#gina x light

[maddsmallow]

just gina and my baby boi light bein cute uwu my thought was, what would light wear after becoming human again? so, i gave him something a lil more realistic i think.

the thing i love the most about digital art is that i can move stuff around easily to make things look right way easier than i can irl, and i love seeing the characters i draw come to life when i add the color!! but then i get so impatient with the shading the the fabric details like on this one and i just have to stop and move on :’)) but im still happy with this haha. very well may come back to it later to finish the shading. whomst knows. thanks for the any love that’s been shown to my art thus far! 💖

edit: oh shit i almost forgot to add this, my first attempt at like a pre-lamp light. which i absolutely used as a base for the pic above bc Laziness :^) i dont remember why i never finished/posted this one. i think i was unhappy with his jacket but wasn’t feeling up to figuring out what else i wanted to do with it. idk i forget

#dress up time princess #dutp #dutp magic lamp #dutp light #dutp gina #dress up! time princess #time princess #gina x light #mc x light #my art #the blogger says words #dutp fanart

[lenacosse]

In a world of boys, he’s a gentle man

pairings: Jake Peralta x female reader

warnings: Men being men. Angst with happy ending.

word count: 2.6k

summary: You’re having a hard time at work, things are stressing you out and you’re at a crossroad in your relationship with Jake but he’ll always fix his mistakes.

———————————————————————

The blaring of your obnoxious alarm fills your ears. Ripping you from your sleep for another day of work, another day of men undermining you, another day of unsolved crimes.

You reluctantly drag yourself out of your bed and get ready. To make matters worse you and your boyfriend Jake were fighting- you wanted him to move in but his fear of commitment made him laugh the topic off and diminish your feelings. You understood his issues, but it wasn’t fair. So you told him you needed space, and surprisingly he hasn’t contacted you yet. Not that you’re necessarily upset about that, you had mixed feelings.

You arrive to work at 9:12am. And there stands holt an eyebrow raised at you. You sigh and begin.

“I’m sorry sir. I got stuck in traffic.”

“So you’re the only one of my detectives late because of traffic, even though you live closest to the precinct.” Holt gives you a stern look and you just nod and walk into his office. He follows you in and shuts the door, you take a seat.

“I’m sorry captain. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I appreciate the apology. But I’m worried about you (Y/L/N), you’re one of the finest detectives in the precinct yet you cannot unsolve simplest of cases?”

“I know. I just have a lot going on right now.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take your cases and put you onto paperwork tasks. I understand it won’t help but it’s protocol.”

You just nod and exit his room, not looking where you’re going you walk right into Hitchcock who spills his coffee all over you. You take a long breath and look right at him. Violent outbursts weren’t your thing, but the stupidity of the situation is making it hard not to punch him in the face.

“Would you watch where you’re going!” You storm off into the women’s bathroom to dry your shirt off. A worried Amy follows you in.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Amy asks, slowly moving towards you where you stand drying your coffee stained blouse.

You look at Amy and can’t help the tears that are filling your eyes. “I’m sorry i’m fine. It’s not big deal.”

Amy puts a hand on your arm, giving you a reassuring smile. “I know you’ve been stressed recently, and I’m sorry that your cases have been reassigned. But think of it as a break. Now you can have time to think.”

You nod and offer her a smile. Amy was undoubtedly your best friend, she had a way of understanding your feelings and you appreciated that more than you could explain.

“Thank you Ames. you’re amazing.” You and Amy share a hug before she leaves the bathroom. You dry your shirt by which time you’ve collected your thoughts. Allowing you to go back out there with a clear head and better intentions.

Walking back to your desk you get a few reluctant glances, you know it’s bad when people look at your like you’re Rosa. Half way through your first paper work task you get a short tap on your shoulder, you turn around to see Jake. He looks worn down, not as enthusiastic as usual. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit bad, your aim was not to upset Jake when you said you wanted space, but to give yourself time to think. Which you haven’t even had a chance to do yet.

“I brought you a coffee.” Jake says, it was strange to see him so… calm? The main reason you agreed to go out with Jake was because he made you laugh. Because being with him was easy, you didn’t have to change yourself to be with him and that was all anyone could ask for. But the last few days he has been indifferent, you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

“Thank you.” You smile and take the coffee from his hands. Jake nods and starts to walk away, he glances back at you. Continues to walk, glances back again then walks back to you.

“Can.. we talk later? I know you want space but I hate this. I feel bad and it’s just..”

You cut him off with a sympathetic look. “Jake..” you begin, your tone flat.

“Yeah. sorry.” He walks away, this time not looking back.

You sigh and look to your left where Charles is sitting shaking his head and wiping his eyes. You furrow your brows at him and he takes that as an invite over. He walks over to your desk, his shoulders slumped.

“Can I help you Charles?”

“God. I’m so worried about you and jake. These last few days have been utter hell. I haven’t felt this helpless since Elenor and I divorced. I’m so upset I can’t even eat my stake tartare.”

“Maybe that’s for the best Charles, sounds absolutely disgusting.” You shake your head in disgust, “as for me and Jake we are grown adults and can sort it ourselves. Don’t stress.”

“That’s impossible! I’ll talk to Jake. I know how to solve the issue, a nurturing shower where he tenderly washes your hair with lavender shampoo.”

“Seriously?! Go back to your desk.” You shoo him away with your hand. Accepting defeat, sometimes you feel bad for dismissing Charles, but not today.

By lunch time you made a reasonable dent in your paperwork. You glance over to Jake, he’s doing paperwork too. But nothing is distracting him, not even the fact that captain Holt cracked a smile, at least someone’s in a good mood.

“Come on get your stuff we’re going to get lunch.” Rosa says standing in front of your desk with her arms crossed. Behind her is Gina.

“This doesn’t mean I care about you by the way girl. I need a break from my endless paperwork.”

You look over to Gina’s desk and roll your eyes, she had two files sitting there. “Wow I couldn’t imagine it. Is Amy coming?”

“It was her idea to bring you to lunch, then she got out her colour coordinated file of conflict resolution to help you lighten up. So I told her the wrong place, being around nerds is not what I need right now. Poor Amy sitting alone with nothing but her folder.” Gina shrugs.

You grab your jacket and go out with Gina and Rosa. You go to a cafe near the precinct, the cafe echoed with small talk and coffee pots brewing. It was peaceful compared to the loud precinct, the constant keyboard clicks and nonsense talk could of easily driven you mad.

“Damn I think you ruined Jake’s life, he’s a serious depresso these days.” Gina starts.

“I did not ruin his life. I needed space.”

“Why? Did his immaturity get the better of you?” Rosa questioned, you were slightly surprised at her input. Usually an outing with Rosa entails complete silence.

You sigh taking a sip of your drink. “I wanted us to move in together. He brushed it off saying there’s no need. So I told him I needed space from him and time to think, I feel bad sure but I don’t know what to do. It feels like he doesn’t love me enough to work through these issues.” You swallow back the lump in your throat.

“Mmkay well not to give you a compliment but Jake does love you.” Gina retorts. Rosa nods in agreement.

“You always try to get me to talk about my feelings, so take your own advice and go talk to him.” Rosa added.

“I don’t know what to say, we’ve been together for almost two years and it feels like we’re capped at the newly established relationship part.”

“I think that’s enough relationship talk. Who do you think we are, Amy Santiago? No.” Gina scoffed, as she did the food arrived. You sit with your friends eating lunch and listening to Gina talk about her upcoming dance competition and her love for Beyoncé.

———————————————————————

“Thanks for lunch.” You smile at Gina and Rosa as you sit back at your desk.

“Yeah whatever you’re welcome.” Rosa shrugs. You continue with your work, peacefully getting through your tasks with your mood peaking by the minute.

“(Y/N) can you give these files down to officer Smith?” Your sarge Terry asks, you get the files off his desk and get into the elevator to go downstairs.

It was no secret that the officers downstairs were dicks. They didn’t like you, especially officer Smith as you rejected him years ago. Ever since then he’s been making remarks about you attempting to piss you off, this has been applied to Jake as well because he is your boyfriend. Right after stepping out of the elevator you hear a wolf whistle coming from officer Smith. you roll your eyes and walk to his desk handing him the files.

“A present for me? You shouldn’t have.”

You ignore his words and explain the contents of the files, he doesn’t seem to be even paying attention but you didn’t care. That was until he piped up.

“How come you’re giving me files and not Gina?” You go to speak and he puts his finger to his mouth silencing you. “Don’t tell me the nine nine’s lousiest detective has been placed on desk duty.”

“It’s absolutely none of your business. But even so desk duty is much better than being stuck as a first rate officer for eight wasteful years.”

“Ah typical (Y/L/N) being a bitch when she gets her feelings hurt.”

“You’re pathetic. Don’t you get bored of being a dick?”

“You’re Goddamn insufferable. Just shut the fuck up and clear off.”

“Gladly. When you get off your ass for the first time today make sure to leave these files back.”

With that you walk away, but the cruel words that he shouted after had you clenching your fists and unwillingly crying in the elevator. That man knew how to get under your skin and you hated him with a burning passion. As you walk out of the elevator you wipe your eyes trying to mask the fact you’ve been embarrassingly crying. And once again you collide with someone. Their hands steady you by grabbing your shoulders. You sigh and look up, seeing Jake with a concerned look plastered on his face.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” You scoff as if you’re offended by the accusation.

“What happened?”

“Just Officer Smith being a dick.” You mumble.

His thumb lightly brushes a stray tear from your eye, you unwillingly melt into his touch, it’s warm and makes you feel safe.

“Whatever he said to you is irrelevant. He’s the biggest jerk ever. Don’t stoop down to his level and listen to what he has to say. You’re worth so much more than that.”

“Thank you Jake.” You run your thumb over his knuckles, a soft smile apparent on your face. Jake squeezed your hand three times, and you return the gesture. His face immediately brightens up, your eyes meet and you find yourself getting lost in his.

