)

(You trust them. But they don't trust you. If they don't trust you, why do you keep talking to them.)

(Because it's. . . Because I promised.)

(You promised to protect Bonnie too.)

(Your breath catches.)

(Are you sure they believe you, or like you, or trust you? Can you be sure? You have a power that they cannot comprehend. Every day could be perfectly scripted by you.)

(I. . . I don't know.)

(Do you think Isabeau trusts you.)

(I. . .)

"You alright, Sif?"

(Oh stars, right. You breath in, and out.)

"Never better, Isa!" (You said, your words ringing hollow.)

"Well, if you need a hand or, or if I need to get you anything, just let me know okay?"

(Same as last time. You are looping again, after all. You look at yourself in the mirror. Could it get worse..?)

(You step out of the bathroom.)

"Sif! Are you sure you're alright?" (He leaned down to your level, just as worried as before.) "I was about to get out of bed and I heard you, uh-"

"I'm fine Isabeau--" >> "--Just some loopy stuff, not that bad, I'll meet you for breakfast!"

(. . . Should you be zoning out? Things are differen't now, you're not in Dormont after all.)

(It wont hurt them.)

(You're back downstairs, Mirabelle and Bonnie off doing whatever it was they do in the morning. The quesadillas looked good like last time. Hmm, you could change a few things up here at least.)

"You sure you're alright? Can't go investigating when your sick."

"I've gone through worse." (You say cheekily.)

"That's not a good thing though!" (Isa exlaimed.) "You were sick for weeks after all those loops!"

"Still hard to believe." (Nille commented, leaning back.) "Even I know you're not s'possed to be able to craft time."

"Well I didn't think wishes were so..."

"Dangerous?" (You say.)

"Well, yeah." (Isa's vision wandered, thinking.) ". . . Do you think that's why you're sick again?"

(Huh.)

(Odile looked up from her book.) "That could be it. Perhaps that wish is still allowing Siffrin to loop back, but requires more of his own energy."

"So it's, craft exhaustion?" (That would make sense, and explain why each time you looped you were feeling worse.)

"Alright eat up then 'Frin." (Nille said, leaning over to give you a second quesadilla.) "Gotta get your energy back."

(You shrink down into your cloak.) "I'll be fine, you don't, need, to."

"Come on Sif!" (Now Isa was handing you more food.) "Craft exhaustion 101! Eat! Your! Food!"

(Oh stars. . .)

(Defeated, you start to eat up. It WAS good food, Bonnie always made good food. And you WERE hungry. Plus, you might need the energy to loop again. And if you do that, then you wouldn't have taken their food.)

(Mirabelle and Bonnie join the rest of you, the air is a bit warmer than last time. Bonnie threatened to go back and make you even more food once they found out you had craft exhaustion. But for now, it's about time to explain things again.)

(You're going to? You still trust them?)

(. . . If we don't, it could be worse. We didn't ask for help before, and it was worse.)

"Isa, did you know someone called Ramos in the Defenders?"

"Huh?" (Isa thought for a moment.) "I didn't. . . Oh! Well I knew someone who's second name was that, why?"

"Taller? Wears a vest and kerchif? Short hair?"

(Isa shook his head.) "No, but I remember they asked me about some clothes like that... Wait did you-"

(You smile smugly.) "You must have had quite the impact, they look totaly different when we met them later today."

"You looped again!?!?--" >> "--I'll look for one of those next time."

(Where to start this time.)

"This will be try number three of today, First time me and Odile went to the library and the rest of you to the Defenders place, Bonnie came running to us, aparently Mira was framed for kidnapping Bonnie."

"!?!?!?--" >> "--There must have been some kind of mistake!"

"And that's why we went there last time." (You hesitate) "We all did, met Ramos at the enterance, started leading us to someone who'd help. Mira, Bonnie and Nilla ran off because of..."

(. . . Roses.)

"Huh?!?"

"Beacuse Bonnie smelled mint and thought someone's roses were in trouble?"

"It makes more sense at the moment I promise!"

"Well there was someone who kept roses." (Isa pondered.) "But he was never the type to get mints in his rosebeds."

"Well aparently Bonnie smelled mint, so."

"Was it like the sugar?" (Bonnie asked.) "Like, is it a craft thing?"

(You blink, oh.) "Well, uh, I did smell a lot of something."

(Bonnie hopped away from the tapple and ran back to the kitchen. Before coming back with a bit of a plant and held it up to you.) "Smell."

(You take a sniff, the same smell.) ". . . Is that mint?"

"Duh." (They said smugly.) "No it's cumin, obviously. Crabface."

"Language."

(You all have a bit of a chuckle. Bonnie going to put the mint back. Odile prompted you to continue.)

"Right..." (You shift a bit in your seat, oh boy.) "Well... Isa, did you get any help on your Defender quiz? Did Ramos help you?"

"Huh? No I didn't," (he looked confused.) "I did worry about it a bunch, but Ramos was having it harder, if anything I helped them."

(You nod.) "While we were walking you said the oposite, you knew eachother for a while, it all seemed... Wrong."

(You paused, thinking. Odile noticed.) "Everything alright, Siffrin?"

(You bite your lip. You, didn't want to talk about what happens next.) "Well. . . You and I got suspicious, confronted Ramos, you grabbed them and then started being weird, and uh, well, I stepped in and, well, they were wearing the star pendant."

"!!!"

"Gems alive."

"Oh Ramos.." (Isabeau pouted.) "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

(You snapped to attention, huh? What?) "I-I, n-no they, uh, no they didn't." (If anything, it was the other way around...)

"Well... If you want to talk about it."

(You shrug.)

". . . Well what's the plan today then boss." (Nille asked, looking over she was leaning on the table so relaxed.) "Since you know the future and all."

(Boss?) "Well, I doubt this'll be the last loop, but this time we should go looking for information on what craft links to mint, if any."

"Good idea Siffrin!" (Mirabelle perked up, uhoh, she had a look in her eyes.) "Me, Odile and Isabeau will go looking for that while YOU stay here and relax!!"

"Huh?!?!"

"Agreed." (Odile was giving you a look.) "We can't have our ace in the hole burning himself out."

"That'll leave you two in charge of Siffrin then, think you can handle it?" (Isa said to Nille and Bonnie.)

(Nille gave a thumbs up) "Leave it to the sibling squad."

"Yeah!! I'm gonna make you hot chocolate too!!"

"What. Wait. But, b-but."

(You didn't know how to respond, what was going on, you were just, just explaining what happened. It was just going to be another go around. Go look for info on mint, then, then...) "Wh, why?!?"

"Because you need!! A!! Beak!!" (Mirabelle had gotten up) "You've had to do the same day twice now and each time it was really unplesant!! And if today doesn't really happen for us, then we can do a bit extra! The other us's wont remember."

"Exactly." (Odile closed her book.) "If today doesn't matter then we can be a bit risky, and you can relax a bit more. It might help you feel better for next loop."

(You tried hiding in your cloak, a hard thing to do without a hat.) "But, you just, trust me on that?"

"Of course!" (Isabeau said, cheery.) "Why wouldn't we? I'll always trust you, Sif, because you could have done a lot of bad with being able to loop, and you didn't!" (You wince at that, Isa huffed.) "Yes, even that moment we had. I told you, it's alright."

(. . .)

(They do have a point. You, never really got a break back then either. Sure you had moments, but...)

"Ok, If you're sure..."

[stelladess]

On power creep, card games (mostly as an example) and gacha. Also how to prioritize what characters/cards to try and get. Kinda felt the discussion around power creep in the context of gacha is often kind of... incendiary and not very helpful, we are all here to have a good time.

So, this was mostly some stuff I have been thinking about in relation to Arknights, because I do not play Star Rail as seriously and play no other gachas then those two. I have played the yu-gi-oh card game since I was a little kid (some of my earliest memories is learning the game from my brothers or playing Kaiba the revenge on PC) so I am coming at this from a primarily TCG perspective and with the prior background of "has played game which has been made unrecognizable by power creep, and still loved playing it." So obviously, this already predisposes me to not see power creep as the biggest deal.

So... first of all, the incentives that causes power creep! Well this is pretty straightforward, the way a trading card game or a gacha makes money is by making you want to spend money on new cards/characters. You also need to have a solid team or deck as a whole, usually you cannot just brute force your way on a single powerful card or character. As a result to prevent players from just getting one strong team/deck and then never updating again is why we end up with power creep, since the option of just outright banning cards tends to piss people off even more and is straight up not a thing they do in gacha games. As a result, since players will usually not want to spend money/pulls on a character who will not improve their team/deck, especially when its so often chance based what you even get, it means that to make people keep pulling packs you gotta upgrade the power over time of new units. Generally the developers want to keep this at a slower pace, since it feels bad if someone gets a great character/card and then one month later they are weak, and if people feel like what they put in do not pay off they will not keep playing. But occasionally there are bigger bursts of power creep to kind of bring the state of the game to a new level, often brought on by accidentally making something too strong, at least that is how I think this goes from my experience. But for example, if when Typhon came out her damage was worse or just on par with Rosa, how many would have pulled for her? Sure you´d get some who would because they like her story, personality, design, etc. But not that many would have if we are being completely honest here.

