#I can count the number of confirmed good parents on like one hand

[moonyasnow]

But really though imagine the impact that would have on someone in their late teens, let alone a CHILD. He barely even got to be one is what that tells me

Like— was there no suitable adult for this task?

And we even know Jamil was bed-ridden after being POISONED at least once! And once is way too much for a CHILD.

Again!

C H I L D

I honestly don't know what's worse— the fact that he feels like he has to give up everything for Kalim, or the fact that it's true.

And on the topic of Kalim, while it might not show it in as much of an obvious sense as Jamil, this choice definitely messed him up too. Kalim is shown to be incredibly dependent on Jamil, and that can't be only physically in regards to food and taking care of himself— and it's already bad enough that he was never taught how to take care of himself at all.

The only person he knows he can 100% trust is Jamil. So imagine if the worst were to happen. I have a lot of experience with and know what it's like to be very dependent on one person, and also what it's like to lose that connection. And let me tell you it is not pretty.

I subscribe to the idea that Kalim is more observant than people think he is, he just chooses to just ignore most of the bad things he worries might happen because he's so used to having to focus on surviving to really think that far ahead. So I feel like what happened in book 4 definitely hurt him a lot more than he showed. Losing trust in the only thing or person you thought would always remain a constant, that you've been literally taught by those around you to lean and rely on for stability, feels like the sky suddenly falling down on you. Like the whole world as you knew it is collapsing in on itself.

These two are incredibly codependent and it is 100% their parents' fault

And even if they've figured that out how the hell are they supposed to know how to deal with something like that?

They're just kids

Sometimes I remember that Jamil is 17 years old and has had a job looking after Kalim basically 24/7 for years, his childhood spent making sure this other child stays alive and safe from assassination attemps while also managing their mundane things. And while I refuse to believe there weren't adults involved while Kalim lived in the Asim household, that is still absolutely an undue pressure to place onto a child - not to mention the whole child labor aspect of it.

And every time I dwell on it I'm just all

But also I want to punch every single adult involved who decided that this was a totally good and a normal idea and there's nothing wrong whatsoever with this arrangement.

[ggyuha]

good cop, bad cop / leon

[ summary ] : you lost your belongings after a party—of course you’d need help but seeing how the officer is so handsome, maybe he can help you in more ways than one? ( wc is 3.6k words )

[ c/w ] : dom!leon x afab!reader, handjob, fingering, unprotected piv, car sex, degradation, pet names, age gap (reader is in college, leon is in early/mid 20s), …

[ note ] : he isn’t acting like a cutie patootie re2r leon bc it’s mostly self-indulgent but enjoy my filthy leon brain rot anyways & ik it’s p long but i love porn w plots ><

having partying all night, it was inevitable to lose something in the process—the something, in your case, was your purse. of course, how cliché.

it had your money, cards and phone in it and hell if you can survive without your phone.

with sore feet and tired heels, you made your way to the nearest police station. it was almost empty, save for a couple of bored-looking officers. they were all buried in paperworks except for one—damn was he a sight for sore eyes.

he had blond hair which was parted in a curtain-ish type of bangs. his eyes were icy blue, the type to bore holes in someone when they stare too hard. his nose was long and tall, it sat perfectly in the middle of his pretty face. his lips were plump and red, so kissable but save that for later, you thought. it’s your purse over this handsome cop.

he walked up to you with a smile on his lips, his puppy eyes looking brightly at you. “hello, is there anything i can help you with?” he asked gently. you saw the way his eyes roamed over your body, up and down, checking you out. you straightened your back, feeling a sense of pride to have such an attractive man gaze at you that way. who wouldn’t, to be honest? with the way your tight black dress hugged your curves perfectly, the way the hem showed a generous amount of your thighs. you sure are a looker.

“yes, please,” you said in the softest way possible, his eyes flicking back up to match your stare. “my purse was stolen and… and i have to get home. is it possible to borrow a phone?”

he raised his brows. a phone? you’d borrow a phone instead of asking for a lift back home. he was disappointed but intentionally gave you his personal phone instead of his work phone. “here, sweetheart.” he just couldn’t hold that one back. he had a thing for pet names and he sure as shit can’t help himself but call you nicknames.

you blinked a few times, flustered with the pet name but you took the phone from his hand and dialled your friend’s number. it took him a few rings. “hello, chris?” chris was your older brother’s best friend. he’s nice and understanding, he acts more brotherly than your own brother so you didn’t hesitate to punch his number in the keypad.

“yes?” he mumbled groggily. you felt a little guilty, disturbing him this late at night but you had to suck it up or you wouldn’t get home. “uhm, i’m in a police station. i lost my purse. can you come and get me?” there was silence for a few seconds before you heard a loud sigh. he said your name, asking to confirm if it was you.

but of course, it was you. who else would cause trouble only to bother him afterwards, right?

“yes, it’s me.”

you heard a low grunt—fuck, you thought. “i can’t, i’m sorry… i’m s’posed to watch my lil’ cousin for the whole night and my uncle used the car.” your lower lip caught in between your teeth. “i see,” you replied in a steady tone, careful not to sound disappointed because you knew chris would feel even more guilty, if he wasn’t feeling that now, which you sure as shit he is.

“it’s okay, chris. thanks anyway. there are tons of officers here,” you said, eyeing the said officers, which you can count with the fingers of a hand. you couldn’t tell chris the truth though.

“maybe i can ask for a lift.” leon’s ears perked up and he fought hard to hold back a grin.

chris hummed on the other end of the line. “i’ll come by tomorrow to check on you, is that good?” he knew your parents are on a business trip and your brother is, most probably, not home. you nodded, slightly forgetting he won’t see. “yes, thanks.”

you handed the officer’s phone back to him. “i can give you a ride.” leon offered with a small smirk. you shivered slightly under his piercing gaze. you could feel the palpable tension between you two and god, was it wrong. you were barely done with college—how old are you? eighteen? nineteen? fuck, it was so wrong but it felt so right.

curious as you were about his age, you refrained from asking.

“okay,” you said, “sorry, i didn’t catch your name.” you looked up at him with doe eyes. you sure knew how to use your charms, he thought. you were worming your way into his head. he was beginning to imagine things—said things being him thrusting his hips, ramming into you roughly—but he isn’t telling you that. yet.

“leon kennedy, but it’s just leon for you.” he gave you a wink before walking past you, gesturing for you to follow him. “i’m almost done with my shift anyway. can you wait for 10 minutes, sweetie?” he glanced back at you over his shoulders, “let me just hand in my paperworks and clock out, yeah?” it took you a few to process his words, his voice calling you sweetie ringing in your head.

“sure,” you answered, “i’ll wait—“ you eyed the lounge and sat on one of the chair, “—here.” he chuckled before walking away to go to his desk, organising piles of paperworks. he grabbed two handfuls of those papers and put them in drawers. the rest of the stack, he grabbed and he walked into an office, probably to hand it in.

he went out after minutes and he arranged his desk. an organised man, you thought, that’s so fucking hot.

he grabbed his backpack and slung it over one shoulder as he walked towards you. “i clocked out. ready to get home?” he smiled sweetly at you. you nodded and stood up, walking behind him.

you were surprised when he got in his car. like, his personal car. you guess it made sense since he already got off work but still. you thought he’d use the police car.

okay, chill, it isn’t even that big of a deal.

you climbed into his passenger seat. “took your sweet time, didn’t you?” he joked as he ignited the engine. you scratched your cheek. “sorry.”

he chuckled at your apology. “i was just kidding.” you shot him a brief glance and threw him a smile. damn did that do something to him.

he began driving, asking you for directions. it didn’t take that long before you reached your home. “this is it,” you said, pointing at the house outside the passenger window. he looked your way, his eyes drifting back to you after he eyed your house. it wasn’t that big but it still was a statement of your family’s wealth.

“thanks for driving me home. even after your shift ended too…” his hand moved from the shift stick to your knee, his eyes remained on yours, looking at you with a glint and you could swear that you could see through him. “it’s not a problem, princess. don’t mention it.” a corner of his lips curved up in a sly smirk. oh, was he a handsome devil—which was ironic since he’s in the force, doing good.

you bit your lip, holding back to gaze at his hand on your knee. it was burning your skin but you were so fucking aching for his hands to burn more than just your knee.

you hummed a response. “alright, leon.” despite knowing that you’re supposed to get out of the car, because the ride is done, you couldn’t move an inch, holding onto his meaningful stare while he killed the engine. “what?” you huffed out silently. his mouth is still curved up in a smirk and his eyes watched you hungrily, almost as if this whole interaction is a bit too entertaining for him.

what the fuck is behind those eyes?

“maybe next time,” he leaned in closer and your breath caught in your throat, “don’t party too hard, yeah?” his breath fanned your cheek. “or do. then maybe i’ll see you around again.” you gasped inaudibly then bit your lip. “you’re not getting your message across, officer kennedy.” you raised a brow at him. “are you telling me to run wild or not?”

leon grinned at your question. he liked this side of you; bold, confident. you’re a minx and you know it.

“i don’t care,” said leon in a low tone. god, did it sound so sexy, so illegally. “i guess i’m saying, do what you will in life but i wanna see you again.”

your eyes widened a bit and it broke free, that sly smile you’ve been holding back for too long. he thinks he has you in his grasp but no, you have him in your grasp.

men are that easy. for you, that is. play dumb, play innocent—or don’t—it doesn’t matter, actually. just look tempting and they eat everything up.

“i’m still a student, officer,” you finally tell him. he doesn’t show a hint of surprise, almost as if he knew. he looked away and pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully now but it’s quite too late for that, isn’t it?

“but you don’t really care, do you?” you added in a sultry tone. his eyes flicked back to you, reflecting sinful emotions—and you could almost see what kind of thoughts danced in his head, how lewd and how fucking hot those thoughts were.

his lips curved up in a smile but he tried to hide it as he rested his elbow on the steering wheel and put a hand on his lower face, the back of it pressed against his mouth.

“you don’t know that,” said leon in a whisper. your finger traced patterns on the back of his hand that’s still on your knee. you saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “oh, but i do.” you grabbed his hand and yanked it so you could pull him closer to you again. his eyes widened, caught off guard.

you were having so much fun. he always seemed collected. all throughout the evening, he was flirting but now, he was at your mercy. fuck those pretty eyes of yours or those damned wet lips. he’d do anything to touch you—and you could feel yourself wanting the same thing.

you clutched the collar of his shirt with one hand, your other hand ran through his ash blond hair. “i know what you’ve been thinking the entire time. trust me, officer kennedy, i’ve seen those eyes before.”

his face contorted to that of jealousy. so you’ve been through this before? you’ve seduced other men? and god so help him—you’ve fucked other men?

you watched as his eyes glinted in envy and he looked so dangerous, so tantalising. you bit the tip of your tongue inside your mouth, your gaze dropping to his lips tugged in a frown.

he grunted, feeling the tension increase. “fuck this,” he murmured and gripped your arm tightly. you winced in pain but looked up at him with a smile. “i’ll fuck you better.”

your mouth dropped open in surprise, his words catching you off guard a bit. apparently, he took this action for something else, as an invitation, and he leaned forward, crashing his lips with yours in a rough and wet kiss.

you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t your goal, not where you wanted to end up in, because it so fucking is.

your hands kept on clutching his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with much fervour. he groaned into the kiss, sending waves of pleasure. really, damn this man to hell but he’s such a fucking good kisser.

he nibbled at your lower lip, biting it and licking it all while interlocking with it. he bit harder this time and you gasped. he eased the pain by licking it and then pushed his tongue in your mouth, swirling and dancing with yours.

he pulled away, but you knew he only did to let you breathe because he would fucking drown you with his kisses if he could.

“damn…” you were panting heavily. your heart was pounding so erratically, you thought it was possible to suffer from a heart attack. you looked at him through your eyelids. “what do you think?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his hand. “i kissed you better, didn’t i?”

you rolled your eyes and frowned at his question. what a jealous bastard! “huh,” you scoffed, “are you making out with me to heal your ego? are you seriously competing with other men you don’t even know?” you raised your brows at him.

“no, no, no, princess—you don’t get it. i have to make sure i do you better so next time, you come back to me and not them.”

without waiting for your response, he gripped your waist tightly to lift you up, guiding you to him. he adjusted the driver’s seat, pushing it back to give you enough space to straddle his lap. you huffed out shakily, the new position heightening your desire. you gripped his shoulders.

“oh, so there’s a next time?” you raised a brow at him and he just gave a smug sneer. “‘course. i’m not an idiot. why would i make you be a one time thing? you’re too pretty for that.” you rolled your eyes at him but secretly flattered he finds you attractive enough to want you more than a one-night stand.

he just chuckled at your reaction then his hands gripped your hips firmly and crashed his lips with yours once more before trailing down to your jaw and neck, nipping on your skin at every opportunity, leaving hickeys.

you tilted your head, giving him more access to your neck, your fingers entwined with his soft hair, combing and gripping them to spur him to keep going.

his hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze before sliding upwards to fondle your tits through your tight dress. you gasped and he chuckled against your skin. he pulled your neckline down, revealing your round breasts and erect nipples. he cupped them with his big hands, pinching and pulling on your buds with his long fingers.

“shit…” you murmured, tipping your head backwards as you fought back a moan. his hands are so filthy but you bet you haven’t even seen the half of it.

he pushed you gently, your back resting against the steering wheel. you watched him hike the hem of your dress up to your waist and palmed your mound without a word. you yelped, feeling him trace a finger along your slit through your panties. he could feel just how wet you already are and that elicited a throaty growl from him.

“messy little girl,” he whispered as he pushed your panties aside, gathering some of your slick with the tip of his fingers before rubbing your throbbing clit, working in circles. you let out a nasty mewl, your hand flying to your mouth and clamp it shut—which didn’t help at all because once he found the perfect rhythm to work on your clit, rolls of whimper and moans escaped your lips.

“so vocal, aren’t you? don’t hold back, i want to hear it.” hesitantly, you removed your hand from your mouth, putting two of them on his shoulders instead. “leoooon…” you moaned when he pushed two thick digits past your slick folds, the heel of his palm bumping against your nub every time he pumped in and out. once you’re adjusted to his fingers, he began curling them and with how long his fingers are, the tip of them reached spots you normally couldn’t on your own.

“this the spot?” he asked teasingly, sliding his fingers in and out then curled them to press on your g-spots. he kept his ministrations, only picking up the pace but doing it at the same intensity.

you were mush at this point, the steering wheel being the only thing keeping you sitting up because if you weren’t leaning, you sure as hell would be falling back with the way he’s doing your body.

“your tight pussy is just as vocal as you. how cute.” you grunted at his words, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. he was right though. every time he thrusted those damn fingers in you, filthy squelching filled the car.

“i’m close, please…”

he looked up at you and smiled, his other hand tucking your hair behind your ear then leaned forward to kiss your lips briefly. “go on then, cum on my fingers, baby.” a couple more thrusts of his fingers and your hips began to rhythmically spasm, riding your orgasm while he continued to slowly stroke your spongy walls, your cum coating his fingers.

he pulled out, his tongue swirling around his cum-coated digits and licked them clean down to his knuckles. “delicious little thing, aren’t ya,” he said as he unbuckled his pants, his other hand grabbing your wrist to guide your hands and palm his fully erect cock.

your eyes widened and you exhaled, your fingers barely wrapping around his length. your thumb swiped on the precum gathering on his tip and he shakily sighed, throwing his head back on his seat’s headrest, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

you lazily stroked him. honestly, you didn’t have enough energy for this. you just want him inside you and all this teasing—it’s only making you impatient. “hmp,” his brow twitched slightly and glared at you, “brat. i know as hell this isn’t how you give handjobs.” he grabbed your wrist and pushed it up and down to stroke his throbbing cock harder. “what’s the matter? can’t wait ‘til my cock’s inside you?” he smirked and despite wanting to deny his accusation, you just whined instead and watched him use your hand as a fleshlight.

“shit, hold on, baby.” his hips were bucking up in rhythm with your hand, fucking your fist with urgency. with a throaty moan, his cock twitched before ropes of cum spilled on your hand and some on your stomach. you thought about how good it’d feel to have this hot and sticky thing stuffed in you.

he panted heavily but he was clearly still hard. he hasn’t had enough, for sure. he grabbed your hips, lifting them up so your pussy is hovering above his cock then you slowly sank down, your head tipping back as you felt just how much he’s stretching your tight walls—fuck, he’s so big.

his fat tip effortlessly hit your cervix just by being balls deep inside you. you groaned and impatiently squirmed on his lap. “wait up, you slut,” he grunted before firmly holding your hips to help you ride his dick. he rammed inside you relentlessly, repeatedly hitting all your spots with his curves and length. series of moans spilled from your swollen lips. your hands found your bouncing tits, playing with your nipples which heightened your stimulation.

“filthy girl,” he spat but watched you play with yourself while he used your tight cunt like an expensive cocksleeve. “shit shit shit…” you breathlessly whimpered, “not that spot, not that spot—“ liar, that’s what you are because he is thrusting in such a good spot but if he keeps hitting that… “jesus, did you just cum?” he furrowed his brows and stared at the creamy white coating the base of his dick. “oh, that’s good, fuck you’re so tight…” he seemed to be reprimanding you for cumming first but he couldn’t help and enjoy the way you’re just so fucking tight, clamping down around his thick length after your release.

he kept pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, pumping his cock in you and stuffing your womb with his thick cum as if he’s planning on giving you his kids.

you don’t know how or when it happened, that you’re in your house, on your bed. both of you are fully naked now while he rammed into you like a hungry man, his hands pressing on the back of your thigh ‘til they’re levelled with your ears. “leon, oh god, i’m…!” your walls clenched around him again, pussy twitching and hips spasming though you’re tired from cumming over and over again around his cock. he just kept spilling his load into you.

“shit, baby, can’t get enough of this pussy.” he pulled out and watched his cum ooze out of your puffy lips. you caught a glimpse of the sunrise from outside your window and series of doorbells echoed in your home, followed by chris’ voice. fuck.

he called your name but leon just raised his brows at you before flipping your limp body, spanking your ass to lift them up properly. you whined and did as he wanted, presenting yourself to him while your face is pressed on a pillow, muffling your moans and cries as he fucked you roughly for the nth time since last night.

“shh, princess. we gotta pretend nobody’s home, don’t we?” he whispered from behind, leaning forward to press soothing kisses on your shoulder blade as filthy sounds of skin slapping skin and wet squelching while he rammed mindlessly his cock in you filled your bedroom. “wouldn’t want your friend to catch us like this after all.”

“mhm, shit…” he murmured as his hips picked up pace, swinging more sloppily and with more urgency before spilling another load of thick cum in you. jesus, is he ever gonna stop cumming at all?

“pretty girl, takin’ me so well. what’s another one more, yeah?”

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[0oolookitsme]

Harryween ...Night-In!

Type - A One-Shot!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 2k

Warnings - none, just talks of pregnancy and descriptions of the changes her body has made.

A/n - I miss Harry, and I'm too sad that we aren't celebrating Harryween this year. So of course, I wrote about it.

Consider this one a closure for 'kinktober' (just bc it's the last fic of Oct <3)

MASTERLIST | please rb to share!

They were sitting on the small-cozy sofa, a blanket draped over their legs as they sat in utter silence, the light from the TV screen illuminating the whole room.

It was a small area, the TV sat on the drawer-set that had mainly thrifted crockery inside. A coffee table was placed in front of her sofa, over which for now Harry had laid his legs in order to make himself comfortable.

A nineties horror film played on the screen in low volume, the room not yet warm due to their recent reign. Anne was in the kitchen, putting sweets into different bowls before the kids came to her door for trick-or-treating.

Everyone on the street loved her, especially the kids. She was like a grandparent to all of them, having read them stories when they'd come up to her house, and built different Lego peices with them while some tea brewed in the kitchen for all of them.

And now that she was on the brim of becoming an actual grandparent to her son and daughter-in-law's child, there was a different kind of sparkle in her eyes, tint on her cheeks and a forever imprinted smile on her rosy lips.

She had welcomed the pair with open arms and an excited shriek when Harry asked her the permission to come over for a few days. Y/n wanted to be in the comfort of another woman, someone who'd had a kid – she wanted the comfort of a mother a woman gets when she's got a baby in her.

And, unfortunately enough, she'd had to cut ties with her mother years and years ago. So, to have a chance at a second mother, who was as much of a dearie as Anne, she knew that she just needed to be embraced by her just once and it'd be enough.

Y/n's bump had grown so huge that the nurses at the hospital told her that there might be a chance she's carrying more than one baby. So, when her bump was abnormally huge in the first month of the trimester, she wasn't very tense bacause she just wanted the babies to be comfortable inside.

When she talked to her doctor about the possibility, she was told that during their first ultrasound only one baby was seen. But it could be that the second one hadn't developed enough to be caught.

Other than her, it was only Anne who knew of that. Harry knew about the whole scene, but he was yet to confirmed about it. Out of the many things that Y/n feared, one of them was that she and Harry would be disappointed if it came out that there's only one baby.

They lived with the uncertainty of the number of babies, a little scared. But, Harry reassured her every morning that no matter how many babies she was carrying, he'd love her and the baby – or the twins, all the same.

"H? Can you bring me some more popcorn, please?" Y/n requested, already putting the bowl in front of him that only had a few curnels left of the snack. And, when Harry did up and go to the kitchen, she wasn't sure what she had started missing – the endless number of popcorns going in her mouth one after another, or the constant pressing of Harry's soft thumbs against the swollen plush of her feet.

"You're lucky you're pregnant," Harry came in saying, handing her the bowl with a faux glare that he had fixed on her face.

A sheepish smile pulled up on her lips before she quickly passed him a flying kiss without the action of her hand, causing Harry to let out a laugh. He sat down and placed her feet back in his lap, his hands getting back to work as his eyes caught up with the scene currently playing on the TV.

The kid had just sneaked inside their parents' room and slipped between the two with their plushie in hand. "Do you think I'll be a good father?" Harry asked, almost seeming absent-minded but she knew better.

"Gonna be the best one out there," she assured him, passing him the bowl of popcorn to share. In return, he passed her a smile – a quiet form of his gratitude for her, and moved his hands up to massage her calves a bit as well.

As Harry's eyes remained on the screen, Y/n's head had lulled back onto the soft cushion and eyes had shut down. She had only doen it because the TV was beginning to strain her eyes, but realised just after how good it felt to do that as she snuggled-up farther inside the quilt.

Harry looked over at her just in time before the bowl of her cravings fell on the floor. She hated popcorn before pregnancy, and now she found any and every excuse to have them. His mouth stretched in a soft smile, dimples carving in his cheeks as he looked at her.

Both of her hands were on her bump, head lulled back slightly to the side, away from the screen and mouth carelessly left open. The light from the TV screen hit her face in a manner that made her features look more prominent – her cupid's bow shined profusely because of the balm she had put rubbed on her lips before cuddling up in the couch. Her lashes rested on top of the high of her cheeks, her skin gleaming in the light.

He could tell that here she was less anxious and stressed, and more at comfort than ever. He loved to see her bond furthermore with his mum, watching her listen to Anne tell her about the course of becoming a mother made Harry feel too emotional.

She always seemed to be glowing, and her cheeks were fuller now. She mostly left her hair loosely tied, and god, her hips had grown wider too – it made him lose his mind everytime he saw her love handles. Her thicker-thighs closed around his head just perfectly, and her stretch marks reminded him of the way her body was changing every single day to adapt to caressing a baby.

"Darling –"

Anne cut herself off before she could wake Y/n up, bunching her shoulders up before she sighed deeply, glad that she didn't disturb her.

Harry chuckled, letting Anne know that his wife had turned into a heavy sleeper now that she was pregnant. "You were saying something, mum?" He asked her, watching as she walked closer to him.

"I came to say that the kids should start come knocking any time now," Anne told Harry. "This darling wanted to hand a few out herself. Do I wake her?"

Harry nodded in response as he got up and started patting Y/n's hand. "Love, do you want to hand out treats?"

Y/n remembered then, and started moving to get up. She had no idea as to when she fell asleep, but as Harry helped her get up she grunted in discomfort.

"Are they here?' She asked after pecking Harry's cheek in gratitude.

Just when she asked that, the doorbell rung for the first time and she had never wished to get up fast so hard over the course of the past few months of pregnancy. Harry's hand automatically placed itself on her lower back as she started walking slowly and slowly.

"H, I can walk to the front door just fine. I'm pregnant, not paralysed," she stated, suddenly feeling annoyed.

"Okay, okay. But you do need some time to adjust to walking before you start padding your way around," Harry giggled, kissing her temple from beside her. But the moment he saw that she didn't exactly have a pleased expression on her face, he put up a finger on his lips, almost promising her that he wouldn't utter a word again.

Anne already had the door open, and the moment Y/n's eyes landed on the little one on their door, she couldn't help but squeal. "Eeek! Dorothy!" She exclaimed, turning to look at Harry with starry eyes crinkled at the corners.

She was their neighbour's kid, y/n realized. And, as she got closer she saw that in the basket, there was a paper that was flipped upside down, considering she could see the ink that had leaked on the back side of the page – probably due to the pen being pressed too hard.

"Hi!" Y/n greeted the little one, two bowls full of treats in both of her hands. She tried to bend down to talk better, but because she was unable to, she just sat on her knees on the tiles.

"I love Dorothy," she giggled, and the girl in front of her grinned as well.

"I love her too! My name's Dorothy as well, so I decided to dress like her," the sweet girl bubbled. She was bouncing on her feet, full of excitement. "Happy Halloween, by the way," she wished them all.

As they wished her back, she began picking out the treats she wanted. Once she was done, her head whipped to meet Harry's gaze who was just standing behind Y/n with gleaming eyes and a wide dimpled-smile.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted him. "You dressed up as Dorothy once, and now I have too!" She shrieked, jumping to high-five Harry who now had an open-mouthed grin on his face.

"We have great taste, now, don't we?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows at the girl whose eyes suddenly went as wide as saucers.

"Oh no!" She cried before she took her basket and placed it on the ground.

"What – is something wrong?" Y/n stuttered, her face molding into a frown.

"Oh nothing," the girl said nonchalantly, getting back up from where she was crouching to take something out of her basket. "Here," she grinned, handing a post-card sized paper to Y/n.

Harry leaned over to see what it was, and once he did, a surprised laugh left his throat. Y/n was already gushing over how good the painting was and just leaned in to press a kiss to the girl's cheeks, who accepted it with a bright blush.

It was drawing of a pumpkin, over which she had marked the carving that said 'HAPPY HARRYWEEN' on it. "I know you did this on your shows for Halloween, so I thought it would be kind of me to give you this because I know your tour is over now," the girl pouted at Harry as she babbled off.

Harry looked at the her with glossy eyes, leaning in to hug the little girl. "Thank you, love," he whispered.

He had been so emotional about Halloween this time, that Y/n had to comfort him every single day for the past week leading up to today. Even this morning, he had to stop his tears from falling as the feeling of not being on stage all dressed up crippled him.

He loved that he was spending the day with his mum, his wife and his unborn baby. But he still felt the need to be comforted because it still hadn't settled in him that he wasn't going to be onstage for a while now. So, he wrapped his forearms around Y/n's shoulders in order to calm himself down, and keep himself in the moment because he knew that he wouldn't want to leave her side any time soon now.

"Wait!" Y/n shouted at a sudden thought that had struck her mind, scaring Harry out of his small meltdown. "It's Harryween – Night …In!" She squealed in delightment, giggling along with the girl as Harry sniffled and laughed at her lame humour, feeling love sick.

[uptondixon]

Upstead Foster Daughter

Did you ever wonder how Upstead would be as foster parents for a teenage girl? Like Hank and Erin, Hailey and Jay welcomed Olivia to their home when she was 16. Olivia holds a lot of grudges and is full of mischief, but she is also incredibly sweet and has a tremendous need to feel like she belongs. To her surprise, Hailey and Jay will give her exactly that.

Masterlist

Word count: 2k-ish

[Chapter III] “What if I'm far from home?”

Jay recovers well and three months later Olivia finds herself face to face with him and Hailey again.

“Hailey,” Jay’s rough voice woke Hailey from a light sleep on the chair next to Jay’s hospital bed. 

“Jay!” she got up and held one of his hands between hers, leaving a chaste kiss on it. 

“Hi, my love,” Jay smiled, the effort to do so appearing bigger than it should be. 

Hailey smiled back, “How are you feeling?”

He made a face and tried to change his position on the bed, a huff leaving his lips, “Everything hurts.”

