#Dad is a bum who avoided helping his wife

[coochiequeens]

Thus post went viral and of course no one discussed how the how the mother tried to guilt her daughter in law to attend or how the dad/granddad just stayed in the pool leavingbhis wife to handle everything.

[winkette]

Trope but IRL

You guys read those fics where Dream and The Stars just think the absolute worse of Nightmare and his team, no matter what they say or do otherwise?

I...I'm LIVING that situation right now and it's pissing me off.

contacted my dad over the holidays for help (highly unusual cuz this man has never helped me in my life before)

he agrees to give me a room in the house they dont live in at the moment, I believe this was due to his [wife] who later said she was the one hoping to "bring me home"

get here and given stipulations for everything that were worse than I had thought possible

--- (just some) expected work 40+ hours a week, have move out plan by February, all money is to go to an account I can't access, provide me a phone under a contract, then had me sign the agreement in the event we need to go to court.

Monday they told me I needed to have 4 interviews set up by Friday; told them that wasn't possible in 1 week, they doubled down

I decided I was going to move to the homeless shelter from here, and they immediately equated it to Me. Trying to. Avoid. Working.

Nothing I showed them or did would prove them that I wasn't some lazy bum doing everything I can to avoid working. So they treated me like they needed a short leash and kept reminding me that their 'support' could be taken away if I didn't meet their expectations.

I have Never been able to talk to my dad, cuz he asserts his opinions and then ends the conversation. I have Always been made to feel like I was 'unworthy' or 'stupid' with him. I had thought maybe we could talk while I was here. No. This man's world has shrunk since the last time I've seen him. He lives in his own little reality and none of his kids can get him to see that.

He once told me that "kids are stupid and don't know anything" but apparently his view carries on forever, regardless of the fact he has 5 adult kids.

[robzombies-hotwife]

Ramblings about religion, spiritual philosophy, miracles, and life and death.

I am not a religious woman. I was raised Catholic until I was 15, and I still culturally feel connected with many human aspects of it, but I don't believe in a god up in heaven with all his angels and the souls of the saved (with the devil down below with the damned) and his son made flesh and condemned to save humanity. I'm not sure if I believe in an afterlife at all, but I definitely don't think that living humans are meant to know the details if the afterlife actually exists.

So, I don't believe in all that. I've always kinda thought of life in terms of the energy of the universe that I came to call The Pulse, named that after the Fiona Apple lyric "I know when I go, all my particles will disband and disperse and I'll be back in the pulse." This universal energy is cyclical and flows in and out of livings as they live and die. It's yours to borrow for a while, then it flows back out again and into a new organism. Whether any of that energy stays "you" and goes to an afterlife I cannot say. I think there are forces in the universe beyond our understanding and that move in unknowable ways.

I think I believe in miracles? Well, I don't know if I should call them miracles, but it's the closest concept for what I'm thinking. When I think of miracles, it's not exactly divine intervention or a human granted temporary divine power. It's as simple as this: sometimes, the unknowable forces of the universe and that cycle of energy align and unexpectedly save a life that should've been lost by all logical explanation.

I was saved from certain death by one of these universal miracles. I don't know how I know this, but I understand deep in my bones that the accident should've killed me that night. It was a set-up so perfect that I'd call it a cliché if it happened in a movie. I'd spent the whole day with my family. When my sister and I were chilling in the blow-up pool, she'd commented on my hitting rock bottom due to my long job search and I just laughed and said I'd hit lower points in my life and that I hadn't lost hope that my situation was temporary. I talked to my mom a lot about the future and she said she was confident that things would look up for me, but that I always had help and a place in the family home if needed. I talked a lot about how things were going with theatre and about how excited I was for the upcoming season. I remember feeling bummed that my younger brother had party plans with friends that day/night and I only got to see him for a few minutes, and I attributed it at the time to just missing hanging out with him, but now I kind of feel like that was destined to be the last time I ever saw him. That evening, we had a campfire (something I've always liked) for the first time in years. My older brother, who I rarely see or talk to, stayed much later into the night than normal and I talked to him quite a bit as we each drank a glass of wine. Even my dad stayed up really late that night to hang out, unusual since he typically goes to bed at 8 pm. From a short distance from the fire, alone on the swingset, I took a lot of pictures of my family on a strange urge to capture the scene of the people I love. They would've been the last images on my camera roll when my phone was found. I played with my toddler niece to get her to stop crying over having to go home, spinning her around and around until she was laughing and we collapsed into the grass to stare at the stars and fireworks.

I almost took my mother up on her offer to stay at the house overnight, which would've totally avoided the freeway accident. It was late, after all, but I had an appointment in the morning and had to go. My parents gave me a bag of food to take home and hugs, and I left my damp swimsuit hanging on their porch clothesline, figuring that I'd just pick it up the next time I came over.

I'll be back soon.

Like I said, a movie cliché. Practically a dead wife reel. For god's sake, I was even wearing a t-shirt for my favorite local band, whose concert I'd gone to only the weekend before!

Then came the accident, caused by a complete stranger's recklessness on the freeway at night. I was listening and singing along to T-Pain's cover of "War Pigs" and thinking about requesting it to be added to my favorite bar's karaoke line-up so I could sing it there sometime. Innocuous idle thoughts while I was driving that familiar route home. As my car went out of control at 80 mph, I was absolutely, 100% sure that I was going to die and the split-second before the impact happened, I learned some of the secrets that only the unquiet dead know. The movie cliché last day and the nature of the accident and that unnaturally absolute certainty in my gut all pointed to my violent early death at only 25 years old.

And then... I was alive?

I'm not being a drama queen when I say that the chances of surviving that crash at all were slim, but the chances of walking away without ICU-level injuries (and likely a permanent disability) were almost nonexistent. Though I had a seatbelt and airbag and very safe car, that hard of an impact still should've killed me. I know the driver who caused the crash only stopped because he thought I was dead. He was frozen and white as a ghost when I pulled myself from the wreckage and stumbled over to get a picture of his plates and scream at him. The other drivers who pulled over to help me and call 911 also seemed shocked that I was alive and standing and talking. The ER doctors were astounded by my survival and relatively okay body, and I trust their judgment about unsurvivable things since they see victims of those things every day. I do have permenent spine damage, but the physical therapist I'm working with says it shouldn't cause me pain or mobility issues in the future and that the damage to my body should've been much worse considering the force of impact, if I survived at all.

In short, though I'm not a religious woman, in my heart I truly believe that I experienced a universal miracle that night. Everything points to the fact that I was destined to died that night and I didn't. I don't know why, or how, or any logical reason for my survival. I spent days after unsure if I was alive or dead, and the past month trying to find any explanation for my continued life, especially considering the sudden and disturbing knowledge of the dead I gained in that split-second between life and certain death.

There is no explanation. It was a random miracle that happened via unknown forces and for unknown reasons. All I know is that my time was up and then it wasn't and now I'm left trying to come to terms with all of that.

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

��Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Y'all thought you'd finally gotten a break from hearing about my real life woes?

Shit's been going down!

Last time I wrote anything it was about being out of money and nowhere to stay. We got a donation, it helped us a lot, and coupled with the ladies at the front desk of the hotel keeping this room at $65 a night for us, we've managed to extend our stay.

The problem:

Step-dad got the knee surgery. He had to get a bunch of 'fragments' removed from his leg, and a few other things, but overall not much work was done. He still needs a total knee replacement. He was whining about his pain for days and refused to wear the brace thing they gave him which has compartments for gel packets.

A few days ago he called his son like he does every damn night, to bug him about shit, and found out he was working on a house with one of step-dad's former employers. A guy who notoriously doesn't pay people, never does things over the table, and spends his days on the go so cops can't track down a specific location of his. Dude lies through his teeth.

Suddenly, step-dad is able-bodied enough to drive back up to PA and now help out on the construction of this house? Like 8 days after knee surgery? Where he claimed he couldn't walk and was in too much pain?

He's been gone for almost a week. The van is gone. We have nowhere to go, no way of know when he's coming back because he's avoiding making calls, and the occasional $20 he has his son send over every other day isn't enough to feed three people who have to order delivery from the local supermarket. Legit, it's too far for Bethy or I to walk, so we'd have to get food delivered, but there's a delivery fee, and now a gas fee because of rising gas prices. And he somehow doesn't get that?

"I gave you a total of $40 in 7 days, how can you not make it work?"

Half of that goes to paying fees and tips for the drivers! That isn't enough!

So he called this morning demanding mom cancel his upcoming appointments. The bypass and the other knee surgery he's got coming at the end of April and beginning of May. He's not coming back for who knows how long now. Had a whole list of excuses on why. Step-bro's wife has had no problem narking to mom about him on the side.

He's acting like this situation is just too stressful for him to be in and he can't take being here anymore. HE'S THE REASON WE'RE IN THIS MESS! Mom and I had a stable home for almost two decades. His big mouth is what fucked that up for us. He is continuously the reason for why we haven't had stable residence in almost 6 years.

Yet he acts like this.

And the icing on the cake! The money he's been getting is what he's bummed off his son.

The employer who never pays people and dodges cops all the time? He hasn't paid them for anything despite all the work they've apparently done on the house. And now both are making excuses for him despite how this is what the man does.

So we're stranded now. We have no guarantee of money or lodging. No way of leaving if we have to leave. He's not coming back for his doctor appointments so they have to be cancelled. I scheduled my own doctor appointment that is very needed and now that has to be cancelled. Bethy has bloodwork scheduled because they have to check for a history of cysts before they can give her some kind of medication, but that's got to be cancelled. And now none of that can happen.

If Bethy's case worker comes around again and finds out that he's not here and he's been gone with the van, off working, when he told her to her face that he can't move and therefore can't work, we're going to be in so much trouble. She spent the last 4 months bothering him about working and now he can do it? For apparently no payment?

He doesn't realize how bad it looks to be stranded with no money and no transportation when you have a state case worker watching your every move? Someone who is meant to make sure your daughter is safe in your hands and you can be trusted to keep her while you are battling homelessness?

I complain about him constantly but have always tried to maintain his few good qualities as not totally terrible and him as still better than my sperm donor as a person. Yet what can I defend in this? How are you almost 60 and this fucking dumb? It's hard for a outsider to not see this as malicious. I can't talk this down of make it seem less bad.

I'm sick of trying to make it seem less bad.

[beauregard-s]

Decision (Bill Denbrough x Reader)

Pairing: Adult!Bill Denbrough x Uris!Reader (18+)

Word Count: 6k (I am  s o r r y)

Warnings: Age gap (Bill is in his late thirties), inappropriate relationship, a lot of angst, language, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving) and some fluff

@avengxrs423 said: hi!! i absolutely loved your stans daughter(reader) x bill!! i would like to request a follow up where stan catches them!! it was one of my fav fics ever 💞

A/n: First things first, thank you so much! For your support and also for requesting this one because I really wanted to write it. The request is pretty self-explanatory, this fic comes as a part two for this headcanon. Hope you like it 🖤

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“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your voice barely came out. It was more of a fragile whisper.

He was right there. Leaning against the doorframe, a dismayed half-smile on his lips and God knew how weak your knees already were to that view alone.

“Missed me?”

Also only God knew how much guilt you saw in Bill Denbrough’s ice-blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You muttered. He gnawed on his lower lip for a second.

“Came back for you.”

-

“Taking me so good, princess. So damn good…” his voice was hoarse under the sound of rain pouring against the metal of his car and under the way you rolled your hips against his.

Little, weak moans left your lips and that was all. You were unable to talk since he first guided himself into you in that backseat, stretching you out, filling you up just perfectly. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin of your neck while he kept his face nuzzled in there, grunting against you. You held tightly onto his arms while his hands grabbed your hips, teaching you how he liked it.

“You’re gonna cum, won’t you? I can feel you clenching all around me.” He pulled back to look at your fucked-out face, smirking and panting. He looked down right at where you’re joint to him, hand dropping, middle finger tracing slow circles over your clit and making you whine.

“Just like that. Cum for me, y/n...”

-

“Bill…”

“No, please. Give me the f-fucking benefit of the doubt, y/n.”

You felt the urge to smile at the transient appearance of his stutter at the same time you wanted to throw something in his face. He was clearly nervous, knocking on your door past midnight, out of nowhere, when you were already in your sweats and ready to head to bed.

“My parents-”

“I know they aren’t home.” He cut you off. Cornered you, avoiding any excuses you had.

You breathed out, a battle in your mind because you truly didn’t know what to do with him standing there. He had dark circles that didn’t match his eyes’ color very well, in your opinion. He looked tired, bummed maybe, but still handsome like hell. Just like he looked when you last saw him, but more fidgety now.

“Let me guess, do you want to explain yourself?”

“Of course-”

“Yeah, but you don’t owe me any explanations, Bill.” You were the one cutting words off now.

His only immediate response was to sigh. “Could you at least let me in?”

You did. Stepped back and let him inside, practically slamming the door right after. You didn’t intend on putting a show, but that came along with the slow-burning anger that built up inside you. You turned on your heels to face him and couldn’t tell who looked more defensive. You and your tightly crossed arms or Bill and his hands stuffed in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them, standing right there in your living room.

He didn’t say anything at first, maybe waiting for you to yell at him or something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t because it still hurt where he left you although you hated to admit it.

You were doing good until Bill came into your house smiling kindly at you, telling you about how little you were when he last saw you. How your father would carry you around on his shoulders by that time. He was supposed to stay for a month, something about going through a very troubled divorce. In the meantime, he’d meet you late at night in the kitchen when you woke up for late snacks, talk to you in a soft voice, pay attention to you whenever you were in the same room. Too much attention. To the point where his eyes discreetly leered at you so much you’d swear you could combust anytime.

He did that until you fell apart. You, who claimed to be a very steady, hard-to-get and hard-to-trust being. Bill Denbrough hunted you down, his best friend’s only daughter, in your own house until you broke. He feasted on you in the backseat of his car, in your own room, in the shower before your parents came back home…

And you let him because you couldn’t help your heart from racing since the first time you saw him. Couldn’t help smiling whenever he talked to you. Couldn’t help leering him just like he did to you. You fell for the man faster than it’d be decent to do.

“I didn’t do it. Didn’t accept asking for the divorce dismission.” Bill said, lowly.

It’d be an outright lie if you told your heart didn’t skip a beat to his words, the frown between your brows relaxing.

“Really?” He finally smiled at the subtle soft tone of your voice.

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Then why did you leave?” You were still sharp but it didn’t keep him from maintaining that gentle smile on.

“Because your dad told me so. Stan told me it’d be better if I tried to solve the problem face-to-face.”

You shook your head slowly, remembering how your core ached the day he told you about it. How his goddamn wife called and begged for him to give up on the divorce process that she had started in the first place. Your eyes had filled up just like they did again because you had fallen for a man that, legally, still belonged to another woman.

-

“So are you flying to meet her?” You sounded proudly tough, but your sight was a blurry mess and you couldn’t sniff the tears away without denouncing yourself.

“I have to, y/n.” Bill, on the other hand, sounded heartbroken but you couldn’t catch it under your own silly broken heart. You typed wrong words for an assignment you had to return in a couple days just so you could pretend you were barely paying attention to him. If you had at least turned to him, you’d be able to see the distress in his whole body language.

“Great. Those are good news, then.” You hit the space key too hard for someone who sounded so cool. “It was great to see you anyway, Mr. Denbrough.”

It was his warning shot. Bill gave up because he knew you were hiding your cards. He knew exactly what he had done to you but he chose to leave. He didn’t want to hurt you even more. He left silently and you crumbled down as soon as you heard the door softly being closed. You let yourself fall back on the chair, cried silently, shutting your laptop because you knew nothing would come out of your blank mind.

-

“I never intended on giving up the divorce, y/n,” Bill stepped towards you and for each inch he walked closer, you walked another one away from him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that, you big asshole?”

“Because you didn’t let me!” He stressed his words, hands running nervously through the gray strands mixed in between his brown hair. “You couldn’t even look at me when I tried to talk to you, y/n! I understand I hurt you, but I didn’t want to, princess…”

How cliche it was that your escape route ended and your back hit the door behind you when he scooted dangerously closer, arms around you trapping you right there. “Please, believe me when I tell you I never wanted to leave like that. I tried, but you just didn’t let me put things in their place.”

You truly didn’t. You kept avoiding him, skipped meals so you didn’t have to face him until the next day, when he hopped in the first flight. That was two weeks before and now he was there, eyes so intensely on yours that made you want to look away, but you didn’t do that too. You kept your chin up, looking at Bill. Trying hard to not let yourself get carried by his lips that close.

“I was a brat, wasn’t I?” His hands cupped your face gently at your bitter words, thumbs softly running along your cheekbone.

“No...” He soothed you down. “Who could blame you?”

He was making you dizzy, enough so he could sneak under your skin again, press you against the door. He leaned in, but left for you the choice of going ahead or giving up. You closed the gap in between your lips without thinking twice. Your fingers grabbed his dark shirt tightly like you were afraid that he left you again.The scent of aftershave that was unmistakably ‘Bill’ hit you and he tasted like mint as ever, like those candies he always had whenever you found him writing somewhere in the apartment.

His hands left your face and grabbed your thighs fiercely, lifting you so you could wrap them around him while he carried you away from there, into the dark hallway.

“How I’ve missed you, babe...” Bill whispered, lips still pressed on yours, a blissful smile on. “Did you miss me?”

You nodded frenetically, kissing him again. He stepped into your room, kneeling onto your mattress before laying you down your back. You were sure that too much wetness was already pooled in your underwear when Bill towered over you, pulling his shirt off immediately.

His hands went for your waistline, assuring you he wasn’t messing around when he pulled down everything that covered your bottom half at once, harshly. His fingertips traced a line from your knees to your upper inner thigh, making you expose yourself to him. The way he smirked to the view still kneeled in between your legs like that made your cheeks heat up immediately.

Bill crawled on top of you and for every kiss he’d plant on your shivered skin, you’d let out a quiet whimper. He slid up your body slowly, lifting your shirt to find every part on your flesh he was aiming at. From your hip bones and stomach, all the way through the valley in between your breasts, gently licking your hardening nipples and delivering rough, hungry bites all along your collarbones as soon as he took the garment off you, softer ones up your neck to tease you until he finally reached your mouth. And when he did, he swallowed a weak moan that slipped out of you.

You loved everything about him. How ruling his weight felt on you, how he pinned your wrists to the mattress and still kissed you so softly. He was in between your legs, hips shoving against yours here and there making you feel how hard for you he already was under his pants, making you clench around nothing for him every time your needy heat brushed against the roughness of his jeans. The feeling made you buckle underneath him, greedy for more and he noticed. One of Bill’s hands alone was strong enough to keep yours pinned together above your head, the other dropping to push your hips down and still.

“What are you doing? Do you need me that bad?”

You purred to that husky tone of his, no needs to look at him to know how darkened in lust his eyes were. You also knew how helpless you looked by now, all putty under his will and touch like you were since he very first time.

“Please, Bill…”

Your pleads always made him act up. “One more time, princess. What do you want me to do to you?”

Bill knew what you wanted and how you were aching for him to touch you somehow, but he wouldn’t do it unless you begged.

“I want you to touch me,” you mewled. “Please.”

His hand went from your hips to where your thighs met, fingers slowly caressing your folds and earning himself a deep moan.

