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#i will miss the lays love story

teodorable · 1 year

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Team getting all those chips with all the Lays literally right next to it was so damn painful.

Like I understand sponsorships changing and everything but I'm gonna be salty about it for a long time.

#between us #between us the series #between us ep4 #thai bl #it was his entire character in uwma #i will miss the lays love story #justice for team x lays

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neo-nomatrix · 4 months

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Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo x you

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taylor-titmouse · 2 months

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hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

#tt talks writing #tt talks drawing

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angelltheninth · 4 months

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Genshin Men + Yeah Sex is Great But...

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Ayato, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Reader

Tags: fluff, cuddles, kissing, quality time, teasing, sparring, workplace romance, massage

A/N: I donno, I'm ace and this was funny. This is a meme post more then anything.

Have you considered watching the night sky with Kaeya where you can point out the names of the stars and make up new ones, with you laying your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Have you considered closing up the winery with Diluc and dancing in the now dim lighting, your hand in his, the dance so slow it almost seems to stop time entirely.

Have you considered breaking Itto out of jail and the two of you running away hand in hand, finding a perfect hiding spot so he can then lift you up and thank you with as many kisses as you can count.

Have you considered welcoming Thoma back after an errand and going over his task list with him only to have him say he's taking the day off so because he misses holding you.

Have you considered bringing a drink to Ayato and him taking your hand and kissing it to show his gratitude, his thanks that you're always thinking about him and then being pulled onto his lap.

Have you considered sparring with Childe but neither of you can really fight each other because you keep flirting so in the end you end up cuddling and giving each other compliments.

Have you considered accidentally messing up research with Dottore so you have to spend all day fixing it under his supervision where you get kisses and praise every time you get things right.

Have you considered letting Pantalone rest his head in your lap while he reads over the latest reports, listening to his voice, so soft it can almost lull you to sleep as he goes on for hours.

Have you considered making Neuvillette take a break by taking him on a long walk where he can let his emotions out in the rain and can make a rainbow appear when you kiss him to make him feel better.

Have you considered giving a massage to Wriothesley after a long day and running your hands up and down his back, listening to him sigh and relax under your fingers, just melting into your touch.

Have you considered spending the afternoon listening to Zhongli tell you the stories of his earlier days, of the things he did, the people he met, and how lucky he feels now having met the love of his life.

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thefallofruins · 5 months

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── “Inconvenience” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Request — I love love love love love your fav concubine/queen stories with sukuna 😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️ can I request a story where for the concubine rides sukuna's tummy tongue until he's completely satisfied , like edge play/multiple orgasm or pregnant sex where the queen is really needy and horny for her husband after he has spent so much time outside.

A/N — hi nonnie, tysm for requesting <3 hope you don't mind, but I went with preggo sex cuz I'm not comfy writing fics with his belly mouth involved yet, so I'm really sorry. Hope you enjoy this though.

Warnings — pregnant sex, praise, creampie, nipple play, true form! Sukuna Minors DNI

"S'kuna, missed you so much..." you mumble softly, face buried in his chest. He was met by such an adorable sight the moment he returned— his adorable, pretty lil wifey with a small yet visible baby bump rushing to greet him and capturing him in a hug. He chuckles, patting your head softly.

"That so? just how much did you miss me, my Queen?" he places a finger beneath your chin, gently nudging you to look up at him. One of his other hands are placed on your hip, his thumb tracing your slightly swollen belly.

"Too much, Sukuna..." you reply with a frown. Your hormones were driving you mad. Carrying the child of the king of curses wasn't easy, your needs increased phenomenally. You needed Sukuna more than ever, you needed him to be by your side, saying soft and comforting things to you, reminding you of how good you are, how proud he is of you for carrying his little heir.

He chuckles again, a hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Well, I'll have to apologise to my Queen for causing her such inconvenience, no?"

"You better," you pout, tiptoeing in an attempt to get a kiss. He smiles and pulls you close, bending a bit to give you a well-deserved kiss. You whimper softly as he bites your lower lip, his tongue swirling around yours, driving you crazy. You needed him so, so, so bad.

He parts, allowing you your oxygen, a thumb tracing your lower, swollen lips slightly. Goodness, you had gotten so beautiful with his heir growing in you. A hand traces the line of your back, causing shivers to run down your spine, "My beautiful queen..."

A short gasp escapes you as his fingers finds your loosely tied obi— untying it in a single moment. Your kimono loosely falls at your sides, and Sukuna gently places you back on your bed where you lay resting before his return. He presses a few kisses on the soft skin of your neck, relishing your scent— one he had to unwillingly part from for a few days.

"Magnificent..." he mutters, trailing kisses before stopping at the swell of your breasts, which had swollen significantly thanks to the pregnancy. He chuckles darkly, cupping your sore tit with one hand, making you whine softly before his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking deviously on the sore skin.

"N–Ngh...S'kuna..." you let out a soft moan, fingers tugging on his pink hair slightly as you feel the wetness grow between your thighs. You rub your legs together to soothe the growing ache. Sukuna, noticing soon, parts from your nipple with a smile, a string of saliva dissolving as he does.

"Feeling needy, are we?" he speaks, his finger reaching below to trace your dripping folds from over the cloth. "Ah...so needy, my queen." he chuckles, feeling the wetness grow and watching you squirm, eyes pleading him to continue.

"Speak, my Queen..." he smirks, teasing you by torturously tracing his finger up and down, finding your sensitive clit. You're a mess and he hasn't even begun yet.

"S-Sukuna–ah, please!" the plea escapes your lips, "N-Need you," you say in a raspy voice. The hormones had gotten you so needy and sensitive for him. He chuckles, the no-good panties ripped off from you in an instant, revealing your glistening cunt.

"How cute." he smirks, beginning to undress himself, the kimono falling off his body, the silk material falling of his body. You eye your husband with your needy eyes— making quite a cute sight for his. He reveals his cock– veiny, throbbing, pre-cum dripping down from his tip. Such a sight could make you drool on spot...

"Ready, my Queen?" he asks, a smile on his lips as he rubs the tip against your puffy lips. You give him a weak nod, as he prods his cock into your entrance, making you gasp at the sensation of his girth slowly filling up your tight entrance. "S-Sukuna!"

He enters your heat fully, making you feel every inch of him, and added your grown sensitivity from your hormones— every push, every pull, every caress on your skin, it drove you crazy. "O-Oh, Sukuna-Ah!" you moan, wrapping your hands weakly around his neck.

He begins to rock his thick length in and out of your tight cunt, which welcomed it warmly, squeezing around it everytime. He groans, feeling the slick coat his cock, feeling the warmth of your sweet cunt tightening around him, leaning down to kiss you and leave your lips swollen, feeling your round tits bounce up and down with each thrust against his chest.

"Cum for me, my precious..." he grunts, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him a bit more, knowing you're nearing your sweet release. "Mnhh...S'kuna!!" you moan out loudly, a clear liquid gushing over his cock as your walls clamp around him, your head buried in the crook of his neck, making him grin merrily.

A few more thrusts, and he finds himself close to release too, he grunts audibly before emptying his seed into you. A soft whine escapes your lips as you feel the warm sticky liquid fill you up, feeling more sensitive than ever. He pulls out, looking at his cum gush out of your cunt slowly, proud of the mess he created.

His eyes shift back at your tired form, and he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, gently brushing the strands of your hair from my face before he grins at you, "Hope that was enough to make up for the inconvenience caused."