You hear a clearing of a throat, you look to your side seeing captain Holt stood with him arms crossed. You immediately drop Jake’s hand and he lets go of your shoulder. You both go back to your own desks. Today has made you realise talking to Jake is the best solution, it was only making you both miserable being apart. So you write him a note reading: ‘want to come over later?’ You throw it at him and it hits him in the head.

You watch his reaction to reading it. He scribbles something back on the page and throws it in your direction, but unluckily it hits Holt right in the face as he walks past your desk. You watch Jake’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights as he quickly looks down and pretends to be writing.

“Who on earth threw that?!” Holt rages. Everyone looks up from their desks yet no one takes accountability. Holt picks up the paper and reads it out. “Want to come over later? As long as we can watch die hard. (Ps. that shirt you’re wearing looks hot af)”

Your face turns a deep crimson as you look down at your desk, refusing eye contact. Everyone is quiet, mostly likely mentally scarred by the note. until Charles pipes up.

“WOOHOO!” He yells. “my dream couple are back. Did take my advice Jakey?”

“No Charles. I did not spoon feed her duck soup!”

“Gosh it’s a miracle things worked out.” Charles replied. You look over to Amy who looks just as disgusted as you from Charles’ statement.

“You two my office. Now.” Holt says whilst walking back to his office.

Jake follows behind you into Holt’s office, you both take a seat as does Holt. He does not look happy, or so you assume. He was difficult to read.

“Today started wonderfully. Everyone had work done. I even cracked a smile.” Holt starts. “However you two acting like teenagers is ridiculous! Throwing notes to each other like you’re in middle school?”

“(Y/L/N) started it.” Jake shakes his head in dismay. “She’s such a child.”

“Shut up Peralta.” You smack his arm, making him pull a classic face at you. You roll your eyes and cross you arms looking back at your captain.

“If you two can’t act mature then I’ll have to come up with a plan to keep you apart.”

You both mutter a sorry and he dismisses you. Of course the second you step out of his office you look at Jake and the both of you burst out laughing.

“What did I just say!” Holt shouts out, you both stop laughing and immediately go back to your desks.

———————————————————————

Your door knocked and you went to answer it. standing there is Jake with flowers, a tiny teddy bear and a bag full of snacks. You smile and let him in, letting him know the pizza is on its way.

“For you my lady.” Jake says in a God awful posh accent. You take the flowers and other things from him. You find yourself blushing at the thought of him buying you these things.

“Well aren’t you just a gentleman.” You kiss his cheek, he takes your chin in his hand and moves your face to look at him. Your foreheads touch and he leans in to kiss you, the kiss is tender and loving. You run your free hand through his hair and slowly pull back.

“I’m sorry for not taking things seriously.”

“It’s okay.”

“No I was being an idiot. I love what we have, and of course I want to move in with you. But that freaked me out and I was unfair. I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I want this for us, I want to come home with you every night, I want to wake up next to you every morning. I’m serious about you, I should have just told you that from the start. but I messed things up and to think that I almost ruined us-“

You shut him up by kissing him, you feel his smile against your lips. His hands go to your hips pulling you closer. You slowly pull away and he pulls you into a hug. The scent his cologne fades all the worries and doubts, it was simple. Jake was the only possible person you ever wanted to be with, and things would work out because you both were dedicated to making it work.

“Thank you.” You slowly pull back and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Okay I’m glad that worked out because I already sold my apartment.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course you did.” You tease.

The pizza arrives and the two of you lay on your couch together, eating pizza and watching die hard for the thousandth time. At this point you swear you could recite the script. But if it makes Jake happy then it makes you happy.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #boyfriend! jake peralta #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #brooklyn 99 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff and angst #amy santiago #rosa diaz #gina linetti #charles boyle

[baifengxis]

2.06 ♡ 4.08

I wouldn't quit on us.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmtsedit #rina #rinaedit #ricky x gina #sofia wylie #joshua bassett #disneyplusedit #disneychanneledit #otpsource #tvedit #mediagifs #televisiongifs #mystuff #gifs #hsmtmts* #rina* #me giffing western things yes it happens once in a moon #RINA ONE OF THE BEST SHIPS OF OUR GENERATION BYE #also these gifs are terrible but we blame the show's lighting thanks <3

[ginaporterr]

RICKY & GINA High School Musical: The Musical: The Series | 4x08 – Born to be Brave

#hsmtmtsedit #hsmtmts #ricky x gina #usersnat #userelsbeth #userzaley #queenmay #both of them giving each other a moment in the spotlight... they let each other bejeweled #gina porter #ricky bowen #rina #s4 #4x08 #* #*requests #rinaedit #coloring this sequence is a nightmare #who decided there needed to be this many flashing lights #flashing gif

[goldengashes]

thinking of portwell being the leads in a tangled musical…

the vision is so clear.

#portwell #hsmtmts #ej caswell #gina porter #ej x gina #gina x ej #tangled #i see the light could’ve been portwell’s wdykal

[otalia]

#venice the series #otalia #gina brogno #ani martin #lara miller #venicetheseries #giani #gina x ani #crystal chappell #jessica leccia #nadia bjorlin #jordan clarke #galen gering #hillary b smith #guiding light #video #Pink Rabbit Productions

[irlpretear]

100 trans/genderqueer musicians

Bands

Against Me! (rock, folk punk) (x)

The Oozes (punk) (x)

The Hirs Collective (metal, grindcore) (x)

GEL (hardcore punk) (x)

Urn (hardcore punk) (x)

The Black Dresses (noise pop, hardcore hyperpop) (x)

Party Ghost (rock) (x)

Lagrimas (hardcore punk, scream punk) (x)

Doll Skin (rock) (x)

Dazey and the Scouts (rock, indie) (x)

G.L.O.S.S. (hardcore punk) (x)

Dog Park Dissidents (punk rock) (x)

She/Her/hers (rock) (x)

Deli Girls (hardcore electronic) (x)

Dream Nails (punk rock) (x)

Sarah and the Safe Word (rock, dark cabaret) (x)

Pinkie Promise (punk rock) (x)

B. Fraser (emo) (x)

Newgrounds Death Rugby (emo) (x)

Scowl (hardcore punk) (x)

Feminazgul (black metal) (x)

Sports Bra (dream pop, light rock) (x)

Club Sofa (indie pop) (x)

The Cost ov Living (grindcore, harsh noise) (x)

Kuromy (punk) (x)

The Sonder Bombs (indie, pop) (x)

Lidocaine (rock) (x)

I'm letting unseen forces take the wheel (cybergrind) (x)

Gum Disease (punk) (x)

Cam Girl (rock, trash rock) (x)

Gully Boys (grunge pop) (x)

Arcadia Grey (sparkle punk) (x)

Schmekel (folk punk) (x)

Destructo Disk (punk rock) (x)

User Unauthorized (hardcore punk) (x)

The Spook School (indie pop) (x)

Pinkshift (emo) (x)

Glass Beach (emo) (x)

Butch Baby (light rock) (x)

VIAL (indie punk) (x)

Sister Wife Sex Strike (folk punk) (x)

homewrecker. (metal, hardcore punk) (x)

Mega Mango (indie rock) (x)

Keep For Cheap (prarie rock) (x)

Steam Powered Giraffe (cabaret, steampunk) (x)

Thotcrime (grindcore, cybergrind) (x)

Whirlybird (indie pop) (x)

Kampsport (hardcore punk) (x)

Um Jennifer? (alt-rock, punk) (x)

Scarlet Demore (alt-rock) (x)

HappyHappy (folk, folk-punk) (x)

Queen Zee (punk) (x)

Grumpy Plum (slop pop) (x)

Cheap Perfume (punk) (x)

Pollyanna (power-pop, rock) (x)

Ballista (metalcore) (x)

Faetooth (fairy doom, metal) (x)

Lacerated (death metal) (x)

Fortuna Malvada (hardcore punk) (x)

Peach Rings (bedroom power-pop) (x)

Solo Artists

Laura Jane Grace (rock, folk punk) (x)

Left at London (pop) (x)

ZAND (pop, ugly pop) (x)

Ada Rook (hardcore electronic) (x)

Ms. White (pop) (x)

Rett Madison (indie, folk) (x)

Murder Person for Hire (folk) (x)

Backxwash (rap, industrial hip hop) (x)

LustSickPuppy (electronic, rap) (x)

Babylungs (electronic, rap) (x)

Human Kitten (folk punk) (x)

Harley Poe (folk punk) (x)

Ewy (emo, folk punk) (x)

Averstaskta (instrumental) (x)

Andie Schoen (indie) (x)

Elliot Lee (dark pop, electronic rock) (x)

Urias (hip hop, ballroom) (x)

Twink Obliterator* (cybergrind) (x)

Rio Romeo (cabaret punk, indie) (x)

Knife Girl (art pop, indie) (x)

Alexander James Adams (folk) (x)

Starmaxx (pop) (x)

Sofya Wang (pop, alt-R&B) (x)

Boy Jr (indie/alt pop) (x)

Medusa (revenge pop, hip-hop) (x)

Mal Blum (singer-songwriter, folk) (x)

Gina Young (riot grrrl) (x)

Petra Fiyd (indie pop) (x)

awfultune (bedroom pop) (x)

Quinn Hills (alternative pop) (x)

Femtanyl (electronic) (x)

Vivivivivi (electronic, glitchcore) (x)

Lilac Boy (glitchcore) (x)

Rosie Tucker (indie rock) (x)

Ryan Cassata (singer-songwriter) (x)

Pain Chain (noise, synth) (x)

In Love With A Ghost (electronic, lo-fi) (x)

Alice Longyu Gao (hyperpop) (x)

Prophetic Nightmares (ambient synthwave) (x)

Saint Wellesley (indie folk) (x)

#music #trans art #punk #queer art #some of these are incredibly obvious and some are very not so #also i say trans/genderqueer bc some of these artists are not explicitly out but still fall under the umbrella of queer #if i made a mistake and one of these artists is actually cis let me know too #im not adding to this list nor is it just a top 100 btw. just a selection #if you ask where is (popular artist) im gonna block you

[macfrog]

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

[hazenllas]

Mommy's Girl

pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Contains: smut, Eating out (r! Receiving) Dom! Regina, Regina being mean but it's like hot, fluff, Jealous Regina, I think that's all!

