#while over here you take guests to the living room for an hour before giving them a cup of coffee

[thatlittledandere]

I love learning about regional differences within countries or even regions. It's an American internet so even I know that New Yorkers are on a whole 'nother level of exceptionalism and being from Brooklyn specifically Means Something. Tell me, how does the rest of Brazil feel about people from Rio? What sets the Quebecuois apart, aside from speaking French? Does South Africa have stereotypes about people speaking all the different languages they have? Does being closer to North or South America mean something in Mexico? Italy hasn't been one cohesive country for very long, how shattered is it still? Etc etc etc tell me about regional stereotypes in your dear homeland Ethiopia make it a fight if you have to. I want to HEAR

[captainsophiestark]

Unexpected Guest

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

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

Fandom: DC

Summary: Dating a vigilante sometimes leads to a few false alarm scares, but Dick Grayson couldn't be happier with how well his partner rolls with his crazy family.

Word Count: 1,410

Category: Fluff

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

Crash!

My eyes shot open at the sound of a noise from the living room of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Dick Grayson. The man in question still snored peacefully next to me, annoyingly, but a quick glance at the clock told me why. It wasn't quite 5am, and Dick had been out patrolling until one in the morning. I listened carefully for any other noises in the apartment. I didn't want to wake my poor boyfriend up unless I absolutely had to.

After a few minutes of nothing, I heard another crash followed by a tense voice and what sounded like hushed swearing. This time, I didn't hesitate to roll over and whack Dick on the chest, hard.

His eyes shot open and he was half sitting up when I managed to throw a hand over his mouth to keep him from giving away that we were awake. My wide eyes must've tipped him off to something being wrong, because I immediately saw him shift from sleepy to ready for action.

Slowly, I dropped my hand from his mouth and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"There's someone in our living room. I heard two crashes and someone swearing."

Dick nodded once, then motioned with his hands while mouthing 'stay here'. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks from where he'd thrown them onto the dresser, then stalked towards the door with catlike grace and stealth. After a minute, I decided I couldn't just let him go alone, superhero or no, so I grabbed the bat I kept by my side of the bed and followed after him.

Dick popped out the door, and after a moment without hearing anything, I followed, bat at the ready. I found my boyfriend with one hand on his hip, weapons down, staring into the kitchen. I followed his gaze to find none other than Jason Todd in our kitchen, a mixing bowl and some eggs in front of him and a look with a significant lack of guilt on his face.

"What? I was after somebody and it dragged me all the way to Bludhaven. I needed a place to crash that was closer than Gotham."

Dick and I both shook our heads. As the oldest of a very high number of siblings, his apartment had become a second home base for every single other batkid. When we'd finally moved in together last month, he'd warned me I needed to be prepared for things like this.

"Glad you know to help yourself, Little Wing," said Dick with a sigh, waving one tired hand to Jason before turning and heading back to bed. I squeezed his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed me, then headed into the kitchen with a smile.

"My tax for you making me think I'd have to fight off an assailant with a bat at five in the morning is my own serving of whatever you're making," I said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. Jason raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're not going back to bed?"

"Nah. Unlike Dick, I got to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour last night, so the adrenaline dump isn't threatening to put me to sleep. I'd rather hang out with you, especially since you're a better cook than Dick and I combined. I'm not missing out on that."

Jason snorted, cracking an egg and resuming his cooking all the same.

"Dick contributes nothing to your combined cooking score," he said. "I'm pretty sure he's burned cereal before."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. He's gotten better though. We watch the Food Network and look up recipes to make together, and I can trust him with way more than I used to be able to."

"If you could teach him anything it'd be a miracle," said Jason with a snort. I just hummed, trying to pick up some new skills of my own as I watched Jason cook.

"To be totally fair to him, I once forgot what I was doing and strained soup because I was on autopilot for pasta."

Jason barked a laugh, unable to hold himself back, and looked at me with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" I nodded. "That's pathetic."

I just shrugged. "Yeah. But at least there's not a lot of places to go but up, after that."

"I guess so."

Jason and I chatted as he cooked and I watched, keeping our voices low so Dick could sleep—although, after the night he'd had, he'd probably sleep through a train in our living room. After breakfast, Jason decided to go down for a nap on the couch, passing out almost as soon as we'd put the last few dishes in the sink. I just smiled, threw a blanket over him, and wandered back into the bedroom to find Dick.

It was late enough in the morning now that my boyfriend was officially up and about, stretching by the bed with his hair still a little messed up from sleeping. I grinned and flopped down against the headboard as he crossed the room to the dresser to pull out clothes.

"How's Jaybird?" he asked. "Still a good cook?"

"Still a great cook. And he's good. He seems a little wiped out from patrols and stuff, though. He's taking a nap on the couch right now."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I get up and he goes to sleep. Typical."

"Clearly he's avoiding you."

"Clearly."

Dick and I shared a smile, and then he sighed.

"I'm going to take a shower. Hopefully Jason will be up by the time I'm out, because I actually have things to do today."

I smiled, shifting on the bed to pull the covers over myself. "I'm sure you can be quiet if he's not. Wake me up when you're out of the shower, okay? A post-breakfast nap sounds too good to resist right now."

My boyfriend laughed. "Alright, will do. I'll wake you and Jason up when I'm out."

"Mhm. Good luck with him."

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."

I closed my eyes, getting comfortable and ready for my nap, but before I drifted off I heard Dick's shuffling footsteps crossing the room to stand by my side of the bed. A second later, he sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. I cracked an eye open to squint at him.

"What do you want?"

He grinned at me and chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to interfere with your nap. I just... I wanted to say how much I appreciate you, and how good you are with my family. They mean the world to me, but I know having vigilantes dropping in at all hours of the day and night can be a little much to deal with. So thank you for being so wonderful about it, and about them."

I sighed, sitting all the way up and propping myself up on my hands to look Dick in the eye.

"Dick, I love you. And I love your family. Sure, it took a little getting used to some of the vigilante stuff, but the longer I know them the more I love them. You don't have to thank me for anything. They're my family too."

Dick absolutely beamed at me, wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me in for a kiss. I immediately reciprocated, tangling one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. I smiled into the kiss and a moment later, Dick deepened it. We were right on the edge of escalating into something more, but both thought better of it at the last moment.

"I should take a shower," he said, still looking a little reluctant as he pulled away.

"Yeah, and you should stop interrupting my nap."

Dick snorted, rolling his eyes as he finally stood and headed for the bathroom. I grinned after him as he went, flopping back down onto my pillow only as Dick closed the bathroom door.

I took a deep breath and sighed, a smile on my face, as I closed my eyes for the second time. I heard the water start in the bathroom, and a faint smell of breakfast still hung in the air. I was surrounded by people I loved dearly, and who loved me right back. No matter the scare Jason had given me when he'd shown up, I couldn't ask for a better start to my morning than this.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

DC Taglist: @luv-ghostie

[glitterjay]

jay hard thought: dating jay and having sex for the first time after constantly teasing him for months. you guys decided to take it slow but recently you’ve been trying to hint that you’re ready by wearing barely anything to bed, squirming around in his lap during movie night with all ur friends, and bending over 24/7 on purpose. you’re convinced he’s gonna be sweet and soft. but you’ve pushed his buttons and caused him to snap so he fucks you rough and calls you a slut who needs to stop being so bratty. he cream pies you multiple times and then the next morning he eats your pussy for hours as a sorry 🤭

yall are something and i want some of that something too

warnings: 18+ content, MDI! jay x afab!reader, unprotected sex, cream pie lmk if i miss something

author’s note: wow. i have been so busy with uni and work that it feels like i completely forgot how to write. im sorry in advance if this is shitty

it had become a constant thing and ー to jay’s dismay ー a habit of yours to constantly tease him. a new fresh relationship had started for the both of you, and despite the very noticeable sexual tension in the air, you both agreed to take it slow and steady. was this part of a plan? absolutely. who were you to deny that seeing jay contain himself didnt turn you on? the way he bit his lip, or how he would excuse himself sometimes while you hung out with friends became an addiction for you. and here you were once again, only wearing one of his white t shirts to bed and just that. nothing else. the rest of the boys were spread around the house, in the guest room and living room, and you knew that if you only wore one of jay’s shirt, he would go nuts. and he did.

“what the hell is wrong with you!? just wearing one of my shirts with a house full of boys? are you crazy!?”

you were disappointed that he didnt do much other than scolding you, but oh were you so wrong. accepting your failure, you closed your eyes and gave your back to him. you kept the shirt, but the only condition was that you could not walk out of the room in just that. closing your eyes and getting ready to doze of, you felt a tingling sensation on your thighs. ignoring it, you kept trying to go to your dreamland, but the sensation started making its way up your legs. you opened one eye to see your boyfriend’s hands making circles on your skin. it was not new for jay to give you sweet caresses before sleeping, but they felt different this time.

in one sudden movement, a gasp left your mouth as his cold hand found your core. you tried to push him away, eyes now wide open, but it was impossible. his other hand held your body against the bed, and he was strong enough to not budge an inch. “you should’ve thought about the consequences of not wearing anything to bed.” his voice was way raspier than usual, and you could sense a different feeling from his eyes. it made you excited, but you also knew that jay was a softie inside.

your train of thoughts had stopped when something slammed into you. you screamed at the pain, quickly putting your hand over your mouth. he was balls deep in you, not moving, just standing there staring down at you. once again, he had thrusted into you harshly, still no preparation at all. the stinging made your eyes water, but it soon started melting with the pleasure of every thrust. you had never seen this side of your boyfriends but god were you loving it.

soon enough you started watching stars around the room. jay kept a fast, harsh, and steady pace, already making you come undone various times. but him? he had enough self control to hold his own release for a long time. just as you were about to reach your fourth high, you felt something warm inside of you. it felt like a whole hose had been turned on and warm water came out of it rapidly. the feeling was enough for you to release your own orgasm, making the juices mix and drip out of your pussy.

“this is what slutty and petty girls get when they tease their boyfriends”

[muwapsturniolo]

✯FreshLove for the fit PT4 ✯

pt1 pt2 pt3 mww1 mww2 mww3 mww4

summary: Chris joins his girlfriend while streaming.

warnings: NSFW CONTENT. making out, fingering, pussy slapping, facial slapping, oral (m receiving), sex. dom! Chris, vibrator, live streaming. if I forgot anything let me know.

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Chris grunts as Y/n tries to get off his lap, using his hands to keep her in place. The two were in her living room on the couch, making out for what felt like hours. They have been dating for a few months now, keeping their relationship a secret from socials and certain friends.

"Chris, I told you I can't be with you all day, I have to work."

Work, aka streaming.

Chris isn't oblivious to her line of work, that's how they met and started dating. He didn't care about it, in fact he loved it. He would occasionally watch her streams, getting off to her moans and the way her body moved.

"Go do your stream then, I'll wait right here."

Y/n huffs at his stubbornness. She wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of her job, she loved it, but she was all about respect. She didn't want to make Chris uncomfortable in any way shape or form. She raised her prices for personal sessions, she only streamed at night, and she made it clear to Chris to tell her if he started getting uncomfortable.

"Chris... I'm not leaving you in my living room while I stream." He shrugs and starts rubbing small circles on her hips, looking over her body. She was wearing one of his shirts that she cropped herself, underboob showing. She had on the tiniest pair of shorts, the orange material leaving little to imagine.

"Well I want to spend time with you, I have the next two days free and I told you I was spending them with you." He begins to kiss along her neck, her hair tickling his face slightly. She cranes her head to the side, giving him more space to leave the incoming hickies.

She doesn't want this to stop, if she could ditch this stream, she would in a heartbeat, but she knew she needed to do her job. Suddenly, an idea, a bold one, pops into her head.

"You wanna watch?"

Chris stops kissing at her neck, pulling away to get a good look at her. "What do you mean? like on my phone?"

She moves off his lap, walking towards the stairs. "No, I mean in person."

"You'll let me?'' She notices the glimmer in his eye and says nothing, ascending up the stairs. Chris flies off the couch, racing up the stairs to reach her. She's standing in front of a door Chris has eyed multiple times.

Every time he came over, the door was locked, the key never to be found. She unlocks the door and walks inside, Chris following close behind her.

He recognizes the room immediately, it's her streaming room. his heart begins to race as he looks around.

Y/n moves around the room, getting everything set up for the long stream ahead of her. After a few minutes, she walks over to Chris and pushes him down in a chair that's out of view from the camera. "Sit here and don't move. Don't even make a noise," she demands. Chris smirks, sinking down further into the chair, "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes and walks over to the bed, yelping when Chris lands a firm smack on her ass. She turns and gives him a dirty look which he just smiles at. She huffs and hops into the endless amounts of pillows.

She grabs the sparkly keyboard and taps away, loading up the stream. He watches as the monitor lights up and comments roll in.

"Hi everyone," he notices her voice is softer, much like the first time they talked. Her eyes scan the monitor, soft giggles escaping her mouth. "The hickies?" She eyes Chris before looking back at the camera.

"I have a special guest with me today, he won't be participating but he's watching." She pushes the keyboard away and swaps it out for a pillow, purposely hugging it close so her boobs are pushed up.

The stream continues, her chatting with the viewers about random things, talking about her day, etc. "You want me to take my shirt off?" she hums and begins to fiddle with the orange Freshlove shirt. "You guys know the rules"

Like clockwork, her phone blows up with multiple payment notifications. Chris is shocked seeing the payments roll in, he knew she got paid, but not this much.

She lets go of the pillow and slowly takes her shirt off, her boobs rippling slightly. Chris sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting his hips.

Chris is hard, painfully hard.

His girlfriend is sitting a few feet away from him, naked, and teasing both him and the audience, yet he can't do anything about it. Every once in a while she would tweak her nipples, talk about a new vibrator she bought, and even going as far as opening her legs slightly, showing the slick covering her folds, all while eyeing Chris deviously.

This was torture.

"I want to play now, you guys are no fun." She bats her lashes, pouting at the camera. She suddenly grabs a vibrator from the side of the bed and smiles. She turns it on and trails it over her body, teasing herself and the stream. She eyes Chris once again before turning back to the screen, "I think I'm going to be nice today."

She leans back, propping her legs up and showing off her glistening cunt. She puts the vibrator on her clit and immediately throws her head back in relief. She had a bunch of pent-up tension from her and Chris previously making out, and now it's being handled.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he watches her play with herself. Of course he's seen her masturbate through a phone, but seeing it in person is a different type of feeling. His hand slips into his sweats, stroking his aching member in an attempt to relieve the pain. He bites his lip, suppressing the groan wanting to spill out of his mouth, his hand moving faster.

His dick is throbbing at this point, leaking precum and pulsing under his touch. he watches with hungry eyes as his girl shows off in front of the camera.

"Mmf fuck!" She moans throwing her head back and grinding against the vibrator.

He can't handle it.

"fuck it"

He jumps up and rushes over to the bed, wrapping his hand around her throat and yanking her into a lustful kiss. She's in shock but doesn't fight it, both of them forgetting they are on a live stream. "You're working me baby, having me sit there and watch you play with yourself like a little whore." He growls as he pulls away from her. He removes his hand from her neck and grabs ahold of her hair, slapping her firmly. She whimpers but doesn't back out, "You gonna make it up to me?" She nods eagerly, always excited to please him. He grins at her, shoving her face in his crotch, "Go ahead ma, make it up to me."

Her hands move quickly, pulling his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach, aching to be engulfed in her warm mouth. She grabs it by the base, slowly stroking it as she rubs the tip against her puckered lips. His precum glossing the soft pillows.

Chris yanks her hair harder than the first time, slapping her once again and starting to brutally fuck her mouth., "Stop fucking playing with me." She gags and chokes around him, tears running down her face and mixing in with the spit pooling out her mouth, mixing with the spit bubbles.

The chat goes wild seeing their favorite cam girl getting throat fucked by her boyfriend. They haven't seen her collaborate with an actual guy in so long, they were feining for it. They were sending in payments like crazy, her phone constantly buzzing.

She tries to slow him down, but it's no use. He goes even harder, making it a mission to bruise her throat.

"Come on, be a good girl and take it. I know you can." He pants as he feels himself getting close. He stalls in her throat, letting out deep and raspy groans as his hot seed spills into her throat. She looks up at him through salty tears, her body lurching due to her gag reflex. He pulls out of her throat, giving her no time to breathe, before he pulls her into a hungry kiss, not caring about his own cum being pushed into his mouth.

He pushes her back harshly, settling down behind her. He slaps her pussy a few times making her whimper and whine. He stops and runs his fingers through her folds, gathering her slick, "Look at you, making a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet."

He slaps her pussy once again making her close her legs, "Keep 'em fucking open. You want to show off like a whore, I'll treat you like one." He pushes her legs open, grabbing the vibrator that was discarded on the side of the bed. He turns it on and presses it on her clit, making her throw her head back onto his shoulder. He snakes his other arm around her front and sinks his fingers deep into her cunt.

Her back arches against his, her eyes fluttering shut. "You love this, don't you? You love being treated like a whore?" He grunts in her ear, his fingers moving faster.

"Answer me Ma, you like being my whore?" The lewd squelching noises and vibrations fill the room. "Fucckk! I love being you whore!" she answers, her hips chasing both the vibrations and his fingers. He hums and kisses along her neck, still driving his fingers in and out of her.