“I’ll call the nurse.”

“No, wait,” Jay grabbed her hand. “Let us be for a while, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

Hailey stared at her stubborn husband. She knew he hated hospitals, and he also wasn’t known for admitting his pain, but she let him be for now.

“What happened?” Jay asked. “I mean, with my CI and the case?”

“What about hearing about yourself first, huh? The surgery was a success, but the doctor said you must take it easy for a while otherwise it won’t heal properly. You scared me, Jay. I can’t see you in this situation again.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve waited for you. You’re my partner, we do this kind of stuff together.”

“I should’ve insisted on going with you. Maybe if you had backup…”

“You can’t know that for sure, Hailey. If anything, you could be in my place right now so I’m happy I was alone.”

“Jay…”

“Let’s leave the what-ifs behind, okay? I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he was the one to kiss her hand this time. “I love you.”

“I love you too, always.”

Jay smiled, “Where’s my kiss? Or do I have a bad breath? I don’t know how long I was out.”

Hailey laughed, kissing her husband’s lips softly. “It’s been a day and a half.”

“Wait!” Jay said. “What about the girl who helped me? Olivia. Is she okay?”

“She is, it’s a long story though. We found out she had run away from her foster family.”

“Why?” Jay asked with a frown.

“I don’t know, we talked with her social worker but nothing was wrong, it seemed like a teenager thing.”

“Really? You guys went there to check?”

“We did, Kev and I talked with her foster mom. She seemed good, and the social worker confirmed that.”

“Well,” Jay rearranged himself on the bed again. “Hopefully she will be okay. We can keep an eye on her just in case.”

“I exchanged numbers with her social worker. Told her to call me if anything happened.” 

“Of course you did,” he smiled, but then his expression became more serious. “If it wasn’t for her… I don’t even know Hailey.”

“Yeah, I was terrified hearing from another person that you were shot, but I was happy you weren’t alone.” 

“Me too, I still remember her eyes staring at me in a panic. She must have been so scared, Hailey. But she still did everything I told her to.”

“She was a little shaken up afterward, Kim and Kev said she barely said a word to them. But she was brave.” 

“Oh, about the case,” Hailey started. “It was closed rather quickly, I’m sure Platt and Voight pulled some strings,” she laughed lightly and so did Jay.

“The team found out your CI was still working for his old gang, when you called him asking for info on our case he told them and they sent someone after you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jay said.

“Both your CI and the guy who shot you were arrested."

Jay looked like he wanted to ask a million questions but Hailey spoke before he had the chance, "But now I just wish to never think about this again, can we do that?”

Jay nodded, “You don’t have to, I promise this was the last bullet to my count,” he said with a smile.

“It better be, Halstead!”

⭑*•⊱ 3 months later ⊰•*⭑

Hailey's phone has been ringing for the past 5 minutes, her ringtone waking Jay up. Hailey came running out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her long hair dripping water everywhere. Jay smiled lazily at the sight.

“I'm sorry Jay, I forgot to turn it off. I came in so desperate for a shower.”

It was around 1 am when she arrived home from an extra shift. There was a situation in a women’s shelter and she and Kim decided to go and lend a hand. 

Hailey did a double take at her phone when she saw the name ‘Martha’, she was Olivia's social worker. 

Jay noticed her shock and said, “You're good? Who is it?”

“It's Olivia's social worker,” she said while picking up the call. Jay sat up, all the traces of sleep suddenly vanishing from his brain. Something bad must have happened for her to call at this hour.

“Martha? Hi, yes I can talk. What's going on? Is Olivia okay?” Hailey said. She felt Jay's presence by her side. 

“Of course, no, don't worry about that it's not a bother at all. I'm glad you called, my husband and I are going right now, bye.” She hung up the phone and turned to Jay.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Jay asked straight away.

“She ran away again.”

2:00 am on a Wednesday, in Chicago. Jay is doing the best he can to avoid thinking about all the possible scenarios that could happen to a 15-year-old girl alone at night. He and Hailey drove around Olivia's foster family neighborhood, checking places she could have run to. No sign of her. After checking all the places the family said she likes to go, Hailey and Jay started to think further.

“Maybe we should call patrol to help out on the search? Call in the team?” Jay said, already sounding way more stressed than he intended to. He knew she wasn't missing long enough to follow all the missing person's protocol, it's been 3 hours. One of the kids that shared a room with Olivia woke up to drink a glass of water and didn't find her on the bed and her clothes were gone from the closet. However, Jay can't help but think the worst. A lot of things can happen in 3 hours, right? 

“Let's check the nearest bus and train stations, if she's not there then we'll see what we can do at the station,” Hailey said, her tone filled with worry.

They got nothing from the bus station, it was almost empty and no one saw a girl walking around alone. But their luck changed at the train station. They noticed her from a distance, sitting down on a bench, a backpack by her side. She was waiting for the train that would come at any minute now. Hailey and Jay looked at each other with relief, moving in the direction of the girl. 

“Olivia,” her head spun toward the feminine voice.

“Hailey? Jay?” Olivia stood up, putting her bag on her shoulders.

Jay immediately tensed up, afraid she might run from them. 

“Olivia we just wanna help, okay?” Hailey said with a small smile. “Come and talk to us.”

Jay watched in silence, hesitant to say anything that could scare the girl away. 

Hailey continued, “Please, Olivia? Whatever you're thinking, it's no good being alone in Chicago at night, we know you know that.” 

Of course, she knew. Olivia was scared, she didn't want to run away in the middle of the night, but it was the best time to do this so she had to gather the courage and go. Always looking over her shoulder the whole way.

“We're taking you to the station,” Jay spoke for the first time, “You're not in trouble, but we can talk there, you can tell us what's going on. How does that sound?” 

Hailey nodded in affirmation to Jay's words.

“Fine,” was all Olivia said. She followed them to the car quietly. The train arrived when they left. If they had got there 5 minutes later, Jay thought. 5 damn minutes and she would be gone.

Olivia did not say a single word on the way to the station. Hailey and Jay tried every possible topic of conversation they could think of but it was useless. She shut herself completely. Hailey was the one driving and after giving up the small talk, she and Jay were exchanging worried looks in silence. Jay, especially, was in a lot of thought. Of course Olivia shut them out, she did not know them. Between that day at the alley when they first met, Jay being in the hospital and Olivia being sent back to her foster family, neither he nor Hailey had a real conversation with her. Jay realized that he didn’t even thank her. 

“I never thanked you for saving my life, Olivia,” Jay said after a long silence.

“It was nothing,” Olivia answered in a low voice.

Jay looked at Hailey in surprise, he was not expecting an answer at all. “What do you mean it was nothing, I could have bled out if you hadn't called my team,” Jay looked at her over his shoulder. “Thank you.”  

It was around 3 am when they got to the district. The three of them went over to the Intelligence break room to talk. 

Olivia sat at the small table close to the window. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Jay asked.

“No,” Olivia mumbled without looking at him.

“I’m just gonna go straight to the point Olivia,” Hailey said, pulling a chair and sitting in front of the girl. “What’s happening with your foster home? Why are you running away?”

“You don’t get it,” Olivia said, still not looking at them.

“Then make us understand,” Hailey said calmly. She looked at Jay silently asking for help, he came and sat beside Hailey.

“We just wanna help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t open up to us,” Hailey tried again. Olivia looked up, looking between them both.

“You don’t know us and we don’t know you,” Jay started. “But we want to get to know you, we want to help you.”

“Why?” Olivia asked.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Hailey answered. “You’re a good kid, you deserve to be happy. If your current foster home is not giving you that then we need to know.”

Olivia thought for a moment. She never expected to see Hailey and Jay again, let alone have this conversation. They were nice to her and she knew they were grateful for what she did for Jay. They probably think they owe her something and that’s why they’re doing this. Whatever the reason, maybe they can help her.

“Fine,” Olivia said looking at the pair. “There is nothing wrong with the foster family.”

Hailey and Jay stared at her in confusion. They did not believe she was running away for the sake of it, it made no sense.

“They feed me, they are nice to me, they give me fresh clothes and a warm bed,” Olivia said. “But that’s all it is.”

“What do you mean?” Hailey asked. 

Olivia took a deep breath before saying, “I’m just another kid to them. They’re good people and everything but that is not my home. I feel like an intruder there. I know I should be grateful, a lot of kids are not this lucky when it comes to foster homes, but I can’t help feeling like this. So I made a plan.”

“A plan?” Hailey asked.

“Yeah, I planned to leave Chicago and the foster system behind. I would miss Chicago but at least I was going to be my own family.”

Hailey and Jay looked at each other in realization. So that's why she was running? She just wanted to belong. 

“I know the system's not perfect Olivia, but running is not the solution,” Jay said calmly. “How would you live? And the people who know you? They would be worried as hell.”

“We would be worried as hell,” Hailey said. 

Jay nodded, “We would be the first ones looking for you out there.” Olivia smiled softly at that.

“Will you let us help?” Hailey asked.

“Mm-hmm, okay.” Olivia honestly had no idea how they could help, but it was worth a try, wasn’t it?

Here we go! How you guys like this chapter? Thank you again for all the love on the previous chapters!

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Five

Top right gif by: @tomshiddles, bottom left gif by: @pedropascalmybeloved

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Four

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 7.1k+

Chapter summary: Jack receives a call from Dr. Navarro, and the story behind Ángel's name is revealed. Plus, we dive into Javi's relationship with you, religion, and his mom. There are some sweet moments with Javi, but there are also some angsty ones, so brace yourselves! (Flashback scenes are in bold)

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, childhood disease, science (I tried my best to simplify stuff; I hope it makes sense!) catholicism, mention of parent loss, mention of children's death, Colombia references. 

Jack found himself engrossed in packing the gifts he had bought for Ángel. As soon as he left the hospital, he placed a custom order, an expedited one. With the gifts neatly arranged, his heart was filled with anticipation. He intended to reach out and ask if he could visit his son today. The very thought of visiting Ángel and you was the only source of excitement.

In the midst of meticulously placing the final gift into a large, holographic blue bag, his phone rang, interrupting the moment. The ringtone pierced the room, and the screen displayed an unfamiliar number, causing his brows to pull at the center.

A calm, reassuring voice greets him, "Hello. This is Dr. Navarro calling. Is this Mr. Jack Daniels?"

With an affirming nod that the doctor couldn't see, Jack confirms, "This is he." He places the phone between his ear and shoulder, all the while making his way to the foyer to put on his shoes.

Dr. Navarro proceeded cautiously, "Is this a good time to talk?"

Jack, now crouched over to pull on a boot, replied with alacrity as he juggled the phone, "Yes."

"I have some very good news, Mr. Daniels," the doctor says, his tone carrying a hint of optimism. 

At the mention of "good news," Jack's heart quickens, causing him to pause momentarily freeze in place, one shoe halfway on. 

“Can you come into the hospital? I’m afraid this needs to be a personal conversation,” the doctor continued.

Jack falls into a brief silence, his mind racing with countless thoughts and possible scenarios.

"Mr. Daniels?" the doctor prompted, concern seeping into his tone.

"Yes! 'Pologies, I was just... Can we talk today?" Jack asked hurriedly as he struggled to slip his other boot on.

The doctor, who had been about to list his available times, adjusted to Jack's urgency. "Sure-"

But Jack interrupted before he could finish. "I can be there at three, does that work?" he blurted out and finally managed to put on his boot.

The doctor agreed, with a simple, "Yes."

Jack sighed with relief. "Thank you." He quickly ended the call.

Without wasting another moment, he darts out the door. As he intends to lock his apartment door, he suddenly realizes he left behind his keys, wallet, and the gift for his son, still sitting on the sofa.

He dashed back inside, collecting everything he needed in frantic haste. As he finally left his apartment and rushed down the stairs, his mind raced with a mix of hope and anxiety. 

Without wasting a moment, he dashed out of the door. However, as he reached to lock the apartment, a sudden realization struck him – he had left behind his keys, wallet, and his son’s gifts, still resting on the sofa.

He rushed back inside, gathering the essentials in a frantic haste. Finally, he left his apartment and hurried down the stairs, his mind remaining a whirlwind of both hope and anxiety.

You sit by the bedside, your hand gently cradling Ángel's tiny fingers as he sleeps. The soft beeping of monitors and Javi's gentle snores as he rests on the sofa echo in the room. Javi had vigilantly watched over his little boy throughout the night, managing to steal only a few hours of sleep. As soon as he heard a quiet knock, your voice, and Dr. Navarro's footsteps softly padding across the sterile Cirque White linoleum floor as he entered Ángel's room, Javi's instincts kicked in, wakening him. It's become second nature during your lengthy stay at the hospital; his brain is finely programmed to awaken at the slightest disturbance.

"Buenas (Good afternoon)," the doctor greets with a warm smile.

"Buenas (Good afternoon)," Javi mumbles sleepily, his voice still clouded by drowsiness.

"¿Cómo está? (How are you?)" You ask, extending a warm welcome.

"Bien, gracias. Espero que ustedes también (Good, thank you. I hope you all are too)," he responds. "¿Cómo está Ángel? (How’s Ángel doing?) " 

Javier answers, his concern evident in his words, "Bien. Ya no ha vomitado, pero se quejó tantito de náusea (Good. He hasn’t thrown up, but he’s complained a bit about nausea), but not as much as he complained before."

"Ah, that means the medicine is working. Hopefully, the nausea will be gone in a couple of hours," Dr. Navarro reassures.

"Does he have any tests?" you ask, a hint of worry in your voice.

"No, not right now. The reason I came in is to ask one of you to come to my office. You both can come if you prefer," the doctor suggests.

You and Javi share a wordless exchange, a silent understanding passing between you. "No, that's fine, you go," Javi says in a soothing tone, his thumb gently tracing small, comforting circles on your hand.

“Ya vengo (I’ll be back),” you whisper, your voice barely louder than a breath, gently squeezing Ángel's tiny hand before leaving a tender kiss on your husband's lips.

Javi nods, a warm smile gracing his features, and his soft, beautiful brown eyes meet yours as he says, "I'll stay with Ángel, mi amor. I'll be right here."

Leaving Ángel's room, you and the doctor head down the hospital corridor.

“I have good news,” Dr. Navarro says on the short walk to his office. His office was just around the corner from Ángel’s hospital room. 

“Good news?” you questioned, your heart racing with hope and anxiety, your maternal instincts on high alert.

And then, as you turn the corner, you spot Jack approaching. In his hands, he carries a large gift bag, and your assumption is immediate - it must be for your son.

Before you can even question his unexpected presence, Dr. Navarro interjects, “Ah, Mr. Daniels, you're right on time,” and with that, he opens his office door, signaling for you to enter. The door swung open, and you stepped inside. “Please sit down, Mrs. Peña, Mr. Daniels,” the doctor instructed.

Jack's heart aches as he hears you addressed by another man's last name, an unexpected but sharp jab at his heart. He couldn't help but feel a turbulent mixture of emotions, from heartbreak to searing anger. How dare this man refer to you as Mrs. Peña?

She was Mrs. Daniels, not Peña, his inner thoughts raged. Then he heard it, "was" – past tense because he had done everything in his power to keep you at arm's length. There was no time to delve further into these thoughts as the doctor cleared his throat, drawing his attention back to the present. 

You and his son's doctor were looking intently at him.

"Sorry," he shook his head as if to shake off those intrusive thoughts. He noticed you were still standing and quickly pulled out a chair, motioning for you to sit and adding a polite 'please.' He then turned his gaze to his son's doctor and said, “Call me Jack, please."

You looked at him with a quizzical expression but didn't press further. Instead, you sat down. Jack followed suit, and as he settled into his chair, Dr. Navarro flipped open the manila folder on his wooden desk.

With hands crossed, forming a single fist resting on top of the folder, Dr. Navarro began, “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Mr. Daniels. As I mentioned to each of you separately, I have good news. The news we've all been hoping for.”

At the mention of "good news," a rush of emotions washed over you, a mix of hope, relief, and anxiety, which was only natural for a mother whose son had been battling a condition with a limited life expectancy, lasting only 20-30 years.

"Mr. Daniels is a match."

Your reaction was visceral; you gasped audibly, a sound filled with the weight of years of worry and uncertainty. At that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you, like a long-held breath released at last.

Jack's response was equally powerful. His voice cracked with emotion as he muttered, "Thank the Lord." Tears welled in his eyes, and through the blurry veil of his emotions, he noticed that tears were streaming down your cheeks.

In a profound and tender gesture, Jack, whose hand had been anxiously rubbing his thighs, reached for your right hand, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. For a fleeting moment, he feared that you might pull away, but to his immense relief, you offered no resistance. 

“A full match, actually,” Dr. Navarro clarified, passing a tissue box around.

“When can we do the transplant?” His eyes were red from tears, and he continued to wipe them away with a Kleenex. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders as he added, "This here's all ‘m fault, and I need'a fix it."

Understanding Jack's self-blame all too well, you reassured him with empathy. "It's not your fault, Jack. I didn't know before he came to the hospital because it can't be tested for before birth, given how rare it is. You couldn't possibly have known you were a carrier." 

"She's right, Mr. Daniels. Ángel inherited one mutated copy of the FANCA gene from you, but you do not have the disease. If you did, it would have manifested when you were younger. You couldn't have known you could pass the gene to your son," Ángel's doctor explains, his gaze shifting to the neatly scattered papers on his desk. He continues, his voice filled with awe, "You'll actually end up saving his life in a way I've never seen before. You are a full match, meaning that all of Ángel's HLA markers are exactly like yours. This... this is incredibly rare," Dr. Navarro adds, his amazement evident. "The gene pool is fascinatingly diverse, and the chances of this exact scenario are less than 1%."

Jack blinks throughout the doctor's explanation.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away," Dr. Navarro admits sheepishly. "HLA markers are proteins that assist the immune system in recognizing foreign substances. We need the closest match to reduce the risk of graft-versus-host disease after the transplant."

"Here," the doctor says, extracting a paper from the desk pile and flipping it so both of you can see the text, the paper rustling with the movement. The page is littered with various percentages, but what immediately draws your attention is the three separate rows of HLA markers with their corresponding numbers.

Dr. Navarro takes a pen and begins explaining, "This top set," as he points with the pen, "contains Ángel's HLA alleles."

HLA-B*07:02 

HLA-C*04:01 

HLA-B*35:01 

HLA-A*02:01 

HLA-C*06:02 

HLA-DRB1*15:01 

He then moves on to the second set and points with the pen to emphasize, "These are your HLA alleles."

HLA-DRB1*04:04

HLA-C*04:01

HLA-DQB1*03:02

HLA-B*35:01

HLA-DRB1*15:02

HLA-B*07:02

"Now, here's the interesting part," he says, circling a box, "these are Jack's HLA alleles. We ran the test more than once, and they are an exact match to Ángel's HLA alleles."

HLA-B*07:02

HLA-C*04:01

HLA-B*35:01

HLA-A*02:01

HLA-C*06:02

HLA-DRB1*15:01

Jack, still trying to wrap his head around the information, asks, "And that's rare?"

"Very rare," Dr. Navarro nods in agreement. He reaches for a few highlighters from his desk, removes the cap from a red one, and proceeds to highlight the first of your son's alleles. He then highlights the last line from your list with the same red color. "We're looking at six of Ángel's HLA markers. He inherited half from you and the other half from Jack," the doctor explains. "To simplify, I'll color-code and refer to the HLA markers. Based on your previous blood work, we already knew you contributed three alleles to Ángel. You provided him with the red HLA," he says as he highlights the next line of Ángel's row in orange. He then looks for the corresponding marker in your row and highlights HLA-C*04:01 in orange. "You also gave him the orange one, and," he continues, highlighting another one of Ángel's alleles in yellow before searching for your line: HLA-B*35:01, which he also marks in yellow. He points out the match for each marker, making it visually clear.

The doctor proceeds to highlight the last three lines of Ángel's HLA markers in green, blue, and purple, respectively. He then repeats the process with Jack's chart, marking the corresponding markers. "It's easier to see here," he explains, "but, Jack, you provided your son with the green, blue, and purple alleles. So, to clarify, Mom contributed the red, orange, and yellow markers to Ángel, and Dad gave him the green, blue, and purple. What's truly fascinating is that Jack and Ángel share the exact same alleles. Although you both don't have the same alleles, the probability of you two genetically coordinating to create a replication of one of your HLA sets is remarkable. You even have three matching alleles," the doctor concludes, emphasizing the incredible alignment of your and Jack's genetic markers.

“Wow,” you say, a bit dumbfounded. You've known all along that pushing through your feelings with Jack was the right choice, as he is indeed the solution to saving Ángel. Against all odds, your son will have a chance at a healthy life.

“Thank you, Jack,” you whisper, your free hand gently rubbing his hand that rests atop your other one. It's one of the most sincere things you've ever said, though it's brief—it's all that you can muster at the moment.

“You don't hafta thank me, Sugar. I'd do anythin’ for our boy,” Jack responds, his eyes locking onto yours. He adds, “I'd do anythin' for ya.”

Your heart stutters with nervousness. Your intention was to express gratitude for what Jack is doing for Ángel, not for yourself. After all, you're married to Javi. No, that's not- your thoughts get interrupted by Jack's question to Ángel’s doctor.

“So, there’s no issue with me bein’ my son’s donor, correct?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Not a one,” the doctor reassures, gesturing with a dismissive wave of his hands. "After we’re done here, you'll need to sign some paperwork to formalize your agreement to be Ángel’s donor. Then, you'll have to pick up a five-day supply of filgrastim at the pharmacy. I can send the prescription to the hospital’s pharmacy, and you can pick it up today. Filgrastim is a medication designed to increase the number of stem cells in your bloodstream, which is essential for the transplant. As for the medication itself, it will come in the form of injections. You have the option of having someone administer them for you-”

I don’t, Jack thought sadly

“-but you can also do it yourself. The pharmacist will provide you with instructions on how to self-administer the injections,” Dr. Navarro explains, wrapping up the details.

Jack absorbed every word from the doctor, committing each detail to memory.

“Now, as for Ángel,” Dr. Navarro continued, “we're going to initiate a seven-day course of chemotherapy. In addition, he’ll need to have a port surgically placed on his chest. Ports are the preferred method for administering chemotherapy, as it minimizes the need for repeated needle insertions in his arms. He will need to undergo surgery-”

Both you and Jack exhibited a shared expression of concern, your faces visibly falling as your brows furrowed, and you clutched the arms of your chairs, pausing anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Navarro reassured hastily, sensing your apprehension, “the incision will be only about an inch long, and the entire procedure should take roughly an hour.”

"Will he be in pain afterward?" Jack questioned, despising the idea that his son would be poked and prodded.

“I expect some soreness around the area, but we’ll provide him with ibuprofen to alleviate the discomfort,” the doctor reassured.

Another procedure? I fucking hate this you thought to yourself. Even though Ángel’s doctor and the entire medical team had meticulously planned everything and were the best of the best, it didn’t prevent you from spiraling into a whirlwind of concern.

"How long until the transplant day?” you prompted.

“We can fit Ángel in for surgery tonight and begin the chemo tomorrow morning,” Dr. Navarro responded.

“Mr. Daniels, it’s crucial that you are fully committed to donating because after Ángel receives his first dose of chemo, his immune system will be compromised. In fact, we don’t allow visitors until after the seven days are over.”

Jack's shoulders slumped. Ever since he had met his son, being separated from Ángel felt like he was missing a vital part of himself.

“When can he have visitors again?” Jack's voice was submerged in anxiety.

“After the seven days of chemo, you will come into the hospital, and we’ll collect your cells through an Apheresis machine. This machine will extract your blood and separate it into two categories: blood and stem cells. We need the stem cells, but your blood will be cycled back into your bloodstream. The process should take about three hours, and Ángel will receive the stem cells within 24 hours. You won't be able to visit him until the fifth day after his transplant. I expect him to stay in the hospital for 25 days, at most, possibly up to 30 days.”

“That long?” Jack questioned, his concern evident.

“Unfortunately,” he nodded solemnly. “We have to wait for him to graft. That means your donor stem cells must incorporate into Ángel’s bone marrow, where they will start producing healthy blood cells. Fanconi anemia is a disorder that impairs the bone marrow's ability to generate sufficient blood cells, so it's crucial to ensure that Ángel's body can produce enough red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets.”

You released a deep sigh. “As long as he'll be okay after this.”

Dr. Navarro nodded in agreement. “I hope this transplant will be curative for Ángel's disorder, Mrs. Peña. What do you both think about the plan?”

Jack gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s do it,” Jack declared.

“I think it's a good plan. I'll need to discuss it with my husband, but I'm sure he'll agree,” you said.

“Perfect. I’ll place the order for Mr. Daniels' medication, and later, I'll visit Ángel's room to confirm the plan or make any necessary adjustments,” the doctor said, rising from his seat.

Jack helped you stand from your chair, his hand still intertwined with yours, while your free hand instinctively rested on your stomach, cradling the precious bump.

“Thank you, Doc,” Jack expressed his gratitude, turning to the doctor and offering a firm handshake.

“No need to thank me,” Dr. Navarro humbly deflected the praise.

“Muchas gracias (thank you so much),” you sincerely added, your voice quivering on the edge of tears as you expressed your gratitude in his office.

“No. Nada de lágrimas. Estoy cumpliendo lo que les prometí a usted y su familia. Les prometí que les iba a ayudar. Déjeme enfocarme en eso y luego usted se enfoca en nuestra cena, porque alguien me prometió un pozole rojo (No. No tears. I'm fulfilling what I promised to you and your family. I promised that I would help you. Let me focus on that, and then you can focus on our dinner because someone promised me red pozole),” he chuckled and placed a hand on your shoulder.

As the doctor's hand landed on your shoulder, Jack couldn't conceal his jealousy, clenching his jaw tightly.

You laughed along with the doctor, further stoking Jack's anger.

“Bueno (Well),” you said, trying to get the end of the conversation so you could go back to your family.

“Take care,” the doctor bid farewell. Jack ushered you towards the door, too absorbed in the sensation of holding your hand to notice the gift bag left behind.

However, you halted your movement, bringing Jack's attention back to you, “Jack?”

“Yes, sugar?” Jack gazed at you, his eyes searching for your thoughts.

“The bag…” you reminded him.

He glanced at you as though you had grown three heads.

When you pointed towards the blue holographic bag resting against the doctor's desk, just where Jack's feet had been, “Oh,” he exhaled, realizing his oversight, and moved to pick it up, guiding you along with him.

“Thank you, doctor,” Jack expressed his gratitude one last time before opening the door to rushing you out of the office.

“Goodbye,” Dr. Navarro called out as Jack closed the door behind you.

Walking together in the corridor, Jack still hadn't released your hand.

“Can you let go of my hand?”

“Was he hittin’ on you?” 

You both asked simultaneously, curiosity and jealousy lurking in the air.

“Jesus, Jack,” you scoffed, your disbelief evident at his unfounded accusation regarding your son’s doctor. “I think he's a lot smarter than to hit on a pregnant, married woman,” you couldn't help but dig.

He winced, realizing that you were calling him out on his irrational behavior, a reminder of the boundaries that should be upheld in your marriage.

You couldn't hide your irritation at Jack's unwarranted jealousy. "Jack, you can't behave like that, especially not in front of Javi. You know he's my husband," you admonished firmly.

Jack's annoyance was clear, and he didn't seem willing to concede. He scoffed when you referred to Javi as your husband, his possessive thoughts still clouding his judgment. "Fine," he replied curtly, sidestepping the issue.

Just as Jack was about to say something else, he paused, audibly sighing and taking a deep breath. He turned to you, his expression softened. "May I see Ángel after ‘m done signin’ the papers, please?" he asked politely, setting aside his jealousy, at least temporarily.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still seething over Jack's behavior, and then you turned your back on him, heading into room 43 where Javi was waiting with Ángel. You hoped that Jack would come to his senses soon and realize the importance of keeping things civil for your son's sake.

You entered the room and found Ángel still asleep, while your husband, Javi, was tidying up. As he noticed you coming in, his face contorted with concern.

"¿Que dijo? (what did he say?)" Javi asked, worry lacing his voice.

You couldn't hold back your emotions any longer. You wrapped your arms around him and began to sob. He held you tightly, mindful of your stomach, bracing himself for the news that Jack wasn't a suitable match. Thoughts raced through his mind a million miles an hour as he stroked your back, offering all the comfort he could.

"He's a match," you managed to say amid your tears.