This is not to say that power creep cannot be a problem, especially if too severe, as already touched on earlier it feels really bad when your favorites no longer hold up. I just want to highlight that it is an inherent part of the game that cannot really be avoided. It can also add a big pressure to feel like you have to keep up by getting all the new characters or cards, which can cause a lot of stress due to the random nature of who you get. Which is where the other thing I wanted to talk about comes in....

You do not need every strong or limited character. And in fact you wont use most of them because you have finite team space. In a trading card game you focus in on a playstyle you like, or a few if its affordable enough, and then focus on building and enhancing those instead of getting every good card in the game. I think this is the healthiest way to view it in a gacha too. Prioritize who suits your playstyle and your team, or to fill weak spots you got (or you just like as a character of course). You do not need all the top tier characters in the game. You can skip multiple top tier characters in fact and still do just fine, these games are not balanced around the assumption you have *every* single one of the best characters or cards. And in fact, having to slowly make adjustments to better suit your needs is, to me at least, one of the most fun parts. And a lot of the strategy and fun of these kinds of games disappear if you have access to all the strongest options and can just brute force things. It is not healthy for your mental state to fret over having to have all the best options and it makes the game less fun, to me at least. These games assume you only have maybe half of the top tier options, and you can beat pretty much everything with that if you put some effort into strategizing, which is fun~!

[moonlightpirate]

Okay brain we are over halfway done with this essay if we can at minimum finish getting it typed we will be good to go we can deal with citations and editing tomorrow if necessary we just gotta type it up

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[keeps-ache]

got the piano set up so my brother and i have discovered we have the ability to make the Dreariest tunes ~+~anytime~+~ :3

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[eilidh-eternal]

Captain Price smut? Yeahhhh, Captain Price smut.

Real estate agent reader who’s showing John Price flats in London, but the only thing he cares about are all the surfaces he can fuck you on.

18+ MDNI | f!reader | d/s dynamics | praise kink | oral f-receiving | unprotected P i V | creampie |

“This unit is just under 100 square meters, but it has the open floor plan you requested, and the kitchen has recently been remodeled; all new cabinetry, appliances and gorgeous Calcutta marble countertops. It’s an entertainers dream.”

John won’t be doing much entertaining but he thinks you’re an exquisite show spread out on those countertops you love so much, skirt hiked up around your hips and lacy thong between his teeth as he nips and teases the sensitive juncture of your hip and thigh. The scrape of his beard against your thighs only causes you to spread them wider for him, already burning, and before you can protest—complain that you’d just bought those—he’s tearing the flimsy lace from your body and growling at the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Christ sweetheart, just look at ya. Been drippin’ since we walked through the door.”

The first card of his tongue through your folds is long and languid, and the way he moans at the first taste of you is something purely primal, born of raw desire and burning need. Hands made rough by years of hard work snake beneath your thighs, seeking purchase at your hips to knead at their plush and soft skin. He pins them to the counter when he dips into your entrance and you clench around him, a moan of his own echoing yours, vibrating against the throbbing bundle of nerves pressed against his nose.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle what would have been a scream when he takes your puffy clit between his teeth, flicks the tip of his tongue over it until your thighs are quivering against him. You could scream when he pulls away from you, leaves you dangling from that razor thin edge to pull himself up, to brace his arms on either side of your head and pull your hand away from your face.

“No more of that, doll. Need t’ hear ya. Gotta know how thin these walls are. Don’t want any neighbors reporting us for violating the noise ordinance.” With his orders given he returns to his position between your thighs, not wasting a moment as he hooks his arms under you and drags you to the very edge of the counter to throw your legs over his shoulders and continue with his meal.

You grip the edge of the counter with such force you worry it might crack, that it might crumble in your hands just as you are in his. Every searing pass of his tongue, nip of his teeth and bristle of his beard coaxes you back towards that ledge, and every moan and gasp you give him is rewarded with a growl that reverberates from his chest and straight to your clit, sending hot sparks of pleasure licking on your arching spine.

Watching you unravel before him is John’s second favorite part of the tour, tasting your spilled essence as you writhe and clamp your thighs around his head when you cum on his tongue. Second only to the way you feel wrapped around him, the way your brows slope upwards and your mouth makes that perfect little ‘o’ when he sheathes himself to the hilt inside you.

“F-fuck, ‘s too much… I can’t-”

“You can,” he grunts with a pointed thrust, and you whine at the fullness, the stretch of his thick cock and the press of the flared tip against your cervix. “You can take it, honey. Just keep those pretty eyes on me yeah?” You focus on his face, concentrate on the lines between his brows. “Good girl.”

He sets a steady pace, one hand pressing your knee up beside your face and with the other he braces himself on the counter, bent over you to watch your eyes flutter with every drag of his cock in and out of you.

“Fuck sweetheart… ya feel fuckin’ perfect. ‘S like you were made for my cock.” It’s too much, too intense staring up into the swirling depths of ocean blue eyes when he says things like that, and you look away before you drown in them and all of his pretty words.

But John is like a rip tide; calm and collected on the surface, but swift and brutal below. He halts his movements abruptly, grips your face, thumb and forefinger pressing into your cheeks, and forces your gaze back to his. “Did I say you could look away?” A beat of silence and he cocks an impatient brow.

“No…” you squeak.

“What were my instructions?”

“Eyes on you.” It’s less whiny but it still comes out small and breathy.

“That’s right, eyes on me. Gotta be able to see ya so I can take care of ya. Gotta know it feels good, that I’m not hurtin’ ya. Understand?” You nod weakly, but his brows remain furrowed, mouth set in a hard line, and he doesn’t move.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he hums in approval and removes his hand from your face, drags it down the length of your body as his hips begin to roll forward again, following the valley of your breasts down to your navel, your messily bunched up skirt, and presses his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles around it. It doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm again, faster this time, each stroke pushing him further and further towards that simmering pool of pleasure as your silken walls begin to flutter around him.

You can feel your own orgasm building, the velvety head of his cock brushing against pleasure centers deep inside of you and his thumb working your clit to fan the flames of your lust and desire into a blazing inferno. Hot tendrils of pleasure lick up your spine, arching you into him and rocking your hips against his as you mewl and whine, desperate for your release and to ease the growing heat within your veins.

“Close… fuck, I’m close-” you can barely manage, and he shushes you sweetly.

“I know sweetheart, can feel ya- fuck… clenching around me,” he says between panting breaths. “Wanna feel ya… milkin’ me. Be a good girl… and cum for me.”

He’s relentless in his mission to see you, to feel you, cumming on his cock, hips slamming into yours at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with each of your breathy moans in the sweetest symphony he’s ever heard. And it’s hard, so, so hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them trained on him when he’s fucking you like a man utterly consumed by the desire to see you shatter beneath him.

You don’t hold back, don’t bother trying to quiet the scream that rips from your throat when he sends you careening over that edge, falling, falling, falling into a warm, blissful oblivion. Every muscle in your abdomen pulls taught, pussy clamping down on him as your orgasm tears through you like a wildfire through a parched forest, and he chases his own release with the same rabid intensity, grunting and panting above you with wild thrusts of his hips. A raging storm of intensity that finally breaks when his balls tighten and he spills inside of you, hips stuttering with a guttural moan that rumbles like thunder in his chest.

You stay like that for a long moment, your arms limp beside you, legs quivering against cool marble with his face tucked into the side of your neck and breathing raggedly. When he finally withdraws you whimper at the loss of him, the absence of his warmth and the fullness he gave now leaves you empty and leaking your combined essence, dripping down your thighs onto the obscenely expensive counter. You open your mouth to say something, try to move back to your feet before you make a further mess, but he silences you with his tongue, lapping at your entrance to taste both of you, and the only sound that comes out is an overstimulated whine.

“I know, I know…” he murmurs into your dripping cunt. “But we’ve gotta get ya cleaned up.”

You. Not the counters—you.

When he finally deems you ‘clean’ enough, he helps you down from the counter, makes sure you’re steady on your feet before you even try putting those ridiculous heels back on. And when you leave he tucks the ruined lace of your underwear into his pocket and guides you out of the flat with a firm hand on the small of your back, all the way to your car, and insists on opening the door for you.

Before you can seat yourself he tightens his hold on you and drops down to place a kiss on your cheek, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I’ll see you next week for that showing, sweetheart. Be good for me until then.”

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[good-chimes]

THE RULES OF BUTTERCUP CAMP

Rule 1: No friendly fire in the camp.