He turns the vibrator up by two settings, watching as her legs begin to shake, her toes curling.

"Oh fuck Chris!" She looks down and watches his fingers pump in and out of her, the cream pooling on the slender digits.

She feels herself getting close, dangerously close. She tries to pull it away but Chris stops her, holding her body and the vibrator in place. "Come on baby, don't be so shy. Show them what you do," he whispers in her ear, urging her to show her viewers his favorite action of hers.

She has never shown her stream that she could squirt, keeping it a secret, and now she's being forced to. He curls his fingers and that's the breaking point. She lets out a mix of a moan and a scream. Chris pulls the vibrator away, using his fingers that were once pumping in and out of her to swipe back and forth across her clit, aiding in pushing the liquid out. Her hips lift off the bed as her juices splash in front of them, landing on the pink blankets and monitor.

The chat blows up seeing her squirt for the first time, urging Chris to keep giving them a show of a lifetime.

He pulls his hand away, shoving his soaked fingers into her mouth. She gags but proceeds to lick his fingers clean, knowing their routine like the back of her hand. "good girl," he says pulling his fingers away from her mouth.

She has no time to recover due to Chris pushing her down face-first into the mattress. He lifts her waist, positioning her exactly how he wants her. Without warning, he slips inside of her. Her velvety walls suck him up just right, taking him in with no problem. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her body jolting with each harsh thrust Chris throws at her.

She tries to pull away from him, everything becoming too intense. "Don't run from me, you know I hate it." He grabs her waist and yanks her back, going even deeper and faster. "fuck fuck fuck I ca-" she reaches back and tries to push him away, angering him even more. He grabs her arm and holds it against her back, using it as an anchor to drive his body into hers. Her body falls onto the bed, Chris now lying on top of her, plowing relentlessly. He wraps his hand around her throat, forcing her head up. He smiles seeing the tears running down her face, "Aww, is it too much for you?" He taunts as he switches his pace, opting for slow and hard thrusts that would knock the wind out of her lungs. She's unable to speak, only being able to make a noise. He wraps his arm around her neck, squeezing slightly and watching as she goes cross-eyed, drool beginning to run out of her mouth.

With the deep thrusts that were already knocking the air from her lungs, and her oxygen supply being cut off, she's over the moon. She looks into the camera, giving a wide and fucked out smile that shows she's loving every second of it.

"You can handle it, I know you can. Be a good girl and cum for me." He whispers in her ear, still pounding his hips into her. Her eyes roll back as her body convulsed under him, reaching her high once again. He groans feeling her walls clamp down on him, begging him to stay inside her. He kisses her shoulder blade as he pulls out, a popping noise being heard. He flips her onto her back, grabbing her jaw harshly, "You gonna give me one more?" The girl is so fucked out and delirious, she doesn't answer.

He gives her a swift slap to the face that makes her moan. He smirks and lets go of her jaw, pushing her legs to her chest and slipping back inside of her with ease. Her back arches off the bed, a wheezing noise being heard from her. He wastes no time and ruthlessly pounds into her, enjoying the way she mumbles incoherently.

The creamy residue sits at the base of his dick, some of it flying and landing on the back of her thighs and his abdomen from the thrusts. He could never get tired of the sight, it was something about visually seeing their pleasure that drove him to keep going.

Y/n feels like she's about to pass out. Of course she has done streams where she has gotten fucked or overstimulated herself, but not like this. She usually had time to cool down so her stamina didn't run out, but with Chris it was different, and she loved it. chris was always ready to pleasure her back to back, pushing her to her limits, and leaving her shaking, fucked out, and pleading for more.

Chris feels his second high of the night approaching. In reality, it's been there the whole time but he refused to let go until Y/n was damn near passed out underneath him. He hooks his arms under her legs, going underneath her, and lifts her off the bed, beginning to jackhammer.

She lets out a scream, this new angle making her see stars, her sobs and moans bouncing off of the room. Chris has never fucked her while standing up, hell she was never fucked in this position in general. "Almost there, just a few more," he encourages as he drops her to the bed, pushing her legs to the side of her head, his pelvis meeting hers.

Their bodies bounce up and down on the bed, his dick reaching the deepest it could go, even hitting her cervix at times. She's holding on to his back, raking her acrylic nails down the soft skin.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" She finally finds her voice to speak the four words. "Come on baby, I'm right there."

He rubs circles on her clit, driving her to her high. Her back arches off the bed, her body shaking as if an exorcism was being performed. Chris stalls his hips deep inside of her, painting her walls a milky white as he groans in her ear.

Y/n lays there, holding Chris with closed eyes and panting. Chris turns and looks at the monitor, reading a few comments as he comes down from his high.

"Isn't that Chris Sturniolo?"

That comment makes him freeze, his actions suddenly hitting him. He quickly stands up from the bed, pulling out of Y/n harshly. She whimpers from the sudden movement, her body sore and tired.

Chris quickly pulls on his boxers, darting toward her computer in the corner. His eyes dart across the screen, looking for the end button. He finds it and abruptly ends the stream, his heart pounding

He turns hearing Y/n whine. He walks over to her and picks her up, carrying her out of the room, and to her own bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up ok?" He mumbles looking down at her. She hums, allowing him to set her down on her bed.

As he runs the bathwater for Y/n, he only has one thought going through his head.

"I fucked up."

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I'M SO SORRY THIS FIC TOOK 40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS TO BE PUT OUT😭 I JUST HAVE BAD WRITERS BLOCK WHEN IT COMES TO THIS FIC SPECIFICALLY!!! BUT THIS SERIES IS MY BABY CUZ I FEEL LIKE IT WAS THE ONE YALL ATE UP WHEN I FIRST STARTED POSTING SO I HAD TO BRING IT UP FOR THE ONE TIME!!!

THIS IS (finally) THE END OF MUWAP WEEK!!! THANK YOU FOR TUNNING IN!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

XOXO, PEACHES 🍑

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @cassiopeialunax @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity

[ninety-two-bees]

happy birthday, james potter

jegulus microfic | 861 words | age gap + parenting au

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Regulus has never baked a cake before, and he’s not sure why he believed today would be the perfect day to learn. There are already a handful of failed attempts scattered across James’ kitchen. Some of them are…edible, but none of them are perfect. James deserves perfect on his birthday.

Technically Regulus isn’t supposed to be here at all. He’s supposed to be in class while James is at the museum with Harry, but taking one day off to treat his boyfriend on his birthday can’t do any harm, right? The countertops are almost entirely hidden by spilled ingredients and empty packages, but he finds space and perches on the counter with a mixing bowl in his arms.

The last batter was too thick, and this one seems suspiciously too runny, but he has no idea how to fix it. He even went as far as to call Barty and Evan, then Remus and Sirius—all of whom were entirely unhelpful. And now James’ kitchen is a mess.

Before he has a chance to put the next batch of cake mix in the oven, or even think about cleaning up, he hears the front door open and freezes in place. James is home.

Harry makes it to the kitchen first, walking right up to where Regulus is sitting and staring up with that wide bug-eyed stare Regulus has gotten so used to in the past year.

“Hi, buddy. Where’s your dad?” he asks, climbing off the countertop and swapping the mixing bowl out to pick Harry up instead. When Harry points over Regulus’ shoulder, he freezes up all over again.

“Please don’t be mad,” he begs softly, not daring to turn around to face James. His boyfriend has never been angry with him before, but there’s a first time for everything, right? And knowing Regulus’ luck, he has probably ruined James’ entire birthday.

James doesn’t say anything, but only a moment passes before Regulus feels familiar arms around his waist and a comforting chest against his back. He leans into James’ embrace instantly, struggling to fight off a smile as Harry wraps his arms around him too. This is his favourite place to be—in the arms of his family.

“Why would I be mad, baby?” James mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of Regulus’ head. “You made cake!”

“I made a mess,” Regulus points out with a soft laugh.

One of the agreements within their relationship is that Regulus isn’t allowed to spend money on James until he finishes his degree and goes back to working full-time. It’s done wonders for the health of the bond between them, but Regulus still wanted to offer James something as a gift.

“Harry has made worse messes with much less time. We can clean it up together,” James insists. He lets go of Regulus as Regulus lowers Harry to the ground, and the two of them—three, if he counts Harry “helping”—make quick work of the baking disaster.

═══════☆═══════

Hours pass, all of which Regulus spends no more than a few feet away from James. They decorate the house together for his birthday, drop Harry off with his grandparents for the night, and kill the last bit of time before the party breaking in James’ new mattress.

“You really are getting old, you know.” Regulus has taken to straddling James’ lap on the living room couch despite the dozens of party guests around them. No matter how popular James is, Regulus knows he will always be at the centre of his boyfriend’s world. It’s as if the rest of the party doesn’t exist.

“I’m still a couple of years off forty! I’ve still got some youth left in me,” James argues. “And in fifteen years, when you’re this age, you’ll be saying the exact same thing.”

With laughter spilling from his lips, Regulus drops his head onto James’ chest, allowing James to wrap his arms around him in a warm embrace. If anyone is judging them for the blatant PDA, they don’t say anything

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you anything for your birthday,” he mumbles against James’ neck, eyes fluttering shut as James’ fingers trail up and down the length of his spine.

They had to throw out all of the cakes Regulus attempted to make, and ended up buying one at the nearest supermarket instead. James had insisted that it’s the thought that counts, but Regulus still wishes he had done more.

“There is…one thing you could give me, but it’s entirely up to you.” Regulus lifts his head again, gazing at James with intense curiosity. “Move in with me.”

A moment passes between them, and Regulus is certain his heart beats twice as fast as it ever has before.

“You really mean it?” he whispers, voice laced with trembling disbelief.

“I really mean it,” James promises.

Another moment passes. And then; “Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

One of James’ hands comes up to hold the back of Regulus’ head, and then they’re kissing. It must look as intense as it feels, because someone whistles and a few people laugh just before they pull apart, breathless.

“Happy birthday, Jamie.”

this microfic is based on james and regulus in be good to me (i beg of him) because i missed them <3

[silverskye13]

what if, mayhaps, some awkward only one bed with guish and hels?

"I mean, I can just walk back to the house, it's fine." Tanguish said appeasingly, trying not to wither under Helsknight's unamused glare. "It's fine."

"You're going to walk back alone. At night." Helsknight lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"I mean, it's hels." Tanguish said, scuffing a foot against the ground. "We don't have a day-night cycle."

"We have times where everyone but the thugs and thieves are asleep," Helsknight countered.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor?"

Helsknight gestured broadly around the normally sparse little room. It was a cluttered mess at the moment. Paper, fabric, and sewing supplies tangled with armor and polish in piles across the floor and on the little desk and table, the evidence of a long day spent designing Helsknight's next tournament outfit. It was the reason for their current problem: working far too long into the late (early?) hours. Helsknight's cell had a single bed for just this sort of thing -- which had worked well enough before he'd met Tanguish, and they'd become mostly inseparable.

"Let's lay chivalry, and the fact that you're my guest, aside for a moment," Helsknight snorted. "Where exactly on my floor do you plan on sleeping, pray tell?"

Tanguish felt his ears grow hotter with embarrassment. "I'll... Find someplace. You can't tell me you have absolutely no guest rooms down here?"

"We have absolutely no guest rooms down here."

"Helsknight."

The knight shrugged. "You make a cell when you move in. You leave an empty cell when you go. But it's still your cell, and not a guest room. You wanna pick an empty room and risk the owner coming back while you sleep, feel free. Or you can share the bed."

"Share?"

Helsknight huffed disdainfully. "I'm chivalrous enough to keep you off the floor, not enough to take it myself."

"Doesn't that go against your tenets or something?"

"Surprisingly, my Saint doesn't give two shits about sleeping arrangements." Helsknight flashed him a wolfish grin. "Ask me a question about blood, and I'm sure I can find an answer."

"I'd rather not," Tanguish sighed witheringly. "I just feel bad. It's your bed. You shouldn't be uncomfortable all night just because I'm too lazy to walk across town."

"Point of order, I'm too lazy to walk across town. You offered to." Helsknight clarified, kicking aside a bundle of cloth to clear some walking space to the bed.

"True."

"And you're tiny," Helsknight continued. "Be more concerned about my likelihood of kicking you out of the bed, and snoring in your ear."

"You don't snore?"

"How do you know?"

"We live in the same house?"

Helsknight gave that statement the amount of consideration it deserved (which wasn't much) before sitting down at the foot of the bed and unbuckling his boots. "Do you have a preferred side you sleep on?"

"You're incredibly casual about this," Tanguish observed. He would've been amused, if he didn't think the situation was so awkward. He gave the room one more hesitant look around, as though salvation or a second bed might somehow be found in a corner he hadn't checked yet. When it didn't, he sighed and started unbuttoning his vest.

"I mean, I've crashed with other Colosseum folks before," Helsknight shrugged, discarding one boot onto the cluttered floor and starting on the next. "Especially when I just signed on, and my cell wasn't built yet."

"Oh."

"And I crashed with EB once or twice when he wasn't doing well," he continued, as if to prove a point -- which he probably was. "Worst case scenario, you get the worst sleep of your life, and then it's over, and you're back on the couch tomorrow."

Helsknight tossed his second boot against his first. Then he slipped off his shirt and clambered into bed, content to get comfortable while Tanguish picked his way across the room to the light switch. Tanguish flicked it off, casting the little cell in a hazy half-light, lit by the dimmed lights in the hallway beyond. He stood there for a moment, waiting on Helsknight to give some input about whether the door should be shut or not, and when none came, he left it open and picked his way back across the room.

As gingerly as possible, scared of somehow slipping and elbowing Helsknight, he clambered into the bed. It was very small, and very close. Tanguish wouldn't normally mind (he was also very small, compared to Helsknight) but he was suddenly very aware of how much space wasn't between them. Helsknight radiated warmth like a fireplace, and Tanguish's skin tingled at the almost touching closeness of it, an anticipation. Which was ridiculous, because Helsknight had touched him before -- ruffled his hair, grabbed his hands or arms, put a guiding hand on his back. It was just the oddness of knowing they could touch for no reason. Not a means to an end, or a showing of momentary affection, or a guidance. And it was made worse by the fact he was so small, and he could feel the bed dipping in Helsknight's direction, like if he wasn't careful he would go rolling into him, and that would be weird, right? Helsknight probably wouldn't want them to be squished up against each other. He'd be uncomfortable, and Tanguish would be uncomfortable, and neither of them would get any sleep.

"Tanguish."

"Uhm... yes?"

"You're fidgeting."

"I am?" Tanguish froze. He realized he'd been picking at one of his knuckles, and his tail had been twitching.

"Yes. You are."

"Ah."

"Just breathe, close your eyes, and go to sleep."

"Right."

Tanguish let out a long breath that Helsknight echoed. He closed his eyes. He opened them again. He closed them again, tighter this time. He felt the heat radiating off of Helsknight, so close it made his skin prickle. He felt an itch suddenly spring to life on his ankle, livewire hot and uncomfortable. He wrinkled his nose and stifled the instinct to scratch it, until on reflex his leg twitched, and then he held his breath, waiting on Helsknight to say something about it. Then he sighed and opened his eyes again

"I don't like that the door is open," Tanguish spoke into the silence.

"If we close the door, it'll be pitch black in here," Helsknight groused tiredly, as though Tanguish woke him up. Had he really fallen asleep that fast?

"But anyone could just walk in."

"And if they do, they'll trip on the sewing kit, face-plant into armor polish, and then I'll put a knife in their face."

"A knife?"

"There's one stuck in the bed frame on this side."

"Why?"

"Why not? Go to sleep."

Tanguish realized he was fidgeting again and forced himself to stop. His tail twitched, and he forced it to stop too. He frowned at the open door. He must have frowned very loudly, because suddenly Helsknight sighed and got out of bed. "Switch me."

"We don't have to--"

"Doesn't matter, we're switching."

Feeling his face heat up with embarrassment, Tanguish did as he was told, shuffling over to take Helsknight's place on the bed. It was very warm. The heat left behind from the knight's skin sank into his muscles, almost down to his bones. It felt nice, like curling up beside a furnace -- until Tanguish remembered he was always cold, so his side of the bed would probably be frigid and uncomfortable. Before he could say anything about it though, Helsknight had clambered in to take his spot. He settled in, slipping an arm beneath the pillow and raising an eyebrow at Tanguish.

"Better?"

"Uhm..." Tanguish hugged his arms close to his chest awkwardly. "Shouldn't you... face the other way?"

"I always sleep on this side. If you're uncomfortable, you turn around."

"But this is the side I sleep on?"

"Unfortunate," Helsknight said, in a voice that implied he really couldn't care less. "I guess you'll have to just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Helsknight shrugged, and apparently decided the conversation was over. He stubbornly closed his eyes, and did his best impression of someone who could sleep through an earthquake. Tanguish scowled at him. He turned over onto his other side and tried to go to sleep there, only for discomfort and habit to force him back onto his other side again. He'd sleep, or he wouldn't, or he'd slip into some half-lucid place that was neither. Eventually. For now, he watched Helsknight.

(He wasn't trying to be creepy. It's just that there was nothing else to look at, and he needed to do something besides fidget uncomfortably. He intermittently prayed that Helsknight wouldn't open his eyes and catch him staring, and prayed that watching the smooth, even breaths would somehow inspire sleep in himself.)