“Dripping,” he groaned, thumb circling around your clit before two fingers entered you carefully. You arched to his touch, feeling the known shockwaves hit you when he curled his fingers up, moving them at an agonizing lazy pace.

Bill watched every single reaction of yours closely, how your lips parted and your breath hitched. You were about to close your eyes in pleasure after he started drawing figure eights on your clit, but you remembered how many times he had demanded you to keep them open before. So you did. Kept your eyes on his while he increased his pace, feeling you clench more and more around his fingers. Bill got so carried away by your whimpers he let his cuffing hand loose, so you were free again to held onto his shoulders, digging your nails in his skin, while your body tensed more and more… Until he stopped.

You had no time to complain once soon enough he was laying n between your thighs, eagerly mouthing your inner thighs before feasting on your heat.

“Fuck-“ Was the last coherent word that left your lips.

His large hands held your thighs apart as your fingers messed his hair. It drove you insane how easily and fast he could have your legs trembling and body contorting in pleasure while he sucked your clit and tasted your slit on his skilled tongue. You were biting on your knuckles because you were used to keep things low, but Bill pulled your arm away, remembering you didn’t have anyone to be worried about that night. So you moaned for him, loud and obscene, feeling like you’d reach your peak anytime soon. And you did, pulling his hair lightly as he held you still so he could lick you senseless through your high.

As soon as your spams soothed down, you eyed him not even remembering at what point your eyes had sewed shut. He was there, kissing all over your wetness and grinning before he stood up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” You whined, propping yourself on your elbows. He chuckled at your pout, hands undoing his belt.

“Not going anywhere,” Bill said softly. “Just taking these off so I can bury myself inside you.”

You bit down your lip at his words as he unbuckled his pants and pushed everything he had on to the floor after kicking his shoes away. Then you were at a lost of words to the sight of him, and he took advantage of that. Pulled your legs near to the edge of the bed and your thighs up so they were apart and squeezed in between your chest and his as he laid fully on top of you again.

The passionate way of his kiss couldn’t have warned you to what was about to happen. Bill slid his tip down once, from your clit to your slit, and pushed in. He let you moan into his mouth as he filled you up slowly, inch by inch, letting you take your time to adjust to him like he always did. He was groaning very quietly, one hand steading himself over you as the other gripped one your thighs. You cursed under your breath at how he stretched you out, coming apart underneath him when he started to move his hips against yours.

It was heaven and hell put together. Heaven because every time he pulled out and pushed back in, you arched your back more and more, the knot in your lower stomach growing tighter with every thrust. Hell because the way Bill kept you in a tight mating press like that, grunting against your lips was completely unholy.

Didn’t take much until he placed his arms by your head and his paced sensual thrusts turned into rough pounding. Bill fucked you into the mattress while you couldn’t do anything but digging your nails all over his back, moaning in pleasure. The only word that fell from your lips was his name, moaned over and over as he kissed and marked your neck. Still so sensitive from your first orgasm, you easily drove into the second one, clenching so hard around him that had him cursing into the shell of your ear.

You were a complete mess, but he didn’t stop. Bill kept his pace through your climax and after that, kissing your temple while his fingers softly caressed your hair or ran down your sides and cupped your breast.

“You feel so fucking good around me,” he whispered, “you’re gonna make me cum this way, princess.”

His hand sneaked down in between his hard thrusts and when he touched your sore clit it was more than enough. Bill wanted you to give him one more, and you did. You came undone for him and a couple of thrusts later he followed you. He buried himself into you just like he told he’d do, both of you fucked-out in between exhausted whimpers, growls, and sweaty skins.

Both you and Bill remained still until your heavy breath calmed down enough, until he stopped spilling inside you. He kissed you lazily while that, on your lips, your cheeks and forehead, while you were still wrapped around him, arms and legs holding him close.

He didn’t ask if you were okay when your eyes met because he knew the answer through your tired out smile. And he smiled too, kissing you once more before pulling out. But instead of rolling over to lay next to you as he did, he got up and started to gather his clothes from the floor because your parents were at a dinner with some of Patty’s friends and he hadn’t forgotten that.

Still, you were too done to do anything other than lay there and watch him. How his hair was sex-messed and falling down to his eyes, chest still quickly wavering and, the best part, the reddish trails he had on his well-built back when he turned around to grab his belt. You smiled at those a bit devilish, but knowing you already had his marks on you as a payback. And probably you’d have a lot of trouble hiding them the next day.

You wanted to call his attention, ask what would happen from that moment on, but instead, you forced yourself to get up and walk all the way across the room so you could get new panties. As soon as you started moving, the familiar soreness washed over you. You felt Bill’s eyes following you all the time you strolled around naked, picking up your shirt from the floor. There wasn’t a thing you had or wanted to keep from him from now on, so the words slipped off your lips when you were in your way to the en suite bathroom.

“I fell for you,” you said, quietly, but loud enough to gain his immediate attention as he finished buckling his pants on again. “I fell in love with you and I know I shouldn’t, but I did.”

Bill’s lips parted like he was about so say something, but his brows furrowed and nothing came out so you left before it got too embarrassing. As you cleaned yourself up and got partially dressed again you were pretty aware of how much you had exposed now. A risky step because out of all the stuff Bill had told you, he never mentioned feelings even if sometimes he sneaked into your bedroom while you were studying so he could only steal a kiss, or got lost in his thoughts while looking at you when you had a late meal together at the dinner table, when your parents weren’t around.

You knew he once had a college girlfriend that turned into a wife and that when she begged for him to go back to her, he said no. Bill denied his lifelong ‘lover’ so he could come back to your door in the middle of the night. But still, you didn’t want to overthink it.

And didn’t have to.

Bill himself let everything as clear as water when you opened the bathroom door and he was there, enlacing your waist in his arms and kissing you breathless. You even stubbled back on your weak legs, but he held you tightly, smiling wide when you parted away.

“I did too, y/n.” He said it like he was explaining something too obvious and you were adorably silly to understand it. “I f-fell in love with you.”

It was the second time he stuttered that night and you were speechless, reactionless. You never fell in love before, just had had momentary, casual hookups through college years. You never heard someone tell you they fell in love with you either. So telling it for the first time and getting told the same right away was overwhelming. Surprisingly good.

Bill brushed a hair strand off your face, ready to lean in for another kiss but the sound of the door closing a a distance stopped him.

“Holy shit...” You hissed.

A meltdown was unavoidable and you could see it happening practically in slow motion in front of you. Both you and Bill reacted fast. You ran into the room and got your sweatpants on as fast as a lightning while Bill put his shoes on, but he couldn’t get to his shirt fast enough. And if he could, there was no way to hide what happened there when the sheets were that messed.

And that was the first thing that Stan Uris laid his eyes on when he reached his daughter’s bedroom.

“Y/n, I brought you some-”

There was a door but no time to close it and try to find a plan. Stan got cut off by his own astonishment. His eyes trailed quickly from the messed bed, to you standing by its side, and to Bill shirtless in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bill?!”

You never heard your dad shouting like he did and that warned Patty at the kitchen and soon enough she appeared at the door too, eyes scanning around just like Stan did. Putting the pieces together. What happened next was barely a blur and loud arguing in your head. Bill tried to calm Stan down, you tried to calm him down but nothing worked.

“What the fuck are you doing with my daughter, Bill?! Did you-”

“Stan, for God’s sake!”

Not even your mother could stop him. He was screaming*,you and Bill were screaming explanations over him and even Patty had to raise her voice. It was a whole pandemonium.

“What did he do to you, y/n?!”

“Nothing I didn’t let him do!”

“Can you cuh-calm the fuck down, Stan?!”

Stan didn’t punched Bill, not in front of you at least, because as soon as Bill was fully dressed again he was told to to ‘get the fuck outta there’. And he did. Bill took a quick glance at you from the door before disappearing through it and your heart sank under how worried he looked. Stan followed him and so did you tried to do.

“No! Stay here, y/n!” And your mother followed them too.

You could hear them shouting at each other wall the way through the apartment and the door slamming shut.

And then there was silence. A disturbing silence as your head stung and your stomach felt like it had been twisted.

You let yourself fall down onto the mattress, tears starting to fill your eyes. All the bliss you felt a minute ago gone, its place filled with what the hell you felt. Fear, anger and whatever came along.

“Y/n!”

You heard your mother slightly upset calling before she came through your door again. Patty never ever raised her voice at you, neither did Stan. Not like that. They had their ways to show you they were disappointed when you did something bad, but they were never so harsh.

Of course they find out about you and Bill in the worst way possible, before you had a chance to explain yourself and warm them up to it, so when you looked up at your mom, you expected her to yell at you too.

But it didn’t happen.

As soon as she put her eyes on your pitiful self, her shoulders dropped and she sighed.

“What happened here, y/n?”

You could barely keep looking at her, so you just shook your head.

“Exactly what you’re thinking that happened, mom.”

You kept your eyes on your bare feet all the time while she walked closer. The mattress wavered when she sat by your side and took a while before she talked again.

“What exactly happened between you and Bill?” Patty asked once more.

Of course that your hurt expression made her heart shrink. Patty didn’t look angry anymore, just… Confused. Not that disappointed. Your full eyes flooded as soon as you tried to talk, so you cried instead. You cried into your hands because you’ve messed up things, again. First you pushed Bill away and when he came back you couldn’t make him stay. Because you were sure it was an end line. Bill and you dad were friends since they were kids and you didn’t think Bill was up to break it. Stan clearly wouldn’t accept his daughter and childhood friend to end up together, either.

You cried while thinking about what was happening somewhere right now. Maybe Stan had punched Bill, yes, although it’d be extremely out of character for him. But there was a chance. One thing was for sure, he was demanding Bill to stay away from you.

“Dove…” Patty scooted closer. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t understand what happened.”

You understood she was asking for the “how”, so breathed in a lot of air at once and when you finally spoke, it was barely a mumble.

“Me and Bill, we… We were together.” You confessed. “Some times…”

Patty nodded, taking in the information, trying to remain impassive.

“Since when?”

“Since he came here.”

You rubbed the tears away, tring to put yourself together but sure it wouldn’t happen. You were for sure all red swollen eyes and nose, while your mother looked at you seriously, but also tenderly.

“So, let me get this straight,” she started. “When Bill came to escape from Audra until ther divorce process was done, you slept with him? ‘Some times’?”

“Yes.”

“And you did it tonight, too?”

You chuckled, bitter as gall. “Yes…”

“So he didn’t give up on divorcing Audra?”

Her question made you frown. “No…”

Patty sighed in relief. “Well, then Bill is on his way to be a divorced and free man to date another woman. That maybe makes things less… Messy.”

You just looked at her in utter confusion and she cracked a half-smile.

“Listen,” she sat sideway to face you. “I can’t tell you this is an… Appropriate thing to do, you and Bill, for several reasons that I know you’re aware of and understand. But I also can tell you’re already an adult, even if your father doesn’t see it sometimes.”

You snorted quietly and saw her smile widen.

“We tried too hard, waited a lot for you to happen, y/n, you know that. You know how overprotective your dad can be sometimes because of that, and how you’ll always be a little girl to his eyes. To mine too, of course, but I can see the reality better than he can. I can see you grew up and that you’re now a woman.”

“A woman who apparently makes bad decisions...”

“No, a woman who makes HER decisions. Decisions are never bad. They’re good or ‘for learning purposes’ ones, but never bad.”

You shook your head, helpless.

“So are you telling me that having sex with my dad’s best friend was a ‘for learning purposes’ decision?”

“No,” she also shook her head. “Only you can tell that.”

Now the sting in your head had turned into a full headache.

“What I’m telling you, dove, is that you make your own decisions. Your dad can’t deal with it sometimes and that’s one of the reasons he’s probably arguing with Bill somewhere right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a full grown woman now.” Patty stood up.

“I can help you to soothe your dad, but nothing beyond that. You know everything has consequences, and you must be ready to deal with them. Bill is a good man, y/n, but he’s a decision.”

Yeah, Bill was a hell of decision. Your mother didn’t get into the matter of how inappropriate that actually was. She didn’t called you out for the twenty-year difference and all the obvious rest and you were utterly grateful for that. She went deeper than the moral aspects and later you knew that she was trying to prepare you for what was about to happen.

When Stan came back you could barely see him. Your father walked fast past your door, took a quick glance inside but that was all and you heard when he went to his bedroom with your mother. For the whole sleepless night you hoped she was tried to calm him down like she told you she would. The next morning you could tell it somehow worked.

Your father didn’t yell at you either, but he also didn’t look at you.

Stan didn’t look, nor talked nor interacted with you in any way for a whole week and that made you wonder if you’d prefer him to yell at you. He had never gave you the cold treatment before and you would never expect it to hurt like it did. He didn’t give you a single chance to talk and solve things and under his dead looks you couldn’t even try to do it yourself.

That almost made you physically sick. That and being apart from Bill. Your thoughts insisted in drifting towards him and you waited for him to call or text you, but nothing happened. You felt too pathetic both to try to talk to your dad and to try to talk to Bill again. You considered numerous possibilities for his vanishing, from your dad breaking bounds with him, to he being mad at you for ruining their friendship and choosing to step away himself. That only made you sank more into your disgrace.

You mother was of course stepping in eggshells in between you two, but it was clear that, past the shock, she had chose to stood for you in her own passive way. And you could tell it was hurting her to see you and your dad shattered apart like that. She tried to initiate small talks at the dinner table but nothing made you and Stan warm up again. He acted like you weren’t even there until a week later, when the doorbell rang.

You heard it lowly through your earphones in your room but the noise became louder and you pulled them off. Hearing Bill’s voice made you rush into the living room just to find him still by the door clearly defensive while your dad argued with him, and your mom tried to reason. Argued, pointed a finger and everything, but not shouting.

Bill’s eyes ran from Stan to you as soon as you reached the room, but he didn’t smile at all. Not under you dad’s hostility, whose eyes followed Bill’s to see you standing there, knees weak for a reason you couldn’t understand very well. Something between fear and awe.

“Y/n, go to your room.” Your dad demanded, strictly.

“No,” Patty, intervened surprisingly firmly. “She’s staying here. I called Bill and told him to come and you’re all gonna talk like mature people, Stanley!”

“I won’t-”

“You’re being unreasonable, Stanley Uris!” She cut him off for your and Bill’s astonishment. “You’re gonna hear them, both of them. Right now.”

Your father snorted in anger, starting to walk in circles like you knew he did when something pissed him off.

“Okay!” He taunted. “Then explain to me, Bill, why did you sleep with my daughter! Why, when I offered you a place to stay, you went for my daughter behind my back!”

“I already told you but you’re pretending not to listen or understand, Stan!” went Bill. “I fell for her Stan!”

“Bullshit!”

You already felt dizzy in the middle of such chaos, so dizzy you leaned against a wall and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I love him!”

You didn’t perceived you were the one shouting now until you did and the silence came in. You opened your eyes to see all the other on you. They fluctuated from your dad’s disbelief, to your mother’s tenderness, and to Bill’s infatuation. And you looked straight at him when while you built courage enough to say it again.

“I’m in love with Bill, dad. And I’m putting my foot down.” You turned for him. “I love him, and I staying with him.”

Stan’s frown relaxed and you couldn’t read it as a good or bad signal, but he didn’t yelled again, nor even when Bill spoke up.

“I love her too, Stan.” He reasoned. “I know I’m not what you thought for her, but I love y/n.”

Your mother glance on you tried to remain neutral, but you could see her proudness hidden there. Bill was your decision and she seemed proud you stood for it.

“And, if you let me and please let me, I’m staying with her.”

Your dad seemed to be about to pass out or something like that, but he didn’t. He breathed deeply, taking his glasses off so he could squeeze the bridge of nose and relieve some tension.

“I-” he looked from you to Bill. “What do you expect me to think about this whole fucked up situation, Bill?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not asking for you give me p-pats on the back, Stan. I’m just asking you for a chance. I love your daughter, yes, and I promise you I’ll take care of her if you let me.”

“Mom’s parents didn’t like you, you told me once.” You said, standing straight again. “They didn’t accept you dating her for ages and I know you felt like… Like shit for that. Don’t you realize you’re acting exactly like them?”

Now you seemed to catch him off guard. His shoulders dropped when Patty agreed with a quiet hum.

“I’m not a child, dad. I can decide for my life alone if you let me. If you trust me enough to do that.”

You dad thought to himself for a while, remained silent and looking at you, but you didn’t dare to look away until he sighed.

“Yeah, fine.” He still sounded bitter, but a lot of weight seemed to be taken off your back instantly. “You can… Do whatever you both want with your lives, but please don’t ask me to act like I totally agree with it for now. And you,” he pointed at Bill. “Don’t you dare messing things up.”

“I won’t.” Bill said right away.

Your dad didn’t say any final words to you, but he looked at you at least before withdrawing himself to his room. You knew he wasn’t cool with everything at all, but it was progress. You wanted to think like that.

“I’m gonna.. Give you two some time.” Your mother said, before following him, and you couldn’t show her more gratitude through a smile than you did.

And then there was you and Bill, standing across from each other. He now seemed less stressed, but you noticed how the dark circles became darker.

“That-That was…”

“Don’t even try naming it.” You chuckled. “Seriously, did my mom call you?”

You approached each other and he had a smug smile on his lips that gave you those cheesy butterflies inside.

“Yes, she did. I always adored Patty.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.”

Bill leaned back so he could check the hallway before having his arms around you again. “So do you love me?”

You shoved his shoulder lightly and he laughed at your fluster while on your tiptoes, passing your arms around his neck.

“Shut up and don’t make me regret throwing a whole damn tantrum for you.”

“It’s okay, bratty. I love you too, y/n Uris.”

That made your heart skip a beat, for sure, but when Bill leaned in for a kiss you placed a finger between his lips and yours.

“No. You better don’t. Not here.”

He pulled back, nodding and mocking disappoint.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirty-Six - The Father of the Bride

They say one of the hardest days in a man’s life is the one when he gives his daughter away to another man. And Jeremy was travelling into that dark night alone, without any one to advise him. His father never had the same experience; Jeremy’s sister never got married. Not that his father would care or even be present should his sister get married. In fact, Jeremy was sure his father was the reason his sister never married in the first place.

Fortunately, that wasn’t his daughter’s case. She had had the example of a happy family, one that he had raised with love and understanding, hoping to break the cycle of abandonment. Although her experience before Victor was enough to send anyone on a one-way trip to celibacy, that wasn’t his Andrea. She was strong, resilient, and had within her a joy of life many spend a lifetime trying to obtain. She was insightful and hopeful, and that gave her the truly rare ability to see beauty in everything. Apparently, such had been the case with Victor. Where everyone else saw coldness, she saw light.

Although Jeremy and Victor were very different men with very different backgrounds, he could see so much of him in that remarkable young man it was almost funny. Yet, he could never exactly figure what it was that he found so similar. The realization dawned on him at the rehearsal dinner, when he saw Gregory interact with his son.

A deadbeat dad is a deadbeat dad, no matter the social status. That night, he had seen in Gregory’s eyes the same contempt he saw in his own father’s, and in Victor’s eyes the exact same blend of hurt and defiance that he was sure oftentimes he had in his own. And in that moment, Jeremy was absolutely certain that Victor was the best husband Andrea could find: a man who had experienced rejection and pain, but was driven enough to create a life full of love and understanding for himself and the love of his life.