Rule 1a: NO GRAVEL, NO SAND, NO FALLING BLOCKS

Rule 1b: SCAR THIS MEANS YOU

--- I dont know What you’re talking about

--- You know exactly what I’m talking about!

Rule 1c: Grian is not allowed to make Scar strip down to his underwear on the Perimeter edge to ‘find all the sand’; this makes us look bad in front of Doc.

--- He had it in his SHOE

--- counter-rule!! Actually this makes us look GReat in front of doc. my abs intimidate him.

--- There’s no such thing as a ‘counter rule’ and your abs don’t intimidate anyone

--- mumbo agrees with me!!

--- I. Um. I just think Scar’s abs could be good PR. I’d be impressed if I were Doc.

Rule 2: All Buttercups must remember at all times that Doc is the enemy and we are here to TAKE HIM DOWN.

Rule 3: Goateater is not allowed to eat Mumbo’s pillow.

Rule 3a: we should leave GOateater alone because she’s doing her Best

--- Scar, she’s doing her best to eat my pillow!

--- this is proving resorcefullness and initive like a good Buttercup!

Rule 4: Mumbo’s cooking tastes like a camping mat and he’s not allowed on the cooking rota

Rule 5: grian cant cook us eggs for more than 2 meals in one day

Rule 6: I have to say I agree with Rule 5.

--- Mumbo needs to LEARN HOW RULES WORK

--- and also stop being RUDE about my COOKING

Rule 7: Goateater is not allowed in Mumbo’s bed under any circumstances.

--- mumbo is biased against Goateater!!

--- Then make her sleep in your bed, Scar!

Rule 8: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he does the sand thing one more time

Rule 9: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he refuses to put a shirt back on and is being really obnoxious about it

Rule 10: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he keeps snoring at night

--- Mate, we’re getting some expansion of powers here that I’m not entirely comfortable with.

--- yknow its not tJHAT Bad

--- Okay, so, Scar, listen, just because you’ve never minded doesn’t mean Grian should be able to do what he likes. This is setting a precedent. We need to talk about this.

Rule 11: Grian is allowed to push anyone into the Perimeter for any reason necessary

--- I told you! I TOLD you!

--- Cmon Mumbo a man’s gotta have hobbies

--- Not threats-of-immediate-violence-to-his-two-closest-friends hobbies!

--- WAnt some sand?

--- I CAN LITERALLY SEE WHAT YOU TWO WRITE HERE. SCAR I AM COMING FOR YOU.

--- Good LUck :)

Rule 12: Grian is not allowed to keep stealing Mumbo’s HotGuy poster for his own tent then denying it.

Rule 12a: Grian is encouraged to get his own poster or pay Mumbo 16 diamonds.

Rule 13: Buttercups are reminded to focus their efforts on DOC and how everything is DOC’S FAULT, not SPYING ON THEIR FRIENDS about POSTERS.

Rule 14: Goateater is not allowed in Mumbo’s entire tent.

Rule 15: Goateater is allowed whrever she likes, including in MUmbos tent.

Rule 16: Scar is not allowed to write rules that contradict previous rules.

Rule 17: Mumbo is not allowed to do that either!!

Rule 17a: If Mumbo and Scar don’t stop fighting over the rules board and GET US SOME DRINKING WATER LIKE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO then Grian gets to throw them both in the Perimeter

--- I thought everything was Doc’s fault.

--- Sometimes it’s your fault, Mumbo!

Rule 18: Look, can we have some sort of punishment here that isn’t ‘Grian pushes people in the perimeter?’ Only he’s not pushing himself in the perimeter, and last night he blew up a firework experiment in the campfire and took half my moustache off.

Rule 18a: That was obviously Doc’s fault.

--- I don’t think it’s Doc’s fault if you did it yourself! In fact, you’re the reason we’re here in the first place. There’s sand in my sleeping bag and I’ve lost half my moustache and Goateater keeps eating my shoes!

--- also I gotta pointout G you never paid me for those fireworks

--- Listen, Buttercups, the rules are very clear about who’s to blame. It’s Doc’s fault.

--- That’s pretty rich coming from you, Grian!

--- also goateater is perfect and hasn’t done anything wrong

--- Shut up, Scar, this is Grian’s fault. I’m making a new rule.

Rule 19: I think we should blame Grian for everything

Rule 20: I secnd this rule

Rule 21: Oh, yeah? Well, I think we should blame SCAR for getting me BAD FIREWORKS

Rule 21a: those were top quality scarland fireworks, Mister!

Rule 22: It was Scar who technically broke the tunnel bore so he’s the reason we’re here

Rule 23: I mean, I guess—Scar, mate, you did do that.

Rule 24: I think we should blame Scar for everything

Rule 25: now wait A MINute

Rule 26: Yes, honestly, it’s mainly Scar’s fault.

Rule 27: Its not!

Rule 28: It’s either you or Grian. I think either way we can all agree I’m the innocent victim here.

Rule 29: What – okay, fine, new plan! I think we should blame MUMBO for everything!

Rule 30: yeah!

NEW RULE: MUMBO IS BANISHED FROM THE BUTTERCUP CAMP

NEW RULE: OH I AM, AM I? WELL THEN, GRIAN IS BANISHED FROM THE BUTTERCUP CAMP!

NEW RULE: OKAY! I GUESS THIS IS MY CAMP NOW! IM MOVING JELLIE INTO YOUR TENTS AND SERVS YOU BOTH RIGHT!

Rule 34: Guys?

Rule 35: …guys?

…

…

…

board suspended :(

…

…

…

Rule 36: fine I’m back

Rule 37: strewing my bed with cherry blossom wasn’t actually necessary

Rule 38: Aw, Scar, you shouldn’t have.

--- i missed you guys

--- I missed you guys too!

--- It’s been TWENTY MINUTES

--- admit it G you missed us

--- Fine I did

--- But I think I have time for a second shot

--- GRIAN

--- joking <3

Rule 39: All previous rules are suspended.

Rule 1: It’s Doc’s fault.

Rule 2: Grian is still allowed to push people into the perimeter.

--- mumbo, wheres Goateater?

--- Special mission, mate, don’t worry about it.

WHY HAS SOMETHING **EATEN** ALL MY ***CROCS***!

YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, BUTTERCUPS!!

– G.O.A.T.

p.s. Also kindly return my hotguy poster, Grian, I know that this was you

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[afictionalwhor3]

Mrs. Serensin

A/N: Back again from the dead lol. College is kicking my ass I cannot even lie. Also, I've been pissed at the lack of diversity in fandoms/fan fics until I realized I can literally change that lol so here's my take enjoy. One shot, I wrote wherever the wind took me.

Dad!Jake Serensin x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, established relationship, fluff (Jake and reader being domestic and in love), only minorly proofread.

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It wasn't the warm sun on your skin that woke you up. Or even the usual patter of feet and knocking at your door that pulled you abruptly from sleep. It was the feeling of soft lips on your skin. Feather light and if you didn't focus you might've missed them. You stirred softly looking over your shoulder as Jake looked back at you with those gorgeous green eyes you fell in love with so many years ago.

"Morning Mrs. Serensin" He says with that famous boyish grin on his face as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

"Morning" You mumble wiping your eyes after you kiss him back. "What time is it? Where are the kids?" You asked him. In seemingly no rush Jake went back to his previous role applying warm kisses to the column on your throat and along your shoulder. As much as you wanted to enjoy the moment you couldn't help but anticipate the screaming of children.

"Relax... kids are still sleeping. It's pretty early. It's just me and you darling" He says and some of his Texas drawl slips out making you smile. You lay on your back to properly look at him your hands tracing over his exposed chest down to his defined stomach. His ability to keep up with his physique while parenting three kids always ceased to amaze you. Jake smirks down at you putting his hands on your hips and giving them a squeeze.

"So are you telling me Mr. Serensin that I have you all to myself for the unforseeable future?" You ask smiling at him as he leans in close to you.

"You do Mrs. Serensin. But I don't know for how long so I plan on making the most of it," He says pressing his lips to yours passionately as you wrap your legs around his waist. After your third child, you were scared that yours and Jake's sex life would die down, or maybe he wouldn't even find you attractive anymore. Boy, you couldn't be further from the truth. You could swear that after each kid Jake only began to worship you more.

"You're gorgeous. Always so pretty" Jake whispers to himself when he pulls away from your lip to kiss at your jaw. He then quickly gets rid of his old navy shirt you had on. Slipping a finger up your slit smirking as you whimper. "Always so wet for me mama. I love it." He says pressing his lips to yours again as he slides a finger into your pussy making you moan.

"Jake please. I need you so bad. No teasing please," You beg. The nagging feeling of getting caught lingering at the back of your brain and you don't know what you'd with yourself if this moment between you two was interrupted. Jake slides another finger into you curling them just right to make your eyes roll back as you grab his wrist.

