One installer. Every essential fix, mod, and tool for The Sims 2, set up for you in a few clicks.
I got tired of hunting down the same "must-have" fixes every time I reinstalled The Sims 2 (to the point where it has kept me from playing), so I made a tool that does it for you! 🥳 You choose the fixes, mods, and tools you want, click through, and it installs them all — with automatic backups and a built-in undo, so nothing is permanent and nothing gets lost.
It works with both the 2025 Legacy Collection (Steam and EA App) and the older Ultimate Collection.
⚠️ One heads-up: I only own Legacy (on Steam) and the Ultimate Collection, so I haven't been able to test the EA App or Epic versions of the Legacy Collection myself. They should work, but if you run into any issues on those, please let me know and I'll push out a fix!
Most importantly, none of this content is mine. Every fix, mod, and tool belongs to the creators who made them — I only automate installing them. Full credits and links are in the guide that comes with it. Please go support these people 💜
⬇️ Download: SFS | GitHub
📋 Want to see exactly what's included first? Here's the full list of every mod, fix, and tool, with credits: https://github.com/familyfunds/sims2-essentials-setup-tool/blob/main/GUIDE.md
More details under the cut 👇
What is it?
The Sims 2 Essentials Setup Tool is a single Windows installer (.exe file). Instead of downloading, unzipping, and hand-placing dozens of separate fixes, you run one program, choose what you want from a checklist, and it puts everything in the right place for you.
There are three quick presets so you don't have to think too hard:
Recommended — the sensible default set.
Complete — everything.
Custom — start from a blank slate and pick only what you want.
What's included
Everything here is curated to work together and this isn't a random pile of downloads. I checked every package against the others for conflicts (comparing the actual game resources each one touches), dropped or swapped anything that clashed, and set the load order in the few cases where two mods needed to coexist. So you can tick things freely without worrying that two fixes will quietly fight each other.
Over 140 hand-picked fixes and mods, grouped into:
Anti-corruption & core — the safety-critical stuff that keeps your neighborhoods healthy.
Bug fixes — dozens of fixes for Maxis bugs, from memory issues to gameplay glitches.
Helpful gameplay mods — quality-of-life tweaks that just make the game nicer to play.
Essential tools & systems:
CEP (Color Enable Package) — downloaded straight from MTS at install, see the note below
The Scriptorium
Radiance Lighting System 2.5
GunMod's Camera Mod 3.1
Rugs off-grid
TS2 Extender 0.8.1 (fixes only, optional extras off by default)
Objects.package corruption protection
Missing content restore (you supply your own Ultimate Collection or disc files — EA content is NOT bundled):
Restore IKEA Home Stuff (works on both Steam and EA/Epic — it sets up whichever your game needs)
Restore Missing Music
Missing Holiday Items
Neighborhood setup: clean/empty stealth 'hoods, or fully disable them, plus the MATY no-townie-regen mods.
Startup cheats: 45° object rotation and quarter-tile placement.
Third-party tools: SimPE, Mootilda's HoodChecker / LotAdjuster / Sims2Pack Clean Installer, and Body Shop for the Legacy Collection.
Backups & undo
This is the part I care about most: before the tool changes or replaces any file, it backs up your original first (to C:\ProgramData\The Sims 2 Essentials Setup Tool\backups). To undo anything, just run the tool again and choose Undo — you get a checklist and can roll back everything or only certain pieces. It does not add itself to "Add or remove programs"; it stays fully self-contained.
Requirements
Windows (I tested and created this on Windows 11)
The Sims 2 Legacy Collection (2025) or Ultimate Collection
For the "Missing" content (IKEA / Music / Holiday), your own UC or disc files
How to use it
First, a friendly nudge: back up your Sims 2 "Documents" folder. The tool shouldn't touch your saves, neighborhoods, or downloads — and it automatically backs up anything it does change — but it's always better safe than sorry. Just copy your Documents\EA Games\The Sims 2… folder somewhere safe before you start. (Besides… when was the last time you backed up your saves? 😉)
Download the .exe. It's unsigned (normal for community tools), so if Windows SmartScreen pops up, click More info → Run anyway.
Right-click the .exe and choose "Run as administrator" — it needs admin rights because it writes into your game folder.
Pick your edition, confirm your Documents folder, tick what you want, and click through.
That's it. To undo later, run it again and choose Undo.
A note on CEP
CEP isn't bundled in the installer — Numenor asks that it only be hosted on Mod The Sims. So if you tick it, the tool downloads it directly from MTS at install time. None of Numenor's files are redistributed here. That does mean CEP is the one thing you can't install while offline — but everything else in the tool works completely fine with no internet connection.
Credits & terms
Genuinely, all of the credit goes to the creators — Numenor, LazyDuchess, GunMod & the Radiance team, HugeLunatic, Mootilda, cyjon, Pescado & MATY, TwoJeffs, Nopke, simler90, LordDarcy, MidgeTheTree, hiloyt, CroconawSims, and so many more. The full list with links is in the included guide.
While I've reviewed everyone's terms of use in detail to make sure I wasn't breaking any rules, I'm only human and I could have missed (or misinterpreted) something. If one of your mods or tools is included in this installer and you'd like me to remove it, please shoot me a message and I'm happy to do so.
The tool itself is free and open-source — you're more than welcome to review every file and exactly what it does on GitHub. It's not affiliated with EA or with any of the creators above.
Missing something? Suggestions welcome
Think I've left out a crucial bug fix or a genuinely helpful mod? Send it my way. If the creator's terms of use allow it, I'm happy to look into adding it.
A quick heads-up on my philosophy, though: I originally built this for myself, and I like my game as close to vanilla as possible. So mods that change gameplay in a big way, or add features that were never in the base game to begin with, generally aren't ones I'll bundle. This isn't meant to be an "everything" list, but I'm always glad to consider suggestions, so don't be shy about sharing what you'd love to see!
author’s note: my deepest apologies for how long this took. life be lifing. i'd read this one carefully. certain things are revealed and/or inferred indirectly.
pairing: roman reigns x black!oc x jey uso
warnings: angst. strong themes regarding infidelity, domestic violence, and death. psychological elements. some scenes may be triggering and difficult to read. reader discretion is strongly advised.
words: 5k+
song inspo: ❝ somewhere only we know❞ by keane
credit: photos from pinterest and google images. fic and chapter title graphics by me. mdni divider by @strangergraphics
previous + masterlist + taglist request form
Heaven feigns a loud sigh and blows out a dramatic breath, making the curls spilling over her face to fly forward before tossing down against her cheek. She pushes back a tendril and tucks it behind her ear. Shrugging and another feigned exhale accompany the way she looks at her nails. Short, almond, painted the perfect shade of white that matches the loose dress with flowy sleeves, a cinched waist, and brushes the top of her knees.
“I guess I won’t be able to find her…”
Her intentional announcement is accompanied by the way she carefully, slowly, and methodically takes step by step, the blades of forest green grass tickling the portion of skin exposed on her feet from her sandals. “I can’t believe she really beat me….” Continuing to lean into the performance, it’s only when she catches the the glimpse of an arm with a complexion several shades lighter than the tree she hides behind that Heaven makes her grand reveal.
“There she is!”
The shout comes seconds after Heaven jumps forward and attempts to grab her. Happy, loud giggles as she breaks free from Heaven’s loose hold and starts to run away. Her little legs only taking her so far before Heaven grabs her again, this time the two of them falling into the ground.
The pasture absorbs their bodies like a memory foam pillow, molding around the curves of Heaven’s body as the little girl lays on top of her and continues to laugh happily from the way Heaven playfully tickles.
“You found me!”
“I did,” Heaven’s smile deepens, her eyes narrowing from the fleeting glimpses of sun that rains down on her, peaking through the head of dark curls every time she writhes and wiggles from the tickle session.
It’s when she rolls over, however, and Heaven can feel the full strength of the sun that her smile settles, her shoulders sink deeper into the grass, and her eyes shut. There aren’t enough words to adequately describe the level of…peace she feels in this moment. The sun is bright but the heat is almost nonexistent. The aroma of fresh flowers that don’t crush under her weight but instead bow almost in reverence around their bodies. Faint whistles and swishing sounds of the wind brushing against the most beautiful example of God’s finest work that Heaven has ever seen.