Helsknight was backlit dimly by the hallway light beyond, a very gentle halo that defined the strands of his long hair, the contours of his muscles. He somehow managed to look serious, even when he was trying to (succeeding at?) sleep. It was probably just the scars. One of the Demon's claws had slashed between his eyebrows, giving him a look of almost permanent concentration that only lifting his expression dispelled. It was interesting to see where the claws skipped his eyelid, carving a divot on the ridge above his eye and resuming on his cheek, a long, angry line. Tanguish dropped his gaze lower, where more pale scars collected around his shoulders, striped and crossed their way down his arms. There were a few on his chest, a few more that vanished beneath the blankets on his stomach and side. Tanguish found himself drawn to one, a puncture just below his ribs on one side, only a little smaller than the span of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Helsknight asked, breaking the silence so suddenly Tanguish flinched. Then he realized he'd been reaching a hand out to touch the scar, and he crossed his arms tight to his chest, suddenly mortified.

"I'm sorry!"

"You're always sorry," Helsknight muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes. "I asked what you were doing."

"I-- nothing. I was just--"

"Not sleeping."

"Not sleeping..."

Helsknight cracked one of his eyes open to look down at him in something like tired amusement. "Your hands are cold."

"Th-they are." Tanguish agreed, fixing his eyes down on his crossed arms.

"I could feel you close by."

"S-sorry."

Helsknight sighed. He reached out a hand and gently grabbed Tanguish's wrist. His hands were warm. Tanguish could feel it sinking into his joints, every fingertip seeping a soft radiance through his skin. The coldness of the rest of Tanguish's arm by comparison raised goosebumps down his arm. Helsknight gently lead his hand to the scar he'd been reaching for and pressed it against him. His nose wrinkled and he inhaled sharply.

"Very cold."

Tanguish bit down another apology. Instead he asked, "I did this one?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Uhm... sh-should I feel... lucky?"

"Lucky?"

"You have a lot more scars on your arms than here."

Helsknight made a noncommittal noise. "Survival bias."

"What?"

"Someone cuts your arm, you live," Helsknight explained, cracking his eye open again. "Someone gets your chest, your neck -- the vital bits -- you don't scar. Not unless someone's quick with a healing potion."

"... oh."

"That was a compliment."

"It... was?"

"Mm-hmm."

"... how is that a compliment?"

"You did a good job," Helsknight smirked. "Both at the stabbing part and the healing part."

"... uhm... thank you? I guess?"

Helsknight grunted and released his hand. Tanguish recrossed his arms.

"Is that one also a knife...? A knife wound? It looks the same. Similar?"

"Which one?"

Tanguish reached out a hand hesitantly and, when Helsknight didn't stop him, traced a scar with the tip of his claw where it dipped by Helsknight's collar bone. The knight shivered. Tanguish snapped his hand away.

"Sorry!"

Helsknight laughed, a soft rumble that Tanguish thought he could feel all the way down in his toes. He took Tanguish's hand in his again, sword callouses scraping against his knuckles, and let it rest over the scar.

"If I was bothered, I would say so," Helsknight informed him with tired amusement. "It's from a sword. Punched through my chainmail."

Tanguish ran his thumb across the little divot. He tried to imagine the size and shape of the blade that would have left it, but came up short.

"It's so small."

"Mail caught most of it. Bone caught the rest." Helsknight hummed sleepily. "Had a big bruise by the time I was off the field. All red and knotted up."

"Sounds terrifying."

"It was," Helsknight admitted, and Tanguish blinked at him in surprise. "Couldn't lift my arm. Couldn't move it at all, really. It was uhm... the first time my body failed me mid-fight."

"... but you won?"

"But I won."

Tanguish moved his hand away from that scar to another, a raised crescent that fish-hooked its way along a rib.

"What about this one?"

"Jousting."

"Jousting?"

"The lance clipped my side, dragged a broken link from my mail back with it. It curves down like that because I stood up in the stirrups." Helsknight ran his tongue across his teeth. "Almost unseated both of us, but I managed to keep my saddle."

"So...?"

"So I won."

"Did you get any of these from losing?"

Helsknight thought about that for a moment, opening tired eyes to look down at himself. He frowned. "Yeah. One. You don't want to hear about it."

"That bad?"

"Very bad."

Helsknight took his hand and led it to his stomach, where a pair of thin gashes snaked across to his side. The positioning was lost on Tanguish. He didn't know enough about how the body worked to know what a wound like that might look or bleed like. All he knew was, even though Helsknight led him there, the knight flinched uncomfortably when he touched it, like just the suggestion of claws on the old wound made him feel vulnerable.

"Do I not want to hear about it," Tanguish asked, "or are you scared to tell me?"

"I'm not scared." Helsknight scowled.

"Sorry that's not--! I didn't mean... it's not... cowardly," Tanguish corrected, brushing his thumb along the scar again and watching the discomfort bloom on Helsknight's face. "I mean... are you scared I'm going to judge you? Or are you scared of reliving it?"

"It's not a scar I got pridefully," Helsknight said after a long, thoughtful moment.

"Because you lost?"

Helsknight hesitated. Finally he settled on, "It would have been a bad death."

"Uhm... can I ask what that means?"

"Dying badly is... uhm. I don't know. Hard to describe."

"Unglorious?"

"More like... pointless."

"How can a death in the Colosseum be pointless?"

Helsknight made a sour expression, like there was a bad taste in his mouth. "It's... needlessly messy? And painful. It's supposed to be quick and thrilling and... not... painless. But there shouldn't be suffering. It's the same reason we don't use fire enchants anymore. No glory is worth burning to death in front of thousands of people."

Tanguish frowned. "All of these scars were pain once. Is the only difference that they weren't fatal?"

"The difference is they meant something." Helsknight hummed. He took Tanguish's hand in his. He led him to the hooked scar on his ribs.

"This taught me that even a glancing blow can be dangerous."

To the divot on his collar bone.

"This taught me my body has limits. Some wounds can't be powered through."

He drew Tanguish's hand up to his face, pressing his cold fingers against the claw-mark scar. "This taught me my experience doesn't make me invincible."

Helsknight released Tanguish's hand. "A bad death is... it's pain without lesson. Suffering without growth. Horror without change. Pointless."

They lay in silence long enough that Tanguish wondered if Helsknight might have fallen asleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and even, his eyes closed in his quiet frown. Tanguish hugged his arms to his chest and watched him breathe. He mapped and remapped the claw scars on Helsknight's face, traced the divot on his collar bone with his eyes, catalogued what he could see of the constellation of harms on his forearms.

Finally, his voice a whisper, Tanguish asked, "Was this a bad death?"

He reached forward and pressed his thumb against the knife scar beneath Helsknight's ribs. Helsknight's breath hitched against the cold of his touch, and Tanguish wished, for not the first time, that ice wasn't such a strong presence in him. Helsknight blinked his eyes open, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he reached forward and pressed a hand against Tanguish's abdomen, the heat of his hand searing the invisible line the Demon's axe had carved.

"Was this?" he asked.

"That's... that's different," Tanguish stammered.

"Why?"

"You didn't do it."

"And if I had?" Helsknight asked quietly. "What if I were fighting the Demon, and grazed you by accident."

"It's-- you didn't. I pushed you out of the way. I did this to myself."

"I don't think the wounds are so different." Helsknight flashed him a tired, insufferable smirk. "You were aiming for Wels, and I got in the way. And I did learn something."

"You... did...?"

"I think I'd rather die than see you hurt."

Tanguish momentarily forgot to breathe. By the time he remembered, Helsknight had wrapped his hand around his, and moved it away from any scars. He held it between them, one massive hand swallowing Tanguish's own in quiet, steadfast warmth.

"You're..." (Tanguish lost all words.) "... insufferable."

"Thank you. Go to sleep Tanguish."

Tanguish nodded. Helsknight grunted his approval, and with enviable swiftness, dropped off into sleep. Tanguish lay awake for several more minutes, reaching his other hand up to tentatively wrap it around the knight's, his two delicate hands cupped around a strong, sword-calloused fist. He curled up there, his forehead pressed to the gathered knuckles.

(What did I do to deserve him?) he asked the universe as loudly as he dared. (How do I stay worth him?)

The universe didn't answer. He wasn't sure the universe knew how to answer questions like that. A feeling came to Tanguish, though, like fear in the way it filled him, swelling grand in his chest. It was like tears in its swiftness. Unexpected and full to overflowing. It was neither of those things. It was buoyant where they were heavy. Bright where they were dark. It was a feeling he would try to put a name to later, when he was no longer tired and thinking in primary colors. The root of devotion, the desire to return it. Simple. Right.

For now, though, Tanguish slept.

[cheshiresense]

[From Here]

Dithered over which pov to write next, figured I’d try Yuzu.

-0-

When Yuzu gets a phone call from Ichigo that they would be having two guests for dinner tonight, she is delighted. In all the years she’s known him, her brother has only ever introduced one person to them as something of a friend. Mizuiro is half a sibling at this point, trusted enough to be around them even when Ichigo isn’t, but before him, and after him, nobody else has ever caught Ichigo’s eye enough to warrant an actual invitation to dine with their family.

“They’re related to ghost stuff,” Ichigo adds bluntly, and Yuzu understands that to mean that these two will at least be tougher than the average yakuza on the street, even if they can’t match up to her brother.

“I understand!” She chirps back cheerfully. “I’ll let Karin know. I can’t wait to meet them!”

Then she hangs up, rolls up her sleeves, and gets to work in the kitchen. No guests of her brother’s will ever accuse them of being ungracious hosts on her watch.

(Karin comes home from soccer practice half an hour later. She laughs, as Yuzu does, when Yuzu tells her of their impending guests.)

-0-

Two hours later, Yuzu is putting the finishing touches on the meal when the sound of the door being unlocked carries through the apartment.

"Welcome home, Onii-chan!" She calls out, plating the last dish before carrying it over to the dining table. "Dinner's ready!"

She can hear Karin leaving their bedroom and coming down the hall on deliberately heavy footsteps. She appears just as Ichigo comes in from the front, Mizuiro a step behind him, with two men bringing up the rear, vaguely middle-aged at first glance, younger at the second, and then just ageless the more you stare.

They're tall, is Yuzu's first thought, but everybody's tall from her perspective. Still, they're taller than Ichigo, especially the one in the very back, and bigger too, even if they've got that same elegant dancer's gait her brother walks with, the one that whispers danger in the hindbrain even to those who don't know what to look for. They're also both blond, one darker than the other, but both with hair that nearly reach their shoulders. One wears modern clothing, the other more traditional, and one is empty-handed while the other carries a cane, but both of them take in the whole room in one calculating sweep that misses nothing. And they're both already smiling politely as they walk in, one with a harmless playful edge, the other with a harmless mysterious air, but both as fake as each other.

Yuzu exchanges a glance with Karin just to check she's not seeing things. Karin gives her the eyebrows that means she's noticed too.

Mizuiro had given off a far less dangerous aura when Ichigo had first brought him home. And he still feels much less threatening than these men now, no matter how much Guest One and Guest Two are probably trying to play it down. But back then, Mizuiro had also come in with sharp eyes and a guileless skin-deep smile, and that at least is exactly the same.

Their big brother sure does have a type. Yuzu sometimes wonders if Ichigo goes out and picks the most suspicious and unsettling people he can find to entertain him, or if he just somehow attracts them with his innate charm.

"My sisters, Karin, and Yuzu," Ichigo introduces without suspense, then jabs a thumb at Mizuiro. "And Mizuiro lives next door but he eats with us when we're here."

Then he gestures at the two men. "This is Hirako Shinji and Urahara Kisuke." He pauses for a brief half-second, and his eyes flash gold in Yuzu's, and Karin's, direction. "Hirako's a bit like me." He pauses again, and a funny half-smile hitches at one corner of his mouth. "They both are actually."

He says nothing else, so Yuzu takes that as her cue to sketch a neat half-bow paired with a bright smile. "Hello! It's nice to meet you!"

Beside her, Karin parrots the motion, if in a more perfunctory manner, but they weren't raised in a cave, so they know how to be courteous.

The men murmur back their own greetings even as their gazes shift back and forth between them and their brother like they're trying to pick up on a second unspoken conversation, but it's not as if there's anything for them to hear either way.

It's just that the introduction was short, names and little else, so Yuzu knows that they're equally untrustworthy, which makes sense because Ichigo couldn't have known them for more than a week or two. But the little else he'd tacked on had been a sign as well— not just that they're like him in some ways, in different ways, but also that Ichigo likes Hirako more than Urahara. Nevertheless, the fact that he'd brought them here at all means that they're interesting enough to make them both tolerable.

Yuzu understands, as does Karin, but they give no indication of it as everyone shuffles around to wash their hands, and Yuzu quickly scoops out a bowl of rice each for everyone in attendance.

"Onii-chan never invites anybody over, so I made a lot of extra food today," Yuzu tells them happily. "Please eat as much as you want!"

"Everythin' looks delicious," The darker blond, Hirako, grins at her, and this time, the expression seems more genuine. At the very least, it gives her a warmer feeling than the other blond, Urahara, who also smiles and trills agreement but radiates more distance than an overseas phone call.

Everyone settles around the dining table, although Mizuiro spares a moment to pull an exaggerated moue of aggrievement. "Never invites anybody over? Have I been forgotten, Yuzu-chan?"

Karin rolls her eyes while Yuzu giggles merrily. "You don't count, Mizuiro-nii-chan. You already eat with us almost every day anyway."

Mizuiro drops the act in favour of a smirk, though he looks pleased too, to be counted as family, as if the novelty of it still hasn't worn off. To be fair, it had taken a whole six months before Ichigo had been willing to leave him in the same vicinity as Yuzu and Karin on their own, and Yuzu knows that being trusted like that by her brother is no small feat.

Conversation drops as everybody begins digging in, and Yuzu lets her gaze drift casually over to their guests as they too pick up their bowls and chopsticks.

It's Urahara she lingers on first because he's the one who lifts his bowl to his mouth, only to stop at the last second, chopsticks poised. His expression doesn't really change, and the lapse only lasts a fraction of a second before he's moving again, smoothly pretending to eat a mouthful before lowering his bowl again, chewing and swallowing thin air masterfully. Even Yuzu only spots it because she's been watching the whole time from behind lowered eyelashes as she grabs some eggplant from one of the vegetable dishes.

She lets her gaze drop completely when she feels the man's eyes move from the food to her and then to Ichigo. Still, she can't quite suppress a pout, although she supposes she can't be too disappointed either since Hirako at least eats a good five bites of his rice before suddenly stiffening, glancing down sharply even as his eyes flicker with the same burnished gold colour that her brother possesses.

Then he looks up, looks at Urahara, looks at her, looks long at Ichigo, and then-

-he laughs. It's a bark of one that echoes with a snarl, except the mirth in it is also entirely genuine, enough for Yuzu to glance up with startled eyes. But the rest of the table does as well, so at least she doesn't stand out. Of course, that doesn't prevent Hirako from grinning at her, all teeth, with a bite that would feel like claws at her throat if not for the fact that it's coloured by something even warmer than when he'd complimented her spread. Appreciation, maybe.

"Is it the rice?" He muses candidly, and then actually eats another bite. "Nah, can't be, it was from the same cooker. It's the bowl, right? Not bad, I can't smell or taste anythin'."

Yuzu blinks and shares another look with Karin, who looks largely bored by the proceedings and hasn't stopped eating. Soccer practice always makes her hungry. But she also shrugs in agreement that Hirako is being sincere, so Yuzu relaxes and looks at her brother next.

Ichigo also hasn't stopped eating, although he isn't shovelling food into his mouth as speedily as Karin is. He swallows, glances leisurely at their guests, then looks back at her. "Not bad. Nothing in the food though?"

Yuzu frowns. "It's the first time you've invited them over, Onii-chan. I didn't want to scare them off."

Also, they're tolerable, and Ichigo even likes one of them, so she'd chosen the mildly poisoned bowls over the severely poisoned ones.

Ichigo just looks amused. "They don't scare easily."

Yuzu pouts again before glancing at their two guests, who are both watching them openly now. Hirako still looks like he's just heard a grand joke, while Urahara seems more than a little bemused, but neither of them feels angry.

Her big brother really is an excellent judge of character.

"You really didn't notice anything at all?" Yuzu asks in earnest, peering at Hirako before squinting at Urahara. "Then how come he did? And did you already shake the poison off?"

Hirako snorts and reaches for the communal chopsticks to swipe another chicken wing. "My... constitution's pretty good at negatin' toxins. And Kisuke's trained for this sort of thing."

Trained? Yuzu stares wide-eyed at Urahara long enough for the man to stop exuding caution and start manifesting awkwardness, which isn't what she wants so she hastily blurts out, "Are you really? So you can identify any poison? But the one I made is an original, so you shouldn't have come across it before."

Urahara stares back at her for a long blank-faced moment, not even bothering to stitch on a smile anymore, and like this, he matches the flat undercurrent of his emotions much better, like ice over water, except the water is the ocean and you don't know how deep it goes or what's waiting underneath.

"Ah," The man finally says, lifting a hand to his hat for a moment and pressing down on it so that his eyes are hidden. Then he looks up again and eyes her like he's seeing her for the first time and is pleasantly surprised by what he's found. "I may not know the exact poison, but I could still tell there was something off. Also, it's plant-based, isn't it?"