Apologies for any spelling mistakes, English isn't my first language.

Summery: nobody knows you and Regina are in a relationship. But when Regina sees someone trying to hit on you, she shows everyone who you belong to.

"Fuck baby, I missed you so much." Regina mumbles against your soft lips. "Mhm, I missed you more." You kiss Regina's lips hungrily. She grabs at your hips and you grind yourself against her. She puts her hands up your black oversized hoodie. You moan at the cold sensation of her fingertips against your breasts. Your head thuds against the wooden door feeling Regina's manicured hands massage your tits in a messy rhythm. You grab her face and kiss her with passionate and lust. "Hey we will pick this up later m'kay? If not I won't be able to keep my hands off of you." Regina kisses your neck and you thank the dim light of the janitor's closet because your face reddened with a soft pink tint. You nod with a bright smile and tumble out of the small room and readjust your sweater Regina had been messing with just earlier. At lunch you go to your usual spot where Janis and Damian were sitting. You sat down and vegan eating your salad. You look over at Regina's table to see her already staring at you with a smirk. She winks and turns back to her friends sitting with her. "So what's with you and Regina, Y/n" Janis asks playing with her fries. "W-what? What do you mean?" You shoot up at the girl infront of you with widened eyes. "I mean you're both always looking at eachother like you want to fuck eachother's brains off in a good way" You look at her and take a deep breath. "Listen you guys. I've been keeping this a secret for the longest time but, me and Regina are like together. We've been together for a few months but she doesn't feel ready to announce it publicly yet." You say holding your hands in a fingers crossed motion. "No way girl! How come you never told us?" Damian looks at you with the widest eyes you've ever seen. "I dunno, I guess I didn't want to risk anything." You shrug and continue to eat your salad. After school you quickly head to Regina's house. You knock on the door and find Regina on the other side. "Come on in baby, my parents aren't home yet." You nod and you both run towards her room like little girls. Once you both get in there Regina slams you against the door and you gasp in surprise. "Missed me that bad huh?" You jokingly say as Regina starts to leave bitemarks on your neck. "Oh shut up loser." Regina laughs and takes your baggy clothing off. She throws you on the bed and towers over you. "Fuck I miss this body baby." Regina kisses your body as she goes lower and lower to where you want her the most. "Please mommy." You groan and Regina smirks at you. She starts to kiss at your plush tight and looks up at you fit consent. You quickly nod and Regina wastes no time to lick a long strip through your pussy. Your body arches back and you hear Regina chuckle darkly. She continues to eat you out until you start to feel that familiar knot in your stomach. "Fuck mommy, I'm gonna cum" You manage to squeal out. "Fucking cum for me baby." As soon as Regina says these words you completely snap and ride out your high. Regina cleans you up and lays beside you. Regina gets a phone call and she quickly picks it up. You look up at Regina and then after she's talking on the phone she looks down at you. "I'm sorry baby, Gretchen, Karen, and Cady want to hang out this afternoon. I'm sorry." You quickly get your cloths on and look at her with a smile. "It's okay Gina,I have a ton of stuff to study tonight anyways." Regina nods and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

After getting home you decide to call one of your friends Bea to study with. To your surprise, she is throwing a party and asked you to come. You agreed and began getting ready. Once you got there you saw many drunk teens scattering the place. You settle in the kitchen and stare at your sprite. That is until a random girl who you don't know walks up to you. "Hey sweetheart, you with anyone?" You look up at her and shake your head. "Uh no actually. I was just invited here." You stand there awkwardly. You could tell she was drunk. She looked at you with hungry eyes and leans in to kiss you. Until she is shoved away by Regina. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Regina stands over the girl with fire in her eyes. "Shit uh Regina! This is uh this is my girlfriend!" You look at the girl who's on the ground with wide eyes. "Oh really? Let's see about that." Regina smirks and pulls you into a heavy kiss. You moan as you feel Regina put her hands over the space just above your ass. The girl on the ground looks at you both with scared eyes and runs off. Regina pulls away and laughs. You can't help but laugh with her. "Her fault, she should've known who you belong to." Regina pulls you in for one more kiss until she leads you into an empty bedroom.

#regina george renee rapp #regina george x reader #regina george smut #regina george x you #regina george #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #mean girls 2024

[sincerestlove]

Insecure - R.G.

i hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: None

“God, this outfit looks awful too!” Regina groaned loudly, haphazardly tossing her top across the room, landing somewhere on the floor along with the numerous others. She had been looking for an outfit for the better part of an hour now, for Karen’s graduation party. You sighed, a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips at the sight of your frustrated girlfriend.

You two had been together since sophomore year, now both scholarly graduates and attending the same school in the fall. The summer had just begun, and all of your friends were throwing their own respective graduation parties before you all went your separate ways.

You had just finished applying mascara at her vanity, turning to glance over your shoulder. “Gina.” You called out to her, but soon realized she didn’t even hear you over the grumbles and complaints that she was making under her breath. You stood up then, walking over to see her rifling through hangers inside the massive closet.

She jumped in surprise when you rested your hands on her tensed shoulders, her head whipping around, blonde hair almost smacking you in the face. “What is it, Y/N? I’m trying to find something to wear.” She spoke sharply, visibly stressed as the clock was ticking closer toward your departure time. You didn’t reply nor take her tone personally, instead gently tugging her toward the armchair seated in the corner of the closet. You physically pushed her down, motioning for her to sit, her bright blue eyes looking at you pointedly. “Really? We can’t have sex right now.” You sputtered a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the blonde’s forehead.

“Regina, I’m not trying to have sex right now. Just sit down and be quiet. I’m picking an outfit for you.” She raised a brow at your bold choice of words, but leaned back in the chair, letting out a breath. You booped her nose playfully, before turning to her mounds of clothing.

Taking a moment to take it all in, you moved to grab a pair of high waisted jeans, a tight fitting long sleeved pink top, and her signature docs. Holding up the outfit, you nodded in approval, handing Regina the clothes. She pursed her lips, but looked satisfied with your choices. You left the closet to allow her to change, moving back over to the vanity to make some last minute touch-ups to your light makeup and hair.

“Does this look okay?”

You spun around and felt butterflies in your stomach, taking in your girlfriend’s appearance. She looked gorgeous, top and jeans fitting her perfectly. You got up and walked over to Regina, who had a nervous furrow between her brow. You reached up, cupping her face and smoothing down the lines. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Gina. So beautiful.”

You saw a soft blush rise onto her cheeks, looking down bashfully. “I don’t know if I like it. My arms look huge.” You sighed, taking her hands and leading her to sit in front of the vanity. Carefully adjusting, you decided to sit on her lap, tucking a few strands of soft hair behind her ears.

She looked vulnerable, eyes filled with anxiety and self-doubt. The sight tugged at your heart. You cupped her face again, making sure not to ruin her makeup. “Gina, you look so pretty. You’re the prettiest girl in the world and you’ll be the prettiest girl at that party, as always.” You spoke sincerely, moving closer to press a soft kiss to her lips. Her hands came up to grip your hips, squeezing gently, but she didn’t say anything. “I’m serious. You are literally so pretty, it makes me want to scream.” She laughed at that one, bright teeth on display. You giggled along with her, kissing her again.

This time, she slightly deepened the kiss, teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip. A hand came up to tug on your hair, moving your head back. Regina took the opportunity to move her lips down to your exposed neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, leaving bruises in her path. Your head lolled back, moving up to rest your forearms on the cold vanity behind you. Regina continued kissing your neck, hands moving to sneak up your shirt, long nails dragging up and down your sides.

“Regina.” You warned, biting your lips to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out. “We have to get going, or we’ll be late.” The blonde hummed, feeling her smile against your neck.

“And?”

“Gina.”

“Ugh, fine.”

She groaned annoyedly, a small pout on her perfectly painted lips. You laughed, kissing her pout away with small pecks. “Later, I promise. Anything you want, I’m yours.”

“Anything?” She grinned, head cocked to the side. She looked absolutely adorable.

“Yes, Gina. Anything.” She smiled triumphantly.

As if I could ever say no to her.

She paused for a minute, fixing my shirt. “Thank you, by the way.” She spoke, eyes looking up at me with softness.

“For complimenting you and talking about how beautiful and hot you are? I can do that all day, baby.” You smiled, kissing her soft lips one more time, before moving to get off her lap and holding out a hand for her. We both grabbed our respective purses and Regina grabbed her car keys on our way out the door.

Once outside and in front of her bright pink Jeep, Regina moved to open the door for me, gesturing dramatically with her arm. “Get in, cutie. We’ve got a party to get to.”

thank you so much for reading!! :)

#regina george x reader #mean girls #regina george

[rougecreator1]

Beauty is Pain

|| Regina George x female reader

|| Warnings: gossip talk, hookup mention, Regina's got an attitude, light swearing, y/n use

|| Sumary: Regina's high heels have been hurting her all day. Reader notices and offers that they switch shoes.