Never an outside person, there’s nothing that she can list off as a con for the space that feels less like a pasture and more like a safe haven.
Rolls and valleys of endless greenery and forestry. There’s an aura that feels almost too good to be real. Like it contains and conveys a level of peace that defies and contrasts reality and what exists in the realm of capabilities.
Heaven feels so….light.
She feels free.
The sort of free that one prays for but rarely ever achieves.
At least….not in this life.
The laughter once more draws her focus as mischief flashes in her pretty eyes before she jumps up and starts to run off once more. Heaven’s smile deepens as she too sits up and starts to give chase when she stops. Turns her head just enough to where the breeze brushes past her hair, whipping it against her face as her brows start to cave inward and the smile falters.
Something…..
Something’s not right.
She continues to turn around, the peace that encompassed is now one that unsettles. It’s all so perfect. Too perfect.
And then she hears it. Hears the sound that makes her entire body still and toes dig into the ground that suddenly feels impossibly softer than before. As if it's adapted. As if it’s molding itself to her feet to keep her planted when her knees begin to wobble and balance falters.
Giggles.
That of a child. A little girl.
And not the one a few feet away.
“Macy…”
Heaven turns around, eyes foraging the vast plains as if trying to seek out the voice. Seek her.
She starts to step forward when a small tug on her dress forces her to turn around. Heaven looks down to see the little girl staring up at her with that same gaze of excitement and with that happy smile that reveals a top and bottom row of small, perfectly straight, white teeth. Impossibly white, almost.
A recurring theme of this place, it seems.
Impossibility.
Releasing the fabric, she instead makes a beckoning motion with her fingers before reaching for Heaven’s hand, all five wrapping around and giving a light squeeze.
It’s a grasp that the older woman allows, but it’s the extent of permission granted as Heaven plants her feet in the ground. The crumble of the young girl’s smile evokes a heavy lump in the back of Heaven's throat and births a weight that sits on her chest. Anchors her body down both physically and metaphorically, as she drops to her knees, hands to the child’s shoulders.
She swallows, feeling that familiar burning sensation that’s intensified by the way the sun beams down on her. “You are an amazing little girl, sweetie.” Words that comes from a place she can’t identify, but it’s a place that feels familiar. Natural. Innate. “But I know another amazing little girl, and she needs me. She—she needs me more than you do.”
And Heaven needs her. Perhaps more than the other way around.
It’s a realization spurned simply from the sound of her daughter’s laughter. One of the best sounds in the world, and one that she can’t push from her head. Hears on repeat at a volume that feels like it only knows increase.
But the space reserved for her sweet Macy is shared with concern for this girl in front of her who reminds her so much of her daughter. Heaven expects the disappointment that flashes in her eyes, but it’s when she briefly breaks away that the guilt forms.
“Honey—”
Heaven stops when she realizes the girl isn’t going far. Just quickly scuffles a few feet away to a strip of flowers and picks two before quietly returning to Heaven who observes them with marvel and curiosity. It’s such a strange variation of which she’s never seen before. A crossbreed of roses and tulips.
One pink and one blue.
But the curiosity travels when the girl reaches with her free hand and pushes past the swell of the material to touch Heaven’s stomach. It’s a touch that makes her gasp from the memory that instantly slams into her.
The baby…
For the first time since awaking in this sort of paradise, dread begins to seep in. But it’s momentarily paused when she watches the girl’s smile revive as she lifts her eyes to meet Heaven’s and offers the flowers that are easily and naturally accepted. Even as the confusion remains.
“I don’t….” She stumbles. “I don’t und—”
Her small fingers rubbing gently against Heaven’s belly as she drops her eyes once more before lifting them and nodding happily. But once more, another unexpected act when the child lunges forward and hugs her.
Heaven’s shoulders instantly relax, the flowers still gripped in her hand as she returns the embrace. She closes her eyes, another wave of ardent emotion overtaking her. A sense of despondency and regret.
Like she doesn’t want to do this.
Like she doesn’t want to leave.
Like she doesn’t want to leave this little girl. Because leaving her almost feels like….it feels like she’s leaving Macy.
But she’s not. She’s leaving her because of Macy.
So why does it feel like there isn’t much of a difference?
If any.
“It’s okay.” Heaven gasps as the child breaks her silence. Her small voice, light and pure, sounding and reminding her so much of Macy. “And it’s okay you didn’t keep me. I know you wanted to.” The quietest intake of breath is followed by the way Heaven's eyes shoot open, electricity dancing up her spine. Her fingers both somehow tingling and numb concurrently.
What….what did she just say?
The little girl presses her body closer, as if wanting to mold the two of them together, to soak in and capture this moment as much as she possibly can.
To never forget.
“Bye, mommy.”
——————
A multitude of senses are triggered almost immediately and simultaneously, but the first thing that Heaven can detect in this new realm of consciousness are the sounds. A variety of them, most of which are sounded out by a consistent, regulated beep that’s both familiar and disconcerting. That discomfort is exacerbated by the way she struggles to open her eyes, several flutters and focused efforts needed to lift and maintain. An uphill battle similar to that of pushing a large boulder up the steep heel of setbacks but one she overcomes and largely because of the new sound that’s added to her immediate environment.
“Heaven?”
Another familiar sound that's partially drowned out in the midst of Heaven also becoming more aware of her surrounding. The sounds. The sterile, non-existent smell in the room. The heaviness of her body and cool, foreign sensations up and down her arms. A throbbing one near her right shoulder. She manages a deep breath through her still closed mouth when the view of the still slightly blurred television is replaced with a set of eyes similar to her own.
Her mom’s.
“Oh, thank God.” Heaven groans lowly as her mother reaches to caress the top of her head, watery eyes locked on her. “My beautiful girl.”
Blinking several times over, Heaven continues to work to reach the point where she can communicate, but the grogginess is consistent and persistent. Awareness intermittent, to a certain extent. Enough to where she hears and sees the way her mother briefly turns her head and calls for a nurse before she’s focused on her daughter once more. “Heaven, do you know where you are?”
Heaven offers a small nod, and it might be the easiest thing she’s done. A hospital. She’s in a hospital.
But why?
And because Shelia Jackson is nothing short of sharp—if not psychic—she reads the question that doesn’t even need to be asked.
“Honey….” Heaven observes the subtle motion in the middle of her mother’s neck, a small bulge forming and disappearing. A swallow. A deep one. “You were attacked—”
Perhaps additional words follow the word ‘attacked,’ but it’s all incoherent mush that’s barely audible amidst the rush of memories that slam into Heaven with enough force to send her back if she wasn’t already lying down.
The fire.
Macy.
Jey.
The hotel.
Roman.
Macy.
Whatever time has passed since her entire world began to crumble before her very eyes is suddenly filled with horrifying remembrance of what initially brought her to the hospital.
And she doesn’t mean her own admission.
“Macy,” Heaven croaks, a sting in the back of her throat as she forces herself to speak for what must be the first time in—how long has she been asleep? “Where—where’s Macy?”
An attempt to sit up brings about a sharp, sudden pain in her shoulder as Shelia drops her hand to Heaven’s forearm.
“Careful, baby. You—” She stops, Heaven’s furrowed brows lifting to meet her mother’s eyes once more. “You were shot.”
Once more, a stillness that halts her movements and attempted efforts at answers. Heaven….remembers it. Remembers being at the hotel, at hearing a knock at the door, expecting to see the woman in front of her on the other side.
It wasn’t.
It was someone else she thought she knew. Someone she thought she loved. And maybe she did. But whatever love existed for the man she’s spent the better part of her life with died the moment he left her baby inside that burning building.
And once more, Heaven casts aside any thoughts and considerations for herself. She can work through that later.
She needs to get to her daughter.
She needs to get to Macy.
Heaven attempts to snatch her arm away from her mom, ignoring the stinging sensation of the IV in her arm shifting from the sudden movements. Shelia presses her lips together as Heaven continues to find her voice. “Where’s Macy?”