He pauses, and then, just like Hirako, he picks up his rice bowl again and swallows a decent mouthful, chewing almost thoughtfully beforehand. "And refined with reiatsu. That's actually more difficult to hide from me. Your technique is clumsy too. Give me an hour and I could probably also tell you the strains you crossed to make it. For now, at the very least, I can say there's definitely wisteria in this."

Yuzu is rendered speechless for a full five seconds. And then she snaps out of it and rounds on her brother with the best puppy eyes in her arsenal. She knows they don't actually work, but Ichigo tends to give in to her when she pulls them out anyway because it means she really wants something. "Onii-chan, you'll invite them back again, won't you? Urahara-san is amazing! I could learn so much if he teaches me!"

Ichigo's eyebrows go up for a moment in a way that speaks of indulgence, but he also glances lazily at Urahara before going back to his food. "Ask him yourself."

Yuzu pulls up short, always slightly stunned whenever her brother refuses her, even when it's not a direct refusal. But generally speaking, if she or Karin wants something enough to ask for it, Ichigo has always been the sort to simply make it happen for them. The only times he's ever refused is when he'd thought it too unnecessary - Karin really shouldn't have asked for a flamethrower for her birthday, it's unwieldy and she can't hide it in her backpack, plus they know how to make Molotov cocktails already anyway, which is almost the same thing - or when he'd considered it important for them to get what they want on their own, usually because it would make for a useful life skill in the future.

Never has it been because of a person.

But for the first time ever, this situation seems to have fallen into that exact category, which... She looks back at Urahara with more curiosity than before. For someone Ichigo only finds tolerable, something about this man has... impressed him? Is that what's going on here? Not even Mizuiro has ever succeeded in that before, so for once, Yuzu has no precedent to draw from.

Well, that doesn't matter right now. The important thing is that Urahara will probably remain in her big brother's life for some time to come, which means-

"Urahara-san!" She shoots to her feet, chair clattering back with the force of it as she bows. "Please teach me more about poisons! It's okay if it's just a little bit, whenever you have time. I promise I'll work hard! And of course, I can pay for the lessons!"

She does some mental tallying. There's a bake sale coming up for her club, and the venue they've chosen is close enough to the Karakura border to attract people from the neighbouring town. If she plays her cards right, some thugs from nearby yakuza groups probably wouldn't mind donating to her cause. Pretty little girls offering pretty little cakes are bound to reel in at least a few idiots.

Of course, she'll have to ask Ichigo to get rid of them afterwards. It's better not to risk putting anything too lethal into a school bake sale, just in case of an accident, so she'll have to stick with upset stomachs at most. Once they've paid up, Ichigo can make them disappear. Those upset stomachs can get really gross, and blood and guts aren't much better if cleanup gets messy, so Yuzu would rather not deal with that part.

Unlike her siblings who don't mind it, Yuzu is unfortunately something of a clean freak. Karin always taunts her about having inherited their father's delicate constitution, and Yuzu can't even refute it, no matter how insulted she feels. It's seriously unfair because she can gut a fish in the kitchen no problem, but human intestines make her gag.

"I-" Urahara starts, jolting her out of her thoughts. The man looks taken aback all over again, and like he's missed a step somewhere. He even feels a bit nervous as he whips out a paper fan of all things, one that hides half his face from view. His gaze bounces between her and her brother, emitting enough anxious vibes that Yuzu suddenly wants to give him an emotional support dog or something. "I'm not sure I would be the... best choice for this sort of thing, Kurosaki-san."

Yuzu is unsure who he's talking to, but just in case it's her, she rearranges her face into the most kicked puppy look of disappointment she's capable of. "Why not? You know your poisons, and it looks like it'll be hard for me to kill you. Onii-chan can only teach me so much, it's not really his area, so I've only been able to trial-and-error it for months now. But I'm a quick learner, and I swear I'll listen to anything you're willing to teach me. Or, is it the money? Just name your price."

Even if she can't come up with it all on her own, she's certain Ichigo will help pay the rest. Honestly, even if it's within her budget, he'll just pour the same amount she shells out back into her bank account. The only reason they have to go in a big circle like this is because Ichigo wants them to learn how to handle money responsibly.

"That's not-" Urahara stops again, then snaps his fan shut, and then all of a sudden, it's like a wall comes up, and everything about him shuts down. He straightens, features as unreadable as the rest of him, and then he turns to Ichigo so that it's unmistakeable who he's talking to this time. "Kurosaki-san, is this really alright?"

Ichigo's basically finished eating at this point. Karin gets up for another bowl of rice. Mizuiro watches them like he's binging one of his romance dramas. And Hirako has his head propped up against one loose fist, eyes half-lidded but intent.

In response, Ichigo only shrugs. "I mean, you can say no. But like she said, I can't teach her much more than I already have, and it's not like she's gonna find a better teacher than you at this point, right?"

"And where did you learn it from?" Urahara asks, grey eyes riveted on Ichigo with the sort of focus that feels like he might've forgotten anyone else even exists.

Ichigo actually quirks a smile, sardonically amused. "Same place I learned everything else."

He doesn't expand on it, keeping the conversation on track instead, much to Yuzu's delight. "Anyway, if you're asking for permission, obviously it's a yes. I wouldn't have let her ask in the first place if I wasn't okay with it. And she's smart. You could do worse for a part-time student."

Urahara remains motionless and unblinking for another few seconds. "...Was this why you invited us for dinner?"

Ichigo shrugs again. "Not really. It's not like I knew you knew poisons. I just thought my sisters should meet you, that's all."

"And why's that?" Hirako interjects, also watching Ichigo with gleaming eyes that never waver. "Cuz ya don't seem the type to let jus' anyone get close to your nearest and dearest."

Ichigo turns to him, and his eyes are fond in a way they very rarely are when aimed at anyone not Yuzu or Karin or Mizuiro. It's not quite on the same level, but it does make it even more obvious that Hirako has her brother's favour.

"I thought it'd be good if they knew a few Shinigami," Ichigo says offhandedly, although judging by the slight stir of surprise from both guests, they hadn't expected he would just come out and say it. Or perhaps they're surprised he's talking about it in front of Yuzu and Karin and Mizuiro? But they're family. Yuzu doesn't know everything about Ichigo, but that's just because she doesn't want to know that much about her brother's life, not because Ichigo wouldn't tell her if she or Karin asks.

"You seem like you might bring trouble to my doorstep one day," Ichigo says, somewhat out of the blue, and all at once, Urahara tugs at his hat again just as Yuzu gets a sense of shifty-eyed discomfort all but waving support lights over the man's head. Hirako sort of feels the same, but in a less... personal way.

So whatever's going on, Urahara's probably the one in charge.

Ichigo seems to sense it too, or he's long guessed it considering his not great feelings for Urahara. Either way, he scoffs, and the light in his eyes says he's annoyed, but not annoyed enough to do something permanent about it. Yet. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So I figured it's better for you to know who you should do your very best to protect if shit goes down around them, because otherwise, I might not even feel like hearing you out. Understand?"

Hirako glances at Yuzu, at Karin, even at Mizuiro, then he turns back to Ichigo, solemn in a way Yuzu hasn't seen since they met, "I understand."

It sounds like a promise.

Ichigo hums, satisfied. Neither of them prods at Urahara for an answer, and Urahara doesn't give one. He feels flat again, like a scrap of paper.

"So like I said," Ichigo continues briskly. "If you wanna teach her, knock yourself out. You can send me the bill."

Yuzu beams at him. Looks like she won't have to waste any cakes.

From his seat, Urahara heaves a sigh, and now he just seems tired and still a bit baffled, but he also finally looks at her again like he's assessing her potential. Yuzu straightens and adopts her best imploring face.

This of all things makes Urahara's mouth twitch, and he even feels amused, except it's the sort of amusement that's all wrapped up in razor-wire mockery. That bit doesn't show on his face of course. Still, Yuzu's fingers suddenly itch with the urge to swap out his bowl with the other one after all.

"So clumsy," The man muses, one finger tapping at the cane leaning against his chair. "...Very well, I suppose I may have a few things I can impart to a budding... chemistry enthusiast. On one condition however. And I don't want money."

He looks at Ichigo again, except he doesn't say anything. Ichigo seems to understand anyway because a grin pulls at his lips, a touch too savage to fit on a human face, and aimed at anyone else, Yuzu knows they wouldn't even have time to pick out a coffin.

Urahara seems to be an exception. It makes Yuzu wonder if he's just that strong, certain in his ability to forever remain stronger than her brother, or if he's simply gambling with his life, and it's Ichigo instead who's decided to be uncharacteristically patient.

She hopes it's not the former, because she has no faith in anyone who thinks themselves capable of staying ahead of her brother forever. But if it's the latter, then maybe she'll have enough time to wheedle out everything Urahara knows of poisons before Ichigo snaps and kills him.

"That seems a bit unbalanced," Ichigo remarks.

Urahara inclines his head, and this time, his voice rings of the same vow that had reverberated in Hirako's earlier. "Upon my blade, my life before your family's, should the worst come to pass."

Ichigo laughs, soft and without humour. "This trouble must be something else. That, or you don’t think your life’s worth all that much. But fine. We'll hash it out tomorrow. Keep your word, and I might even go along with whatever you and your people have been cooking up. But Yuzu gets to bug you for lessons any day of the week from now on."

And once again, between one breath and the next, Urahara trades the gravity for the false affability from before.

It's like watching a performance, Yuzu thinks.

She glances at her brother and watches him watch Urahara, still annoyed, still a bit like he could put a knife through the other's ribs if it wouldn't mean the hassle of mopping blood off the floor.

Ichigo likes Hirako. Yuzu does too, even though they just met not even half an hour ago. There's something about him that makes him approachable and friendly despite the very obvious beast lurking beneath his skin. But that too might be part of the charm because Yuzu's long used to the same thing from her brother. Knowing even just that much, it's not a shock that Ichigo has clicked with him - a fellow monster - in a way he never has even with Mizuiro.

But Urahara is different. Urahara is treated with tolerance only, with irritation and discontent and even derision, on and off. But Yuzu knows that her brother has killed people for a whole lot less than that, and yet here Urahara sits at their family's table while Ichigo looks at him from time to time, tolerant and irritated and discontent and derisive, and he can't stop looking.

She wonders if even her brother is aware of what he's doing.

"I'll leave my number," The man offers, complete with a genial smile. "And you may stop by my shop anytime. Allow me a few days, and I shall have some reading material organized for you."

Yuzu perks up, nods, and finally sits back down, then gets up again to fetch two extra bowls of rice, this time clean of any poison. Hirako snickers but accepts his with a nod. Urahara does the same, with that same winning smile, and then dinner restarts, this time uninterrupted.

Well, who cares if Ichigo is aware or not? He’ll figure it out sooner or later. And besides, it’s all the same in the end— people who push her brother too far will face the consequences, and those who don't will not. That's just the simple truth of it.

But in the meantime, Urahara at least won't be going anywhere, which means Yuzu can finally get some guidance for one of her favourite hobbies, and honestly, that's all she really cares about.

[luvyeni]

Can we get some more 9th member x skz talk? maybe some pervy action with that topic too. like feeling her up during lives or in the studio. idk sumn like that.

perv!ot8 skz x 9th female member

perv!ot8 who tells you that you don't have to leave the room to change into your music show outfit , "we promise we won't look." but the moment you turn around they're all opening their eyes taking a peak.

perv!chan who invites you to be a guest on chans room and touches you through your panties, you let out a whine but cover it up saying you have a headache and the comments are going crazy about how he's so attentive towards you thinking he's whispering in your ear if you're okay or something when in reality it's something totally different. "do you want them to know you're a naughty girl letting me touch you like this?"

perv!minho who tells you to come to the dance studio so he could help you fix your mistakes in the choreo before the comeback , eyeing you up and down when you come in with your leggings and sports bra. his hands are constantly going down, grabbing your ass, when you shyly push his hand away, he flips it on you. "why are you trying to rile me up then , you aren't slick."

perv!changbin who agrees to help you record your skz-player , meeting you in the studio alone, you're in the little box for a while , getting ready to give up because changbin keeps telling you to do it over , "does that sound good." you almost start to cry he says "not yet , do it one more time." you whine , doing what you're told , what you don't notice is changing fisting his cock to your voice.

perv!hyunjin who begs you to do a dance with him , and picks the dirtiest song that he could , saying "it's just a dance , we're professionals." but nothing about what he's about to do is professional, grabbing your waist , pulling you flush against his hardening cock , groaning into your ear , coping a feel of your boobs when he goes to do a specific move. "you're lucky that camera is there."

perv!han who tells you to sit in his lap while you're in the studio writing a song together claiming "because i'll work better if you're really close to me." , but you can barely get any lyrics down because because he's too busy rutting his hips against your ass. "j...jisung what are you doing?" "nothing love , keep writing your lyrics , this needs to be done today."

perv!felix pulls you into his lap when you complain about having to sit on the floor , "there now you don't have to." smirking at your flustered state. "they're asking if you're sick, you're a little red." he read the comment, "are you sick?" he bit back a smirk as you tried to explain that you are a little sick, but he knows you're lying , he knows it's because he's grinding his hard cock against you, whispering in your ear. "good girl."

perv!seugmin who agrees to help you with your vocals , meeting you in the dance room, "minnie we've been doing the same thing for hours, my throat hurts." he is so sick of your complaining. "come here." he sits unbuckling his pants , your flustered state making his cock harder , "get on your knees , i'll really make your throat hurt."

perv!jeongin who corners you in the unoccupied area of the music bank hallway , your outfit showed a lot more skin than normal and jeongin couldn't hold himself back anymore , "i..innie." you pushed at his chest, looking around to see if anyone was looking "that skirt is so fucking short." he pushed your thighs apart , his hand finding it's way into your safety shorts. "so messy, gonna cum right before you go on stage."

[daizymax]

let loose | hhj (m)

summary: it's a party, and your roommate said you should loosen up once in a while, so why is he upset when you start making out with one of his friends?

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 6.2k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: roommate!hyunjin; profanity; alcohol consumption; some name-calling (reader calls hyunjin an asshole and an idiot one time each); jealousy; jisung is briefly featured only to be used for very poor plot purposes i'm so sorry; graphic sexual content; dirty talk; vaginal fingering; protected sex

author's note: reuploaded from my old blog with some edits (nothing major though). hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

It’s not the book’s fault, yet you still take your frustration out on it by slinging it across your bedroom after the - not third, not fourth, but - fifth drunken guest stumbles into your closed door.

“I swear to god,” you groan, tossing aside your comforter to begrudgingly pull on a pair of pants and step out of what was supposed to be your safe haven for the night.

Into the fray it is, then.

Whichever culprit tripped into your door a moment ago is not in the hallway anymore. From the living room and kitchen, you can hear laughter and chatter straining to be heard over the booming music. And as you pass the bathroom, you lock eyes with a young man and glimpse someone in there behind him before he closes the door.

Sighing, you make your way to the living room. Nothing appears to have been destroyed, you note gratefully, but the “small gathering” is clearly busier and rowdier than what your roommate had promised. He’s not here in the crowded living room, though, so you move to check the kitchen next, pushing and squeezing past bodies with mumbled apologies as you go.

You find Hyunjin upending a bottle of tequila into a row of shot glasses. Half of his nearly shoulder-length blond hair is gathered in a knot behind his head, looking maddeningly elegant when the same hairstyle on anyone else would look messy at best. His white button-down shirt hugs his shoulders nicely, and the sleeves are folded up near his elbows, giving a clear view of the tendons in his forearms flexing beneath smooth, creamy skin as he works. It’s a simple look, but his entire appearance is still too well-kept for this hour and setting, in your opinion. You’ve always held the belief that Home is a safe place to not give a shit how you look, not a place to be looking like… that.

He spots you and smiles, though you notice a hint of sheepishness in his eyes as well. He’s pleasantly surprised to see you, but he’s also aware you’ve been disturbed on his account. Even still, he doesn’t greet you with a due apology. He keeps his tone light and carefree as he calls out: “Hey! Did you change your mind about joining the fun? You want a shot?”

You make a face. “Ick, no, tequila is such a nasty drink,” you decline. When you get close enough, you lean into his shoulder and mutter, “What the fuck, dude, you said a 'few' people. And it’s two A.M.”

He turns to consult the clock over the stove and shrugs. “Perfect time for things to be in full swing then, I’d say. And you must not be doing your shots right, babe.” He gestures toward a bowl of lime wedges, and you vaguely wonder when he picked those up because you certainly didn’t purchase them yourself.

“I know how to do a tequila shot, asshole. But still,” you dismiss without elaborating further. “I’m going back to bed. Can you try to keep your friends away from my room, please? They keep fucking bumping into my door. Oh, and if they need a bathroom, tell them to use yours because I think a couple of them are hooking up in the guest one right now.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen momentarily, then crease in amusement. He leans to the side and shouts behind you, “Yo, Jisung! Where’d Jisung go? Hey! Someone tell him Minho is-”

You’re not interested in hearing Minho’s story or what Jisung has to say about it, whoever they both are. You’re only interested in preserving some semblance of sanctity in your home, so you get back in your roommate’s face and cut him off with a terse warning. “Hyunjin, please, I’m serious. Keep it civil in here.”