You, through heavy breaths, manage to give him a soft and sweet smile, "Will do..."

He smiles at your response, laying himself beside you, kissing your forehead softly. His fingers gently traces the swell of your belly. "You did well, my love..." he says softly, allowing you to rest as you cuddle up to him.

A hand rests on your head and the other on your belly, he's enthralled by the fact that there's a tiny version of him on the way. And you're the one who's giving him this blessing. His precious queen.

"I'm so proud of you," he mutters softly, kissing the top of your head. That's the last thing you hear before slipping into sleep's sweet embrace.

#jujutsu sukuna #jjk smut #ruins posts #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna fluff #true form sukuna #sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

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No one asked but I’ve decided to post one of my favorite original smut works!

Yandere Short Story: Insatiable

Yandere monster x Afab reader x Yandere ex fiancé

Minors DNI

8.4k words

“Cedric?” A tall, dark haired man glanced up from his paper work to see his small wife at the door. His red eyes gazing at her coldly. “Oh, sorry… my lord. You didn’t reply to any of my letters so I decided to come see you myself. I was wondering if you had time to-“

“I’m busy with work. How about you go take a walk or something seeing that you’re not busy with anything.” Cedric replied coldly, causing the young woman to glance sadly at her hands.

“Oh… I’m sorry-“

“Stop with your needless apologies and shut my door. You’re letting the cold air in.” Cedric hissed before returning to his mountain of paper work.

“Good bye, my lord.” (Your name) softly whispered, a sad look in her eye. The young woman shutting the door before looking at the small, cloth bag beside her. Its contents being one change of clothes, a pouch of water, and some bread.

(Your name) had finally decided to leave him. Her feelings for him had gradually disappeared over the years of being engaged to him seeing that he couldn’t even return a fraction of what she felt for him. It was time for her to leave this loveless, joyless place and to go live as a commoner. Hopefully Cedric would eventually read the letter she had sent him a few days ago about annulling their marriage.

The young woman pulled her tattered cloak over her head, making her way down the manor’s steps with ease.

Not a single servant paying her any mind. A smile made its way to her lips at the thought of finally no longer having to sit in her cold room up in the tower. How she’d be able to travel wherever she wanted and maybe she’d even find someone to love her eventually. How she could finally have friends that didn’t need her husband to pay them to talk to her.

(Your name) soon stood outside the gloomy palace, a smile on her lips. The young woman giving the palace one last look before she headed into the forest.

“Good bye. I won’t miss you.” She then headed into the dark silent forest. Set on leaving the Southern empire forever.

“This tea is bland and terrible.” Cedric complained to his maid who began to sweat nervously. “Why isn’t it here on its usual time and why isn’t it its normal flavor?”

“Ah… the duchess usually takes care of that…” the maid replied before giving the lord a bow. “None of us have seen her in awhile so we had to brew some older leaves.”

Cedric sighed before rising from his chair, causing the maid to gulp at how large he was.

“That stupid woman. I’ll go see what she’s up to now then I guess.” Cedric made his way towards the east end of the manor, climbing up the flight of stairs to (your name)’s room.

A frown forming on his face when he didn’t see a single servant on this side of the manor. Where were all the servants? Shouldn’t she have some around here to clean it?

Cedric stood before the door at the top of the tower. His hand pressing against the old wood. A frown on his face.

“My lady. Can you open the door?” No response.

“My lady?�� Cedric pressed his knuckle against the door, causing the door to squeal open. Red eyes widening in shock at the tattered blanket that sat on top of a pile of hay. This couldn’t be her room…

Where was her bed? Her dresses? Cedric burst into the room examining everything in disbelief.

“Can I lay with you, Cedric? It’s starting to get cold?”

Cedric frowned at the memory. (Your name) really was cold wasn’t she? And he always turned her away…

A small desk with letters littering the top of it caught his attention. Was this the only thing she had in her room? As a duchess, she only had this small desk?

Red eyes narrowed at all the letters that were dated and addressed to him. Cedric quickly opened one of the older letters his eyes softening at its contents.

‘I finally was able to get the maids to teach me how to make that chamomile tea you like so much. I hope we’ll be able to drink it together someday. When you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

Cedric opened another letter, a dried sprig of baby’s breath falling out of the envelop. His pale fingers picking it up with utmost care. Red eyes scanning over the delicate hand writing.

‘Did you know baby’s breath means everlasting love? Isn’t that neat? I hope that our love is ever lasting as well. I’d like to go on a picnic with you while it’s still spring. If you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

‘Today, I saw a pair of swans in the pond in the garden. Did you know swans stay together for life? I read that in a book in the library. I thought it was pretty neat. Maybe it’s childish of me to think that way, but I hope we’ll be like that. I love you, Cedric.’

Cedric continued to tear apart the letters with fervor. Sweat dripping down his neck as his hands began to shake. All of these letters and he’s never read any of them from her… he always returned them back to her… always ignored her… he was starting to get scared…

‘It’s getting colder up in the tower but the maids took my bed. They said they’re freezing too. Is there anyway I could also have some new blankets. I hope that’s not too much of a bother for you. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

‘I’ve been sleeping in the library over the winter. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your work. I heard there’s a ball upcoming in the neighboring empire. I’ve never been to a ball before. Is there anyway we could go? I’d really like a new dress. The one I had all these years is starting to get a little loose since we’re so scarce on food. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

There was no scarcity in food. Who on earth hadn’t the servants been feeding her? Who took her bed? Her blankets?

Cedric sorted through the letters until the last one stuck out to him.

His pale hand opened the letter, his eyes widening in shock. She had filled out divorce papers… why would she do that?

‘I don’t think you’re ever going to read this until you’ve realized I left. But I want a divorce. I can’t live like this. It’s so cold and miserable here. No one talks to me here. I found out that the only acquaintance I had here, you were paying to talk to me so I wouldn’t bother you… and I was really hurt by that. If I’m really that awful to be with, I’ll go. I just want you to be happy, Cedric. Even if it’s not with me. So good bye, Cedric. If you try to have a conversation with me in a few days I may reconsider but if not, you’ll find this then. I’ll probably be halfway through the forest by then. Good bye, Cedric.’

Cedric began to shake. She had stopped by his office and he had turned her away… he unknowingly sent her away… he sent his loving wife away in the wild… wait.

Didn’t she know the forest was infested with monsters?

“Guards! Hurry. Send a search party to the forest, now!” Cedric threw the letter to the side, screaming on the top of his lungs. His legs running as fast as he could down the steps and through the palace.

The guards rising up in shock before quickly springing into action.

“The duchess has gone missing! She could be in danger!” Cedric shouted, the Duke running to grab his sword and horse. “We have to find her by all means necessary!”

Cedric frowned as he glanced at the dark forest. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. He prayed she was safe. He was so lucky he noticed her absence in just a day…

(Your name) hummed as she walked through the forest without a care in the world. So far, she’s been lucky and she hasn’t ran into a single monster.

She knew there was a possibility she could run into danger but she truly believed the monsters wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t have a weapon on her. Plus, there wasn’t much meat on her bones since she wasn’t being fed at the palace.

“Don’t you know there’s monsters in the woods?” A voice hissed at (your name), causing the girl to glance at a tall man wearing silver armor with an unfamiliar, blue crest on it. The silver helmet completely covering his face.

Well at this point in her journey, she’s going to disregard the stranger danger rule.