Jeremy sighed and rolled out of bed. This was way too much contemplation before coffee. Plus, he hated to wake up without Mariana, and he could really use her that morning. She would surely and quickly put an end to his useless internal monologue, either offering kind words or simply telling him to get his lazy ass out of bed.

Well, his lazy ass was out of bed. Now what?

What does the father of the bride do?

As he stepped into the cold shower, he pondered about what was expected of him that day. What the heck is the role of the father of the bride? In short, absolutely nothing. He comes forward with a check to pay for the wedding and takes a little stroll down the aisle. Since Victor was a multimillionaire, the stroll was all he had. Jeremy scoffed, accidentally getting a little bit of shampoo in his mouth, pairing with his bitter thoughts: a lifetime racking his brain on how to properly raise a girl and on the most important day of her life, all that was required from him was to be able to walk a straight line. Even a sobriety test could be more interesting.

Getting out of the shower, he noticed a new notification on his phone. A text from his wife.

Have you seen Andy?

To aggravate him even more, Mariana was at Andrea’s room, to help her put on the dress, dote on her, calm down any eventual wedding jitters, leaving him to his own devices. Him, he had no job. Not only was he losing his daughter that day, he had to feel like a useless bum too.

His stomach growled. Maybe it was just hunger putting him in a bad mood. Time to put on some clothes, look for Andrea, and get some grub.

He had just shut his bedroom door when he heard a loud thump at the end of the hall.

“Crap! Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!” Andrea fumbled to get herself off the ground, her cheeks red as tomatoes.

He watched her awkwardly walk down the hall, a knowing smirk on his face. The bride’s room wasn’t that way, the groom’s was.

“Woke up early to walk the dog?” He jested, knowing this would make her blush even more.

“Sorry, Dad, no time to talk!” She quickened her step, going for the stairs.

“I was going to say don’t keep him waiting, but it looks like you didn’t!” He joked again, only to be ignored. He didn’t care, though, laughing at his own joke.

Ok, that seemed to be taken care of. At least both bride and groom would be relaxed before the ceremony. Well, as much as they could be. It was time for breakfast.

It was clear to Jeremy that Terry and Mina loved Victor like he was their own child. He was aware that all the preparations depended on Victor’s money and the wedding planner’s taste, but there was an additional and special care in everything Mina and Terry did for him, one that wedding planners can’t replicate, one that is only given to a son. This would remain unnoticed by a lot of people, but to a parent, this special attention was plain to see.

“Good morning.” He announced himself, as he entered the dining room.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones.” Mina greeted him from the kitchen, as she dispatched two trays of food, probably for the happy couple. “I will be right there with you.”

Soon enough, she arrived with a plate filled with bacon, eggs and pancakes, placing it on the table, in front of him.

“Have all the others had breakfast yet?” He asked, seeing himself alone with Mina in the dining room.

“Yes, everybody is already busy with their tasks, they came to eat really early.” Mina was about to leave when Jeremy stopped her.

“Care to sit with me for a quick coffee? I don’t like eating alone.” He asked, feeling weird about having a meal on his own.

“Your granddaughter is so beautiful.” Mina commented, sitting next to him. “So playful and always smiling! Victor loves her, I have never seen him so fascinated with a  child before.”

“Yeah, that one has him wrapped around her little finger…” Jeremy chuckled. “All of us, really.”

“It’s just so sad that Andrea…” Mina trailed off, a concerned look on her face.

“It is.” Jeremy frowned, remembering her pain during that dreadful year. “A farewell gift from that abusive piece of shit.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon my English.”

“No, those words are appropriate.” Mina supported him, almost as enraged as he was, making it clear she cared deeply about his daughter. “It just infuriates me to see these two kids, with such big hearts, go through so much. My Victor acts tough, but in the end, he is still that small little boy that just wants a little affection. At least they found each other. Andrea seems to love him very much.”

“Oh yes, she does.” Jeremy nodded. “That one will love on him until she’s blue in the face.”

“My heart breaks for him today, to tell you the truth.” Mina was misty-eyed, her voice somewhat strained. “It’s the most important day of his life and his father can’t be supportive. And surely he must be hurting, thinking of how his mother didn’t live to witness his special day. It’s like he is being abandoned all over again.”

Jeremy’s thoughts drifted back to his own wedding, in Portugal, away from his friends and family. There was something that cheered him up on that day though: a postcard from his aunt, with some money and his mother’s ring and the words You got this, kiddo. Be happy .

Jeremy smiled confidently at Mina.

“He has someone. He has a mother right here. The one that loved him and nurtured him for years. And that’s the one he needs.”

Well fed and in a much better mood, Jeremy marched to his bedroom. He was wrong, he had a job after all: to be a comforting voice. That was usually Mariana’s job, but she was so busy tending to their daughter and the other bridesmaids that she wouldn’t have the time to work her magic. That day, such a daunting and important task seemed to fall on him. He hoped some of his wife’s wisdom had rubbed off on him.

He took out his wedding suit and put it on, checking himself in the mirror. He was a far cry from the boy he was thirty five years ago, although one thing remained: the look of happiness in his eyes. He was looking for his cuff links when his wife stormed into the room, already wearing her own formal dress, her hair and makeup perfectly done, yet a livid look on her face.

“Where were you? I have been calling you!” She reprimanded him.

“Oh shoot, the sound was very low, I didn’t hear it.” He grimaced, looking at his phone. “Why? What happened?”

“ Filho da puta, arrogante de merda! ” She swore in Portuguese, which was rare for her. Something very wrong was going on. “Gregory is not coming to the wedding. Apparently, his reputation is more important than his son. And your daughter is on the verge of a panic attack, because that producer had the fucking brilliant idea of telling her about the dozens of reporters writing articles about her wedding!” She held her husband’s face, looking him in the eyes with determination. “Our kids need us, Jer. Did you bring that special brandy?”

“To open with Victor after lunch, yes. Why?”

“Forget lunch. He needs it now.” She shook her head with sadness, probably name-calling Gregory in her mind. “Jer, he needs a father.”

Jeremy didn’t need to be told twice. Bottle of brandy in hand, he ran to Victor’s room. He suddenly felt as infuriated as his wife, picturing himself punching Greg square in the jaw for being such a prick, both for  Andy and Victor. Not even on his son’s most special day, he couldn’t avoid a scene? He had to let his son down once again?

He found Joshua pacing nervously outside.

“Oh, thank God!” His son sighed in relief. “I honestly don’t know what to do! His old man was here, they had a huge fight. I had to grab Victor, he was on the verge of punching his father. Fuck, the things he was saying about Andy, I felt like punching him too, but then I remembered what mom said.” Joshua took a deep breath to calm himself down. “After that, he wouldn’t touch his breakfast, Goldman had to threaten to call Andy if he didn’t eat. He’s completely shut down, Dad. He’s barely talking, just sits there, lost in thought.” He looked at his father with angry eyes. “I honestly don’t know if he’s well enough to get married right now. He looks… broken.”

“Don’t worry, son.” Jeremy patted his son in the back. “I got this.”

Jeremy knocked on the door, and as soon as Goldman opened it, he signaled for the assistant to wait outside. He found Victor already in his wedding suit, sitting on the sofa, staring at the floor.

“You look tired, son.” Jeremy started, pretending not to know what was going on. “That’s what you get for sleeping with the bride before the wedding.” He joked, not getting a response. “Or wedding jitters kept you up?”

Victor suddenly looked up, his face expressionless. Jeremy could see the pain in his eyes, though.

“I’m fine.” He answered with a flat voice.

“Well, I have something that will make you feel more than fine.” Jeremy placed the bottle on the coffee table with a loud clunk. That definitely caught Victor’s attention.

“A Rémi Martin XO?”

“A wedding gift to calm your nerves.” Jeremy went to the food table. “Let me get two glasses.”

“Feel free to help yourself.” Victor slid the bottle further from him. “It’s too early for me to drink.”

“Son, you need this more than I do.” Jeremy poured some brandy into a glass, handing it to his son in law. “You may fool your friends out there, but you can’t fool me. Drink. It’ll help.”

He watched as Victor took a sip, letting the brandy sit in his mouth, swallowing after with a satisfied exhale.

“Magnificent.” Victor observed the brandy in his glass. “Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“Of all the people I know, you are the most worthy of it.” Jeremy chuckled. “Andrea or Joshua wouldn’t appreciate it correctly. I would be casting pearls to swine.”

After a brief moment of silence, both swirling the brandy in their glasses, Jeremy decided to jump in and address the matter at hand.

“How are you feeling, son?” He carefully observed Victor.

“I’m fine.” Victor answered, his voice hinting his frustration. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

“It’s a big day, after all. We tend to look back, make a quick review of where we’ve been, how far we have come. The people we miss.”

With a sigh, Victor put his glass down on the coffee table. But didn’t utter a word.

“How most things won’t change, no matter how hard we try.” Jeremy offered again, hinting at Victor’s relationship with his father.

Victor smirked bitterly, looking at him. Still, not a word.

“Mari and I were much younger when we got married, I was 25, she was 22. Her family didn’t accept our relationship, so we eloped in a city nearby and got married without anyone’s consent. I could see she was upset not having her family there. I was actually relieved to not have mine.”

His son in law looked at him, surprised. With a weak smile, Jeremy continued.

“As you may have already noticed, Mari and I never talked much about my family to my kids. To be honest, I don’t even know if they are dead or alive. My father was an evil man that left us for another woman. My mother was a weak-minded woman who could never stand up for herself or her children. The moment he left, I had to start working to feed our family, in a winery in Napa Valley. That was how I became an oenologist, my boss helped me in every way he could to give me a steady path.”

Jeremy kept his eyes on the table, unwilling to let past emotions take hold of him.

“The day I got married was the happiest and the hardest in my life. As I looked at the woman by my side, there was a feeling of dread inside of me. I felt alone, unprepared, just a kid. I had no real experience of what a healthy marriage was. My father was an awful husband and a lousy father, how could I be any good at it? I was afraid to repeat his mistakes.”

“Yet, you didn’t.” Victor concluded by himself.

“No, I didn’t.” Jeremy shook his head, feeling proud of himself. “All it took was a look at the woman I loved, standing by my side, smiling at me, and I knew I wasn’t alone. When you stand at that aisle, and you see Andy walk towards you, mark my words, you’ll feel invincible. Nothing else will matter. You’ll know that you love her with all your heart, and even feeling unprepared, there is nothing you wouldn’t do for her.”

“There isn’t.” Victor looked Jeremy in the eyes, his expression assertive. Jeremy knew that look too, it was the one he had on his wedding day.

“I know.” He assured the young man. “That life you leave behind will seem like a mirage when you lead the one you chose for yourself. Don’t let it weigh on you now. You’re almost there.”

“Thank you.” Victor said in a low voice, seemingly touched by the story.

“And I need to see about a bride!” Jeremy downed the rest of his brandy, making a face. “On second thought, this brandy might not have been such a good idea. Maybe don’t drink it all.”

Not giving another word to the men waiting outside, he strode to his daughter’s room, feeling very good about himself. His job here was done. Time to see how beautiful Andrea looked.

She was breathtaking in that dress. Jeremy couldn’t care less about dresses, but even he had to notice the beautiful work in the halter neckline, lined with beautiful stones and covered with lace. It was like nothing he had seen before, a true work of art. Becoming a Lee sure had its advantages.

Not that Andrea cared though. She was still somewhat anxious with all the media outside, all the girls surrounding her, trying to reassure her.

“No way I’m going out there! We’ll have to get married inside.” Andrea concluded, panicked.

“It will be ok, you’ll do fine.” Mariana stroke her back, comforting her.

“No, it won’t! Everyone’s eyes will be on me, I’m going to embarrass Victor!”

“You are not, Andy. It’s just a short walk to the carriage, and then to the aisle. We’ll be with you every step of the way, you’ll do fine.” Diane chimed in.

“And I have instructed the photographers to be as discreet as possible, you won’t even notice them, I promise.” The short producer offered. But Andy wasn’t listening anymore, her mind reeling with fear.

“Oh my God, I can feel myself sweat, I’m going to have pit stains in my dress.” She fumbled with the skirt of her dress. “And it’s too long for me to walk anyway, so I’m surely going to trip on it. I’m going to faceplant on the floor, and every magazine will have a picture of it to remember it.”

“No, you won’t. I will be holding your arm the entire time, remember? Just like I held you when you were learning to walk.” Jeremy spoke up, stealing Andrea’s attention.

“Dad?” She looked up, seeking his support. The same look she had in her eyes like when she was just a child, and still needed him. Jeremy felt his heart swell with joy.

“Remember, Mari?” He spoke to his wife, as he took his daughter’s hand. “This one could talk even before she could walk. And she was so scared of falling.”

“You would only stand and walk if we held your hand.” Mariana continued to talk. “Your father would hold your hand, keeping you straight, while you took your first steps. It took a while to convince you that you were safe, but eventually you walked on your own.”

Andrea smiled, and Jeremy could almost see her, so little, blonde curls jumping up and down as she tried to steady herself.

“You know, as you and Josh grew up, I always thought you’d be the one that needed protection the most. Especially after a few years. Josh was a lively kid, full of spunk and surrounded by friends, while you spent your days pressing the keys of that piano, by yourself. You seemed so fragile and lonely to me, and oftentimes I wondered if you had a hard time making friends, since Josh was the only one you'd play with. But then you had your first recital.”

“I remember that day. I was so nervous.” Andrea recalled, seemingly more relaxed. Mariana left the room with the bridesmaids, probably wanting to give them a moment.

“I remember you walking to that stage, so small, and playing masterfully, getting a look of awe from everyone. That’s when it hit me. What I was seeing wasn’t a small girl isolating herself, but instead someone who, at a very tender age, was already working tirelessly to achieve a goal. You weren’t hiding from the world. You were preparing yourself to face it.”

“Dad…” His daughter was misty-eyed, smiling at him.

“For some years, my heart relaxed.” Jeremy continued. “I consistently saw you work towards your goals, and in the meantime you made friends, a tight circle. No one could ever make you give up what you wanted. Until that scumbag.” He paused, relaxing his fists, that he had unwillingly clenched while he spoke. “There is no greater pain than to helplessly watch your child fade away, lose her spark. But once again, you proved me wrong. You got to your feet, you overcame your trauma and healed from the abuse. You got your doctorate, an outstanding career, a good man to start a life with. You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, stronger than me. I have no words to describe how proud I am to be your father.”

“I’m not stronger than you.” Andrea blinked a few happy tears away. “I am strong because of you. Because you always saw worth in everything I did. Because you always believed in me.”

“Hurry up, guys.” Mariana peeked into the room from the door. “The groom is ready. It’s time.”

“Well, I believe some photographers won’t stop you now.” He stood up, taking Andrea’s hand. “Let’s go. There’s a nervous young man anxiously waiting for you.”

“Victor is nervous?” She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh yes. I had to get him slightly drunk.” Jeremy chuckled at the scolding look in his daughter’s expression. “Don’t worry, he’s sober enough.”

He left the mansion proudly, Andy by his side, holding his arm tight. There were sounds of flashes, of pictures being taken, but she kept her eyes on him, confidently, like she did so many years ago. They climbed into the carriage that would take them to the wedding venue, and she looked serene, sure of herself, happy. The same expression she had when facing so many trials in her life. She was ready.

As he walked down the aisle with his precious daughter, Jeremy’s chest felt warmer with a sudden realization: he wasn’t giving away his daughter, because she wasn’t his to give in the first place. She had always belonged to herself, following her own path, focusing on her own dreams, making her own choices. Jeremy was simply privileged to hold her hand as she bravely took her first steps towards a brilliant future.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 37

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

“Two more weeks and I’ll be six!”

Millie makes the announcement as she stands on a kitchen chair; pushed up against the counter next to the  stove as they work side by side to prepare their customary Saturday morning breakfast. Clad in a t-shirt that once belonged to Ovi; the color long faded and holes under the arms and tears at the hem, yet still bearing the crest from Hargrave school in Mumbai. It’s far too big on her; reaching her ankles and having to be tied into a knot at the back of her neck in order to narrow the shoulder and keep the garment on her slight frame. But it’s one of her favorites; a prized possession that she refuses to part with, as if it's worth more than any other priceless artifact in the world.

“Well I’m really six in ten days,” she corrects herself. “‘Cause two weeks is fourteen days and that’s when my party is but my birthday’s before that.”

It still bothers him; the mere mention of the age of six bringing back a lot of painful memories.  There’d only been three months between Austin’s diagnosis and death; the cancer shockingly aggressive, no treatment -no matter how severe- touching it. And he’d only been in Afghanistan for a week when he’d gotten the call that he’d passed away; taking a three day sabbatical for the visitation and the funeral before heading back. He’d known before he’d left out of the house that it would be the last time he’d ever be there;  that his marriage was over.  Sarah had refused to even speak to him since he arrived home; avoiding him even at their own child’s funeral. They’d barely spoken their words to each other over the course of that weekend, but he’d seen the hatred and the disgust in her eyes.  The disappointment. He had abandoned his only child when he’d been needed the most; leaving Austin scared and lost and questioning why daddy hated him so much that he’d take off without even a proper goodbye.

In reality, their marriage had been falling apart for quite some time. They’d tied the knot fresh out of high school, wanting to do it before the start of his basic training and scared by the prospect of him being immediately sent overseas. The cheating began only a year into things; word travels fast when your wife is the ‘base whore’. He’d tried to pass it off as gossip, even though the evidence began to add up as time went on. And he’d confronted her many times, only to be told he was ‘imagining things’ and being ‘paranoid’; that he needed to grow up and get some balls and be ‘less of a little bitch’ and not so self conscious. He would have left the first time he caught her red headed, but two days later she was begging him for forgiveness and telling him she was pregnant and that there was no way the baby WASN’T his. So he stayed.

He’d been much younger then. Foolish. Convinced that she was the love of his life; the woman he was destined to be with forever. Who he’d have a family with and grow old and gray alongside of. Someone that would not only be a spouse, but  best friend and confidant. He’d still been a kid when they’d gotten married, and years later -seventeen, to be exact- he’d realized just how wrong he’d been about her.  Thirty-five years old and addicted to booze and pain meds yet somehow managing to find the most incredible woman he’d ever met.   Someone who could handle him at his most unbearable and difficult times; strong and fierce and never backing down from a challenge. At that point he’d given up on himself; hopeless and lost. Broken. Believing he wasn’t worthy of absolution.  And then Esme had come along and tore all those walls down. Showing him what love -real love- could be and SHOULD be. Never once...in seven years...questioning her loyalty or faithfulness. Someone just as damaged and tattered as he was. Two broken halves that had come together to make a slightly dented whole.

“Six is a pretty big number, you know.” Millie says, as she carefully ladles pancake batter onto the griddle. “It means I’m getting closer to ten. Double digits!”

Tyler sips slowly from a  steaming mug of coffee. “Why do you have to break my heart like that?”

“I can’t stay little forever,” she informs him.

“Doesn’t mean you have to grow up as quick as you are.”

It seems like yesterday they were bringing her home from the hospital; all of eight and half pounds soaking wet, with a head full of light auburn hair and enormous blue eyes.  And he’d sit on the couch or lie in bed with her sleeping against his chest, marvelling over how perfect and incredible she was;  impossibly tiny hands and feet and the soft, content noises she’d make while she was eating. That little yawn with the squeak at the end and how long and dark her eyelashes were. Overwhelmed by just how much he loved her and how grateful he was that…after all the shitty things he’d done in his life, especially to Austin...he’d been worthy of being a dad again. And it’s almost as if he blinked and she suddenly grew up; going from taking those wobbly first steps being able to ride a bike without training wheels. Fiercely independent and strong  in both physical strength and convocation and insanely intelligent. Tall and lanky, yet powerful for someone so young; fearless and brave and always willing to stand up for what’s right, no matter who is against her.