“Okay, ‘mom,’ jeez.”

You toss your hands up in defeat and spin on your heel to storm off, but he catches your bicep.

“No, wait, I’m sorry, Y/N, really,” he says more sincerely when he gets you to turn back around. You cross your arms and wait for more. “We’ll be good, and I’ll make sure everyone is out in an hour, even if I have to personally drive them all home myself,” he promises, going dramatically over the top to show you how serious he is. “But you really should just join us, you know. I’ve told you you’re welcome to.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I am. I fucking live here.”

“Exactly. This is your home, so you should let loose once in a while.”

“And what could I possibly gain from getting drunk with you and your friends?”

“Uh, the experience of actually having fun for once? And the pleasure of our - well, mainly my - amazing company?” Hyunjin answers with a tone and a face that tells you it should have been obvious. 

“Yeah, right,” you snort.

“Just let me see you have one shot, babe. Humor me. Pretty please?”

You eye the pitiful, pleading look on his pouty face, then the spread of liquor on the sticky countertop, and eventually cave. “Fine, where’s the salt?”

Hyunjin watches in delight as you lick the back of your hand to prepare it for the salt. As you’re sprinkling it on, someone joins the two of you in the kitchen.

“Hey Hyunjin, were you just calling me?” He doesn’t wait for the answer to that before he’s going on, “Who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met.”

You turn to face the newcomer and stretch out your unsalted hand. “Hey, I’m Y/N, Hyunjin’s roommate.”

“Oh!” He takes your hand in both of his and squeezes it enthusiastically. “Good to finally meet you. I’m Jisung.”

You throw a cheeky smile at your roommate as you grab one of the shot glasses. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve been talked about behind my back?” you ask neither of them in particular, though Hyunjin at least has the decency to blush over being caught.

“Nothing bad,” Jisung rushes to clarify. “Hyunjin’s just mentioned you sometimes, like whenever something reminds him of you or- something.”

His abrupt finish makes you think Hyunjin just gave him some kind of shut-the-fuck-up look, but you missed it. You don’t press for details, though. You just go about getting through the shot you were so easily talked into. So you lick the salt from your hand, down the tequila in one burning swallow, then bite into the flesh of a lime wedge in sequence as quickly as you can while the boys watch.

“Awful. Just awful,” you declare when you’re finished, smacking your lips and clicking your tongue in disgust.

Jisung chuckles and Hyunjin claps your back rather proudly as he takes the bitten lime wedge to throw it away.

“Do you like beer? We can drink beer instead,” Jisung suggests.

You look to see if he is in fact speaking to you, which does appear to be the case from his smile and hopeful eye contact.

Before you answer, you take the time to give him a proper once-over. He’s very attractive, but it’s not as instantly noticeable as with Hyunjin. Something in the way his smile begins faltering the longer you stare at him is utterly endearing to you, though.

“We?” you tease.

“I mean, if that’s c-cool with you-” he starts backtracking on his boldness.

“Y/N isn’t really into parties, are you, babe?” Hyunjin suddenly speaks up for you. “I think she was just going back to her room.”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows and pouts. “Aw, really?”

You give Hyunjin a look that is both stern and confused. You have mixed feelings about the pet name to begin with. It’s one thing for him to want to call you something other than your name when it’s just the two of you, but he never calls you that in front of others. Or he never has before, at least. Now it makes it sound like the two of you are… a couple? An item? Which is not the case.

Plus, he’d been excited to have you out here “joining the fun” a moment ago, but now he’s okay with you retreating to your room? Or perhaps he just doesn’t want you spending time with Jisung in particular...

Upon connecting those dots, you decide you only have one choice in the matter.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind about that. I’d love to have a beer with you, Jisung,” you say sweetly, to which he beams.

“Great!” The return of his smile assures you you’ve made the right choice. “Lead the way.”

Hyunjin shoots his friend another look as you and Jisung leave the kitchen together, but you miss that one, too.

---

“So, what made a girl like you move in with a guy like Hyunjin?”

“‘A girl like me,’” you repeat, downing another swig of beer. “So you think you know all about me now since we’ve talked about our jobs and hobbies, huh?”

Jisung doesn’t flinch against your teasing this time, just laughs. “I mean, I’m definitely not opposed to learning more about you.”

He stretches an arm behind you on the back of the couch and scoots closer. He really is a very good looking guy, and you know it’s not the alcohol adding optimism to your vision, either, because you haven’t had all that much. He has great hair, pretty eyes, cute nose, nice teeth, beautiful cheekbones. A little excitable, you can tell, but also charming and polite. He’s cute.

He holds your gaze with a small but unwavering smile this time as he waits for you to either answer his initial question or offer more information about yourself. You opt for neither.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about me anymore.”

“Okay, that’s cool. What would you rather talk-”

You lean in and kiss him. Just a peck, a gentle press of your lips to his, not too fast but still over before he’s fully registered the gesture or able to return it.

“Oh,” Jisung whispers in understanding when you pull back a little.

“Was that okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah, perfectly okay,” he assures. He bites his tingling lip and smirks, then lifts his arm from the couch to place his hand on the nape of your neck. “But I wasn’t quite ready. Can we try that again?”

You nod, and he closes the gap to kiss you back properly this time. From some corner of your apartment, a tipsy guest whistles over the scene, but you’re more interested in the hum Jisung lets out as both your lips part and tongues slip together in sync. He tastes of beer and salty snacks, but something on him - his shampoo or his lotion or his cologne or maybe a mixture of the three - smells faintly sweet and minty.

His fingertips gently tickle your neck for a bit, then hold firmly to draw you deeper into his kisses. You consider moving onto his lap, but something in the back of your mind tells you not to cause too much of a scene in the middle of Hyunjin’s party.

In fact, if you were paying more attention to your surroundings outside of this cute stranger, you might have noticed the onlookers stirring up a scandalized fuss over your roommate already making a beeline toward the couch, but it isn’t until he’s shoving the two of you apart that you do.

“What the hell, man?” Jisung protests.

Hyunjin ignores him, addressing you instead. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a second, please?”

Apparently by “talk” he means pull you completely out of the room and partway down the hallway like a barbarian before you manage to wrest your hand away.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?” you repeat Jisung’s question with double the annoyance.

“I’m here asking you the same thing,” he snaps back in a hushed tone. “Why are you making out with a stranger on the couch?”

You cross your arms in front of him for the second time tonight and raise an eyebrow to his attitude. “I thought I was just letting loose, having fun and enjoying the pleasure of your friends’ company. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I didn’t mean like that! And why Jisung?”

“What’s wrong with Jisung? He seems nice.”

Hyunjin gawps like he’s never heard those words out of anyone’s mouth before. “You’ve only known him for like half an hour!”

“So? He still seems nice. And he’s really hot...”

You turn your head back to the living room to try and catch Jisung’s eye and give him a signal that you’ll be with him again shortly, but Hyunjin dives to block your line of sight.

“He’s not good enough for you, trust me.”

“Well for fuck’s sake, Hyunjin, I’m not trying to marry him! I’m just trying to get laid,” you spell out bluntly. Hyunjin scoffs but doesn’t reply, just looks down at the floor. You scrutinize the plain displeasure all over his face and smirk as a sneaking suspicion occurs to you. “Unbelievable. Is the Hwang Hyunjin actually jealous?”

“Yes.” His swift, honest answer catches you completely by surprise and stuns you into silence. When he gauges that you’re not going to reply, he continues, “It’s not fair, Y/N. We’ve been living together for months and it only took Jisung thirty minutes to get you to want to sleep with him? I’ve been here this whole time. I’ve been- I’ve wanted you this whole time...”

You process his words in continued silence for nearly a full minute, then finally say, “If I’d known it would only take me making out with one of your friends to get you to confess that, I would’ve joined one of your parties sooner. Or you could have just told me from the start, you know.”

Hyunjin recognizes a joke somewhere in your words and automatically lets a laugh slip, but soon snaps his head up. “Wait, really?”

“You’re such an idiot,” you chuckle. “But I guess I am, too. I guess we’ve both been wasting all this time. Want to make up for it?”

His eyes blow wide. “R-Right now? Aren’t you drunk?”

“No. Are you?”

“No…”

“Then why not? I mean, I guess we can at least kick everyone out first, if you wa-”

His lips are on yours before you can finish the thought. They’re just as plush as they look, but the impact is sharp, and you take only a brief moment to grunt over it before you’re reciprocating in full, grabbing his shoulders tightly and pulling him closer. He tastes like traces of salt, too. Citrusy as well. And the woody scent of his cologne is an all too familiar comfort in your nostrils. He wraps his arms around you and you sigh, happily letting him overwhelm your senses.

“Babe… please tell me this won’t be a one-time thing,” Hyunjin mumbles between ravishing blows of lips and teeth.

“Wasn’t planning on it being.”

“And you’re sure you’re not drunk?” he checks again.

“I’m sure, Hyunjin. I want this.”

“Bedroom, then.”

“Yours or mine?” you giggle.

“I don’t care… yours,” he decides quickly, steering you by the hips in the right direction.

There is already a couple in there tangled together in their own passionate lip-lock when you stumble through the door. You’ll have time to be upset about their evident plans to defile your safe haven later when you’re not in your own haste to commit nasty acts in it.

“Get the fuck out,” Hyunjin growls at them.

You expect at least one of them to argue that they were here first, but they heed his command without a word, hastily picking up one of their discarded shirts before scampering off.

Hyunjin slams the door behind them with a careless kick of his foot, then continues right on kissing you like you’re holding all the air in the room. At the same time, his hands are busy trying to map every line of your body like it’s something he needed to have memorized yesterday.

“Hyunjin - ungh -  I know we’re making up for lost time, but - mmph - we can still - hah - slow down, you know,” you laugh, struggling to get your words out in the midst of the feverish pace he’s setting.

He nearly whimpers at that. “Just want you so fucking bad, you have no idea. Been waiting so long to touch you, kiss you.”

His lips skim across your cheek and over to your ear. Whatever response you had in mind is lost when he nips your earlobe with his teeth then soothes the sting with the tip of his wet tongue.

“You like that?” he asks, though he suspects he knows the answer already by the shiver that runs through you.

“Y-yeah.”

He does it again - a quick nip of his teeth and a sensual flick of his tongue - and then he’s on to the next thing, trailing those enticing lips down the column of your throat, suckling gently at your skin the entire way.

“Can we take this off?” Hyunjin asks next, alerting you to where his fingers have hooked themselves under the hem of your shirt.

At your nod, he yanks it up and drops it aside. There is a glimmer in his eyes as he takes in your bare chest, as though one of his biggest fantasies has just sprung to life before him. You entertain the idea that perhaps it has.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. He’s never been one to impress easily, but there’s no mistaking the look on his face for anything else.

His pace is much slower when he reaches to graze the pads of his thumbs back and forth across your perked nipples. The soft moan you release encourages him to take a better feel with his palms.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pictured your tits in my head,” he confesses as he carefully gropes you. “All those times you paraded around the apartment without a bra on, nipples sticking through your shirt... fuck, Y/N.”

You huff a small laugh at the thought of you ever “parading” anywhere, but the knowledge that you’ve ever turned him on turns you on even more, as made evident by the growing wetness between your legs.

“And these tight fucking leggings you always wear,” he goes on, roaming his hands down your hips and around to your backside, “drive me insane on you, I swear to god. Any time - every time - I see you bend over, I just want to take you over the counter or the couch or against the wall and give it to you good, baby.”

The new pet name and the sordid confessions spilling from him make you want to join in on the dirty talk, but the feeling of him taking two handfuls of your ass - the feeling of his long-awaited touch in general - is burning you up from the inside, fizzling the majority of your coherent thoughts. All you can bring yourself to speak is: “Show me.”

Hyunjin looks back to your face and grins wickedly. “Oh, I’ll definitely be fucking you in the kitchen at some point in the near future. And in the living room. There are so many things I want to do to you. So many things I want you do to me. We’re gonna fuck each other in every single room in this place, starting with this one.”

He pulls away, and you immediately miss his body heat. You don’t complain, however, because you don’t want to disrupt him from yanking his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his jeans and undoing the buttons one by one with deft twists of his fingers. Once the flaps are loose, he shrugs and lets the fabric spill to a heap on the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless on many occasions by now. In the mornings, stumbling to the coffee pot while still half asleep. On his way to the laundry room with only a pair of sweatpants riding low on his hips because he always lets his dirty clothes pile up until he has nearly nothing left to wear. But not in this context. Not when it’s finally appropriate for you to stare. Not when the sexual tension that has been building for months is finally about to be shattered.

Yet you don’t even get to admire his chest nearly as much as he did yours before your attention is drawn lower by his hands working to open his belt. He drops it aside with his shirt, and then his jeans follow, and then his boxers, and just like that, he’s standing completely naked in front of you with enough lithe, beautiful glory to almost make your heart stop.

Hyunjin takes a step closer to you, his erection bobbing gently and shamelessly in the air with the motion. He puts his hands back on you, snapping the waistband of your pants lightly as he leans in to ask, “Are you gonna get these, or should I?”

“Go ahead,” you invite.

You steady your hands on his shoulders, and he peels your bottoms - underwear and all - far enough down your legs for you to kick them both away. Once he stands up straight again, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him to lie over you on the mattress. He helps position you comfortably in the center with gentle nudges of his knees and tugs of his warm hands, and his lips find their way back to yours in the meantime. You hum contentedly at the return of the citrusy taste that comes from his tongue dipping against yours.

After all his careful maneuvering to get you just where he wanted, you decide this isn’t the position you want after all, so you push your weight against him until he rolls over and slips beneath you.

Hyunjin’s eyelashes flutter prettily as he gazes up at you. Then they scrunch completely shut when you press your center against the shaft of his thick, solid cock. The moan he lets out when you begin to drag yourself up and down his erection may be the single most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Feel how fucking hard you got me already? That’s all for you.”

Your empty walls clench from his words. Nodding, you whisper, “So hard. So big. Can’t wait to have you inside me.”

He hums and opens his eyes. “Me either. Can I finger you first?”

It’s great that he’s offering because you were just about to request the exact same thing.

“Please.”

Hyunjin wastes no time slipping his hand between your bodies, and you lift up a little higher on your knees to give him more room.

He starts by gently gliding a single finger up and down your slit to gauge how wet you are already. Evidently his findings are unsatisfactory, though, because he quickly removes his hand to bring it up to his face and add some spit to it before bringing it back down. Two of his wet fingers prod shallowly into your hole, and you keen at the sensation.

“Shit, that’s tight,” he mutters, steadily working his knuckles deeper.

It’s clear when he starts searching for your g-spot from the way his fingers start crooking. He has to adjust his depth and angle a few times, but he eventually taps the patch he’s looking for.

Your legs quiver as he starts working up a quick pace against that sweet spot inside you, pressing his fingertips against it with every pump back and forth through your walls.

“Oh god,” you moan, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your hips buck after a particularly good push of his fingers, and he hums knowingly.

“Like sitting on my fingers, baby?” he asks. The tone of his voice is pitched deeper than usual, and it sends a shiver up your spine. The hand that isn't currently inside you runs along your thigh soothingly.

You nod and lick your lips. “Yeah,” you breathe. “F-Feels so fucking good…”

“Can’t believe I finally have you sitting over me with my fingers up your pussy right now,” he says, gaze moving in a line from your face to your chest to your pussy and back again.

Smirking down at him, you say, “It’s about to be your big cock inside me.”

Hyunjin groans and bites his lip. “You sure you’re ready to take me? I just got my fingers inside you. Haven’t even fucked you open on them yet.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, leaning down to press your bare chest into his. “Want you inside me so fucking bad, don't want to wait any longer.”

His fingers slip from your soaking cunt as you slot your lips over his, and he sighs when you slip your tongue into his mouth again.

When your hand goes reaching for his cock, he breaks away from the hungry kisses and pants, "Mm, Y/N, wait- We need a condom, yeah? I have some in my room…”

“I have some here.” You steal another quick kiss before drawing open your bedside table to grab one of the foil packets. A quick rip and tug and it’s out of the packaging so you can pinch the tip and roll it smoothly down his burning length.

“Last chance to turn back and not cross this line,” you declare.

“I think it would be even more awkward if we didn’t at this point. B-But it’s cool if you want to stop.”

He sounds nervous of what your answer may be, but you believe he means the words, and you appreciate the consideration all the same.

And you definitely feel sure. You definitely want this.

So you take hold of the base of his cock, line the broad tip up to your entrance, and begin to ease down.

The moment he breaches you, Hyunjin tenses and hisses a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands find purchase on your hips, too tight at first to brace himself against the wet heat you’re surrounding him in even through the condom, but then he eases up after he’s bottomed out.

You sit still once you’re flush against his lap, realizing you need to relish this particular moment because you won’t ever get it back - the ecstasy of feeling him stretch you out like this for the first time.

Hyunjin starts squirming after a bit, fingertips twitching from your hips down to your thighs and back again, unsure what to do with himself while he waits for you. “Baby, please, I think I might go crazy if you don’t move.”

“So impatient,” you tsk but begin to rock against him nonetheless. Careful, slow undulations of your waist to test the depths of the pleasure rippling through you. His breath hitches over a particular swivel, and you moan at the angles he’s hitting just from a little back and forth movement.