"There you go baby. I got ya. Always gotta make sure you're ready for me." Jake says pressing kisses to your collarbone as he gently pulls his fingers out and takes off his boxers. He guides himself up to your slit teasing you briefly before slowly sliding himself inside your heat both of you letting out breaths of pleasure. "Fuck you're always so tight for me mama. Three kids and you're still tight as the first night we met" Jake breathes into your neck.

One of the many things you loved about sex with Jake was how he wasn't scared to be vocal. You loved all the filthy things he would tell you as he fucked you into oblivion. No matter how many times the two of you had sex it would never get old. And this time was no different as he began thrusting in and out of you, "Yes Jake. Right there baby" You moan your hands finding his back as your nails dig gently into his flesh.

"Pussy's always ready for me. Always ready to take me. Ain't that right baby?" Jake asks as you nod. Usually, he loves to take his time with you, always wanting to make you cum before he even thinks about pleasuring himself. Unfortuantely this morning he didn't have that luxury and there is no way he would pass up an opportunity to watch you lose yourself on his cock. He sits up putting one leg over his shoulder and after a couple of hard thrusts he watches your jaw go slack and your eyes roll back. "There we go mama. There's the spot I was looking for. Feels so good doesn't it baby?"

All you can give him is moan after moan as you spiral deeper and deeper into pleasure. Jake realizes you losing your volume control and presses his lips to yours. "So loud for me. Love when you vocalize how good I'm fucking you baby" He whispers against your lips.

"Jake you're fucking me too good. Don't stop baby and I'll cum. Gonna cum all over your cock" You moan locking eyes with him. Now it is Jake's turn to get lost in your big brown eyes. The same ones he saw everytime he looked at your children.

"Gonna make a mess on my cock baby? Go ahead. Cum for me, I got you" He instructs as he slips a hand in between your body and begins to toy with your clit. That is the final straw for you as you bite softly into his shoulder to control your moans of pleasure. The spasming of your orgasm around Jake's cock has him cumming only a few strokes after you "Fuck baby I'm stuffing your pussy Oh god!" He moans into your ear before relaxing against your body.

You both lay in post orgasmic haze for what feels like forever "We should probably get ourselves together sometime soon before we end up having the birds and the bees conversation a lot sooner than we planned," Jake says making you smile. You run your hands through his hair a few times always trying to maximize the alone time you two shared,

"I guess you have a point there" You say as he smiles looking at you and kissing you "You are the love of my life Mrs. Serensin" He says before slowly pulling out of you as you whimper at the loss of contact. He stands up getting a warm cloth to clean you up with before he uses it for himself. After he does so you stand up so you can start getting ready for the day. You walk over to your closet finding clothes to put on after your quick shower. As you do so you hear Jake whistle behind you making you look over your shoulder,

"Looking good has always Mrs. Serensin. Do you know that everyday we are together you get sexier?" Jake asks as you roll your eyes and go back to the task at your hand biting your lip to hide your smile. You grab a towel before looking at him again,

"You know you don't have to sweet talk me anymore? We're married you know I'll give it to you whenever you want. Also I have a name outside of Mrs. Serensin" You say rhetorically loving that he calls you that all the time and never stops trying to woo you like the days he asked for your number.

"You know better than anyone I love the chase. As long as I'm on earth I'll spend that time hitting on you. You're too hot not to. And if I wanted to call you by your name I wouldn't of married you." He says as you continue to hide your smile from him and walk towards the bathroom. Before he can even ask you say, "No Mr. Serensin you cannot join," you smile as you see him fake pout out of the corner of your eye.

~

"They have the little festival thing in the park we could take them to. Wyatt and Cam loved it last year with the face painting and the balloon animals." You say as you and Jake finish getting dressed for the day almost ready to wake the kids up. Jake walks over slapping your bum gently before wrapping his arms around you.

"Whenever you tell me to go Mrs. Serensin is where I'll be" He says as you roll your eyes. He buries his head in crevice of your neck enjoying the fresh smell of vanilla that is so uniquely you he can smell it wherever he goes.

"Well there's also-" You start before both you and Jake hear a loud crash from downstairs. Both looking scared you race out of your room and downstairs. Jake keeps you behind him the whole time as you walk into the kitchen and see your three children covered in some kind of mix and eggs. Both of your jaws hanging open.

"We wanted to surprise you and make you guys pancakes" Your oldest Wyatt says as you sigh taking a deep breath as you see Jake try to refrain himself from laughing. You hit him lightly in the arm as you get closer to your babies.

"That is so sweet of you guys but next time you can get one of us and we will help you. Just to make sure no one gets hurt." You say picking up your youngest, your little girl Julia as she smiles that big toothy grin at you. "Surprise!!" she says holding her arms out as you hold her at an arms length laughing softly.

"How about daddy helps you guys get cleaned up and dressed for the day while I clean this mess up. After that we will all get breakfast and if you're good go to the park." You say as they all clap in unison. Wyatt and Cam make a dash past Jake racing to the bathroom as you walk over to him putting Julia in his arms.

"Get to cleaning Daddy. There's a lot of work to do" You smile giving him a kiss as Julia cuddles into him leaving Jake stunned and just as dirty now. Yet he can't help but smile at you, then his little girl, and at the life he currently as. Despite the egg yolk on his shirt, and the mess that he can already hear happening in the upstairs bathroom, he swears he wouldn't change his life for anything.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Fool!Milo Quotes

i need more of this man now (yes i know we’re probably never gonna hear from him again) @qhoaaaa here’s your man :))

“Boo!”

“Sweet lips.”

“My little Stealth.”

“But you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve never heard of magic, what’s a “Vampire”, isn’t that something from a movie, unnhhh.”

“More inhale.”

“Oh this is my lucky night, bitch.”

“Oh, I know I’m close. You’re welcome.”

“So you flops can just give up already.”

“Your adrenaline’s pumping so hard I can literally taste it on the air. I’m not even touching. I’m just looking, and your heart’s already pounding this bad.”

“Excuse me? I’ll say fuck as much as I fucking want to, thank you very fucking much, fuck you, how’s that?”

“You should try some deep breaths, sweetness.”

“I know I look good, but I shouldn’t have to be the last thing you see.”

“Oh don’t you look surly. Whatsa matter sweet cheeks?”

“How in god’s name did I just end up on babysitting duty for a Department shill? God if Dmitri finds out about this I’m getting my ass handed to me. Hell, if Porter finds out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No that’s not a Vampire power, that’s a me power.”

“I hate to be the voice of reason cause that shit’s boring as all hell.”

“Don’t try me, Sweetheart, I’m not that fucking soft.”

“Those wet blanket fuck boysup at the Department sent you into shit this deep on your first day?”

“He’s dead. He crossed the Talbot Pack, and they’re friends of the House. So we wiped him. Poof. Head gone. Actually, most of his limbs gone.”

“Snap, crackle, pop.”

“Let me share a little secret with you, Sweetheart. Look at me. Look at this face. Look at this body. People beg me to feed on them. The day I have to trance someone or force someone to get blood, is the day up is down and left is right.”

“Now that I know you’re not some dyed-in-the-wool Department peon, I can focus on your other, far more appealing traits. And it just so happens they do appeal. A lot.”

“What’s this? The lovely little investigator is gonna take a walk on the wild side? Be still my heart.”

“Okay well I’m gonna touch now, you’re literally falling over.”

“What, I’m supposed to whisk you away in my arms? You gotta earn that, baby.”

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[justagalwhowrites]

TikTok Trend

Beautiful decides to take part in a TikTok Trend with Joel. A New in Town drabble.

^We're borrowing Mr. Ben for a late-40s Joel, OK? I desperately need more gifs of Pedro's Joel from that era, I'm too reliant on other characters and actual Pedro gifs for these fics GIVE ME SOMETHING PLEASE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Not much! Age gap but not the focus of the fic (reader is 36, Joel is 48). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 1.4k

A/N: I got stuck thinking earlier how Joel would react to the "call your boyfriend your husband" trend and this is how I think it'd go. This is set about 3 months before the last chapter of New in Town. This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's best friend and Joel and Reader have an established relationship of about a year.

“So what’s this for again?” Joel asked as he sat down at the picnic table in the park. 

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you said, settling in beside him. Joel opened the paper bag the two of you had just gotten from a food truck and started taking out the tacos, putting some in front of you and him. 

“Right,” he said. “And… I’m sorry, baby, but what’s the point?” 

You laughed as you set your phone against your water bottle so it was propped up and ready to film. 

“There isn’t really one, I guess,” you said. “It’s just a fun little video you make and then share. Those interns I have until May are all about it, they were showing me some of theirs the other day. Figure if I work in marketing, I gotta keep up with the trends!” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“So this is the kind of shit Sarah does, huh?” 