Shelia opens her mouth, her own sympathetic expression unchanging when rushed footsteps draws the focus of both mother and daughter. Shelia straightens as Heaven remains steadfast in her efforts to, one, get up, and two, get up to find her daughter. Regardless of the nurses and doctor moving towards her.
The doctor, an older man with a balding head and crows eyes but a seemingly genuine disposition, steps closer. His voice calm and soothing. “Mrs. Uso—”
“I want to see my daughter,” she interrupts, uncaring of feigning pleasantries for the sake of it. Being nice and displaying manners is the last fucking thing on her mind. “Where—”
An additional set of hands and the feeling of being surrounded and overwhelmed heighten Heaven’s anxiety, as words and fragmented sentences continue to float in and out.
“….bullet missed the heart and lungs….”
“………significant blood loss…..”
“……hemorrhagic shock……”
“………..emergency surgery….....”
“……,…babies are stable….....”
“……..two days……”
All of it is relevant information, of that, Heaven is certain, but it’s the last portion of shared information that sticks with her and answers just one of her many questions. One that is near the top of the importance list.
“Two days?” She breathes, realizing only then on top of administering information as the nurses inspected her, he was also asking her a set of basic questions she’d apparently answered in the midst of growing internal panic. “I—I’ve been out for two days?”
Shelia, standing closely, hand on the railing of the hospital bed, opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by her daughter once more as another realization returns to Heaven.
“Macy….we—we’re supposed—supposed to know—” She shakes her head, ignoring the rising level of physical pain and discomfort in her body and face as certain facial motions evoke a stinging, throbbing sensation in her cheek. “Where’s Macy!”
Because Heaven remembers. Recalls the conversation with Macy’s medical team. If she’s been unconscious for two days now, then that means it’s either time or close to the time where they should have a better understanding of Macy’s status.
If she sustained any brain damage.
And if so….how severe.
Determination and resilience sometimes result in success, as is the case when Heaven finally manages to sway the doctor. Her mother’s cosign in the form of a whispered statement to the doctor also being a helpful additive. If the situation were different, Heaven would perhaps press on what was said, but it’s inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.
The only thing that Heaven cares about, the only thing that matters, is seeing her baby girl.
That’s it.
It’s what remains the constant in the back, front, and all over her mind as she’s helped out of the bed and into a wheelchair that’s brought in a few minutes later. The journey from her room to the pediatric ward of the ICU includes the accompanying of her mother, two nurses, one who pushes her in the wheelchair and the other who guides the IV pole. Assisted ambulation eventually guiding Heaven to her destination.
Energy shifts the minute she’s wheeled into the room as if making way and place for her arrival. Dread rebuilds and returns with a startling vengeance as the discomfort that’s floated through her body in a variety of ways since her return to consciousness is no longer germane in place of a greater calamity. The room, roughly the same size as the one she was excerpted from, suddenly feels so much smaller with the congregation of bodies. White coats. Scrubs. Machines galore making the same sounds she awoke to. All surrounding the bed to where the only thing she can make out is the thin, white sheets, faint outline of short legs, and slightly elevated feet. Hushed whispers and a set of eyes that land on her, wearing a variety of expressions. But it’s two in particular that capture her focus longer than the rest, that briefly distract her from attempts to obtain a better view of her baby.
“Heaven….”
Roman is the first to speak, Nathan only a few feet away, but Heaven locks gazes with the elder of the two, and her stomach twists into an abundance of knots. Flashes of their last interaction—the hotel, Jey, the gun—once more another flood of memories. Ones that she briefly remembered when she came to but shoved aside for the sake of her child. But only a few feet away from the man whose last statements to her were ones of disgust and hurt is another story. She can’t look way nor can she ignore how…..tired exhausted he looks. Deep, dark bags under his eyes. Frizzy hair lazily pulled back unlike the neat but he’s always ensured to perfect before leaving the house. Even his attire, the wrinkled fabric of his shirt and sweat pants, visibly thrown on in haste and with little regard for appearance, it’s so….unlike him. But it makes all the sense.
He’s exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Truth be told, Heaven wouldn’t be surprised if he’s simply a reflection of herself with marginal differences.
Roman steps forward as Heaven squeezes her mom’s hand and holds onto the nurses forearm with her other hand while they help her to her feet. He gaze flicks between the two of them, unspoken communication as she naturally reaches for him, fingers snapping around his forearm. She swallows, an array of words needing to be spoken, truthful, honest communication never having a more appropriate time to be had. But once more, it’s a necessity that must be shoved to the back burner.
Her eyes water as he lifts one hand to her face that Heaven is almost certain must be slightly swollen, on top of bruised, given the flashes of intermittent pain that accompany her speech. “Macy…”
He mimics her motion, a prominent bulge and disappearance in the middle of his neck. “They’re about to wean her sedation to see….”
His inability to continue is all the answer she needs.
Heaven can’t allow herself to think about the reason why for his difficulty in completing his answer.
She motions with her chin towards the bed where Macy lays, offering a small smile to her nephew who simply returns the gesture with a small nod and a flash of regret in his warm eyes. Heaven recalls her last interaction with him, too, and mentally adds him to the list of people she needs to speak with.
Just one of many. But as Roman assists her to Macy’s bedside, her mom and the nurse guiding her IV pole close behind, the emotion that was already brewing reaches its boiling point.
A sharp intake of breath when she looks down at her baby girl, eyes closed, face still scuffed up, arm still wrapped, far too many wires connected to her. Far too many medical personnel surrounding her. She shouldn’t be here. In this bed. In this sterile room. In this situation.
This should have never happened.
“Mrs.—”
“Heaven,” she corrects, hand trembling as she reaches to stroke Macy’s cheek before flitting her gaze to the doctor. “It’s just Heaven.”
He nods before offering a gentle explanation as to the steps seconds away from commencing. Similair to what Roman said, just verbalized in a mixture of medical and regular terminology. But it’s when the actions are initiated that Heaven’s chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself. Seconds that feel as if they’re being stretched into hours. Announcement of each task accompanied by Heaven’s grip on Roman’s forearm tightening, her eyes, as well as his, never once leaving Macy’s peaceful expression.
They’re paralyzed and frozen in time waiting and watching with a shared level of trepidation mingled in with burning hope.
Because in that moment, it’s all they have.
“Macy,” Heaven whispers, stomach clenching as she works to find her voice. It doesn’t matter that Macy’s hair, pulled back and tucked under her head, reveal the absence of her hearing aids. Heaven isn’t speaking to Macy for her to hear. She’s speaking to Macy for her to feel. “Baby, you gotta wake up. Mommy…mommy and daddy are here waiting for you.” Though her focus is on her child, her eyesight doesn’t need to be set on the man beside her to know that he has a visible reaction to her words. Barely an hour out of her own sedation, Heaven also doesn’t need to have regained control of all her faculties to know that this is the first time she’s ever openly referred to him as such.
As Macy’s father.
She continues, ignoring the pain from her shoulder as she bends over, the arm of the bed digging into her stomach. “I came back for you, May May.” Her voice cracks. “Now I need you to come back for me.”
Another reaction to poignant words, from both her lover and mother, are lost in the sea of irrelevance at the sight of something. Subtle. So so subtle and minimal that Heaven is partially surprised she can make it out through her blurred vision. And for a moment, she questions herself. Questions if her desire is overpowering her sense.
And then it happens again.
That same motion with increased visibility that’s caught by others as well, Roman’s deep voice whispering from beside her.
“Macy?”
Once more, voices are drowned out as Heaven feels the weight in her stomach dropping and caving when visible progression results into fluttering. Macy’s eyes begin to flutter, each motion evoking sounds from around but none more than her parents who stand her bedside.
“Macy?” Heaven cries and watches as her little girls eyelids fully lift and remain open, granting the room with a set of soft brown eyes that haven’t been seen in almost three days. Heaven has to grip Roman’s arm once more to keep from fainting. The shock of her awaking temporarily halts what would be the most logical next step for her parents as the doctor says something that's lost in the midst of endless relief.
Her lips press together, lines creasing in her forward, the faintest hint of a scowl similar to that of when she’s awoken premature from a nap. Confused. She looks confused, and understandably so.
But as a nurse begins to sign what would be the start of a basic line of questioning, Macy’s eyes instead flick to the left where her teary eyed parents stand beside her overcome with joy.