“Oh my god, you sound so hot,” Hyunjin praises. “And you feel like fucking heaven.”

“You feel so fucking good too, you feel amazing,” you gush back.

With an idea of how he could feel even better, you lift away from his lap just to sink down quickly. After a few repetitive drops, he reunites with that perfect spot inside you that has your toes curling inward and head tipping back in bliss.

Hyunjin groans along with you over the fast pace you’re picking up, and his hands finally settle for keeping a loose grip on your ass as the flesh of your thighs slaps against his hips with every plunge. Surely he can feel you starting to soak his lap; you can just hear how wet you are with every bounce. It’s sinfully vulgar but so fucking good.

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” he rasps next. “I swear I could watch you bounce on my dick all fucking night.”

You look down just as he flicks his eyes up from your heaving chest to your face, then you grin at having caught what exactly he was finding so gorgeous about you bouncing on his dick. 

Hyunjin licks his lips and sits up to bring his face closer to yours. “So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats on your lips before pressing harder.

You lose concentration over riding him when your mind is on the way his tongue dances behind your teeth, so he helps you out by bucking his hips upward as best he can to keep the stimulation on your sweet spot.

“Hyunjin…” you whine when he pulls back.

“Tell me what to do to make you come, baby, please. Need to feel you come on my cock so fucking bad, I'll do anything.”

From the way he was acting earlier, you half expected Hyunjin’s cocky ass to taunt you with claims of how he can fuck you better than Jisung ever could, not plea for instructions.

It’s almost sweet.

“Fuck me from behind?” you request.

Hyunjin blinks twice, kisses you sloppily several times more, then helps ease you onto all fours in front of him. You spread your knees and lift your backside to present his target to him, but he has his eyes cast down toward your face while you get yourself comfortable.

“Just like this?” he checks once it seems you’re finished moving. One of his hands hints along the small of your back delicately, wanting to touch you but not hold you down.

“Like this,” you confirm.

He takes hold of his cock and presses the tip back to your drenched folds, slicking it up and down a few times before pushing into your hole. He doesn't stop until he's up to his balls. Your pussy accepts his reentry easily, though Hyunjin seems to feel differently.

“You’re so damn tight, Y/N, fuck. When was the last time you got dicked down?”

“That has nothing to do with- oh fuck-”

He gives a sensual roll of his hips while you’re trying to speak, and you lose your train of thought once more. Hyunjin smirks at your reaction and does it again, barely withdrawing before hitting at just the right depth to have you arching your back for more.

“Is that good, baby? Is this how you want me to fuck you?” he asks, starting to build a rhythm. He holds your hips to keep you steady, but there’s not much he can do about rocking the mattress; not if he wants to keep you moaning and dripping and shuddering the way you are.

“Y-yeah, yeah, keep going, I’m getting close,” you urge.

Hyunjin keeps his eyes fixed on the place where his cock plunges in and out of you, spreading your ass cheeks apart to give himself a better view. His balls smack wetly against your clit over and over, enhancing the vulgarity of the skin-on-skin noises ringing in your ears.

It isn't as much stimulation as you need, though, so you dip a hand between your legs to play with yourself, and Hyunjin can feel the instant you touch your clit from the way you suddenly clench around him. The extra tightness draws a grunt from the back of his throat and his hips jerk unsteadily.

He’s been careful to keep his thrusts under control, striking your g-spot repeatedly without brutally battering it, but you can tell he’s losing his composure, losing his breath, losing his head in the steam of your conjoined pleasure. He groans out and pounds into your pussy harder.

The headboard is outright banging against the wall by now. Some part of you wonders how noticeable it is from the rest of the apartment, but most of your concentration is on rubbing faster at your clit while Hyunjin keeps your g-spot on the end of his pistoning dick.

“Almost,” you promise vaguely, but Hyunjin knows exactly what you mean.

His hand meets yours between your legs to lightly knock it out of the way and take over. He uses the pad of his middle finger to pick up where you left off, and the sensation - the utter thrill - of being touched by him hurtles you that much faster toward the edge, even though he's not familiar with your preferred technique yet.

“Come with me, baby, please, I need to fucking feel it. Shit, I’m so fucking close, please come with me,” he begs and babbles breathlessly.

You put your fingers over his to guide him through a few more rotations around your clit. That, coupled with another series of perfectly aimed thrusts of his rigid cock, finally send you toppling into white hot, nerve-racking, spine-crumpling abyss. You climax with a mighty clench and a cry that rips from your vocal chords just before you can suffocate it in your pillow.

“Sh-shit Y/N! You’re seriously coming on my- oh, fffffuck!”

Hyunjin lets go of your clit in a rush to grab your hips with both hands again to brace himself against the onslaught of his own explosive orgasm. You can feel his cock lurch where he’s buried it deep in your clamped walls at the moment of his release. Wave after wave trembles his frame, sending him shivering behind you as his orgasm rolls on and on for so long you almost become concerned.

Eventually, he gives you a comforting squeeze and pants, “You didn’t… you didn’t fake that, did you?”

You can’t help but laugh in pure amusement. “What, my orgasm? No, that was definitely not fake. You made me come so hard, Hyunjin,” you admit shamelessly.

“Okay, just checking,” he laughs back. “It’s just that I couldn’t see your face and-... but it still felt really-... that was so… wow.”

You don’t have it in you to comment on his eloquence - or lack thereof, rather; you don’t exactly have words for what’s just happened either.

He draws his cock from your still-quivering pussy and gets up on wobbly legs to trash the condom in your adjoined bathroom while you slump to your side and swipe the back of your hand across your clammy forehead, swallowing hard to bring some normalcy back to your erratic breathing and thundering heart.

Hyunjin returns with a towel in hand. You wearily lift an arm to take it from him, but he’s already coaxing your legs open to dab carefully at the stickiness smeared between them.

“So sweet,” you joke, finding the energy to tease him after all.

He looks at you and smiles. “It’s cute that you think I’m being sweet when I’m actually just getting a better look at your pussy because I didn’t before.”

He spreads your lower lips apart with his fingers and raises an eyebrow in approval of their sticky, swollen state, to which you gasp in mock offense and swat at his arm. He snickers and drops the towel aside, then climbs back into bed with you.

“I can be sweet, though, if cuddling is an option.”

You open your arms to showcase cuddling is in fact an option, and he sinks his head into a cozy spot beneath your chin. The crown of his golden head smells like apricots, you notice. You gently tug off the elastic band in his hair and roll it onto your wrist before shaking out the freed strands. He hums drowsily as you play with his hair.

After a while, he murmurs, “I should probably go kick everyone out and apologize to Jisung before I fall asleep.”

Again, you giggle. “Shit, I should apologize to him, too. If he’s still out there, that is. If anyone’s still out there. We may have scared everyone off.” You strain your ears for a moment to try and pick up on any more laughter and chatter out there, but all you can hear is the music now.

“You were pretty loud, babe,” Hyunjin points out.

You dig your fingertip into his cheek playfully. “And I’m sure you’ll be bragging about that for weeks to come.”

“Me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Despite the plans he was making to get up and leave the room, Hyunjin draws his arms tighter around your middle and remains right where he is. A while longer passes before he asks softly, “Can I sleep here with you tonight, or would that be weird?”

“Hey.”

He tilts his head to look at you.

“Don’t overthink things,” you tell him, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t planning on this being a one-time thing, and I think you meant it when you said you didn’t want it to be either, but we can make this whatever we want. It doesn’t have to be complicated, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

Hyunjin leans his face in but hesitates when he notices that you don’t close your eyes in preparation for his kiss. You smile and pull him in the rest of the way, and he smiles back against you, eyes on yours.

When he pulls back, he licks his lips and says slowly, “So… I can sleep here with you tonight then?”

You laugh loudly and shove him away. “Go make sure everyone got the hell out of our apartment, then get your ass back here.”

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

copyright © 2023 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[sturniololoco]

can you please do a younger sister fic where reader is in videos and gets a lot of hate comments?

Hate

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: Hate, body shaming, eating disorder, crying, etc.

SLS/N’s POV

“Oh my gosh Chris! Stop! That’s so gross!” I yelled at my brother as he burped in my face.

He laughed in return, trying to shield himself from my solid punch in the arm.

“Alright guys! That has been today’s video, I hope you all enjoys having our special guest in our video today-“ Nick started to say, giving the video it’s usual outro.

I waved to the camera before turning back to Chris and continued beating him up. Matt laughed and joined in while Nick finished talking to the camera.

-

laying in the darkness of my room at 1:30 in the morning, I opens my lap top and went to my brothers YouTube channel.

The video from earlier already had 500k views. Getting happy, I scrolled through the comment section to see what people thought of the video.

Omg yay!

Ew why’d they bring her??

Oh my lord Matt and Chris are so hooooot!!!

wow what a fatty

worst special guest ever

boring next

3467 more ⬇️

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as I slammed my lap top shut.

I scrambled to the bathroom, trying to forget the feeling of sadness and dread pool in my stomach.

But I was instantly reminded when I made eye contact with myself in the bathroom mirror.

Wow you really are huge, I thought as I turned to my side, examining myself.

I quickly ran to my bed, desperately trying to fall asleep and get the thoughts out of my head.

-

“Woah, you look rough.” Chris said as I walked into the living room, sitting in the couch and pulling out my phones.

I rolled my eyes at him and shrugged, trying to hide my face behind my hair.

“Hey, sis. I made you a bagel.” Nick said, walking into the living room, sitting next to me, and handing me a paper plate.

I took it and mumbled my thanks to him. My brothers dug into their breakfast, but I just looked at mine, not being able to bring myself to eat it.

Do you know how many calories is in cream cheese?!?

-

“Hey, you okay?” Matt asked me, seeing how I had only taken about 2 and a half bite of my bagel.

“What- oh yeah…I’m good.” I say, nodding my head, trying to sound convincing. He gives me a suspicious look but I quickly play it off.

“I’m not very hungry today, I had snuck early this morning before I went back to sleep.” I lied. Matt looked reassured though.

I only had to keep this up till I was skinny and perfect, shouldn’t be that hard.

The only problem would be keeping this from my brothers.

-

it been a week.

A very, very long week.

Keeping this secret from my brothers just kept getting harder and harder, but I was learning.

“SLS/N! Dinners ready!” Nick yelled up the stairs.

“I need to finish up my project, I’ll be down in a second!” I yelled back. It was a complete lie, I finished the project three days ago.

This excuse would usually work, and he’d save my dinner on a plate. I’d then take it up to my room, and throw it away.

I sat on my bed, computer out, acting like I was doing work.

-

“I need to go switch the laundry, I’ll be right back okay.” Matt said as I started to unpack my dinner about an hour later. I nodded and he went into the laundry room.

I had to be quick.

I chucked my plate up side down into the trash, then covered it with wet paper towels so Chris wouldn’t get suspicious when he took the trash out.

I heard Matt begin to walk upstairs, so this gave me even more time to finish the dishes and clean the kitchen.

-

“SLS/N! Come up here please!” I hear Matt call.

he didn’t sound happy thought. I quickly rush up the stairs and walk to my room.

I open my door to see Matt standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed look on his face. Chris was sitting on my bed, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Nick was holding my trash can in his hands, looking at me with a scared look in his eyes.

I felt dread pool in the bottom of my stomach.

“SLS/N? When’s the last time you ate?” Matt asked slowly.

he looked up at me and I could see tears in the brims of his eyes.

Then I broke.

“I-I can’t do I-i’t!” I said, crumpling onto the floor in sobs.

Matt rushed to my side, kneeling in front of me. “Shh, it’s okay I’m right here.” He says, whispering sweet word in my ears as I calm down.

“SLS/N…What happened?” Chris asked when my breathing had gone back to normal.

I told them all about the hate comments on the video, how they made me feel, and how they hurt me.

“I just hate the way it made me feel. So I thought that I change, it would be easier.” I rambled, tears still flowing out of my eyes.

“SLS/N, starving yourself is not easier, I promise. You’re not perfect, nobody is, so we can’t always have least everyone. Next time we need you to talk to us.” Nick said, coming over to join us, sitting on the floor.

I nodded my head, my lip quivering, afraid if I said a word, the sobs would come back.

Chris came over, wrapping his arms around us all in a great hug.

“We’re always here for you sis, no matter what.” Chris whispered.

omg I’m so sorry if this was shitty. I think I wrote it 30 mins 😭 I promise better content will be coming starting Wednesday.

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[surrogate-fawn]

The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it. 

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did. 

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me. 

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either. 

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go. 

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day. 

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.  

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out. 

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door. 

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway. 

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile. 

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do." 

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it. 

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair. 

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break." 

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually." 

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er." 

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay." 

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?" 

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!" 

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright. 

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!" 

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-." 

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back. 

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.  

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all. 

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?" 

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up." 

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying." 

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?" 

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.  

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time. 

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was. 

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either. 

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there." 

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

 "They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face. 

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food. 

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!” 

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina. 

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry. 

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting. 

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me. 

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life. 

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch. 

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened. 

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all. 

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam. 

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward. 

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset. 

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand. 

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet. 

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!” 

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest. 

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone. 

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum.�� The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . . 

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly. 

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own. 

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

[cemeteryspider]

Ballet on the Bayou Pt. 3

Alastor x Ballerina! Reader

Summary: After the accident on stage Alastor invites her to stay at his home.

Trigger Warnings: Injury, emotional distress, mention of Alastor's (ahem) activities

Word Count: 1055

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Ballet on the Bayou Masterlist

Alastor was made to stay in the waiting room as they set your ankle to the best of their ability and put it in plaster of Paris so it would heal. Even then, they said it would be a long way to being able to walk again. Feebly he brought up the subject of dance, but their silence spoke volumes.

He waited until your ankle had been set into place before he went home to check on his mother, who by this time would be worrying about him.

While he was there he grabbed one of his mother's old skirts and a sweater from their house. Alastor explained the situation to his mother who, as the loving woman she was, told him to offer you a place at their home. She also told him she would have dinner ready for when he returned.

When he got back to the hospital, you were sitting up in the hospital bed happily talking to staff. It seemed like a far departure from how you were mere hours ago.

A nurse pulled him over to the side and calmly explained that you were on pain medicine. He knew that you would be out of it for at least a few more hours.

A simple nod was all he could manage to the nurses, and he shifted his focus to you. He made his way over to your bed.

"Why aren't you just the cat's meow" A slight purr came from her lips with a big smile.

He let himself chuckle, even at the speakeasy a couple drinks in you, you weren't this loose. A warmth crept up his neck and to his cheeks and he hoped that you were too out of it to notice.

"I brought you some clothes, darling, I'm taking you to my house and we can call your folks there"

"Usually a man will take me out to dinner before takin' me home"

His smile was blinding as he left the clothes on your bed, discreetly exiting to give you some privacy. He informed the nurses and helped you sign the release paperwork.

~~~

After safely bringing you home, Alastor observed her peaceful slumber before tending to his mother and eating dinner with her.

She was rushing around the guest bedroom trying to make everything perfect. He knew exactly why. Never once had he shown interest in another human being besides his mother. He made no friends at school, and rarely went out of the house except to the radio station.

It came as a shock to him too when he took such interest up in you. Maybe part of it was just how happy she made him. How quickly he started to change his mind about humanity.

"Mother, we don't know if she wants to stay here"

"Just in case darling-boy"

They continued to sit quietly in the dining room and eat while you slept soundlessly on the couch.

~~~

You woke up to a searing pain in your leg and a vinyl on the record player beside you. In a seat opposite yours sat Alastor.

"Oh good, you're awake" He smiled as you wiped the sand out of your eyes and looked around.

Alastor lived in a modern house with velvety furniture. A massive stone fireplace adorned one wall, a majestic deer head presiding over the room. The crackling flames cast a warm glow, illuminating the velvety furniture that exuded an air of luxury.

"Wow, this place, it's beautiful" You had never seen such a lovely home. This was practically a palace compared to your meager living in a rural small town.

"Ah, thank you Dearie, now would you be staying here? Is there someone whom I could call? Or would you rather a hotel perhaps?" The questions swirled in your head.

"No, nobody to call, I left to pursue my dreams and when I went back to visit they wanted nothing to do with me. I haven't any money..."

"No need to worry about any of that, I will get you a room if you wish, although our guest room is pretty comfortable. Plus you get my mother's cooking"

"You'd let me stay here?" You tried not to get your hopes up, whenever you were with the troupe they always made you sleep on the floor. Or they would kick you out of the room.

"Of course! How could I kick someone as lovely as you out?"

You took the aspirin he guided into your hand and swallowed, hopeful that some of the pain would subside. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You spotted a pair of wooden crutches leaning against the wall, you would never be able to dance if you didn't start walking.

You made a move to stand up. Alastor just tutted and brought the crutches over to you and carefully pulled you up until your forearms rested against the arm rests.

~~~

After giving you a tour and formally introducing you to his mother, who gushed over your beauty and grace on the stage. Profusely apologized for grievous injury, and told you to stay as long as you liked.

Over the months of healing you had ahead of you, you helped her cook in the kitchen, clean around the house, go out for groceries with her, and help her wash and hang up the clothes. It was the kind of domestic life you didn't see in your future, but this somehow felt right.