“Oh I know. I’m just passing through is all.”

“Either you’re a very brave woman or a very stupid one.” A laugh left her throat as she smiled at the stranger.

“A little of both. I’m just going anywhere to start a new.” The girl smiled at the knight before continuing her way.

“Wait up!” The male trudged after her, standing above her. “You can’t just go walking in the forest by yourself. What if you get kidnapped or killed-“

“Then I get kidnapped or killed.” The knight held in a laugh before offering her an arm.

“I can lead you out of the forest if you’d like. My name is Etrian by the way.”

“That’s a nice name.” (Your name) replied, taking the knights arm. “You can just call me (your first name).”

“Hmm. You have a pretty name.” Etrian smiled at the girl, causing her to furrow her brow.

“It’s a very basic name. It’s not even worth remembering so you can call me anything you’d like.” Etrian tilted his helmet down in worry at her words. Wherever she came from, she more than likely never was treated with kindness.

“I like your name so I’ll call you, (your name).” Etrian replied, causing (your name) to giggle.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed… thank you, Etrian.” Etrian gave (your name)’s hand a comforting squeeze.

“I was on my way to the Lancaster Palace but I think a damsel in distress is much more important at the moment.” Etrian puffed his chest out, causing (your name) to erupt in giggles again.

“Maybe I should call you the brave one then for traveling alone, Etrian.” (Your name) gave Etrian a smile, the male shaking his head in embarrassment.

“It’s a knight’s duty.”

(Your name) laughed some more, allowing Etrian to lead her through the forest. Their playful banter continuing.

Cedric searched the woods with fervor. Easily slaying any monster that crossed paths with them.

“My lord. We found the body of the Northern empire’s diplomat and his party but…”

“But what? Did you find the Duchess?!” Cedric hissed, his red eyes coldly looking at the corpses of the northern empire’s men. But one was missing their armor.

“Where’s his armor?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. It appears a monster may be parading around as a knight.” Cedric sighed before glancing nervously in the forest. He really hoped (your name) didn’t run into that monster…

“Etrian. Do you like being a knight?” (Your name) asked her companion who hummed in response.

“Not really. It’s kind of boring actually.” Etrian responded, his eyes glancing at (your name). “Especially listening to a lord’s orders all the time and standing guard? It sucks.”

(Your name) laughed at his response. “At least you’re honest, Etrian.”

“What about you, (your name)? What were you?”

(Your name) smiled sadly as she glanced at the forest floor, causing Etrian to raise his hands up in alarm.

“Oh I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“I was nothing.” (Your name) replied with a solemn look in her eye. “Have you ever felt like that before? Like nothing? My existence didn’t matter where I came from before and after I ended up here.”

Etrian placed a gentle, leather gloved hand on (your name)’s arm. “No I understand completely.”

“Thanks, Etrian. You’re really nice even though I think you’re really strange.”

“How am I strange?”

“You abandoned the task at hand for me, which is very suspicious. But I appreciate you traveling and talking with me… I can’t remember the last time I actually had a conversation with someone.”

Etrian gave her a nod, trying his best not to have his helmet fall off his head.

“Isn’t that helmet uncomfortable? You could always take it off.” Etrian held up his hands as he began to laugh.

“Maybe once we make it out of the forest.”

“Alright. Keep your secrets then.” (Your name) giggled, Etrian watched her walk a little further a head. A black tentacle creeping out from the helmet before quickly slipping back in.

Cedric continued searching, a smile on his face once he saw a pair of footprints.

“She went this way!” Cedric shouted to his men. The men all nodding their heads before following the tracks. “She can’t be far-“

Cedric’s red eyes widened when he saw a second pair of footprints beside hers. Their tracks barely as visible as hers.

“The monster is with her!” Cedric began to breath heavily, his hands shaking as he held the reigns to his horse tightly. He was going to find her. Cedric just prayed nothing happened to her.

“Etrian. You’re really light on your toes.” (Your name) stated, causing Etrian to laugh. “Do you like sneaking around?”

“It’s just an unconscious habit of mine-“ an arrow whizzed by Etrian’s head, causing a scream to leave (your name)’s throat.

“Jesus-“

“My lady, step away from the monster!” one of the knights from the southern empire shouted, pointing his bow and arrow at Etrian.

“Monster? That’s Etrian-“ (your name) replied, only for more knights to show up.

“One of the knight’s armor was missing at the carriage accident up ahead-“

“I can actually explain that.” Etrian replied as he grasped the helmet of his armor before pulling it off. Revealing a handsome man with long silver hair and blue eyes to all the knights. “It’s me. Duke Graham.”

“Duke Graham?! I can’t believe it’s you!” One of the knights laughed, the others all releasing their breath that they were unconsciously holding. “You were the only one missing from the carriage.”

(Your name)’s eyes widened in horror. While everyone else saw a handsome man, she saw a giant black octopus like creature as the head of the knight. Her body started convulsing in shivers.

“Are you alright, (your name)?” Etrian asked with worry laced in his voice, reaching a hand out to her. The tentacles moving in every which way, causing (your name) to hyperventilate and take a step back in fear.

“(Your name)!” Cedric rushed over to her, quickly separating her from the monstrous Duke. Cedric quickly dismounting his horse to hold (your name). “I’m so sorry. Please don’t run off again.”

(Your name) didn’t return Cedric’s hug, her eyes focused on the black octopus monster that was known as Etrian.

“Let’s head back home, okay? And Duke Graham. You can ride on one of the other horses we have here with one of the knights. My wife will ride with me.” Cedric stated, hoisting (your name) up on his horse.

(Your name) cast one last look at Etrian, the tentacles waving at her which on caused her to tear up even more.

While with the guards, they only saw Etrian give (your name) a warm smile and a wave. Why was she so scared of him? It wasn’t like she was seeing a monster.

“Why did you try to run off into the forest?” Cedric asked (your name) who sat in the sofa in his office with a blanket tightly wrapped around her. “You could’ve died-“

“It would’ve been better than being here.” (Your name) muttered, pulling the soft blanket closer to herself. “Anything is better than here.”

Cedric stood up from his desk, sitting himself beside (your name).

“I’m going to start being a better husband. I moved your room to be next to mine now and you have a bed again. I also am currently working on investigating all of the staff that has mistreated you. They’re going to have their hands cut off for stealing and then exiled-“

“That’s alright. You don’t have to do any of those things.” (Your name) sighed, wrapping the blanket around her even tighter. “I would like to head to my room. I’m quite tired.”

Cedric held a hand out for (your name) to take, which she ignored. The young woman choosing to stand up with her blanket securely wrapped around her.

“Would you like to have dinner together then?”

“No. Just send it to my room please. It’s kind of late for all of those things, don’t you think?” (Your name) asked, avoiding eye contact with Cedric.

“I… I’ll try more. Just please don’t run off like that again.”

(Your name) opened the door to her room before shutting it quickly. The duchess laying down on the bed in defeat. She really was wishing she would’ve left this place.

It was a shame Cedric had no intention of letting her go. Not to mention that Etrian was also staying with them for the time being.

Etrian sat in Cedric’s office sipping some hot tea. Blue eyes meeting red orbs.

“Thanks for keeping my wife safe-“

“Why did she run off?” Etrian hummed, causing Cedric to glare at him.

“It’s none of your concern, Duke Graham.” Cedric hissed, causing Etrian to smile. Cedric narrowed his eyes at the doll like man.