And beautiful. So fucking beautiful. With that thick wavy hair -lighter now, the exact same color and texture as his- that falls over her shoulders and nearly reaches the middle of her back; those blue eyes framed by those dark lashes and those freckles across the bridge of her nose.  For a brief moment he can see her as a teenager; tall and slender and a mixture of both fierce and feminine; all the boys wanting her attention. And he doesn’t know if that breaks his heart or makes him want to lock her in her room forever.

Maybe it’s both.

“I can’t help it,” she says, and uses her elbow to push hair away from her ear. “That I’m growing up so fast. You just don’t want me being a teenager and meeting boys and stuff like that.”

“What makes you think I want to talk about this crap?” Tyler retorts, stepping behind her chair as she removes the hair tie she sports around her wrist and passes it back to him. Continuing to place batter onto the griddle and flipping off the nearly cooked pancakes as he gathers her hair in his hands and secures it with the elastic.

“Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll only date the nice boys.”

“Sure you will. You’ll probably date the ones you know I’ll hate the most.”

“Nope. Just the nice ones. Mommy says I’m a good judge of character. Like

“She did, did she? She said she was a good judge of character?”

“Yep. She said that's why she fell in love with you. ‘Cause her heart told you were a good guy even though you tried to act like you weren’t.”

“Really?”

“She said that you had a big heart even if it was really sad and angry. That guys like you weren’t supposed to be nice but she could tell that you were different. And she said it didn't hurt that you were really cute, too.”

He smirks. “She called me cute?

“You ARE cute. Obviously. I look just like you and look how cute I am!”

“You make a very valid point,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You ARE very cute.”

“Was mommy cute? When you met her?”

“She’s cute now.”

“But what was she like then?”

“She looked pretty much the same now as she did back then. She had really long hair though. All the down to her bum nearly. Do you remember her long hair? How she cut it all off when we moved to Colorado?”

“I loved her hair. She used to let me brush and braid it and play with it. I was so mad when she cut it off.”

“You and me both.”

“But she’s pretty either way. Is that why you fell in love with her? Because she was cute?”

“That’s one of the reasons, I guess.”

“What were the other ones?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he grins, and then grabs two clean plates and forks and knives from the dishwasher.

“I’m almost six and curious about the world,” she reasons. “I like hearing about this stuff. About how you and mommy met and what you guys were like before I came along.”

“You came along pretty quick,” Tyler admits. “We didn’t know each other that well when we made you.”

“Grandma said it was bad that you guys made me before you got married. That you were going to go to hell for it. Among other things that she wouldn’t tell me. She said it meant I was a ‘bastard child’. What does that mean?”

“It means your grandma is an evil bitch and she’s the one that’s going to hell for ever telling you things like that.”

“Is it bad? That you and mommy made me before you got married?”

He shrugs. “I guess some people might think that way. It wasn’t bad to us. And we’re the ones that got together and made you, so…”

“I was a total surprise.”

“Yeah, you were a bit of a shock. A good one though.”

“Cause you were happy that I was coming. Because Austin died and you were really sad about it, and then mommy told you about me and made your heart happy again, right?”

He places a kiss to her forehead. “That’s exactly it.”

“Did you want me to be a boy?”

“It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted you to be healthy and get here safely. Because you were stubborn and very sneaky and you liked giving your mom a hard time. You didn’t want to stay where you were. You wanted to be sooner, not later. And you were pretty determined about it.”

“But the doctor made me stay in. ‘Cause it would have been bad if I got here too soon.”

“Very bad. You would have been even smaller than Addie. And she’s pretty tiny.”

“But I stayed in and cooked some more and then I was born and you cried because you were so happy. Mommy says you almost fainted.”

“Mommy needs to stop telling you so many of my secrets.”

“Why would you faint? Is it gross?”

“It’s a little...nasty.”

“Why? What’s so nasty about it? Where did I come out of? I don’t understand that part. I know I was in mommy’s tummy, but how did they get me out of there? Did they cut her open to pull me out?”

“Nope. You came out the normal way.”

“Which is what? What’s the normal way?”

“That’s something you’ll find out when you’re older. A lot older.   Here…” he grabs the plates of food -one in each hand- and turns his back towards her. “..get on.”

She giggles as she uses the rungs of the chair and  tight grip on the neck of his t-shirt to climb up onto his back; legs wrapping around his torso, arms around his neck as he carries her through the kitchen and living room and out onto the back patio. “You’re getting big, daddy. I can’t get my legs as far anymore.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“You’re not fat. You’re big. And strong. Mommy likes all your muscles.”

“Did she tell you that too?”

“She says you’re like a week worth of snacks.”

“Just a week? That’s kind of harsh. I like to think it’s more like a month, but…”

“You’re alright I guess,” she says, as he stands alongside one of the chairs and she slides down his back and into the seat.  “Maybe when I’m older I’ll meet a guy like you.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“You’re not so bad. You have a nice smile and  pretty eyes and you’re really tall. Girls like tall guys. Especially tall guys that are ripped.”

He frowns. “You’re starting to sound a little too much like your mother.”

“And you’re funny and you’re really nice and you can be really sweet and cute.”

“What did I tell you about the word?”

“You know, you CAN be cute and bad ass at the same time.”

“Not in my world.”

“Well your world is messed up then. But maybe I will. Meet a guy like you. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Smirking, he slips into the chair across from her. “Be careful what you wish for.”

***

They spend two hours surfing and then take a walk along the sand; Millie with her plastic pail in hand as she searches for unique rocks and shells and pieces of beach glass. Stopping every feet two toss tennis balls into the water for Mac to retrieve. He naturally loves all his kids and cherishes each moment he gets to spend with them, but there’s something extra special about the time he gets with Millie. Addie is still tiny and she can’t really spend quality time with her older sister, so Millie often takes a back seat to all of her brothers. They’re loud and boisterous and more demanding and needy than she is. She’s independent and remarkably self sufficient for someone so young. But she’s in her glory when it’s just the two of them; she gets all the attention and doesn’t have to fight to get a word in edgewise and gets to be on the receiving end of all the love and affection. And he thrives on being the centre of her universe; the way she trusts him so wholly and completely, without reservation. How she holds no grudges over all the time he’d been absent in her life or when he’s raised his voice and unintentionally hurt her feelings.  Always looking at him as if he’s the greatest dad on the planet; with so much love and adoration that it sometimes takes his breath away.

He watches her now as she walks several meters in front of him. Clad in one of her many bathing suits, his baseball hat on her head; constantly falling over her eyes. The way she crouches in the sand and admires every rock and shell she comes across; turning them over in her palms and holding them up to the sun and gazing at them like they’re the most precious gems in the world. So full of curiosity and exuberance. Everything about her so pure and innocent. Perfect. This beautiful little human that he’d helped create during what was quite possibly one of the most chaotic and unpredictable times of his life.

“Look at this one!” Millie excitedly races back to him, holding a large chunk of dark purple beach glass in her palm. “It’s so pretty! We should make something with it.”

“Like what?”

“Something for mommy. Like a necklace or something. Can we? Make her something? I want to surprise her. She’s been sad lately and I don’t like when she’s sad. Mommy deserves to be happy and she deserves pretty things. ALL the pretty things.”

“I don’t deserve pretty things?” he teases.

“You already have something pretty. The prettiest. You have mommy. What more could you want?”

Instead of placing the glass in her pail,  she tucks it into one of the pockets on his board shorts and then scampers off again; Mac hot on her heels, using his nose to help her dig through the sand on her valiant search for ‘buried treasure’.

“Haven’t you seen you guys in a while.”

He glances over his shoulder at the sound of Salena’s voice; he hadn’t realized they’d wandered THAT close to her property. He’s been keeping his distance; staying civil when he sees her and trying to give up off a vibe of normalcy. Whatever she’s up to, it’s best to just stay the course and act as if nothing has changed; don’t cause her to be suspicious and question why his behaviour has changed. And he tries not to panic or worry every time his wife spends time with her. Especially with one or all of the kids in tow.

“We’ve been around,” Millie responds, once more crouched in the sand as she and Mac continue their digging; eyes narrow and her brow furrowed as she regards the neighbor.

“We’ve been busy,” Tyler says, and gives a small smile as she steps alongside him, tensing when she wraps him in a hug of greeting. He isn’t the affectionate type; saving both giving and receiving for his wife and kids.

“Don’t touch him” Millie snarls. “That’s my dad. Mommy doesn’t like when other girls touch him. And neither do I.”

“It’s only a hug, kiddo.” Salena assures her. “Lots of friends hug.”

“You’re not looking at him like he’s your friend. I’m not stupid. You look at him like mommy looks at him. And only mommy is allowed to look at him like that. And don’t…” she scowls and moves away when Salena kneels down beside her and attempts to embrace her. “...I don't wanna be touched either.”

“She’s grumpy,” Tyler says, as a way of an apology.  

“I’m not grumpy, daddy. I just don’t like her.”

“Wow…” Salena gives a small, uncomfortable laugh. “...she’s nothing if not honest. Definitely her mother’s daughter.”

“Don’t talk about my mom,” Millie retorts. “And I’m not like her. I’m just like my dad. I don’t have time for other peoples’ bullshit.”

“Amelia…” Tyler gives her a look of warning. “...settle.”

“You shouldn’t touch him anyway,” she continues. “He’s not yours to touch. He’s mommy’s. He’s married to her. And he’s staying that way. He doesn’t mess around. He’s one of the nice guys. And if he wasn’t, you’re not his type.”

Salena scoffs. “She’s very…”

“Protective? She’s always been like this with me. Since she was old enough to talk. No one messes with daddy. Not on her watch. She’s a pretty good bodyguard.”

“I keep the sketchy people away,” Millie says. “And you’re big time sketchy. Where’s my uncle Kyle? Is he dead?”

Salena blinks.

“We haven't seen him in like forever. He was supposed to be in Australia to visit us and now he’s visiting you. He knew us before he knew you, you know. He’s mommy’s brother. He’s known us forever. Since I was just a tiny baby. We don’t see him much and now you take him away. Auntie Nik would always take daddy away, but at least she brought him back to us. Uncle Kyle just disappeared. Poof. Gone.”

“I’m sure he’s alive and well,” Tyler assures, and then turns to the neighbor with a smirk, passing it off as a joke. “He is, yeah? Alive? He’s not buried in the yard somewhere? You didn’t weigh him down and toss him into the ocean?”

“She probably poisoned his coffee.” Millie says. “Like mommy always says she’s going to do when  you REALLY piss her off.”

“Why don’t you go down to the water and see what you can find down there,” he suggests. “Maybe you’ll find something else really pretty for mommy.”

“Who was the guy that was at your place the other day?” The soon to be six year old asks. “In the black SUV?”

Salena frowns. “Guy in a black SUV? What…?”

“Don’t play dumb. I saw him. Daddy did too. Daddy has good eyes and really good instincts. That’s why the bad guys were so scared of him. And ‘cause they knew he could kick their asses.”

“Amelia,” he tries again. “Go down to the water with Mac and…”

“Daddy knows he was watching us,” she continues. “You’re not very smart if you think daddy wouldn’t notice. He notices everything. And if anyone tries to mess with mommy or any of us kids,  he’ll make them suffer. Big time.”

“Amelia…” his tone is more forceful now. “...enough.  Take Mac and go down the water. Give me a few minutes, yeah? Then we’ll go home.”

“Fine,” she huffs, then stands up and angrily brushes sand off her butt and the backs of her legs. “...but she’s lying, daddy. About the guy. I saw him. And I know you did too.”

He watches her as she stomps off, the dog hurrying alongside her. He knew he should be shocked that she’d been that aware of the incident the other morning; he’d thought he’d done a pretty good job of hiding the suspicion and the concern. But is it really that much of a surprise that she’d be that observant at even that young of an age? After all, both her parents had been in a job where keen observation skills weren’t just handy. They were a necessity. Often the first thing responsible for keeping you alive. It isn’t the way he’d wanted things to go; he’d wanted solid proof of wrongdoing before confronting Salena. But it’s too late now.

“So,”  he asks as he turns to the neighbor. “Who was it? The guy watching us.”

“He wasn’t…”

“Don’t try to bullshit me. I know when someone is watching me. I spent years in a job where I had to have eyes in the back of my head. Where staying alive depended on it. And don’t tell me it was just some friend that happened to stop by. I saw you get out of the Jeep with folders in your hand. And I know he was wearing an earpiece.”

“You ARE observant.”

“Why was he watching me? More importantly, why was he watching my kids? The last guy who fucked with my family? I cut off two of his fingers with a hunting knife and yanked out a few out of his teeth with pliers. Then I handed him over to guys who did even worse things to him before killing him. So you tell your friend that if he comes near my wife and my kids, it won’t end well for him either.”

“He’s a colleague,” she says.

“What kind of colleague? What do you actually do for a living? And don’t lie. I already know you aren’t who you say you are.”

“How much DO you know?” she counters.

“I know there’s no record of you ever attending any school in Australia. And there’s nothing on you at the bureau of transportation or with any other branch of the government. You think I don’t do my research?”

“I didn’t expect things to go this way. To get caught so soon. Or at all.”

“Your guy’s a rookie. I made him in thirty seconds. Tell him I said he  won't live very long being that wet behind the ears. And caught doing what? Just what ARE you doing?”

She sighs. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“This isn’t the time to talk about this. Not with little ears around. If I can get Kyle to watch the kids later, would you come over? You and Esme?”

“I want her kept out of this. Whatever it is.”

“It involves both of you.  ALL of you.”

“Are you a threat?” To her or my kids? Are we going to walk in there and find out you have a bunch of guys waiting to ambush us? Because if that's what you're planning…”

“I’m not a threat to anyone.” she assures him. “I’m not here to hurt you. Or Esme. Or the kids. I’m here to help. Or at the very least, keep things from escalating.”

Tyler frowns. “Things? What things?”

“I work for Neysa Rav.”

“Saju’s wife?”

“I know everything. I know you are and what you did and I know about Dhaka. All of it. This wasn’t supposed to get out. It was supposed to stay quiet.  It’s the way she wanted it. On the down low unless things became bigger and more problematic than they currently are.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Neysa is in hiding. With her son. She’s been receiving threats. Legitimate, serious threats. From people associated with Ovi Mahajan Senior.”

Tyler shakes his head incredulously. “What the fuck…?”

“Your name was brought up. Along with your wife and your kids. Neysa asked me to come here and watch out for all of you. Me and my people.”

“Are you a merc?”

“Far from it. We’re a private security company. Nowhere near along the lines of being mercs. But we sometimes work hand in hand with them and hire them to do our dirty work.”

“Daddy!” Millie calls from the edge of the water. “Can we go now? I’m hungry. And I gotta pee!”

“Go in the water,” he instructs.

“That’s gross. I wanna go home. I wanna see mommy.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Salena says. “But I promise I’m not a threat. I can prove that later when you come over. I just ask that you trust me long enough to give me the chance to show you; who I am and what I do. Can you do that?”

Tyler nods.

She gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry it had to come out this way. But it will all make sense. I promise.”

He watches her as she heads through the sand; never looking back over her shoulder as she heads for her house. And he realizes nothing makes sense.

It hasn’t in a long time.

****

“None of this makes any sense,” Esme declares, as she tends to making lunch; grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, and fresh veggies for the kids, leftover chicken cashew stir fry for them. “She’s a spy?”

“I guess if you want to put it that way…”  He stands at the patio door; Addie lying along a forearm as he feeds her,  keeping an eye on Millie and the twins as they play in the sand.  Ovi sits at the patio table, smiling and laughing as Declan crawls and climbs all over him.

He’s tense. It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka; since so many good people had lost their lives...since he’d nearly lost his own...attempting to kid to safety. Yet it still refuses to let them rest; no such thing as true closure. As time went on and no revenge had been sought, Tyler had been optimistic that nothing more would come of that job. And now that there's been threats against him and his family and there’s targets on their backs; he’s on edge. The rage simmering inside of him. Fingers itching for a trigger to pull.

“Well what did she say?” Esme asks. “She called herself that? A spy?”

“She called it private security.”

“So she’s a merc.”

“I didn’t say that,”

She scoffs.  “Private security. Does that sound familiar? It’s what I used to call it when my family asked what you did for a living. And you were a merc. Or still are. I don’t even know anymore. And she’s somehow connected to Neysa and Aarav?”

“Neysa hired her. Or Salena’s company at least.”

“Oh she’s so a merc,” Esme concludes. “That’s merc talk and you can’t deny it. And why would Neysa need to hire people like that in the first place?”

“I told you. Mahajan holds a lot of grudges. He has some scores to settle.”

“Scores to settle against who? A dead man? Saju did what he was supposed to do. He got Ovi out alive. Or helped at least. Ovi’s alive because of him. And you. You think that would be enough to appease the old man. But no. He has to be a total dick bag about things. Can’t he just be happy that his kid is alive and has had a good life.? That he’s grown up to be an amazing young man? Like fuck…” she huffs, and grabs a stack of plates -plastic and regular- from the cupboard. “...what a tool. And to think I question my parenting skills when there’s people like that out there.”

“Makes you realize we’re not doing as bad of a job as we think we are.”

“And the fact he did that to Saju!” She angrily continues. “Threatening his wife and his little boy like that. At first I hated him for doing what he did. He killed the whole team and could have easily have killed me, wanted to kill you…”

“He had his reasons,” Tyler says. “Two very valid ones.”

“...and then I realize he wasn’t evil. He was just trying to save his family. Either one of us would do the same thing.”

He nods.

“The guy was a bad ass and a hero until the bitter end and he should be remembered that way. So fuck Mahajan. Fuck him straight to hell. He makes me rage, I swear.”

Tyler grins. “I can tell.”

“So what’s the issue? It’s been seven years and he’s looking for revenge now? Why?”

“Who knows. He probably couldn’t find her or the kid. Where was she hiding? You talk to her. Did she ever tell you?”

“A year ago she mentioned being in Nepal. It never got brought up again and I never thought to ask. I didn’t need an address; we always just communicated through email.”

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

“Couple weeks ago, I guess. Maybe a bit longer. Shortly before Addie made her appearance. Neysa wanted to know where she could send something for the baby and I gave her the address for the post office box. Just in case...I don’t know...just in case, I guess. She’d sent a picture of Aarav. A graduation photo. Because he’s going into high school.”

“Fuck...already?”

“He’s fourteen now. Same age Ovi was in Dhaka. It’s been seven years. Well almost, anyway. If there was something wrong...if someone was threatening her or threatening us...or both...why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she didn’t trust email either. Did you check the post office box?”

“Two days ago. There was nothing there. Why? You think she could have slipped a note into whatever she sent? No one would be none the wiser if she did. She could have been giving us a heads up without whoever is after her knowing.”

“I don't know what to think,” Tyler admits.

“Do you believe her? Salena?”

He nods. “There’s no reason anyone would lie about all of that.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I haven’t seen anything weird.  And the kids and I are out front all the time and when they’re in school, I always take Declan and Addie for walks down the road. I definitely would have seen something like a sketchy guy with an ear piece, sitting in a Jeep with a busted headlight.”