Joy so overwhelming that Heaven can barely make out what Roman says as he shifts just enough to lean over and kiss Macy’s forehead. But it doesn’t stop her, nor him, from following the length of Macy’s non injured arm as her fingers flex. Similar, small baby steps that lead up to the way she lifts her arms just enough to sign with her hands. Slow, laggard movements, tension in her fingers from days of non-movement causing her to take longer than usual, but the result is so so worth it.
Mommy
Another heartfelt sob erupts from Heaven’s mouth right as Macy’s eyes shift to the left, to Roman, and her fingers makes a different motion. Her fingers move a smidge quicker than before.
Daddy
Heaven places her hand over her heart, issuing an abundance of silent prayers as the tension of the room immediately melts away to make way for immense gratitude. If not for the vast amount of relief felt at Macy awake and coherent, perhaps Heaven would have focused more on it. Sensed the swell of emotion from beside her at Macy's acknowledgement.
The acknoweldgment of her father.
Her real father.
But it’s the final signing she does that allow humor to mingle in with gratefulness.
Cookie.
Only then as several of the adults in room break into light laughter does Heaven start to tune back into the conversations at hand. The nurse who was signing with Macy cracks a small, meaningful smile. She talks while signing. “I definitely think we can see about getting you some cookies, sweetie.”
At that, Roman clears his throat, still caressing the top of Macy’s head as Heaven reaches for her hand. “No. It’s….it’s her stuffed animal.”
“She doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Heaven finishes. Nathan and her mother move closer, attempting to interact with Macy whose hands have returned to her side, her expression unchanged. But the mere fact that Heaven is looking into her baby girl’s open eyes instead of them closed and indicating an outcome from the worst sort of nightmare is more than enough for her.
The doctor begins to task the nurse with signing a set of basic questions for Macy, most of which, Heaven is sure, is standard protocol. Most likely to gauge her level of awareness, though her being able to identify her parents is more than enough for Heaven.
Macy simply being awake is more than enough for Heaven.
With everything transpiring, the array of voices filling the room that’s suddenly far less morose than when she initially entered, Heaven is moderately surprised when she overhears a set of footsteps. Perhaps it’s the almost rushed pace, or maybe it’s the lingering essence of always being daddy’s little girl that has her turn around to see her father enter. But it’s the way he stands closer to the door, away from Macy’s bedside and how he beckons over her mother that gives Heaven pause. Especially when she watches the way her mother’s smile dips and transitions into a confused frown as she walks over.
Her attention is especially secured when her father angles his and Shelia’s body away, not once seeming to pay attention to the fact that Macy, his only grandchild, is awake. Ignoring her is one thing, but Macy?
Concern spikes, however, when, even without seeing their faces, Heaven can infer from their tense postures that something….something is wrong.
That nagging, uncomfortable feeling dancing up her spine as she speaks up. “What is it?”
And the feeling intensifies when her parents turn to her and cook up the quickest, most insincere “nothing” that she shoots down immediately. “What is it?”
Shelia presses her lips together. “Heaven.”
“Tell me.”
Heaven doesn’t intend to raise her voice as much as she does. She especially doesn’t intend to snatch away the focus from Macy via Nathan and Roman’s confused expressions, but Macy’s lack of her hearing aids leave her oblivious to the conversation at hand.
Thus, Heaven pushing once more. Something in the base of her stomach tells her that she needs to. That she can’t and shouldn’t accept whatever excuse or lie her parents want to feed her for the sake of avoiding whatever fallout the truth may carry with it.
That’s what caused all this mess in the first place.
But the truth that’s disclosed is a truth she could have never anticipated.
“They found him,” her father answers. “They found Jey.”
Something about hearing his name sends chills up Heaven’s spine. Evokes a myriad emotions. Anger dominating them all. But the anger is shoved aside in favor of clarification. “What—what do you mean they found him?”
Heaven remembers Jey attacking her. Recalls the struggle for the gun. Everything after that is nothing more than a blank page, but in her mind, Jey should be locked up somewhere. He attacked her. Tried to kill her. Almost killed her daughter.
He should be buried under that damn jail.
“He went on the run after….” Shelia trails off, her husband taking her hand as he offers a small nod.
“They located him though. Received an anonymous tip,” he continues. The pause, however, increases Heaven’s anxiety. The omission of what she would guess is a key piece of information having her press once more.
“What—”
“He was shot, Heaven,” he finally answers, voice void of any emotions and the concern in his eyes undoubtedly reserved for her and Macy. But primarily her and having to share such jarring news. “They found him unconscious. Beaten and shot. He’s apparently in critical condition. It doesn't look good. They don’t think he's going to—”
She’s unsure if it’s the way she turns her head away, staring at the ground, working to process the information, that makes her father pause in his explanation. Most likely. It’s certainly not from being choked up or holding any ounce of remorse or grief.
Jey’s sins are far too great and grave for her to extend any sort of compassion. Empathy has limitations, and Jey reached his the moment he left her daughter in their burning home. Perhaps the shock of what occurred has her in a state of emotional paralysis, but him attacking her, trying to kill her, isn’t even what drives her fury with him. It’s Macy. His crimes against Macy are unforgivable.
Though lack of empathy doesn’t deprive her brain from springing out several thoughts, most of which circle around a single word.
Who.
Who attacked Jey?
It’s an unasked question, however, that still has little to no emotion attached to it.
Nothing that Heaven actually feels. Truth be told, she’s not exactly sure what she feels. At least not until she happens to look behind her, wanting to ensure that Macy, though not physically possible, has not overheard news Heaven hasn’t the slightest idea how she’s going to break to her sweet little girl.
Especially if….
But it’s halted when two other expressions snag her focus.
Roman and Nathan. Twins in so many different ways, their personalities and dispositions almost identical. The first few seconds reveal brief, minor distinctions that, if not for how well she knows both father and son, she could have easily missed. The subtle tick of Roman’s jaw and motion of his bushy brows, weary eyes flashing with something unidentifiable. Similarly, there’s a discreet rise and fall of Nathan's shoulders followed by his mouth shifting before his expression lands in the same place as his father’s. Identical, nonchalant, calm, stoic look on their faces. And while she certainly wouldn’t expect either to emote any sort of despair or sorrow, it’s the lack of something she would expect to see that makes her still.
Shock.
They don’t….they don’t look shocked.
Not even a little.
And there’s something unsettling about that for completely different reason. Something that has her stomach in knots and spurns widespread disquiet. “What—“
An interrupted, unasked question lost in the midst of another sound inserted into the commotion of the room, voices layered over one another, but that consternated tone overpowering the rest.
“Macy?”
Her daughter’s name being called is what forces Heaven to return her focus to her child, the sight of which immediately makes her stomach churn.
“Macy.”
Macy doesn’t respond though, and her silence isn’t due to the lack of her hearing aids and thus inability to hear. It’s because of the sudden, jerking motions of her body as medical staff swarm around her right as several of the machines connected to her baby start alarming loudly and frantic, some slow and intermittent, some speedily and with urgency that matches that of the team around her.
“She’s seizing.”
“Her oxygen is dropping.”
“She’s coding.”
“Clear the room now!”
All sentences that whip past Heaven as she attempts to close the distance between her and her innocent baby, the view completely obscured by scrubs and a white coat. Arms and hands moving and reaching with purpose and necessity, some of which, however, serve as barriers.
“Macy!”
It’s an out-of-body experience, the heartfelt sound of her baby’s name ripped from her mouth. From Roman’s. Both of them being restrained and forced away from a scene neither can look away from. Their efforts valiant and without respite, even as Heaven feels the sharp pain of the IV ripping out from her arm what with her desperate flailing and swinging of her arms against the nurses holding her back. Her and Roman's voice nothing but heartbreaking echoes of the deepest sort of terror as they scream for their child.
“MACY!”
And similar to the same sight that haunted her that night, as she once more poured every ounce of energy in her body to get to her daughter, Heaven. continues to push. As does Roman. They continue to fight and resist. Tenacity undeterred as the cacophony of noise is usurped by a single, continuous, uninterrupted sound.