Javi stood there bewildered. For what felt like the longest time, he had carried the weight of believing that Ángel's disease was a consequence of his past actions, a sort of penance for everything he'd done in Colombia. He had convinced himself that God was punishing him and, in a twisted way, using his innocent son as a vessel for retribution.

The first time he had set foot inside a church in years was for Ángel's baptism. He remembered it vividly – the scent of aging wood, the dim lighting, and the echoing hush of whispered prayers. For Javi, it wasn't faith that led him there but the insistent pull of family expectations. He had drifted away from the church after his mother's death, the loss leaving him questioning everything he'd learned in those Sunday school classes. Ángel's baptism was more about fulfilling a tradition than any genuine religious beliefs.

Before returning to the hospital, Javi did something he hadn’t done in ages. In the quiet solitude of the church, Javier knelt at the prie-dieu, feeling the cold plushness of the cushion beneath his knees. Surrounded by an array of flickering candles, casting dancing shadows upon the sacred altar, he fixed his eyes on the image of la virgen morena (Our Lady of Guadalupe). 

He reached into his pocket and clutched his mother's rosary, a tangible link to her memory, her love, and her unwavering faith. Closing his eyes in the quiet sanctuary, he could almost hear her soft voice, like a gentle breeze, guiding him through the familiar words. It was as if she was right there with him.

‘Javier, primero empiezas con la cruz. Persignante con la señal de la santa cruz’ (Javier, first you start with the cross. Sign yourself with the sign of the holy cross), her voice whispered, and he obeyed, letting the rosary's crucifix trace the sign of the cross upon his chest, the gentle coolness of the crucifix grounding him.

She continued, ‘y reza el Credo de los Apóstoles (and pray the Apostles' Creed),’ and he recited the words, each syllable infused with the deep faith that had been instilled in him from a young age.

“Creo en Dios Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra.  Creo en Jesucristo, su único Hijo, nuestro Señor; que fue concebido por obra y gracia del Espíritu Santo,  nació de Santa María Virgen; padeció bajo el poder de Poncio Pilato, fue crucificado, muerto y sepultado; descendió a los infiernos, al tercer día resucitó entre los muertos; subió a los cielos y está sentado a la derecha de Dios Padre, Todopoderoso. Desde allí vendrá a juzgar a vivos y a muertos.  Creo en el Espíritu Santo; la Santa Iglesia Católica, la comunión de los santos; el perdón de los pecados, la resurrección de la carne; y la vida perdurable. Amén. (I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary; suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day, he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven; and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from there, he will come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.)”

‘Un Padre nuestro, (an Our Father)’ his mom's voice echoed in his head, and he whispered the words with deep devotion. He held the rosary beads tightly, letting them slide through his fingers one by one as he moved on to the next step, ‘Tres aves marías (three Hail Marys)’

"Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia. El Señor es contigo… (Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…)” The words rolled off his tongue like a precious lullaby his mom used to sing before he’d fall asleep.

‘Una gloria (a Glory Be)’, he continued with his mother’s instruction.

"Gloria al Padre, al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo… (Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…)" His voice filled the empty space, her voice mingling with his own.

‘Un misterio, luego un Padre nuestro en la bolita del medio, y después un avemaría en cada bolita que sigue, diez en total. Seguido por una gloria, y luego un jaculatorio. Tienes que repetir esto cinco veces (A mystery, then an Our Father on the middle bead, and then one Hail Mary on each of the following beads, ten in total. Followed by a Glory Be, and then a short prayer. You have to repeat this five times)’, his mom whispered.

At the end, he reached the point where he felt an overwhelming need to add a Penitential Act. His voice quivered as he began.

“Yo confieso ante Dios Todopoderoso, y ante ustedes hermanos, que he pecado mucho de pensamiento, palabra, obra y omisión. Por mi culpa, por mi culpa- (​​I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned through my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do; through my fault, through my fault-)” his voice faltered, and he couldn't continue. His throat felt constricted as if an invisible hand was crushing his larynx, and knots of guilt and emotion tied up his words.

“-por mi gran culpa (-through my most grievous fault)” por mi gran culpa, por mi gran culpa (through my most grievous fault, through my most grievous fault,) he repeated fervently. He didn't even realize he had been crying until his face started to itch. Tears streamed down his face, landing on his dress shirt and the cold, hard floor below.

In that solemn moment, he let out years of repressed memories, reliving the weight of his past, and profusely apologizing for all the harm he had caused, especially to the innocent. 

With eyes tightly shut, he was transported to the alley in Colombia, reliving the horrors he couldn't erase from his memory. The images of children caught in the crossfire of violence haunted him. He begged for forgiveness, especially for failing to prevent Carillo from murdering a child in a dark alley, right before the eyes of other young boys, the youngest, Ángel’s age. With his eyes tightly closed, he saw Fredy's lifeless body, the son of Gacha, inside that red truck. 

That's why my son is going through this. It's all my fault, the agonizing guilt echoed within him as he continued to pour out his remorse, bargaining, and making promises to a higher power. His voice was thick with sorrow and repentance as he sought forgiveness for his past sins.

With each echo in his head, Javi found himself involuntarily drawn closer to the flickering flames of the candles. Their heat was so intense that he could feel the warmth of the fire, causing beads of sweat to form along his hairline.

He continued with the confiteor prayer, “Por eso ruego a Santa María siempre Virgen, a los ángeles, a los santos y a ustedes hermanos, que intercedan por mí ante Dios, Nuestro Señor (That's why I pray to Saint Mary, ever Virgin, to the angels, to the saints, and to you, my brothers, to intercede for me before God, Our Lord.)”

Concluding the prayer with his mother's rosary, he began another prayer. With a heart heavy with love for his son, he begged and pleaded for a match that could save Ángel's life, his plea echoing through the sacred silence of the church.

‘Ya, Javi, va estar bien, ya veras, (Enough, Javi, it's going to be fine, you'll see.)’ he heard his mom’s voice.

The sound of your voice crying out in the present brought Javi back to reality. He snapped out of the memory and looked at you. 

"He's going to get the transplant?" he asked, his eyes already glossy with unshed tears.

You nodded in response, fresh tears cascading down your cheeks - this time, you couldn't blame it on your pregnancy.

Javi leaned over and gently kissed your cheek before guiding you to sit on the nearby sofa. You leaned into him, seeking solace in his comforting presence, and began to recount everything Dr. Navarro explained.

After you finished explaining, both of you moved to sit in chairs beside Ángel's bed. Javi tenderly brushed Ángel's hair away from his forehead, gazing at him with an unmistakable love shining in his eyes.

“¿Qué piensas? (What are you thinking about?)” you asked.

"¿Y su pelo? (And his hair?)" Javi exhaled, his voice tinged with concern. "I know it's not the most important thing in the world, but... I don't know," he trailed off, sounding a bit defeated. "Forget I said anything," he quickly added, trying to dismiss his worries.

He didn't have to articulate his thoughts; you understood perfectly. Javi knew how much Ángel loved his hair, and although it might appear like a small concern in the grand scheme of things, his hair would grow back after the chemo, just like new leaves after a long winter.

Understanding that Javi wasn't prepared to share everything that was troubling him at this moment, you decided not to press him for more words. After all, this was the rule you both followed religiously – to communicate about anything and everything, even if it happened immediately or took time to talk through it. You could sense that this time, it was the latter, so you attempted to divert his thoughts from whatever was haunting him.

"He does have great hair," you said with a soft smile.

"Te sacó a ti (He got it from you)," Javi chuckled lightly, appreciating that you were waiting for him to share everything he was thinking about.

You hummed contentedly, leaning into his shoulder. "Mmm, thank you. I know," you playfully responded, a hint of a smile dancing on your lips.

“I love it when you’re humble,” he teased, but his eyes were filled with adoration. 

Javi placed a hand behind your back, gently caressing your stomach with one hand and playing with Ángel's hair with the other. In this comforting embrace, you reassured each other that your son would be all right.

As you settled into the moment, Javi's phone chimed. He carefully and reluctantly withdrew his hand from your stomach and Ángel's head, giving his son a loving kiss before pressing his lips lightly against the top of your head.

“Llegó algo, ahorita regreso, mi vida (Something came, I’ll be back soon, my love),” he apologized. 

Two minutes later – not that you were counting (you totally were) – Javi returned with a yellow plastic bag.

“¿Qué compraste? (What did you buy?)”

He remained silent, a sly smile gracing his lips.

“Cierra tus ojos (Close your eyes),” he instructed.

You squinted at him suspiciously, prompting, “¿Qué, qué compraste? (I said, what did you buy?)”

“Terca, que cierres tus ojos (Stubborn girl, I said to close your eyes),” he insisted, chuckling at your persistence.

"Fine," you huffed in mock frustration and obediently closed your eyes.

You heard the faint crackling of the plastic bag and Javi muttering a few cuss words as he struggled to take out whatever he had bought. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Ríete y no te doy nada (Laugh and I won’t give you anything)," Javi warned, though the playful tone in his voice was unmistakable.

"No me estoy riendo de ti, nomás me acordé de algo (I’m not laughing at you; I just remembered something)," you lied, biting your lip to stifle your mirth, unable to contain your laughter.

"Mhm, te creo, pero no le cuentes a nadie (Mhm, I believe you, just don’t tell anyone)," he replied, clearly not convinced.

The sound of him opening and closing the small fridge and then drawing nearer to you reached your ears. With an instruction to open your eyes, you complied, letting your eyelids flutter open. Before you, Javi presented a styrofoam cup with a straw already in place.

The cup bore a familiar logo, two simple letters: 'AD.' Overwhelmed with emotion, you stared at the cup, your heart swelling.

"Sweetheart, don't cry," Javi said, kneeling down to rub your thigh in an attempt to soothe you.

"I'm sorry," you replied between cries, "goddamn hormones," you added with frustration.

"Shh, it's okay," Javi murmured, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear.

You blinked your tears away and patted the spot beside you, inviting Javi to sit.

He held his own cup in hand and handed yours with a warm smile.

“Gracias (Thank you),” you said gratefully, taking a sip, already knowing what was inside the cup.

The familiar cold, thick substance filled your mouth, and your taste buds exploded with the flavor of strawberries, coupled with a dollop of whipped cream.

A contented groan escaped your lips, and Javi mirrored your reaction upon his first sip.

“Te amo (I love you),” you whispered, your voice brimming with affection.

“Yo más (I love you),” he replied, and you didn’t doubt him one bit.

Four months had passed since you moved out of your shared home with Jack. Javi had been persistent in taking you out during this time, wanting to distract you from the changes in your life. On a Friday night, he suggested a diner he had heard about, and there you were, parked in the lot of an unfamiliar place.

Javi turned off his truck, he turned to you, and told you to wait. Before you could object, he hopped out of the vehicle. Quickly, he was by your passenger door, extending his hand to assist you.

"Javi, I'm not that far along. I can get out by myself," you protested, not giving him your hand at first.

“¿Y si te lastimas? (And if you get hurt?)” he replied, concern in his eyes. You relented and placed your hand in his, and he guided you down from the truck with an excess of "watch your step" warnings that made you playfully roll your eyes. 

Once you were safely on the ground, you offered a begrudging "thank you" and pulled him close, placing a kiss on his cheek. Under the red light emanating from the diner's sign, you couldn't see it, but Javi's face had turned scarlet. 

Before you could step away, he said, "Wait," and took off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

You returned his sweet gesture with a warm smile, and Javi fought the urge to lean down and kiss you. Instead, he wrapped his arm around you and guided you to the front entrance of the restaurant.

The neon lights of the diner read 'Angel's Diner' in red.

"I like that name," you both said simultaneously and then shared a laugh as you heard each other voice the same thought.

With a grin, Javi said, "C'mon." He ushered you into the diner, and a friendly hostess in a bright blue uniform greeted you.

"Welcome, y'all. My name is Trixie, follow me," she smiled, picking up two menus before leading you deeper into the restaurant. She kindly asked if you had a seating preference, and Javi requested a table in the back corner.

The diner's interior was adorned with a color scheme of red, white, and black. The counter had a glossy checked pattern, accompanied by red spinning stools. Though it wasn't packed, there were scattered customers throughout.

Trixie guided you to a cozy booth in the back, placing two menus on the table. Javi helped you onto the bench and took the opposite seat, facing you. His back was against the wall, providing a clear view of the front door and the entire layout of the diner.

The walls were adorned with picture frames, except for one side, which faced a large window. A short, white curtain hung from the window frame, delicately covering the edges. The curtain was decorated with flower cutouts along the bottom, and a long stitched green line ran across the curtain with embroidered leaves on either curtain sheet. On the stitching, there were four roosters made from silk material.

"Would ya'll like to order drinks?" the hostess, who also doubled as a waitress, asked.

"Yes, please," you replied and your eyes quickly scanned the drink section. The thought of a chocolate milkshake was mouthwatering. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake, please.” 

"I'll have a strawberry milkshake, please," Javi ordered.

 "Coming right up," Trixie said cheerfully. "I'll be back with your shakes and take your order," she assured before walking away.

“¿Qué vas a pedir? (What are you going to order?)” Javi asked as he perused his own menu.

"Mmm, I don't know," you grumbled as you flipped through the menu. "I want something sweet but savory," your eyes landed on something. "Ooo, chicken waffles sound good," you said, already savoring the idea.

"That does sound good," Javi agreed just as the waitress showed up with the milkshakes.

She placed the chocolate one in front of you and the strawberry in front of Javi. Javi noticed the rings they left on the table, so he grabbed two coasters and placed the shakes on top. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"We are," Javi confirmed. "We'll have two orders of the chicken waffles," he told Trixie. "Do you want anything else?" he asked you.

"No, that's it, thank you," you replied, your mind already set on the delicious chicken and waffles.

"Alright, it'll be out in a few minutes," the waitress assured and took your menus before she walked away to place your order.

You took a sip of your chocolate milkshake and felt a pang of disappointment; it didn't quite satisfy your craving.

Your eyes lingered on Javi's strawberry milkshake. The pink, thick liquid in his cup made your mouth water.

Javi quickly noticed your expression.

"I don't really like the strawberry milkshake," Javier lied. He was confident that you wouldn't have asked for a sip, and he didn't want you to feel like you had to waste your chocolate shake.

“Hubiera ordenado el de chocolate (I should’ve ordered the chocolate one),” he grumbled. "Do you like yours?" Javier asked.

"Sí. 'Ta bueno (Yes. It’s good)," you replied, even though it was a white lie.

"Wanna trade?" Javi suggested.

"Yes, please," you beamed and switched the milkshakes with him.

Javi loved strawberry milkshakes, but he loved you more than anything.

You took a sip of your new strawberry shake, and it was exactly what you had been craving. Javi couldn't help but smile, knowing he had made you happy.

Trixie brought the food and set down the plates of chicken and waffles along with a salt and pepper shaker holder with a rooster standing on rocks in the middle.

"Enjoy," she said with a warm smile and left.

You glanced at the curtains and the salt and pepper shakers, instantly reminded of a childhood memory you and Javi shared, and you burst into laughter.

"Remember when you chased that rooster around trying to catch it with your bare hands?" you asked amid fits of laughter.

Javi joined in your laughter at the recollection.

"¿Y por qué hiciste eso? (And why did you do that?)" you asked, genuinely curious about his motivations.

"I was trying to show off!" he admitted.

"Why?" You chuckled. 

"Because I wanted to impress you," he confessed.

"And you thought I would have been impressed by you catching a damn chicken? I begged you to stop," you laughed.

“Ey, preteen boys do anything to impress their crush," Javi explained, not quite realizing the implication behind his words.

"Wait, you had a crush on me?" your question made him suddenly aware of what he had admitted.

"Uh, yeah," he replied and rubbed his neck bashfully. "I never stopped. In fact, I love you," he confessed, unable to hold back his feelings.

"I'm sorry, you're going through a lot, I didn't mean to-" Javi began, but you didn't let him finish.

"No!" You said firmly, and the sudden attention from others made you instinctively lower your voice. Javi reached out, gently taking your hand in his. You continued, "It's fine. Maybe... maybe we can see where we are in a few months from here?"

His face lit up with the most heartwarming smile, and you knew that resistance was futile. You had already started falling for him.

A/N:  I haven't been the most consistent writer on here, and I apologize for that. In addition to my irregular schedule, I also got sick with COVID, but I'm much better now :) I did my best with the graphic, but I'm not really satisfied with it, so I'm sorry about that 😖 My favorite graphic that I've ever created is for 4K:

I didn't originally intend to post that particular fic, but I was going through my usual routine for this chapter, and then suddenly, I found myself creating a graphic for 4K?? Anyway, there is one more chapter left if I decide to space the rest out the way I think I want to. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the next one sooner than I did with this one!

I know that in my previous chapters, Jack's dialogue didn't accurately reflect his Southern accent. Being the first English speaker in my family and living in the DMV area, I'm not well-versed in the Southern accent. I tried to fix this in the current chapter by adjusting Jack's dialogue to better represent a Southern accent, with the keyword being 'tried.'

Speaking of dialogue, I think I have problems with it. I'm Autistic, and one of the diagnostic features is difficulties in social communication, which I struggle with. I hope that my dialogue doesn't come across as dry 😕

As always, thank you for reading!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

[ily-fictional-women]

Honey Loving

Summary: A sweet vacation for a sweet person

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know

Word count: 1409

a/n: Finally posting again!! This is a happy one-shot this time I swear! Also, any text that <”looks like this”> is someone talking in a different language. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

It had been a stressful few months for both Wanda and Y/n. Wanda had been on a long undercover mission for about two months. And unfortunately, about a week before Wanda was able to come back Y/n had been sent on her own mission for a month alone.

Finally settling back into being together again Y/n wanted to surprise Wanda with something special to make up for lost time. Y/n tip-toed into the room they share before flopping on the bed and grabbing the remote to the TV.

Y/n pauses Wanda’s show looking at her micheviously, “Pack a bag.” Wanda raises an eyebrow at Y/n’s smile, “And why should I do that exactly?” Y/n pulls Wanda by her arms dragging her out of the bed so they’re both standing.

"Because we're going on a vacation to your hometown." Wanda cracks a small smile, “Wait really?”

“Yeah! I already cleared everything with Steve and bought the plane tickets. You should pack tonight though because our plane leaves pretty early in the morning.” With the confirmation, the two start packing together, with the only detail Y/n’s willing to reveal being that they’ll be gone for two weeks.

//

Boarding the plane and settling into the seats Wanda looks over at Y/n curiously, “Is there something I could help you with.” Wanda sighs, “Can you at least tell me one thing you have planned? Just one.”

“Okay, fine. After we drop off everything at the hotel I was planning for us to go to lunch at the one place you told me about, the one your parents took you to with Pietro when you were little. They re-opened a few weeks ago.”

Wanda kisses Y/n on the cheek at the confession, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Y/n lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, but I’m never gonna get tired of hearing it.”

//

With the two finally making it to the hotel they both flop onto the single bed. After a few minutes of simply laying there, Wanda gets up ramaging through one of the bags. Y/n sits up to see Wanda stealing her own sweater that she packed for herself.

“You have a whole suitcase full of your clothes, and you still insist on wearing mine?” Wanda freezes in the middle of putting on the sweater, “In my defense, I can't help it if your clothes are so comfortable."

Getting out of bed Y/n kisses Wanda sweetly, “Alright, but that does mean I’m taking one of yours. It’s only fair.” Wanda rolls her eyes sarcastically, “Deal.”

After the two change, they make their way walking to the restaurant Wanda hand mentioned. Passing by multiple shops Wanda stops in her tracks looking at different items in a store through a big window. “What caught your eye?”

Wanda’s head snaps back towards Y/n, “The necklace with the little red gem in the center.” Y/n looks over at her, “It’s cute! You should get it,” her voice softens “It would look great on you.” Wanda shrugs, “I don’t know, it’s pricey. Maybe on our last day.”

“Whatever you say.” Y/n intertwines her hand with Wanda’s as they continue making their way to the restaurant.

//

Finally making it to the small restaurant for lunch the two get comfortable at the booth table looking over the menu. The place was family owned and the two who mainly ran the place only spoke Sokovian. Because of this as the waitress came to take the order Wanda started to list the order, <“She’ll take the number three-”>

But Y/n cut her off, <"Actually I'll take the number one on the menu with sauce on the side, please. But she’ll have the number four on the menu,"> you look up at her from the menu, <"did you want anything else love?">

Wanda looked lovesick, "Uh, no. No, I'm good." As the waitress leaves finishing scribbling the order onto her yellow notepad Wanda looks over at Y/n with raised eyebrows, "When did you learn Sokovian?" Y/n grins at her, " I wanted to surprise you."

Wanda kisses Y/n across the table, “God you’re adorable.” Y/n giggles at the light blush growing across Wanda’s face, “Thank you.” Wanda smiles, “So how long have you been practicing? You sounded flunet back there.”

Y/n takes a sip of the water on the table, “I think around five or six months. But I mostly practiced when either of us were away on a mission.” Wanda leans in closer to Y/n squinting her eyes playfully, “Okay, but how did you know what I wanted to order? Last I checked I was the one who could read mind in the relationship.”

Y/n leans in closer to Wanda with a confident smile, “It was one of our earlier dates. I asked you what your favorite childhood meal was and you answered with that specific one. I wrote it down after the date in case we ever visited.”

Wanda rolls her eyes dramatically, “You make it too easy to be in love with you, did you know that?” Y/n leans back into her seat, “I guess it’s a talent of mine.” Once the food comes the two eat and laugh, later exploring some of the area and looking into different stores.

Making it back to the apartment late Wanda lands on the bed letting out a satisfied groan at being able to relax a lie down. Y/n lays next to Wanda, “Did you want dinner?” Wanda shifts in bed getting more comfortable, “Yeah I could eat.”

Y/n pulls out her phone, “I’ll order something right now then.” Wanda looks over Y/n for a moment before slowly shutting her eyes, “Did you want me to come with you and pick it up?” Y/n shakes her head kissing Wanda on the forehead, “No it’s fine, relax. Take a nap or something. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“Are you sure?” Wanda asks. Y/n gives her a reassuring look, “Yes, don’t worry about it. Relax for a bit.” Wanda nods in agreement. As Y/n leaves Wanda gets up running a bath feeling the need to wash up after walking around everywhere.

//

It’s been close to an hour now and hearing the close of the main door Wanda gets out of the bathtub putting on one of the complimentary robes. “Hey, sorry it took so long. There was a big line for pick up and then they messed up the order so I had to wait even longer.”

Meeting Y/n in the living area Wanda notices another bag on the table that doesn’t match the ones the food came. “What’s in the black bag?” Y/n glances over at the bag Wanda was talking about.

“Well, I did want to wait until after dinner. But, I do want to see you in it now.” Wanda crosses her arms with a questioning grin, “See me in what exactly.” Y/n pulls out a sleek black box from the bag opening it to reveal the necklace from earlier today.

Wanda gently grabs the box marvling at the necklace, “You looked like you really wanted it so I figured I would buy it for you instead.”

“I love it, thank you.” Y/n looks down at the necklace with Wanda, “Did you want me to help you put it on?” Wanda nods moving her wet hair to one side. Standing behind Wanda Y/n clicks the two clasps together. Wanda turns around to face Y/n.

Y/n moves a stray piece of hair behind Wanda’s ear, “Well I was right about it looking good on you.” Wanda quickly kisses Y/n before grinning to herself, “I think I know a special way to thank you for everything today.”

She kisses Y/n again, the kiss more fervent this time. Y/n breaks from the kiss taking a second to breathe, “And what kind of special thank you would that be?” Wanda rolls her eyes at the question pushing Y/n onto the bed, “I could show you if you want.”

Y/n puts up her hands in mock surrender, “Oh by all means please do.” The rest of the trip itself was full of laughter, good food, love, and many more sweet moments, What more could you really ask for?

[wen-kexing-apologist]

The Language of Love in La Pluie Ep. 8

Alright internet, my Pride events have ended, and I have returned home, so though I am a day late and a dollar short, you know what time it is….

Alright so I want to get a couple of smaller details out of the way first, as an appetizer before we get into the meaty parts of the episode. 

Gif from @ueasking

I counted and Bow and Kung hold hands in three separate scenes and that is enough evidence for me that they have fucked nasty. Moving on. 

There were two micromovements that I really appreciated in this episode, one from Lomfon and one from Patts. Unfortunately I will be bringing them to you in the form of screenshots because we *still* need people to be getting louder and gayer about this show and I am seeing a grossly low number of gifs for a show this fucking good. 

We know that Lomfon is interested in Tai, from the keychain he has, to the way that he immediately started questioning Tai’s connection to Patts vis a vis the soulmate thing, and those feelings Lomfon is still hung up on manifest in these very small ways. Namely, that Tai says he is bringing lunch to Patts and Lomfon’s head whips up

He looks a bit sad, and then he turns his head away so that he isn’t being obvious about this quiet devastation he has every time that he hears Tai talk about Patts. Because even though this show is clearly setting the stage of Lomfon and Tien to get together, London really needs to see that Tai understands that the hearing loss may not actually make you hear your “soulmate” and that Tai and Patts chose each other anyway, before he can truly allow himself to move on. 

By the by, one thing I am curious about with Lomfon is if now that he has heard Tai and Patts when it rained, if he will start changing his own mindset about soulmates. Kind of like a switcheroo, you know? Tai believes in soulmates so strongly that the divorce of his parents shook him to his core because it went his core belief that the hearing loss connects you to your soulmate, and he has learned throughout the course of this story and throughout the course of navigating his relationship to and with Patts that he cares less about whether or not the hearing loss connects to your soulmate, and more about the feelings he has for Patts. Lomfon believes so strongly that soulmates don’t exist because he has a crush on Tai, if he can now hear Tai, will he start believing that actually soulmates do exist and he and Tai are meant to be together, or will it further solidify his belief that soulmates don’t exist and he and Tai are meant to be together. Either way, he’s spent a total of like 1 minute of screen time with Tai so we know how this is gonna go, and it will not be pretty for Lomfon if he doesn’t wake up to his feelings for Tien soon. 

Ok, second micromovement is with Patts, who takes a microscopic step back when Nara tries to hand him the Bento Box

He wants to be fed by Tai, (or more accurately wants to eat Tai but I think we’ll be getting to that in Episode 9). Patts sees Nara and immediately knows why she is here. 

And what I love about Patts is that he isn’t mad or angry, he knows the ways in which his hearing loss and the potential of a soulmate has consistently harmed his relationship with Nara and how much she was willing to sacrifice of her own peace of mind to continue a relationship with Patts because she loves him. He loves her too, although not romantically anymore, and I know this because this is not the face of a man who is like “why the fuck is my ex coming over here when we very clearly separated?” This is the face of a man who knows precisely why she is here and is already feeling guilty about having to let Nara down once again, and confirm the fears she had while in their relationship about losing him to the stranger in his head. 

So in terms of body language, Patts cannot be more clear that he is no longer interested in Nara, and it is why I love that Tai explicitly tells Patts that he isn’t mad about what happened. 

Patts hands stay at his sides, he does not respond to any of her movements, he never touches her, he doesn’t deepen the kiss, he doesn’t even move his lips. If we look back at other examples of times he has kissed someone he loves, we know that this is not his standard operating procedure. Even in the flashback to his last kiss with Nara two months prior, he was in to the his, he was touching the back of her neck, he was an enthusiastic participant. Here, he lets her kiss him because he knows that Nara needs both a final confirmation that his feelings for her are no longer what they once were and a final goodbye so she can transition in to a new phase of her relationship to Patts, friends. (At least I hope they are able to remain friends, with the way Nara care about Tai’s wellbeing and the way she understands how important Tai is to Patts, I want more stories that allow exes to be friends.)

Tai sees them, drops his bisexual flag coded bento box he prepared for Patts and runs off to the mountain to spiral about his feelings about Patts, soulmates, and his sincerity of his connection to both of them. 

Patts finds the lunchbox, uses that veterinarian brain of his to make the connection and immediately starts looking for Tai. Which leads us to the first crack in Tien’s armor. Something I already talked about in my stray thoughts post because I was too busy being gay and my brain was too busy coming down from the high this episode brought me that I was not able to turn my analysis brain on.

We got Tien breaking down, running off to go do something brash and stupid…like climb a mountain with no preparation…like brother like brother I guess…and Lomfon chasing after him to make sure that he does not. 

Now, Tien says “Doi Mae Pilang. Soul mate.” with a concerned and searching tone in his voice, and Lomfon reacts by looking genuinely concerned back.