Requests open!

~~~~

Regina would never admit it out loud, but she was exhausted. Walking around school all day in heels was never easy. Sometimes she might sneak a break in the bathroom and take them off for a few minutes. But she hasn't had the chance to do that yet. Well, beauty is pain. Isn't that what they say?

At the sound of last period bell, Regina headed for the cafeteria. Her and the rest of the plastics (including you) had planned on skipping and going shopping. Karen, Gretchen and Y/N were already seated at their usual table. Talking about any and all things gossip related as they waited for Regina.

"Oh my God! Did you hear that a jock hooked up with an art freak?" Gretchen asks, grinning as she talks about the latest gossip.

"Ew, seriously?" Regina makes her presence known as she joins them at the table, taking a seat next to Y/N who smiles and gives the blonde's cheek a kiss.

"Yes! Oh my God! It's been like all over snapchat private stories." Gretchen nods, taking out her phone to show Regina the stories," seriously not fetch."

"Gretchen! Stop trying to make fetch happen." Regina rolled her eyes, Y/N would raise an eyebrow at the blonde. Noticing how she seemed to be in a mood. Not wanting to ask out right with the girls there, she takes out her phone to text Regina.

Y/N: 'Are you okay?'

Regina glanced down at her phone in her hands when she felt it buzz. Looking back at Y/N who was watching her with a concerned gaze. The blonde scoffed and texted back.

Regina: 'Fine. Obviously 🙄 shut up'

Y/N read the text and sighed. She knew Regina well enough to know she wasn't actually fine and that her attitude was the result of something. She just didn't know what; Regina's attitude was not going to scare her away from finding out.

After chatting a little more, the girls all got up and started heading towards the front doors of the school to go shopping. That's when Y/N noticed Regina was walking slightly different. Almost like she had a slight limp? Everything fell into place and made sense.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed Regina by her arm and pulled her off to the side as Gretchen and Karen went to Regina's jeep. Too busy chatting with each other to notice Y/N and Regina stopped following.

"The hell are you doing?" Regina snapped, looking at her with a look mixed with frustration and confusion.

"Switch shoes." Y/N replied, in a tone that wasn't quite asking or demanding. It was somewhere between the two.

"Excuse me? No, I'm not wearing your sneakers." Regina folded her arms as she stared down Y/N. Y/N, however, wasn't intimidated. Something Regina found awfully annoying." Plus, you can't even fucking walk in heels. You'll just embarrass both of us."

"I wasn't asking, Gina." Y/N replied, standing her ground on this. She wasn't going to let the blonde torture herself just to make a fashion statement.

Regina was taken aback. She wasn't used to being talked back to. Who in their right mind would dare talk back to Regina George? Clearly, Y/N would. Whether it was stupid or brave, Regina didn't know. Part of her couldn't help but feel impressed by her girlfriend's stubbornness with this. Usually she would argue with her, but the blonde wasn't in the mood. So (very reluctantly) she agreed. Not without groaning and rolling her eyes first, though. Obviously.

Regina reached down, one hand on Y/N's shoulder as she took off her heels. Y/N smirked, feeling pretty proud of herself for getting Regina to agree. She places her heels in Y/N's hands.

"Thank you." Y/N takes off her own shoes and hands them to Regina, the two then put on the shoes. Y/N struggling more than Regina as she nearly falls over once both feet were on the ground. Instinctively, Regina caught her before she could and scoffs. Though she makes no effort to let go of her. Even going out of her way to link their arms together so she could support her girlfriend. Y/N raises an eyebrow at Regina when she does this.

"Don't even. I'm just making sure you don't embarrass us both." Regina mutters, glaring at Y/N. Though her tone didn't come out as harsh as she wanted it to. She wasn't exactly truthful in her statement. She refuses to admit the real reason, but Y/N can tell.

With Regina's help, the two get to the jeep where Karen and Gretchen are waiting for them.

~~~

feedback and requests are welcomed :)

#mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x fem!reader #female reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #fanfic #canon x reader #x reader

[ginaporterr]

It's time to turn it up, game on!

HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL: THE MUSICAL: THE SERIES | 4x07 – Night of Nights

#hsmtmtsedit #hsmtmts #ricky x gina #usersnat #userelsbeth #userzaley #queenmay #TROOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #make me strong 😣 #ricky bowen #gina porter #rina #s4 #4x07 #* #*requests #rinaedit #hsmtmts spoilers #flashing gif #lighting changes killing me

[superhaught]

Incurable Cravings

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI)

Word Count: 1800, Part 1/?

Part 2 / Part 3

Regina bullies reader and ends up getting exactly what she wants.

Explicit content below!

You would think that keeping your head down, wearing your headphones and staying out of people’s way would mean that you could go about your day unbothered, but that was not the case today. 

You navigated through the crowded hallways at school easily enough but if fucking Jason Weems hadn’t gotten in your way, you wouldn’t have accidentally bumped into Regina. You barely touched her really, but no one, not even her former best friend, could get away with doing anything that could so much as irritate her. 

You cursed under your breath as she turned around and gave you her signature death-glare. 

“Did you just fucking try to push me? Oh my god! You totally did, didn’t you? Gretchen, you saw that, right?”

Gretchen feigned shock, “I totally saw, Regina, you’re so right.”

Regina raised an eyebrow and brought her hand to her chest as if she had been truly scandalized, “you absolute bitch!” The blonde reached out and knocked your books out of your arms, scattering them to the floor. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes out of habit. Regina grabbed your chin hard, “and now you have the audacity to roll your eyes at me? Are you fucking kidding?”

You clenched your jaw and didn’t say anything in response. Regina shook your chin forcefully, “are you going to apologize or what?”

Was it the best choice to make Regina more angry? No, of course not. But you were so sick of the bullshit. She wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, you would have trusted her with anything. Once, you, Janis, and Regina were the inseparable trio. You weren’t cool, you didn’t have to be. You had each other. None of you judged the others’ interests or outfits or houses. You just loved each other. 

Not anymore though.

“I didn’t fucking do anything, Regina.”

“Oh, absolutely the fuck not.” Suddenly, Regina’s grip shifted to the back of your neck and she was shoving you forward. She threw open the janitor’s closet and pushed you inside, making you stumble against the sink. You hit your hip on the ceramic and winced, you’d have a bruise later for sure, but in that moment you knew that would be the least of your worries after Regina planted herself between you and the closet door and shut it behind her. 

She didn’t turn on the closet light, so you were trapped in a dark closet with the taller girl with no feasible way of getting out. 

“What the hell is your fucking problem, Regina?” You demanded. 

“What’s my problem? My problem is that I fucking despise you. I’m sick of seeing your fucking face in my school and yet, it seems like everywhere I go, there you are.”

“Jesus Christ, get over yourself, Regina.”

She put her hands on your chest and shoved you backwards, pushing you against the shelves of cleaning supplies, “how about you get a fucking grip and start treating me with the respect I deserve?”

“Respect? Why the fuck should I respect you?”

Regina scoffed, “because if you don’t, I will make your life a living hell.”

“What the hell happened, Regina? What happened to us?”

“I grew up. You and Janis didn’t. Is that supposed to be my fault? It’s so fucking pathetic that you and her blame me when all I did was learn how to get what I want.”

“You know what I think, Gina?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” She shoved you again. 

“Answer the question.”

“Why do I care what you think?”

“I think you’re a big fucking liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think that you’re a big. Fucking. Liar. For starters, you don’t despise me. And I think you actually care, a lot. And I think you have no idea how to get what you actually want, and that’s why you’re like this.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Just admit it already.” You were being bold. Maybe too bold. But for some reason, at this moment, you didn’t really care. If you were right, this could change everything. And you were pretty sure that you were right. 

Regina never left you alone. All of these years had gone by and Regina never stopped tormenting you. She always put her hands on you every chance that she got. She didn’t continue to bother Janis in that way. But you always faced her wrath. 

Regina was stunned into silence at your words. 

You lowered your voice to a whisper, “you don’t hate me, do you, Regina?”

She squeezed your upper arms, digging her acrylic nails into your skin, “I… I…”

“Say it,” you leaned in and brought your lips right against her ear, “say that you crave me. Say that you always have.”

The blonde’s breath caught in her throat and she squeezed you harder, drawing blood with the points of her nails, “you’re such a fucking cunt…”

“That’s not a denial, is it?”

“Fuck you…” she whispered. 

“No, Regina. I think I’d rather fuck you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? And wouldn't it be the biggest show of respect for me to give you exactly what you want?”

She grabbed your chin again. Your core tightened with terror, but then she yanked you close and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, immediately biting your bottom lip and pressing her tongue into your mouth, claiming you as hers. 

Your instincts tell you to melt at her touch and just let her take you, but you knew it would be much more satisfying to get back at her just a little bit. 

You matched the intensity of her kiss and fought her for control over it, bringing one hand to her waist and the other up to her neck, giving just the slightest squeeze and pulling away from her, you decided to tease, “there you go, Regina… isn’t that so much better?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me…”

Regina pressed into you again and kissed you even harder than before. The kiss was absolutely intoxicating and made you want to black out from pure bliss but you were determined to make sure that you didn’t take the back seat for even a second during this. You held onto her and pulled her in closer, pressing your chests against each other and burying your fingers into her hair as you kissed feverishly. You began to move your lips along her jawline, making her produce this delicious moan that you’d never forget. Your lips danced along her soft, sensitive skin and sucked at it lightly, teasingly, not to leave marks but to make her think you would. You grabbed her earlobe between your teeth and bit ever so slightly, and then kissed down her jugular. 

You felt her begin to grind her hips against you and you giggled happily, “you wanted me so badly, didn’t you?”

She could only respond with a long moan of pleasure. Your own chest filled with warmth as your heart pounded, the blondes’ sounds sending shockwaves through your system and between your legs. 

You grind your hips in tandem with her and create that friction you both need, “let me make you feel good, Gina. Let me take care of what you need, babygirl…”

“Fuck… fuck… yes… please… please…” she whined. 

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes… ohmygod yes, please…”

You kiss Regina again and turn the both of you around, pushing her back against the shelves. You kiss her lips hungrily and then pull away slightly, her sticky lip gloss making a smacking sound when you separate, a string of spit connecting you. You whisper against her lips, “I’ve always wanted you…”

“Shut up…” she gasped, “shut up… just shut up and fuck me…”

“Aw,” you tease, “It’s cute that you think you’re calling the shots right now…”

Regina groaned, “you… fuck-”

“Relax, babygirl… I’m just teasing. You’ll get what you need, I promise.” You let your hands trail down her sides and untuck her shirt from her pants, tracing the pads of your fingers over her hip bones, “I’ve never wanted to deny you what you want, Gina… you want me to touch you?”