Depending on your sim's mood, the sleep pose could change from arm under pillow (Happy, Embarrassed, Sad, Shy, Silly, Bored, Depressed) to arms stretched out (Passionate, Dazed, Furious, Flirty, Angry) They can do the same sleep pose if their moods are similar.
DO NOT use this if your sim uses those beds where the blanket doesn't cover your sim. You will be horrified.
Sleeping Animation by Zlostudio: Sleeping Pack
Arm Under Pillow Pose by @herecirmsims: Sleeping Ugly Pose Pack
✨Pillow Talk Override ✨
I really liked this kiss animation by Igor_Santos_Adonai, so cozy after a steamy night. And also Cuddles On The Couch By d'Violet, cute and comforting after giving up the goods.
*Its not perfect but I tried my best with overriding this*😭 (Vid shows both animations)
🚨Take out any other pillow talk mod mod you have if you wish to see theses animations🚨
Sul sul! Inspired by the new layering feature in The Sims 4, this set includes 16 brand new items designed to expand your outfit possibilities. Mix and match long-sleeve tops, t-shirts, shirts, and fitted basics under your favorite pieces to create unique looks. With 30 swatches for each item, there are plenty of options to customize your Sims' wardrobe. Hope you enjoy!
This is a small quality-of-life mod that lets you freely adjust objects in The Sims 4.
Instead of being limited to the normal object size options, this mod adds a simple Adjust menu when clicking on objects, giving you more control over how things look in your builds.
Perfect for decorating, clutter placement, screenshots, and making objects fit exactly how you want them to.
What it does:
♥ Adds a new Adjust pie menu when clicking objects
♥ Scale objects up or down using a slider
♥ Adjust object height using a slider
♥ Includes fine adjustment options for smaller changes
♥ Normal and fine sliders use the object’s current position/scale allowing you to repeatedly keep adjusting however you like
Earth & Stone is a high design bathroom set built around raw stone: black lava, white limestone, and warmer earthy tones that feel pulled straight from the ground. The kind of bathroom that looks like it belongs in a boutique hotel but somehow also in the middle of a rainforest.
Heavy stone meets lush greenery. Sharp lines meet organic texture. High end plumbing meets the kind of luxury clutter that makes a space feel lived in. This will be perfect for rich sims, architects or designers. Hope you'll like it 💖
Description
This set is basegame compatible and includes 30 maxis match new items
Plumbing: Bathtub, shower, toilet, sink and double tile sink.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒𑁤 mari's wedding night is something she always dreamed about. dreamed and prayed would be something special. and sharing said wedding night with her best friend and now husband, joe, is nothing short of special personified. but turns out there's a few things she didn't know about her husband. or rather one specific thing. one big, specific thing.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𑁤 18+. mdni. some sexy time. angst(?). fluff. but mostly usual mari being mari, and joe being joe who's just used to mari being mari.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒𑁤 four thousand and some change (4k+)
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𑁤 joe anoa'i (roman reigns) x black!oc
𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𑁤 photos and roman gif from google, pinterest, and instagram. sza gif by @/totalsellout. neon divider by @/dividers-are-us. i saved the dividers for the photo set but now can't find where i got them from, so if you know, please let me know so i can credit properly!
𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𑁤 ❝let's get it on❞ by marvin gaye
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𑁤 this has been asked about a lot and in honor of big ears and my sister wife, @sayyestoheav3nn, birthday, i had to finally make it happen.
“Okay, well five minutes plus another five minutes then!”
Joe runs his hand over his face and blinks a couple times before reaching for his phone to scroll through Instagram for what must be the 8th time over the past forty-five minutes. The same amount of time his now wife has been holed up in that damn bathroom. He understands fully that this night means a lot to her, and it should. It’s her wedding night.
Their wedding night.
The first night they’ll spend together as husband and wife and consummate their marriage. His first time with her, and her first time, period. Outside of knowing Mariella, arguably, better than most, he knows for women in general that this milestone carries a lot of weight.
Rightfully so.
But the fact that it’s been almost an hour since he showered and exited the bathroom wearing only his boxers, Mariella rushing past him and locking the door so she could “get ready” and her still not being ready is reaching a point beyond understandable.
Shit, at this rate, it’s going to be time for them to check out.
He’s tried to keep himself busy outside of being on his phone, something that’s never really been his thing in the first place. Observed and studied every inch of the suite her parents paid for as one of their wedding “gifts.” Both he and Ri in agreement that when finances are better, they’ll go on an actual honeymoon.
God, he can’t wait to give her that.
Grabbed the remote and turned on the TV as he shifted up the bed, leaning into the headboard while he watched some random ass show that only held his attention for a few minutes. Hell, he even grabbed the bible out the nightstand drawer and flipped the pages to the verse the pastor cited shortly before officially announcing them man and wife.
“What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”
But a good chunk of the time was eaten up by the uncharacteristic presence of anxiety. To say Joe is sexually experienced would be an understatement. He’s certainly gotten around in his almost thirty years on this earth. He knows exactly what he's doing between those sheets.
But never has he actually been intimate with someone that he loves. That he’s in love with. That he’s wanted nothing more than to make happy in all the ways possible.
This is Ri.
His Ri.
His wife.
Beyond that, there’s the pressure of being the one to take her virginity. If someone told him five years ago that that would be something she’d bestow and trust him—of all people—with, he’d never in a million years believe them.
Mariella has always been immensely special to him. His desire to protect and keep her safe from any and all bad things has been present since they were kids. Sparked largely by her naivety and innocence. And it’s only increased exponentially since they transitioned from friends to lovers and now husband and wife.
He knows better than anyone her trauma when it comes to relationships. Of spending so long wanting to find and be in love, to ever feel even ready or wanting enough to share such a sacred level of intimacy with another man.
Joe just can’t believe he ended up being that man.
His oath to love, protect, and take care of her will extend to the end of time—and then some.
And it all starts tonight.
“Okay!” Her shout from the other side of the door drags his attention away from lingering trepidation. “I—I think I’m ready.”
Joe clicks the lock button on this phone, waiting until it shuts off entirely, before he reaches and places it on the nightstand.
He won’t be needing it.
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm,” she sings, making him crack a small smile. She’s always so fucking theatrical.
He rolls his shoulder, reaching to let his hair down, already knowing that’s her preference despite also knowing he’ll need to tie it back before the night is over. Can’t have it in the way when he finally makes his way between her thick ass thighs to taste that pretty ass pussy. “So why don’t you bring your fine ass out then so I can see you?”
He plans to do a hell of a lot more than just see, but one thing at a time.
Joe snaps the hair tie against his wrist and rubs the tip of his nose with his thumb before a new sound fills the otherwise silent hotel room.
Music.
Because Ri wouldn’t be Ri if she didn’t have some sort of music to accompany what he knows for her is probably one of the biggest moments of her life thus far.
If not thee biggest.
A familiar, classic tune that makes all the sense, but it’s when the door is pushed open with loud, excessive force in conjunction with the three guitar notes at the beginning of Let’s Get In On by Marvin Gaye that makes his smile widen.
For several reasons.
Mari stands in the doorway, arms spread, palms planted on the jambs as she slowly twirls them thick ass hips of her. His eyes drink in the sight of her. The white, lace two piece lingerie set that leaves little to the imagination, her fat pussy lips almost swallowing the thin material to the point where it’s barely visible. He can only imagine what her ass looks like from the back. The top isn’t much better. Joe can make out the outline of her dark, pebbled nipples, her breast lifted and shoved together. Her stunning brown skin carries a glow that exceeds the usual as well as shimmer across her chest making her complexion glimmer and sparkle. Her hair that he knows she sacrificed a damn near whole day at the salon to get washed, blown out, and silk pressed for their wedding is down and brushes past her shoulders and chest.
But despite the salivating worthy sight of so much of that fine ass body on full display for him, it’s the smile on her bare face and the way she playfully twirls around that does something to him. Sometimes he envies her. How she goes through life with such unwavering optimism and light. There are no bad days with her.
Just happy days.
Some of his best.