We can argue back and forth about whether or not this concern is for Tai or for Tien, but the fact remains that Lomfon’s eyes are laser focused on Tien. He is worried and waiting, and it takes less than a second for Lomfon to go chasing after Tien when he takes off towards the mountain. 

At which point we get our first intentional, certain touch from Lomfon to Tien. Whereas previously, we saw that Lomfon was struggling to figure out where and how to place himself, and his hands when Tien took a nap on him, here, he is does not get lost in his head. He grabs Tien firm by the arm

Gif from @ueasking

By the shoulders

Gif from @ueasking

By the chest

Gif from @liyazaki who is as much of a hands demon as I am

Who keeps Tien pressed closely too him, and tells him, firmly, sincerely that he is here for Tien 

Gif from @liyazaki from their before and after post

And though this moment is washed the fuck out because of the light, I love that effect explicitly because to me, this is a visual representation of the idea that Lomfon is bringing light and warmth in to Tien’s life. Or that he will be. In this scene Lomfon is acting like a guide to Tien, making sure that he does not run off and get himself hurt too, making sure that he knows that he has support, comforting him when he is upset. 

And while at first Tien is turned away from it, trying to break from it, running from it, eventually he melts. 

Gifs from @liyazaki

And Lomfon reacts initially with a brief moment of surprise, before once again placing all his attention on studying Tien. This is a moment of vulnerability for Tien, something we have not seen, and Lomfon is taking it in stride. In fact, the only people that Tien has really let himself lose control around has been Lomfon. He trusted Lomfon enough to get drunk around him, to take a nap on him, to cry in front of him. 

Even with Tai, while he allowed himself to be mad, and to hug his brother tightly, and to cry, Tai did not see and will not see the full on breakdown Tien had the previous day. Tien does not let Tai know how impacted he is by anything, because he has been acting as an emotional support for Tai for the past two years. As a fellow emotional laborer, I have an extremely difficult time asking people for help and an even harder time when it comes to people who I know are also emotional laborers. Tien has been doing a massive amount of emotional labor for Tai, and that means not letting Tai in to the entire depth of his own thoughts and feelings. At least, that’s part of my read on it. 

So what do we get from Lomfon’s physicality with Tien in this scene? When Lomfon places his hands on Tien, he does not move his fingers, not like Patts does with Tai. But that does not mean that there is no movement in these scenes. His head moves, he is turning his attention to Tien. His eyes move, he is analyzing Tien and trying to read his emotions, trying to adapt to this new version of Tien he has never seen before. Lomfon moves his body, he rocks with Tien when Tien starts to collapse, when they hug, Lomfon is moving with Tien, but his hands remain steady. When Tien hugs him at the end, he pats Tien’s back and while he’s not slapping him, he is certainly not patting his back gently/softly.  Lomfon is solid, stable, logical. He will pull Tien back when Tien’s passion escapes from its leash. He will ground Tien when the world feels like it’s falling out from under him. But he he will not be so rigid that Tien is unable to do things he wants/needs to, he can still move the way he needs to, when he wants to change his position, he breaks free easily from Lomfon’s grasp, when he turns to hug Lomfon, Lomfon is not expecting it but he leans in to the hug, he roll with it. He lets Tien feel what he needs to feel, but makes sure that Tien is safe. 

We head up the mountain.

Gratuitous inclusion of Tai’s hand because I am absolutely obsessed with those rings on his fingers. 

Anyway, 

Rain and as a result, water, are incredibly important as a theme of this show. First of all, water belongs to gay people, second of all, rain and as a result, water connect Tai and Patts together, connected Tai’s parents together, still connects them together because as far as we know they will continue to remain voices in each other’s heads. So it is incredibly apt that Tai, when walking up this mountain to get clarity on where he himself stands in his beliefs around soul mates, in his relationship to Patts, falls and lands in water. 

Again, @respectthepetty taught me to look out for lines as barriers and lines as connectors. Here we have Tai’s hand, keeping him connected to water, and his sweater has two likes that visually still block his hand from the rest of his body. He has not yet figured out what his connection with himself and his beliefs are yet, and therefore despite the fact he’s reaching for it. Reaching for that knowledge, dipping a finger into the cleansing waters, he still does not have the clarity he needs. 

Until Patts shows up. 

Touch, again, this time with Patts hand resting over Tai’s shoulder, with Tai’s head cradled in Patt’s arm, with Tai’s back leaning up against Patts’ leg. Patts’ hand brushing gently across Tai’s side. 

Tai, injured, in pain, and about to faint called out to the man he’d refused to talk to for two years, and got an answer, and then Tai fell silent once again. 

“I was so worried about you”

“I can always find you”

“We are soul mates” 

And Tai smiles at that because he doesn’t care anymore, because he doesn’t care if the rain is right, if soul mates are real, Patts is here, Patts was worried, Patts will find him, Patts is patient, and reliable, and caring, and Tai can allow himself to give in to loving him. 

And if you will entertain me for just a moment, I want you to scroll back up a little to the wideshots of Tai cradled in Patts’ arms, and I want you to look at the hand that is draped along Tai’s ribs, and I want you to see the way Patts fingers move. We know from their previous make out scenes that Patts is constantly moving his fingers, scratching, and pressing, and ghosting over Tai. Here too, we see the trend continue, of these small ways that Patts gives comfort to Tai. Whereas Lomfon’s movements with Tien are bigger, firmer, more solid, because Tien needs stability and reliability like that. Tien’s emotions are simple but big, needing to be contained. Patts’ movements are smaller, gentle, softer, because Tai needs patience and comfort. Tai’s emotions are more complicated but simmering, needing to be carefully and meticulously tended to. 

Patts carries Tai down the mountain.

And Tai owes Patts an explanation. You know what, no, not an explanation, a conversation. Tai is ready to talk about these thoughts he has been having, the fears and hesitations that have been bubbling just beneath the surface, close enough to Patts to see them, close enough for Patts to rein in his horniness because he can tell that Tai isn’t comfortable having that level of intimacy with him yet. Because Patts knows a little bit about Tai’s hesitations, he has heard twice now the story of Tai’s parents’ divorce. 

And though at first he gave Tai comfort, when he found him by the water, when he wasn’t conscious, when he was more disoriented, and though he carried Tai down the mountain. Here is where conversation grows serious, and Patts, not being certain of where Tai is going to land with all of this, keeps his hands to himself. Tai tells him about how seeing Patts and Nara kiss got him thinking about, worrying about, wether Patts was giving up a truly good thing with Nara under the assumption that he and Tai were just supposed to be together. Tai tells him about everything, about how much it fucking hurts to worry about all this soulmate business, to be scared of all this soulmate business. About halfway through this monologue Patts starts fidgeting with his own hands, whether that is to rub out the growing anxiety in him or to get out some of the need he has to touch Tai I am not certain, but you can tell the gears in his brain are turning.

And it is not until Tai after Tai says he is not mad about Patts and Nara and after he admits that all “it fucking hurts” to grapple with whether or not soulmates exist and what that means for him, where Patts finally reaches out to comfort Tai. 

Even when he doesn’t yet know where this conversation is going. Even when it is entirely possible that Patts has just risked his life to rescue Tai, carried him down the mountain, and may still be broken up with because Tai is scared or uncertain. Even here in this moment of limbo, Patts still reaches out to Tai to make sure Tai feels how much Patts cares for him. 

Then he doesn’t let go. His hand moves from Tai’s back, to Tai’s elbow, to Tai’s thigh, Patts never breaking his attention on Tai while Tai talks him through his realizations. 

Patts is honest too, and destroys the last remaining threads of doubt Tai had in this relationship by assuring Tai that regardless of whether or not soul mates exist, regardless of whether or not that telepathic link that people get somehow miraculously connects them with their soulmate, that Patts loves Tai and would love Tai anyway. Patts may call Tai his soul mate, but he doesn’t have to see Tai that way, and he doesn’t need to be seen that way by Tai in order for their relationship to work. 

The theme I am loving the most that is coming out of La Pluie centers around that subversion. Tai believed wholeheartedly in soulmates, and that belief was shattered before his very eyes with his parents. Patts sees Tai at the bus stop with a cat, and finds him cute, before Tai and Patts even know they are the voices in each other’s heads, there is an obvious attraction. They are interested in each other because they are interested in each other, not because of the hearing loss. Tai holds himself back from falling too deeply for Patts, for being too intimate with Patts because he cannot get over the idea that one day it might possibly fall apart. But Tai’s father himself told Patts that these relationships take work. All relationships take work. If soulmates exist, and if you are somehow connected to them in your head, and if one day you meet, and fall in love, you cannot rely on the knowledge that you are soulmates to save you from ruining a relationship. If you don’t talk, if you don’t compromise, if you aren’t honest, if you don’t work at it, you won’t make it out the other end. 

And again, that is if soulmates exist, and I think with Episode 8, La Pluie is planting a flag firmly in the “soulmates do not exist” camp. 

Tai relinquishes the ideas he had about soulmates, and finally allows himself to love Patts.

Going back to physicality you can see Patts visibly relax and smile after Tai tells him he is happy that Patts is there. At which point 

gif from @liyazaki

Patts gets playful and cuddly, his hands wrap familiarly around Tai’s waist, Patts’ head slots in perfectly right where it belongs on Tai’s shoulder, and Tai lets himself be enveloped. 

gif from @liyazaki

Patts breaks out the first couples kiss, with that soft, fast sniff kiss on Tai’s cheek, because despite the fact they have not yet officially established they are boyfriends, Patts and Tai know that something in their relationship has changed.

gif from @liyazaki

Tai has come a long way from his make out session with Patts in episode 6 where he barely moved his fingers. Now, Patts and Tai war silently over who gets to hold the other’s hand. 

gif from @liyazaki

And we get a lot of lovely non-verbal communication here, both of them exhausted, needing to sleep, pressed up against each other. With Tai being hugged from behind, in beautiful parallel to his brother. They say goodnight, but Tai spends these last few minutes of consciousness before falling asleep, gently comforting Patts by gently stroking his thumb along Patts’ hand. Because he knows that Patts was worried, and that Patts has been through a lot today, and because he loves Patts, and because he can. Because he can touch Patts, because he can have these little

moments of intimacy, where he can feel Patt’s breathing against his back, where he can give small moments of comfort to someone he cares about. 

They stay like that all night, and when morning comes, Tai is still holding on to Patts. Letting Patts know that he is still there, letting Patts know that he will keep a hold of him as long as he can. From here through the end of the episode, they are touching as much as possible. 

When Tai wakes up, and sits up, Patts slides over and the inside of his elbow makes contact with Tai’s arm

They sit here together, and they talk, and Patts finally asks the question he has been wanting to ask for awhile. 

And it’s funny, isn’t it? How everyone was rushing around them? How they were strangers and then soul mates and Tai and Patts were trying to figure out how and where they fit into each others lives while at the same time knowing that regardless of whether or not this worked, that they would always be in each other’s lives in some form, because of the hearing loss. Patts and Tai can talk about boundaries in the car soon after they have met, and Patts can meet Tai’s father, and they can refer to each other as soul mates, but what does that even mean? 

What did it mean to them? What did it mean to Tai? What it meant was that Tai had something to fear, and while Tien was running around referring to Patts as his brother-in-law, Patts and Tai were in a “testing phase” as it were. With obvious attraction between them, but without having put a label on their relationship because they didn’t know where they stood. Because Patts did not know where Tai stood. 

Will you be my boyfriend? Up through this episode, we have really only heard Patts and Tai refer to each other as soul mates. Because that is what society labels people connected through the rain as. In having this conversation on Doi Mae Pliang about how it doesn’t matter if they are soulmates, Patts would still choose Tai and in Patts asking if Tai will be his boyfriend, I will be curious to see if they refer to each other differently moving forward. If we can trust the trailer for this show, we know that Patts refers to Tai at least once as his boyfriend. I think it would be especially poignant if the show moves forward with Tai and Patts referring to each other only as ‘faen’ and stepping away from the soulmate label, because the show has told us from the beginning, it’s not about soulmates at all.

gifs from @liyazaki

(tagging the la pluie defense squad: @bengiyo, @lurkingshan, @ginnymoonbeam and @shortpplfedup because its about damn time she starts the soulmates don't exist show)

[vminjackbaddie]

Feeling Lucky

authors note: eye...haven't written a one shot in such a long time but his recent activity on ig has got me in shambles and I'd like the chance to try again. now forgive me because I've always written in first person but you can still pretend. also im super rusty so im sorry if this comes out cheesy lol I am not an expert for sure! lastly, please don't repost or claim as your own. I appreciate y'all pairing: female reader & jackson wang | 1st person word count: 3.4k+ summary: it's been a lot of trial and error: using dating apps in hopes you find a serious relationship and for the third time, you find yourself disappointed with someone, feeling cursed and very unlucky. to help get your mind off of things, you go visit your best friend at the bar with 0 intentions except to enjoy yourself until jackson walks in with his own group of friends. he's eyeing you, you're eyeing him but will either one of you make a move? or will you let your "cursed" theory ruin any chance with him? genre: mature | strangers to lovers au | angst | one shot | kinda soft | fluff warnings: 21+ ONLY! some cursing, making out, small mentions of heartbreak

“…and that’s exactly why I believe dogs are far superior to cats…”

He kept rambling, spewing nonsense. Is this really my life right now? How am I sitting here, listening to this man go on and on about why dogs are better than cats? Is this supposed to be life-changing information? Definitely not! And just for the record, cats are just as good—if not better.

To make matters worse, I wish I could say this was my first bad date in ages, but that would be a lie. A month ago, I signed up for a dating app, and while things started off strong, the past two weeks have led me to men with halitosis, nonstop misogynistic comments, and now this guy: a man who thinks his monologue is more interesting than asking about me.

Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and decided to use the old bathroom excuse.

“Excuse me—sorry. Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” I said, trying not to trip over my heels as I pushed my chair back, ready to make my escape.

“Take your time! When you get back, we can talk about the ghost in my parents’ basement!” he shouted as I walked away.

I raised an eyebrow, knowing it was now or never. Ghosting isn’t my usual move, but it felt like my only option. Luckily, there was an exit door next to the women’s restroom, and I made a beeline for it. I attempted to call my best friend to fill her in on the disaster, but I reached her voicemail, followed by a quick text:

[Hey, I’m working. You okay?]

Ugh. I completely forgot she was on a shift at Oasis, a local bar. But that might not be a bad idea. I could definitely use some company and a distraction. I hopped into my car and rushed to get inside before he realized I wasn’t coming back, quickly texting her:

[Hiiii~ nvm! I’m coming by. See you soon!]

The message was brief, and as I sat at the first red light, I surprisingly didn’t feel guilty. Isn’t that awful? But honestly, while I felt bad about the first two dates, this third one confirmed that maybe my days with dating apps were over. I felt cursed—searching for real love for so long only to have every potential match turn sour as soon as we met. So tonight (and perhaps for the rest of my life), I decided to focus on enjoying myself.

Oasis wasn’t far. Within five minutes, I was in line to get in. While I waited, I noticed the coffee shop guy had bombarded me with at least eight messages, calling me every name in the book for bailing.

“Wow,” I muttered, scrolling through his barrage of insults.

“Looks like you dodged a bullet,” the bouncer said as I finally reached him.

“What? Oh yeah, he’s definitely a piece of work,” I replied, blocking his number while handing over my ID.

“You came to the right place.” He nodded as he returned my ID. While he recognized me from previous visits, I wasn’t in the mood to chat with another guy about my problems. I simply made my way to the bar.

“Danielle!” I called, spotting my best friend as I slid onto the first empty barstool. The bar wasn’t too crowded, but the dance floor was alive, and it felt great to soak in the energy after those awful messages.

“Another bad date?” she asked, handing me my favorite drink.

“Oh, it was so bad, Danielle! I just don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“I don’t think it’s you. Sometimes men just suck, and dating app guys are a whole different level of awful,” she chuckled.

“I’m starting to think it might be time to give up.”

She sighed. “You always say that. But remember what I tell you: you’re more likely to find the right one when you’re not stuck playing 40 questions over a screen.”

She patted my hand for reassurance, and I felt a little lighter.

“Don’t beat yourself up—we’ve all been there. Just enjoy your drink.”

I nodded, acknowledging she was right.

“Okay, but no more than three drinks tonight. I don’t want you getting in trouble again for giving away too many free ones.”

We both laughed as I took a sip while she attended to the next guest.

About an hour later, I was on my third drink, and let me tell you, I was feeling it. “Slightly tipsy” was the best way to describe it, and I was really vibing with the music pouring from the speakers. However, I wasn’t much of a dancer. Sitting at the bar, swaying back and forth in my little bubble, felt just right. I could have kept it up all night, but then I heard an uproar from the dance floor.

Curious, I turned to see what all the commotion was about. Right in the center of the crowd was a group of guys dancing like nobody was watching, and they were good. But the one drawing everyone’s attention wasn’t the loudest or most flamboyant; instead, it was the guy making the subtlest moves. His presence alone was magnetic, giving him an air of mystery that was incredibly alluring.

I found myself standing up, inching closer to get a better view. I didn’t want to get too close—just close enough to appreciate his every move. But maybe that was the mistake, because as soon as I got within range, I was completely captivated. He wore all black: a fitted tank top, loose black pants, and sturdy boots. His shaggy hair was a striking lilac or lavender color, cascading over his forehead. It felt wrong, but the thought of getting his attention flickered in my mind. The only problem? I was supposed to be enjoying myself, not fantasizing about some guy.

“Y/N!” Danielle’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see her waving me over. That was my cue: stay away from him. After all, it was clear why there were at least ninety girls surrounding him—or so it seemed.

What I didn’t realize was that her shout had caught his attention too, because when I looked back just before walking away, we locked eyes.

“Oh god,” I mumbled to myself, quickly diverting my gaze as he flashed me a gentle smile. The only thing I could manage was a quick nod before I hurried back to the bar, eager to escape any further embarrassment.

“What were you doing over there?” Danielle asked as I settled back into my seat.

“Did you not see those guys? They were amazing!” I nearly pointed but caught a glimpse of him and his friends gathering at the other end of the bar.

“Those guys?” she asked, tilting her head in their direction. “Oh yeah, they’re here every Friday, or so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

For some reason, that realization made him feel completely out of reach. I shouldn’t have even considered approaching him, but the thought lingered. Now, with him just ten feet away, it was impossible not to steal glances as I tried to finish what was left of my drink.

“Need another?” I heard a male voice say.

I looked over to find a glass of Hennessy right beside my hand. My gaze lifted to meet the exact guy from the dance floor, and I was shocked. Why was he talking to me? Where were his friends? Regardless, I needed to play it cool; I didn’t want to come off as desperate.

“No, I’m good,” I replied shortly. “This is my third one, anyway.” I barely made eye contact, taking another sip.

“Is that why you were almost on the dance floor?” he joked.

“Maybe. But how would you know?” I finally turned my body toward him.

He took a small sip of his drink. “I saw you—almost as soon as you walked up. I was waiting for you to join in.”

“I’m sure the other ninety women were more than enough for you,” I retorted.

“Damn. Don’t do that,” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t do what? Point out the obvious?” I chuckled. That’s when I really started to feel the liquid courage kicking in. To be honest, I had a lot of animosity toward men right now, and he was my first target. This could either go really well or extremely badly.

“I’m not just another girl for you to toy with, okay? You think I didn’t see all the smirking and body rolling on that dance floor? Keep it over there.” My finger landed on his chest. “And don’t bring your fuckboy act over here.”

He smirked again, taking another sip before resting his hand over my finger that was still resting on his chest. God, why was he so attractive? I’d said enough, so why couldn’t I just get up and leave?

“Let me be clear…” His voice was low and husky, and I barely noticed he had leaned in closer, making my hand rest against his chest. “If I had any intentions with the other women on that floor, or if I were the fuckboy you think I am, then why am I over here with you?”

His eyes searched mine as if trying to find something beyond the asshole persona I was attempting to project.

“Touche,” I responded, quickly pulling my hand back. I finished off my drink, trying to distract myself from getting lost in his gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” he said with a smile, clearly pleased that I wasn’t trying to push him away any further. “And you?”

“Y/N,” I replied shyly, worried I might have ruined the rest of the conversation. Just then, another song played, and the crowd erupted again, making us both break our unannounced staring contest and look at the dance floor. The same guys he had arrived with were back out there, cutting loose. I noticed Jackson subtly mimicking their moves.

“You should join them!” I yelled over the music.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’d rather be dancing with someone else,” he said, slowly bringing his gaze back to me.

I rolled my eyes, smirking a little. “Could you be any more corny?”

“No,” he smirked, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer. We were chest to chest now, locked in each other's gaze. “But I’d like the chance to show you what I can do on the dance floor.”

I glanced back at Danielle, who had been watching the whole exchange. My expression should’ve been a dead giveaway for help, but instead, she winked at me. What the hell? She wasn’t helping at all.

“Come on,” he said, breaking our gaze and taking my hand. He led me to the dance floor. “I don’t expect anything more than for you to just feel the music.” He moonwalked to the center of the dance floor.

How could I possibly keep up with that? I barely had rhythm as it was, but that didn’t stop him from pulling me closer. The liquid courage needed to kick in any minute now because I had never been more nervous than I was at that moment.

He turned me around so that my back pressed against his chest, swaying slowly behind me, guiding my body to move in harmony with his. I felt as if I were in a trance, his hands exploring my waist in a way that was both respectful and undeniably sensual. His nose brushed against my hair, and I could feel my eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to his lead as I let the music envelop me. I placed my hands over his, turning my head slightly to bring his face closer to mine, anticipating the moment our lips might meet. But just then, the tempo of the music shifted, shattering the spell we were under. I smiled as we both paused, realizing that our moment had come to an end.

I turned to face him, and I noticed his friends slowly approaching from behind.

“Alright! We see you!” one of them called out.

“Get lost,” he replied, feigning annoyance, which made them all chuckle.

“Sorry, man! We were just about to grab another drink. You coming?”

He glanced back at me. “Yeah, actually. I’ll be right there.” They nodded and headed off, and he turned back to me.

“You know you don’t have to stick around. I wasn’t exactly nice to you a few minutes ago.”

He shrugged. “I can get drinks with them anytime.” He took my hand again and led me back to my original spot at the bar to order another drink. As we waited, he turned to look at me.

“But what was with all that attitude? Was it really just because of how you viewed me?”

I shook my head. “No... just... bad dates.”

He nodded slowly, as if he understood more than I realized.

“Men ain’t shit,” he started, his tone serious. “And I mean that. I don’t know what you’ve been through, and it’s really none of my business, but can I offer you some advice?”

“Sure,” I replied, still swaying to what we could hear of the music.

“Don’t assume every guy you meet is going to be like the last. I know that’s tough, but calling me a fuck boy was a bit much.” He whined playfully, laughter escaping him. “Though, I have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry... I really shouldn’t have said that—” Just then, my favorite song blared through the speakers. Tinashe’s “Nasty” filled the air, and the energy shifted.

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” I shouted, letting go and fully immersing myself in the music. Whatever liquid courage I had left finally surfaced, and I danced like I’d never danced before. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even notice Danielle bringing him another drink; he simply stood there, a huge smirk on his face, watching me.

“Is somebody gonna match my freak...” I began to sing loudly, draping my arms over his neck and leaning in close, letting my hands glide slowly over his chest.

He watched intently as I continued belting out the lyrics. The way he sipped his Hennessy while keeping his gaze fixed on me made my stomach flip. Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure, still singing and letting my hands roam lower, tracing over his abdomen, which made his breath catch.

“Easy...” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but smirk. I had no idea what was happening, but I was enjoying every moment.

I leaned back into his space, my arm wrapped around his neck as the chorus looped again, the constant refrain of “I’ve been a nasty girl” echoing in my ears. I sang every word, body rolling against him while his free hand trailed down my side and rested at my waist. With his other hand, he finished his drink and set the glass down, then placed his palm at the small of my back.

We were mere inches apart; I could feel his breath against my lips, and it made me freeze as the music began to fade into the background. At that moment, I was intoxicated by his scent, and there was no way I could back down now. I’d been in his face for nearly three minutes, singing about being a nasty girl—what else could I expect?

“You singing all of that makes me want to do a lot more than just dance with you...” he whispered. “But that would be disrespectful on our first meeting.”

Good god. At this point, he could have done anything to me; a man who shows respect is the sexiest thing a girl could ask for.

“Then what can you do that wouldn’t be ‘disrespectful’?”

I knew I was asking for it, but I couldn’t help myself. At this rate, I wanted him to make a move.

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against mine as our faces inched closer together. One hand cupped my face, while the other rested on my hip. I felt his body draw nearer, moving slightly as the music began to swell again, creating a bubble around just the two of us. I slowly closed my eyes, fully aware of what was about to happen. The build-up was intoxicating. I could have closed the distance myself, but something urged me to savor the moment. He began to turn my body until my back was against a wall, his hands landing on either side of me, brushing his lips against mine. When I opened my eyes, I saw him glancing between my eyes and my mouth, so close I could nearly taste him.

My hands moved to cup his neck as we tilted our heads, our lips nearly meeting once more. He was teasing me mercilessly, and damn, was he good at it.

“May I?” he asked, brushing his nose against mine again. There he went again with that respect.

“Please,” I nearly begged, and he slowly closed the gap between us, finally kissing me after what felt like an eternity of anticipation.

Our lips moved in perfect harmony, just like how we danced. His hands slid from the bar back around my waist, while mine fumbled to find their place. I felt most at ease tangling one hand in his hair while the other rested at his side. The kiss deepened as our tongues battled for dominance, making me want to nibble at his bottom lip to tease him even more. But just like that, it was over. He pulled away, leaving me craving more.

We were both breathless, but it was more than worth it. I even heard Danielle cheering quietly behind me, which made us glance at her and shake our heads in amusement.

“I’m sorry. If I’d kept going—”

I raised a finger to his lips. “It’s fine,” I smiled. “There’s always next time.”

He nodded. “I hope it made your night a little better.”

His smile was enchanting, and I could tell he genuinely meant it, which made me feel incredible.

“Mission accomplished.” I gave him a quick peck. “Now, stay in touch.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” he frowned.

“No!” I laughed. “Danielle’s my ride home since I’ve had a couple of drinks.”

“Smart. I like it,” he teased, locking his gaze with mine again. “Care to dance once more before the night ends?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get back to your boys?” I asked, noticing them still on the dance floor.

“Look, those are my best friends. I can dance, drink, and whatever else with them anytime,” he assured me. “They’ll understand if I keep dancing with you. And while this may be our last dance tonight, I hope to see you again, outside of this bar.”

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. Who would have thought one bad night would turn into something so lucky?

“Deal,” was all I could think to say before he pulled me back out to the dance floor, where we danced until the sun rose.

[writeforfandoms]

Shatter Me 10

Find the series masterlist

Finally, more of Ahsoka! I kind of adore her. Remember, Mech has been through some heavy shit, and she hasn't processed a lot of it. Also, this is a gentle reminder that although she calls Peli sister, it is not necessarily a biological relation. I actually picture Mech as not being a blood sibling.

Warnings: Grief, mention of past harm, real talk about trauma (in no detail), brief crying jag, Grogu being cute.

Word count: 2.6k

The sky was slowly darkening as you and Mando waited for the child and Ahsoka to finish speaking. You sat on a tree stump, watching Ahsoka's expressions change as they talked. 

At least. It looked like they were communicating, somehow. Even though you never saw Ahsoka's lips move. But the child was clearly reacting to her, ears moving, hands waving around sometimes. 

And Mando was every inch the worried parent, stalking back and forth across a small stretch of ground, helmet constantly focused on the two and their little circle of light. He took a few steps, paused, and then turned and went back, repeating the cycle. But the set of his shoulders wasn't tense, wasn't angry. 

That relaxed you more than it should have. 

"My dad taught me how to fix speeders." 

Mando stopped and looked over at you, and you went warm with embarrassment. But you forged on. 

"Both of us, you know. He was good. Taught us mechanic's power words, too." You smiled, digging the toe of your boot into the dirt and dragging it around. "We just had to promise not to use them around our mom. I remember the one time Peli forgot that." You grinned, unable to hold back a little laugh at the memory. "Peli complained for a week that everything tasted like sonic cleaner." 

There was a soft laugh from under the helmet, and Mando drifted a step closer to you. "So you followed your father's footsteps."