“God…” she groaned, “yes… touch me…”

You smile and slowly slide your hand down the front of her pants. She moans and bucks her hips forward. Your fingers graze over her panties and you can feel how wet she is. You simply move the gusset of her underwear to the side and start to rub your middle finger through her folds and she moans deeply, arching her back and leaning against the wall. 

“You want this, Regina?”

“Yes… yes…”

You nod and start to circle her clit. 

She sighs and grinds against you, “stop being so fucking gentle!”

“What’s wrong, Gina? Impatient?”

Regina groans and you give her what she wants by sliding your middle finger inside. You can tell straight away that she’s already close to finishing, her muscles clench around you and her knees go weak. You support her with your other arm and add your ring finger and start to pump your fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit that spot. 

The blonde throws her head back and moans loudly, crying out your name. It’s music to your ears but you say, “shhh, Regina… don’t let everyone hear you cumming on the fingers of the person you’re supposed to hate the most…”

She groans again and lifts her arm up, biting down on her own forearm to silence herself. 

“Good girl,” you praise. Regina moans and her eyes roll back. You had no idea you’d be able to make her fall apart so easily. She keeps rolling her hips, fucking herself on your fingers now rather than letting you continue to tease her. You indulge it and press your thumb on her clit and soon enough she’s completely coming undone. Regina’s body shakes erratically and you feel her walls tighten around your fingers as she comes.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuck…” she breathes, “fucking shit…” Regina grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you forward, kissing you deeply and pulling the hair at the nape of your neck. 

You kiss her and moan into her mouth. She pulls on your hair and yanks your head back, “I hate you… I hate you so fucking much…”

“No you don’t… you’re confusing two strong emotions, Gina…”

“How the fuck do you know what I feel?” 

You try to look into her bright blue eyes but can't see well in the dark closet, but you're certain you heard it in her voice. You lift your hand up to her cheek and caress your thumb over it, confirming your suspicions as you wipe a tear off of her skin.

You sigh, “because I feel it, too.”

Next Chapter

#regina george x reader #regina george fanfic #renee rapp regina george #renee rapp #mdni #18+ content #fanfiction #original writing #mean girls 2024 #regina george lesbian #incurable cravings #regina george

[wrongplacerighttime]

agent!harry x agent!fmc

part one here ᵕ̈ // little bunny masterlist

the one where grace and harry don’t want to admit their feelings, then another undercover opportunity comes up, this time at a swinger party. harry gets jealous, grace hates him and swears she’ll never speak to him again (but does she really?) // little bunny part 2

ITS FINALLY DONE!!!!!! Im sorry it’s SO LATE ksckskckskc you can be mad it’s okay i understand im terrible.

wc: 6.1k

tw: mentions murder, swinger party (not harry and grace), jealous!harry, angsty vibes, unprotected sex, little bit of fluff at the end

Only You

“No! Absolutely not!” Grace snapped at Harry, stomping her foot like a Kindergartener who didn’t get their way. Harry grins at her display of frustration while crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves around his biceps tightening. She doesn’t ever want to go undercover again, not after the last time. “You could ask literally anybody else.” She gestured out of the conference room window to their coworkers Gina and Kelly standing around the desk of a police officer, one whose name Grace didn’t remember. They’re discussing details of the most recent case before they go out to the latest crime scene.

“Yeah…but they don’t always fit the profile.” Harry argued back, then his smile grew. “You, however…you always fit the profile, bunny.”

She straightens, her mouth opening to speak before she quickly snaps it closed when she can’t gather her thoughts fast enough to answer. A heat swirls below her belt, one that she can’t blame on the Dallas climate. The weather was brutal, and to top it off, the air conditioning in the station was out. Stand up fans and box fans littered around the station only blew hot air around, not giving them any reprieve. She feels a bead of sweat trickle down her temple, her eyes trail over Harry, flicking to the three buttons of his shirt that were undone and showing just enough of his chest and the light sheen of sweat. She licks her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth, her mind wandering. He looks like sex, standing there with his hands on his hips and his gun holstered on his belt. She imagines herself striding the short distance over to him and crashing her lips to his before dipping her head down and trailing her tongue over—

“Besides, I was just asking in case we did need to go undercover again, would you?” His voice pulls her from her daydream. She blinks the imagery from her mind, forcing herself back into the mindset she needs for this case.

“No. Final answer. Ask someone else.” She turns on her heel, walking out of the room before she can’t satiate the heat pooling between her thighs.

“Way to be a team player!” He yells from the doorway, causing heads to turn her direction. She doesn’t turn around, instead flipping her middle finger up towards him as she creates more distance between them. She rounds the corner, eyes falling to the floor as she makes her way to the breakroom. She grabs a water from the fridge, leaning against the counter before downing half of it. She breathes a heavy sigh, making a mental note to tell Aaron that she needed some time off after this case.

Grace and Harry haven’t been together since the case in Seattle. The martini’s she had that night forced her into a brief lapse of judgment, as gin usually did. Her clouded mind made her desire for a man who didn’t want her grow into something unfathomable. That night, after they left the room, Jesse made his move on Grace like they expected he would. His partner, the woman whose name they later found out was Margot, had cornered Harry when Grace went to retrieve her coat. Once Harry was distracted, Jesse followed Grace out the door and down the sidewalk, what he didn’t expect was Aaron to be following him as well. She knew Aaron wouldn’t let Jesse get too far, but she was still scared when he grabbed her from behind and dragged her into a dark alley. He put a knife to her throat and whispered in her ear about how she was a disgrace, pathetic and powerless for cheating on her fictional husband. She almost grabbed her gun from her coat pocket, but she wasn’t expecting Harry to be the one pulling her away, holding her to his chest as Aaron grabbed Jesse and put him in cuffs. And even though Grace wanted to be the one to do it, she found in that moment, that she didn’t care. She was just glad they got there before he slit her throat.

She shakes the traumatic memory from her mind, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Maybe it was just the heat, or maybe it was the fact that this case was almost too similar. Except now their new suspect was targeting young married couples. They don’t have much to go on yet, but they knew they needed to act quickly. Grace turns information over in her head, thinking, trying her hardest to come up with some idea. The first couple found was assumed to be a murder-suicide, until the next couple showed up a week later with the same exact MO. They know he forced them to have sex before he kills them, but he makes them wear a condom. To them, it makes no sense. The couples are married, and why would he make them wear a condom if he was just going to kill them? He’s in control of the entire situation, making them comfortable before shooting them at point-blank range after the husband “finishes”.

She combs through the information over and over, forcing her mind to find any new angle that she can come up with but she fails. She rubs her sweaty palms over her jeans and walks back towards the main area of the station. Gathered around a whiteboard, Harry and Aaron are discussing possible motives with a few officers. Harry mentions their last case, the sex club and asks them if there's anything like that around this area. An idea sparks in Grace’s mind, and she makes her way to them.

“What if it’s a swinger community?” She blurts out and they turn to look at her, Harry raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing we have suggests that.” Harry mutters and her nostrils flare, because of course he would be arguing with her. That’s what he does best.

“Nothing suggests another sex club either, jackass.” She snaps at him, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “How would he get them to even agree to go anywhere with him unless they were already open to the idea of having a third?” Harry’s eyes travel down to the V in her shirt, giving him a view of her chest that’s speckled red from heat before he rakes them over the curve of her hips. His eyes flick back to her face studying the baby hairs stuck to her temple with sweat while she talks. His jaw ticks once and he turns back to the whiteboard.

“I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that, Styles.” Aaron interjects, and Harry rolls his eyes, capping the marker he was holding and walking away. When no one shares his theories, he gets angry because he can’t piggyback onto them for defense. “I’m going to call Agent Morgan and Agent Jones, tell them to find out whatever they can about the swinger community in this area.” Grace nods, walking towards the door in hopes she can find any reprieve from the stuffy heat inside the station. Once outside, she leans against the building, running a hand over her forehead damp with sweat and swears under her breath. She could already tell it was going to be a long week.

—

By Wednesday, they were fed up. With the case, with the heat, and with each other. It was the hottest day of the week by far. They were shedding any layers they could while still maintaining modesty, but thankfully, the officers were understanding when they walked in to see the women in tanktops and the men with their buttons undone down their chests. They had it worse, and Grace felt sorry for them, always having to have a full uniform and heavy gear strapped to their belts. Grace flicks her gaze up from a file she was reading as Lieutenant Nathan Davis strides through the door of their conference room carrying a file. He smiles at her and she mirrors it back to him, everyone noticing that he’s taken a quick liking to her. Something she’s never been good at identifying.

“Hey, I think I have something here.” He says, laying the file of the most recent murder on the table before pulling over the one from the first. “Both husbands, they’re what one could consider “alphamales”. They go to the gym and work out relentlessly, they have high-power careers. People who knew them said they had kind of overbearing personalities.” He points out highlighted areas and Grace nods. Harry narrows his eyes.

“But they have no specific traits that make them similar. The women however…” He trails off, turning to look at the board with their pictures pinned up, and it was uncanny, the similarities between the two women. Once they noticed, an uneasy ambience settled over the room.

After a few hours, most of the team had checked out and gone to the hotel. The lieutenant was still in the conference room, sat next to Grace and attempting to make small talk while they worked. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he worked on the geographical profile, facing away from them as to not give away his expression.

“So, how's life in D.C? Is it as busy as everyone says it is?” Nathan asks her and she nods, eyebrows pulling together before she relaxes the muscle.

“It’s always busy. But it’s not so bad. I like it there, lots of history in that city. I’m into that sort of thing.” She answers as she highlights part of the coroner's report.