“She’s really pretty.” Etrian smiled at the peeved expression on Cedric’s face.

“What brings you to the Southern Empire?” Cedric gritted his teeth at Etrian who only gave him a hum.

“Mostly for trading business but seeing that my men were mauled to death and looted by your monster infested forest, I’ll have to wait awhile till we can proceed in business. I may have to stay here awhile as well.”

Cedric sighed in defeat. His red eyes narrowing at Etrian. This was probably the most Etrian has spoken to Cedric in their entire life so far… and it irked Cedric.

“Alright. I can let you stay for awhile. Just please don’t cause any trouble for me.”

“I won’t.” Etrian smiled, causing Cedric to place a hand on his temple.

“I’ll have the maids organize a room for you.”

Etrian beamed at Cedric, his blue orbs shining mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see (your name) again.

Etrian wandered the halls, ignoring the excited whispers of the maids when he passed by. The silver haired man had adjusted well to the staff’s ramblings of his appearance.

“Isn’t Duke Graham really handsome?” One of the maids asked another, causing the other maid to nod in agreement.

“Just like a porcelain doll.”

“I heard he’s unmarried.”

Etrian made his way over to the library, his blue eyes widening once he saw (your name) sitting in a chair in the far back corner. Her focus completely on the book in front of her.

“Ah. (Your name).” Etrian smiled at the duchess, who gave him a nervous glance. Her eyes completely avoiding eye contact with him. “May I sit with you?”

“S-sure.” Etrian pulled out the chair beside (your name), the wooden legs squealing across the floor.

“What are you reading?” Etrian asked, causing (your name) to nervously glance up from her book.

“Oh it’s just a fairy tale story…” (your name) shyly replied causing Etrian to furrow his brow.

“I’m quite fond of fairy tales. Which one is it?”

“Beauty and the beast...”

“That’s my favorite one.” Etrian smiled, his tentacles flailing around excitedly, much to (your name)’s fear. “My mother used to read it to me all the time as a child.”

“That’s really nice.” Etrian tentacles suddenly laid flat on the table, one of them laying on (your name)’s shoulder as if to show that he was concerned for her.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t really looked at me since the forest.” (Your name) gulped, her hands trembling when the tentacles began to slowly caress her body.

“I… I’ve just never seen anyone that looks like you is all…” (your name) replied honestly. She wasn’t wrong. She’s never seen someone with a black octopus like head before and she was terrified.

“Oh… is my appearance not to your liking-“

“My lady. The lord is looking for you.” The butler interrupted her and Etrian’s conversation, the young woman quickly rising up to her feet.

“Ah. Sorry, Etrian. I have to get going.”

Etrian clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Could she really see him for what he truly was?

Etrian glanced at the book she was reading in awe. Was their story going to be just like beauty and the beast? Pure ecstasy consuming him.

She had to be just like his dad. His mom always told him his soul mate would be able to see his true form just like dad could see hers.

“(Your name)…” Etrian couldn’t wait to find out.

“You called for me, my lord?” (Your name) bowed her head to Etrian, who frowned at her formality.

“I did call for you, (your name).” Cedric motioned for his butler to go bring some tea for the two of them. “I’d like to have some tea with you-“

“I’m not very fond of tea.” (Your name) wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring the disappointed look on Cedric’s face. “But thank you for the invite.”

“How about a walk in the garden? You love the garden.” Cedric asked, a hopeful tune in his voice. (Your name) frowned. Didn’t he acknowledge that she had sent him divorce papers? Why on earth was he trying to court her now, of all times?

“Alright…” Cedric held out an arm for her, which (your name) hesitantly took. The dark haired Duke leading her down the halls and towards the garden.

A certain silver haired man watching them from the library’s window. His blue eyes studying the discomfort on (your name)’s face.

“You’re not comfortable around that man are you, (your name)?” Etrian softly whispered to himself, his blue eyes memorizing her soft features on her pretty face. “I wonder if I can make you smile again…”

Etrian’s shadow revealed his tentacles flailing about in excitement. The birds that sat near the window quickly flying away in fear of the monster that was in the palace.

It was a stiff silence between Cedric and (your name). The two walking side by side in the garden without muttering a word to each other.

“There’s some swans in the pond, (your name)…” Cedric smiled, softly breaking the silence. His red eyes glancing at her face, his eyes lighting up when he saw her smile at the swan pair.

He had finally found something that seemed to make her smile… Cedric was starting to get really worried about saving their relationship, especially with someone like Etrian in their home. Cedric had to admit that he was jealous of how beautiful Etrian was but he felt that there was something incredibly off about the silver haired male. Even when they were children, he was almost completely emotionless but he wasn’t that way around (your name)… it was very unsettling to Cedric.

“(Your name), do you like Etrian?” (Your name) froze, her eyes wide at Cedric’s question.

“I wouldn’t say like or dislike… I’m…” Afraid. (Your name) thought to herself. I’m afraid of him. “Indifferent towards him. He’s a Duke from the northern empire so I have to be respectful to him is all.”

Cedric hummed, the Duke satisfied with her answer. His wife was a very respectful young lady, he didn’t doubt her answer at all.

(Your name) narrowed her eyes at Cedric. Cedric couldn’t be jealous, could he? It wasn’t his place after years of being together without him ever caring about her personal life or feelings.

“It’s cold. I’m ready to head back inside.” The couple made their way back in, unaware that Etrian had overheard their conversation.

The silver haired man determined to have (your name) change her mind about him.

Etrian had found out many things about (your name) over the last few weeks he’s been staying in the Lancaster’s palace.

(Your name) used to live in a tower here, she didn’t like tea, she liked to write and read, her favorite food was (favorite food), she liked to eat pudding sometimes as well, her favorite color was (favorite color), and she was almost always alone. Just like Etrian usually was.

Etrian was thrilled to be finding out all this information from the maids who were more than thrilled to talk to him. The Duke was especially happy that one of the maids had even slipped up and told him that (your name) was trying to divorce the Duke. It made Etrian’s heart soar at the thought of (your name) being on the market for marriage.

It wasn’t very hard for him to bribe one of the maids into sending that paper work to the emperor either. Which would make his end goal even easier to achieve.

Etrian peaked his head in the library, a smile on his face when he saw (your name) sitting in a chair, sketching some birds that sat in the window. He’d have to add drawing to his mental list of her hobbies.

“Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her shoes when Etrian snuck up behind her. One of his tentacles affectionately caressing her cheeks, something she tried to ignore.

“H-hi, Etrian.” (Your name) responded quietly. Placing her pencil down on the table.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute. I missed seeing you around.” (Your name) tried to hold her tears in when his tentacles slowly began to wrap around her body, caressing her affectionately.

Over the course of Etrian’s stay, she’s noticed that his tentacles tend to tell his emotions. She could tell when he was excited, upset, annoyed, happy, or even sad. And the tentacles were especially fond of her, touching her any chance they got, much to her displeasure.

“I’ve been around. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with my husband is all.” (Your name) tried not to flinch when she saw the tentacles suddenly point at her like swords. It’s seems she upset Etrian by mentioning Cedric. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

The tentacles instantly relaxed, going back to their idle position of affectionately caressing her.

“How about you draw me?” Etrian asked, a soft smile on his lips. He really wanted to know how (your name) saw him.