"I was good at it. I mean, I am good at it." You shrugged. "I can do numbers alright when I need to, but not enough to run a business or anything. Peli got that hanger and I helped her for a while, until…" you trailed off, lifting your gaze to Ahsoka. She smiled gently at something, dipping her head just a little. "Well, until things changed, I suppose." You hopped off the tree stump, ashamed of your unasked for outburst now, and shook out your hands. "I'm sorry, that was–" 

"Don't." The word was quiet but forceful, and you froze. "Don't apologize. Not for that." 

You relaxed again, smiling a little down at your feet. He was kinder than you could have ever guessed. Gruff, yes, but kind. 

Both of you snapped to attention as Ahsoka stood, picking up the light and the child both before walking over towards you. Mando moved first, walking towards them. He was tense again, but more worried than anything. Ahsoka set the child down and then sat herself. You snuck over, taking a seat a little out of the way, listening to the child make an odd noise, almost like a rumble. 

"Is he speaking?" Mando asked. "Do you… understand him?" 

"In a way. Grogu and I can feel each others' thoughts." 

Grogu? You blinked, lips parting in surprise. 

"Grogu?" Mando asked, confused even through the modulator. 

The child immediately looked up at him, blinking huge eyes, ears wiggling just a little. 

"Yes," Ahsoka confirmed, calm and collected. As if this were normal for her. "That's his name." 

Mando shifted his weight, leaning ever so slightly closer to the child. "Grogu."

Again, the child immediately looked up at him with a wordless noise of acknowledgement. 

"He was raised at the Jedi temple at Coruscant," Ahsoka said, looking down at her lantern. "Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the temple." Ahsoka looked up as Mando sat, focused entirely on Ahsoka. 

Not that you were any better. Your heart was aching for the child, for Grogu. 

"Then his memory becomes… dark. He seemed lost. Alone." Ahsoka paused, letting that sink in. "I've only known one other being like this. A wise Jedi Master named Yoda." Grogu chirped and grunted at her, and Ahsoka smiled. The serenity and joy in that smile struck you, made you swallow hard. Then she turned her gaze to Mando again. "Can he still wield the Force?" 

"You mean his powers?" 

"The Force is what gives him his powers," Ahsoka explained patiently. "It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training. And discipline." 

Training the kid–Grogu–had received at the Jedi Temple. You wondered how much of it he remembered. How much he still knew. 

"I've seen him do things I can't explain," Mando told her, a little halting. But there was no fear in his voice. "My task was to bring him to a Jedi."

Ahsoka looked down, away from him. "The Jedi Order fell a long time ago."

"So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help." 

There was a long silence, and Ahsoka sighed. Grogu hummed and murmured at her, eyes closed. 

"Let him sleep," Ahsoka decided finally. "I'll test him in the morning." 

Mando nodded and stood, picking up Grogu carefully. Then he paused and looked at you. 

"I'll be right there," you told him, nodding once. "Not tired yet." Your smile was weak but you tried. That had to count for something. 

Mando nodded and strode away to find a good place to hunker down for the night, pulse rifle in one hand and Grogu cradled in the other. 

"How long have you been traveling with them?" Ahsoka asked you gently. 

You turned back to her to find her already watching you. "Oh, not that long," you murmured, looking down at your fingers, twisting around each other in your lap. 

She nodded once and looked at the lantern again, letting the quiet settle over the two of you. But it wasn't… uncomfortable. Actually, it felt restful, almost relaxing. You closed your eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath. 

"Can I… ask you something?" You glanced shyly at Ahsoka, chewing on your lips. 

"You can." She smiled at you, soft and encouraging. 

"How are you so… calm? About all of this." You waved a vague hand in the direction of Mando and Grogu. 

Her smile widened. "Practice," she answered easily. "Meditation." 

You blinked at her, head tilting a little to one side. "Really?"

She nodded. "I find that meditation helps to calm and center my mind," she agreed, shifting her weight and turning slightly to face you. "It can be a useful tool." 

You nodded slowly, mulling over her words. "Is it hard?"

A slow shift of her shoulders that might have been a shrug. "It can be. Some find it more difficult than others." She met your gaze, holding you still and quiet for several moments. "Would you like to learn?"

You frowned and shrugged. "I don't know." You looked away for a moment, chewing the corner of your lips, and then forced yourself to look back at her. "I just envy your calm. I wish I was… more like that." 

She breathed slowly, letting your words sink in. It wasn't as hard as you had feared, admitting that. Something about her manner just put you at ease, despite how vicious she could clearly be, when the occasion called for it. "It is not an easy path," she warned you. "The kind of calm you're looking for requires accepting what has already happened." Far too knowing eyes held yours. 

You blinked, tears welling up, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh." 

She turned the rest of the way towards you, still relaxed and open. "Give yourself time," she murmured. "Be gentle with yourself. You're still recovering." 

"Are you… reading my mind?" You blinked at her again, swallowing hard against the lump attempting to lodge itself in your throat. 

"No." She smiled at you, moving one hand from under her poncho to reach out, palm up. An offering. One you took slowly, placing your hand in hers. "I wouldn't do that without permission, not when I can help it. But I've met many people in this galaxy. There is a certain… look. Feel. To people who have survived horrific things." 

You closed your eyes, feeling the first tear escape to slide hot down your cheek. "I didn't… there are so many that have had worse," you whispered, fighting to keep your voice even. "I'm here, I got away. I have a job." 

"The suffering of others does not negate your own," Ahsoka said softly, fingers strong around your hand. "You are allowed to grieve for yourself." 

You gasped in a breath and hunched over yourself, free hand over your mouth to muffle yourself, eyes tightly shut. Ahsoka held tight to your hand and didn't let go the entire time you sat there, curled around your aching heart. 

Finally, your breathing slowed and you straightened. You wiped your face with the hem of your top, beyond caring. "I'm sorry," you started, looking at her. 

But Ahsoka shook her head, smile faint but kind, old pain in her eyes. "There is no need to apologize," she assured you. "You needed that." 

A croaky laugh surprised you, and you nodded your agreement. "Guess I did." You squeezed her hand. "Thank you." 

She merely inclined her head, graceful and humble. "You should get some sleep," she advised. 

You nodded and let go of her hand with one final squeeze. "Sleep well." 

It wasn't hard to find Mando and the kid. Grogu was snoring, quiet but still audible. You sat down a few feet from them, breathing out a long slow sigh. 

"Are… you okay?" 

The question startled you, and you blinked at Mando. It was difficult to see, the light from the moon diffusing and growing weak through the smog in the air. You could just see the gleam of his helmet. 

"Yes," you said after a moment. "I mean, I will be. We… talked. It's okay, she didn't do anything. She just… told me something I needed to hear." You wiped at your face again, trying to get rid of any lingering tear tracks. 

Mando nodded once slowly and relaxed again, tipping his head down towards his chest. "Get some sleep," he muttered, gruff but not unkind. 

"You, too." You whispered the words carefully. But he didn't move, didn't acknowledge you. That was fine. You closed your eyes and relaxed as much as you could, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Your sleep that night was mercifully dreamless. 

You woke to giggling and gentle hands on your cheeks. You blinked a couple times, weak morning sunlight streaming through the dead trees and smog. 

The child–Grogu–was on your lap, both hands against your cheeks, squishing them slightly as he peered up at you. 

"Good morning, little one," you whispered, lifting one hand to his back. "Did you sleep well?"

He burbled at you, patting your cheeks twice. 

"Hmm, sounds like a good night," you agreed, despite having no clue what he had said. "Are you hungry, Grogu?"

He chirped excitedly, ears wiggling, and you smiled, despite his fingers still smooshing your cheeks. 

"Okay," you agreed. "Lemme get you some food." 

Finally looking past Grogu as you fished a packet of jerky out of your pocket, you noted Mando still looked asleep. At least, he hadn't moved, helmet still tipped down, arms still crossed over his chest. 

He looked almost peaceful. 

Grogu sat down with his back against your front, eating his breakfast with enthusiasm. You chuckled softly, stroking one long ear gently. 

"Kid?" Mando sat up straight and then relaxed almost immediately. 

"He's fine," you murmured. "Just hungry."

Mando nodded, settling back against the log behind him. 

Ahsoka walked over to the two of you, as calm as the day before. She smiled slightly at you and then looked at Grogu. "It's time." 

The group of you stood, Mando carrying Grogu, and walked a ways away. The air grew a little clearer, and you could hear moving water somewhere in the distance. 

You had to imagine this planet had once been beautiful. 

Ahsoka stopped, turning to look at Mando and Grogu. "Let's see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind." 

You moved away, content to watch. You didn't need to be involved in this. You didn't have a right to be involved in this, not really. The only reason you were still here was because Mando didn't have time to escort you back to the ship.

The test started small, although you felt your eyes go wide watching Ahsoka float a rock to Grogu. He seemed stubborn, though. Unwilling to do the same when prompted. And then unwilling to take the stone from Ahsoka. Or Mando. 

Then Mando pulled out the shiny little bauble. From the ship. You'd seen Grogu with it before, knew it was a favored toy, or something. 

But you were still surprised when the ball flew from Mando's fingers to Grogu's. 

"Good job! Good job, kid. Did you see that? I knew you could do it." Mando walked over to crouch in front of the kid, every inch a proud parent. 

Ahsoka looked less pleased. "He's formed a strong attachment to you," she observed, standing still where she was. Soft coos reached your ears, and you couldn't help but smile. "I cannot train him." 

"What?" Mando stood and turned to look at Ahsoka. "Why not? You've seen what he can do!"

"His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His angers." 

"All the more reason to train him," Mando argued. 

"No." There was a waver to Ahsoka's voice for the first time, and she stepped closer to Mando. "I've seen what those feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us." Ahsoka paused there, staring down Mando for a few moments before looking to Grogu. "I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade." She turned and started to walk away. "I have delayed too long. I must get back to the village." 

"The Magistrate sent me to kill you," Mando said, loud enough for her to hear clearly. The child whined, and you couldn't resist going over to scoop him up into your arms. You stroked your fingers down the length of one long ear, though the child didn't look away from Mando. "I didn't agree to anything," Mando continued as Ahsoka turned back to look at him. "And I'll help you with your problem. If you see to it that Grogu is properly trained." 

Grogu grunted at both of them, looking between them. You swallowed, nerves settling in your gut as you held the center of attention. 

Fortunately, the standoff didn't last long. Ahsoka walked back to Mando and motioned for him to walk with her. 

You ended up behind the two, honestly not paying attention to what they were saying. 

"Well, kiddo," you murmured. "Guess you're not just good looks, huh?"

He laughed, high and sweet, and you felt yourself relax at the sound. You smiled. 

The two up ahead stopped, and you reached them in time to hear the end of a conversation. 

"...helped build the Imperial starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process." 

"Looks like she's still in business," Mando observed, leaning against one of the dead trees. 

Ahsoka nodded and turned back to look at him, and you. "When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?" 

You nodded, lowering your gaze. You would never forget the sight of them for as long as you lived. 

"I saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate," Mando confirmed. 

"We must find a way to free them," Ahsoka mused.

You smiled down at the top of the kid's head. Good. That was good. You had been planning to ask Mando again before he left, but this was even better. 

"A Mandalorian and a Jedi? They'll never see it coming." Mando straightened, rising to his full and impressive height. 

But you didn't feel frightened. Or intimidated, even. Just… safe.

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 9 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is on ao3, too!

Summary: Your time at university has come to an end, and you and Dutch talk about the future.

Word count: 4,390

Content warnings: None

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Finally. Exams were over, and you were finished with university.  

That feeling you had upon leaving your final exam was akin to that of an out-of-body experience. You'd floated more than walked out of the hall until you reached the pub, and couldn't shake the looming feeling that you shouldn't be having fun, you should be at home studying. Everything you’d worked for throughout school, and specifically during the last three years, had all led up to this moment.  

Most of your group of friends had returned home after you were all partied out (poor Abigail being unable to drink but being a great sport nonetheless) to wait for the results to come through.  

You’d squealed when you saw yours, a top mark that was so overwhelming you'd immediately burst into tears. After you’d informed your family, you checked your phone to see two things: your group chat with thirty unread messages and a single one from Dutch, asking how you’d done.  

Unable to formulate coherent sentences, you opted for a screenshot.  

By some miracle, all your friends had passed too, even John. Abigail had done especially well, and you couldn’t have been prouder of her. You were beaming down at your phone, happy not only for yourself but for your friends too, when Dutch responded.   

Congratulations my girl. I knew you could do it. Can’t wait to celebrate with you ;)  

As always, Dutch’s timing was impeccable, a message from John coming through saying that he was hosting celebratory drinks at his house the following weekend. There were no prizes for guessing who put that idea in his head. Not that you weren't excited about the prospect; you truly were on cloud nine.  

-

John had been the one to pick you up, and you’d unfortunately been running late after having an interview for a graduate job the same day you were meant to travel down.   

There were more people than you’d expected at the Van der Linde residence aside from your group of friends when you arrived, some of Javier’s family, Abigail’s parents, and of course Tilly.   

“I can’t believe your parents are meeting Dutch,” you mused to Abigail who’d joined John for the ride and was walking you through the house and to the garden, where you could already see the small group chatting with drinks in hand.   

“I know,” she widened her eyes at you, “we’ve had to rush through a good number of things thanks to this little one.”  

Abigail gestured at her tummy, which was now impossible to hide in her clothes. She’d carried well, and the bump had been tiny for a great deal of her pregnancy, which was now a month and a half away from completion. She was having a hard time finding a dress for graduation and was unfortunately going to have to get one on the week of the event thanks to her ever-changing body. But still, she seemed to be glowing and the thought of her as a mother suited her greatly.

You paused in the kitchen to get a drink, John carrying on ahead while Abigail stayed with you.  

“How are you feeling?” you asked, pouring her a cup of juice. “Still going okay?”  

“Yeah, actually. I’ve been lucky. Thought that knowing my luck I’d be sick for the entire time and aching for nine full months. But touch wood,” she grazed her fingertips over the cabinet door, “it stays that way for a while longer. Can’t imagine I’ll be very comfortable during the last month either way.”  

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do,” you said ernestly. “At least it sounds like baby will be less trouble than John.”  

“I hope so,” she chuckled. “I couldn’t bear the thought of minding two of them.”  

You snorted a laugh. “Yeah, rather you than me. Is John still staying at your house for the birth?”  

“He is,” she confirmed. While the two would be spending most of the time at the Van der Linde residence, Abigail wanted her parents to be there for the birth and the two had planned to make the journey to John’s after a couple of weeks. You’d been briefly concerned whether she’d be okay travelling so soon, but her place wasn’t too far away that it would be unmanageable, at least. “Surprised he even wants to be there for the birth.”  

“I can’t imagine he’ll be much use,” you took a sip of your drink, “but it’s good that he’s shown willing.”  

“Agree.”   

You placed a hand on her arm. Despite her façade, you knew deep down she must be scared. This was a big deal, bigger than anything any of you had ever dealt with. “You’re gonna do great.”  

Abigail pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes at the floor. “Don’t make me cry,” she half-laughed, “I’m too hormonal for you to get all soft on me.”  

“Alright,” you held up your hands with a grin. “Shall we head out?”  

“Yeah, let's do that.”  

The pair of you stepped out into the garden, Karen jumping to her feet to skip over and throw her arms around you. “I can finally spend time with you again!” She pulled away, her hands holding your upper arms. “You have finally been having time to yourself, right?”  

“I have,” you nodded fondly. “I plan to do so for at least a couple of months.”  

“Here’s the genius amongst us,” Javier proclaimed, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Congrats,” he knocked his drink against yours once you'd walked over, “I’d say you’ve definitely earnt it.”  

“Thanks Javi. You did great too.”  

Javier was one of those irritating people who could put in minimal effort, yet still come out with a decent performance. It was truly aggravating.  

You sat beside him, opposite Dutch, who was smiling proudly at you. Lest you blush like a teenager, you took your gaze away from him.  

Thankfully, he was chatting with Abigail’s dad about something or other while you and your friends caught up. Of course, Abigail and John were postponing their job hunt, something Dutch had been quite insistent on; after coming around to the idea of them having the child, he’d been very hands-on and was more than willing to support the pair while they got to grips with parenthood.  

Sean and Karen had made travel plans, the two of them deciding on doing some interrailing around Europe together. You’d poked fun at Karen, asking how she was going to survive months on end sharing an enclosed space with Sean. For all that she hid her affection towards him, she was incredibly fond of him and the two were truthfully a good match; seemingly comfortable in their created chaotic environment.  

Javier had been interviewing like you had, planning on going into software too since it allowed him to work from home – he had no interest in hauling himself to an office every day.  

The music and drinks had been flowing for a few hours when Abigail and Javier’s parents left, Arthur and Charles arriving soon after and updating everyone on how married life had been treating them. They’d recently bought a beat-up house with a decent amount of land and most of their time was spent renovating it while deciding what to do with the space. They hadn’t yet come to an agreement, but they were set on it having something to do with animals and or nature conservation. Once it was finished, Arthur had said you all had an open invitation to come and see it.  

All the talk of the future was wonderful, seeing your friends so happy and bright-eyed as they prepared to take on the world. You couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy, having such an uncertain aspect of your future that none of them knew a thing about.  

You quietly escaped the chatty group, opting to dawdle in the kitchen for a moment while you took your time pouring out another drink.  

“I believe a proper congratulations is in order.”  

That lovely deep voice was carried in by none other than Dutch, who’d taken your brief departure as a chance to have some alone time. You smiled at him bittersweetly, and his face fell a little.  

“What’s wrong?” he stepped closer, not knowing what to do with his hand that he wanted to wrap around you, instead flexing it at his side.

With a sip of your drink, you shrugged. “I think I’m just a little overwhelmed.”  

Dutch tilted his head, and you looked at the ground, the urge to cry coming on strong for a reason unbeknownst to you. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Let’s go to the study for a moment.”  

You nodded, and he led you to his office, which you hadn’t seen for some time.  

Once inside, he perched himself against the desk and gingerly pulled you into his chest. You lay your head there as he rubbed your back soothingly, the scent and feel of him causing your worries to begin to dissipate.   

“I don’t even know why I’m getting emotional,” you mumbled into him, then took your head from his chest to instead look at him directly, his hands moving to rest on your hips.  

“Now darlin’,” he soothed, looking at you with all the adoration in the world, “it’s an emotional time. This is all different, it’s a whole new beginning.”  

“I know, but...”  

His eyes were warm, projecting all the comfort he could muster onto you by gaze alone. “But what?”  

“Everyone’s out there,” you gestured away from yourself, “talking about their futures. I’ve got nothing to say. It’s all so uncertain.” It felt silly to get up in your feelings, considering your great grades and even greater prospects, but it wasn't something you could help.

“Trust you to be instantly thinking about the next thing,” he shook his head as he appraised you, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to dry your tears. “You even had your interview today, right? How did that go?”  

“Good, I think. The office isn’t far, but I’d only have to go in once a fortnight. Might be a good fit if I get it, but I have others lined up if not.”  

“Exactly. You have an incredible future. With your career,” he took your hands in his, “with me...”  

“Do I?”  

“Yes,” he assured, “we said we’d wait to talk about it once all this is over, that doesn’t mean I haven’t already been thinking about some things.”  

“Like what?” you asked quietly, hoping he could paint a pretty picture to soothe your worried heart.  

Dutch brushed a hand over your hair, a fond smirk on his face. “About how we’re gonna settle the score so we don’t have to hide this. If that’s still what you want?”  

“Yeah. Yes. I’m just apprehensive about how we’ll get to that point.”  

“Understandable,” he placed a hand on his chest genuinely, “as am I. But we’ll plan it together, do it together. Okay? We’ll have each other, throughout and at the end of it all.”  

You nodded, a little unconvinced. It suddenly seemed much less manageable now that you'd reached the proverbial bridge and were preparing to cross. “I don’t want to lose anyone.”  

“We will do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen. Like I said, I’ve been thinking.”  

“Go on?”  

“It’d be wise to tackle the most difficult one first. Once John’s out the way, the rest won’t seem so bad.”  

That was true. You nodded.  

“We need to let John and Abigail settle first. Once they have, we’ll take them out and tell them. Be good to have Abigail there for moral support, her presence will hopefully keep John calm, too.” He brought your hands up to kiss them. “By Christmas, it’ll be out there, and we can deal with it however we see fit.”  

“You really think John’ll be okay with it?”  

Dutch shrugged. “I won’t lie to you; I don’t think he will be. Eventually, he’ll come around. He has to.”  

“Does he?”  

“Darlin’, I know my son. You leave the planning to me, focus on that job of yours. It’ll all work out. I promise.”  

You brought your intertwined hands towards you, resting your chin on his knuckles, feeling guilty that Dutch would take the extra weight on his shoulders in order to lessen what was on yours. “Okay, I will.”  

“And in the meantime,” he broke your hands apart and tugged on your hips to bring you between his legs. “I say you and I get away for a week at least, go somewhere hot where we can walk along the beach and drink cocktails together.”  

A smile grew on your face, a holiday abroad with Dutch sounded like the perfect way to pass the time until then. “We should get a place with another hot tub.”  

“Now that,” Dutch edged his face towards yours, “is a fantastic idea.”

He kissed you, and your troubles began to melt away. His lips were so soft, so warm, and he smelled so good. He was Dutch. Your Dutch. The man always had a plan, was always two steps ahead of you and knew how to fix problems before they’d even arose.  

“My sweet girl. We’ll figure it out,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, “I’ll do everything I can to make this work. You just have to trust me.”  

“Okay. I trust you.” You brought your hands to his jaw, keeping his face on yours as the two of you deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around the small of your back and pulling you even further in.  

The faint thrumming of alcohol underneath your skin made itself known, and you shifted in your spot as you placed your hands on the base of Dutch’s neck, the two of you lost in the exchange as it solidified the promise of a future, whatever that was going to look like.  

“What the fuck?”  

You gasped as you pulled your lips from Dutch’s, his hands stilling at your waist at the sound of the all too familiar voice. Turning, you were met with John’s horrified expression as he stood in the doorway.  

“Son -” Dutch began, being cut off as John slammed the door open the rest of the way, making you jolt and pacing towards the two of you.  

You brushed Dutch’s hands away that were still on your hips, for some unknown reason, and turned fully, your heart rising up into your mouth and you felt as though you’d puke it out before he reached you.  

His gaze was fixed just behind you, on Dutch, and you stepped forward to get his attention. “John, John - it isn’t what it looks like.”  

Menacingly he stopped, his gaze shifting to you. “What the fuck is this,” he gritted.  

“I - I -” you stuttered, not a single excuse to explain any of it.   

“You,” he pointed at his father, “you’re a fucking pervert. And you,” he turned his gaze to you, “I didn’t have you down for a whore, but here we are.”  

“Johnathon,” Dutch snapped, standing, and you felt the heat radiating off both of them in waves.  

“What?!” John yelled. “You gonna make this my fault, somehow? Turn it around on me? Like you always do?!”  

“No, son – but you will not speak to her that way,” he snarled, and you looked back at him, willing him not to get riled up.  

Jogging footsteps preluded Arthur making his way through the door. “What the hell is all this yellin’ for?”  

John threw him a hateful look, and Arthur frowned, looking between you and Dutch. His expression then became one of anger mixed with disappointment as his eyes settled on Dutch. “Tell me you haven’t.”  

“Arthur, son, it is not how it seems -”  

“I goddamn knew I shouldn’t have believed you -”  

“Please, Arthur,” you interjected, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him from advancing further, “it really isn’t what it looks like.”  

“No?” John scoffed. “How about you enlighten us?”  

Your voice got stuck in your throat, and you cleared it a couple of times.  

“I’m waiting,” he lamented, and you noticed there was now an audience of Abigail and Karen at the door. “Please explain what earthly reason you have for putting your tongue in my father’s mouth. What’s the play here?” he waved his arms between the two of you angrily, “were you just gonna fuck on the desk if I hadn’t of come in?”  

You put a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to hyperventilate; your worst fear was coming true, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was as though you were a third party, simply observing the situation as it played out with no way to intervene.

Realisation set in Arthur’s face first, and he muttered his brother’s name while glancing between you and Dutch.  

“No,” John scoffed, almost laughing, “ain’t no way. Don’t you dare,” he pointed a finger towards the two of you. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me that’s true.”  

You heard Dutch move from the desk behind you, and he walked past you with his hands out. “John. I need you to calm down.”  

“Calm down?! Calm down?!” John glared at Dutch, a face full of venomous anger, “you’ve been fucking my best friend and you want me to calm down?!”  

“John,” you choked, tears brimming at your eyes once again, and the look he gave you was enough to tell you that you were his best friend no more.   

“You should go upstairs,” Arthur said to you gently, keeping his gaze fixed on Dutch.  

“No, Arthur, I -”  

“Abigail, take up her upstairs.”  

“No -”  

“It’s alright,” Dutch tipped his chin at you, that same promise you’d seen earlier in his eyes still held there, “you go. It’s alright.”  

You shook your head, and he nodded his in response.   

“Abigail,” he beckoned her in, and she took slow steps in with poorly-concealed shock plastered over her face as though she didn’t even want to step into the tense atmosphere of the room. “Will you and Karen take her upstairs?”  

“Sure,” she said uncertainly, reaching an unsteady hand out to tug at your forearm.   

“Dutch -” you began.  

“Just go,” he stepped towards you, Arthur bristling as he did and causing him to stop in his tracks.  

Unable to think of any other option you hand, you shook your head and allowed Abigail to lead you out, she and Karen proceeding to walk you up the stairs in silence until you reached the spare room, where you sat on the end of the bed and they shut the door after you were all inside.  

There was nothing else to do except drop your head into your hands and sob.  

The girls approached, Abigail still uncertain but she sat beside you, Karen kneeling in front of you with a hand on your knee.  

They allowed you to cry, as you’d allowed them to do many times about their respective partners. Over the years, you’d been the one they’d go to when they had to let it all out, and over a hot drink, you’d chatted and taken their mind off it or talk it out until there were no more words or tears left.  

It appeared that you were crying your share of tears all in one sitting.  

“Sweetie,” Karen began tentatively once your sobs had turned to sniffles, “what on earth is going on?”  

You blinked up to see her concerned face swimming thanks to the wetness of your eyes, and Abigail stood to find tissues which she handed to you when she sat back down. After dabbing at your under eyes, you took a steadying breath.  

“John walked in on me kissing Dutch,” you said, your voice hoarse. “It isn’t exactly the first time we’ve done it.”  

“Did you really sleep with him?” Karen asked, and even in her serious tone, you could pick out a glint of admiration.  

You nodded.  

“Holy shit. How long has this been going on?” she asked hesitantly, and you only just met her gaze.  

“Since Easter...”  

“Well that’s not so -”  

“Of first year.”  

“Oh, you idiot.”  

At least you could rely on her to be honest. “I know. It’s terrible. I’m terrible.”  

Nobody argued against that, not that you'd expected them to. “I -” Abigail shifted beside you, “why didn’t you tell us?”  

“How could I? It all just happened... and then continued to happen,” you looked down at your hands, wringing them between each other. “We were gonna tell him, tell everyone,” you gave them both a desperate look, “just after the baby. We didn’t want all this stress...”  

“Wait,” Karen squeezed your thigh, “tell everyone what, exactly?”  

“About us,” you shrugged.  

“It’s... more than just a fling?” ��

With a solemn nod, you cleared your throat. “It’s... much more.”  

“Oh Jesus,” Abigail rubbed disparagingly at her brow, “how could you let this happen?”  

“You’ve seen the man, right?” Karen asked.  

“Karen.”  

“What?” she laughed. “I can hardly blame ya for it.”  

“Sure,” Abigail snipped. “But what about John?”  

You were saved from answering that by a knock at the door, and Arthur’s voice behind it.  “It’s just me. Ya’ll mind if I come in?”  

Karen looked to you and you nodded. “Sure, come on in.”  

He did so, visibly radiating frustration but also trying to keep himself calm while in your company. “Ladies, would you give us a minute?”  

Karen checked in with you again, she and Abigail standing at your go-ahead. Once they'd left, Arthur took Karen’s place and kneeled in front of you. Your gaze remained firmly on the floor.  

“I’m gonna need you to look at me.”  

Your brow creased, but you did as he asked. You weren’t sure whether you should’ve been thankful for the pity on his face.  

“Arthur, I’m so sorry -”  

“Ain’t me you should be apologising to,” he began, “but I understand this ain’t entirely your fault. Dutch is... well I don’t like to be the one to tell you, but he’s done this before.”  

“I already know about Molly,” you said immediately, and Arthur’s face fell in surprise.  

“You do?”  

“Dutch told me.”  