“I’ve been thinking about making a trip there. Maybe when I do we could get together.” He suggests and she grins.

“Oh for sure! I could show you the best museums.” She says, and looks back down at the report in front of her, not picking up on his flirting. Harry rolls his eyes, turning around to grab another push pin. He peeks up from his lashes, catching the way Nathan keeps flicking his eyes down to Graces lips, and the way he scoots his chair closer to her but she scoots away and creates a distance between them. He almost laughs, but covers it up with a cough causing the both of them to glance in his direction. He didn’t look up at them, instead turning to the board and putting the red pin in its rightful place, hiding his smirk from them.

—

Grace and Harry stayed at the station until the night dissipated into morning, the orange sun rising in the sky as the rest of their team made their way into the conference room. They relayed information, dismissing themselves to the hotel to get a few hours of sleep. Grace tried all night to have conversations with Harry but received one word responses or a cold shoulder in general and she was at her wits end by the time they were walking down the block towards the hotel.

They walked in silence, and Grace felt like she was running to keep up with Harry’s long strides, and it wouldn’t take an expert to see that he was tense. His expression was hardened and his fists were shoved deep into his pockets, eyes never straying from the path ahead of them. She swallows, opening her mouth to speak and before she can even get a word out he interrupts her.

“Don’t.” He warned, and her mouth snapped shut, looking down at the ground with a sigh.

“Noted.” she muttered under her breath, acknowledging he wasn’t in the mood to speak to her. She doesn’t know if he’s upset at her or frustrated with the case, but she decides on the latter because she can’t think of any reason why he would be angry at her.

They go their separate ways once they reach their floor, Harry going straight and Grace turning right off the elevator. She fumbles with the keycard, pushing the door open as soon as the light turns green and locking it behind her. She trudges to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes and taking the coldest shower she can stand, washing the sticky feeling sweat had left behind on her skin. Refreshed, she dresses into a more comfortable outfit and slips on a pair of shoes, deciding she was going to walk down the hallway and see if Harry wanted to get something to eat before they inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

She knocks once, and the door swings open. He’s standing there, towel wrapped around his hips with water dripping off the ends of his hair. He huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms popping at the position. She swallows the nervous lump in her throat as he stares at her, his gaze making her almost uncomfortable.

“I-I just wanted to check on you. It just seems like something is bothering you and I just wanted to see if—”

“See if what? If you could fix it?” He interrupts her, and she shakes her head in shock at his tone. “What if you’re what's bothering me? Then what, Grace?” He tilts his head, studying her, and it's almost condescending, the way he’s speaking to her.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“You think just because we fucked one time I’m going to be nice to you?” He stares at her with a hardened expression and she’s confused. She doesn’t understand the change in his mood, and he’s never spoken to her this way before. He stands there, looking down at her fiddling with her fingers and he almost caves. Almost. He needs to push her away, he doesn’t want her to get comfortable with him. The only way to do that is if he’s callous towards her so she’ll run away from him, then he’ll have his sanity back. Because the truth is terrifying to him, and since the moment he crashed his lips to hers in that club, the only thing he can think about is the way she tasted. They way she squeezed around his cock just right. The way she whimpered into his mouth when he thumbed over her clit. He’s craving her. But, he can’t face the feelings he has for her. He doesn’t want to admit that he was jealous watching Nathan flirt with her at the station…and Grace couldn’t tell he was wearing the mask that he’s become so comfortable behind.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay…and if you wanted to get breakfast since we were at the station all night…” Her voice trails off and she feels small under his patronizing stare, her eyes flicking down to her feet and the floor.

“You should go ask Lieutenant Nathan if he wants to get breakfast with you. The man already has a hard on for you and if you ask him he’ll probably cum in his pants.” He sneers and she snaps her head back up to him, he’s leaning against the doorframe, and she doesn’t know where this is even coming from.

“That’s what this is about?” She becomes defensive now, and she scoffs. “Are you jealous?” She laughs, a laugh laced with sarcasm and he grips his bicep, the muscle dimpling under his skin at the force. “That’s rich coming from you Harry, really. Just because a man is being nice doesn’t mean he’s flirting. And you have no right to be jealous even if he was.” Her breath is heavy with rage in her lungs, and his eyes flare with something she can’t quite pinpoint. She feels her cheeks redden from the anger taking over her conscience.

“You know, I don’t want to tiptoe around your feelings, Grace.” His voice is low, and her hands ball in fists at her sides. “You’re just…pathetic and helpless…like a little bunny.” The words come out before he can stop them, the same words Jesse used against her in that dark alley less than three weeks ago, and she visibly flinches, the fire in her eyes dying out. His flare for a moment longer before it dissipates and the reality of what he actually said hits him. His expression softens, and he reaches for her. She steps back, moving away from him like his touch would burn her. Her gaze hardens again, the heat behind her cheeks simmers.

“Fuck you, Harry.” The words fall from her lips, burning like venom and she storms away from him. Her steps come faster, and then she’s sprinting down the hall far, far away from him. No amount of distance feels like enough. The combination of tears falling down her cheeks and the wind from running cools her burning skin. Rounding the corner, she fumbles with her keycard as she reaches the door, her vision blurring making it hard to see the slot, but once she jams it in she throws the door open and shuts it behind her, leaning against it and sliding to the floor. She sobs, thinking of any reason why his words would affect her like this. He’s always been an asshole, always saying things to get under her skin…but none of them have ever hurt in this way.

Behind his door, Harry is pacing, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the root. He didn’t mean to let his anger take over, speaking for him in a moment like that. It was a terrible form of self-sabotage, the way he always let his emotions get the best of him. He wanted to go to her, apologize (something he never did), but he had a feeling he just fucked up any chance he had with her.

—

Grace had moved to the bed at some point, hugging her knees to her chest before she drifted into sleep. In her dreams, all she saw was the anger behind Jesse’s eyes when he grabbed her, her eyes close as Jesse gets close to her face, his words spitting from behind his lips, and when she opens them, it’s not Jesse holding her against the wall. It’s Harry.

She jolts awake, sitting up in the bed, pressing her fingers into her eyes to force the image of him away. She checks the time on her phone, jumping from the bed and throwing on an outfit that better suits her line of work. She straps her holster on her belt, walking out the door. She makes her way down the street to the station, going inside to find her team gathered in the conference room, minus Harry. She sighs with relief and finds a chair, joining in with conversation as Aaron informs them about new information pertaining to their case.

“We have found out that this man has to be married, there’s no way for him to get into the swinger parties without a partner. We don’t suspect the wife has anything to do with his crimes, or if she even knows he’s committing them.” Aaron pulls a chair out, sliding into it and his eyes move to movement coming through the doorway. Out her peripheral, Grace see’s Harry pull up a chair to the table.

“We want you to go undercover again, Grace.” He clears his throat once, and her eyes meet his. “You’re his type…as uncanny as that sounds.” Just like last time.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” she mutters, picking at her fingernails. Her mind wanders away from the conversation. Her teeth sunk into the skin of her lip, the metallic taste of her own blood meeting her tongue. She tried to stay out of her own mind, but it was hard when the only thing she thought about was if she would be in danger again. She feels Harry’s voice fading in through her thoughts as she forces her attention back to the conversation.

“...and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me and Grace to go undercover together again.” His eyes flick over to her momentarily before he looks back at Aaron.

“Well, I guess it could be—”

“I could do it.” A voice behind them speaks and they all turn to see Lieutenant Nathan standing in the doorway, holding a folder in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just overheard the conversation. I’m willing to go in there, with Grace.” He looks at Harry once before going back to Aaron, then to Grace. “I’d just need a little bit of a rundown on what to do.” He says to her and she nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She agreed. “I can give you the basics.” Her voice is low and he nods at her, and she stands, following him out the door.

Harry watches her go.

—

She’s nervous, she can’t deny it. Nathan holds her hand in his, fingers laced together as they stand in front of the mahogany door. He rings the doorbell, reminding himself of the backstory they decided on and straightens his posture. Grace fiddles with the earpiece tucked behind her hair, feeling like something is sticking out of place and poking her. She tries to ignore the feeling as she looks up at Nathan, waiting. The door opens and the hostess of the party smiles, making room for them to walk through the door. She introduces herself as Diana, and informs them of the rules for the night. She knows who they are and why they’re here, Aaron giving her a rundown when he called her into the station. She was sworn to secrecy, and more than willing to let them into her house to catch the man who was killing people she had considered friends.

She knew that Aaron and the rest of the team were set up down the road, sitting and waiting in their SUVs for the signal once the suspect was in their car with them and driving down the road to their secondary location. She felt a little bit of comfort knowing that they would arrest him before he even got the chance to hurt them, but she was still terrified after her situation with Jesse and she didn’t want to risk being put into another situation like that.

She felt Nathan's hand squeeze hers, silently reassuring her that he was here and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her…a stark contrast to the touch she received from Harry when they were in their similar situation. She was just thankful that she didn’t have to walk into this party wearing almost nothing. Her eyes flitted over the room of people, looking for anyone who fit their profile. He would be a little jittery, but nothing that would be noticeable to any unassuming person. He’s going to be someone people trust, someone who could easily lure them away. A familiar face in the crowd for the unsuspecting party goers.

Nathan rests his hand on the small of her back, pulling her to his side to show affection like a typical married couple would. He bends over, kissing her temple once and her cheeks heat from the gesture.

“You look really nice, by the way. I didn’t get to say that before we came in here.” He whispers in her ear and she looks up at him, giving him a small smile. She glances around the room once more, trying to put a face to their profile. She breathes in once, seeing a man chatting up a couple before his eyes glance around until they meet hers. A man with short, dark hair. About 5’7” in height. He takes a seat beside them on the couch, introducing himself as Steven Durst. He’s married to a woman named Billie, who’s also around the house somewhere he states. He doesn’t elaborate on much, only telling them he’s the manager of a hedge fund that deals with something outside of Grace’s realm of knowledge. She clocks his mannerisms, noticing the way his leg bounces up and down, and the way he chews on his lip. She notices his attention on her for the entirety of the conversation he’s having with Nathan.