“Yeah, she does,” you laughed again. “Her and the interns made one for the company social page the other day, actually.” 

“Can I see?” He asked, interest suddenly piqued. 

“Sure,” you picked your phone back up and found your company’s TikTok, scrolling to the video and handing it off to Joel. 

“We work in marketing, of course we over analyze every ad we see,” Sarah said through your phone, a small smile on Joel’s face as he watched. 

It made you smile, too. One of the fun parts about being in the strange middle ground between your boyfriend’s and best friend’s ages was serving as a bit of a translator between them. Joel still didn’t quite get TikTok. Sarah didn’t understand why her dad refused to go all in on streaming and still had cable. You, at least, could see both sides. 

But this TikTok effort had nothing to do with Sarah. You did try to keep up with the trends on social media to better craft campaigns and content - capitalizing on trends meant that you had to move quick and you couldn’t afford to be out of touch - but your personal TikTok account was mostly empty. It was pretty private, anyway, shared with only a few close friends like Sarah and Maria. All it had were a few reposts of things you liked, some montages of video snippets from you and Joel’s first vacation together, that sort of thing. 

“You should do some of the trends!” Jason, one of your interns, said earlier that day. 

“Just being in the loop on trends is plenty for me,” you waved him off but smiled. “I don’t need to participate.” 

“But it’s fun!” Kenzie, your other intern said. “They’re not all dances and stuff, you know…” 

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just not what I want to spend a lot of time doing is all.” 

“Some don’t take much time,” she said, opening her phone and scrolling for a second. “Here, this one’s easy. You said you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“I do…” 

“Cool,” she said. “So all you do is record yourself making a video where you call your boyfriend your husband, just to see how he reacts. No crazy edits or anything, it’s super easy.” 

You caved after some light convincing and came up with a plan to get Joel in front of the camera. You told him it was a spicy food challenge, just to see which of you handled the heat better and, while you knew he wouldn’t really get the point, you knew he’d be supportive. He always was. 

But there was something about this trend in particular that made you a little nervous. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You’d been together a year now, you’d just moved into his house. It had definitely come up. But it had come up in the way that far off things do, something that might happen some day if things fell into place in just the right way. You didn’t want to push it, didn’t want him to feel rushed or obligated, especially since you’d only been cohabitating about a month. Bringing up marriage - even like this - made you nervous. 

“OK I think I get it,” Joel handed you your phone back after watching Sarah’s video twice. “But we’re not doin’ that same thing, right?” 

“Nope,” you said. “We’re going to see who handles the spice better.” 

“Think we both know which one of us is gonna win that one, Beautiful,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against your temple before kissing your cheek. “Us southern men are made of sterner stuff…” 

“Yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning close to him. “We’ll just see about that.” 

You set your phone up to record again, propping it against your water bottle. 

“Here, you gotta get in close because the TikTok format is vertical,” you said and Joel adjusted so you were half beside and half in front of him, his arm going around your waist, hand finding your hip, thumb slipping up below your shirt to find your bare flesh above the band of your pants and brushing you slowly, sensually there. You gave him a look. 

“What?” He asked, brows raised, smile barely contained. 

“Don’t act all innocent,” you shook your head. “You know exactly what you’re doing…” 

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s make your little TikTik video…” 

“TikTok,” you rolled your eyes but adjusted yourself, your heart pounding. 

“Whatever the kids are using now,” he said. “Because the sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you home…” 

“Alright, I’m going to record,” you cut him off. “Behave yourself!” 

“Always do, Beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes again but took a deep breath, leaned forward and pressed record. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, watching the recording of you and Joel as it was made on the screen. “I’m here with my husband and we’re going to do the spicy food challenge…”

“Your what?” He cut you off and you turned so you could see him a little better. 

“What?” 

“Did…” he paused, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were losing it or he was. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “Did you just call me your husband?” 

“Yeah,” you shrugged, turning back to the camera. “Anyway, my husband and I both really love spicy food and…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Joel grabbed your chin almost roughly, pulling you around to face him and all but crushed his lips against yours, clutching you close, kissing you deep and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he finally let you go, you looked at him and laughed a little, watching him. 

“What was that for?” You asked. 

“You wanna call me your husband?” He asked, a serious look on his face. “Beautiful, we will go to the courthouse right this damn second, don’t tempt me…” 

“Joel, it’s 7 p.m.,” you laughed. “The courthouse is closed.” 

“Don’t care,” he said, giving you a quicker kiss this time. “C’mon, we’ll grab Sarah on the way, see if Tommy wants to meet us…” 

“That’s all it takes, hm?” You teased, heart pounding but for a good reason now. “Just me slipping up and calling you my husband and you’re ready to run down the aisle?” 

“Baby, I’ve been ready to run down the aisle for about a year,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Just been waitin’ on you to catch up.” 

“Well,” you kissed him softly. “I’m more than caught up. But think I’m still gonna make you ask.” 

“Good luck stopping me,” he said, kissing you again, longer this time, needier, until you pulled away with a groan. “Forget this food challenge, I gotta get you home and devour you. Let’s go, wife.” 

You laughed and stopped the recording on your phone, saving the video to drafts as Joel gathered up the food. You made the mental note to edit out that last part before posting, no need for the interns or Sarah to know quite that much about your sex life. 

“Sorry for ruining your little video,” he said as you started back toward the car. “We can try again later, promise to actually behave myself then…” 

“That’s alright,” you smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I already got everything I need.”

[rotten1angel]

slytherin sweetheart. / s. black

sirius black x fem!malfoy!reader

5.7k words

summary — james and sirius see if sirius can break the slytherin ice queen’s shell for a prank – but it leads to much more.

authors note & warnings — borderline inspired by 10 things i hate about you, shit proofreading, underage drinking, forms of child neglect and abuse, lmk anything else!

—

(y/n) malfoy was an ice queen, a rich and powerful pureblood princess, older twin sister of lucius malfoy. because of that fact, the marauders, particularly james potter and sirius black thought to see whether sirius “the flirt” black could get her to swoon, to get you to swoon.

you walked through the halls, a permanent glare and wicked smile duo on your face as you walked in line with your brother. other slytherins walked behind you two, following like dogs behind the malfoy twins. building up to 6th year, your brother had built up a rather cruel reputation, and you always beside him, lumped you into said reputation. first and second years cowered at the sight of the two of you. and you also seemed to be a target of numerous pranks orchestrated by four gryffindors in your year.

those four gryffindors were now sneering at the gaggle of slytherins walking into the dining hall, including you and your brother.

“we gotta do something about them.” sirius starts, “all of our pranks don't seem to affect them.”

james forms a wicked grin as a practically visible lightbulb lights over his head. “make her swoon.” 

“huh?” is all that stutters out of sirius’s open mouth, “how am i ‘sposed to do that if she hates us?” sirius stares at the bespeckled boy, stating the obvious.

“stop your other dalliances,” earning a scoff from remus, “and focus only on (y/n),” james explains.

“it’ll annoy the shit outta malicious,” james’s nickname for lucius, “and then just leave.” 

a twinning grin makes its way to sirius’s face as peter shrinks into himself and remus sighs in disapproval, but when have they ever listened to him?

you practically hear hisses from your table right before feeling a body slide in next to yours on the bench. you turn your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder to find the outcasted black sitting beside you. you raise a single brow at him, a small scowl on your face.

“hey there, sweetheart.” you could feel lucius’ glare from across the table.

“don’t sweetheart me, black.” you respond, taking a sip of water from your goblet. 

“what are you doing here?” lucius’ cruel voice spits at the raven-haired boy.

“just trying to get to know your sister here, malicious.” you have to stifle the laugh creeping up from your chest at the nickname. your brother turns to glare at you as sirius’ lips quirk up at your show of humanity. 

“pick you up friday then?” sirius quips.

‘yeah, sure black.” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“i’ll be in the common room.” you say to your brother as you get up, fixing your already shortened skirt and leaving your half finished plate on the grand table as you walk past the curly haired boy, your walk as poised as ever. sirius leaves the slytherin table to prance back to his own, “phase one is in action.”

the next few days sirius smiles at you in your shared classes, offers to help you in potions (though you’re the one who ends up helping him), even offering to walk you to your classes and carry your books, all leading up to friday.

you do not know why he seems to like you all of a sudden, but it is nice to be liked.

friday arrives, classes are over, accompanied by all of sirius’ courting gestures. you’re getting ready with your dormmates, narcissa, who your brother has taken quite a liking to, and bellatrix, to go to a ravenclaw house party, and while it is a house party, plenty of ravenclaws had invited 90 percent of the 5th, 6th and 7th year students, so it was practically come one, come all. you had been putting on the finishing touches, some blood red dangly earrings and a matching necklace. adorned in those jewels and a black mini dress and black heels you headed down to the common room. a knock on the door interrupted the mingling in the slytherin common room, an unusual sound in the dungeons. narcissa moves to open the stone door, surprise coloring her face as she sees the rejected black. you climb the few steps to see what she's gaping at to see the same sight.

sirius black in a black button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. at the sight of you his eyes widen slightly before meeting your gaze.