He leans over, eyes darkening and voice lowering. “Come here.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, of course, taking her sweet time to continue to whine and tease him with the hypnotic view of her twirling hips. But the minute she’s close enough, he yanks her onto his lap. Joe’s eyes shut as he breathes in the scent of her. There’s no doubt in his mind that she tastes just as good as she always smells.
Mariella brings her hands to his shoulders and gestures down to her lingerie set. “You like it?”
“You know I do,” he answers. His hands smooth down her back, thumb fiddling with her bra strap as he kisses her shoulder. “It’s a shame I’m gonna end up ripping it off you in about five minutes.”
“Joseph Leati Anoa’i, you better not!” She gasps as he nestles his nose in the crook of her neck, eyes closing once more from the feel of her so close to him. Nothing is better than being with her. Nothing. “This is my wedding night lingerie. I won’t have you desecrate what will be a collectors item.”
“Fine. Whatever you want,” he agrees. He knows when to pick and choose his battles with her. Joe places another tender kiss to her jaw, his hands moving to her waist as he focuses on her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She whispers, batting her lashes, voice dipping suggestively. “Now, I believe it’s time for us to do the nasty.”
“Hmm.” He travels his gaze over her, hiking her up higher on his lap. “How nasty you trying to get, Mariella?”
She shakes her head, grasping at his jaw while he continues to roam every inch of her, as if trying to mark the territory he plans to explore fully and thoroughly throughout the night.
And for the rest of his life.
“It’s Ri.” She dips her head, ghosting her lips over his, her voice a soft, teasing whisper. “Mrs. Anoa’i, if you’re nasty.”
The speed in which he kisses her is inhuman. Joe fully recognizes that there’s very little easing into things. It's evident in the way he kisses her with hunger, desire, and desperation that’s grown with each passing day as their wedding date grew closer.
It took him a while to accept that he no longer saw his now wife as his adopted little sister. That she certainly wasn’t the little girl who always tagged along with him and BJ. That she was a grown woman. A grown woman with nice ass titties he’s currently palming in his big hands and a nice round ass he’s visualized more than once bouncing off his dick while he gives her backshots, her kinky coils fisted in his hand as he talks her through it.
Yes, finally freeing himself from unnecessary shackles of roles no longer relevant has definitely made this buildup something worth looking forward to. Mariella slowly grinding against him prompts him to growl against her mouth when he flips them so that she’s flat against the mattress, his big body hovering over hers.
And the sight is something to behold.
Never has he seen someone as beautiful as Mariella.
Their next kiss is slow, tender, her hands on his cheeks as her lips stretch into a bashful smile.
“No one has ever looked at my the way you do.”
Something thumps in his chest.
He lowers his head, forehead pressed against hers. “And no one else ever will.”
Joe has always been a man of his word, and regardless of it being traditional, pre-written vows cited in front of close friends and family, he meant every word.
Till death to them part.
“Baby,” she murmurs against his mouth after a few minutes of continued making out. That borderline unbearable discomfort from his growing erection further fueling his desire to make his way down her body and in between her soft thighs. Her fingers intertwined in the back of his head, gently caressing his scalp. “Move your leg.” She pouts as he kisses the corner of her soft ass lips. “It’s poking me.”
Joe stills for a moment, breaking their kiss to look down between their conjoined bodies.
He chuckles. Resumes kissing her and groping her breast, thumb playing with her nipple through the thin lace of her top. “That’s not my leg, baby.”
Mariella frowns into their kiss as he shifts his mouth to her cheek and jawline when she tilts her head down. “Well then what….” Joe is about to drag his mouth to her chest, salivating at the thought of freeing her breast from that pesky ass top when she gasps. “What the—” His efforts are completely stopped, however, when he feels her fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers. “Oh my God!”
Mariella’s hands lift to his chest as she pushes him off of her and quickly scampers to the edge of her bed, sitting on her knees. “Joe Bear!” He sits up on his elbows to see her eyes as wide as saucers. “Did you use the hotel soap? I told you it was bad for you! You should have listened to me because now you’re having an allergic reaction!”
Joe frowns and does his best to ignore the way his cock throbs at the sight of her titties dangerously close to spilling out her top. He was so close. “What?”
He sits up as she climbs off the bed and starts rushing over to the bathroom. “Come on. Throw something on. We’ve gotta go to the ER!” She stops, holding his pants and looking up with an expression of wonder. “I wonder if Patricia is working tonight.”
He closes his eyes. The way she’s on a first name basis with the fucking staff at the ER is both insane and yet makes all the sense in the world. If the hospital had a reward system, her ass would be a VIP member.
Lifelong.
“Put these on!” She shouts, tossing his dress pants at him as he sits up and hisses at the discomfort of his neglected erection. Mari comes to stand in front of him to grab his hand, “and don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand when they put the needle in your dick to make the swelling go down. I promise.”
It’s when she says that, however, that Joe just knows this is about to be a fucking mess.
Mariella frowns and looks at their still conjoined hands when she tries to turn away, but he tightens his grip, keeping her standing before him.
Her gaze on him reflects the sense of urgency present in her voice. “Joe Bear, you gotta hurry up. If we wait too long, they might have to amputate it!”
“Ri.” This damn girl and her fucking over the top, irrational ass beliefs. “We don’t need to go to the ER.”
Her eyes widen as she yanks her hand away. “What do you mean we don’t have to go? Joe, you’re having an allergi—”
“Mariella,” he cuts through, already knowing that his rare use of her full name will shut her up. For now, at least. “I’m not having an allergic reaction. It’s just an erection.”
She blinks twice, sticking her neck out just enough to accompany the way she nods to herself. Or him. One can never really tell with her. “An engorged erection because of the allergic reaction.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he curses. “Ri. This is just me. I don’t know what the fuck to tell you.”
“Language,” she chides. He rolls his eyes as she leans back and eyes him skeptically. “What do you mean it’s just you?”
“I mean, it’s just me,” he repeats. Joe runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a big dick. I don’t know what else to tell—”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupts. He watches the way she shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at him like he suddenly just grew another head. Granted, in her eyes, maybe he did. “What do you mean that’s just you?” Opening his mouth is a waste of time as she points to his lap, dick still just as hard as it was five minutes ago. Just as painful, too. “You mean to tell me that’s normal for you?”
He looks from side to side, answering like it’s the simplest fucking thing in the world. “Yes.”
She must stare at him for a good thirty seconds before moving closer to him once more, fingers reaching for the waistband of his boxers. Joe shakes his head as she almost cautiously angles her head just enough so she can catch a peek. And the minute she does, the loudest gap emits from her mouth as she jumps back like she’s just been burnt.
“What the hell is that, Joe?” If her eyes were wide before, they’re damn near about to explore out of her head now, as she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Why is your penis so big?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time tonight. And here it goes.
She’s pacing across the floor in front of him, talking to either himself, herself, or maybe both.
“Dicks are not supposed to look like that, okay?” He leans back on his palms as she turns to direct her next statement directly to him, her voice jumping an octave or two, as it normally does when she spirals like this. “They only look like that in porn, and even then it’s probably prosthetics and photoshop!”
He frowns. “How do you photoshop a video?”
Naturally, she ignores his question and instead issues her own ridiculous ass question. “Are you absolutely sure that’s normal? Like maybe you need to see a specialist!”
“Pretty sure I don’t.”
An athlete all of his life, Joe has had his fair share of doctor’s appointments, check-ups, physicals, and everything under the sun. If no medical professional has ever said anything to him, he’s pretty sure that he’s fine, and Ri is just being…..Ri.
She gasps, looking away as if breaking the fourth wall. “We’re going to have to have a sexless marriage.”
“Ri—”
“We’ll have to adopt an adorable little baby who has a complexion closer to mine and ears as big as yours to make sure no one ever suspects the truth.” Another loud, sharp gasp makes him cut his eyes to the ceiling as hers land on him. “We’ll have to get a surrogate.”
“Ri, you’re acting ridiculous right now.”
“You know what’s ridiculous?” She marches up to him, angrily gesturing to his crotch. “You thinking you’re putting that—that thing anywhere near me let alone in me!”
He sits up and hunches over, erection gradually settling as time passes, as if recognizing space and time is needed to accommodate her spazzing. “What did you think you were feeling when we would makeout before?”