“Oh,” he hummed. “Well, it don’t matter either way. Dutch shouldn’t have done what he did -”  

“Arthur,” you sighed his name. “Please listen to me. He hasn’t done anything. This was both of us.”  

“No, he has a responsibility -”  

“And he kept it! I came onto him. He refused! At least at the start.”  

Arthur shook his head. “That don’t mean much, he’s got a way about him -”  

“Christ, Arthur,” you huffed. “I’m an adult. In spite of that, I know how it looks, you don’t have to tell me. But it’s not the way it seems. It just isn’t like that. I -”  

“Don’t you dare say you love him,” Arthur’s face hardened.  

“I do. I’m sorry, but I do. Have done for a long time,” you said, full of regret. “It sounds crazy, I know that. But it’s the truth. We had a plan, a plan to tell John, and to -” you gestured vaguely, trailing off.  

“A plan to what?”  

You shrugged reluctantly. “Make it work.”  

“How? What kinda future do the two of you have?” he said pleadingly. “And is it worth it? Jeopardising your friendship with John, hell maybe even the others, so you can date him?”  

“I -” you sighed a defeated sigh.   

“Look, maybe it ain’t too late. But you can’t be serious about carrying this on, it... it ain’t right.”  

Arthur’s words stung almost as hard as the look on John’s face that would be imprinted on your mind for the foreseeable. Even if Arthur was wrong about the circumstances, he was right about one thing. There was only one way you could have a chance at salvaging your relationship with John.  

The way everyone had looked at you had you feeling insane. Like this was the worst thing in the world and only you couldn’t see it. It had never felt that way. It’d never felt wrong, or sick, even if you had been regretful and concerned about John at times. You and Dutch had always been right. He’d always been your sanctuary.  

But maybe, just maybe, Arthur was right. After all, was it true that everyone else was wrong? What was the likelihood that you weren’t being naïve and silly? You’d been in your own world with Dutch since the whole thing had begun, with no room or option for any outside opinions to make themselves known. Every disagreement the two of you had was worked out amongst yourselves, and not once had you had anyone in your ear to give you advice.  

And John. God, poor fucking John.  

You adored him, well and truly. He’d been your first proper friend at university, he’d driven you home for the breaks, introduced you to his flatmates who then became your closest friends, he’d gone out for food or drink when you needed to get away from the stress of university life. He wasn’t perfect, but who was? Certainly not you.  

Not once had you truly taken the time to think about what you were doing. Every time you came close, the thought was pushed to the back of your mind in the pursuit of self-indulgence. You’d erased his face far from your head while you kissed his father, fucked his father, all behind his back for two years.  

In truth, you weren’t convinced you even deserved him as a friend.  

Arthur was right. How could you and Dutch have a future? You’d believed it to be possible upon Dutch’s promise that John would come around, but how could you ever have believed that would happen? What a stupid dream that was. He’d never forgive you, rightfully so, yours and Dutch’s relationship would ultimately end, and you’d be left with nothing.  

For John, for once, you had to do the right thing. You had to make it up to him. You had to try, at least.  

“I want to go home.”   

Arthur nodded, standing, relieved to get you out of the picture for the time being. “I’ll drive ya to the station.”  

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Bad Ending 1: Catch And Release (And Catch Again)

It really shouldn't be a competition of which was worse -- being violently tortured by a psycho or being so, so lonely -- and yet Jonas still managed to pick the worst choice.

Yaaaaay, one of the first "Bad Endings" is here!! Since there's multiple different, fun ways Jonas's ransom could potentially end, I'll be branching out into many of the options! Some may be a one and done (endings where one of them dies) whereas others might span on for one or two sequel fics.

For this ending, Jonas's ransom was paid in full and on time, meaning he has been returned back home without any fuss (:

As always, if there’s a tag I missed or anything you’d like me to specifically mark, please let me know so I can add it for future fics!

Taglist : @whumpsday @painsandconfusion @suspicious-whumping-egg @t0rture-me

--

CW: Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Neglect, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Consensual NSFW

Word Count: 3.8K

--

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was so fucking stupid. What the hell was Jonas thinking in that traumatized little brain of his? The correct answer was that he wasn’t thinking at all or he might have realized how this could blow up in his face like a literal shotgun blast.

But he needed this. He didn’t know why he needed this, but something deep within him was telling him it was as necessary as oxygen. A longing he had never experienced, much less expected, that tugged his heart into his throat to do something before he lost what was left of his mind. This had to be a trauma response of some kind, right? A desire to reach closure during the worst chapter of his life? Something that had been broken in conjunction with his bones and spirit during his captivity that could only start to heal if he listened to his gut feeling?

Well, those were the excuses Jonas was going with in any case.

He could neither confirm nor deny how his psyche was healing due to his parents’ adamance he didn’t need therapy to cope with his ordeal. So, he chose to believe this was perfectly normal and reasonable behavior for a former victim. It wasn’t like he was being obsessive, not on the same level as Malik. He simply didn’t have anything better to do in his abundance of free time than to search up every funeral home in a two hundred mile radius. Family owned, company owned, new ones, old ones – Jonas dug through all the records and phone numbers he could get his hands on. He searched for listed associates with the surname Kelly and Kelley and Kellie and Kelee, for directors named Malick or Malik or Maleek, and every combination of the full name imaginable.

It had taken a good few days of amateur detective work, but it felt like this hit was the one. God, Jonas hoped it was. He wasn’t sure how many eighteen hour days he could spend pouring over phone books and internet results he could handle in a row. Not because he was obsessive, just because he had nothing better to do. Having gotten used to the routine of skipping meals and sleeping sporadically, it was a schedule he adapted to easily, despite the head butler urging him to leave his bedroom for fresh air after the seventh consecutive day of research. He could leave when he wanted and right now he had important matters to attend to. Important matters he could never share with another living soul unless he wanted to be institutionalized at his father’s request.

With the bedroom door locked, Jonas picked up the phone and dialed the number from the directory with shaking fingers. A part of him was hoping he’d found what he was looking for. A part of him was dreading the idea of his captor answering, instead wishing he would hit another dead end instead. He double and triple checked the bedroom door again to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted, that prying eyes and ears couldn’t see what he was up to. It was highly unlikely his parents would come down this hall of the East wing and a housemaid had already collected his scarcely touched dinner plate. For all intents and purposes, Jonas should be completely alone. Just as he always had been.

The phone on the other end of the line rang a few times, each little buzz causing his heart to beat in matching rhythm. Stupid idea, stupid, stupid. Even if this was the man he was looking for, there was no guarantee he would pick up the call given how close it was to the end of their listed hours of operations. Jonas would never be able to leave a voicemail if that was the case. He could call back in the morning, perhaps, but would that make him look obsessive to call twice in a row? Because he wasn’t obsessive.

A soft click broke through the ringing. “Thank you for calling Kelley Funeral Home, how may I help you?”

Jonas felt like every breath that had been gearing up for full hyperventilation had been knocked right out of him. Weeks of searching had finally paid off when he heard that familiar deep voice, a southern twang on the syllables that melted the words into something smooth and rich. He found him, he found Malik. He found the man who had assisted in his kidnapping and kept him hostage in a basement for months, torturing him for sick pleasure and killing others for a grisly side business. A serial killer, a sociopath, an insane bastard who deserved to rot for all of his bloody crimes under the guise of being a small town sweetheart.

…now what?

“Hello?” Malik asked when Jonas had yet to respond to his initial question.

He hung up the phone, all but throwing the receiver onto his bed like the plastic had burned him. The air he thought he lost came back to him to suck in great gasps, heart racing and trembling from head to toe. Malik wasn’t even physically here and he could still reduce Jonas to a shaking mess with a how-do-you-do alone. Was that everything he had hoped to achieve during his wild goose chase in tracking down his previous captor? What was he honestly expecting to happen? What did he plan to do moving forward now that he had this information of Malik’s whereabouts on hand? The obvious answer seemed to be that he should take this information to the authorities.

Yet…a million different worst case scenarios ran through his head. The police might think he was in on this whole operation, there might not be any evidence for them to find if Malik knew how to cover his tracks, people might think he was obsessive for hunting down the man who tormented him for no reason. And he wasn’t obsessive!

So, he called the funeral home again once it didn’t feel as if he’d break down into a fit of hysterics.

“Thank you for calling Kelley Funeral Home, how may I help you?” He repeated.

“I…I,” Jonas felt his throat close up, unable to swallow whatever overwhelming emotion he was feeling. Fear, sadness, elation. Every hair on his body was standing on edge, the scars littering his tan skin throbbing with phantom pain as a reminder to what Malik had done. “I’m sorry, I-I just, um…”

“It’s alright, take your time,” Malik said in a wretchedly sweet tone that made Jonas want to scream. “I understand these kinds of phone calls can be tough.” He didn’t know the half of it. “Are you needing assistance with the loss of a loved one?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know why the lie came so easily. All he knew was that he wanted to keep Malik on the phone, wanted to keep him talking with that calm, soothing voice and trick him into thinking everything would be alright.

“May I ask who you’ve lost?”

Everyone, everything. Himself, Jess or Jane or whatever her name was, Carly, Todd, all the other nameless victims he was forced to watch meet their ends.

Jonas cleared his throat in the hopes of dislodging the lump trying to choke him up. “My…aunt.”

There was the sound of a few papers shuffling. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman.”

“Yeah, she…sh-she was,” What was he doing, what the fuck was he doing. “I…I don’t know what to do. I need help.”

Malik hummed. “It’s good to ask for help during difficult times like these, you shouldn’t try to carry that weight by yourself.”

Fuck him. Fuck him for being so well versed in the way of condolences when he was the one inflicting unimaginable amounts of hurt onto Jonas for sick satisfaction. It was unfair in the way his honeyed words could coat the inside of his mind and silence all those nasty thoughts. A warm comfort seeped into his bones, helping to ease the vibrating of his wound up muscles before they aggravated any of his more damaged nerves. Malik was right; he shouldn’t be struggling with this burden all alone. That was the point of therapy, of family and friends to fall back on, neither of which Jonas had at his disposal. All he had was a telephone and the business number for a serial killer. Someone was better than no one.

“I…I’m trying n-not to. But I don’t know who…who else to talk to.”

“Have you been able to process your grief since the incident?”

“Um…I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s as good a place to start as any. It won’t help none to arrange a send off if you’re not able to let go yet.”

“How do I…know if I’m still holding on?”

“Seein’ as you’re not actually looking to schedule a real funeral, I’d say you’re holding on pretty damn tight.”

…huh?

“Y’know, lover,” Malik’s voice had dropped, sweet becoming sultry with a single octave. “This would have been a helluva lot more convincin’ if you had used that li’l star sixty-nine trick to hide your caller ID first.”

Jonas felt like a knife had been twisted into his gut, a sensation he was unfortunately quite familiar with. “Wh-what?”

“I saw the area code, Jonie. Ain’t no one calling from upstate for a service down in Ashton. ‘Sides the fact it came up as Robert Belmont. Is that your daddy?” He explained and oh, Jonas could hear the smirk in his voice.

“H-how…what,” No, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Malik wasn’t meant to know it was Jonas on the other end, he wasn’t meant to know he still had his claws sunk deep into the poor boy.

Instead, he laughed at Jonas’s fumbling. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of my favorite pretty boy calling me at work?”

Yeah, Jonas, what was the reason you had spent the better part of two and a half weeks stalking a deepweb murderer with the intent to give him a call? Was he still going to grasp at straws to preserve his psyche, repeating the lie that it was for closure or police intel or something that was for the good of future victims? Those had to be the real reasons, because the younger man sure as hell wasn’t obsessed.

“I…I don’t know…” He whispered.

“You don’t know?” Malik drawled. Jonas could imagine him reclining back in the office chair looking bored as ever. “So you just felt like wastin’ my time this fine Thursday evening?”

“Fuck you,” The words slipped out before Jonas could stop them, leaving a bitter feeling on his tongue. It felt pathetic to say a shot of anxiety spiked his heart rate at the idea of talking back to Malik in such a vulgar fashion. Before, he would have gotten a backhand to the face and the threat to split his tongue. But he was safe now. He was safe. Malik couldn’t get to him here, despite the fact Tucker and his goons had managed to smuggle him out prior.

“We’re awful brave when there’s five cities between us, aren’t we? Where was that sassmouth when I had you all to myself, or had I already bled that outta you?”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! He had no control over Jonas now! The heir refused to acknowledge the way his hands were trembling again as if they were cold, instead focusing on the heat of anger bubbling in his chest. “Maybe this is a wiretap, you psycho. I could be getting all the information I need to turn you in to the FBI.”

The older man snorted. “The fact that you said any of that is enough for me not to believe you. As if your folks would keep looking into any of this after they got you back. Deal’s a deal, Jonie.”

So much rage that had been burning within him fizzled into resignation just like that. Malik was right yet again; his parents hadn’t bothered to look deeper into his kidnapping or pressing legal charges against any of the perpetrators. Doing so would mean to continue keeping a police case open, which meant having to have a record of proceedings to inform potential business partners if it was ongoing. The idea of a company being primarily involved in a lawsuit, regardless of the details, was bad for investors. Not to mention that as far as they were concerned, the transaction had been made and there was no need to go back on the agreement. Tucker got his money, Jonas got to keep his organs. Why keep digging into old wounds?

Denying him therapy meant they could deny that there was anything wrong with him as a result of the kidnapping. The poor boy was nothing short of perfect, just as every Belmont was. The dark thoughts could swirl in his repressed memories as much as they liked so long as they never exposed themselves to the public. Besides, the entire manor had been upgraded in terms of security, both technical and in manpower – a hefty price to pay to give Jonas peace of mind. Ungrateful thing, no wonder they didn’t want him in therapy, who knew what kind of things he’d blab to a nosy doctor that could be taken out of context to smear the family name. Just because he was a troubled boy doesn’t mean he gets to lash out and throw a fit to bring everyone else down.

“Listen, lover,” Malik said, interrupting the other’s brief bout of self loathing. “When you figure out why you’re so obsessed with me, you’re more than welcome to call back.”

What!? Jonas wasn’t obsessed! Malik was the one who was obsessed, Malik had made his unnatural interest in the Belmont boy very clear from the start. Soiling his skin with scars that still ached in the cold temperatures, forcing him to develop borderline anorexia that refused to let him stomach more than a few bites of any meal, slicing off bits and pieces of him as if the man was attempting to peel away the layers of his soul. But sure, yeah, Jonas was the obsessed one just because he was the one that decided to make the first move after he had been booted from the basement. So much for being Malik’s ‘favorite’ considering he had never reached out once since their separation.

Or was that because Jonas had never really been his most beloved living victim after all, he wondered with icy realization. It was quite possible he was only treasured because he was physically available to be toyed with. A convenience. Similar to how most marriages worked in his family tree, the relationships were arranged based on end goals rather than true love, though in rare cases mutual feelings had been garnered. Malik, however, was not an individual who could grow to develop deep emotions like that. Love was a foreign concept to sociopaths, at least in the traditional sense. He had never genuinely loved Jonas regardless of the bloody affection he flaunted. Obviously he didn’t, or he wouldn’t have abused and mutilated him for personal enjoyment. Jonas had always known this.

So why did it feel like Malik had succeeded in ripping his heart out of his chest once and for all?

He was aware of the tears running down his cheeks before he registered the dial tone ringing in his ear, indicating Malik had hung up some time ago. His hand slowly lowered the receiver to his side, unable to do much else while he processed everything to the best of his traumatized abilities. Tears continued to blur his vision, but green eyes were hardly looking at anything. Alone again. After so much work to track him down, after so many months of listening to him sweet talk like a real spouse, Jonas was left all alone again. The fleeting taste of human connection was a sham, just as he had always known it was during his captivity. Yet now, for some reason, the promise of being loved had felt like the greatest high of his life. Of course, the lows were brutal and unforgiving, but they were so easily brushed to the side of his mind.

Those five minutes of physical affection, those throw away lines of praise, had felt more than enough to balance out losing a couple pints of blood for. A small price to pay all things considered. Even his own parents couldn’t fake a familial bond that well.

Wait, no, hold on. No, no, no, back the fuck up. Jonas was not seriously excusing Malik’s sickening behavior as real love, was he? A couple kisses that the younger man hadn’t wanted in the first place were meant to undo the kicks to the ribs he’d endured from steel toed boots? He was no better than his own mother then, dotting her expensive concealer under her bruised eye and telling Jonas his father was in a foul mood today so don’t bother him. Malik and Robert Belmont were nothing alike, though. Malik’s kindness was much more well versed, making it all the more addictive. There was a substantial amount of distance between Jonas and the funeral home basement, meaning he never had to worry about hands squeezing around his battered throat again. And if that was the case, well…why not reap the reward of Malik’s good graces? It seemed like a solid deal, and the Belmonts were excellent businessmen after all.

The number was redialed before Jonas had finished wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

“That was fast,” A voice answered in lieu of the same formal greeting. “Darlin’, as much as I love playing phone tag with you, I do have a jo-”

“I want to talk to you,” Jonas interrupted.

The strength in his confession surprised him, a wobble quickly returning to his voice as fresh tears clumped his lashes together. “I…I want to hear your voice,” He whispered.

“…like a phone sex thing?”

Well, there went that attempt at being emotionally vulnerable with Malik. He should have known better. The remaining tears that clung to the corners of his eyes were only dislodged as a result of his body jolting in shock at such a lewd suggestion.

“Wh-what!? No! No, I, I-I don’t even know, Christ…” Jonas could feel his cheeks burning at an uncomfortable degree, barely resisting the urge to curl in on himself to hide his embarrassment from the older man on the other end of the phone. He heard Malik laugh, clearly amused at his flustering, and the smooth baritone only made his stomach tighten further.

There was a beat of silence. “You’re kiddin’, though, right? You don’t know what phone sex is?”

Jonas hoped he sounded as incredulous as he must look right now, ignoring the dried tear tracks and flushed cheeks. “Why would I know what that is? That doesn’t sound like it would work for anything.”

“Aw, pretty boy ain’t lost his virtual virginity? That’s the saddest thing I ever did hear.” Malik teased.

“I, God, fuck me–”

“Would love to.”

“No, shut up,” He wasn’t that desperate. Yet. “I don’t want to talk about this!

There was more shifting of things on a desk and the squeak of a chair. “Well then, what are you holdin’ up my landline for? I ain’t gonna sit here doin’ pillow talk with you all night, I have shit to do.”

Then hang up, Jonas wanted to taunt. The problem with that was Malik really would hang up and had no guarantee of when he would answer his call again. As much as he wanted to believe he had grown the bravado to stand up to the killer, he wasn’t sure his fragile self esteem could take the blow of being readily ignored.

“What…do you have to do?” Jonas asked. Redirect the conversation to be about Malik, narcissists loved that. The older man should be kept plenty engaged.

“Do you really want to know?”

Scratch that. Jonas wasn’t interested in being regaled by grisly details of whatever illegal activities he’d gotten up to since his departure. Ignorance is bliss. “N-no…”

“Then I reckon this talk is done for the night,” Malik said.

“Wait, w-wait!” Not yet, not yet, please, not yet. “You’re…Malik, you’re the only one I can talk to. About anything. N-no one else gets it…”

“A cryin’ shame. Go to a therapy support group like a normal person.”

“I can’t. My parents won’t let me, they don’t even talk to me about it! And, and no one else in the house would be able to understand and everyday I feel like I’m going to fucking explode and you’re the only person I have left who will at least acknowledge what happened!” His voice cracked on the last word in a truly pitiful display.

His outburst was only met with a sigh. “Don’t mean I really care.”

“You like when I cry though,” Jonas sniffled. “You said I’m pretty when I’m in pain.”

“You are,” Malik agreed.

“Well I’m in a whole lot of fucking pain right now because of you. I can’t, I…I can’t handle it on my own. I need someone else to see it,” If he had drank more of the offered water to him during meals, he might have had enough fluid in his system to produce a few more tears. Instead, his eyes and nose merely burned. “Please…”

His pathetic pleas for Malik to take advantage of and enjoy Jonas’s post-traumatic suffering must have enticed him enough to relent, because the phone had yet to click in disconnection. How sad it was that after everything he’d been through, the hurdles he’d overcome to survive, the horrors no young man should have to see, he was begging with his tail between his legs for Malik to torment him again. Anything to have his attention back on Jonas again. Anything to trick the Belmont heir into thinking another person cared about him.

“Ten minutes,” Malik finally huffed. “That’s ‘til closing time. I suggest you don’t waste it.”

Jonas blinked. He…really wasn’t sure if all that groveling was going to work when the other man wasn’t physically here to witness his damp cheeks and trembling frame. But it had. That brief discard of dignity had earned him ten minutes of talk time with a killer who stalked his nightmares. Laid out in those terms, that hardly seemed like a prize to win at all.

“Tick tock, Jonas.”

“Um, I…,” Shit, shit, what were they supposed to talk about? What would be a topic that might entice Malik enough to answer the next time he called if this conversation was anything to go by? Something humiliating, something cathartic…

“What’s…h-how does…phone sex work…?”

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 5.d

welp. those poor boys. I hope they're not dead, and there's a way to get them back. Thinking on karma, and what their parents said in the paper, that they only got hurt because they tried to help

also I love these little local ads in the paper, one of them written in comic sans

... is slippery nick the dolphin an other. Nine years would match up with the timeline

goblin interlude? fascinating

“Point of order number seven.  There’s a fight coming.  I don’t think everyone knows there’s a fight coming, but we’re rounding up help because we can’t do all of this alone.  Two sides are picking their teams but one side doesn’t even know.  You are not on these sides, Bumcake.  You’re on my side, understand?”

hmmmmm. Kennet Trio on one side, people who killed the CB on the other? With goblins neutral? I think this is maybe confirmation that Toadswallow wasn't involved with the CB thing. And if the Kennet Trio is the side that doesn't realize they're picking a team, who have they been picking? Snowdrop obviously, maybe Alpeana or John? Or could it count people outside of Kennet, like Zed.

“Five rules,” Bluntmunch growled.

ooh. So he doesn't know about rules 6 and 7? Is this because he's not preparing for the fight, or because he's on a side?

“They didn’t share that.  They’re keeping things close to the chest.” “Yeah,” Matthew said. “But so are we.”

this is ominous! Seems like Edith more than Matthew is opposed to the girls, but at least neither of them seems happy about it?

He hadn’t voiced it to Edith, and Edith hadn’t voiced it to him, but there was the possibility of killing Brie and releasing the Choir again.  A horrible thought and a thought he wouldn’t have had a decade ago. 

if a decade ago Matthew wouldn't have considered killing to release the Hungry Choir, I don't think he would have considered creating it either. And if he wasn't involved in creating the HC, he wasn't part of planning to kill the CB that far back (he could have joined later I guess)

“Tha lassie liked yeh.  Verona did.  If ye’d like to be less lonely, an’ if ye’d be good, we’d have yeh.”

nice that Verona followed up about her. And presumably the eye girl will have some goodwill about it, which could come in handy

The woman stood with one hand to the wall.

Miss?

These places were woven together. The weave wasn’t always obvious, but there were ways to work out their design.

like a fucked up escape-the-room style point and click adventure

“Any one of you can say that!” he called out.  “I’ll try not to kill you, but I can’t have a strange Other wandering around!  Places like this are too sensitive!”

Because the world of the otherverse is so dangerous, you have to interact with caution and suspicion. But that puts you at odds with all others, who also can't trust you. And then things just keep getting worse, because everyone has to act to defend themselves.

The trajectory of her fall shifted to a right angle, plunging her into bright daylight.  The remnants of a neighborhood with brightly painted houses tumbled through the air with her.

is this what happens to the houses from zoomtown?

“You picked us because you think we can do it, but the actual culprit is likely to think we can’t,” Lucy said. “Yes,” Miss told her.

ooooooh! That's a pretty good reason. Also. I think that wording rules out Miss being the culprit? Not discounting that she's using a way around full culpability like I discussed way back in arc 1, but I'm getting more trusting.

Lucy nodded.  “Matthew makes the most sense as the central figure.  Then people like Maricica, Edith, the Choir, and maybe Charles as accomplices.  Though that’s based on a coin turning up in a few ways, instead of anything concrete.”

hmm. I hadn't thought about the driving angle. Still not sure about that making it Matthew though, I think someone could probably have procured a car for Charles to drive. And Matthew's POV earlier didn't seem that suspicious. How would becoming Carmine affect his Doom?

[squishmallow36]

Fitz Vacker and the Secret Museum: I am Howard Carter

^note: title follows naming conventions of the original xavier riddle and the secret museum episodes

Summary: Biana and Fitz's family owns a museum and also a secret museum that can go back in time. Dex is friend who gets brought along for reasons. In this oneshot, they go back in time to visit Howard Carter because Fitz can't solve a crossword puzzle.

Word count: 3587 (the exact same number as my Alan Turing one. Are you proud of me? You should be)

Tw: nausea, dizziness

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @the-blender-of-the-genders (did Bob deactivate? Someone confirm for me please) @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @immersion-blender @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Ready for adventure? 🎵Who's that kid who can travel through time? Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Which great heroes will we find? Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Every single boy and girl Has what it takes to... Change the world! Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Dex! And Biana! And the Secret Museum! Dr. Zoom and the Secret Museum! Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum. Shhh.🎵

    Fitz steps out into the blank white space created by the Secret Museum. Dex isn’t totally sure how it can conjure things out of nowhere, but if it can manage time travel, it can do whatever it pleases for all xe cares.

    Xe doesn’t even understand how the Secret Museum came to be. Or how the time travel works. 

    Xe gives him a thumbs up that xe turned the camera on and he says in his gorgeous, crisp accent, “Hi there, and welcome to the show!”

    Around a year ago, they started filming their adventures through history and posting them on YouTube because they were bored. Everyone watching--mostly kids, at least, according to YouTube--is led to believe that they’re making extremely historically accurate videos, not actual time travel. 

    Besides, it’s free advertisement for Fitz and Biana’s parents’ non-secret Museum, and it’s not like there’s a rule that says the Secret Museum has to be, you know, secret. Other than the name but that could’ve been created arbitrarily somewhere in the Vacker line

    “Today we’re going to meet an ah-mazing person: Howard Carter,” Fitz continues, running a hand through his newly dyed dusty rose hair. 

    Dex sighs inwardly. Oh, he looks so good in pink. 

    Another thing xe doesn’t know is if Fitz’s voice catches on the first syllable of ‘amazing’ on purpose or that’s one of his adorable unconscious habits. 

    Xe steps out in front of the camera to stand next to him. “Howard Carter was an Egyptologist.”

    Biana pokes out from stars know where. “That means he studied Ancient Egypt, which existed for more than three thousand years and was founded more than five thousand years ago!” 

    A wave of dizziness hits xem and xe, subconsciously, reaches for Fitz’s hand to steady xemself. Time scales like that have always made xor head spin, even if xe has been doing this for a decade. 

    Five year olds probably shouldn’t be trusted with time travel, but that’s what you get when you meet someone in kindergarten and then proceed to never leave them alone for more than five minutes. Which is hyperbole, of course. If that was literal, Dex would’ve run away long, long ago. 

    Fitz’s hand squeezes xor own. “He discovered the tomb of King Tutankhamun, and in it, tons of artifacts.” 

    Dex looks at Fitz to avoid being aware the camera exists. “He spent nearly a decade excavating and cataloging his finds.”

    “And he may have released a curse on himself and his fellow archaeologists for disturbing King Tut’s tomb,” Biana adds, smiling evilly. 

    Fitz is the only one of the three that cares enough to attempt to pronounce the fancy words. That is, words with more than, like, five letters. And he’s good at it, so everything works out. Biana doesn’t care enough to try and Dex’s face never wants to cooperate. 

    Dex narrowly avoids burying xor face into Fitz’s shoulder. “Curse? What do you mean curse?”

    “Oh boy. Maybe we should start the show.” He presses the large red button that only serves to offer a nice place to cut the footage while editing. It makes Dex’s life marginally easier, which makes up for itself a thousand times over. 

    The next day, ae finds Fitz sitting in one of the benches that are more comfortable than they look across from Verdi. 

    “Hey, Fitz. Fancy seeing you here,” ae says, sitting next to him. 

    “Oh, hi, Biana,” he replies, not even looking up. 

    Dex wanders past a few minutes later. “Ooh a crossword puzzle!” Xe sits on Fitz’s other side despite the lack of space. “Five across is Charlie Chaplin.”

    Fitz’s eyes flicker to Dex’s. “Wait, really?”

    He scribbles the answer down as Dex nods. 