“friday right?”

you gape at him, your dark red lipstick outlining your shock. you cast a glance back at narcissa, who has a teasing look in her eyes, not bothering to look at bella who has a fuming glare at her cousin. you sigh and push black back from the door before following him out, allowing narcissa to close the door behind you, she’ll join you at the party.

“what is this?” you whisper yell at him, though, you're not even near angry, maybe more embarrassment, if that. 

“told you i’d pick you up didn't i?” he sallies back at you. you roll your eyes at him before heading out of the dungeons and to ravenclaw tower. sirius follows behind you like a dutiful puppy before catching up to your poised stride. 

“you’re lucky it wasn't lucius opening that door, black.” you spare a glance at him as you go through the maze of moving staircases to ravenclaw tower.

“oh what's malicious gonna do?” you let your laugh ring out this time, a heavenly sound to the boy beside you.

“you really shouldn’t call him that,” you glance over at him again, “even if it's true.” 

you don't know what's come over you, your hardened, preserved, ‘ice-cold’ heart is being chipped away at by the boy beside you, why are you walking with him? laughing at his jokes about your brother?

you don't see the wondrous gaze sirius gives you when you look forward again, this time at the front of the ravenclaw door. sirius bares you the burden of knocking on the door as he does it himself. you can smell the firewhiskey breath of the boy who opens the door, ushering you and sirius in, eyes following hogwarts’ ‘ice-queen’ who’s arrived with sirius ‘the flirt’ black. 

the sconces and candles lighting the common room have been enchanted to flare blue and purple. drinks cover the tables and drunk bodies grind together in the center of the room.

“well, you picked me up and escorted me to the party, black. that’s more than most men get, i'll see you later.” you leave him, slightly disappointed, with a little wave of your fingers as you take a shot from the table and glide yourself into the sea of bodies.

the party carries on, narcissa and bellatrix arrive. narcissa makes her way to you, no doubt to question what sirius black was doing at the slytherin dungeons, and bellatrix follows her, casting a glare towards sirius.

andromeda, the only black relative who had not hated sirius arrives as well, on the arm of ted tonks, a muggleborn hufflepuff, to sirius’s knowledge. she makes her way to sirius, a curious quirk of her lips clues him in to how this conversation will go.

“so.. provoking even more pureblood families then your own, then, sirius?” she asks in a teasing tone. he scoffs out a laugh.

“‘spose so..” he trails off, his eyes finding your figure as you dance with narcissa, a begrudging bellatrix standing close to the two of you, clearly not wanting to be near any non-purebloods. 

“i hope you know what that’ll do to her.” andromeda says to him before walking off with ted on her arm, leaving a disoriented sirius reeling over his older cousin’s words. he feels a strong pat on his back, sending him jolting forward for a minute before turning to see james and remus. 

“so how’s the situation with miss ice queen coming along?” james asks, a grin on his lips. 

“oh— uh good.. good.” sirius responds, shaking himself out of the trance that andromeda’s comment had him in. remus lifts an eyebrow at him subtly but james steers the two over to the drink table before remus can say anything. 

eventually, james gets drunk enough to saunter his way over to lily evans to try and win her heart as he has tried since 1st year.

remus and sirius move to a back wall, but sirius still has a view of you, still only one shot in, still having a grand time with narcissa.

the two boys are silent for a long while and sirius’s eyes find you again, his gaze is sweet, his mind as far from the ‘prank’ this was supposed to be. 

“you like her.” remus states, snapping sirius out of his adoring trance.

“what?” sirius implores, whipping his head, curls slapping his face as he turns to look at the lanky boy. 

“have you thought about what you might do to her if you just leave her, as james said?” he questions the ravenette. 

“w.. well no..” sirius sputters.

“if she does fall for you and you leave her, you will break her heart.” he starts, “lucius knows you're courting her, which he will be able to tell that she has been heartbroken and likely tell his parents. do you understand that?” remus pushes.

sirius stays silent, he doesn't know what to say, or what he's even thinking.

“think about that.” remus states before giving sirius a pat on the shoulder before going to join marlene and mary at the drinks table. 

sirius leaves the party early after that, and your eyes watch as he goes. 

over the next few days, you and sirius grow closer, opting to sit with him in potions when he offers over your brother. which causes lucius to corner you afterwards, since it is the last lecture of the day. sirius casts you a glance before walking on with his mates.

“what is going on between you two?” his voice has no concern, only barely concealed rage in his hushed tone.

“n..nothing lucius, nothing.” he raises a brow at you, “i'm just having a bit of fun with him..”

“it better be that.” is all he says before he stormed off, a threat unspoken.

your face scrunches in his direction, he had always been on your side, or was it rather you had never deviated from his?

you pulled yourself together swiftly before heading to the dungeons to drop off your stuff. you pick back up only your potions things, stuffing them into a black messenger bag before heading to the black lake where you were supposed to meet sirius to study.

you stride over to where a mess of inky curls sits, a few feet from the lake. you plop your bag down before taking off your cloak, placing it down before sitting on top of it. 

“so.. what did your brother want?” sirius asks. 

not malicious? you thought.

“oh, nothing..” you say, an uncertain undertone in your voice, sirius picks up on it but doesn't pry. “let’s start with amortentia.”

sirius quirks his brow at you, to which you smile and scoff, “it's the first alphabetically, black.”

you both flip to the page in your potion books but sirius lays his on the ground and looks at you, as you are supposed to be testing him. “what are the ingredients to brew amortentia?”

he thinks for a minute, his eyes on the ground, before meeting your gaze again. “ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, powdered moonstone, peppermint, and pearl dust.” he recites them properly, causing a wistful smile to make its way to your face, “and what are the possible substitutions?”

“refined peppermint oil for peppermint, and mother of pearl for pearl dust,” he answers. a grin breaks out on your face that time, a sight sirius relishes in. you smack his arm lightly, “you know this stuff, black! why are you so clueless in potions?” you question him.

“well how can i focus with you next to me, sweetheart?” he asks as he breaks your gaze to look at the lake, he doesn't see the way you try to contain your smile or the way your cheeks flush. all he hears is your scoff. 

you close your potions book and set it on the grass next to you.

“so why ask me to help you study, if i distract you so much?” you tease him, and it gets his heart fluttering.

“well you're hard to get alone, (y/n).” 

your lips quirk upwards as he looks back to you. 

“james keeps saying how he’ll beat you into the dirt during the quidditch game this saturday, he’s even planned a party for his undetermined victory.” sirius voices.

“undetermined? so you do have some faith in me, sirius.” god, the way his name sounded from your lips. 

“if we do win, you’ll come to the party?” he asks, no, pleads. 

“so james can rub his win in my face, captain to captain?” you quip.

“for me.” he replies, rousing you to silence, the soft, pleading tone in his voice making your cheeks flush once again.

“I'll come.” you respond, sirius’s eyes widening slightly before a grin breaks out on his face. he then hears james and remus calling him from across the green and swiftly packs up his things and gets up.

“i’ll see you later, sweetheart.” he says before dipping down briefly to kiss your cheek and runs off to his mates, leaving you a flustered mess in peace. 

saturday came quick enough, and as the captain of the slytherin team, you bring your all, however when you hear sirius call your name you look up to see a bludger coming for you. thrown off, it hits the front of your broom, missing your body completely but snapping the front of your broom off and spinning it to the ground. you end up a little disheveled, but nothing broken. the game is called off since you have no stand-ins and gryffindor wins with the points they have. 

after the game you keep true to your promise to sirius and shower, getting ready for the gryffindor celebratory party. bellatrix eyes you from her bed, fury behind her dark eyes. narcissa and andromeda help you get ready, however, curling your hair for you and getting your jewelry out. you decide on a dark red long sleeve dress, fitting your body perfectly. black heeled boots and a black headband, along with your blood red earrings and necklace complete your look. you kiss andromeda and narcissa on the cheek, leaving lip prints on each of their faces before heading to gryffindor tower. 

you knock on the edge of the painting, careful not to mess with the fat lady, she ushers out a ‘thank you, dear’ before a younger boy, probably a 4th year, opens the door. 

“what do you want, snake?” you're thrown off by the comment, used to people being afraid to look in your direction, since when have you become soft enough for others to notice?

sirius shoves past the boy, knocking him into the wall as he grins down at you, you give him a small smile in return, “you came.”

“promised i would.” you respond as he offers his hand and you take it. he admires the red dress that adorns your figure.