She excuses herself to the bathroom, walking down the hall and slipping behind the safety of the door, locking it behind her.

“Aaron, I think we have our guy. Steven Durst.” She speaks quietly to him and her voice comes through the walkie he has in the cupholder between him and Harry. He relays the message to the police department, and they have a file on this guy in a matter of seconds. He looks over to Harry in the passenger seat, tense and looking out the window into the distance. His brows are furrowed together but he doesn’t say anything to him.

All Harry has heard for the past thirty minutes is Nathan complimenting and flirting with Grace and it’s making him resentful of a man he doesn’t even know. He’s staring at nothing, thinking about how he should be the one in there with her, he shouldn’t have backed down from the job when he was asked.

His thoughts race but he’s pulled from them when he hears the click of the gear shift as Aaron puts the car in drive. They follow the car that Grace is in with their suspect, and he swears he’ll kill this one if he even thinks of touching her. They drive for what feels like forever, keeping their distance a few cars back as they hear Steven Durst through the earpiece saying sinful things, things Harry could never think of and implicating himself. He feels his anger bubbling in his chest at the thought of this disgusting person saying these vile things to Grace. His Grace.

Whatever happens next is a blur to him. They pull into the parking spot beside Nathan’s car and Harry pulls Steven from the back seat before Steven can even get his gun from his waistband. He pulls it out for him, chucking it into the grass and putting the man in handcuffs. He pushes him over to Aaron, who takes hold of the chain between the locks and walks him to a police car. Grace walks away, going to the other car and not the one Harry came in and jumping in the backseat without so much as a glance in his direction. He drops his hands to his sides, defeated before getting back into the passenger seat and sitting in silence as they make their way back to their hotel.

—

Grace is brushing her teeth when she hears a loud banging on her door, and whoever it is sounds impatient as they persistently bang their fist against the metal. She looks at herself once in the mirror before going to look through the peephole. Standing on her tiptoes, she sees Harry standing there, unable to read his expression because his head is tilted towards the floor as he waits for her to open the door. She sighs heavily, debating on whether or not she should open it…but then he bangs his fist again and she’s had it.

“What the fuck do you want?” She sneers as she opens it and he doesn’t acknowledge her, just storms his way into her room right past her. She lets go of the door, allowing it to close as she follows him deeper into the room. She sees him standing with his back towards her. “Hello? You can’t just barge in here like—”

“You’re a real piece of work, Grace.” He laughs, but it's not one of humor. He turns to face her, and his pupils are blown. She knows that look. It’s the same look he gave her in that private room of the club. The one she saw when he was driving his cock into her deeper than anyone else has ever reached. And even though she’s still angry, she can’t help the heat that swirls in her chest and travels straight to her thighs.

“What now, Harry? Please enlighten me.” Her sarcasm has him shaking his head, running his tongue over his bottom row of teeth before he answers.

“Think I liked listening to that fucker flirt with you all night? Trying to win you over with a cheesiness that would make any sane person cringe.” He states and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Aaron asked you if you would—”

“No. You were pissed at me, and that would’ve given us away too quickly.” He interrupts and she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, then you have no reason to be mad when you declined the offer.” She crosses her arms, and his eyes trail over her body. Her shirt that was oversized and dropped just down to her thighs, thighs he wanted wrapped around his waist more than anything else. “For the record, I’m still pissed. Now leave.” She points to the door and he smirks.

“Do you really want me to though?” He slowly closes the distance between them, and she retreats away until her back meets the wall. He cages her head between his arms, head dipping to her line of vision. His lips are so close that she could pucker and they would touch. She keeps them in a thin line, not wanting to give away her guise. He nudges her nose with his. “He’s not me.”

“Maybe that’s what I like about him.” Her words come out breathless, her voice betraying her. Her lips brush his as she speaks and he hums.

“Y’know…ever since Seattle, can’t stop thinking of the little noises you make, the way you squeeze around me when you cum. The feeling of your fingers twisting in my hair…You ruined me for anyone else, bunny.” He mutters and she whimpers, her eyes fluttering closed. He pulls away. “But, call Nathan. Tell him to come fuck you.” He drops his arms, moving towards the door but she grabs his bicep before he can get too far.

“No. Want you.” She assures him and he surges forward, lips crashing into hers as he captures her face in his hands. And it’s blissful, the way his tongue dances with hers. She whimpers again into his mouth as he fists the hair at the nape of her neck. He trails his hands down her body, tapping her hips once and she jumps, he catches her on the back of her thighs as she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries to the bed, the kiss never faltering. She wraps her arms around the back of his neck as he lays her down. He pulls away momentarily as he pushes her shirt up, exposing her body to him and he lets out a groan, his head dropping to her chest as he pulls the shirt over her head. He wants nothing more than to taste her and have her squirming and shaking just from his tongue lapping at her. She watches him admiring her body, knowing he’s just taking her time to make her beg, make her needy like he wanted her to be the first time.

The heat between her thighs grows and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his arms under her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. He drags his lips lightly up the skin of her inner thighs before his hot breath blows over her clit and makes her buck her hips upwards towards him. She whines and he backs away, creating distance.

“Let me take my time, Grace.” His voice is sweet and honeyed, making her breath catch in her throat. She almost argues, but before she can get a word out his tongue drags through her folds and flicks her clit and she lets out a moan so loud her neighbors would think she’s watching porn. He hums with satisfaction as his mouth closes around her and the vibrations send waves of pleasure straight down her spine.

“Taste so sweet, bunny. Never gonna be able to give you up.” He mutters against her and her hands find his hair, grabbing and fisting as she pulls his head back to her. He licks and sucks at her clit, eating her like a man starved and his name falls from her lips between moans over and over, bringing her closer to release. She glances down as his eyes come up to look at her. He smirks and lets his eyes flutter closed, getting lost in her and she doesn’t think she can hold on any longer.

“H-harry. Gonna cum.” She breathes out and her chest heaves as her breaths become labored.

“I know, sweet girl. Let go for me.” His encouraging words mixed with him pushing two fingers into her is all it takes. He pumps his fingers, hooking and curling finding just the right spot, and she tumbles over the ledge, crying his name over and over as he works her through it. He comes back up to her, kissing her and tasting herself on his tongue is the most erotic she’s ever felt.

“Please.” She begs against his lips and he doesn’t waste any time pulling his heavy cock out of his pants and stripping his shirt off his torso. Her nails rake down his chest and he pumps once with his hand before lining up with her entrance, dragging the head of his cock through her arousal. He pushes in slowly, dropping his head to her shoulder as he groans. He stills once he’s fully inside her, allowing her to adjust to him. She grips onto his biceps as he pulls out to the tip and slowly goes back in. He moans against her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and her eyes flutter closed, feeling every ridge and every vein. He brings his forehead to meet hers, lips enveloping hers as he pushes in and pulls out, and she knows he's holding back.

“More. Please.” She whines against his mouth and he fulfills her request, picking up his pace as he sits up, pulling her legs over his shoulders and somehow he hits deeper than he already has. She cries out again, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her moans of pleasure. He grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away and shakes his head.

“No. Wanna hear those pretty noises, bunny.” His voice is low and breathy, hips smacking against hers and her eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t relent, keeping his pace and trailing his thumb over her open lips before pressing it against her tongue. She wraps her lips around it, pulling it further into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. He groans, the image of her on her knees and taking him down her throat on his mind.

“Nobody but me, Grace. Nobody can fuck you like I do.” He says between gritted teeth and she looks up at him with round eyes, his thumb pulling her jaw open and she whines. “You’re mine.” She nods.

“Yours. Only yours.” She says between breaths. His movements begin to falter at her willingness to comply with his words.

“Fuck.” he curses under his breath, letting her legs fall from his shoulder and bending over her as he drives into her. She clenches around him, willing him to come inside her again, craving the feeling it left her with. “Such a good girl.” He mutters against the valley between her breasts. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe up to her neck and pulling her skin between his teeth. His hand comes between their bodies and he presses his thumb against her already sensitive bud. Her hips buck against his hand, and he rubs small circles with light pressure.

“One more, bunny. Need you to give me one more. Know you can.” His movements grow sloppy and her eyes squeeze shut and pleasure sends her brain into a frenzy. The coil snaps and she’s a mess of whining and moaning his name over and over. He follows her as she squeezes around him, his cock twitching as he releases and he holds himself up on wobbly arms.

They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath and he strokes his thumb over her temple and pushes her hair away from her face. She smiles at him, dazed from the high she’s still coming down from. Their hearts pound in synchrony behind their ribs and he pulls out of her, leaving her feeling empty.

He rolls onto his back beside her, pulling her to his side and holding her for a moment, something he didn’t get to do after the first time, and it was something he thought about every day since then, wanting to shower her with affection afterwards. He nudges her forehead with his nose and he brings his lips to plant a light kiss on the bridge of her nose.

“Only you, Grace.” He says and she smiles. “Only you.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry #styles #fic #harry styles x fmc #harry styles smut #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #harry styles blurbs #harry edward styles #agent!fmc #agent!harry #little bunny #only you

[whorekneecentral]

Merry Ruff-Mas

Mick Schumacher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angie loves trouble, angie also runs away from home, panicked mick, queen corinna cameo, snow storms, kind strangers but also stranger danger cause wtf lmao, mentions of death, finger sucking, rushed sex, dom!mick for a second there, praise kink, choking, creampie, penetrative sex (p in v), gina's a bit sus of mick at the end.

Word Count: 2,257

Author's Note: it's not a mick fic without miss angie so of course this one had to be based around her.

merry smutmas series

--

Angie goes missing the day before Christmas and Mick finds her at the neighbouring ranch, wrapped up with ribbon and bows. 