Because Lord knows there have been at least a few occasions when things got heated between them to the point where he felt like he was going to explode in his pants. And most of the time she was straddling his lap so how she hadn’t felt something prior to now that indicated he was on the bigger side is beyond him.
“I don’t know!” She throws her hands up. “Certainly not dickzilla!” Joe follows the back of her, attempting to not focus too much on the jiggle of her ass when she walks over to grab one of the complimentary water bottles off the coffee table. Unnecessary huffing sounds accompanying her shuffling back over to him. “Joseph, my brother-husband in Christ, you don’t understand. I can barely stick a Super Plus tampon up there without blinking back tears.” She lifts up the water bottle and points to the cap. “My vagina is like this.” He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, doing his best to not show just how utterly ridiculous he finds this whole thing. She then flips the bottle and gestures to the bottom of said bottle. “Your dick is like this!” She throws it to the side as she opens his mouth to scold her as it bumps against the table and rolls away near the TV. “Do you see the dilemma? It’s not gonna fit.”
“Are you done?”
And he knows she’s nearing the tail end of the climax with this whole episode when she starts to whine and stomp. “I’m gonna end up on Sex Sent Me to the ER.”
“Oh my God, come here.” Joe reaches for her arm and tugs her between his spread legs as he sits at the edge of the bed. He eases his hands down to her waist while she continues to pout and frown, looking down at the floor. “Mariella, we don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not ready.”
His honest reassurance must take her by surprise. She lifts her eyes to his, mouth set into a frown as she blinks several times. Like she's trying to take in what he just said. “but...but it’s our wedding night…”
“And?” Joe shakes his head and pulls her even closer as she settles her hands on his shoulders. “Ri, I didn’t marry you just so we can have sex. I love you, and I respect this is a big step for you. Just because you’re my wife doesn’t mean you have to force yourself into doing something you’re not ready for.”
Perhaps he should have made that clearer ahead of time, but Joe was honestly under the impression that she knew he would wait for her as long as she needed. It’s a strange sort of space to be in for someone who primarily dated women in the past solely because of their ability to match his high sex drive. And Lord knows he desires Ri in every way imaginable, has gotten himself off countless times at the thought of fucking her. But his love for her will always outweigh everything else, so wherever her comfort zone is, is where he’ll meet and hold her hand until she’s ready to progress further.
“It’s not—” She interrupts, shaking her head. “I want this, Joe. I’m ready. I am, I promise. I just.” He kisses her inner wrist, again inhaling the alluring scent of whatever body oil she’d used right as she takes a deep breath. “I can do this.” Her hands shift to his face as she kisses him, his own hands dropping to her ass, giving a gentle squeeze. She smiles against him, pulling back and biting down on her bottom lip. “I just need to warm up.”
He frowns. “Warm up?”
Mariella turns and rushes to the bathroom where Joe realizes the music was still playing—Sexual Healing—the sound most likely obscured and faded out by her mini panic attack.
“Ri, what are you—”
He closes his eyes.
This damn girl.
Joe releases yet another heavy sigh as the music transitions from one classic to another, the latter, however, being the wildest shit he’s heard in some time.
Eye of the Tiger
But it’s a short lived time as he watches Ri stand in front of the mirror, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet as he’s done himself a few times over the years.
When trying to get into game mode.
“I can do this,” she says to herself, nodding and rolling her shoulders. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
“Mariella.” If she doesn’t turn that damn music off and come get in the bed so they can just go to sleep. “Turn off—”
“Not now, Joe Bear, I’m training!”
“Training for wh—”
Another question interrupted when she switches to another song.
The familiar opening of the Rocky theme song as she transitions to pretending she’s boxing, bouncing from side to side with the fucking sound effects of her huffing and puffing like she’s on the brink of an asthma attack.
And knowing her ass, she probably is.
“Ri, if you don’t sit your ass down before you get us kicked out this damn hotel.” It’s a miracle no one’s knocked at the door—or wall—yet from her loud ass music and unnecessary dancing.
“Halfway through, hubby!”
Halfway?
“I’m going to bed,” he mutters, standing up and moving to pull back the blankets when she rushes into the bedroom, phone in hand.
“Not yet! I’m almost ready.” Joe stands with his arms crossed as she messes around with her phone before yet another song is added to this whole unnecessary ass scene.
And the minute “Everybody dance now” screeches into the room, he’s back to peeling back the blankets while she starts to do lateral lunges in the middle of the damn floor followed by quick, rapid squats with awful ass form.
“Gotta get loose,” she pants, transitioning to doing the running man. It’s only then that he simply shakes his head and smiles, running his hand over his face. The whole thing is actually comical as fuck, and mostly because she’s 100% serious right now.
This is just….this is his Ri.
“I’m about to turn the light off.”
“No!”
Her shout is followed by her—when the fuck did she even switch to the Macarena?—running and jumping on the bed. Quickly moving to all fours, her ass up in the air, as she looks over at him. “I’m ready.”
If not for the hilarious, dramatic way she says 'ready,' he’s certain his dick would have jerked from the way she wagged her ass.
He keeps his focus on her as he dips one knee into the mattress that groans under the weight of his addition. “Ri…”
“Oh shoot, wrong position.” She sucks her teeth and Joe continues to observe with confusion as she drops to her stomach and instead rolls onto her back. Confusion that quickly morphs into returned exasperation when she lifts her legs in the air, holding them up by her ankles, making strained noises followed by an out of breath. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
And while he was previously ready to go to bed, his eyes flicking towards her legs make his jaw clench at the sight of her pussy lips having been completely swallowed the thong. That desire revived and sensation of tightness in his boxers returning.
Only Ri could make him bounce back and forth between disbelief, humor, and now lust in a span of five minutes.
Her hold over him is diabolical.
“Wait!”
Except the screeching of the tape sounds when she goes to untangle herself from the position, making an “oof” sound when she accidentally rolls over off the bed and onto the floor from the other side. Joe starts to round said bed to check on her when she lifts her hand with a thumbs up. “I’m okay!”
Joe tilts his head back and rolls his shoulders.
On second thought, maybe they should just call it a night.
“Joe Bear,” she huffs, climbing back onto the bed. “Grab your phone.”
He blows out a breath, shifting so that his hands are on his hips. “For what, Ri?”
She groans loudly and throws up her hands, sitting on her knees. “So I can record my last will and testament.”
“Ri.”
“And whatever you do, do not let that lil’ colorist Alexandra Shipp play me in the biopic. Keke will do just fine.”
“Mariella.”
a/n : before anyone asks, yes, they did end up consummating their marriage that night. yes, mariella's dramatic ass absolutely made joe push her out in a wheelchair the next morning. and yes, she blasted 'i just had sex' by lonely island on the drive back to their apartment.
she also may have played it on repeat when they got home and said she was on "bed rest" for the next three days.
author's note: as with the last several times, if you not tryna cry or be upset with me, just go on and skip this.
no tags at all, cause i ain’t tryna traumatize anyone for the 09582955th time.
words: 1.8k
warnings: angst
The overwhelming citrus scent is the first thing to hit him. The thing that makes Rashad blink several times and his nose crinkle from the mere strength of it all. Enough to warrant him to lift and wipe the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. Clean and sterile. Their cherrywood flooring shines and glimmers under the natural lighting and through the daylight that beams in via the adjacent windows.
Windows, he’s certain, have also been recently cleaned.
Again.
But it’s all irrelevant as Rashad immediately makes his way towards the spiral staircase. Two steps at a time, down the long hallway that leads to the bedroom at the end of said hall. Double doors with glass stained windows that he closes behind him only to be met with another figure standing across the room.
RJ turns around from where he stands by the closed door of the bathroom connected to his parents master bedroom.
“Dad.”
Rashad lifts his chin, shoulders dropping slightly at the concerned expression on his son’s face. Much like himself and….him, RJ has never been an overly open person when it comes to emotions. Rarely does he show what’s simmering and brewing beneath the surface, but there’s no denying nor missing the tension that floats throughout the bedroom.
He gestures with one thumb behind him and shakes his head. “I’ve been trying to get her to come out, but she won—”
“I know,” Rashad interrupts. His voice is gentle, weighed down with the reminder that their eldest son’s failure to succeed is nothing more than an extension of his own. Rashad, too, has been trying with no such luck.