“I know what I saw. And your daughter saw it too. I wasn’t seeing things and I wasn’t imagining it.”  His tone is more hostile and irritable than he’d intended.

“Okay...baby…” she begins. “...you need to take it down a notch. I am not the enemy here. I didn’t say you were seeing things or that you imagined it. All I was saying is that whoever this guy is? He hasn’t been around any of the times I’ve gone out there. I’d tell you if I saw something like that.”

“Would you? Or would just keep it to yourself because I’d ‘freak out’ and I’d be ‘overprotective’?”

“You are projecting all of your worry and all of your hostility towards Mahajan onto me. And I usually can take it, but I’ve had just about enough with peoples’ crap. I’ve got Nik emailing me and leaving me text messages and voicemails and I’ve got Yaz calling.  And now I’ve got a potential merc for a neighbor and…”

“She is NOT a merc. I'd be able to tell if she was.”

“....and now I have Mahajan bringing his bullshit. After everything we’ve done to care for his kid; raising him like he’s one of our own, giving him a family and a normal life. And now he wants revenge? For what? What have you done to him?”

“Got in Saju’s way. He was supposed to eliminate me. He didn’t.”

“He ended up helping Ovi out in the end so that reason is just pure and utter shit.   He fucked you. Right from the beginning. And you could have easily left his kid in the street...to die...when you found out there was no money. But you didn’t. So he can go fuck himself.”

Tyler grins as he turns away from the window. “You’re in a mood.”

“I hope he knows you’re getting back into things. That you’re getting back into the job. Maybe that will make him think twice about trying anything. If he knows you’re still on your game and knows not to fuck with you, maybe he’ll back off.”

“Or maybe it’ll make things worse.”

“Tyler…” she sighs heavily. “...what ever happened to your whole ‘I’m going to try and be more optimistic’?”

“Pretty hard to be optimistic when this kind of shit is being dropped into your lap all at once.”

“It just makes me so mad,” she says through gritted teeth. “Why can’t it just leave us alone? Dhaka. It’s been seven years almost and it keeps hanging in there and causing all kinds of grief. This should have been over and done with all those years ago. And yet here is. The big, black fucking cloud over our heads.”

He shrugs. “It’s our cross to bare, I guess.”

“Well I’m tired of baring it. I just…” she slams the knife she’s been using to cut the kids’ sandwiches done onto the counter. “...you know what? Go to Mumbai.  Go to Mumbai and go to the prison and kill him. Boom. Done.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, it’s not that easy. I can’t just walk into the place and shoot him in the head.”

“You’ve done sniper work. You’re an amazing shot. Take him out from a hundred yards away.”

“Because that would be easier? Do you know the security they have around that place? I wouldn’t even get within a hundred yards. And I’m not going all the way there to assassinate a drug lord. Do you want me to get killed? Because that’s how I’ll get killed.”

“You’ve handled bigger and better,” Esme argues.

“”I am NOT going to Mumbai.”

“So what then? He sends people here instead?”

“Wait a second…” his eyes narrow. “...you’re not joking about this, are you. You’re actually being serious about this? You want me to go to Mumbai, walk into a prison, and kill Ovi’s old man?”

“Would you rather him come here and kill you? Or me? Or our kids?”

“He can’t do shit. He’s in prison.”

“You know what I mean, Tyler. His people. They’ll come here and they’ll kill you. But first they’ll kill me. And your kids. And probably even the dog.”

“Okay, no one is going to get killed,” he calmly reasons. “You’re overreacting. We don’t know for sure that there were any threats made against me or you or the kids. All we DO know is that our names got brought up. Can we at least see what Salena has to say before you start making plans for me to assassinate a drug lord?

“I’m just...I’m on edge,” she says, as she returns to preparing the kids’ lunch. “And why didn’t you tell me about this sketchy Jeep driver before? Or that you knew Salena was bad news?  I’ve been going over there. With the kids!”

“You wanted a friend.”

“I didn’t want a friend like that! You knew she was lying and that she wasn’t who she says she is and yet you still said nothing. Of all the things I thought you’d tell me, that’s it. What if she’s dangerous?”

“She’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s working for Neysa. Who had to go into hiding because of Mahajan. We’re on the same side.”

“You better get these people of yours...the ones who want to work for you...on board sooner rather than later. Because if shit hits the fan, it would be nice to have them around, don’t you think? This is such crap. Why can’t we have a normal life? Why can’t we just be happy? Why does the universe keep shitting on us?”

“Bet right about now you’re wishing Dhaka ended differently,” he wryly comments.

“Okay...first…” she turns to face him, gesturing in his direction with the knife in her hand. “...let’s not even go there. What happened in Dhaka,, happened. And you’re alive and that’s a good thing. A very good thing. Because I kind of like having you around and so do your kids. Who wouldn’t even be here had you’d died that day. So don’t say stupid like that.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “So what’s the second thing you’re going to say?”

“Now is not the time to be a smart ass, Tyler. I’m just about ready to lose my fucking mind. None of this makes sense and it’s all screwed up and you’re going to wind up back  in that shit hole. I just know it. You’re going to end up back in Dhaka and…”

With Addie still along one arm, he stands behind his wife and lays the other along her collarbone; pressing  kiss to the top of her head. “I am not going back to Dhaka. If anything, I’d end up in Mumbai.”

“Which is just as bad!”

“It’s paradise compared to Dhaka.”

“I swear to God, if you end up back there, on that bridge…”

“”That’s not going to happen,” he assures her. “That is NEVER going to happen.”

“You don’t know that. Because this is so fucked up and  twisted that in some weird it would all make sense. Like it all coming full circle.”

He can feel her body shaking against him; hear the tremor in her voice. “Calm down…” he presses his lips to her temple. “Just take it easy, okay? No one is going back to Dhaka. Or that bridge. That’s just your brain trying to freak you out. There’s no chance of that happening. There’s no reason for me to be in Dhaka. It’d be Mumbai, if anywhere.”

“I hope you’re right. Because if it happens and you do go back there…”

“Stop,” Tyler tightens his hold on her, his lips against her ear. “It’s not going to happen. You need to  trust me when I say that. I’m never going back to Dhaka.”

“You might not have a say in it.”

“I always have a say in it. I choose where I go. Especially now. And I’m going back there. Ever. Okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, as she sniffles noisily and kisses his forearm, body relaxing back against his. “Because Dhaka didn’t take you the first time. And I refuse to  let it try again.”

[thebeatles-world]

Hi I would like the request a sodapop imagine where the reader is pregnant and she scared of sodapop reaction so she starts to avoid him and he gets sad so someone from the gang comes and talks to you and he finds out!!

You have been throwing up a lot for the past few mornings. You thought it was just a stomach bug but also you were clueless enough to go to the store and buy a pregnancy test.

You took the pregnancy test as soon as you got home. You raced to the bathroom, peed on the stick and then you waited for three minutes for the results.

You were very nervous and your eyes suddenly looked at the fainted white lines that appeared on the pregnancy test which made your heart beat faster and your eyes wided.

Pregnant???... I’m pregnant?... you thought as emotions went through you.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for a baby. What about Sodapop? Was he ready to take care of a child you guys created by accident?

You knew it was an accident... it was a night where you both had forgetten to use protection... but you didn’t think much of it since you knew that there was a chance that you weren’t gonna get pregnant right?

But you were wrong.

Now you had to pay for your actions.

You didn’t know what to do. You knew you were still in high school and people were going to be giving you looks but you didn’t care. Let them give you looks.

Also, you knew your parents were going to be super upset with you and they always taught you to save “it.” Until you got married so none of this would happen. But you ended up breaking the rule and had it with Sodapop since you guys have been dating for a long time and you knew you were going to marry him in the future... You wanted to marry him and be his wife forever...

“That’s if he wants to stay with me whenever he founds out that I’m pregnant.” You mumble to yourself, running your fingers through your hair.

A week later...

You started to avoid hanging out with Sodapop and rejecting his calls only because you were very nervous of his reaction. You were nervous to tell him.

Your thoughts and anxiety told you that he wasn’t ready to be a dad or wasn’t ready to take care of a baby.

Sodapop has dropped out of high school not to long ago to work at a gas station so he could help Darry with the bills.

But would it be enough to help you and the baby also? You didn’t wanna give Sodapop a hard time or make him worry about him not having enough money.

You knew you would have to get a job which you didn’t mind ~ anything for your little one inside your stomach. You knew you were excited to meet your unborn child inside your stomach.

“I’m ready for you to come out, whoever you may be. A boy or a girl.” You quietly whispered as you touched your stomach with a smile on your face.

Days have passed and you continue to avoid Sodapop calls and not seeing him at all.

What you didn’t know was that Sodapop had began to worry a lot to where he started getting really upset. He thought that you lost interest and you were going to leave him just like Sandy.

You knew before you and Sodapop started dating that Sandy broke his heart and damaged him.

Luckily you gave him hope that love wasn’t bad and you came into his life and fixed his broken heart that Sodapop thanked you a bunch of times for fixing the broken pieces in his heart and called you a angel that saved him from the darkest place in his life. Now Sodapop couldn’t handle losing you in his life. It would hurt him way more if he lost you more than he lost Sandy.

One day, you got a phone call from Steve and told you that he needed to talk to you. You were very good friends with Steve and you knew you could count on him and even trust him with anything that you told him.

“What’s been going on y/n? I been worried about you. You haven’t been picking up our calls especially Soda’s. I’m also worried for Sodapop because he hasn’t been acting himself lately. He’s been feeling very down and thought he did something to upset you. He’s scared that you’re going to leave him just like Sandy did. Now, I won’t tell him anything that you tell me but you gotta tell him yourself since it’s your decision if you’re planning to leave him or if there’s a problem that you have with him.” Steve said. His voice actually sounded very worried over the phone.

You knew you were going to tell Steve about your pregnancy. You felt a bit comfortable telling him even though he was best friends with Sodapop. But you knew it was up to you to tell him or not.

“The reason why I been avoiding Sodapop is because...” You took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m pregnant Steve. I’m pregnant with his child. I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. Who knows if he’s ready to be a dad? Who knows If he’s ready to take care of the baby with me? Who knows if we both can actually afford it?”

“Y/N, soda is not that kind of guy. He’s not going to leave you as a single mother with a child. He’s very responsible enough to raise a family with you. He will actually be so happy to hear that you are pregnant with his baby.” Steve said which made your anxiety calm down for a bit.

“I -“ Before you were about to say something, you heard your parents coming home which made you tell Steve “I’ll talk to you later.” And hung up the phone.

You didn’t want to let your parents know about your pregnancy. You wanted for Soda to know that you were pregnant first...

You were bummed out that you didn’t get to finish talking to Steve.

But what you didn’t know was that Sodapop found out that you were pregnant through Steve later that day...

Sorry it was crappy guys! I deeply apologize! I been dealing with my mental health a few days ago and stuff has been happening in my life. I apologize for not updating often but please continue to send me requests while I get the rest of requests done! 😘❤️. It truly makes my day just updating for all of you who enjoy reading my imagines and want me to write some more ❤️

[namjoonchronicles]

are you done yet? | nj

↳ GENRE fluff, domestic, slight crack attempts of me being funny

↳ WORDS 3.1k

After hours and hours and hours of working and running errands with only your left hand, Namjoon was pestering you to show your right and refused to open jars unless you did as told.

“Fine!” You roared, “Don’t freak out or anything...”

You pulled your right hand out from behind, hesitantly, inch by inch and then all out at once. He tips his eyes towards it, and slowly drags them back to your face that had turned away from him, avoiding all contact.

“H—“ “I was feeling a little upset and I wanted to get one because it looks pretty so I got one,” you explained, ready to cry because you thought he’d be mad. You know he won’t but, it was not like you to be spontaneous. However, ever since you've known Namjoon you have done questionable spontaneous shit like midnight drives to the next district or walking into a stranger’s wedding and pretending like you know them just to get food. Being in love with Namjoon has thrown your sanity out the window.

“You got henna?” He almost mumbles the words out. Seated on the floor, leaning against the wall facing the kitchen where you were. “Do you hate it?” You purse your lips, breaking out into a pout, big doe eyes looking back at him. Inhaling, he chest rises and falls, lips shaped into an O, and he contemplates, “The last time you got those was for our engagement and then on our wedding and first night together...”

“Yes,” you squeaked sadly and retracting your hand back, hiding it again, “It’s been awhile since I had it done. I just don’t feel pretty these past few months and I thought, I want it on me because then maybe I’ll feel better...”

Namjoon kept silent. He didn’t know what went through your mind half of the time but he would kill to get a look inside. Seeing how you moved away from his sight, in small unassured strides, the back of your head and the ballerina bun you made of your hair, makes him feel twice smaller than he really is.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to put the wet laundry in the dryer and start folding clothes...” you muttered to your chest, one hand over the other, scratching your elbows and walking away with your head down as if you’ve disappointed someone. It was a 5 second decision. You fret to yourself, knees digging on the floor by the machine as you load the wet laundry in the dryer as you told him. Pouting even harder because he could have at least said they look pretty.

I thought it was pretty, you mumbled to yourself.

Namjoon peeks at you from the door frame, hiding like he’s got a crush to hide. The view of your bum by the machine stirring explicit images in his head. Heat whirling in his groin and remembering how those hands travelled down the valley of his chest certainly didn’t help. It got him scratching his nails on the door paint and softly calling out your name.

He blinks repeatedly, batting his eyelashes while you hummed back, uninterestedly.

He bites his lips now, “After laundry, are you busy?”

“I have to vacuum your studio, there’s crumbs everywhere from Taehyung’s visit the other day...” you load everything and pick up the basket to place them by the bathroom door in your bedroom.

“And probably change the bedsheet, why?” You asked glancing over your shoulder at your sheepish husband. He’s acting very strange. Following you around like a lost puppy. Even when you had a phone call, and the vacuum buzzing on, he’s literally an arm’s length away.

The satisfaction of hearing all those crumbs being sucked into the vacuum is honestly everything. Namjoon helps you out by lifting the sofas and removing the chair while the nozzle dives into places you can’t reach. At the same time, your mother is on the phone asking if it’s possible to book a hall two months in advance. That was an easy question.

“For wedding halls, Namjoon booked them a year before,” you looked at him for confirmation and he stands up straight, pressing his lips together, dimples on display, eyes fidgeting out of nerves as if he was caught red handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He nods at your words.

The call ends after a quick gossip on your cousin who almost cut off a wedding because she’s fallen in love with someone else. More on that later. Namjoon, on the other hand had been pestering you with one question on repeat,

“Are you done yet?” After you wiped the windows. “Are you done yet?” After you knock a nail to hang the painting he bought. “Are you done yet?” After you dust the TV cabinet with a duster. “Are you done yet?” After you dry your hands washing the plates.

And now, as you try to write your monthly schedule, he peeks from the duvet of the unmade bed,

“Are you—“ “—I swear to God if you ask me one more time if I’m done yet, I’m going to fucking scream.”

He pouts and retracts back into the blanket.

“I want woohoo...” he yelps from under the covers. “Excuse me?” you shot, spinning away in your chair from the calendar that’s on your desk to your husband that hiding under the duvet asking what you thought you heard. “Woohoo!” He cries and curled into a bowl while yelping, “The last time you got henna on your hand was on our first night and I have a corrupted mind now I have a stiffie because of your pretty hands so please woohoo before I lose my fucking mind!”

You didn’t know he was going to get worked up by that. He didn’t show any signs of vulnerability. Or fixation to it. Or were you disregarding his lingering stares that you felt throughout the afternoon because you just didn’t feel attractive enough. You were silent for too long that it drew Namjoon peeking one eye through the duvet. He is so shy, the shell of his ear is turning red.

“You’re so pretty... And everytime you hold my hand, I feel like I’m gonna cry. Because we both know that you don’t let just anybody hold your hands. And we both know that it was not like that at all in the beginning when you flinch at every physical touch I initiated. I still don’t know how we got married...”

He was right. He was so right.

Marriage didn’t come easy. It almost didn’t happen. When the day comes, both of you were so busy catering to guests. Making sure everyone feels cozy and getting the food delivered on time. Maybe you should have hired an event manager but truth be told, you wanted complete control. Namjoon’s only area of control was the bookings, financials and desserts. You thought it was fitting because he was more of a sweet tooth than you. Setting the namecards, and translating back and forth in your native language and his, to make sure everybody knows where they’re supposed to be had made both of you tired beyond belief. The constant questions and curious eyes were bouncing back and forth with language barriers. Namjoon sat plopped on the dining platform, by the stairs, with lunch for both of you and your families later. You joining him and passing him a bottled water.

“It’s like BBMAs all over again...” he lulled. You covered his hand with your own and gave it a firm squeeze. Because what else can you say in that situation? Your assurance comes in physical touches. And it took Namjoon by a subtle surprise. He moves his hand and thumbed your knuckle with a faint smile on his face.

“Remember back then, no matter what, you wouldn’t let me hold these?” He chuckles softly through his nose. “And I let you settle with a pinky hold because that was as much as physical affection I was comfortable with? Yes, like how can I forget the most awkward hand holding of all time?” You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. “We’ve evolved...” you heard him say.

And how true was that. Falling in love with Namjoon felt like coming home. Like all the puzzle pieces has come to life and found themselves. And the stars are transfixed, conspiring this to happen. Namjoon felt like coming home. A home, away from home.

“I can’t help thinking that we’re forgetting something really important...” you swim in the touches that are his and the warmth that envelopes you from within when Taehyung suddenly knocks on the wooden frame, to say,

“Uhh guys?? The actual wedding?”

“Fuck.” You cursed and immediately after, Namjoon comments, “I knew this was going to happen.”

With an exasperated sigh from the end of the hall, was best man, Yoongi, beginning with, “Let’s get these two idiots so we could be home, earning a glare from his wife, “I could be home.”

It was Jungkook running to rescue.

Jimin trips over air to pass Joon the wedding ring. Bloodshot eyes and twitching eyebrows.

With utmost concern and brotherly love, Namjoon asks, “You okay?”

The younger lad didn’t nod or blink and possibly wasn’t breathing when he muttered out, “Yes. I’ve had 23 cups of coffee and no sleep since you told me to pick this up.” Drilling stares into the wedding ring as he held them out for Namjoon to take.

“That was a week ago,” Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jimin’s lips were drying, lids twitching and caffeine wasping around the air he’s in.

Jungkook barges in through the groom’s dressing room with colors drained out his face and limbs to grumble out loud, “...if I have to hear one more dad joke from Seokjin hyung, I'm shoving the microphone down my throat.”

Everyone is urging Namjoon to hurry up. There are four boys surrounding him, making sure his belts and vests are in place, hair neat and blazers ready by the racks for the wedding. But quick is quick enough, it seems, from all the fatigue expressions and impatient sighs escaping his close friend’s lips. What else could go wrong, right?

Taehyung fits his head through the door gap and blinked rapidly while everyone fussed all over Namjoon, the groom. If you need another confirmation because everyone's in their suit and ready to be wed off, he stammers the words out, “so uhhh, you know how it feels to grab air in a cookie jar that it just traumatizes you so you don't look at any cookie jar the same way?”

Jungkook frowns at him and paying no more than 2 seconds of a glance over him, “What are you going on about...”

“Which brand.” Hoseok sprung his head up from tying Namjoon’s laces. Taehyung mentions the brand and momentarily coos over his favourite biscuit by the brand and totally forgetting why he was here in the first place.