~~~

Under the cover of night, Alastor silently left the house, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He knew exactly which train to be on to be where your troupe would be now. He also knew exactly how much time he had before he needed to be on the train back in time for breakfast and for his shift at the radio station.

He had everything he could need in the duffle bag at his feet. To any other passenger he was just a guy on a train, maybe going home for a short stay. In reality, he was paying Louise a visit. He couldn't wait to hear her beautiful screams as he wiped the grin off of her conniving face.

The tip of his wingtip shoes played with the bag near his feet, and he tested the weight of the hunting rifle and knifes inside.

[livingdreams97]

Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 4)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 4.581

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Masterlist

Eloise's POV

A couple of hours ago my family arrived at Aubrey Hall and my youngest silings were running around the place like wild animals. My brothers have disappeared and Daphne is with mother, Lady Danbury, Kate and Edwina talking about the season somewhere around the house.

Which left me alone, sitting on an outdoor chair in the mansion's back garden and somewhat bored.

I did not want to participate in the conversation with my sister, mother and others; since the subject does not really interest me. I'd rather be with my brothers, but as soon as we set foot in Aubrey Hall two hours ago they disappeared and have shown no sign of life.

And I'm not going to be running all over the place, like Gregory and Hyacinth were doing.

I just pray that something interesting happens and it can keep me busy at least for a while. Because if this goes on like this, I'll end up cutting myself with the pages of my books and falling apart in the living room floor.

Apparently my prayers are answered, when one of the butlers appears and speaks to me.

XY: Miss Bridgerton, Prince Y/n of Hannover has just arrived and is waiting for you in the hall.- he informed me and I practically jumped out of my seat.

Eloise: That's great. - I comment happily and walking quickly towards the entrance of the mansion.

XY: If you don't need anything else, we'll take the prince's objects to his room assigned by Lady Bridgerton.- he comments when we reach the hall.

Eloise: We don't need anything else, thank you.- I thank him and after a slight bow he takes Y/n's luggage along with another man. -I thought you were never going to get there.- I say amused, crossing my arms and looking at the prince.

Y/n: I had a slight setback.- He informed me without much detail.

Eloise: What kind of setback? - I ask curiously, seeing the amusement in his eyes.

Y/n: One that doesn't concern you.- he answers me with grace and I just look at him badly. -Now, will you grant me the wish to give me a guided tour of the mansion or do I have to ask someone from the service?- he asks amused, raising an eyebrow and looking me straight in the eye.

Eloise: Ask someone from the service.- I answer challengingly, looking for a fun and entertaining reaction from him.

Y/n: I'll do that then.- he assures, leaning over and trying to walk towards the stairs.

Eloise: Where do you think you're going? - I ask amused running towards him and grabbing his arm to stop him.

Y/n: To ask if someone offers to give me a guided tour, since a certain Bridgerton doesn't want to and I don't want to get lost in the place.- he answers humorously and I look at him with narrowed eyes.

Eloise: Idiot.- I muttered hitting his arm. -Now follow me.- I order him and start walking towards the main hall.

I don't turn to see if he's following me or not, but I can hear his hurried footsteps and I smile helplessly, not knowing the reason for said smile.

POV Y/n

I don't know when I went from receiving a tour of the mansion to being in the huge back garden playing pall mall, but here I am now.

Daphne: We all know how the pall mall works.- she assures everyone present. - The first to choose the deck and strike first will be our guest Y/n.- she points to me with her hand and I look at her surprised.

Y/n: I guess thanks.- I appreciate it. -Which one does Eloise usually choose?- I asked Benedict in a whisper quickly.

Benedict: Yellow.- he whispers back to me with his hand in front of his mouth so that no one notices.

I nod surreptitiously and walk over to where all the decks are. I look at each deck and once my eyes land on the yellow one, I reach out without hesitation.

As my fingers wrap around the wood, I look up, meeting Eloise's blue gaze. I smile wickedly as I raised the mallet and I see the scowl on her face.

Y/n: Yellow is my favorite color. - I lie with a smile without taking my eyes off Eloise's.

The rest practically fight over the rest of the decks, before we start the game and the fights between the brothers are present.

Benedict: Eloise don't cheat.- he accuses his sister, who is moving her ball subtly and secretly with her foot.

Y/n: So besides being clumsy at dancing, you're a cheater at the game. - I whisper leaning towards her, so that only she can hear me.

Eloise: Shut up.- she growls at me pushing my chest with her hand.

Colin: Observe and learn people.- he says, positioning himself and hitting the ball with his mallet, but it doesn't go through the hoop.

Anthony: Sorry, what were you saying?- he asks his brother with an amused smile.

Kate: Don't you laugh so much.- she tells her husband, causing a bad face in him and laughter in the rest.

Daphne: None of you should laugh.- she assures everyone, preparing to her his ball with the mallet. -Because I plan to win as always.- she says confidently, hitting the ball and getting it through the hoop.

Benedict: Hey, I'm still in the game.- he reminds his sister with an amused smile.

Eloise: And me.- she assures them placing herself in the middle of everyone. -This year I plan to win.- she tells us all with confidence and I can't help but smile at her confidence.

We continue playing for a while longer, until the game ends and I end up winning to the surprise of everyone present. Although there is no surprise on my part, since I am a very good player and I am passionate about sports.

Y/n: And how about your victory Eloise? - I ask her amused while we all have dinner together.

Eloise: Very funny.- she says sarcastically looking at me with narrowed eyes. -But I know you cheated.- she threatens me seriously.

Y/n: And can you explain to me what cheating are you accusing me of? - I ask her amused, taking a sip of my wine.

Elosie: I don't know, yet.- she answered thoughtfully. -But I'm going to find out how you cheated to win and take away my victory.- she asures me and I just smile delighted.

Y/n: I'll be waiting then.- I assure her with a friendly smile.

The rest of dinner is spent talking to Benedict and Colin about minor trivia. We also make sure to taunt Eloise a bit, loud enough for her to hear us so we can tease her a bit.

When dinner is over, I sneak up to Lady Bridgerton and ask to speak to her in private. We entered the main library of the mansion and we both took a seat in the armchairs of the room.

Violet: And tell me my Lord, what is the reason for this conversation? - she asks me with evident interest.

Y/n: I wanted to talk about a serious and more important topic with you.- I answer trying to hide my nervousness.

Violet: Well, you will say.- she nods giving me the floor.

Y/n: As you may have noticed, I've been spending a lot of time with your daughter and it's clear that we've become somewhat close.- I start seeing how she nods with a small smile. -And I don't want to disrespect you or your family at any time.- I say trying to think of how to explain myself.

Violet: And you haven't.- she assures me with a friendly smile.

Y/n: I'm glad to hear that.- I nod with a nervous smile. -That's why I wanted to talk to you first, because you are Eloise's mother and it seemed the most appropriate thing to do in this situation.- I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. -I wanted to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.- I ask directly.

Violet: Oh my god! - she exclaims in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand.

The room remains completely silent for a few moments, where I play with my hands as a sign of nervousness and uncertainty about the response of the woman in front of me.

Y/n: So what do you say? - I ask her a bit uncomfortable by the silence.

Violet: Of course I'll give you my daughter's hand.- she nods energetically. -As long as Eloise agrees to the proposition, I have nothing against it.- she confirms and I can't help but release the air retained inside me.

Y/n: I'm glad to know that your answer is positive. - I smile letting the retained nerves dissipate from my body.

Now I just have to propose to Eloise publicly and organize the wedding. Since thanks to our agreement, I know that Eloise will agree to marry me and there will be no problem with that part.

Violet: And you already have chosen the ring? - She asks me interested, leaning forward in a show of interest.

Y/n: Yes.- I nod, taking the black velvet box out of my pocket. -What do you think?- I ask, opening the box and showing her the object inside.

Violet: Oh my god, it's so precious.- she whispers, taking the small box in her hands and looking at the ring in greater detail.

Y/n: My aunt gave it to me to propose to your daughter.- I comment, seeing the surprise in her eyes.

Violet: Has the queen chosen the ring for my daughter?- she asks surprised.

Y/n: More than that.- I commented with a slight smile. -That ring was one of the first that my uncle, the King, gave to my aunt many years ago. The emerald is my aunt's favorite stone and she thought that the ring had a deep meaning, so it would be the perfect ring for my future wife. - I tell her and I can see a different shine in her eyes.

Violet: And she's right. Rings with meaning are more unique than any recently bought. - she nods, giving me back the box with the ring.

Y/n: So with your permission, tomorrow I'll ask Eloise for her hand. - I nod, putting the velvet box back in my jacket pocket.

Violet: I just hope my daughter says yes, because it would be a pleasure to have you as part of the family.- she tells me and we both get up, ending the conversation.

We left the library, saying goodnight and parting ways. I head towards the bedroom assigned to me and on the way I meet Eloise with her little sister.

In order not to arouse any kind of suspicion, I wish them both a good night and secretly nod to my future fiancée.

I can see her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what my nod means and she gives me a slight nod letting me know she's understood.

Now I just have to think about how to ask for her hand tomorrow and do it in a way so that her family believes that we are really in love. But with how good of an actress Eloise is, I'm sure everyone will believe us right away without any problem.

Eloise's POV

I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? This is simply a trade and there is no reason to be nervous.

I just have to say a simple yes and the rest of my life will be taken care of. I will be completely free and I will stop feeling any kind of pressure to get married or find a husband. It is a simple word that will open all doors for me.

This is a simple transaction, there are no feelings involved and that's why I don't understand the reason for my nerves.

My hands tremble as they caress the soft fabric of my white dress, feeling the softness and delicacy of silk.

Violet: You look beautiful honey.- she whispers looking at my reflection in the mirror over my shoulder.

Eloise: I'm not going out. - I deny energetically.

Violet: And why is that dear? - she asks me interested with a smile on her face.

Eloise: I don't know if I'm ready to get married.- I answer, feeling my heart beat faster.

Violet: Oh dear.- she sighs placing her hands on my arms. -It's the nerves that are speaking.- she assures me caressing my arms with affection.

Eloise: Why would I be nervous? - I ask confused, feeling a certain amount of comfort from her touch.

Violet: Because it's one of the most important days for a woman, darling.- she answers with an understanding look. -The day of my wedding with your father, I was trembling with nerves and anticipation. It is understandable to feel nervous on your wedding day and especially when you love the person you will marry.- she tries to comfort me and I avoid opening my eyes for the last part.

Eloise: How did you know you loved father? - I ask a little scared by her answer.

Violet: I wouldn't know how to explain it.- she sighs with a slight grimace. -What I do know is that every time I thought of him, a smile appeared on my face without even noticing it, my stomach turned when he was near me, my skin quivered every time he touched my hand and every time that I was doing something i liked; immediately I wanted to share it with him.- she tells me and I remain thoughtful.

I think about the times when a smile adorned my face when I thought of Y/n, about how being with him makes me enjoy someone else's company and the long talks we have.

I think about how an essential warmth invades my body when he is near me, when he smiles at me or when he brings me books thinking that I might like them.

I find that every time I read a new book, I think about whether he would like to read it so we can discuss it together.

Finally, I am aware of how in the few times he has touched my hand and kissed it, my body reacts to his touch. I can remember the pleasant tingling that runs through my body at his touch and it is now when I open my eyes in surprise.

Eloise: I love Y/n.- I murmured without really knowing what to do.

I feel my mind go around and around without really knowing how it happened. At what point have I gone from supporting Y/n, accepting his proposal and maintaining a friendly relationship, to loving him.

Violet: Why else would you have agreed to marry him?- she asks with a certain degree of amusement in her tone of voice.

Eloise: I have to talk to Y/n.- I say alarmed.

Violet: You'll see him at the altar in a few minutes and then you can talk to him all you want.- she assures me with a smile.

Eloise: No mom .- I deny turning around and looking around upset. -I need to talk to him now!- I assured him in a hurry trying to dodge her and go looking for him.

Violet: No, no, no.- she denies grabbing my arm and preventing me from leaving the room. -The groom can't see the bride before the wedding.- she immediately denies.

Eloise: You don't understand mom, I have to talk to him.- I beg desperately and a few seconds away from a desperate cry.

Violet: Honey, calm down.- she asks me, caressing my arms again. -Take a deep breath and inhale slowly.- she orders me and I nod trying to regulate my breathing.

Once I am calmer, my mother takes me to the sofa in one of the many rooms in the palace and makes me sit down.

Violet: Are you feeling better?- she asks me and I nod, taking a deep breath once more.

Eloise: Yes.- I murmur directing my gaze to my hands, which are still trembling and apparently my mother notices as she places her hands on mine.

Violet: You don't have to get upset darling, everything will be fine and you don't have to get so nervous.- she assures me. -You're just nervous, just breathe and try to relax.- she tells me and I nod trying to stop my hands from shaking.

We stay in silence for a few minutes, where I manage to calm down enough so that my hands stop shaking.

Some light knocks are heard at the door of the room and Benedict's head appears through it.

Benedict: Everything is ready.- he tells us entering the room. -They are waiting for the bride.- he says with a smile and I take a deep breath.

Violet: Are you ready? - she asks me and I am only able to nod. -Well then, let's get going.- she says getting up from the sofa and helping me to get up too.

I walk to where my brother is, who immediately smiles at me and gives me his arm to intertwine with mine.

With each step I take toward the ceremony room, my heart pounding in my ears and my breathing becoming heavy. I swallow heavily, when my brother stops in front of the closed living room doors and looks at me for approval.

I stay for a few moments watching the big white doors of the room, as soon as they open everything will be real and I'll be walking towards my future husband.

I don't know what to do.

If I go through with the plan and say yes, I'll be marrying the man I love. But he doesn't love me and it doesn't seem fair.

And on the other hand, if I decide to run away and leave the plan behind, everyone will start talking about me and my family again. My family has already suffered a lot with the rumors and above all thanks to me.

Plus it wouldn't be the first time a Bridgerton wedding has been called off and we all know how that ended.

But that is not the worst.

The worst thing is that this time the queen is not only the hostess of the wedding, but she is the aunt of the future husband and that will cause me to be banished from London.

Because what Lady Whistledown wrote about me being a political radical turned her against me and made her have a bad opinion of me. I don't want to imagine the opinion she'll have of me if I leave her heir standing at the altar.

Benedict: Are you okay? - he asks me in a whisper taking me out of my thoughts.

Eloise: I don't know.- I answer honestly.

Benedict: It's not too late, you know right? - he asks me causing me to look at him confused.

Eloise: Late for what? - I ask wanting to understand what my brother tells me.

Benedict: Too late to cancel the wedding.- he answers me with a comforting smile. -Just tell me and we'll run away like no one has ever done before.- he assures me with a small laugh.

I watch him for a few seconds, considering the offer and weighing every possible outcome of my escape. The idea sounds tempting and I'm sure Benedict will defend me and help with everything.

You're POV

I swallow heavily, running my hands through my morning coat and wiping the sweat from my hands. I watch the guests talk to each other in whispers, causing my nervousness to increase and a knot to form in my stomach.

Lady Bridgerton has entered the room almost ten minutes ago, but she has entered alone and no one has entered after her.

She's supposed to be with Eloise, to help her get ready and her presence here assures me that Eloise is ready. But it doesn't show up anywhere, because she is nowhere to be seen.

I look over to where my aunt is sitting for comfort, seeing the impatience and worried look on her face. She seems to notice my look, as she offers me a small smile and a reassuring nod.

But I can't calm down when I feel hundreds of eyes on me and I can hear the murmurs of those present.

My gaze then falls on where the Bridgertons are sitting, muttering and talking a little erratically to each other. That alarms me even more.

What if Eloise regrets the deal and backs out? What if she leaves me standing at the altar?

That would explain the lateness and the stressed look on the face of the Bridgertons family matriarch. Maybe she already knows and is telling the rest of the family.

My breath stops when the doors of the room open and one of my aunt's waiters enters the room.

XY: Miss Eloise Bridgerton by the hands of Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.- he announces and I can feel myself breathing again.

But as soon as I start to breathe, the air gets stuck in my throat and it's because of something else entirely.

My mind goes completely blank as I see Eloise in her wedding dress with her hair up in a high bun. The light that enters through the windows of the room illuminates her dress and she looks like a complete angel.

The train of the dress trails gently across the floor, as does her veil, which rests just in front of the updo on her head and at the beginning of the train of her dress.

I'm not aware of the moment when Eloise has reached my side and Benedict offers me her hand. I'm only aware when my soon-to-be wife's brother clears his throat and the noise snaps me out of my reverie.

Y/n: Sorry.- I whisper embarrassed, feeling the heat flood my cheeks and receiving my fiancée's hand.

Benedict: Take care of her.- he threatens me seriously, before walking away and sitting with the rest of the family.

Priest: We are gathered here to celebrate the union between Prince Y/n of Hannover and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.- he begins to speak, but I only observe Eloise's profile and try to be as discrete as possible. -Love is something... ... ... ....- He speaks but I ignore him, looking only at the woman to my left. -Now I want you to repeat with me, you first prince. With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- he says and I look at the priest paying attention to him again .

Y/n: With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- I recite while staring at her eyes, receiving the ring from the priest and placing it on her finger.

Priest: Now your tourn Miss Bridgerton.- he says, offering her the other ring and I can see how she takes it with a trembling hand.

Eloise: With this ring, I take you Y/n from Hannover as my husband, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- she says nervously and shakily placing the ring on my finger.