“suitable dress for the house who won,” james saunters around the corner, already tipsy, “only by default.” you quip back at him, he’s definitely less hostile to you now, but whether that's from sirius’s attention or the alcohol, you couldn't say.

when you enter the common room, it's filled with boisterous laughter and celebration, and you can appreciate their enthusiasm. you find the drink table, mainly firewhiskey, a preferred favorite of the gryffindor house. you toss back a few shots, scalding your throat, hopefully to relieve some of the pain from your fall earlier. sirius looks at you with concern.

“i can have fun, black.” you shoot at him and he laughs, “of course, babe.”

your cheeks heat at the nickname, or the alcohol, but you feel your vision haze slightly already. a few more drinks in and you're dancing on the coffee table in front of the fire. gryffindors around you are cheering you on but sirius had lost you in the crowd, he looks for marlene, finding her back by the stairs with dorcas.

“you seen (y/n)?” he asks over the thunder of the crowd, she only points at you and his eyes widen, making her and dorcas laugh. He pushes through the sea of people to get to the edge of the coffee table.

as soon as he does he sees and hears you hit your head on the chandelier floating above you, it throws your drunk body off balance and you stumble until you fall right into him. thankfully, he’s nowhere near as drunk as you are and braces for impact before lifting you off the table and away from the crowd as they continue to carouse.

he sits you on the, thankfully, empty stairs, and marlene and dorcas leave you two be. you cradle your throbbing head in your hand as sirius pushes back the curled strands of your hair falling in your face. 

“you need to see madame pomfrey,” he states as you wince as he tries to examine the bump, thankfully no blood. 

“no, i’m.. i’m fine.” you falter, your head falling forward slightly but he holds it up.

“stay awake, (y/n).” you only hum in response. he helps you off the stairs, holding you up against his body.

“marlene bring some water to the boys dorms, please.” he shouts over the crowd but sees marlene nod at him and give a thumbs up. he ushers you up to the marauders dorm, placing you gently on his bed, making sure you’re sitting up right. you slouch over into him, your forehead against his chest as he examines the bump on your head more thoroughly. it doesn't look terrible but you did hit it pretty hard. he crouches down to be level with you, your eyes are closed and your jaw is slack, he slaps your face gently.

“hey, hey, (y/n), no, wake up. (y/n), open your eyes!” your eyes flutter open at his voice and you gaze up into his stormy ones. “hey… your eyes have a little blue in them..”

he laughs at your drunk mumble, “right you are, sweetheart.”

marlene comes in with two big glasses of water, placing them on the nightstand beside you and gazing over to you, “feel better, sweetie,” she says before leaving the two of you and closing the door.

you break your gaze to look over at the water on the nightstand and sirius catches your line of sight, grabbing the water and handing it to you. you take generous gulps before taking a breath of air, “water’s good.”

“yeah?” sirius asks you, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. his curiosity can't help but take over him, “why are you so.. closed off?” he utters the words before he can stop his lips.

you explain to him how your parents had conditioned you in the ways of a pureblood wife, silent, poised, cold. How they’d locked you in a closet if you’d talked back. How they conditioned you not to cry.

He knew exactly how you grew up, he grew up the same.

His hand moved from your hair to cradle your cheek. You glanced up at him, seeing the look of understanding and you understood too. 

“what a duo we are..” you mumble

“indeed.” he responds.

“i promise i'm here for you..” you mutter.

a comfortable silence overtakes the two of you, you gaze into his stormy eyes, deeper than you’d ever expected. you lean in gently and your eyes flutter close. your lips meet his for a brief second before he pulls back. your eyebrows scrunch as your eyes open again.

“another time..” he mutters out. you back away from him, finishing the glass of water before getting up and storming out of his dorm. 

you avoid his gaze in all your classes on monday, opting to sit next to your brother instead during potions, he scowls at you but doesn't refuse you. you feel sirius’ gaze on you but you ignore it. after you get out he follows after you, calling your name. he tugs on your shoulder and you spin around to face him, a scowl on your face. “please, meet me at the lake in 20, please.”

you sigh at him and walk off, no definite answer to give him. 20 minutes pass and you exit the halls of the hogwarts castle, walking into the sun’s rays and onto the green. You spot a familiar raven-haired boy sitting by the lake, the same place you ‘studied.’ you walk over to him, sitting down beside him silently. 

“you came,” he says, his tone bordering astonishment as he gazes at you.

“i promised.. i'm here for you.” you answer him. 

he smiles at you and you can’t help but return it. 

a few weeks pass as the fall bleeds into winter and the yule ball is brought up. you and sirius have begun hanging out practically everyday after potions. his mates, james specifically, have started to notice. when sirius gets back into the dorms — after missing dinner — and he sits his happy ass down on his bunk, james puts down the potions assignment he was attempting to work on. 

“what’s with you and (y/n)?” james asks, no hostility in his voice, pure curiosity.

sirius snaps out of his giddy daze quickly, “nothing,” he replies, hesitation dripping from his voice.

“he likes her.” peter squeaks out. 

when remus can’t talk about things going on in the group to everyone, he talks to peter about it — the boy’s so quiet anyway. james's eyes widen slightly while sirius’s practically bulge out of his head. he looks accusingly at remus who only throws his hands up in surrender. 

“i mean it's fine if you do, sirius, but.. (y/n)?” james utters out, causing sirius to turn to him, a small glare in his eyes at his best friend. 

“she’s not what you think she is.” he says coldly.

“hey, i believe you, mate! If you say she’s not a heinous stuck-up bitch, i believe you.” james says with a small smile, causing sirius to throw a dirty quidditch jersey in his general direction, pulling a laugh out of the tan boy. 

“does this mean i can talk about her now? cause i've had to keep all my shit to myself and it is hard.” sirius says, getting approvals from his mates before he begins blabbing all about you into the night.

you’re huddled with narcissa and bellatrix in the courtyard when you feel a tap on your shoulder and see bellatrix sneer at whoever is behind you, causing a grin to pull at your lips as you turn to face sirius. bellatrix stomps off and narcissa follows her, but not before giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

“sirius,” you regard him, tucking a loose curl behind his ear, causing his pale cheeks to redden slightly. 

“go to the ball with me.” he asks, or rather urges. You let out a soft giggle, “i would love to.” 

his face breaks into a grin at your response and he can’t help but cup your cheeks and plant a soft kiss on your lips, the kiss is all smiles and you giggle again when he parts. “you’ve gotta get to class, love,” he whispers.

“so do you..” you respond, but he only tucks a stray hair behind your ear in return and walks off. you have a soft smile on your face as you walk to charms.

unknown to you, your twin was behind one of the stone columns of the courtyard, witnessing your display of affection, and heads to his dorm to write a letter.

weeks pass and the ball creeps up. you’ve been to boutique’s on the higher end of hogsmeade with narcissa and have gotten dresses. narcissa’s a deep envy green, and yours to contrast, a deep red. floor length, the waist line just below your chest and thin straps. matching silk gloves run up your arms and your hair is curled and styled down. you walk down to the dining hall, revamped for the yule ball, with narcissa, her parting from you once she sees lucius, who had asked her. you glance around, not seeing sirius, but you spot marlene, along with dorcas and lily. you hesitantly make your way over to her, stopping a foot away from her. dorcas taps her shoulder and points to you and marlene turns. 

“oh, hey doll!” she says before looking over your dress. “god, sirius is gonna lose his mind!” she comments, making you smile.

“you bet he is.” lily laughs out. 

“you guys mind if i stay with you till sirius comes?” you ask gingerly.

“not at all, babe!” marlene affirms, they make you feel welcome immediately. the four of you chatter, lily mentioning something about how the boys are late to everything.

dorcas spots james followed by the others and waves him down. he makes his way over, arm circling lily’s waist as he steps up to you four. seems she finally gave in to him. 

you turn to spot the other three, a few steps behind and when sirius sees you’re talking with his friends his heart stutters and then swells. He skips over to you, his arm copying james’s action. “amazing dress, love.” 

marlene and dorcas simper at him and he gives them a look. 

you end up spending most of the night with sirius and his mates, dancing in turn with the girls and your date. a slow song has just finished up and the girls whisk you away once again. 

“is sirius good to you, truly?” dorcas asks you, and you smile, “he is, he’s sweet, and funny, and honest..” you say as you feel him creep up behind you leaning over your shoulder, “talkin’ about me, love?” 

you roll your eyes at him, your smile widening at his mere presence. james saunters up behind him, throwing an arm around both sirius and you, squeezing himself between the two of you. “crazy how (y/n) got brought into our little group ‘cause of a prank,” james says, and you falter.

“what?” you ask, a confused smile still on your face but is wiped off immediately by james’s next words.

“yeah, near the beginning of the year we thought it’d be fun to crack your shell and get sirius to flirt with you and.. stuff..” james trails off as he catches lily’s glare, along with marlene and dorcas’s tensed faces, and then yours. 

it was now silent in the hall to you — the shrieks and laughs of joy from the ball now drowned out. your eyes are glossed over with tears, but you dare not let them spill as you look at sirius accusingly. 