Yoongi fixing Namjoon’s belt, gets increasingly impatient with all the chit chat so he goes, “What cookie jar. I asked you to find the bride.”

“Oh yeah! I’m getting there. So uhh i went to fetch her and I opened the door and she wasn’t there,” Taehyung tattles, gave his brothers a lopsided smile, rocking his body back and forth like a toddler.  

Everyone thunders, “WHAT?!”

Namjoon shakes his head, tucking his shirt in, “oH HELL NAW NOT TODAY...”

Taehyung resumes, “That’s an hour ago actually. I’m too scared to look again.”

Jungkook mutters curses under his breath like a disappointed father of the bride. As they all scurried out in their best suits, vests and whatnot, they passed by Seokjin who is entertaining the guests, standing on the altar as the appointed emcee. Well, last minute appointed emcee.

Seokjin covering the microphone and hissing Jungkook’s name. Urgency blares through his face as his ears turning red at the silence and awkward cough from the audience. He growls through his gritted teeth, and grinding jaws,

“What the fuck is going on.”

“We’re looking for the bride.” Jungkook begins to chew his lips and the insides of his cheeks till it made dimples out on display. He is anxious and he couldn’t hide it.

“Where the FUCK is she!” Seokjin thundered in hushes.

“We don’t know. Try to tell more jokes and keep them entertained while we look,” Hoseok spoke in haste.

“I’m running out of dad jokes!” Seokjin groaned.

“You. Can. Do. It. Fighting!” Jimin brings two balled fists and puffed his cheeks with cutesy while he could feel Seokjin would rather dig a hole underneath him right now to be buried in. Maybe recite his own eulogy while he’s at it.

Everyone spreads out. Jungkook’s long legs lunges out the wide field. Wearing a frown on his handsome and delectable face. Hoseok looking through every door in the hall and calling your name before each room, even stumbled upon a couple playing hooky in one. Namjoon and Yoongi searched the cafeterias and dining hall, both wearing anxiety on their sculptured faces. Taehyung is supposed to be following Jungkook but he got distracted by a pretty flower and took a picture of it. Okay, let’s be real, several pictures of it. Heck a damn gallery. And Jimin being the only one who claps and laughs at Seokjin’s jokes, falling back in his chair with tears in his eyes. While Seokjin... well, he’s managing.

By then, Yoongi’s wife begins tapping wildly on her phone into the chatroom they share, because she might have an idea on where you could and might be.

Mrs. Min: Guys I think she’s tending to Hammsi, I’ll lead her away once I found her and she’s reassured him... Yoongi: Hammsi? Her cactus? Her echeveria succulents? Mrs. Min: He’s very important to her... Namjoon: Isksjskdjdkkdksjs Namjoon: Am I not important to her???

Namjoon is (furiously) typing... Taehyung is typing...

Namjoon: really? Tending her first boyfriend on our wedding day Taehyung: I chime in bc i saw joon’s chin out from across the fountain view Taehyung: whats happening people Taehyung: oh

Mrs. Min was right. You were watering the little cactus, affectionately named Harmssi.

“I’ve neglected you haven’t I...” you were pouring water on Harmssi, “No I don’t love you less than I love him, don’t say such things. He has his bonsais.”

It was then Namjoon’s rib got nudged by his friends. Then he got pushed into the little nursery by the hall, forced to coax his wife out her affairs with her cactus.

“I can’t believe she’s late for our wedding because she’s talking to Hammssi,” Namjoon straightens his vest and neatens his hair. As if he needed to. “Take it out on the honeymoon,” Yoongi hissed from behind him and went to hiding when you turned around. Namjoon slapped a smile as if he was there alone all along. He waves the boys away and they scurried. Except Taehyung. Who had to be dragged away.

“Hey booboo,” Namjoon starts with a pet name, hoping you haven't changed your mind about marrying him. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling the wedding am I?” You placed Hammssi on his little stone, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon. “Wha—No! We’re totally fine, they can wait a few more minutes,” Namjoon adds a nervous cackle at the end hoping he hasn’t fucked it up yet. “It’s just,” you paused, thumbing your echeveria leaves and that one tiny sprout still growing, “Hammssi had been with me for so long and he’s heard many stories about you and all the things we did... like he’s my best friend whom I check on and greet every morning and the one I say goodnight to before I sleep, and it just dawned on me that how things are going to change now.”

Namjoon’s palpitating heart begins to soften when he’s heard your reasons on being here instead of the altar. You were always stuck with one sided love for so long that you begin to be afraid of falling. You poured your heart and soul to little potted green friends because they never disappoint. Like humans do.

And it made sense to him because that’s what he felt too. To his bonsais. Nurturing is love too, you know.

“Apart from giving kisses to actual lips, and someone who can verbally speak back to you, nothing much is going to change. It doesn’t have to...” Namjoon trudges forward in small lunges, hands behind his back, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I’m all in, and I’m afraid,” you watched your hand being held in his and he presses kisses on each of your knuckles while screwing his eyes shut. “What if one day you decide that I’m not good enough? What if one day you wake up and realised you don’t love me anymore? What do I do then? Where do I go with all this love?” “You come home...” he said, in murmurs, eyes glancing down at you, as he towers over your entire height, “And you remind me that we’re each other’s home. You yank me by the arms and you show me that I belong to you.”

The henna on your hand that he traces sensually, and stamped a lingering kiss on, that simple gesture signifies his ultimate devotion to you. With this kiss, he surrendered.

“Can we please get married now? If I had to deal with another year of complete abstinence I’m going to lose my mind.”

Present day, six years of marriage and nothing changes. He runs his fingers through his luscious locks of hair, sweaty forehead and slick chest, leaning against the headboard while you drew random shapes round and round his perky nipples.

“I told you we didn’t have to change the sheets yet,” he sighs, head fell thud on the wood behind him and a kiss on your hair. Your henna fits well on his clawed, naked chest with some bruises blossoming as the time ticks by.

“You think they’re pretty?” You held your hand out so you both could see the designs. “They’re pretty because you wore them, remember that...” he takes them and zooms his face to your nails next, “Have they always been that long?” “Yeah, if I shortened them more, it’ll bleed... why?”

“RIP my skin then, I guess...” he mewls.

The first thing he said on the night you spent together after the wedding, that still lingers in your head when you took more than 2 minutes to take out a block. You are probably the only girl in the world that at your horniest hours, chose to play Jenga on your first night with your fully wedded husband. Namjoon was resting on his stomach while you played your turn, getting bored out of waiting,

“Are you done yet?” “Nope... okay now I am.”

Namjoon knocks those Jenga tower down to the floor cold, and

“Whoops.” “You did that on purpose!” “Guess I gotta make out with you now. What a tragedy.” He crawls on all four, in your lap, sneering above you.

We’re definitely done, now.

.

.

.

copyright (c) 2019 namjoonchronicles, do not repost -- I know I haven’t been writing a lot, and thank you for being this patience... this story was birthed by a conversation I had with @ayixha a while ago. I had lots of bad days now, and this conversation made me smile and thought of sharing them with you lovely friends

[miraculoussage]

like siblings - bubbler

Rating: G Pairings: Marinette & Adrien, Ladybug & Chat Noir (No romance) Length: ~ 850 words Type: Episode rewrite

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

When Nino tries to throw Adrien a birthday party, Marinette isn’t surprised that Gabriel was against it, thinking he was just being protective; his wife had disappeared, after all, he was probably desperate to keep Adrien safe. But finding out that he called Nino a bad influence? That his words got Nino akumatized?? Marinette suspected there was something worse than over-protectiveness. Seriously, what man calls a 13 year old that he’s a bad influence?? 

Plus, that bag of broken glass didn’t even get his own son a present! Who does that??? The gift that Natalie gave him “from his father” was clearly chosen last minute with no thought to what Adrien actually liked, and the writing on the gift tag was clearly a poor forgery of Gabriel’s signature. He wouldn’t stop telling Marinette how much he loved the scarf she made him, though, so Marinette was glad he got at least one meaningful gift he liked.

And when Adrien tells her, later, that he felt guilty about how his father treated Nino, Marinette got mad. How was Gabriel raising his kid that he felt guilty about what his father did?? It wasn’t pleasant to think about. She gave Adrien a lesson about guilt and fault that day, making sure that he knew that whatever Gabriel does is his own decision, and not Adrien’s fault. She also taught him about personal space and how it’s okay to say no if someone is trying to get in his space; as Ladybug, she’d seen how uncomfortable he was when he was dancing with Chloe.

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Meanwhile on the other side of the mask, Chat Noir was disappointed that the only way he’d been given a party was because of an akuma. He wanted to have fun, he really did, and Plagg almost convinced him to go hang out for a bit. But it wasn’t responsible, and he was trying to live up to the expectations he set for himself, to be someone Ladybug could be proud of, so he got to work.

He went around the mansion to approach from the street to avoid suspicion, and saw Ladybug coming in hot. He waved for her attention, hidden behind the wall around the courtyard. They found a place to hide where they could see the Bubbler, and put their heads together to formulate a plan. It was almost too easy. Ladybug sneaked around to behind the Bubbler, and Chat Noir hopped down from his hiding place. 

“Bubbler! You look like you’re having fun! Who’s the party for?” he asked with a grin, definitely distracting the Bubbler, but not approaching in attack mode. Stay casual, stay calm, pretend you want to party; and that wasn’t difficult, because he DID want to party, just preferably not like this. 

As he grabbed Chloe’s hand and twirled her around (with her complaining the whole time), Ladybug’s yo-yo dropped down from above quietly, sneaking into the handle of the bubble wand on Bubbler’s back, and yanking it to her before he could notice. 

“Hey!” he shouted, but the bubble wand was already snapped over Ladybug’s knee, and he fell forward, disoriented as Papillon’s power left him. A quick purification, and Chat Noir was helping him stand up. “What happened?” 

“It seems like you were upset over not being allowed to throw your friend a party,” Chat Noir said, as if he didn’t know that to be the completely true and exact answer. “It was a kind sentiment! I’m sure your friend will be grateful that you care enough to get akumatized over this.”

“His dad called me a bad influence,” Nino said, sounding more annoyed and tired than actually angry. “I don’t think that guy was ever a kid. It’s like he just popped into existence as a fully grown stuck-up, angry, cold-” He waved his hands in exasperation, searching his brain for a word to use, “glass of lemon juice!” 

Chat Noir laughed, but it only felt half-hearted. Hearing those things about his father felt bad, but he knew that it was an apt description. “Maybe try to throw a secret party for your friend, disguise it as a study group or something,” he suggested, hoping Nino would still try to celebrate.

Ladybug walked over as Nino headed home, still seeming kinda bummed. “Some party, huh?” she asked, tone light but kind of strained. “I’d probably feel the same as him if my friend’s parents wouldn’t let them have a birthday party. You only get one a year!” 

Chat Noir grinned. As usual, Ladybug was proving herself to be empathetic and kind. “You’re right, LB! Say, when’s your birthday? Wait, don’t tell me, secret identities. Maybe it’s today! Wouldn’t that be weird? Happy possible-birthday, Bugaboo!” 

“Happy possible-birthday to you too, Chaton,” she laughed, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get out of here. That fight wasn’t difficult or long, but I’m sure people are worried about the both of us.” She turned away before she could see Chat Noir’s smile turn sad, but he said farewell to her as they both parkoured away. 

[ofreligion]

hi everyone !! my name is reed, chaotic energy queen, owner of a single braincell (only 33% of the time), and 1/2 of the admin team at covingtonhqs. i live in the est timezone, use they & she pronouns (pls alternate these as much as u can, thank u mwah), am 19 years old, and a hot mess disaster. however, you’re not here to hear about me, you’re here to read all about my daughter, michal. so, without further delay, click the read more to learn all about the one, the only, michal glickman.

name: michal glickman gender & pronouns: cis female, she & hers age: 21 major & year: environmental studies major with a dual concentration in toxic plants and environmental advocacy, fourth year faceclaim: diana silvers occupation: floral apprentice at foxglove florists

everyone has a moment where they first find the place that they belong, michal’s just happened to be in the middle of bum fuck nowhere

bresheit––in the beginning

born michal אביבה glickman (pronounced michal aviva glickman) at 6:00am on april 22nd, 1998 to two loving parents; rabbi adam עקבא (akiva) glickman and deborah ברכה (bracha) glickman nee goldstein esq

name meanings time !

michal: biblical michal was king saul's daughter and first wife of david. in the biblical narrative, michal chooses the welfare of david over the wishes of her father. when saul's messengers search for david in order to kill him,  michal sends them away while pretending she is ill and laid up in bed. she lets david down through a window and hides teraphim in his bed as a ruse. although she risked her life in helping him, after he leaves the court, he makes no attempt to contact her. after michal was returned to david, she criticized him for dancing in an undignified manner, as he brought the ark of the covenant to the newly captured jerusalem in a religious procession. for this she is punished, according to samuel, with not having children until the day she dies.

אביבה (aviva): a modern hebrew name meaning "springtime". it is related to the name of the israeli city tel aviv, as well as to the jewish holiday passover which occurs in the month of nisan, previously called aviv.

glickman: the name glickman is a proud symbol of ancient jewish culture. it is taken from the yiddish word glik, which means luck.

more about her parents !

michal’s dad works as hemlock’s one and only resident conservative rabbi at temple shir shalom, located about a fifteen minute walk from the glickman family home. (i define conservative judaism as a happy medium between reform ~laid back judaism~ and orthodox StRiCt judaism, a conservative jew would probably punch me for saying that). 

michal’s mom works as a corporate lawyer at some ugly mean bank that hates the environment and we don’t stan at all

they didn’t meet on j date but they met via j date’s predecessor, their grandmothers being best friends

the past !

the glickmans have been a member of high society in hemlock since their matriarch, michal’s great grandmother hadassah, came over during the holocaust. she immigrated easily, fitting right in with the crowd. an avid follower of practical kabbalah, a jewish mystic tradition concerning the use of magic, her uniqueness made her quite the popular person, and people began to pay large sums of money for her to interpret their dreams and read their palms.

hadassah was the last follower of kabbalah in her line, and her son cut off ties to the mystic tradition as soon as he was able to choose his own religious practices. 

still the past but less far in the past !

michal’s upbringing was pretty standard for a white rich kid in a white rich town. she was brought to parties and events she didn’t want to go to, forced to wear cute dresses and shoes and things that she felt weird wearing. she wanted to run around outside, she didn’t want to eat gross appetizers at boring events and pretend like she wanted to be there. 

as the years she spent on this earth grew, so did the amount of donor events and fundraising efforts and pairs of fancy shoes she owned. despite her expressing to her parents multiple times that this was not who she was, that these were not things she wanted to go to, they refused to listen to her and continued to drag her to the events against her will.

while they took care of her financially, they didn’t take care of her spiritually. she has a weird complicated relationship with her childhood, as it could have been so much worse, and in the grand scheme of things she was so lucky, but there were so many things she wished she could have done like go hiking and play basketball and be allowed to be herself, and missing out on that has really stopped her from letting her true self shine through, even now.

the label !

now, you may be asking yourself, “reed, how on earth does michal fit this label?” well, let me tell you!

when i hear high heels, i think of an old pair of dress shoes that you probably should’ve gotten rid of a while ago. they’re scuffed, a bit too small for you, and have lost the majority of their shine. michal is trapped in this idea of what her parents want her to be, and while she still squeezes into those high heels for important holidays and events that she is still forced to go to, it’s something that she does begrudgingly, and because she doesn’t want to start conflict.

vayikra––and he called

on a retreat to charles mound, the highest point in illinois, during her sophomore year of high school, michal experienced what it was like to feel the presence of god. she took her shoes off, laid down in the grass, and closed her eyes. it was the first moment she was certain of anything

ever since then, michal’s point of view on spirituality and religion has changed drastically, and she has become much more in touch with the world around her. she practices her judaism through gardening, leading environmental protests (sometimes against her mother’s company, she’s got no clue how she’s managed to avoid getting caught for that), and going on lots of hikes and adventures

it was a moment of clarity for her, her first opportunity to really be who she wanted to and needed to be

bamidbar––in the wilderness

so now, she’s stuck. she knows exactly what she wants to do and who she wants to be, yet is afraid of coming clean to her parents, who currently think she is studying economics on a pre-law track. 

she has this kind of double life that she leads, she’s one person at school and another person at home, and as much as she hates it, she fears being cut off from her parents if she refuses to do what they ask of her

headcannons

taurus sun, pisces moon, taurus rising

she was born on earth day in case that was lost on u adjshjkfdhgfd

wants to be a park ranger when she grows up

very socially awkward and bad @ most human interactions, but is also super witty once u get to know her

hasn’t been single/not actively pursuing a or being pursued for a romantic relationship since she was six 

falls in love extremely easily, leads to her getting her heart broken a lot

bisexual (prefers women & nb individuals, probably like a 4.5 on the kinsey scale)

while she has had a lot of romantic relationships, real friendships are harder for her to make, and finding one that sticks and makes her feel comfortable is something that is so sacred and special for her that she cherishes it

really looks up to melanie, the connections she makes with people, and how confident she is in the person that she is

smokes a lot of weed

extremely anti-shoe, if she could never wear shoes, that is what she would do, but bc she has to wear shoes sometimes she wears tevas and birkenstocks most of the time

has a huge passion for learning and gaining knowledge, would probably have seventeen minors if she could

she wants to visit every national park by the time she turns 30

michal has a catfish named dog!! it’s a hebrew joke bc in hebrew, dog means fish.

wanted connections

exes ! all of the exes ! ending on good terms, ending on bad terms, first love, losing their virginity to each other, right person wrong time, something that was never quite a relationship

friends ! pals ! amigos ! comrades !

other things i FORGOT TO FINISH AND RAN OUT TIME FOR THIS PLS PLOT W/ ME THANK U

[atopearth]

Chrono Cross Part 1 - NPCs living their lives

The music is so nostalgic~~ Anyway, I love how both Chrono Trigger and Chrono Cross kinda start off the game with the MC or someone opening the blinds in their room, it really gives that feel of it’s the start of an adventure!! Okay, it’s so cute how both Crono and Serge’s houses have a mum and a cat lmao, is this the classic MC house? Lol. Omgg I remember the fisherman guy and his gigantic fish, I always thought he was right to be so proud of catching it, I mean it’s literally the size of a house lmaoo. Anyway, did that fish…always wiggle and move?! That’s so scary LOL. It’s pretty interesting how they implement the Record of Fate/save point in the world, like it’s actually a thing in the world and not just something the player uses to save. It sounds kinda scary when the guy says it like that though, like if you forget to record it all down, you’ll lose your past, that’s… frightening. But the thing the girl says is pretty scary too! Like apparently it’s supposed to tell you what to do next, and if the Record of Fate doesn’t do that or you can’t hear anything, it means you have no future! That’s deep and scary! I find it hilarious how she tells you to deal with it by just sleeping though, since you can’t change your fate lol. It’s kinda interesting how the guy outside didn’t go fishing today because the Record of Fate told him not to go, I guess in a way, it’s kinda like a fortune telling thing too? There’s a Toma the Explorer here too?! How the world has changed though! From the great explorer that found the Rainbow Shell to the 14th generation of Toma who is outside gardening for living expenses haha! Lmao at Radius teaching the basics of battle, why did he kill me with Aquaball, revive me and then kill me again?! Hahaha. LMAOO at the grandpa admiring Miki the dancer’s poster even though he’s never seen her dance, he just wants to see her boobs jiggle HAHAHA, I loved it when he said don’t tell grandma lmao. Omg I remember the waitress girl that wants to be a poet! Lmao when she keeps calling the place a run down shack and the chef says she’s fired hahahah. Ooh dang, the poor boy is right that he needed my Komodo scale to make an accessory for Kiki because she might like Lolo instead, like dang Kiki is super happy that Lolo said he’s going to get scales for her, the boy better up his game! I’ll always remember the fisherman who gives you the Shark Tooth he got 10 years ago when he decided to succeed his father and become a fisherman instead of chasing after other aspirations he had, mainly because the him in Another World was quite different to say the least haha. I always love how easy it is to get Poshul to join the party, you literally just give her a bone and she’s like let’s go! Hahaha. LMAO at the barrel who gets annoyed at you constantly wanting an answer and gives you an uplift element hahahaha. Gotta love how passionate Leena is about the Komodo Dragon scale necklace hahaha, it is Serge’s fault for waking up late though, so he should get them for her now since she’s stuck with babysitting kids.