(Your name) smiled, opening a new page to her sketchbook, her body shaking when Etrian took a seat in front of her. The black tentacles retracting into themselves, as if they too, were folding together like his black gloved hands on the table.

(Your name) shakily got to work. Tears gathering in her eyes as she continued sketching the monster she saw in front of her.

Etrian frowned at her nervous expression. Why was she so nervous? Didn’t she understand that they were soulmates because she could see him?

(Your name) glanced up, her face going pale when she saw two tentacles directly pointed at her eyes. The tentacles opening up to reveal two icy blue eyes staring directly at her.

Etrian smiled brightly. She finally made eye contact with him-

A lord thump was heard, (your name) had fallen out of her chair. Etrian quickly rose up, his hand grasping (your name)’s shoulders, helping her up.

“Are you alright, (your name)?” His eyes widened at the drawing that she had made so far. A dark octopus like head sat on top of his body, a deranged smile crawling on Etrian’s lips. He was so excited. She could see him.

“I-I’m sorry, Etrian. I… I need to go.” (Your name) stuttered out before she grabbed her book. “I’ll see you around!”

Etrian could only watch as she took off, his blue eyes glancing at the pencil she had dropped in excitement.

She could see him… she could see him. The real him. The monstrous curse his mother and him both had.

Etrian picked up the discarded pencil, blue eyes glancing around the library, making sure no one was watching him.

Etrian then placed the pencil in his mouth, suckling on the wooden utensil as his eyes rolled back in his head. Etrian wondered how her fingers would taste in his mouth when he-

Oh he was getting a little too far ahead of himself. He needed to calm down a bit before revealing his insatiable lust for her.

A very disturbed Cedric stood outside of the library. Why in the world was Etrian eating a pencil?

The dark haired Duke now more determined than ever to keep Etrian away from his wife. By all means necessary.

(Your name) laid in her bed. Her form covered in a lightweight, white gown. It was a little chilly at night, but nothing she couldn’t manage. It was the feeling of eyes on her that she couldn’t shake off.

(Your name) slowly rose from the bed, shutting the curtain to her balcony. The feeling still not leaving her. Perhaps she was being paranoid after the library incident.

(Your name) made her way back to bed, the duchess pulling as many blankets as she could on top of herself. Maybe if she went to sleep, she’d be able to relax?

As (your name) drifted off, she failed to notice a body laying under her bed. A certain silver haired man crawled out from underneath her bed before he stood over her, blue eyes greedily taking in the sight before him.

Tentacles gently began to caress her body, a soft groan leaving her throat before she unconsciously cuddled into the warm appendages, causing a smile to crawl on Etrian’s face.

He knew she would grow used to him. Maybe if he started visiting her every night, she’d stop fearing him as much. Etrian reached a hand out to brush some of her hair out of her face.

His soulmate was so pretty and cute… he couldn’t wait to steal her away from here…

Etrian hummed before walking over to her little desk in the corner. The male setting down a small (favorite flavor) pudding on her desk.

Hopefully she’d like his little surprise for her.

(Your name) had terrible nightmares last night about a certain tentacle man. Her body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“My lady, your husband would like to have breakfast with you.” One of the maids said at the door, the maid’s eyes widening at the helping of pudding on (your name)’s desk. “Did you order pudding last night?”

“Pudding?” (Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion before her eyes widened in shock at the (favorite flavor) pudding that sat on her desk. “I didn’t ask for pudding…”

(Your name) smiled softly. Maybe Cedric had gotten her some. He has been a lot more attentive lately.

“Tell him I’ll be there. I just have to clean up a bit.”

The maid nodded before heading off, leaving (your name) to wonder who left her the mystery pudding.

“Thank you for the pudding, Cedric.” Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion at (your name)’s statement. “It was a nice sweet treat to have after a nightmare last night.”

“Pudding? I never sent you pudding.” (Your name)’s face turned pale at Cedric’s words, a concerned look now on Cedric’s face as well.

“Then who knew I liked pudding and even my favorite flavor?” (Your name) nervously glanced over to the side. A certain man with a black octopus head, began to flail around excitedly before holding its tentacles like a shy school girl. And why were they slightly wet this time?

Cedric followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing at the stoic Duke. There was no way Etrian was holding a torch for his wife right? Etrian wouldn’t sneak into her room to drop off pudding… no. Etrian was eating a pencil the other day. There was a chance Etrian was weird enough to break into a lady’s room.

“Good morning, Duke and Duchess Lancaster.” Etrian bowed to the other dukes, his blue eyes studying Cedric face while his tentacles excitedly rubbed (your name) face. “I will be heading back to my empire in a week. I had a lovely stay here.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Duke Graham.” Cedric gave Etrian a tight lipped smile, red eyes focused on the uncomfortable expression on (your name)’s face.

“I also heard a fun little rumor during my stay here.” Etrian placed a hand over his chin, an amused expression on his face. “I heard you two are getting a divorce.”

“That isn’t going to happen now-“

“Well you should’ve told that one little maid. Seems she sent the paperwork over to the emperor-“ Cedric quickly rose to his feet, his loud voice booming at the staff to quickly intercept the letter to the emperor.

Etrian and (your name) now the only two left in the dining room. Etrian turned his head towards (your name), causing her to gulp in fear.

“You’ll be single by the end of this week and I’ll be leaving home. When the emperor gets that letter, you’ll be demoted to a commoner.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles tightly wrapping around (your name), Etrian pulling her hand up to his face. Her body flinching when she felt his soft lips press against her hand. “So why don’t you become my wife? You won’t have to live as a commoner then and I’ll treat you well. Plus you can see what no one else can…”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You can see me. The real me. And I can show you pleasure you’ve never felt before. Just think about it. I have 8 extra appendages compared to the average man.” Etrian whispered in her ear. “I’m also one of the richest men in the four empires. You’ll never have to struggle or starve again.”

“Why me?” (Your name) whimpered, the tentacles slowly moving lower on her body, a few teasingly squeezing her legs and hips.

“Because you can see me just like my dad can see my mom. Don’t you get it? We’re soulmates, baby.”

(Your name) nearly cried when he pulled away. The tentacles smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Just think about it, okay?” Etrian smiled, the tentacles flailing around excitedly. “I promise you’ll be very happy.”

“You bastard!” An angry Cedric hissed, a fist colliding into Etrian’s face, the silver haired man barely moving. The tentacles now pointing at Cedric like swords, causing (your name) to freeze in terror. “Why would you do that?! You sent that letter a week ago-“

“You don’t appreciate your wife. I found all those letters, Cedric.” A taunting chuckle escaped Etrian’s throat, the tentacles sharpening as they prepared to strike Cedric at any moment. “You’ve probably never even touched her-“

“Please stop!” (Your name) stood in between the two, tears cascading down her face. Cedric’s heart clenching at her terrified expression. It was just an argument, why was she so scared? “I’ll go with you. Just please don’t hurt Cedric. Please…”

Cedric froze when he saw the thrilled smile on Etrian’s face. Leather gloves hands held (your name) face with such tenderness, it made Cedric sick to his stomach.

“I’ll make you so happy. You’ll never be sad again.” Etrian cooed, his blue eyes gleaming at Cedric. “You can stay in my room for the time being seeing to it that you’re now a single woman. I’ll get you a nice pretty ring when we reach my empire.”

“What does he mean (your name)? You’re not going to marry him are you?” Cedric froze at the defeated look on (your name)’s face. Her (eye color) orbs tiredly glancing at Cedric.