    “Yeah, don’t you remember meaning him?”

    Biana supplements, “We had to cheer up Laedy Sassyfur. Ce got grape jellied. It was a very sad day.”

    “Oh, right…” Fitz studies his puzzle. “Any guess what three down is? It’s my last one.”

   “Most famous dinosaur.” Biana reads. “Why don’t you ask Verdi? Ve’s a T. rex. Ve might know the T. rex George Washington or something.” 

    Fitz exhales slowly. “Bi, fossils can’t talk. Even if ve did know the T. rex equivalent of George Washington, it’s not like ve could tell us.” 

    “Well, with that attitude, I guess you’ll just have to leave it blank. Unless…?”

    Dex already knows where aer thought process took aer. Xe mumbles, “Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…”

    “To the Secret Museum!”

    Biana starts running, Fitz trailing a few paces behind aer. 

    “You said it,” Dex sighs. “Wait up!” Xe chases after them. 

    It looks like Fitz’s knee is having a not-horrible day. We’ve at least got that going for us. 

    Biana has decided that today they get to enter through the Egypt exhibit, where they have to line up with hieroglyphs they’ve been taller than for several years, but at least the Secret Museum still recognizes the attempt as valid so it doesn’t really matter. Unlike the dragon throne that fits at max two of them, and that doesn’t work. 

    “I wonder who the Secret Museum will send us to meet,” Fitz says, tracing the familiar figures. It’s a replica so there’s no reason to worry about his human oils destroying precious artifacts. 

    “And where we’ll go!” Biana smiles. 

    “And when,” Dex finishes, slightly green at the mere thought of the dizziness that comes with time travel. 

    They run through the wings of the scarab beetle that open up to reveal the Secret Museum in all its glory. It takes a slide down a fireman pole to actually reach it though. 

    As ae begins sliding down, ae calls out, “Look out below!” Nearing the ground, ae greets Keefe, a spherical red robot that assists them on their travels. 

    Fitz is next, sliding down the pole and waiting a reasonable distance away for Dex to follow him after running a mental pros and cons list for the eighty-four thousandth time. 

    Keefe beeps at xem like an affectionately exasperated parent as xe hits the ground ungracefully. Fitz helps xem up and they head together toward the central dais, Fitz beginning to hum excitedly. 

    Biana is already waiting for them up there. “We’re getting something!”

    Up at the podium, Dex begins studying the artifact suspended in the bluish haze. “What is it?”

    “Well, it looks like two weird-looking ovals. And they’ve got a line under them?” Biana describes, unhelpfully. 

    “Whatever they are, they belonged to him,” Fitz points at the curved screen displaying a guy with a mustache and a hat, “Howard Carter. That’s who we’re going to meet!”

    “In England, in 1892,” Biana reads from aer side of the screen. 

    “That’s over a hundred years ago!” Dex might be ahead in math but this and making sure xe gets enough cheese sticks is the only time xe uses it outside of class. 

    That’s not that long ago…I won’t get too dizzy. It’ll be fine. 

    “I just hope he knows a lot about dinosaurs,” Fitz says, unfolding the crossword he jammed into his pocket to glance at it one last time for a reason Dex couldn’t describe. 

    “Only one way to find out…Ready for adventure?” Biana asks, holding out aer hand for a hand stack. 

    “Ready!” Fitz replies immediately, laying his hand on top of aers. 

    “...solid maybe.” Dex leans into Fitz for a moment, trying to hold onto the feeling of not spinning midair. Xe joins the hand stack. “Okay, now I’m ready.” 

    Keefe makes robot noises as they begin levitating. 

    Biana announces, “Here we go!” with that saccharine sweetness only achievable by a potent blend of caffeine and bi lesbianism. 

    Fitz ruffles Dex’s hair as he says, “It’s happening!”

    “Hang on Laedy Sassyfur!” Biana calls, balancing cer on aer head for safekeeping. Don’t ask. 

    Scenes from all throughout history whirl around them, as does Dex’s stomach. Xe latches onto Fitz’s arm desperately in a last ditch effort as the time currents do their best to make xem somersault. 

    With a zap, a gorgeous Victorian estate materializes around them, filled wall to wall with artifacts. The simple white cards describing each object are short, most barely filling a sentence. 

     “So this is England in 1892,” says Fitz, already distracted by a pretty table. You can’t really blame him. It’s an octagon.

    “Hey, I wonder if that’s Howard Carter,” Biana says, referring to a boy across the room that looks vaguely like the picture in the Secret Museum. 

    Keefe beeps a few times, confirming Biana’s theory. Fitz nods, “Yep. Thanks, Keefe.”

    Biana doesn’t wait to ditch Dex and Fitz in their native nerd habitat. “Hi there,” ae says to Howard, almost as focused in painting a painting of an old pot as Fitz is the crown molding. 

    “Hello,” he replies absentmindedly. 

    Ae points to each of them as ae introduces them. “I’m Biana, that’s Fitz, and that’s Dex. It’s nice to meet you.” 

    “I’m Howard, lovely to meet you.” 

    “That’s a nice painting you’ve got there. Wait…does that bowl have feet? Is it supposed to have feet?” Dex asks. 

    “Well, not much is known about the bowl itself, but it’s been dated to circa 3700-3450 BCE, and the hieroglyph in front means ‘to bring.’” Howard answers. 

    Biana gets distracted by another interesting pot, asking, “What’s this pot? It has a face.” 

    Has a face it certainly does. And it’s not the most beautiful face that could’ve been carved into a pot. But maybe that’s the erosion. It’s probably a kjipillion years old. It’s allowed to be a little dented. 

    “It looks like one of your art projects, Bi.” Fitz smiles. 

    Biana laughs. “Yeah, it does. Maybe someday I’ll be featured in an art museum.” 

    “I’m not quite sure what that pot is,” Howard ays. “Check the plaque under it. I find that looking around for a bit and looking from a new perspective can sometimes find you the answers you’re searching for.” 

    “Good idea,” Biana nods, reading from the plaque, “Bes was a common deity depicted on pottery throughout Egyptian history. He was portrayed as short and ugly, with his face and tail resembling a lion. Because children were not judgmental of his appearance, he became the protector god of children. Huh. Interesting.” 

    Fitz leans against the door frame, trying to look around without actually wandering around. “Does this place have a dinosaur exhibit?” 

    “No, sorry. You’re going to have to go south if you want dinosaurs. Around here, history’s a bit more recent. Got some nice Bronze Age artifacts, though.”

    “I don’t see how this is supposed to help me solve my crossword puzzle.” 

    Keefe beeps, queuing up their next location because nothing can be simple and let Fitz figure out the answer before going to a dozen places. We couldn’t have Googled the answer? 

    Dex sighs. “Oh, great. More time travel. Just what I needed today.”

    The time travel magic zaps them to the middle of the desert. Which isn’t actually that far from civilization, but has all the sand that comes with it. 

    “Where are we?” Biana asks, spinning around like ae’s playing geoguessr. 

    “When are we?” Dex asks. Xe would join aer if xe wasn’t so dizzy already from the time travel. It’s probably in the realm of threeish decades later if the nausea is any indication. 

    Keefe beeps. 

    “Keefe says we’re in Luxor, Egypt, in 1922,” Fitz answers. 

    Biana stops spinning suddenly. “Hey, look, it’s Howard!” Ae waves to him. “Hi, Howard!” 

    Howard approaches them, brushing dust from his clothes. It doesn’t seem to make an impact. 

    Fitz smiles. “This is an ah-mazing operation you’ve got going here.” 

    “Thanks.” Howard takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair as he looks back. “I’m the site manager here at Wādī al-Mulūk (وادي الملوك).” 

    The way Fitz flinches is only explained by Biana elbowing him, whisper-hissing, “Fitz, we need the translator.” 

    Howard doesn’t give Fitz a chance to turn it on, instead explaining, “It’s the Valley of the Kings, to you and me. There are dozens of pharaohs’ tombs around here, although we haven’t found much over these past few seasons of work.” 

    Dex draws in the sand with xor foot as xe comments, “Well, that’s certainly disappointing.”

    At the same time Biana asks, “What’s a pharaoh?” 

    Someone clearly did not read aer Kane Chronicles. That’s something ae should know. 

    “So you know how there are kings, emperors, tsars, et cetera?” Howard asks, establishing his background information just in case ae has been living under a rock for a while. 

    Which is…entirely possible. 

    “And presidents!” Biana adds excitedly to Howard’s list. Ae’s one goal in life has been to be president since before ae could walk.

    “Well, that’s a bit different because presidents are elected to their office instead of power being passed down hereditarily, but that could also work as an analogy. A pharaoh is simply the Ancient Egyptian term for a monarch.”

    “Ooh, cool. When I’m president, I should change my official title to pharaoh.”

    Howard smiles amusedly. “There is a bit of messiness regarding when pharaohs actually began to be called pharaohs, as is with everything in Ancient Egypt. There’s loads of history and we only have small bits and pieces of it.”

    Fitz, ever helpful, asks, “Anything we can do to assist in filling in some of those gaps?” 

    Howard considers for a moment, likely debating whether he can trust them anywhere near the delicate ancient artifacts. “Well…we are running a bit low on water carriers at the moment. All the water bottles are here, it’s just a matter of running them back and forth from town.” 

    Biana smirks. “Come on, Fitz. Laedy Sassyfur and I bet we can carry more water than you!” 

    No one knows why ae has to make this into a competition, but for some reason ae does. He doesn’t even try to keep up with aer. Ae needs to get aer excess energy out somehow and trudging around in the dry heat is a good way to do that. 

    About two steps later, Fitz’s foot decides to not cooperate as he falls forward. This is why we don’t trust him outside. 

    “Fitz! Are you okay?” Dex holds out a hand to help him up. 

    “Yeah, I just tripped on that very annoying rock right there.”  

    Fitz steps away from the most evilest stone ever as Howard looks closer, studying it, brows drawn. 

    “Hang on, this rock doesn’t seem to have cleaved naturally.” He brushes away some dust with a brush, even if it doesn’t do much as more sand falls onto it. 

    Darth Vader’s anti-sand rant makes much more sense now. Doesn’t make it a good line of dialogue, but at least it is understandable. 

    Howard calls back to the people milling about just, you know, around. “Can I get an extra pair of hands over here?”

    Clearly Dex and Fitz aren’t qualified enough to be trusted with anything. 

    “You know, that kind of looks like a staircase,” Dex remarks. 

    “Indeed it does, Dex. And it might just lead to something.” 

    An unknown length of time that feels like it’s been years passed in the stifling heat, and everyone has sand in places they didn’t know they had. 

    Fitz stops for a breather, pushing his hair, on the opposite side of artfully messy, back with a hand. “Ugh, it’s been hours. How long does it take to dig out a single staircase?”

    “Laedy Sassyfur is so tired ce could fall over!” Biana adds, and Laedy Sassyfur seems to sigh. 

    “Me too, Lady Sassyfur. Me too,” Dex agrees. 

    Fitz looks at the few steps that have been unearthed at an excruciatingly slow pace, blinking heavily. 

    “Am I seeing things or are there two circley things in the sand? Kinda…like the things in the Secret Museum!”

    Howard holds up a notebook open to a page with a similar symbol on it. “Do they look like this?” 

    “Well, there’s nothing in the middle, but yeah,” Fitz answers. 

    Howard climbs back up to surface level, preparing a whole lecture for Biana, Fitz, and Dex. Because this is probably something they should’ve known.

    But considering Bi didn’t know what a pharaoh was, he can’t assume that they know anything. 

    “Those “circley things” are called cartouches. They’re the way Ancient Egyptians denoted a name in Hieratic script. Usually they’re filled in with hieroglyphs spelling the person’s name, but something must have worn this one away. So there’s a very good chance this is yet another pharaoh’s tomb, and hopefully we learn something interesting from it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must send a telegram to Lord Carnarvon at once. Thank you, Fitz. I wouldn’t have been able to see anything from where I was.”

    As he walks off into town, Fitz is hit by a realization. “So…looking from a new perspective helped him find the answers he was looking for!”

    Keefe makes some robot noises to deliver one final bit of trivia. There’s speculation that Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon were in a relationship of the cognate variety. Do with that information what you will.  

    “Yeah, I can definitely see that,” Biana replies to it. “Those were definitely gay little thoughts going on in that gay little head when he mentioned him.” 

    Fitz simply nods, keeping on a one track mind of that crossword puzzle. You can’t really blame him, though. 

    “Keefe? Let’s go home. I know how to finish my crossword puzzle!” 

    A zap takes them back to the present time in the museum lobby across from Verdi, Dex’s head left spinning. 

    Fitz picks up the crossword puzzle, thinking so hard it’s surprising steam isn’t coming out of his ears. “A new perspective…like upside down!” 

    “That seems incredibly unsafe,” Dex mumbles, wobbling to a nice, safe spot on a bench to live for a few weeks. 

    Fitz climbs up one of the lion statues, attempting and failing to twist around enough to see upside down. “It’s fine, Dex.”

    “You sound like Keefe!” 

     This spot apparently was not good enough as he gets up and runs to the stairs to get to the balcony. 

    “What are you doing now? Wait up!” Dex calls after him. 

    “You know, it would be easier to let him run around.” Biana says. Like ae’s superior to them. 

    “If you don’t make sure your own brother doesn’t fall off the second floor, I’ll have to.” 

    Biana huffs, most of which is exaggeration. “He’s your boyfriend. You get to take care of him.” 

    Before Dex can respond with a well-deserved eye roll, Fitz asks, “Hey, what does that plaque under Verdi say?”

    Biana is closer, so ae gets to read. “This full-size Tyrannosaurus rex model was made in the 1960s. At that time, only five T. rex skeletons had ever been found. All were incomplete, leaving many questions about this prehistoric animal unanswered. Since then, paleontologists have uncovered more than 25 additional T. rex skeletons, including some that are nearly complete.”

    “Tyrannosaurus rex fits!” As Fitz fills in the last page, holding it above his head, Dex convinces xemself that he’s doing to drop the pencil right onto xor head. “Now onto the next one! Anyone know anything about World War Two?” 

    Biana promptly leaves as Dex gets xor phone out to Google the answers secretly so xe looks smarter than xe is. 

    An hour and another crossword later, Fitz wanders into the white space of filming intros and outros, looking for Biana. “What’s a seven-letter word for a three dimensional triangle?”

    Biana rolls aer eyes. “Another crossword puzzle?” 

    “Yeah, why?” he asks innocently. There’s no innocence behind those gorgeous teal eyes. 

    “This is the third one today! And it’s not even noon yet!” 

    “And to think, I never would’ve finished the first one if it wasn’t for Howard Carter.” 

    Biana glares into Keefe’s robotic soul.

    Dex finally finds them, making sure the camera is on (it’s always on. Fitz and Biana don’t seem to know how to turn it off.) because this would probably make a good outro after some editing, and it doesn’t require writing an actual script. And not having to do things is a good thing. 

    “Thanks to him, we know so much about Ancient Egypt. Even if he did release a curse on us all,” xe says not trying to disguise the fact xe’s talking to a camera.

    Fitz smiles, ruffling a hand through Dex’s hair. “Curses aren’t real, darling.”

    “How do you know that?” xe replies, eyes narrowed. 

    “Because it’s an unfalsifiable hypothesis.” Before Dex tries to argue that’s exactly why curses are real, Fitz turns to the camera, escaping this conversation by saying, “Thanks for joining us on our ah-mazing adventure to meet Howard Carter, who used to be a kid, just like you and me!”

    Biana says aer pre-scripted line with zero enthusiasm. “So kids like you can change the world. I am Biana.” 

    “I am Dex.” 

    “I am Fitz, and I know that  looking around for a bit and looking from a new perspective can sometimes find you the answers you’re searching for, just like Howard Carter.” 

    Fitz smiles his movie-star smile, squeezing Dex’s hand. 

    As their eyes meet, it shifts, becoming more real, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

    But before Dex is forced to spend another century editing footage, Biana turns off the camera. 

    “Since when can you turn that off?” xe asks, exasperated. 

    Ae smirks, wandering off to who knows where. Probably off to go find Sophie. Or have gay thoughts over world leaders. Maybe both at the same time. 

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 183 Rundown

The Witch from Mercury: It’s been two months since Suletta beat Shaddiq and Miorine’s off doing PR shit and business meeting being your standard Single Female Lawyer type badass businesswoman, but she’s trusting Suletta with her most important tasks at home which makes her happy. As testing goes forward there’s sort of an underlying anxiety among the club-like initial corporate group that Miorine’s gonna turn it into a for real company and get rid of them and all their high school antics (and honestly in terms of pure utilitarianism she probably should, like these guys are not very good at this, but for sentimental reasons we’re gonna treat that like it’s a bad idea). Meanwhile there’s a plot to kill Miroine’s dad from inside the Fortune 500 amd Shaddiq’s dad is just like ‘that’ll never work count me out’ but Shaddiq hears about it and hires up the Lagoon Company from earth to go help kill him which happens to involve hijacking the spaceship Guel’s currently serving out his Chazz Princeton rich boy humbling arc on so that’s kind of a lot. Meanwhile meanwhile, Suletta’s really excited about giving little phone charms to Miorine to share with her and I’ve watched enough anime to know anytime an anime schoolgirl skips down the street giggling about how great something will be, something is about to go horribly horribly wrong. There’s a New Fake Ceres and apparently this one’s the horny one because he just comes right onto Suletta saying that Miroine’s basically enlisted Suletta into a loveless political marriage like the Clintons and he wants to be her Monica Lewinsky so yeah that’s all kinds of fucked up and I feel like I’ve very much aged myself with that reference but I stand by it. Suletta’s a good lesbian and tells him to fuck off and even she notices the changes in him despite being a complete idiot to social clues so this guy’s not doing a very good job at acting. Turns out the worst is yet to come though as Miorine’s back and has hired people to take care of all the domestic shit she was having Suletta do and even hired Ceres to split the product testing workload with her (though if I remember correctly the Cereses can only pilot Gundam stuff by sitting on cockpits of broken glass and having bodies enhanced to resist broken glass so idk if that’ll hurt the company’s numbers or what). So this is actually a really good dilemma, like from Miorine’s perspective she’s been putting too much on Suletta and wants to make sure she doesn’t overwhelm her because she does care about her and Suletta is kind of a flighty ditz so you don’t want to give her too much, but from Suletta’s perspective Miorine’s taking back all that trust she put in her and devaluing their relationship and saying she’s not needed. It’s like Suletta’s a housewife and Miorine hired a maid but Suletta likes doing housewife shit and doesn’t wanna sit around drinking brandy and complaining about the neighbors, it’s a neat little conflict where you can see where they’re both coming from and I quite like it. Ummm also Prospera’s meeting with Miorine’s dad so hopefully she doesn’t get caught up in the Lagoon Company assassination attempt or else we’d be out the only two parental figures our main characters have.

Inuyasha The Final Act: Following up on last time, Kaede confirms that the will of the Jewel itself is what’s sealing Kagome’s power now that she’s become too strong, similar to how Midoriko’s will sought Kohaku and Koga being absorbed in order to make the jewel whole and purify Naraku, there’s a lot of Jewel Shenanigans in the back half of this series. Meanwhile demons are challenging Sesshomaru because he’s got no weapon, one arm, and a kid with the last jewel shard with him, but luckily Sesshomaru’s so overpowered he can literally beat 90% of the cast with one hand rotting in his father’s grave. Still, now we get the big reveal that Naraku’s working with the evil part of the jewel itself, Magatsuhi and Naraku’s just like ‘you better get off your ass and do something or else the good guys are gonna win’ because Naraku will literally do anything to get out of fighting for himself. So Magatsuhi uses part of Naraku’s body to basically possess a chunk of him and become a pseudo-incarnation and like… for the big bad of the series, mastermind behind the corruption of the jewel and murderer of Midoriko, this guy’s mid as fuck like he has genuinely no aura whatsoever and is not much of a physical threat at this point in the series, shown by his main strategy being literally immortal and hiding behind the peanut gallery so Inuyasha can’t do his big AOE attacks. He does manage to corrupt Kohaku’s shard and knock Kagome out with Conqeror’s Haki but like unless you’re specifically Sesshomaru working at 25% power he’s not very threatening. Still Sesshomaru shows off that he has healing powers and always has but is just too stubborn to use them and transforms into his Full Demon form, where Jaken confirms a long-standing theory I had as a kid that Full Demon Sesshomaru is the peak of his physical strength but sacrifices his aura and strategy which is why Inuyasha was able to take him down so easily in like episode 4, it’s just a big strong punching bag. Still, Sesshomaru can injure Magatsuhi’s ghost form with the Tenseiga, but it isn’t strong enough to hurt his physical body so he’s swallowed up, going through an existential crisis with Inuyasha shouting at him that he’s stupid if he’d rather die than be shown up by the person he gave his technique to and we don’t actually see if but Sesshomaru does let go of all of it, his attachment to the Tessaiga, the mildly shitty thing his dad did to him in getting him to make a new ultimate attack for the main character, and his renewed compassion for the people around him, culminating in the formation of the Bakusaiga, the ultimate in badass swords ten times stronger than the Tessaiga’s base attacks and with the added ability of poisoning any regeneration attempts, it’s so fucking broken it sounds like something someone playing Inuyasha on the playground would make up and I love it. He blows away Magatsuhi’s physical body but the ghost escapes, leaving Kohaku’s shard no longer unobtainable by Naraku and Kagome in a fucking coma so between that and the powerup it’s kind of a wash.

Castlevania: Trevor’s feeling some existential angst about going from being a wandering brigand to being a pair of wandering brigands in a healthy relationship and has a nice little talk with the mayor about both of their worries until both they and Sypha’s group see carved symbols around the town, now these aren’t all the same symbol like claiming the place for the Hell Sympathizers of the Priory but they’re different symbols so I’mma go out on a limb and say they’re either runes for a ritual or markings for where key positions of a more formal takeover/sacrifice will be. Alucard’s still off training his Japanese sword twins and is just having fun being a pseudo-father figure to them and again I’ve seen enough anime to know when something will likely go horribly wrong. Sypha confronts Saint Germain about him sneaking around the Priory with glowing rocks and once they meet up with Trevor he eventually admits he’s after the magical multiverse portal that can cross space and time and Sypha and Trevor come to the obvious conclusion that the demon that landed in the Priory is using said magical multiverse portal to unlock unlimited power and exert influence over the cultists and Germain’s just like ‘well fuck, I didn’t think of that’ despite having all the pieces way longer than these two have, like come on man.

Konosuba: So about that Kazuma rescue arc… yeah, not gonna happen. Kazuma’s enjoying his life in the capital and being the scumbag we all know he is (though honestly not as big of one as he COULD be, still pretty bad though) and he cultivates the Onii-chan relationship with Iris that he’s always wanted. It’s interesting because we actually do get a good look at how the war against the Devil King is affecting the world at large, even Kazuma’s like ‘somebody should do something about that’ even though HE’S the one supposed to be doing something about that, which is pretty funny. Eventually the gang DOES come to get him back once he’s been a bit too indulgent but they agree to stay for one more night so Iris can say goodbye. During the party Darkness gets hit on by a bunch of obnoxious flowery guys talking about how pretty she is in increasingly ostentatious ways which this may be me thinking too much about it but maybe she’s just a masochist because everyone spends so much time kissing her butt she’s literally bored of all the ways they invent to say how great she is and pain and degradation are somehow more ‘real’ to her, like if people are always lying to your face with good things you’re bound to feel like the bad stuff is the truth, but again that may just be me headcanoning too hard. Kazuma picks up on how uncomfortable she is and livens the mood a bit TOO much and gets kicked out, where Iris finds him and talks about how she knows because he’s such a scumbag that he’s always being real with her and she appreciates it. During the conversation she mentions a Phantom Thief that’s Robin Hooding their way around stealing from the corrupt and giving to the needy and in hilarious fashion Kazuma agrees to stop this nice yet technically illegal person to save his own skin and stay in the lap of luxury a bit longer. But before he can pull a Light Yagami and vaguely pretend to catch someone he has no interest in catching for two years, they kick him out of the palace and make him go stay with the targets of the Phantom Thief so now they’re stuck with the dude that almost killed them for teleporting a mech bomb into his house, fun stuff.

Delicious in Dungeon: It’s the first part of the two-part midseason finale, and the plan comes apart almost immediately who would’ve guessed. Turns out using cooking pans as shields doesn’t exactly work the same because cooking pans SPREAD heat instead of blocking it, need some giant armored potholders for that. What’s more, the dragon is basically completely unphased by their building trap, idk why they thought a giant armored lizard impervious to explosions would mind having a bridge dropped on it but maybe they thought it ate Captain Kirk and absorbed his weakness to bridges. Even Laios’s parasite sword wants nothing to do with this and jumps out of the way and hunkers down. Senshi and Chilchuck sacrifice themselves to take out one of its eyes and Laios comes up with a plan to launc himself off the pan BotW Shield surfing style and dangle his leg from the dragon’s mouth to stab its weak point. Now I thought he was gonna get completely swallowed and stab its weak point from the inside which would’ve been cooler but this is still pretty damn cool. While Laios is unconscious there’s a small flashback that’s otherwise just for emotional stuff but I do want to bring attention to the fact they come across a ring that binds souls to bodies similar to what the dungeon does and apparently it was in the possession of an elf so that may or may not be relevant to the story given we’re getting dripfed this shit REALLY slowly. One short flashback about Falin later, Laios is down a leg and before I can start thinking we’re gonna have some cool How to Train your Dragon parallels with a disability character they just fucking reattach the thing, idk I think one-leg Laios would’ve been a neat wrinkle though at least he gets a scar for his trouble. Still the group aren’t able to find Falin anywhere in the dragon’s guts and ultimately determine her remains are in the pseudo-appendix where they find her weapon and what Laios presumes to be her fucking skull so uhh that’s dark, dunno what the extent of that healing magic is but unless we can spontaneously regrow flesh we’ll have to get into some FMA territory here and work on some human transmutation, I mean Laios DID already sacrifice a leg so who’s ready to be put into a suit of armor? Senshi? Probably Senshi.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End: The time has finally come for Sein’s big decision whether to stay with the group or chase after his friend… is what I would be saying if there wasn’t a bigass blizzard out of nowhere. Sein gets to enjoy a little more time with his friends even if they mostly go off and do their own things, even getting to mediate one last Fern and Stark fight and tell them both they have to act like adults and stop pouting over stupid shit. Side note but I kinda really like this little tiff they have like at first it sounds like Stark did something completely reasonable and Fern just flipped out but Fern reveals that she was actually scared because of how easily Stark was able to immobilize her even for just a gag and then was embarrassed about how scared she got for a sec, like it’s a very natural reaction and something men and women of any type kind of have to acknowledge when being around each other, there’s sort of an instinctual fear that doesn’t come up a lot but it is nice to touch on it and have Fern apologize and share her feelings on the matter and request for gentler treatment idk I just really like that touch. Either way as anyone could’ve called, Sein does decide to head off on his own after one last talk with Frieren and says his bittersweet goodbyes after leaving assured the group will be alright without him. Next Fern gets sick so we get to have a nice little Stark/Frieren adventure, a neat little pairing we don’t see the two of them alone much together and they bounce off each other well, Stark brings out Frieren’s sillier side a bit and Frieren doesn’t rile Stark up as much as Fern does so they’re able to have an earnest discussion about Fern and her growing up and Frieren feeling like something of a mother figure to her in a way which even normal mothers have a hard time watching kids grow up so far so Frieren must be getting whiplash for how fast Fern grew up on her sense of scale. Still they’re able to stay at a little farm where Stark gets complimented on his skill with milking tits so make of that what you will, we’re back on track and ready to start the Mage Exam arc next time.