Gotta love how the monster’s name is literally Beach Bum hahahah. Also, I remember chasing that Komodo Dragon!! It used to be so annoying hahaha. Leena is really a sentimental girl huh? I like it though haha. Too bad Serge just disappears into Another World and can’t come back for a while. Lmaooo, did Poshul just ask if Leena spontaneously combusted?! HAHAHA. I nearly died. I don’t remember that line at all! That was hilarious. Anyway, I love how in Another World, the Komodo Dragon jumps you instead of you jumping on it in the Home World lmao, it’s such a cute detail. I find it hilarious how in the cafe, now it’s the grandma staring at the hunk Nikki hahaha. I always found the poem girl interesting, mainly because they both feel like they’re stuck in a random small village not able to really venture the world with the poems they really love, but they possess a really different attitude towards it. In the Home World, even though she’s just a waitress in the cafe, she still holds hope in writing poems and still has the drive and the dream to continue it, whereas here, she gave up on them a long time ago and doesn’t even want to mention it, she’s literally given up on her dreams and doesn’t think it’s realistic. Which may be true, but the way she’s doing it is really just avoiding what she really wants to do, which is saddening. I don’t think I realised but the guy who prays to Mojo instead of becoming a fisherman was actually a friend of Serge’s father! And it was because of what happened 10 years ago where Serge “drowned” that he ended up changing and praying to Mojo instead of becoming a fisherman. I find it saddening though, because you can see how happy the family was in the Home World where they happily talked about their daily life, whereas here, the mother and the wife etc all just talk about how the dad keeps just praying to Mojo and refuses to do anything else in his life, he doesn’t even spend time with Kiki. I always love the Komodo Dragon in “Serge’s Room” that rips you off 100G for resting there lmao. He doesn’t tell you beforehand!! He just let’s you rest and then goes pay up lmaoo. Btw, I really love how even though Chrono Cross has the same “silent protagonist” thing going on, he’s less “bland” than Crono because you can actually assume what he says from the NPC reactions in the dialogue, like they’ll kinda repeat what Serge asked to kinda gather what Serge says without you knowing. So he has more personality than Crono haha. It also helps that Serge has more dialogue choices. It’s pretty interesting how much the people rely on the Record of Fate. The girl in the front of the line at the chief’s house in Arni explains it really well, the Record of Fate tells her what decisions she should make, so there’s no anxiety or fear about what to do. It’s kinda interesting yet crazy that this thing is basically relied upon for their whole lives, it’s also kinda scary to think that if they don’t record things down, they’ll essentially like disappear from this world with no records of themselves. It’s kinda saddening that Radius isn’t the chief here, but aside from being stingy, Gonji doesn’t seem too bad?

Omggg Peppor is so slack! He literally kicked Poshul off the cliff!! I forgot who told Karsh and them that Serge will appear here, but I assume it’s Lynx? Anyway, I always love Kid’s first appearance, she’s so cool haha. I always feel bad rejecting Kid’s company here since she obviously really wants to travel together, but Leena!! Haha. It’s nice that even though this isn’t the same Leena he grew up and spent most of his life with, she still feels a certain connection to him.. It’s really sweet how Kid tells Serge to find a place to rest up since it’s getting dark and dangerous to stay out even though he just rejected her company. Lmaoo at Poshul coming back by herself hahaha. Mojo jumping down and saying he’ll join Serge and them is so random, at least the guy got it right that it’s some sort of agent of love and courage lmao. It’s just…maybe it might seem like he wasted 10 years, but his family have waited for him these 10 years to turn around and face his life, so I’m sure it’s not too late, he can still be a proper father, husband and son! I always found Skelly to be a really interesting character. Mainly because he’s a character you literally have to piece back together by finding his body parts around the world lol. I still remember his story though, I found it really saddening yet sweet. I find it hilarious that he was howling this whole time trying to find someone “dead” like Serge to help him. I love the newbie soldier that warns you to not go down and get the Big Egg because the Dodo is gonna kill them, I found it so wholesome how he was so worried about Serge’s safety and asked if he was really okay haha. I kinda feel bad for stealing the egg but the egg isn’t really the Dodo’s anyway haha. Anyway, I love how silly Solt and Peppor are, they’re such a highlight. Their theme soundtrack is so funky and jumpy, I always loved hearing it, so iconic haha.

Termina is such a great town with such a good song! Like it really reflects the upbeat and cool town it is. Omg I totally get that lady doing her laundry, it’s like, sunny weather is great, but sometimes you need rain too, it’s hard hahaha. Lmao at Lisa’s (Leena’s friend) father I assume who likes to gather mushrooms, I love how when he finds a secret path to get into the Viper Manor, he automatically assumes it’s because Master Viper likes to gather mushrooms too hahahah, yes, he’s a good lord just because of that lol. Van’s father’s story is pretty terrible. Van laments and wonders whether his father really used to be an artist back in the day considering how he’s so obsessed with money now, but really, maybe if he listened to the maid, he might understand his father better. His father is still bad for neglecting the kid and stuff, but honestly it’s understandable. When he was an artist, he was poor, so when his wife got sick, he couldn’t do anything but watch her pass away, powerless to helping her, so now he earns money to make sure that his son can stay healthy and be taken care of if anything happens. I just hope he spends more time with Van, promises are important to keep. LMAO when you do the fortune telling and it’s all serious and stuff when it comes to the future of Serge and Kid, but when you choose Leena, the fortune teller just says that she won’t get a boyfriend for a long time hahahahaha, that’s so slack. Despite how cool Termina seems though, racism is definitely rampant against demi-humans, whether it be the way people treat demi-human workers or how that guy has a freaking live mermaid in an ice cube, like what?! I always find it so funny how you can take Greco’s weights and it makes you run around really slowly because it’s heavy hahaha, it’s so random and silly. And the new Glenn! He’s not as cool as Frog but I always liked the Glenn in this game because he was such a kind and gentle soul. He lived in Dario’s (his dead but capable brother) shadow but he’s good for his own merits imo. I guess in a way, it parallels the story of Frog and Cyrus but instead of Glenn being truly as capable as Frog, I think Glenn instead found his own strengths as a person, and it also intertwines with Riddel’s story. I like Riddel~

Honestly, I like Nikki and want to get him, but his path is boring compared to Guile’s so I always end up climbing the cliff with Guile haha. And don’t even talk about Pierre’s route into Viper Manor loll, it’s so anticlimactic, it’s boring lol. To be fair though, I really enjoy the different variety because I have actually played the game three different times to see the different paths haha. I have to admit though, I love how the great idea the guards have to protect the manor from intruders is to constantly throw rocks down at them LOL, like where does all this energy come from?! Hahaha. Omgg that dragon feeding game, I am so bad at it lol, I had to get my bro to help me do anything more than 10 times hahahaha. I feel like if you suck at it (like me), the 40 times one is the most worth doing because it gives you RecoverAll which is really good! Lmao at falling through the trap hole, I remember that~ So silly of the guards to just open up the cage because Kid taunted them hahaha. I remember Orcha!! I love how he’s chopping carrots(?) and they’re just flying everywhere lol! It’s saddening that the evil guys did something to him though. I find it so funny yet silly that Glenn can’t remember the password to get through the main door and needs to write it down on the wall lol! Thanks for the tip hahaha. The Boxer Brothers aka the big and small mimic duo are so cute! I keep hitting the wrong one and don’t get any items though😭 OMG hahaha, I love how the password to get through one of the doors is “silence” because, dang, my indecisiveness helped me get through LOL. I couldn’t decide which one sounded less stupid of an answer and right when I was like whatever, the guard says staying silent was correct hahahah. LMAO at the treasure chest in Karsh’s room. Initially, he tells you that you can’t open it, but when you keep trying to open it, his dialogue changes and he counts how many times you keep trying, and when you do it for the 20th time, he gives up and just let’s you have the accessory inside the chest hahahaha. It was so cool. Too bad for Zoah’s chest, you can’t get it until he joins you haha. Marcy is a crazy girl as usual haha, she deals so much damage!! I know she’s the highest ranking dragoon (apparently) among the three since Dario is dead now, but dang. As for what the prophet said, it’s not anything I’m not aware of since he’s really just telling him that there was a 50/50 chance for Serge to continue existing 10 years ago and the two worlds kinda reflect how he survived in one and died in the other, but now what he exists in this world where he has died, there might be something more to it? I always found it really evil of Lynx to throw that dagger at Kid (who was holding Riddel hostage so that everyone could escape), it was pretty dirty. It’s kinda weird to hear Lynx call Serge the Chrono Trigger now haha.

For now, I’m really enjoying my replay! It’s honestly been so long~ The music is as beautiful as I remember, and even though the graphics can be rather jarring with the crappy quality it shows up as on the TV, it’s still all right haha. It gave me a headache before but I think I’m getting more used to it now haha. Gameplay has never been something I cared about too much, but I honestly find the Chrono Cross battles so nostalgic. However, the highlight of the game for me is still the NPC dialogues, they’re just so full of life and vibrancy! Like, I can actually feel that they are living their own lives in their own way, and maybe it’s not always the “correct” way of life, but it is their life. Whether it be the grandpa looking at Miki’s poster or the poem girl, a lot of the NPCs are ones I’ve remembered for years and years because they made some sort of impression on me and I think that’s what makes me love Chrono Cross so much.

P.S 500th post apparently! Yay to more!~

[spartanguard]

always pass on what you have learned

so @optomisticgirl found this twitter thread and told me I had to write Captain Cobra in the same situation. It took a little bit but here it is: 1.9k of Captain Cobra/dad!Killian fluff. slightly canon-divergent (Henry hasn’t left yet when Hope is a baby, but he IS an adult—so if you don’t like reading about him doing adult things, even just in passing, back away).

summary: Henry had a visitor last night. she hasn’t left yet and it’s morning. will Emma notice? or will they hide away and make a break for it? Killian is eagerly watching (with his sidekick, baby Hope) to find out.

It was a testament to Killian’s well-honed captain’s eye that he was able to pick out the slight anomaly in the usual prim order, despite the early hour and his sleep-deprived state.

He’d just hit the bottom of the stairs with his teething infant daughter on his hip—who had decided that 4 am was the perfect time to wake up wailing and that 8 am was when she wanted breakfast—when he noticed the unfamiliar pair of shoes sitting at the end of the row of boots and sneakers in the foyer. They weren’t Emma’s style, and certainly were too large for Hope; that left only one option:

“Well, darling. It seems as though your brother’s lady friend spent the night.” Hope babbled back at him in response, green eyes wide. “It looks like today will be more interesting than we thought.”

Henry wasn’t necessarily in trouble or anything; the lad was 18—nearly a man grown. And he’d endured enough lectures from both his mothers on the many modern contraceptives that he would have that end of things covered (and if not, then he was old enough—and had a strong enough support system—that he’d be able to deal with the consequences). Emma would probably be displeased, but she knew she couldn’t stop him. And honestly, they couldn’t say much given that they’d surely done worse—Hope being the evidence of their late-night activities.

So Killian’s curiosity was just that: who on earth had Henry been fucking last night? He hadn’t dated anyone since breaking up with Violet last year. And would she get out past Emma’s notice?

(“Fucking” seemed a crude term to use, but Killian had no other words to describe the sounds coming from Henry’s bedroom as he rocked Hope back to sleep earlier. Lovemaking, it was not.)

He’d just started feeding Hope her favorite squash purée when the stairs creaked, making him pause with the spoon midair. It was too early for Henry to be up on average, but if he was trying to sneak someone out, then maybe…

But it was Emma who blearily shuffled into view, eyes barely open but feet moving on instinct toward the Keurig. “You gonna stare at me or you gonna feed her?” she quipped, as Hope protested the delay in her meal.

“Both,” he replied easily, complying with his daughter’s demands and never missing a moment to ogle his beautiful wife. In the relative silence that followed, the only noises heard were the gurgling of the coffee contraption and Hope’s happy smacking of her mouth as she ate.

No sounds came from the room above, even once the smell of pancakes and bacon filled the house.

“His loss,” Emma concluded with a shrug as she wiped the last bit of syrup off her plate with what was left of her small pancake mountain. She savored her final bite, setting her fork down and leaning back in her chair. “Well, I was going to start working on laundry and cleaning the bathrooms, if you wanna clean this up and keep this one occupied?”

“Sounds perfect.” Hope might be slowly munching on her puffed cereal right now, but once she was loosed, it was a full-time job keeping her from climbing and crawling into places she wasn’t meant to go. Emma had put up some magical barriers, but if the occasional sparks they saw in their baby’s hands were any clue, it was just a matter of time until those became useless.

And he was also extra intrigued to see what Henry and his friend would do now—or if Emma would find them first.

Once the kitchen was cleaned and the puffs devoured (and subsequently cleaned off the floor, where they of course had been stepped on), Killian was keeping Hope occupied in the living room with some toys, trying to get the 11-month-old to take her first steps. Alas, it wasn’t meant to happen for her today, but he did finally hear movement coming from Henry’s room—the creak of the floorboards as two individuals made their way around the space; he had a decent idea of what they were doing.

He could also hear Emma cleaning the bathroom in the next room over. And could see their visitor’s shoes still by the door.

“What do you think, little one?” he asked Hope, pulling her up to standing as she tried to crawl into his lap. “Will your mum discover your brother and his friend, or the other way around?”

Hope’s responding gibberish was as much an answer as he expected—and, oddly, seemed to fit the scenario.

“It seems we’re in agreement, love.”

Nothing developed, though, by the time Emma finished upstairs and then went down to the (now finished) basement to handle laundry. If anyone wanted to make a move, now would be the perfect time; they had a 10-minute window while Emma folded the clean wash.

Killian was reading to Hope from a giant stack of books (mostly from Belle, of course) when finally, footsteps alighted on the stairway. He tried to maintain his focus on the story while watching to see who came down from the corner of his eye—especially since the steps were far too light to be Henry’s.

He had to rein in his gasp when he saw Ava—Henry’s best friend—hop off the landing into the foyer, grab her shoes, then tiptoe back up, not casting a glance his way but clearly trying to avoid being seen. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom shortly followed, to no surprise; it was past 11 am, and no one had a bladder that strong.

His amusement at the whole situation was quickly turning to wonder: why would Henry feel the need to hide a relationship with his best friend? It wasn’t as though she was a stranger; in fact, she was one of Hope’s favorite people. Of all the ways the lad had managed to get in trouble over the years, this was far from anything awful.

Just as he was considering sending Hope after them—neither teen could say no to her adorable face—Emma came back up from the basement and continued on up. The waiting game would continue, though he had to assume it couldn’t go much longer; they were no doubt starving, but far too intelligent to get back to what they’d been doing last night.

By this point in the day, he could only assume the kids were waiting for Emma’s usual afternoon nap with Hope. (She never intended to fall asleep when she put the babe down; but no one begrudged her the rest. Nursing was hard.) That’s what he’d have done, at least; but he also had never quite been in this situation. Before he turned pirate, he was too focused on the Navy to pay much attention to the fairer sex; after, it only helped his reputation to be caught leaving.

Not much later, Emma came to retrieve a drowsy babe from Killian. “Someone’s definitely ready for a nap,” she assessed, scooping the littlest Swan-Jones into her arms. “I’ll be back down soon.”

“Take your time,” he said as he stood to give her a quick kiss, knowing full well neither of them would be seen again for a couple hours.

Silence settled on the downstairs soon, and Killian set about cleaning up the mess of toys in the living room before turning his attentions to the rest of the downstairs—and keeping out an ear for any other happenings.

He was dusting the frames that hung above the fireplace when two careful sets of steps made their way down the stairs. There they were. But he remained focused on the task at hand, letting them slip out seemingly unnoticed. They were good kids, they weren’t doing anything bad—they were just being ridiculous.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the door quietly swing open and Ava creep out. Once she was out of sight, he turned his head and managed to catch Henry’s eye, who evidently was watching to make sure they weren’t seen.

Henry paused as they stared at each other and gulped, which just made Killian smirk. And give him a wink. Henry gave an awkward nod—both knowing they’d chat later—and followed his (girl?)friend out.

Several hours later, Emma was upstairs giving Hope a bath while Killian prepped dinner for the adults when Henry returned. (Emma had been a little bummed that Henry left without saying goodbye, adding that “he should have just invited Ava over”; Killian held his tongue.)

“Smells good,” Henry commented as he entered the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge. “New recipe?”

“Sort of; still trying to replicate my mother’s,” Killian replied as he stirred the sauce, to go with the pasta that was cooking on the next burner. “Should be done in a few. I’d imagine you’re rather starved after the day you’ve had.”

He glanced at Henry from the corner of his eye; the lad had stopped in the middle of opening his can of soda and was turning a color that matched the tomatoes in the pot.

Henry gulped. “Am I...am I in trouble?” he stammered out.

“No,” Killian answered casually; there was no sense in torturing the boy.

“Does Mom know?” he continued, still visibly nervous (but he at least finished popping the tab on his can).

“Does she need to?” Killian tossed back. “I was always under the impression you and Ava were just friends.”

“We are...I think...I’m not sure.” Henry took a sip of his drink and leaned against the adjacent counter. Killian silently looked over at him, letting him continue. “We’re just kind of fooling around, I guess. Like, we like each other, but with her going to UMaine in the fall and me leaving, we don’t really want to get super involved. Does that make any sense?”

“Aye, it does; that’s tricky.” Killian remembered a similar feeling on the outset of things with Milah—but was pretty sure Henry didn’t want to hear the sordid details of his relationship with his grandmother. (They talked about her, obviously, but Henry mainly wondered what she was like, and Killian was more than happy to oblige.) “Just...try to make sure no one’s heart gets broken. And make sure you’re being safe.”

Henry’s blush had been fading, but then it returned in full force. “We are,” he insisted. “Wait—you heard us?”

“Much to learn, you have, young padawan.”

The Star Wars reference drew a chuckle from Henry, but he quickly tossed back, “Yeah, well, it’s not like you’re a Jedi Master at being quiet either.”

“On the contrary, Master Henry—I don’t let anyone hear anything I don’t wish them to,” he countered with a wink.

“Eww! Seriously? Come on, Killian!”

Killian was laughing quietly at the reaction when Emma joined them. “‘Come on, Killian’ what? That smells good,” she added, echoing her son.