“I’m sorry, Cedric.” Cedric could only hug himself as he watched his wife be dragged away by Etrian. The silver haired Duke excitedly droning on and on about how much she was going to love their new life together.

Cedric peaked through the doorway of (your name) and Etrian’s room. His heart clenching when he saw how he tenderly held her in his arms.

It wasn’t fair… if Cedric never messed up, she would’ve never met Etrian… she would’ve never divorced him… they’d still be happy…

But were they ever happy? No… Cedric couldn’t remember the last time they shared a smile together or even a dance. Cedric never really deserved her… but he didn’t think Etrian did either.

Cedric could only watch as (your name) and Etrian headed off to the northern empire in a carriage together. The silver haired man fretting over her every need while Cedric could only watch from his study’s window in utter distaste and envy.

“My lord, she left you a sketchbook.” Cedric glanced at the book, tears gather in his eyes as he looked at all the intricate drawings of birds. The swans being his favorite.

The last drawing was what made Cedric’s blood run cold. A terrifying eldritch monster with a black octopus head over Etrian’s body stared back at him, a small note in the bottom of making a shiver run down Cedric’s spine.

‘I can see him, Cedric. He likes that I can see him. Help me.’

Now Cedric knew why she was so terrified of Etrian… it was because he was a monster.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my mother.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles excitedly flailing around the carriage. One grasping (your name)’s chin. “You’ll like her.”

“(Your name)… are you sad?” Etrian asked, the male grasping her hands in his gloved ones. “You won’t ever feel like nothing here. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

(Your name) could only fully glance out the window. Her heart aching as she began to miss Cedric. She hoped he would at least be happy…

A tentacle suddenly gave her a tight squeeze while another forced her head to look at Etrian. Smooth lips pressing against her own, her body shaking in fear as the tentacles began to grope her body.

Etrian pulled away, her eyes widening when she finally got to see some semblance of a face on the man. A smile crawling on Etrian’s face.

“There. Don’t think of other men around me. I don’t like it.”

(Your name) could only silently cry as Etrian continued to press kisses on her face. His lips burning her with the passion he held for her.

“We’re going to have our wedding in a few days time once we arrive. Is there somewhere you’d like to go? Or something you’d like to do when we get there?”

“I’m alright for now. Thank you, Etrian.” (Your name) politer responded, folding her hands in her lap nervously.

Etrian smiled before continued to excitedly chatter on about the wedding. His tentacles dancing around excitedly.

A regal woman with long silver hair and bright blue eyes stood outside of the Graham palace. Her cold gaze focusing on the carriage that had arrived.

Former Duchess Guinevere had gotten the news that her son had found a bride while he was in the southern empire. She just didn’t think her son would latch onto the other duke’s former wife so quickly.

Her eyes glared at the pretty young woman who exited the carriage, her eyes widening when she saw her son’s tentacles all over the girl. The girl subtly trying to push them off. Her son had found his soulmate… Etrian had found his soulmate!

A bright smile was on the former duchess’s lips, the servants immediately blushing and whispering to each other. Guinevere never smiled and here she was smiling at the fiancée her son had brought.

“Welcome home, son. I see you brought me home a daughter as well.” Guinevere smiled, her blue eyes gazing intensely at the trembling woman who wouldn’t look her in the eye. Was it a possibility she could see Guinevere’s true form as well? How interesting…

(Your name) tried her best not to cry at how much larger the octopus like creature that Etrian called his mother was. She was terrified at how the other woman’s tentacles were poking her face as well.

“It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, duchess.”

A hearty laugh let the woman’s throat, the regal woman gesturing for her servants to make her new family member feel welcome.

“Please. Call me mother.”

(Your name) tried her best not to cry at the feast Etrian’s family held for them. Etrian’s mother’s tentacles were all over the former Duke. Who didn’t seem to mind as much as (your name) did.

“Welcome, my dear. I see you’re still getting used to Etrian’s… quirks.” The former Duke, Rolfe, smiled at the young couple. His eyes narrowing at his son intensely staring at (your name). “Etrian, I’d like for you to start a toast for your lovely fiancée here.”

Etrian quickly sprang to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding (your name)’s. While to other held up a glass of Chardonnay.

“I’d like to raise a toast to my lovely fiancée, (your name). I cannot wait to be wed to such a lovely girl who can stand to be around the real me.” No she could not. (Your name) was doing her best not to pass out at the table right then and there at all the eyes (and tentacles) that were on her.

“(Your name), my dear. I’m so happy my son seems so fond of you. He was such a lonely boy growing up…” Guinevere sighed, her tentacles cradling her body as she continued to talk about Etrian. “He loves reading all the time. I swear he loved books more than his own mother-“

“Mother. Please. You’re embarrassing me.” (Your name) could only smile politely as Etrian’s tentacles pulled her closer to him. The male pressing a kiss to her head.

Guinevere only smiled all knowingly at her son and husband. Rolfe sighing before gazing at the young couple. “You both have our blessing. We can have the wedding as soon as you’d like-“

“Tomorrow.” Etrian stated boldly, causing his father to laugh.

“Impatient just like your mother was.” (Your name) could only watch as Rolfe tenderly caressed his wife’s affectionate tentacles. “I’ll send some dress makers down to your room tonight then.”

“Dear, remember when we were young?” The older couple soon got into a private and affectionate banter. The two giggling and whispering to each other like a young couple in love.

“See? You’ll be happy here.” Etrian stated, the young Duke pulling out (your name)’s chair. “How about we go on a walk while those two continue to flirt?”

(Your name) nodded, hesitantly taking Etrian’s hand as the much taller male lead her out of the dining room.

Her octopus fiancé motioning to the portraits on the wall of the most beautiful family she’s ever seen. Rolfe being the only one she recognized in the portraits.

“Who are they?”

“You don’t recognize your own fiancé?” Etrian chuckled as he pointed to the tall handsome man with long silver hair in the portrait. “I’m right there or can you only see these?”

(Your name) tried not to squeal when the tentacles starting tickling her, trying her best not to smile at how playful Etrian was being.

“I… I can only see those.”

Etrian suddenly pulled her to himself, pressing a long kiss to her left collarbone.

“My mother said my father finally saw what she truly looked like on their wedding night. So maybe you’ll just have to wait till then to see me.”

(Your name) smiled, casting one last look at the handsome man in the portrait. There was no way that person and this tentacle abomination were the same person.

But then again, Rolfe seemed super into Guinevere with or without her tentacles…

(Your name) stood at the alter across from a more than eager Etrian. The tentacles on his head flailing around excitedly while also trying not to touch her until after the ceremony was over.

“You may kiss the bride-“ the marriage officiant didn’t even get to finish his words before Etrian pulled (your name into a passionate kiss, (your name) shutting her eyes so she didn’t have to see how the tentacles were running themselves down every inch of her body.

The crowd going wild at how happy Etrian seemed, much to the dismay of Duke Lancaster who sat the farthest away from the ceremony. The Duke fiddling with a dried sprig of baby’s breath. He was here for closure but he didn’t want to accept the fact that his wife had practically been forced to marry some sort of tentacle monster.

Etrian pulled away before scooping (your name) up in his arms as the crowd cheered for their union. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a victorious smirk.

Etrian had won. (Your name) was his wife now. He even had something planned for Cedric as well. Something that would make sure that Duke get over (your name) for good.