Mick had headed to the stables and Angie followed close behind him as he double checked to make sure that everything was in place for the night.

Angie follows Mick make foot to foot, she was his little furry shadow.

So when he didn't hear her little pants and her paws patting on the concrete, he just assumed she ran back to the house. He locks the doors to the stable and finds his way back to the house, do you know who sat on the couch watching TV when Mick came in.

"Where's Angie?" He asks, about to take off his boots. Gina glances over her shoulder at her brother. "What do you mean where's Angie? Didn't she go to the stables with you?"

"Yeah," Mick says, looking around. "I thought she ran back here."

"No," Gina shakes her head, "she's not in here. It's just me, unless she ran up to mom and dad's room."

Mick goes running down the hallway to his parents' room. "Is Angie in here?" He sticks his head in and his mother looks up from her book.

"No sweetheart, she's not."

It finally hit him that she's outside somewhere, in the freezing cold. Before Gina could ask him where he's going, he goes running out the house. He shouts her name, tumbling through the snow. There's a giant flashlight in hand as he makes his way around the property, following a trail left behind by her bouncing in the snow.

Mick finds himself at the edge of the Schumacher ranch, squeezing through the hole in the fence and onto the neighbouring property.

A few more feet and he sees a light in the not so far distance; a house with the lights on.

The least he can do is ask, right? There was no harm in that.

A knock on the door, Mick brushes the snow off his coat as he waits, hands shoved in his pocket. A young woman opens the door, smiling at him. "Hi." She says, a warm smile on her face, a thick blanket tossed wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hi," Mick can't help the smile on his face, momentarily forgetting why he was at her door. "I uh.. I was looking for my dog, Angie. She ran off."

"Oh," you say, "you're in luck, I found a sweet puppy on my porch not too long ago." You pat your leg a few times, the puppy running from around the corner.

The man at your door dropped down onto his knees, raw dog jumping on the man; clearly they knew each other.

"I take it this is Angie?" you asked, the man nods, smiling at you as Angie runs back into the house.

"C'mere Angie!" He calls after her but she ignores him, returning to the spot she had previously occupied.

You laughed, looking out into the snow to see your car in the driveway and nothing else. "Did you.. walk here?"

"Yeah."

"I can give you a ride back if you'd like?"

"Oh you don't need to do that," the man smiles, and you shrug. "It's the least I can do, plus Angie seems to have made herself comfortable." She had curled up by the fireplace and fallen asleep.

You stepped to the side, a gust of cold breeze hitting you. "Why don't you come in for some tea or something? I'll give you two a ride home when the wind dies down."

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"Oh please, I'm inviting you in." You nod towards the hallway and who was Mick to deny such a pretty lady ?

He steps in, leaving his wet boots and coat by the front door before following you to the kitchen. Mick looks around as he trailed behind you, the house decorated like something out of a movie; big tree by the fireplace, garland and lights wrapped in every spot it could be, even the throw pillows on the couch were Christmas themed.

"Tea or coffee?" You asked, breaking his thought. "Oh uh.. tea please." He leans on the counter, watching as you move around the kitchen.

"Thank you for taking her in, I know she's a bit troublesome. I hope she didn't disrupt your evening too much."

You wave him off, flipping the switch to set the kettle on boil. "It's no problem at all, she's an angel. She was on her best behaviour." You took a mug out of the cupboard and dropped a tea bag in it. "I heard the noise outside and I figured I should check what it was. Angie's little coat was stuck in the fence and she was tugging to get loose by the time I got to her. It did rip, unfortunately."

Mick shrugs, "that's fine, really." You hum, reaching for the sugar from the cabinet in front of you. "Are you here alone?" He asks, realizing that he's yet to see anyone else.

You'd be lying if you said your danger radar didn't go off at that moment but it was a harmless question, wasn't it? Not like you had some stranger in your house with his dog.

"Uh yeah," you turned to face him, taking in his features; blonde hair tucked under his hat, bright blue eyes, his cheeks were chubby but not overly chunky, proof that he was healthy but ate well you suppose, not to mention the award winning smile he had.

There was something about him that was so charming and so familiar about him but you couldn't place it. Then again, he was a stranger in your home, all alone, in the middle of the night.

"My siblings are in the city with their partners and our parents passed away so it's just me."

"Oh," Mick trails off for a moment, "I'm sorry to hear that."

You shrug him off, "it's okay. That's life, what can you do?"

The silence fills the room, the kettle whistles and you turn it off, filling the mug with the teabag in it. You leave it steep, turning your attention back to the man in your kitchen.

"I think I have a blanket that you can wrap Angie in."

"It's no big deal, I promise. That's not the first coat she's ripped," he chuckles, making you smile. "Come with me," you nodded, walking towards the steps and up you went.

Mick's footsteps are quiet, following a foot behind when you open the guest bedroom, leaning down to haul a box out of the closet.

He sat on the floor with you as you went through the stack of blankets that you've pulled out of the box. "Take whichever you want," you tell him, flipping through the stack yourself. He hums, watching as you flip through them and picks out a pink one with little butterflies on it.

You smiled, giggling. "That's uh.. that's my baby blanket."

Mick opens his mouth, "oh! Sorry!" He says, about to put it back into the stack but you stop him.

"It's fine, I haven't used it in years."

He shakes his head, reaching around you to wrap the blanket over your shoulders, "it's still yours," he whispers, leaned into you.

Your faces were all but an inch apart, Mick's lips ghosting over yours. It was you that closed the gap between the two of you and it was like a switch flipped.

A fight for dominance, the two of you on the floor all over each other.

"I don't usually do this," you mumbled, your lips on his as you felt Mick's hands slip under your top.

He hums, "me either." His eyes fixed on the red lace that covers your tits. Mick leans forward, kissing along your collarbones and down to your tits, you were so distracted by the feeling that you missed him pulling your pants down, leaving you in just your panties.

He smiles, standing up. You shift, now on your knees in front of him, hands resting on your thighs as you look up at him. He leans down and kisses you, his knuckles brushing the underside of your chin when he looks at you, kissing you once more. 

Mick grabs your chin, tilting your head back as you look up at him. 

His index fingers taps your cheek lightly and you open your mouth, “hm such a good girl.” He squeezes your face slightly before he slips his thumb into your mouth. 

He crouches down in front of you, eyes fixed on you and watching your every move; the way your own eyes study him or perhaps the way your lips wrap around his thumb, the feeling of your tongue on his finger. 

“Bet you wish that was my cock, hm? Bet you'd look pretty with it in your mouth.” 

He smiles at the way your eyes widen at his filthy words.

It was a few moments later that he pulled his finger away, kissing you once more; sloppy and messy before he pushed you to lay down for a moment.

He sits on the floor, his back against the bed frame when he pulls you down onto his lap. He kisses you, tapping your hip softly so you’d lift off him a bit before he lines himself up with you and you sink down onto him. The two of you let out a sigh at the same time; Mick feeling you clench around him and you feeling him stretch you out. 

"Relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing along your thigh. “Take it so well, angel.” He mumbles against your lips before his hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing against the soft flesh causing a little whimper to slip past your lips. 

His ocean eyes fixed on you; chest heaving, the thin layer of sweat across your soft skin made it glisten under the white light of the living room, your hand wrapped around his wrist.

His hand finally moving from your neck, letting you take a deep breath; the air burning your lungs. 

A hand wanders down your chest, fingers brushing over your nipples before moving down your torso to your clit. He presses down, rubbing slow circles.

You fall flat against him, your arms wrap over his shoulders, his hand resting on your lower back as he bounced you up and down on his lap. 

His hand slips between the two of you once again, rubbing slow circles on your clit until he feels you clench around him again. 

“Oh- fuck,” you breathe, your hand gripping his arm as he leans into you. 

“I know, I know - I'm right here.” He whispers to you, his hand moving in time with his hips. 

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and he watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Mick follows behind you. 

It takes you two a moment to register all of it, you're still leaning on him when you speak. "I meant it," you say.

"What?" He leans back, looking at you.

"I don't usually do this."

Mick laughs, "I believe you, me either."

The barking from downstairs gets your attention, it seems Angie had woken up and seen everyone had disappeared. The two of you manage to get separated and dressed, heading back down to the puppy waiting on you.

Mick had picked up a green blanket from the stack in the room. "Shall I drive you two home now?" You asked and Mick nodded, "if it's not too much trouble."

You smiled, the three of you piling into your car, Angie in the back seat with her head sticking between the two of you while you drove with Mick's directions. You knew the place, the Schumacher Ranch - that's why his face seemed familiar.

The car came to a stop in front of the house. "If you ever want some company over the holidays, call me. I’ll come by or you can come over." Mick says and you smile, nodding.

"You know, I didn't even catch your name. I don't even think I asked." you giggled and Mick smiled, realizing that he didn't know yours either.

"I'm Mick," he extends his hand out to you. As one does, you take his hand, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Mick. I'm y/n."

He pulls you by the hand, kissing you once more for the night. Angie pokes herself between the two of you, you laugh and reach over to rub her side. "No more running off hm?"

Mick gets out of the car, helping Angie out before leaning into the car from the opened window. "Thank you again.. for everything. I'll see you around, y/n."

"I'll see you around, Mick." You smiled, waving to him and Angie as they went up the steps to the door.

Gina was sitting on the couch next to the window when they came in. "Gosh, I thought you died out there. I was about to send out the search party." She tells her little brother, rubbing Angie's side as the dog jumps onto the couch with her.

Mick laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Was that y/n I saw outside? From next door? I didn't know you knew her." Gina raises an eyebrow.

Mick waves off his sister, "she found Angie and invited me in for a cup of tea." He tells her, smiling to himself when he remembers the cup of tea left on the counter - what had happened was way better than tea.

---

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#merry smutmas xoxo #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

[bingbongsupremacy]

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

#fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us