Nekomonogatari Black: Araragi breaks into Hanekawa’s house and finding out she literally has no impression on the state of her home scares him worse than anything we’ve seen in the series, like the guy fights ghost crabs and got the shit kicked out of him by a basketball playing yuri monkey and the sheer amount of neglect this girl faces TERRIFIES him. Ironically though unlike most busybody protagonists that’re just like “I HAVE to be the one to solve this” he does agree to Oshino’s wishes and lets him handle it… until three days later when Oshino’s been beat to shit twenty times because he’s playing the world’s most NSFW version of Wile E. Coyote with the bustiest Roadrunner I ever hope to see. Apparently it’s like the time Piccolo fought Frieza in DBZ and Black Hanekawa isn’t that strong but normal Hankeawa is just that smart that she knows all Oshino’s traps before he springs them, him claiming she “knows everything” but Hanekawa’s own catchphrase would obviously disagree with that. Dejected, Araragi goes to lick Hanekawa’s desk in remembrance of her tits, you know, normal teenage boy stuff. Black Hanekawa shows up through sheer force of “Bro wtf are you doing” vibes and gives him the general gist of what we got from her motivation at the end of the first season, telling him to tell Oshino to leave them alone or she’ll kill him next time and she’ll be able to leave after 500 more attacks and she murders Hanekawa’s parents, so that’s uhh not great.She says something interesting though and basically implies Hanekawa’s a sociopath who only does the right thing all the time not because she’s good or feels empathy but because through her sheer emotionlessness she can accurately pinpoint what the right thing to do in situations is and does it to keep up appearances and thus she can’t be preyed upon by spirits who feed off her fucks because she has no fucks to give. I mean at that point idk, what’s the difference? The good shit is still getting done and if Hanekawa’s not doing it for any emotional payoff or catharsis if I remember my Categorical Imperative correctly that’s MORE morally good than doing it for the ‘right’ reasons and while Kant’s kind of a weirdo in that regard you can’t really argue with the results like is that something Hanekawa should feel bad about if the cat gets buried at the end of the day? Maybe that’s what Black Hanekawa sees and sympathizes with idk. Either way the conversation ends with Araragi resolved to stop Black Hanekawa and set Hanekawa free even if it kills him. Like this is the kind of shit that makes Araragi so hard to parse, like on the one hand he is easily on the scummiest spectrum of scumbag protagonists with underage shenanigans that put Made in Abyss to shame but on the other hand sometimes he’s just so fucking cool and able to leverage his usual scumbag behavior to get people to underestimate him, this is why I keep going back and forth on this series.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Over The Odds | Surprise

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, fluff, ceo!jungkook, sugardaddy!jungkook

Word count - 5.7k

You’re offered a life changing opportunity 

warnings: mentions of mental health illnesses, mental health facility, toxic family members, oral sex (f receiving), passionate prone bone sex, soft jk & oc

FULL SERIES COLLECTION

Jungkook’s home has become your safe haven, a place to escape reality and catch a moment of breathing space when life gets tough. The familiar scent of musk and vanilla adds a certain nostalgia to the air, you miss him, he’s at work a lot of the time but has given you free reign of his place whenever sleeping in Jimin’s bed proves too much for you. It’s been one month since Ruth’s arrest, one month since Jennie had also been taken into police custody for her part in all of this too. Finally, fucking finally you’re beginning to feel like a ginormous weight has lifted from your shoulders.

Telling your parents what your sister had done was no easy task, your mum broke down in floods of tears and blamed herself: ‘maybe I raised her the wrong way’, ‘maybe I should’ve been there for her more’, and the one that stung the most, ‘I should’ve seen this coming’. Your father had a similar reaction, locking himself in his office for what felt like a lifetime to silently ponder all the parental mistakes he made, searching for the signs he overlooked before.

After a lengthy discussion with Taehyung you were advised that Ruth is probably going to be sent to a mental health institute to battle her demons rather than prison. A professional had conducted an examination on your sister, revealing that she is suffering with a collection of illnesses that alter her personality. As far as you’re aware she’s undergoing treatments and responding well to the medication, it’s hard to say for sure because you haven’t visited her yourself – only your parents have, initially to seek answers from their oldest daughter but you suspect they keep going back out of guilt.

Thankfully no legal repercussions came from Jungkook fighting with Namjoon, he’s assured you that there’s no footage of him ever being there and Taehyung has also advised that if anything is to creep up, he’s more than prepared for it with a catalogue of receipts proving why Joon isn’t a reliable source and any claims he makes shouldn’t be taken seriously by the law. 

The hole in your heart from Namjoon’s infidelity has healed, however the betrayal of your sister is currently a working progress. If it wasn’t for Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi god only knows how you would be feeling right now. Things are settling down some, you’re applying for jobs left right and centre but to no avail, not yet – Jungkook has been taking care of you in every way possible: emotionally, physically, financially, despite your frequent protests telling him he doesn’t need to.

It's a Friday morning when you’re sitting in your boyfriend’s kitchen, propped up on the counter top in short silky pyjamas with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. You’re mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, saving a few outfit inspiration posts that catch your eye when the device rings, displaying an unknown number.

“Hello?” You answer lazily, confused.

A woman who sounds to be mid thirties replies, “Hello, good morning, is this Y/N?”

“Who’s calling please?” You frown, sipping at your steaming drink.

“My name is Linda, I work for the BBC. Just to confirm am I speaking to Y/N?”

“…The BBC?” You cock your head to one side, “Yeah this is Y/N, what can I do for you?”

“Brilliant! I’m calling today to arrange a meeting with you if possible, I work in television and we’re currently looking into a documentary on cyber crimes against women in the UK. I’m very interested in sharing your story, with your consent of course. You’re quite the celebrity these days and I think with your platform we could really shine a light on this topic and the repercussions that come from stories like yours.”

Your jaw drops, you’re frowning, eyes wide, heart quickening.

“I-,” You’re at a total loss for words, this is something that you feel so strongly about and the chance to potentially help others who have gone through similar experiences is something you’re very much interested in doing, “That sounds like something I’d be interested in doing, when can we meet?”

“How does next Thursday at 2PM sound?”

“That would be great, thank you so much for calling me…” You’re wearing a surprised smile, already excited about the prospect of this new opportunity.

“No thank you for taking my call, take care Y/N we’ll see you next week and please feel free to brainstorm any ideas you may have, we’d like you to be as involved in this project as possible.”

“Thank you, have a good day.” You end the call with a single tap of the thumb, throwing yourself off the kitchen countertop with a grin to get ready for the day ahead.

BBC want your help sharing your story about cyber crimes against women? This could open up so many doors for your career, maybe you can even make use of your business degree and turn the hellish events of this year into something much, much bigger. Your brains doing overtime when you do your hair and makeup after a quick shower, deciding today is a day for celebration. You shimmy yourself into a champagne slip dress, a recent gift from your boyfriend, and grunge it down with some converse and an oversized black leather jacket.

The paparazzi are already waiting outside Jungkook’s building for you, as they usually are these days, so you offer them a small smile and wave before making your way to Jimin’s place to tell him your surprising yet very exciting news.

“Y/N? What are you doing here it’s not even 10AM.” Jimin rubs the sleep from his eye in his matching blue pyjamas, stepping to one side to let you in.

“Good morning sunshine. The BBC just called me, they want me to be in a documentary about cyber crimes against women.” You blurt in excitement which seems to wake your best friend up as he’s grinning just as widely as you are.

“Whoa, Y/N that’s amazing! Are you gonna do it?”

“Maybe? I think it could be a good thing to help them with this?”

Jimin pulls you in for a hug in the cluttered living space, you notice there’s cardboard boxes scattered about the apartment, “I think it’s a great thing, I’m so proud of you—”

“For having sex on camera?” You chuckle against his warm neck, “No but really, I wanna raise awareness for this type of thing, I already have so many ideas to tell them.”

“What’s Jungkook said about it?” He peels back and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi over his shoulder, shuffling around in pyjamas similar to Jimin’s.

“I’m gonna tell him tonight, they only called this morning.” You smile, waving at the newest member of your small friendship circle. “What’s with all the boxes?”

At this his face drops into something guilty, he turns away from you to boil the kettle and make everybody a drink, “Uh-, Y/N…”

“What?”

“Come on let’s sit down.”

And so you do, choosing to settle on the arm chair with your freshly made herbal tea as the couple take the small sofa along the next wall. Yoongi and Jimin, or yoonmin as you’ve affectionately labelled them, are the epitome of the perfect couple. They’re great together, in the time you’ve known them as a unit you’ve learned that their personalities couldn’t be more different even if they tried. Where Jimin is loud, sometimes overbearing and outgoing Yoongi is more reserved, introverted but his one-liner jokes always have a way of catching you off guard.

“What’s going on?” You quirk a brow, heart melting when your gaze finds Yoongi soothingly rubbing small patterns on Jimin’s thigh.

“The tenancy agreement on this place runs out next month,” Jimin sighs, “So… I’m gonna move in with Yoongi, but don’t worry we’ve spoken about it and—”

“And you can move in with me too, I live in Jungkook’s building… My apartment isn’t as big or luxurious as his but I have a guest bedroom that—”

“That we can decorate and make it yours, nothing has to change I still want us to live together—”

“We want you to live with us.” Yoongi corrects his boyfriend with a content nod and gummy smile, his newly bleached silver hair falling into his eyes.

“Guys…” You’re laughing breathily, taken aback by their gesture bless their sweet souls, “Thank you, really thank you so much but… I mean I practically live at Jungkook’s anyway, I can always talk to him and see if he’s ready to take the next step in our relationship and… Yknow… If not I can go back to my parents’ house it’s no big deal.” You nervously chew your lower lip, you want to live with Jungkook, hell in a way it feels like you already do, but you don’t know if he feels the same way.

“No really you can live with us Y/N, don’t feel like you have to ask anybody else.” Yoongi guzzles the rest of his morning coffee, promptly standing from the sofa, “Anyway I’ve gotta go get changed and get to work, I’ll see you both soon.”

“I mean it Y/N you can live with us, I’ve already picked out the colour scheme of your new bedroom.” Jimin beams like a proud dad, winning you to kick your head back with a laugh.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one who does that?”

“Well you’ve had a really traumatic six months… I thought I could lighten your burden.” He justifies with a mocking nod, hand clutching his heart.

“Ah, well thank you so much.”

“How are you doing now?”

“You mean since I saw you yesterday?” You giggle, “I’m fine.”

“No but really… How are you doing? Have you heard anything from uh-, Ruth?” He almost looks guilty when her name leaves his lips, though he has no reason to feel that way. It’s not like he was the one who betrayed you.

“My parents have been visiting her… She’s not well, but I haven’t spoken to her myself since she was arrested.”

“Are you going to speak to her?” Jimin’s question catches you off-guard, you almost drop your drink as you mull over what he’s asking of you. Do you want to see her? To speak to her? After everything she’s done?

You shake your head slowly, “Probably not, I hope she gets all the help she needs but to be frank with you I don’t want to be a part of her life anymore.”

“Understandable. So tell me more about this documentary!” 

The rest of your morning is filled with Jimin trying to convince you to live with him and his partner, to which you do begin to consider it – maybe living with them would be the best thing. You’ll still be close to Jungkook, a lot closer than if you moved back into your family home, and you wouldn’t have to put a strain on your relationship by asking to move in either. It’s after a food delivery and endless conversations about the future with your bestie that you decide to head back to Kook’s apartment; excited to tell him about your new opportunity.

--

Back at the penthouse you’re busying yourself by hanging up Jungkook’s dry cleaning in his walk-in closet, it’s a little after six pm when the elevator chimes signalling his arrival. He looks fucking delicious today, as always, wearing grey and black checked trousers with a black shirt tucked into them, the first few buttons undone exposing his tanned skin. His hair is pushed back away from his face, flaunting his thick brows and chiselled features that soften upon seeing you when he steps inside the bedroom.

“You look…amazing baby,” His stare hungrily drags itself up the way the champagne coloured dress hugs your curves, “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” You shrug, smiling when he makes his way over, “How was work?”

“Ah yknow, bit of this a bit of that… Same shit different day.” He chuckles, his expensive cologne flooding your senses when he stands behind your frame, snaking his strong arms around your waist, “Is this new? Don’t think I’ve seen you wear it before, and I’m sure I would’ve remembered...” He squeezes the material of your dress, peppering your neck with dainty kisses.

“Mhm, my boyfriend bought me it last week actually.” You hum amused, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots with each of his little touches as you hang up the last of his suit jackets.

“Ahh, now I remember. He has good taste.”

“Well I guess there is kind of an occasion,” You loll your head to one side, granting him further access to your sensitive skin, his dark bangs tickle the flesh of your earlobe, “I’ve been asked to help the BBC with a documentary they’re doing on cyber crimes against women.”

“What?” He pulls his head back, spinning you in place until the swell of your breasts are flush with his toned chest, “That’s… Y/N that’s incredible, are you gonna do it?” His eyes are trained to yours, his smile genuine and brightening up the otherwise dark room.

To this you lift your shoulders, “Maybe? I mean I want to, it’s a topic not enough people talk about. I have a meeting with them next week to discuss it properly.” His hands find purchase on your waist, gripping you tightly.

“Well whatever you decide to do you have my full support, I know things have been rough for you and if this is a way for you to get closure and take control of the situation then I’m all for it.”

You hadn’t even thought about it like that, maybe sharing your story and what you went through with the video leak will be good for you, therapeutic even. Maybe it will give you closure, discussing your emotions and shining a light on the repercussions of revenge porn. You bring your arms to his broad shoulders, lightly grazing your manicured fingertips on the nape of his neck, winning a content sigh to fall from your boyfriends lips.

“You know I could get used to this.” He rests his forehead against yours with a breathy chuckle.

“Don’t destroy this one and I’ll wear it more often then.” You giggle, pressing your lips to his in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Mm, you know that I’m not talking about the dress,” He hums against you, your teeth almost clink together because of how much you’re both smiling, “I meant you being here when I get back from work.”

“I’m pretty much always here now.” You kiss him again, this time swiping your tongue over his lips earning yourself another sigh. He walks you backwards out of the closet until your knees hit the foot of his bed, his mouth never leaving yours when the kiss deepens into something more…desperate.

“I’m just saying,” You can feel how hard he’s already getting against your abdomen, his voice is husky and deep with seduction, yet quiet against your lips, “Maybe you should bring more things here, I like that you’re here a lot.”

“A little too much apparently.” You snake a hand down to cup his length, he hisses before shaking his head in disbelief with a smile.

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Mhm, I get that quite often.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should learn how to behave then.” Your back hits the mattress with a small ‘oomf’ from your end when he pushes you onto the bed, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his muscular arms.

“Maybe.” You repeat with a smirk, hands gliding to his shirt buttons where you get to work in undoing them, “But maybe you secretly like that I’m such a brat.”

“It’s not much of a secret at this point now, is it?” He smashes his lips to yours in a series of lewd frenzied kisses that has you weak at the knees embarrassingly fast. You quickly rid him of his shirt, fingernails tracing the intricate patterns of his body art.

A small whine escapes you when he holds your hands above your head with one of his, pinning you in place. His other gets to work on hiking your dress up until the material pools your middle, exposing the pretty purple lacey thong you decided to wear today. He licks the shell of your ear before taking it between his teeth.

“Jungkook…” You breathe, desperate to feel more of him.

“Sometimes I forget how sensitive you are...” He murmurs, repeating his previous action until your hips are buckling up into his in search of friction. Thankfully he recognises your neediness and two inked fingers find their way to the waistband of your underwear, playfully twanging it, you can feel him smirking against your neck.

“Please…” You whimper, hands struggling against his hold.

He pulls back to sit on his knees, searching for the zipper of your dress. Your hands are finally free but you freeze, body tensing up as you stop him. You haven’t been completely naked in front of him, sober, in a very long time. Every time you’d been intimate with him you’d found a way to keep your lingerie on, or wore something with easy access that didn’t need removing completely. You still feel insecure about your body ever since it was publicly exposed.

“No-, stop.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, Jungkook stops in his tracks immediately with big brown doe eyes zoned in on your face.

“Are you okay?” He’s worried, but you’re distracted by the way his muscles flex under the dim lighting of his bedroom.

“Yeah yeah,” You nod quickly to reassure him, “Just leave the dress on please.”

“Y/N…” His brows are knitted together in confusion, “Why?”

At this you sigh, somewhat under pressure, “I just don’t feel-, please?”

“Baby…” His voice is low and quiet, he’s gripping your thighs gently, “You’re perfect, you know that right? So fucking perfect.” He lowers his mouth to your open thighs, gently sucking the flesh between a series of licks and kisses, winning a soft moan from you. “I love you so much baby…”

“I love you too.”

“Do you trust me?” His breath is warm against your skin as he slowly makes his way up to your underwear.

“You know I do.” You whisper, lying flat on your back against the bed sheets.

“Then please… Don’t cover up this beautiful body of yours…” He takes your lingerie between his teeth, playfully pulling it back. A groan erupts from your chest when he licks at your barely clothed clit, his hooded eyes are glued to yours, “I wanna see all of you, I wanna feel all of you… You’re perfect, so fucking perfect.”

“Please touch me Jungkook…”

You’re twisting the sheets beneath you when he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs painfully slow before you’re kicking them off the bed. He’s taking his time with you tonight, littering your folds with small kisses before finally he takes your clit between his lips and sucks gently.

“Fuck,” You throw your head back, body feeling ten million times hotter than it did when he first got back.

“You like that baby?” He hums, proud, flattening his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves where he traces small, familiar patterns – the same patterns he always does, making you come undone every time without fail, “You like it when I eat you out like this?”

“Mmm, yeah I do…” You push your core up to meet his mouth, his tongue massages your clit rhythmically.

He shifts on the bed, laying flat on his toned stomach as he continues to lap up your growing arousal. You’re growing wetter and wetter by the minute, the lewd noises of his mouth against you fill the otherwise quiet atmosphere and heat spreads your abdomen.

“Keep going.” You mewl.

“Take your dress off for me baby,” Jungkook’s stare is fuelled by nothing other than lust, “Please, you don’t need to hide from me Y/N.”

Lazily your fingers find the zipper and soon you’re pulling the champagne silk off your figure, exposing your matching purple bra which is sheer enough to see your nipples through it. You’re too turned on to feel insecure, Jungkook groans at the sight of your exposed body, burying his face between your folds with a new found determination.

“And your bra.” He mumbles.

Within minutes you’re completely naked and spread wide for your boyfriend, he’s eating you out so passionately and so messily that you’re already close to seeing stars. You yell something that sounds like his name when his arms reach up to your bare breasts, thumbing and rubbing your nipples, his touch featherlight but has you a writhing mess within minutes.

“You taste so fucking good baby.” He moans. The sound vibrates against you until it reaches your insides, adding to your growing orgasm while he speeds up his ministrations.

“Jungkook, fuck-“ You’re a panting mess, rolling your hips against his face. You peer down at him, it’s like he’s hypnotised by your pussy, suckling it so hard and perfectly in sync with the way he’s pinching your nipples. After a few particularly harsh licks and flicks of his tongue you welcome the white hot heat that threatens to spill, fingertips flying to his raven locks where you pull him impossibly closer, “There, oh my g-, right there, don’t stop! I’m gonna! Don’t stop!”

And he doesn’t, keeping the pace even until you’re empty hole is convulsing, pulsating as you cream all over his mouth and chin with a deafeningly loud moan. As always he helps you ride out your high, slowing his movements when he laps up every last drop of your come while you try and steady your heaving breaths.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I love watching you come for me...” He exhales, gaze lost in yours. The way he looks at you as he crawls on top of your frame should be illegal, a shaky sigh leaves your lips when his come down to meet them, swallowing your pleas to be fucked. Your arousal lingers on his tongue, the taste swirls against yours and floods your senses.

“Please fuck me, please…please…” You whine.

He falls weak to you begs, quickly ridding himself of his checked pants and boxers, roughly gripping the bend of your waist, “Turn over.” He orders, voice low and dangerous.

You obey, rolling onto your front until your breasts mould against the mattress. Jungkook spreads your legs with his knees before lowering his body onto yours, holding his weight with his arms. He’s kissing your back, his multitalented tongue darting out with kittenish licks on your bare skin.

“Jungkook please.” You whine into the pillow, turning your face to the side.

“What do you want baby? Tell me.” His voice is merely a whisper.

“I want you to fuck me…” You gnaw your lower lip with desperation growing between your already shaky legs.

At this he lines himself up with your entrance, teasingly brushing his length between your sopping folds winning you both to groan in anticipation. There’s a ringing in your ears similar to white noise when he finally, agonisingly slowly, pushes every rock hard inch of himself into your core from behind.

A gasp tumbles from your lips when he rocks his hips into you, his pelvis pressing hard against the fat of your ass cheeks with each movement. He feels so big from this position, filling you up in the most devilishly good way possible. You push your ass up as much as you can, until his shaft brushes against your sensitive and spongey g-spot with every thrust.

“Jungkook.” You mouth falls into a silent ‘o’, eyes scrunched from pleasure.

“You’re amazing,” He breaths against your neck between lewd kisses against your skin, “You’re fucking amazing Y/N.”

You’re panting a chorus of ‘please’ ‘fuck’ ‘yes’ ‘Jungkook’ in sync with each time he fills you up to the brim, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix hard enough to bruise.

“I love you so much… Fuck, I love you princess.” The new pet name whispered between soft groans sends a pang of heat to your abdomen, your second orgasm already approaching, “Touch yourself for me, rub that perfect little clit.”

Snaking a hand down the bed you find the sweet spot with ease and begin to do as he says, tracing small circles over the area in time with the deep yet slow rolls of his hips.

“That’s it, fuck-,” A guttural moan rips from his throat at the way your walls squelch and tighten around him, he knows you’re close, he can tell by your wayward breathing and the way you’re writhing under his weight, “You feel so good, I could fuck you like this forever.”

“Faster, go faster please…” You beg shamelessly.

At this he shakes his head, his damp hair tickling your shoulder, “Nice and slow baby… Nice and slow.”

Pained moans leap from your chest that’s heaving against the bed linen, he’s never been this gentle and passionate with you. The way he’s fucking into you sensually, holding himself in place with one arm as the other comes down to explore your curves, his fingertips grazing every spot on one side of your body until his palm finds purchase on your hip, fingernails digging into your skin when he grips you, pulling your bodies even closer.

“So close…” You warn him with a strangled whimper, speeding up the way your own hand rubs your throbbing clit.

“Go on, give me another one,” He’s equally as breathless as you when he takes the flesh of your neck between his teeth, “Come for me, your pussies already so wet—”

He’s cut off by his own throaty moan, the sound so deep it’s borderline a growl when your second orgasm hits, your hole clenching his thick length so sinfully that you’re nothing more than a blubbering mess beneath him, totally and completely fucked out. Both hands fly to the pillow that you’re squeezing and twisting in your grip, body jolting and shaking as you ride out the wave of euphoria.

“You’re so tight, ah-,” He hisses, kissing your temple.

“Kook…” You’re in a post-bliss daze, barely able to catch your breath. Your mind is blank, unable to concentrate on anything other than the sensations and sounds of Jungkook slowly splitting open your slippery walls. “Oh my god-“

It’s not long before his own orgasm approaches, his grunts turn into whines and his thrusts become messy, he never speeds up though, not once. He rocks his cock in and out of you at a leisurely pace until he’s chanting your name under ragged breaths. You peek back at him for a moment, the sight alone makes you gasp. His eyes are squeezed shut, kiss-swollen lips ajar, messy sweat-stained hair covers forehead and thick brows.

“You’re gonna make me come baby…” His hooded eyes flutter open for a second, his gaze locked onto yours before he buries his head into your shoulder with a loud, gravelly groan, spilling his hot seed into you.

Jungkook stills for a few minutes before rolling off, laying next to you with a glistening chest and worn-out smile, “You’re something else.” He chuckles, playfully spanking your ass. You can’t move, you’re still laid flat on your stomach untrusting of your wobbly limbs to hold your weight in any other position.

“I didn’t do anything.” You hum with a tired grin, “It was that dress.”

“I can assure you, you look much better without it.”

“Hmm.” You bury your face into the pillow, somewhat embarrassed.

“I’m serious,” He starts, lazily draping his arm round your middle, “You’re perfect, this body…”

“Jungkook, stop it.” You’re laughing when he shifts his position, choosing the straddle your hips with his palms massaging your shoulders. You melt under his touch, feeling the epitome of relaxed when he begins to work a particular knot between your shoulder blades with his thumbs.

“That laugh,” He sighs lovingly, “Your smile, your eyes… You’re perfect.”

“Mmm.” You neither agree nor disagree, instead choosing to enjoy this impromptu massage from your boyfriend.

“Y/N...”

“Mmm?” You glance back at him, to which he flashes you a coy boy-ish smile.

“Move in with me.”

“What?” This gets your attention, your limbs are heavy and weak but you manage to roll onto your back, blushing at how Kook is now straddling your front as opposed to your back.

“I’m serious, I want us to live together...”

You’re grinning up at him with hopeful eyes, “Really? You think we’re ready for that?”

“Definitely.” He nods with a smile brighter than ten thousand suns, folding his body until your lips meet again in a heartfelt, blissful kiss.

--

The week flies by, your meeting with the BBC goes better than you had hoped. The main producer Linda, the woman who called you, loved your ideas and is eager to share your story with the world and has given you full creative control in how you want it to be portrayed. You’ve signed a contract with them, it’s officially happening, amongst other exciting opportunities.

“A TV appearance?” Jungkook repeats.

“Mhm, once we’re done filming… To promote the documentary.”

You’re sitting on his lap, being careful not to shift around on top of him too much and save him from an awkward encounter since you’re not alone. It’s pizza night, Taehyung has joined you both for the evening at yours and Jungkook’s now shared apartment but doesn’t seem to mind the obvious semi-public display of affection.

“What’re your plans after the documentary? Like, what are you going to do with it?” Taehyung asks, taking a chomp out of his Hawaiian pizza. Everybody is dressed casually tonight, the three of you in sweats and hoodies while you enjoy some down time together.

“Glad you asked,” You snap your fingers and point to him, rolling your eyes with a smile at Kook who can’t seem to end the string of cheese coming from his own pizza no matter how hard he tries, “I’m finally gonna put my degree to use, I want to start a company that helps women in similar situations to mine… Pay for their legal help when they can’t afford it, provide them with the right resources to get them justice, offer counselling and so on.”

“Like a charity?” Tae raises his brows, seemingly impressed.

You nod, breaking the melted cheese away from Jungkook’s slice for him with your fingers, “Yeah, yknow I never knew what I wanted to do with my degree up until now, I’ve already got a few investors interested in funding the first year.”

“By investors do you mean Guk?”

“Nah,” Jungkook chuckles though he looks vaguely defeated, “She wants to do this on her own, I’ve tried telling her I’ll provide any funding she needs but—”

“But I want the entire thing to be founded by, funded by, and ran by women. Female attorneys, female counsellors, female staff.” You say proudly.

“Isn’t that a little sexist?” Taehyung clicks his tongue but you can’t help but notice he’s impressed by your ambition, his feline eyes wide and glistening when he smiles.

You offer him a small shrug, “I don’t think it is, I just want to give victims of cybercrime and revenge porn a safe space to talk about it and statistically most victims are women. Besides there’s plenty of companies out there that are run by only men.”

“Touché.”

“I’m telling you now,” Jungkook’s palm finds the small of your back, “You’ve got this, I know you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Your hand gently grips his chin and you angle his face towards yours, planting a chaste kiss to his lips which he reciprocates, “Thank you.”

“Any time.” He mumbles against your mouth with a grin, stealing another kiss.

“Guys c’mon I’m right here.” Taehyung complains, averting his eyes away from the scene, “Just because you live here now doesn’t mean I wanna see it every time I come over.”

Jungkook pulls away, facing his best friend with a smirk, “Sorry.”

Your phone vibrates inside your pocket, earning you to jump up from Kook’s lap much to his disappointment, “Hang on,” You hold up a single digit, “It’s my mum I’ll be right back.” You saunter out the room, closing the master bedroom door behind you.

“Hello?”

“Hi Y/N it’s just me…” Your mum’s voice is soft as she announces herself, despite the fact you knew full well it was her calling from her contact name and display picture.

“Everything okay?” You sit on the bed.

There’s a brief pause on the line, “It’s your sister…”

“Mum.” You cut her off sternly, she knows full well you want nothing to do with her after everything she’s done, “I told you I don’t want to know.”

“I know, I know,” Her voice is laced with guilt, “But she wanted me to pass on a message and I said that I would.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose vaguely irritated, “What’s the message?”

“She wants you to go and visit her.”

You bite back a scoff, “Why?”

“She wouldn’t say.”

“The answer is no.” You say with confidence, “I’m sorry mum, but I can’t. I don’t want her in my life after what she did. I’m not going.”

At this your mother sighs, you feel her pain of course you do, Ruth is her first born child and she will always love her no matter what she’s done and you don’t hate her for that. After all there’s nothing stronger than a maternal bond, “Okay, I’ll let her know... But since you’re not going to see her yourself there’s something you should know...”

“What?” You mumble, attempting to ignore the hurt in her voice.

“Ruth... She’s pregnant.” 

x