Cedric groaned, red eyes widening as he realized he was bound and gagged in a chair. The Duke of Lancaster nervously glancing around until he saw Etrian standing in front of him. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a smirk.

“I’m going to let you watch our wedding night.” Etrian smirked, causing Cedric to scream at him through the gag, only for no sound to come out. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll even let you in. I feel kind of bad for stealing your wife but I’m not opposed to sharing her.”

Cedric’s red eyes widened when Etrian pulled out a syringe. The dark haired Duke thrashing in his restraints, causing Etrian to shush him.

“It’s just a very strong aphrodisiac. I want you to feel everything and I also gave some to (your name) as well. I want both of you to be as aroused as possible. Plus you’ll be able to see what she can see while you’re on these drugs.”

No… he didn’t mean. Cedric gasped when Etrian stabbed the needle into his bare leg, pupils going wide at the true form of Etrian being revealed to him.

“God. I’m going to love this.”

Cedric could only slightly struggle, the friction from the rope turning him on. The male watching helplessly as (your name) stumbled into the room. The poor girl a panting mess as Etrian slowly began to toy with the lacy white undergarment that hid her body from Cedric’s eyes.

“Look, (your name). I brought your ex-husband here to watch as I defile you.” A sharp gasp left (your name)’s throat when two of Etrian’s tentacles squeezes her chest, the poor girl panting as Etrian ran his hands down her hips and dipped by her privates. “We’re gonna give him a show, okay? And if you’re both good, I’ll let him fuck you too.”

Cedric gasped when the tentacles suddenly ripped apart the lingerie on (your name)’s body his greedy eyes taking in the soft curves of her bare body. His head spinning with lust at the thought of being able to touch his wife.

Etrian suddenly wrapped two tentacles around her wrists, holding them in place as he positioned himself behind her. (Your name) moaning loudly at how rough Etrian was being.

“What do you say, (your name)?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please… take me, Etrian.” Etrian’s pink tongue darted out to lick her tears away, causing (your name) to blush. Right now she was able to see Etrian’s human face while under the influence of the aphrodisiac, much to Etrian’s joy.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, (your name).” Etrian sheathed himself in one thrust in (your name) a strangled cry escaping her throat as he started to pound into her like a madman. “Shit. Look at how well you take it.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” (Your name) began to cry as she felt her body being pounded into and Cedric’s eyes on her. “It feels so good!”

“Does it? How about this?” (Your name) began to cry as she felt Etrian’s tentacles rub against her clit, practically seeing stars at the intensity they were going.

“Etrian! I’m going to-“ Etrian tightly grasped (your name) body. The white haired man releasing deep inside of her as (your name) rode out her orgasm. The Duke kissing her face as he turned to look at Cedric who had a mess between his legs as well.

“You’re a sick freak, Cedric. Getting off watching another man fuck your wife.”

Etrian cut Cedric’s binds with one of his tentacles before motioning over to the moaning mess that was (your name). “Have at it.”

Cedric slowly rose up before greedily pressing kisses onto (your name)’s bare skin. The dark haired Duke slipping himself into her with ease. His pale hand grasping her hips tightly as he drilled into her doggy style.

“Fuck. I love you, (your name).” Cedric cried as he started to go into a brutal pace. “We could make this work right? A throuple?”

(Your name) cried and moaned as Cedric continued to pound into her poor abused body. Etrian placing his thumb in her mouth as he stroked his cock in another hand.

“Shhh. How about you put me in your mouth while he has his fun. It’ll be nice to have something in your pretty mouth.”

(Your name) could only nod her head as Cedric continued to pound into her. His balls slapping roughly into her ass as she started choking on Etrian’s cock.

“Look at that. Such a good girl taking two cocks. You’re gonna be both of our wife. It’ll be fun won’t it?” Etrian cooed as Cedric started to cry.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna get you pregnant, (your name).” Cedric threw back his head as he came deep inside (your name) the other Duke panting as he collapsed beside (your name), who continued to suck off Etrian.

“Look at us, (your name). All three of us are practically insatiable.” Etrian cooed as he watched Cedric start eating (your name) out.

“I told you I’d make you happy here.” Etrian cooed, (your name) pulling herself away from his cock to whisper.

“Yes I love it here, Etrian. I love you and Cedric so much. Ah!”

“Such a good girl.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles wrapping around (your name) as he continued to play with her body. “You’re gonna be pregnant with twins by the time we’re finished with you.”

“Thank you… thank you…” (your name) cried as she felt her body be flipped over by Cedric who decided he was going to go for another round.

“Isn’t she such a good girl, Cedric.” Cedric nodded his head as he started pressing hot kisses on (your name)’s body.

“You should be happy to know that you two never actually divorced and now the both of us are married to her. My empire just allows polyamory so it’s easier for us to have fun here.”

“Isn’t that fun, Cedric? We’ll all be one big happy family.” Etrian soon pushed (your name) onto Cedric’s lap, who was still pounding into her like a madman.

Etrian positioned himself behind (your name), a wicked smile on his beautiful face.

“Now let’s see how well you can handle two cocks in one hole.”

4K notes · View notes

macfrog · 8 days

Text

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel miller #tw pregnancy

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our-aroace-experience · 3 months

Note

My mom is approaching 70 and is in what I can only describe as a Queer Platonic Relationship. My whole life my mom has been ambivalent about romance, and I suspect that if she were young today she’d describe herself as aro. She and my dad were happily married before he passed away, but even so, I don’t really have memories of them being over romantic. Their friends and and family didn’t believe them at first when they announced their marriage (when she was 36!) bc they “didn’t act like a couple”. They worked well as partners and both wanted kids, but there was always something different about their relationship compared to the relationships of my friends’ parents. Since my dad’s death she has shown zero interest in getting remarried and has been happily single for more than a decade.

My mom has an incredibly full life. She’s got lots of friends of all ages, fulfilling hobbies, and a shitty little dog that she loves to pieces. I never worry about her being bored and lonely.

She has this neighbor in her apartment building. They help each other out the way couples do with tasks like grocery shopping, attending family events together, and they co parent the shitty little dog, but she swears up and down that there’s nothing romantic between them. They help each other with medication, hospital visits, and navigating the scary changes of getting old together. She and my grandpa used to argue about her getting remarried to this neighbor bc he didn’t want her to be “lonely”. My mom insisted that she’s not lonely and the relationship was not romantic. There’s love and companionship, but it’s “not like that”.

Back when I started to show interest in dating as a teen my mom was so confused. “You actually want to go on dates? My mom used to force me to date and I hated it.” When I came out as gay as an adult she was like “That’s cool. I still don’t get why you wanna date people.”

My dad once told me a story about how early in their marriage, my mom once accidentally “dated” a different man without realizing that he was taking her out on dates. From her perspective she just was having fun outings with a friend. When the guy “came clean” and told my dad “I’m dating your wife” he just laughed because my mom had been excitedly telling him all about their “dates”. She missed every single clue that this guy had been laying down for her that he was interested. “He invited me to have breakfast on his boat! I’m so excited for the birdwatching that time of day!” (My mom also might be a little autistic but that’s neither here nor there). She just is not a romantically inclined thinker.

I love my mom very much and I’m so lucky to have her as a role model. She’s taught me that happiness is extremely versatile. You don’t have to follow a traditional set route for a complete life with meaningful relationships. Romance is a social construct as much as anything, and you are free to engage with it on your own terms. Don’t be afraid to live and love the way you want to. Your life will be fuller and happier for it.