RJ shakes his head, and it’s only then that Rashad realizes his attire—basketball shorts, sneakers, and a sleeveless dri-fit shirt—indicate that he was most likely on his way to workout and train with Tavita.
Until…
“I had to open up the windows,” he continues. “The smell was so strong.”
“I get it.” Truly. Because as intense as the overwhelming fumes were when he stepped foot inside their 10,000 sq. ft., mansion, he can only imagine what RJ was exposed to. “Thank you.” Rashad clears his throat. “Imma need you and Raelynn to take your brothers and sisters—”
“Already on it,” RJ interrupts, offering a small, sad smile. “Rae is picking them up, and we’re gonna take them to go see abuela.”
Rashad nods. “Good.” One less thing he has to worry about. Not to mention it'll be good for Solana. As per his last conversation with April, she hasn't been doing very well either. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, dad.” RJ argues. The sides—empathy and compassion—traits inherited from his mother and abuela, never shining so bright. “Just help her.”
Rashad swallows.
That’s the plan.
With his eldest out the room and most likely heading out the house, Rashad makes his way over to the door that he’s certain has remained shut for much longer than his son realizes. He wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been hours. Hours that she’s refused to leave.
He pauses only briefly before lifting his hand and issuing two gentle knocks. “Baby….it’s me.”
An opening that’s always greeted him with the most beautiful smile, warmest hug, and almost nervous peck on the lips is traded for silence. He tries his best to focus on any familiar nose. Slightly heavy breathing. Scrubbing against a solid surface. Water running.
He hears nothing.
“Leya,” he repeats and knocks again. “Honey, I need you to open the door.” Once more, silence that stings and lingers. That makes that thickness in the back of his throat intensify with every passing second of no change. “Cataleya. Please, baby.”
Still, instead of the kind, soft voice of his equally kind and gentle wife, the silence continues to host him with unending cruelty and mockery.
Rashad curses lowly before making his way over to the dresser and grabbing the straightened paper clip he’d bended and created just this morning. To say he didn’t see this coming would be a lie. He knew it was. He just didn’t want it to. But all his wanting has done nothing more than delay the inevitable.
This was always going to happen, one way or another.
It’s what floats through his mind as he uses the makeshift tool to do what he hasn’t had to do in ages.
He picks the lock.
But the minute he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t. Wishes he’d never forced his way inside their large master bathroom and slowly pushed opened the door the door to reveal a sight that makes his stomach twist and the paper clip in hand to topple down onto the natural marble.
“Leya….”
She’s sitting on the floor, back against the the cabinets, hair full of highlighted curls obscuring her face but not the view of her hands, arms, and legs. Red, raw, skin peeling from eczema that’s no doubt been exacerbated by her obsessive cleaning over the past two weeks. A closer look even reveals small, red rivulets of blood that trickle from her knuckles.
Christ, she broke the skin.
Rashad has been doing his best to remind her to use the medicated cream from the dermatologist she’s had since before he even met her. When she was younger and her OCD, according to both Leya and her family, was significantly worse than it was when they first met as teenagers. He’d seen episodes here and there, especially after RJ was born.
But nothing like he’s witnessed over the past two weeks.
Nothing but nonstop, excessive, repeated cleaning. Floors mopped five times a day. Windows scrubbed until she has to take Tylenol to alleviate the soreness in her arms. At least three to four trips to Walmart to restock cleaning supplies that would normally last them a few months only to barely make it past the week before the recycle bin is filled with bottles drained down to the last drop.
Rashad has even had to physically force Leya out of the shower, her skin reddened and shriveled. Layers of sweat across her forehead and body with the mirrors fogged beyond the point of visibility. Her OCD is completely out of control and has been ever since….
He swallows and starts to make his way over to her. “Leya….”
Still, she says nothing, just continuing to tap and, he then realizes, lift the phone so that’s it hidden underneath her head of thick, full curls. Rashad gradually lowers down to one knee and reaches to tuck her hair away just as she yanks the phone down and mumbles quietly and incoherently to herself.
“Baby, what—”
“No.”
Her voice is slightly louder, distant and still murmured, but the increase in volume lets him know she’s at least aware of his presence. He’s pretty sure that singular word was directed towards him.
He brushes his thumb across her cheek, met with an unfamiliar roughness. Her usual multistep skincare routine sabotaged by the amount of washing and stripping of her skin that she’s done. Over and over again.
A repeated pattern that’s been her life since—
“He won’t pick up.”
Rashad pauses mid stroke. His frown deepens as does his confusion. “What do—”
It’s when she abruptly brings the phone back to her ear—impatient tapping of her nails against her thigh followed up with yet another rough ripping of the phone away and back into her lap is—that he decides to glance at her screen to see what she’s doing.
And his heart fucking breaks.
Rashad’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the name he’s seen light up his wife’s phone easily over a thousand times over the years. The name that’s always evoked the largest smile and giggle followed by an equally joyful greeting.
There’s not a damn thing joyful, however, about what’s next to said name.
Daddy ❤️ (115)
115.
One hundred and fifteen calls. Not missed. Not received.
Outgoing.
One hundred and fifteen outgoing calls.
Rashad truly has no idea what to say. He just knows that he’s never felt so fucking devastated on behalf of someone before in his fucking life.
He shifts his hand to the back of her head and drops to both knees. “Cataleya—”
“He won’t pick up.”
The same murmured sentence from before with an entirely different meaning.
“Baby—”
Except she’s once again tuning him out, repeating the same pattern of jabbing her finger against the screen, bringing the phone to her ear, only to quickly snatch it away only to do it all over again. A ritual. She’s clearly stuck in a ritual.
And he’s gotta break it.
He leans over and kisses her head, eyes momentarily closing as he carefully tries to reach for the phone. “Ley—“
“No,” she snaps, inching and angling her body away. “I—I have to keep trying.”
Fuck.
“Leya—”
“No!”
Her shout is a sonic boom against his attempts and slams into him, causing a brief moment of paralysis. He can’t recall a time Leya has ever spoken in such a manner and with such….determination. It’s then he realizes that there is no gentle way to go about this.
He just has to do it.
Reminding himself it’s for her own good, Rashad again kisses her temple at the same time he snatches the phone from her hand, earning another loud, uncharacteristic shout.
“No!”
“Leya.”
“Give it to me!” He lifts his arm as she attempts to pry it out of his hand, but his grip is unforgiving.
Just like her resolve.
“Cataleya, listen to me—”
“No! I need it!” Her voice is bogged down with emotion that’s growing and reflected in the way her eyes water. “I—I have to keep trying. He—he won’t pick up if I don’t!”
Rashad’s own eyes begin to gloss over as he looks down at her. “Leya…”
There’s something about either her last statement or perhaps the desperation in his voice that draws her wide eyes to his, something flashing, her jaw trembling. Realization. “He won’t—he won’t—”
Rashad gently drops the phone on the counter in favor of gently cupping her face. “Le—”
“He won’t pick up,” she gasps, loudly, breathing uneven, blurry gaze on him. “Why—why won’t he pick up?”
Rashad has never felt so fucking helpless in his entire fucking life. He just cradles and holds her as she collapses into his chest. “Why won’t he pick up?” She cries, fingers grasping at his shirt. “He always picks up.” His eyes shut as he holds the back of her head, feeling her body shake violently from the intensity of her wailing that grows by the second. “I just want to talk to him. I just—I just want to hear his voice.” A beat. "I just want to talk to my daddy."
Silent tears break the surface and stream down Rashad’s face as he clutches his wife tighter, as if the safety of his embrace can provide her with some level of comfort. But deep down, he knows it only does so much. Knows that he can only give her so much, because at the end of the day, she doesn’t want him.
She wants her dad.
She wants Roman, and that, despite Rashad forever willing to give her the sun, moon, and stars if she asked for it, is something he can never give her.
No one can.
Because Roman....Roman is never going to answer the phone again.
author’s note: this is set during the span of time that'll be skipped, as the next chapter includes a time jump....if that makes sense. also, this is 100% 18+. i started to include....pictures but opted against it because i think this is freaky enough as is.