“Oh, nothing—he’s just trying to make me lose my dinner before I even eat it.”

Emma playfully swatted Killian’s shoulder. “Be nice! Especially since Prince Henry has finally graced us with his presence.”

The conversation fell into banter and discussions of plans for the week ahead, as normal as ever. No reference was made to the previous night by either man, and Emma still seemed oblivious; Killian and Henry were fine to leave it that way, and it was never mentioned again.

But Killian did notice that Henry used a bit more discretion with visitors from then on.

And he may have been a bit on the loud side when he and Emma made love that night. It was only fair.

thanks for reading! tagging @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @flipperbrain @sherlockianwhovian @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells 

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

So my sister has been talking about a pain in her side for the past week. She only started talking about it recently but apparently has been dealing with it for a month. She just didn't say anything.

It's gotten so bad that she can't take it anymore. Nothing stops the pain. Not crouching, or pushing on it. No pain meds we have are able to even alleviate it a bit. It's just gotten worse.

Too far back to be the appendix, to high up to be the ovaries. It's the kidney area.

She was rushed to the hospital hours ago. 5 hours later and she's only just been see to by a nurse who wanted all the information she had about what's going on, including the fact that she hasn't been able to urinate for 2 days and when she tries it hurts too much and nothing happens.

And said nurse proceeded to go, "Well I don't know what to do if you can't give us a urine sample."

ISTFG my already incredibly low faith in medical professionals gets lower and lower with every passing day. They won't give her anything for the pain despite knowing her list of allergies. They won't do anything else. Apparently they just 'don't know what to do'.

She in such agony that she's terrified all the other people in the waiting room, many of whom have demanded for her to be seen before them.

Bethy doesn't like the hospital. Or doctors. She'll avoid them as much as possible. This isn't a joke. It's not some 14 year old wanting attention. When she's curled up on the ground, bawling, there's something fucking wrong.

Her friend had to go with her because mom has no mode of transportation. Why, you may ask?

We have 2 cars. 1 is allowed to be on the road and the other isn't. 2 days ago, step-bro and his wife took #1 because they were supposed to go to the store. The store 20 minutes away. They've gone across state lines without permission to bum money off step-bro's grandmother and his wife's parents. They never asked to do any of this with the vehicle in my mom's name. Step-dad had to use #2 despite it not being legal right now. He's not here either.

Mom has no way of being there for Bethy other than calling repeatedly to find out information.

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

Also, the reason Idiot #1 and Idiot #2 are bumming money off of people who have legit cut them from their lives due to them literally overspending on said peoples' credit cards without permission, is because they have no jobs, don't want to have jobs, and don't want to pay their portion of the rent.

They were living here, not on the lease, for 8 months, and barely helped out. The owner just found out a couple weeks ago and raised the rent $300 because of it. She's an old bitch who isn't following Delaware's housing laws and has done nothing but be an asshole. Still, she has a right to raise the rent when people she didn't want here, are here. They're throwing fits about it despite it being their own actions landing them here. They could have moved out any time.

So far they've pulled the:

living-on-her-parents-money-when-they-met-without-permission,

to being-kicked-out-cuz-the-parents-didn't-want-stepBro(a stranger)-living-with-their-daughter,

to moving-back-in-with-dad-cuz-they're-so-unfair,

to-moving-to-their-own-apartment-cuz-jobs-aren't-fun,

to moving-back-in-with-dad-but-us-being-there-against-the-lease-got-dad's-family-evicted,

so now-we-live-in-stepMom's-Uncle's-house-with-them-and-hate-how-they-made-us-get-jobs-again,

to moving-in-with-grammy-cuz-unfun-dad-made-us-get-jobs-again-and-grammy-is-disabled-and-needs-constant-care-so-we-don't-need-jobs-with-her,

to grammy's-sister-found-us-out-and-kicked-us-out-cuz-we-maxed-out-grammy's-credit-cards-so-we-moved-in-with-aunt-Karen-using-some-sob-story-about-how-unfair-grammy-and-her-sister-are,

to aunt-karen-kicked-us-out-because-we-broke-her-things-didn't-work-and assaulted-her-hubby-so-we-moved-back-in-with-dad,

to we're-gonna-try-to-get-pity-from-her-parents-since-we-have-a-baby-now-all-cuz-dad-wanted-us-to-work-to-pay-our-portion-of-the-bills-and-we-don't-like-that.

I am lazy and don't work. I've never pretended to be anything but myself. This means I never stole my mom or dad's car. Never stole my terminally ill grandmother's credit cards and then lied about what I used them for. Never hopped from house to house for the past 7 years, bumming off people all over not wanting to get a job. I've never pretended to be disabled to get benefits from the government. I've never lied on official documents to get more money from the government. I've never been dishonest about who I am.

The list goes on. It's bad. I'm so pissed off right now.

Mom is actually crying and feels like a horrible mother because the actions of other people made it so she can't be there for Bethy.

[atc74]

Welcome to the Family

Square Filled: First Born

Warnings: Pregnancy, labor pains (not graphic), Rob being an adorable bundle of nerves, emergency surgery, birth of a child, Daddy!Rob

Summary: Baby Benedict makes an appearance a little ahead of schedule and Dad is not ready. 

Pairing: Rob x Angelina (Robelina)

Word Count: 2988

Written for: @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @iwantthedean, my other half, who always knows what I need. I'm so glad I found you. I love being around you. You make it easy, It's easy as one, two, one, two, three, four. There's only one thing, two do, three words four you. I love you. I love you. And also, @hannahindie, her ovaries will never be the same.

Inspired by the song ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ by the Plain White T’s. I heard this in the shower the other day and then played it a few more times. I love how it fits into this story and I imagined Rob sitting there with baby in his arms, telling him/her how much he loves them, how they make everything better and just confessing his love for their baby that is only hours old, but means the world to him already. Also, inspired by true events of the birth of my son in 2008.

This is the latest in my self-indulgent, self-insert series, Say It Like That

“I thought you said we had another week until the baby comes!” Rob was panicking. It would have been kind of adorable if I wasn’t in pain. I had been having contractions off and on all day. When they hit ten minutes apart and my water broke, I first called my doctor, then I gave Rob the news.

“I said the baby was due in one week,” I grunted, breathing through another contraction. “Babies come when they want to, whether we are ready or not.”

“But, we’re not ready!” Rob was rummaging through a pile of clothes on the chair, looking for something that was semi-presentable to wear to the hospital.

Let’s take a step back for a minute. My contractions are still ten minutes apart, we have a little time.

I was ready. I had been ready since the day I discovered I was pregnant. I was ready when I told my husband on our wedding day that we were expecting. I think I was ready for this the day he proposed -- hell, probably the day we met.

I never thought I would want another child, but Rob changed all that. Still, as excited as he was, he was not ready. The man could put on shows on multiple continents, in several countries for thousands of fans, but he could not find a pair of pants to save his life at that moment. I sat back and watched, slightly amused. I was ready, Rob was not.

My bag and a bag for the baby had been packed for two weeks, maybe three. I had even packed Rob a change of clothes and a toothbrush, knowing there could be at least one overnight stay involved. Luckily, it was spring break for Olivia and she was spending the week with my parents, and it was one less thing we had to worry about.

Rob finally pulled on a wrinkled flannel and a pair of jeans that probably could use a washing, but at least he was dressed. “You said…”

“Rob, I love you with everything that I am, but I am only responsible for what I say, not for what you hear,” I held up my hand to stop further buts and debate. With as stubborn as we were, it really could go on all night, and that kind of time we did not have. I stood, hands on my lower back. “Can we continue this discussion in the car please?”

“Oh, right. Baby!” Rob ran downstairs ahead of me, presumably to grab the bags and get them in the car and come back for me. I reached the bottom of the stairs, and the front door was open.

“Rob!” I called knowing he couldn’t have gone far. The car was in the garage so I headed that way, the bags right where they had been since I packed them.

Opening the service door, I saw Rob sitting in the car, hands gripping the wheel at ten and two. I grabbed his keys from the hook and waddled my way to the car. His eyes opened wide at the sight of me at his window. He quickly got out and grabbed the keys.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl. I don’t know where my head is,” Rob apologized.

“Babe, it’s okay. We still have some time. Can you grab the bags please, by the door?” I added, knowing he would probably go all the way upstairs.

I gingerly climbed in the car and got comfortable. To avoid any unnecessary incidents, I pressed the opener. The heavy double door slowly lifted and all I could see were the white flakes falling from the sky. I should have expected it.

Rob rushed back into the garage, haphazardly throwing the bags in the back, and jumped in the driver's seat. He looked at me and smiled that million watt smile, his eyes bright and shining and took my hand. “Let’s go have a baby.”

“Let’s go have a baby,” I echoed, then wrenched his hand in mine as another contraction hit. I practiced the breathing we had learned, but at this point, I didn’t know if was working. I hadn’t opted for a natural birth; I wasn’t stupid and hoped that we got to the hospital with enough time for the epidural cocktail. I successfully managed to breathe my way through it, but knew there would be at least two more until we arrived.

The roads weren’t bad as Rob navigated the twenty or so miles to the hospital. I decided it was a good time to text my parents, siblings, Rob’s siblings, and his ex-wife just to let everyone know something was happening. With promises to keep them updated, I stowed my phone and concentrated on the road.

I absentmindedly checked the time as another contraction hit. Shit! That was only eight minutes. I called my doctor’s office to give them an update and I was assured that Dr. Grant was already on site and would be waiting for me.

“Babe, I need you to go a little faster, ‘kay?” I groaned from my seat, clutching his arm as the pain rippled through me. I had never gotten this far with Olivia when she was born. There had been complications and, an emergency cesarean later, I had a beautiful baby girl with a perfectly shaped head of dark curls. It had been more than eight years and I wanted to try again, but damn did it hurt.

Rob sped up as quickly as the roads would allow, and I could see the hospital. I breathed a sigh of relief. Within minutes, Rob pulled up outside the emergency doors where a nurse was waiting for me with wheelchair. Rob helped me from the car and rushed inside, but the nurse stopped him before he got too far.

“Mr. Benedict, we have plenty of time. Go park your car, get the bags and meet us inside, okay?” She was calm where my husband was a nervous wrecking ball of energy.

“Baby, it’s fine. I ain’t going anywhere,” I assured him, trying to get him to relax a little. He nodded, kissed me quickly then got back in the car.

“I want a room and I want an epidural now!” I told the nurse as she pushed me inside.

“You know the drill, ma’am. We have to examine you first,” she replied rationally.

~*~

“Angelina, how are we doing tonight?” Dr. Grant entered my room. Rob was nervously pacing after the last contraction. I had been admitted over an hour ago.

“Splendid, Doc. How’s tricks?”

“Well, you still have a sense of humor...for the time being,” he replied with a tight smile. Dr. Grant doctor wasn’t a charismatic man, but he was a damn good doctor.

“So Phyllis says things are looking good. Dilated to a four, fully effaced and ready for that epidural,” he recounted from the chart.

“Yep, yep, yep!” I chirped out. “Fuck!” Another contraction consumed me.

Dr. Grant noted they were still eight minutes apart. “Things seem to be moving slow, just like with your first. We’ll keep an eye on it, but I’ll send in the anesthesiologist.”

“Thank you,” I replied, not feeling the greatest. I had pain in my lower back and hips and couldn’t get comfortable in the grossly uncomfortable hospital bed. I groaned in discomfort.

“Hey pretty girl,” Rob cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What can I do for you? I feel useless, just waiting around for something to happen and you’re in pain and I can’t do anything to help.”

“Rub my back?” I whimpered. Soon enough, his warm and calloused hands were working at least a little bit of magic on the sore and tight muscles.

“That better?’ Rob whispered. I nodded and closed my eyes, trying to get a little rest before the inevitable.

“Just lay with me a bit?” I yawned, the day finally catching up with me.

Rob curled up behind me on the bed, his hands slipping under the itchy gown, rubbing soothing circles over my swollen belly. The silence and comfort of it all was short-lived, but Rob breathed right alongside me through the pain.

“It’s not as bad when you’re here. I think the rubbing helps,” I smiled, turning my head to catch his lips with mine.

Three contractions later, another doctor popped her head inside the room. “Hi! I’m your anesthesiologist, Dr. Harris. How’re you doing?”

“Spectacular and in need of rest and drugs,” I replied.

“Well, I can give you one and the other will come,” she entered the room, followed by a nurse pushing a cart housing a tray filled with all sorts of supplies.

“Alright, Dad, if you want to help Mom sit up, we can get started,” she explained to Rob. “I’ll need you at the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the side, alright?”

Rob eased himself from the bed and helped me into a sitting position. I threw the covers to the side and scooted my bum to the edge. The doctor had positioned herself behind me and untied my gown. The nurse began prepping the injection site and I jumped when the cold, wet gauze hit my heated skin.

“Angelina, I’m going to need you to be real still for this part, okay?” I nodded my head in understanding. “Dad, can you stand between her legs and wrap your arms around her in a bear hug?”

“Sure, yeah, okay,” Rob hesitated, but slid between my legs and I reached up, locking my arms around his neck. “Why are we doing this?” He looked into my eyes.

“Because it’s going to hurt like a bitch and your arms around me will keep me still,” I explained and readied myself. Even though it had been years, I still remembered the sensation I felt the first time I went through this.

“Okay, on three...one...two...three.” My face contorted in pain at the initial jolt. I squeezed Rob as tight as I could, then the burning started to fade and I could feel my body relaxing. I loosened my grip on my husband, and he pulled back enough to meet my eyes.

“You okay?” he murmured, leaning in and pressing small kisses to my temple.

“I will be in just a minute or two,” I sighed. The nurse finished up and quietly left the room. The lull was brief when Dr. Grant and Phyllis reentered the room. We both looked at them with weary eyes.

“Angelina, we’re going to hook you up to a fetal monitor now, since we won’t be able to observe your contractions externally. Dr. Grant is going to do a quick exam and see how you are progressing,” Phyllis explained.

Rob helped me back into bed and into position for the exam. I knew this had to be awkward for him, but he was doing great so far.  

“You’re up to about five and half. We will let you get some rest and come back in a couple hours, okay?” Dr. Grant snapped off the exam gloves.

Rob was eyeing everything the nurse did as she strapped the contraption to my stomach. “So what does this do?”

“This monitors baby’s heartbeat. We can tell when a contraction is happening by the fluctuation of the heartbeat and measure the baby’s response to the contraction. The heart rate will range from 100 to 160 beats per minute,” Phyllis explained to your husband.

“Wow, that’s fast!” Rob looked over at the machine you were hooked up to as it started printing out the baby’s heart beats.

“Is this your first baby, Mr. Benedict?” She asked him, studying the results.

“No, third, but it’s been a while,” he reached for my hand and squeezed it tight.

“Well Mom, Dad, I suggest you get some rest while you can. I’ll be back in a couple hours to check your progress,” she excused herself from the room, dimming the lights on her way out.

Rob pulled the recliner chair closer to the bed where I drifted off, my hand in his until the nurse woke me up two hours later to check my progress. I was disappointed that I wasn’t dilating faster, the nurse informing me I had only progressed to six from five and half in the last three hours and my contractions were still at more than seven minutes apart.

“Oh…” Phyllis gasped.

“Phyllis? What’s wrong?” I turned to her, a furrow in my brow.

“Is the baby okay?” Rob was now fully awake.

“I’ll be back,” she stated, then rushed from the room.

Within minutes, Dr. Grant and three nurses were in the room.

“Angelina, I need you to roll to your side for me, okay?” Phyllis asked, helping me roll.

“What’s going on?” I looked her straight in the eye.

“Baby’s heart rate is dropping during contractions. We want to move you to see if they go back up,” she explained, further examining the paper printout for the last hour.

“What’s the current rate?” Dr. Grant asked her.

“Ninety.”

“Okay, one more flip,” Dr. Grant instructed and the other two nurses helped me up onto my knees.

Rob looked helpless standing there, hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do. He met my eyes, and shuffled closer to the head of the bed to be nearer to me.

“Rate?” Dr. Grant ordered.

“Ninety-three,” she responded.

“Angie, Rob, I’m not comfortable with the your baby’s heart rate during contractions, not with as slow as labor is progressing for you. It’s dipping into the low nineties and recovering nicely, but I would feel better if we took the baby now via cesarean. The choice is yours, but that is my recommendation.” Dr. Grant looked between the two of us.

“Guess we should have just scheduled it to begin with,” I smiled, reaching for Rob’s hand. “Let’s go have a baby.”

Rob smiled and leaned down to kiss me. The nurses made quick work of unhooking everything from the wall and soon my bed was being wheeled down the bright corridor and into an operating room. I heard Phyllis stop Rob at the door, telling him to go change and then he could enter the surgical room.

I was feeling nothing as I was moved from the bed to the table and within minutes, I was on oxygen and they added more meds to provide a solid spinal block.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Rob appeared at my side.

“Hey,” I breathed out, relieved to see him. “You ready for this?”

“Am I ready? I have been ready since you told me you were pregnant. I can’t wait to meet our baby,” Rob whispered, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“Give us about three minutes, then you can meet your little bundle,” Phyllis passed by with a wink, then disappeared behind the curtain separating us from the lower half of my body.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, we each silently counted the seconds. This was it. We were finally going to meet our miracle baby.

“Dad, do you want to see this?” Dr. Grant called over the curtain, and Rob stepped away from me.

Rob wasn’t gone very long and when he returned, he pulled the oxygen mask off my face and kissed me with everything he had. “It’s a girl. We have a baby girl.” His tears mixed with mine when he kissed me a second time.

~*~

I woke to the most beautiful sight in the world the next morning. Rob was sitting in the rocking chair next to my bed, our baby girl swaddled and safe in his arms. He was singing softly, completely in awe of her, her big blue eyes staring up at him, mesmerized. I quietly picked up my phone off the bedside table and started recording their first morning as father and daughter.

Give me more lovin' than I've ever had.

Make it all better when I'm feelin' sad.

Tell me that I'm special even when I know I'm not.

Make me feel good when I hurt so bad.

Barely gettin' mad,

I'm so glad I found you.

I love being around you.

You make it easy,

It's easy as one, two, one, two, three, four.

There's only one thing, two do, three words four you.

I love you.

(I love you)

There's only one way, two say, those three words

And that's what I'll do.

I love you.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered, not wanting to wake her for somewhere in the middle of his serenade, she fell asleep.

“I love you,” Rob replied, the smile never leaving his face.

“I’ve never heard you sing that song before,” I commented.

“I, ah, I just wrote it,” he smiled. “I remember walking in on you in the kitchen a few weeks back. You were wearing one of my dress shirts, and your belly carrying our miracle baby was bare, the shirt hanging off to the side, You just looked so beautiful and I thought to myself, when I can think straight, I am going to write a song about this, but with work and travelling, I never got the chance. It just popped into my head as I was holding her.”

“It’s perfect. I love it and I love you,” I reached for his hand.

I managed to get in a shower with the help of one of the day nurses and was settled back into bed by the time our visitors arrived. My parents, Olivia and Rob’s brother Matt piled into our small room to meet the newest member of our family.

“We would like you all to meet Delilah Rose Benedict,” Rob handed her off gingerly to her big sister who couldn’t stop smiling as she held the new baby.

“Welcome to the family, Delilah Rose,” Olivia whispered, kissing the tiny pink bundle in her arms.

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