I’m so happy you’ve had a positive experience, and your mum sounds lovely!

#our aroace experience #aroace asks #aromantic #asexual #aro #ace #aroace #aro pride #ace pride #aroace joy!

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

deputy's daughter

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, caught

“rafe!” you hiss as he makes his way into your room through his preferred method of the window. “my dad is going to kill you!”

“is he home?” he questions. he didn't see the cop car sitting in your driveway, which is why he scaled the lattice to sneak inside.

“no, but he's gonna be home any minute now!” you keep your voice quiet despite the rest of the house being empty.

“let me kiss you until he gets home then.” rafe says, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss. you know it's never just a kiss with him, but you can't help but open your lips for his adventurous tongue, gripping his shirt to pull him in closer.

rafe smirks against your mouth. he could have texted you asking you to let him, but that would have taken all the fun out of it.

“you have to leave as soon as my dad gets home.” you scold him as rafe lays you back on your bed.

“i know you can’t keep quiet.” rafe chuckles, hand groping at your tits through your thin pajama shirt. thankfully the flood lights above the garage are motion sensored, and with your open window they'll alert you when your dad gets home.

“if only deputy shoupe knew what i was doing to his little angel of a daughter.” rafe chuckles as you send him a glare, tugging at his shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

“shut up, cameron. he likes you anyways.” you roll your eyes. now if it was a pogue in your bed, that would be a whole different story.

“mhm.” rafe nods, tugging your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. “im just so charming. all the parents love me.”

“all?” you raise your eyebrows, taking your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room. “you mean you do this with other girls.”

“not anymore.” rafe shakes his head, mouth dropping to your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. “you know they don't compare to that delicious pussy, baby.”

you tsk. “it's a shame you don't have time to eat it then.”

rafe sighs dramatically, like it physically hurts him to not be able to give you head, to let his tongue drag through your folds and slurp up your juices.

“just a quick taste then ill fuck you, promise.” rafe tugs your pajama shorts down, knowing you never wear underwear just for him as he buries his face between your legs, forcing your thighs apart as his greedy mouth explores your pussy.

“delicious, baby.” rafe groans, voice vibrating against your skin. “my favorite meal.” he continues for only a moment longer, flicking his tongue against your entrance before moving up to press a wet kiss to your clit, making you moan out, eyes flickering to your window, making sure you somehow didn't miss the floodlights turning on.

rafe stands up with a lick of his lips, quickly undressing himself until he's just as bare as you are.

“condom?” he asks, forgetting to put one in his pocket, so caught up with getting over to your house on time, even running from his car to your yard, always parking a block away to not cause suspicion.

“fuck, you didn't bring one?” you groan, turning towards your bedside table. you squint in the low light as you scrounge through the drawer, but you know that you used the last one with rafe a week ago.

“just…” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the bed. “just pull out, okay?”

“promise.” rafe nods, eyes on your ass like they have been since you first turned onto your stomach, only half listening to what you're saying, but glad that you're still letting him fuck you.

rafe kneels over your legs before you can move back to your front or rise to your hands and knees. “stay like that.” he hums, gripping his cock and pushing it between your thighs, rubbing the head through your slick.

“fuck, you're so hot.” rafe groans as you reach behind your back, pulling your ass apart to show off both of your holes. “gonna let me play with this one one day?” rafe hums, his tip sliding past your entrance to your other hole, tapping against it.

“maybe.” you smirk. but certainly not today, not when you're already playing on limited time.

rafe slides back down to your cunt, pushing in as he leans forward, covering your body with his own. one hand keeps him held up, stopping from putting his complete weight on you, while the other grips your ass.

“fuck.” rafe groans out, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual. “you feel so good with nothing in between us.”

you moan as well as rafe bottoms out, pushing as far in as your pussy allows. he sits still, allowing you to adjust, to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. he goes from giving you nothing to pounding into you in an instant, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room.

rafe gives a glance at the window. lights still off. he smirks down at you, your hands now gripping into the bedsheets as he plows into you from behind, using the full force of his hips with every thrust.

“m-more.” you mewl out, body shuddering as rafe manages to go deeper with a tilt of his hips, along with you arching your back and bringing your ass up further into the air.

you let out loud groans with every thrust that's now hitting your sweet spot, pushing your orgasm quickly to the surface.

“fuck baby, you're so tight.” rafe grunts out. “don't know how much longer i can last.”

“re-remember to pull out.” you manage to hum out, even though you wish you could feel him fill you up, you're not on birth control and are already taking a risk with having sex at all.

“ass or tits?” rafe questions.

“ass.” you shake your hips from side to side, making rafe let out a loud curse, pulling out sooner than he'd like to to jack himself off, spilling almost instantly over your ass and back, spreading long ropes of cum along your skin.

rafe is quick to grab a tissue and clean you off, as much as he likes seeing you covered in his cum, he's got other things to focus on.

just as he's about to flip you over to eat you out, the lights outside turn on.

“fuck!” you curse, knowing you have seconds before your dad enters the house. you turn over to look at rafe. you gotta get out.”

“you didn't cum yet.” rafe shakes his head, body covering you again, pressing you back down into the plush mattress. “im not leaving without giving you at least one orgasm.”

“you're gonna be leaving with a bullet in your chest if my dad catches you!” you hiss out.

“itll be worth it.” rafe manages to force his hand underneath you, finding your clit with ease as he rubs his fingers between your folds.

“y/n!” your dads voice calls out. you usually greet him downstairs, staying locked in your room is bound to cause suspicion.

“rafe.” you moan out quietly. “please, stop.” you can barely keep yourself from screaming out as his fingers just move faster, his weight pressing down on you too much to move.

“babygirl?” shoupe calls out, his loud footsteps marching up the stairs.

“i-in my room!” you call out.

“you okay?” he asks, now right outside your door. you have to cover your mouth as rafe flicks your clit. you take a deep breath before answering.

“yeah, fine!” your voice wobbles a little, something you know your dad notices. “just period cramps!”

“can i get you some midol?” he questions, and you know his ear is pressed to the door, listening for any signs that something is amiss as rafe rubs you quicker, refusing to slow down, needing to get an orgasm out of you.

“already took some!” you call out, having to press your face into your mattress as you cum, body shaking as rafe smirks above you, hearing your muffled noises. “i think im just gonna go to bed early.” you say as soon as you recover.

“alright, goodnight sweetheart.”

rafe finally allows you to flip over, lifting himself to lay on his side next to you. you raise your eyebrows and hold your finger to your lips, signaling rafe to be quiet until you hear your father's footsteps move down the hallway.

“rafe, you almost got us caught!” you whisper, giving him a shove on the shoulder, only to be met by a proud smile on his face.

“had to get you off, princess, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.” rafe leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips, feeling the way you melt against him.

“am i forgiven?” he questions.

“yeah, just get out.” you giggle quietly. you think your dad bought your explanation, but you can never be too sure.

rafe dresses quickly, throwing your pajamas onto the bed so you can also get decent.

“gotta give you one more kiss.” he leans over your bed to give you a sweet kiss, lips moving gently against each others.

“okay, now go.” you shoo rafe out, heading to the window now that your legs feel a bit more stable, watching him climb down the lattice. he gives you a wave once his feet hit the concrete, only for his entire body to freeze when the side door opens up, your dad stepping out into the light.

“rafe cameron, im going to kill you!”

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