“(y/n), listen—” he starts but you storm away, james dropping his arm as you speed out of the hall. 

“do you not know when to shut up, james?” marlene whisper yells at him as sirius tries chasing after you.

he runs after you down one of the corridors as you're making your way back to the dungeons, he grabs your wrist, whirling you around. “(y/n), please listen!”

“are you going to deny what james said?” you ask coldly, he hadn't heard your voice like that in months, and it was as if he’d gotten a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on him. “well.. i can't but—”

you break out of his grasp, one tear slipping from the corner of your eye.

“don’t talk to me, black.” you storm off again, leaving him in the middle of the empty corridor.

the rest of the year passes in a blur, you’ve been shunned by your brother, and you were a cold, ice queen again. sitting alone in classes you don’t have with narcissa. you had appointed a new captain for the quidditch team and you quit. you spent your time in your dorm, sometimes by the black lake during quidditch games when you knew sirius couldn’t run off and find you.

and sirius.. he was in shambles, sulking practically the rest of the year. 

summer came and you went home, riding in a train compartment with lucius, the silence enveloping the enclosed area was suffocating. you were grateful to finally get back to your manor, until you were stopped by your house elf from entering. your father came to the door, nodding at lucius before turning to you. “i understand you were involved with sirius black and his.. company.” 

your heart stops and you nearly drop your luggage. tightening your grip on it, you manage to utter out, “..what?”

“you’ve become a blood traitor, (y/n). this is no longer your home.” and then he shuts the door in your face. a sigh forces its way out of your lungs and suddenly, all the walls and barriers you built around your heart shatter, the dam overflows. 

your eyes well with tears and they overflow, the years of holding them back and pushing them down all come to surface. you sob.

only a few minutes later you hear a honk behind you. turning, you see what you're to understand is the knight bus. you take a ragged breath in before straightening your face, still trained to push down feelings. you step onto the bus and the ‘host’ asks where you're headed, “.. the leaky cauldron.” you utter out before sitting on one of the many beds that are not unlike the beds in the hogwarts dorms. 

you get there and pay for a room. you stay for a few days, until your pocket money runs out and you have to leave again. you debate going back to malfoy manor for a few minutes before ultimately deciding it wasn’t a smart idea. it’s night again, you're not sure how long it's been since you weren't allowed in your house, you had rarely bathed, the days had turned into blurs.

you step out into the chilly air of london outside the leaky cauldron, your breath forming clouds in front of you. and in a few minutes the knight bus came again. you don't hesitate before stepping on this time. and when the host asks where you’re headed, you reply, “potter manor.” without thinking.

you’d remembered sirius telling you how euphemia, james’s mother, practically adopted him after being kicked out.

it’s only a few minutes before you've arrived. you thank the driver before getting off as it whizzes away again. 

you take a few minutes to walk up to the door, and a few more beats to knock lightly on the door. your hear a warm ‘coming!’ from inside before you’re met with the sight of what you believe is james’ mom. her face visibly drops as she sees the state you're in. 

“oh dearie, what happened to you?” she asks but you don’t answer as she ushers you in. she sits you at the large dining table as she ushers around the kitchen, she comes back a few minutes later with a steaming cup of vanilla-something tea. you graciously accept the tea, blowing before taking a scalding sip and warming your hands on the cup, your gaze trained down. you freeze as you hear footsteps and familiar voices coming down the stairs. james and sirius turn to see who euphemia’s guest is, only to see your mussed hair and blotchy face. your undereyes are defined in dark circles and swollen. you wipe your nose with the back of your hand as you look down at your lap.

“..(y/n)?” sirius asks, his voice soft. 

“you’re the (y/n) sirius hasn't stopped talking about? no wonder you came here dearie.” euphemia says, “you can stay as long as you need, honey.” she says as she gets up, ushering james out of the room, telling him to make up a guest room, ultimately giving you and sirius space.

sirius moves swiftly to crouch beside you, he raises his hand tenderly to cup your jaw before turning you to look at him. “what happened, sweetheart?”

oh, that name.

your eyes well up again, “got kicked out..” you manage a grief-stricken laugh. his thumb swipes across your cheek. 

“lucius told my parents about us and,” you hiccup, and continue in a softer voice, “i didn't know where else to go..”

his is hands move to wrap around your body, pulling you into a secure hug. “i’m glad you came, love.” 

you bury your face in his shoulder, letting your tears soak his sweater. 

he pulls himself away for a moment, running his hand through your hair to push them away from your face. “i swore to myself as soon as i could i’d explain.”

your eyes meet his but you stay silent, too tired to say anything.

“it did start out as a prank, our.. relationship, i will not lie to you, but the first day i talked to you i had already fallen for you. when you tried to stifle your laugh at my name for lucius, i wanted you to laugh at me forever.”

“malicious suits pretty well, though, huh.” you chuckle sadly, you're voice sore from disuse and tears. 

“i did truly fall for you, (y/n), none of my actions were ungenuine.” he says as he moves to cup your face again. “please believe me when i say, you will never know how sorry and upset with myself i am for hurting you.”

your swollen, tear-stained face smiled at him. you lifted your hand to tuck a curl behind his ear, “there’s no need to apologize, sirius. I was a bit dramatic..” 

“no, you weren’t, love. I should have told you, or just not done it at all.” he vindicates you. “i never want to hurt you again.”

“i trust you, sirius.” you say softly. he looks up into your eyes, his gaze flitting down to your lips briefly. you lean down and kiss him tenderly.

your lips taste of salt and vanilla but he pays no mind. he pulls away before caressing your face once more.

he stands, placing a kiss on the top of your forehead. “let’s get you some sleep, love.”

—

taglist — @hunnybunimdun @wildieflower @ell0ra-br3kk3r @diqldrunk @lazydreamer19 @masivechaos @imabee-oralizard @garfieldsladybird @nonamedauthor

[carionto]

What comes down, must go up

For the vast majority of tools, specialization is the way to go. From the smallest cooking utensils to intergalactic habitation stations, when it is designed from the core out with a specific purpose in mind, it will perform exceptionally well if you stick with the plan.

Most of Humanity does not appear to agree. Now, they certainly do have and use plenty of highly advanced tools that can only function in one way (their dinosaur research space station that recently oriented itself around a Deathworld being a prime example), but a surprising number of seemingly precision tools are used in a myriad of unconventional ways.

Like, we've seen a fork used as a makeshift holder for yarn spinning, as a fishing tool after some minor modifications (bending and tying to some string), as well as in a performance after adding these things they call googly eyes. Or the infinitely complex subatomic splitter whose sole purpose is to reduce an atom from one element to a smaller one in a non-explosive way - it uses concentrated light emitters to achieve this. One Human configured it into a tattoo device.

In fact, we suspect Humans deliberately attempt to find as many uses for a single tool as possible, even when, and sometimes because (out of spite, perhaps?), another tool that does that thing already exists.

Their spacecraft are no exception. Those behemoths might even be the focus of maximizing adaptability for as many scenarios as they can possibly think of.

For starters - ALL of them are rated for atmosphere entry and capable of FOUR TIMES Earth standard gravity lift off. Including their largest planned vessels yet - the Colony Ships. The SMALLEST design will be TWENTY EIGHT KILOMETERS LONG and average height/width of SIX KILOMETERS. And they themselves don't even know how big their biggest will be, they just said:

"Eh, whatever will feel right at the time."

As for why everything HAS to be able to land AND take off even though it literally at least triples the mass of each ship, necessitating what we view as a massive waste of resources:

"If the planet turns out to be kinda... meh, the colonists will be able to pack up and try again with the same ship. C'mon, gotta think ahead with these things."

Not only that, but we also learned most are able to SUBMERGE AND WITHSTAND A KPA OF 142'000! The military grade ones are even tougher than that! They could dip inside gas giants and not be torn apart!

Wait...

[scanning Jupiter]

Please no...

[confirmation beep]

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE! THEY'RE HIDING INSIDE A STORM!

[pedge-page]

Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous. 

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day. 

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will. 

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed. 

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug. 

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior. 

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.��

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

-

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length. 

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

 He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now. 

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you. 

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other. 

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother. 

 You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

-

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside. 

Twins. you're having fucking twins. 

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you. 

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy. 

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again? 

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“ 

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length. 

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink. 

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted. 

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel. 

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats. 

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close. 

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly. 

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him. 

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet. 

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him. 

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you. 

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties. 

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek. 

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

 "I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

 “Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp. 

"... I just want... more.”  

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either. 

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children. 

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away. 

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching. 

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after. 

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all. 

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome. 

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

 It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time. 

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway.  “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place. 

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes  your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife. 

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

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