Priest: With this exchange of rings, this marriage unites and will be consolidated with a kiss.- he says and I look nervously at the woman in front of me. -You can kiss each other.- he tells us.

I take a deep breath, before taking a step forward closing my eyes and leaning down feeling the erratic beating of my heart.

For a moment, my heart stops completely when my lips make contact with hers, and I can feel her breathing stop.

As we break from the kiss, I open my eyes to look at my now wife and see that she's still keeping them closed. I smile at the image and when she opens her eyes, she immediately smiles back at me.

I extend my hand to her, which she immediately entwines with hers and I direct her towards the large backyard where the celebration will take place.

Eloise: I have to talk to you.- she whispers so that only I can hear heron our walk outside.

Y/n: Bad or good? - I ask confused, smiling at the guests.

Eloise: It depends.- she answers me, doing the same action as me.

Y/n: Okay.- I nod almost imperceptibly.

But as soon as we set foot in the garden, people come to greet us and congratulate us on the wedding. Every time we try to get away so we can talk, someone steps up and stops that from happening.

But I take advantage of a moment when everyone is watching the fireworks, to grab Eloise by the hand and pull her behind some tall hedges a bit away from the crowd.

Y/n: What did you wanted to talk about? - I ask her in a whisper, not wanting to speak too loud and be heard.

Eloise: It's about the agreement.- she whispers, looking around making sure there's no one around.

Y/n: What about the agreement? - I ask completely confused.

Eloise: What happens if there is something that alters or changes the agreement? - she answers me with another question.

Y/n: I don't know.- I answer honestly. -I couldn't know if something could alter or change our agreement, if I don't know what it is about.- I clarify and see how she bites her lower lip nervously.

Eloise: Hypothetically speaking.- she clarifies nervously and I nod. -What would happen if one of the two parties ends up falling in love with the other party?- she asks, looking anywhere but at me and my heart races.

Y/n: Hypothetically speaking? - I ask and she nods. -That maybe the other party has also fallen in love.- I admit feeling the heat on my cheeks from shame.

She opens her eyes wide, directing her gaze to me and staring at me. I try to calm my heart; not wanting to have a heart attack.

Eloise: You...? - she asks me uncertainly, pointing to herself and I nod nervously.

Y/n: And you..? - I ask in the same way, pointing to me and she nods, joining her lips in a straight line.

Eloise: And now what? - she asks, avoiding my gaze and I decide to be brave.

I take two steps towards her, moving closer to her body and gently placing my hand on her chin. I force her head up and look at me, before I say what I've wanted to say for a month.

Y/n: Do you want to see the world with me? - I ask with a small nervous smile.

Eloise: Yes.- she nods with a slight redness on her cheeks after a couple of seconds.

I can't stand her closeness anymore, so I finish bringing my face closer to hers and I put our lips together again.

This time, the kiss is longer and lets us release all the feelings we had stored. My hands are placed on her waist, to be able to bring her closer to me and to be able to hug her by the hip against my body.

While her hands go up my arms and intertwine with each other at the nape of my neck.

We kiss until the air becomes necessary and we put our foreheads together to maintain the closeness between our faces.

Y/n: I love you.- I admit for the first time out loud without taking my eyes off hers.

Eloise: I love you.- she whispers and this time she is the one who brings our lips together in a hungry kiss.

If someone had told me that an agreed marriage proposal would have led me to meet the love of my life, I would never have believed it.

But fate is capricious and you never know where it will turn out.

But looking back from the backyard of my mansion with my wife, where I am playing with our four children and my beautiful wife is reading a book in a chair in the sun, that proposition was the wisest choice of my life.

THE END

[jaestrz]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝 - 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞 종진락

૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა *ੈ✩‧₊˚

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff | idol!au

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: chenle x afab reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: none

≡;- ꒰ °he would always be the first person to make sure you would always feel loved. Including his own family.꒱

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･a/n: I can’t help but think about that ‘one night sleepover trip’ chenle and he looks so comforting when he’s with his family. Disclaimer: since in the program he was just 17/18, in this story he’s 19/20 to make it more appropriate.

The soft touch of his hand caressed your hair, ignoring whatever his aunt was chatting about. Oh my god he was falling in love with you every single day. With the way his family loves you, your passion to even hear his little aunt’s talkative conversations even though he told you many times that it’s okay if you didn’t want to hear it. It got to the point where the moment he went back to China without you, that’s when the million questions were going to be asked. Starting from his aunts. Although you do visit his relatives when the both of you had a chance to go home.

You were here to help Chenle’s family with a program show.

“i feel like little aunt was a lot more quieter before y/n was here." Sangmin laughed followed by others. "I can see she likes y/n a lot."

"she adores y/n. The whole family does, sometimes I would get an earful from them if I didn't bring y/n if I came home." Chenle explained.

There was something about the way you treat his family like your own really proofed your sincerity. You couldn't get bored hearing his relatives voice every single time you came over. But then again, the distance between your family and his was more to a 1 hour drive.

Very sweet of him to drive 1 hour just to see you when you both sleep on the same bed everyday at Korea. But you do feel guilty because he probably felt exhausted.

"do you love your son's partner?" you helped Chenle with the translations and a smile grew on his mom's face. The woman nodded. "of course! It's really sad to not have her around. I see her performances when I miss her." And the subject went on for a while. Mostly questions about background stories and something about tradition in China that you didn’t quite focus on.

Maybe it wasn’t truly your fault that you didn’t caught up with whatever subject they were talking about. Jet lagged was definitely hitting you while you were talking with Chenle’s mom. With the bright lights in the living room and kitchen, definitely didn’t help the burning throb in your head. It was making your mind fuzz. Though you realised that you had to go back home unless you’re planning to drive at night.

At the same time, everyone looked so happy to be here. Maybe the time could wait a little while.

You don’t think you had talked a full and proper conversation with Chenle since both of you had stepped inside the house so when he approached you at the kitchen alone while you drank a glass of water, he wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin rested on top of your head. “Don’t go. Stay with me hm?” The way he made it sound more convincing and hopeful really made you think twice. No, you can’t do that. You didn’t want to give Chenle’s mom a hard time.

Inhaling the scent of his cologne made it a little helpful to ease the pain. You turned around, facing him. “Your mom and aunts had enough guest love. Our distance are literally 1 hour and 42 minutes away.” You replied but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Chenle.

“Exactly. It’s far, mom and dad are not home, neither your siblings. There’s your favourite clothes i keep in my closet.” It became normal for him and you to just call each other parents “mom” or “dad”. Less confusing according to Chenle. “I’m not letting you drive along the highway at this hour. You’re not even well. No one is going to take care of you if you go home.” You snuggled in his chest while he convinces you not to go.

“Netflix can accompany me.”

“y/n I swear to god. I will unsubscribe our description.”

He lightly pinched your waist making you shift from the tickle. The kitchen was filled with the sound of yours and Chenle’s laughter.

No denial that it was dark. The dim moonlight was the only thing that made the room lit.

“I will literally ask mom to give you an earful if you’re going home in this condition. She really wants you to come with us to visit grandfather tomorrow. mom-” you covered his mouth to stop him from calling his mom.

After a few more moments and a bit more convincing, Chenle managed to win over you. The moment both of you were in bed, you buried your face in his chest while the both of your legs tangled in each other. This was his favourite moment. Spending time with his family with the love of his life without having any worries.

People can say how lucky he is to be loved by many people but one thing for sure that he will forever cherish is that you and his family were a comfort crowd to him.

[itsscromp]

Home for Christmas

I've decided to give you all a Christmas gift before I sign off for a couple of days. @callofdudes this includes you too. I cant wait to chat with you again soon. Word count:1.2K

You completely lost track on how fast the year went since Price tasked you with helping Farah and Alex. After the mission you went on, you came back to find some of the agents were packing up. "Alex, what's going on ??" You looked at him confusingly.

"It's Christmas y/n" He smiled "They're all getting ready to head back home"

You looked at your phone's calendar, yep it was December alright, now normally this would be cool. But when you contacted Price, you heard that they all made plans of their own, Johnny would Bring Simon to Scotland to meet his family. Gaz has gone back his partner and price was getting ready to head back to london too.

You didn't have any family to go back too, all you had was your empty apartment, probably covered in dust now. Before the 141 you would always go back to your dad and spend Christmas with him, But sadly he died by the time you joined them and all that was left was your mom, but you and her were not on good terms.

Alex could see the sadness in your eyes, was Christmas not the best time for you ?? He sat there thinking what he could do to cheer you up. Then it hit him, What is better then going back home for Christmas ?? Going back home to spend Christmas with your best pal.

He went to your bunk and knocked on the door. "Y/n, Got a second ??"

"Hey Alex, what's up ??" You looked up at him.

"I was wondering, you got any plans for the holidays ??" He leaned against the doorframe.

"Ummm. I was gonna go home.."

"Ba bum, Wrong, try again" He smiled softly.

You grew confused as to what he was offering. "I'll go elsewhere..??"

"So so close, I'll give you a hint" he pointed to himself.

"Go with you for Christmas ??"

"B b b bingo !!!' He smiled, ruffling your hair. "Figured I'd keep you company for the month. Come on it'll be fun"

You were taken aback by the offer, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

The two began to pack their bags for the plane and then soon they were on their way to Alex's hometown. The crisp winter wait hit your senses. It was a much-needed relief, no snow though but that's not bad still. Alex then booked the car and the two got your luggage and headed on your way. You looked out the window and watched the city go by, Alex lived about a couple of hours away from the main city. "Just quieter there than being here ya' know ??" he turned to you before looking back at the road. "Yeah I get that"

Arriving at his house, you got out and got in a much-needed stretch as you then got your bag from the car, Waiting for Alex to unlock and open the door. Inviting you inside, his place wasn't too bad.

"It ain't much, but it's home" He sighed contently as he dropped his bag on the floor. "Right your room" He smiled and guided you to the neatly presented guest bedroom. "You'll have your own bathroom in here too, so make yourself at home" He smiled as he then went back to the living room, flopping down on the couch and taking his leg off, Letting his kin breathe.

You then unpacked your bag and flopped on the bed, getting a much-needed nap in. A little while later, you were awakened by an... amazing delicious smell. Investigating soon after, you found Alex in the kitchen, cooking delicious steaks for you both. Waddling to the kitchen, you gently pressed your forehead against his shoulder, humming softly.

"Hey buddy, Sleep ok ??' Alex smiled as he rubbed your back.

Nodding against his shoulder you then looked over at the steaks, oh they looked so good to eat right about now. "They'll be ready soon ok ??"

You nodded and then stood back up, helping set the table before he plated you both up. By the god it was easily the best steak you have ever eaten, no steakhouse could rival Alex. After dinner you two decided to decorate the house with Christmas decorations, Alex being the goofball he is, wrapped tinsel around you as you were decorating. "Alex !!" You laughed. "What, you make a great Christmas tree y/n" He smirked.

The rest of the night was filled with giggles before jet lag caught up to you both. You bid goodnight to him before heading to your room, changing into your pyjamas and crashing. The next morning, you woke up to find a certain bestie cuddled up to you. Laying an arm across you to keep you close, drool hitting his pillow. You could only smile and snuggle up to him, deserving a much needed sleep in.

The rest of the vacation was super fun, Alex showed you his freaking gaming room. He had a huge collection !!! You two played video games throughout. It was just an amazing time. But never forgetting, you went out and did some Christmas shopping too, gifts to send to the 141 for when they get back eventually. then a few for Alex. Now what would he like ??

You thought that until you came across a shop window that had a figurine... wait... this was the character he ranted on about, it was his favourite character as a kid. Astro boy. Without hesitating you went inside and got it. After that, you then got a few other things that he might like. Once mailing the 141's gifts to the post office, you headed back and then went to work wrapping them up. Oh, he was going to love this.

Christmas day.

You awoken once again to Alex cuddled up to you, the boy needs his Christmas cuddles !!! You snuggled up to him again and Alex woke up to the slight shifting. "Morning pal" He smiled.

"Hey, Alex... Merry Christmas" You looked up at him smiling softly. The two stayed snuggled up for a little while, you melted as he began to massage your scalp, This was nice.

Once you both fully woke up, you then went to the living room and then sat down in front of the tree, beginning to open your gifts. Alex handed you a small box, He looked really eager for you to open it. Once you opened it, Inside was a snow globe, but inside the snow globe. some figurines looked like... you and Alex. "There was this place in town that can let you get custom-made ones, thought it'd be a fun touch" He smiled as you shook the globe. You placed it down and then hugged him tightly. "I love it" You smiled brightly.

He hugged you back just as tight, It showed how much you meant to him, His best friend.

You then let go and then handed him his gift, you were nervous but also excited. His eyes went wide as he got the paper off. "NO WAY ASTRO BOY !!!" He shrieked and stood up, zooming around with it singing the theme song, making you laugh. Oh he was such a freaking goofball, This was easily the best Christmas you and Alex have ever had.

A/N: Before I sign off, I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy new year, I can't wait to get back on here and see the amazing ideas that will bring me in 2024. :D

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

hi! still a bit busy, but even tho i’m late i wanted to write a really quick piece in honor of aaron warner’s birthday 🫶 enjoy this drabble (small mature warning for ending)

“c’mon on! we’ve got to celebrate!”

“no, love, it’s not necessary.”

“please.” you tug on the sleeve of aaron’s jacket in a gesture to get him to face you and your puppy dog eyes, one’s you knew he couldn’t resist.

you both were going back and forth on the topic of aaron’s birthday. you were adamant on throwing a small celebration in honor of his 21st. but all aaron wanted to do was nothing, literally. he didn’t even want to acknowledge the day.

so here you both were, on a walk around the park nearest to your place, going back and forth on the decision of how to celebrate aaron’s birthday. but you both now circled your way back to your front door. you were determined to get his permission to plan a party before this walk ended.

aaron sighs, looking ahead then turning his neck down towards you. you can see he’s on the verge of giving in, so you stick your bottom lip out, making a pout.

“alright, fine. if you wish to organize a celebration then i’ll let yo-“

you squeal, cutting him off mid-sentence. a huge grin plasters over your face. you go up on your tippy-toes and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

aaron’s heart warms to see your giddy expression. he would’ve said yes sooner had he known you’d be so excited.

“you won’t regret it. i swear!”

“as long as you’re present my love, i’ll be okay with anything.” aarons says as his hand moves to cup the side of your face.

“great.” you begin, moving your hand to the door knob of the front door. “because i already planned it.”

as soon as your words end, you open the door fully to reveal a crowd of people awaiting in your living room. they all yell out “surprise” as soon as aaron walks into the threshold.

while aaron’s body was unphased, his face gave away how taken aback he was by the sudden revelation.

he shake his head and turn to you with a playful glare, “so you’ve been stalling me this whole time.”

you give him a sheepish look, “i would say sorry, but i’m very happy with how i was able to catch you off guard.”

aaron squints at you and pounces his hands to your side, wiggling his fingers in your most ticklish areas. you squirm in his grip, trying to maneuver a way to freedom, all while laughing hysterically.

his tickle attack comes to a halt, after much of your pleading for him to stop. aaron pulls you into a hug, and you take a moment to catch your breath.

“thank you, angel.” aaron uses a hand to lift your chin up to face him. “for planning this. i adore it.”

“you haven’t even seen the whole party yet.” you counter.

“i don’t need to. the fact you took the time to do this for me is enough to love it.” he responds, looking at you with devoting eyes.

your heart swells with each of his loving words. sometimes it was hard to believe he was anything other than your adoring boyfriend.

“of course. i’d do anything for you, i love you.” you say with sincerity.

“and i love you, my beautiful girl.” he replies.

aaron leaving down to meet his lips with your in a kiss that never fails to make you weak in the knees. it was perfect.

“enough pda, there are children present!” kenji hollers a few feet away.

you break away from the kiss with a laugh while aaron face shifts to the disdain of hearing kenji’s voice.

it was going to be a long night.

-

hours later, when happy birthday has been sung, candles blown, gifts given, and all the guest were on their way to their homes — you and aaron got ready for bed.

aaron already situated himself under the comforter of your shared bed. unbeknownst to him, you were readying one last surprise for the night.

“love, where’d you go-“

“happy birthday dear aaron, happy birthday to you.” you sing the tune to the birthday song as you walk into your bedroom holding a small chocolate frosted cake with wonky letters saying “happy birthday aaron!” & a couple of lighted candles randomly placed. it was very obviously homeade.

aaron grins at your entrance, laughing a bit at your imperfect cake. maybe decorating cales as a job wasn’t in your future, but he loved it anyway.

you bring the cake infront of him, “make a wish!” you encourage aaron.

“how can i, when you’re everything i want and more.” he proclaims.

you roll your eyes, “okay, mr. poet, just blow out your candles before the wax melts in the cake!”

he laughs and does as he’s told, blowing all the fire away in one breathe.

as aaron does so, he gets a look at your attire. you’re wearing a pink babydoll nightgown was lace details. its material is very thin and flowy, allowing him to see your matching lace panties underneath.

aaron warner was hungry for something sweet in front of him, and it wasn’t for the chocolate cake you made.

“hey, love?” he says, grabbing the plate of cake and setting it aside.

“yeah?” you ask with a tilt if the head.

“lay down on the bed and lift your hips for me. i’m gonna unwrap and enjoy my first gift.”