#and even then the whole '$$$ means good lawyers who can do anything' is... not entirely untrue but at least overblown

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eighteen

authors notes: two updates back to back! i felt a lil bad for leaving ya'll on a cliffhanger of sorts. granted, this one kinda does too but....not in a bad way. more of a plot twist, than anything.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst, fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns @romanreignsbae

24 hours.

It’s been 24 hours of absolute chaos and madness.

24 hours of a rush of conflicting and yet corresponding emotions. Anger. Confusion. Sadness.

In the past 24hrs, your love and basically life story have gone from being known to a select few to now being trending topics on every social media platform. Your Instagram, which was already private, had literally hundreds of follow requests the last time you checked it. There are emails in your inbox from several news platforms requesting interviews and offering exclusives. 

Hell, a couple of people even reached out to you on your LinkedIn.

It’s all so extremely overwhelming and chaotic, so much so that you had to force Alexis to leave and find some way to calm herself down. Her furious energy, while valid as hell, wasn’t helping. And it's not that you don't get it.

You do. God, you do.

You’d like nothing more than to take a steel chair to Mariah’s head, for you and Alexis to do a beatdown part two since the first one seemingly didn’t send a strong enough message.

But, you can’t. And she can’t either.

The whole world now has eyes on you, now is waiting to see what else comes out of this story that isn’t a story for you.

It’s your fucking life.

“We’re definitely looking into our options here, and there are some routes we can take, but without anything from her specifically saying she was going to do anything—”

“Wait.” It’s the first thing you’ve said in this emergency meeting with Joe and his legal team, a couple of intrigued eyes falling on you. “That’s—that’s not exactly true.”

Joe, as you expected, is the first to speak. “What are you talking about?”

This….this is the last conversation you expected to be having right now. The last thing you thought you’d be doing right now. You should be continuing to prepare for the move, decorating the house, planning how you’re going to tell Joe about your pregnancy.

Instead, you’re sitting in your new kitchen surrounded by lawyers, men in suits, and the man you love who you now have to admit to lying over something, at the time, you thought was nothing.

But that nothing has turned into a nightmare that has not only your personal life being used as media fodder but pictures of your sweet, beautiful, four-year-old daughter circulating the internet, just waiting to fall into the hands of the depraved.

That…..that’s what kills you the most.

It’s not even the “tell all” interview you only managed to watch for 10 minutes before having to turn it off. Even staring at her caked face, most likely to hide the lingering bruises from Alexis beating, makes you mad. Almost as mad at the absolute way she’s taken your and Joe’s story and dramatized it to the point of delusions.

Saying you plotted on Joe from the beginning. That you intentionally got pregnant by him. That you were sleeping with multiple men, meaning there’s a chance he could not be the father. That Joe’s ex-wife called and cussed you out, threatening to beat your ass. That you make Joe give you an allowance.

Just lies. Pure, unadulterated lies that make you sick to your stomach.

This whole thing feels like a never ending cycle of nightmares.

“Y/N?” One of the suits saying your name brings you back to this space, this place of here and now where another lie, one of your own making, is about to be revealed.

Licking your lips, you try to explain it as best you can, though there is no good way to come out and admit you weren’t honest with him. “She—she’d been sending me messages.”

“Messages?” Joe’s interruption is fair and expected, but one of his lawyers jumps in before he can continue. 

“Do you still have them?”

Nodding, you pull out your phone, opening Mariah’s thread. You’d blocked and deleted her contact from your phone so it’s just her number as the title for the thread. Reaching the phone to the lawyer, it’s quickly intercepted by Joe.

Just watching his eyes read over the messages, you can almost see his anger growing. He hands the phone over to his lawyer, and you watch as one exchanges the phone with the other.

“This is perfect,” one of the suits shares to the group. “We can definitely slap her with a couple different lawsuits with this evidence. I’m thinking extortion. Most definitely a cease and desist.”

“Defamation too,” someone else chimes. 

Joe isn’t interested in any of that at this moment. He just wants to speak with you alone, that much is painfully obvious. “Can you give us a minute?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just stands up from his seat, motioning for you to follow him.

Nervous about what’s about to ensue, you do so regardless, following him up the stairs and into the first room on the right. 

You start to plead your case as soon as the door is closed. “Joe—”

“You lied to me.”

His tone kills you. You haven’t been on the receiving end of this side of him in months, not since he first found out about Callie. “I—”

“I fucking asked you did she say anything, and you lied to me, Y/N!”

“I didn’t think anything of it, Joe.” You can’t and won’t necessarily defend the lying part, but you will attempt to help him understand your logic that was at play. “Mariah—she’d never done anything remotely close to any of this to make me think she would ever do something like this. I thought—I thought she was just saying shit to get a reaction out of me.”

He stops his pacing, looking at you with a sense of incredulity. “I didn’t ask you what kind of shit she was saying, I asked you if she said anything at all, and you stood there and you lied to me with a straight face!”

“I’m sorry, okay!” There’s a solid attempt to keep your volume down, well aware Callie is only a few rooms down playing, oblivious to all of this chaos unfolding. “But I was in a really bad place during that time, Joe, okay? I—I didn’t care about….lawyers and lawsuits, I just wanted custody of my child back.” Eyes starting to water, you shake your head, asking, “do you have any idea how hard that was for me?”

“Of course, I know, Y/N.” His tone is a little more calm, still angry though. “I was going through the same damn thing.”

“No, you weren’t!” As much as you want to control your emotions in this moment, control your temper, it’s hard when he’s clearly not trying to hear where you were coming from. “You got to see her! You got to speak to her! I didn’t! Mariah didn’t accuse you of awful shit, it was just me!”

“So you don’t think that shit impacted me at all?” His voice still carries anger, but there’s specks of hurt there. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to invalidate him, just wanted to help him see there was a difference. “Seeing you like that? Seeing Callie like that?”

Pressing your hands against your temple, you shut your eyes, explaining, “that’s not what I’m saying, Joe. You’re not listening to me.” 

“You’re right.” His agreement takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to be so self-aware. “I’m not listening cuz’ I’m fucking pissed off with you that this all could have been avoided if you had just been honest with me. Our daughter’s photos wouldn’t be all over the fucking internet if you had just told me the truth.”

It’s not hard for you to read between the lines of what he’s saying. But, it is hard for you to stomach what he’s saying. “You blame me for this, don’t you?” And it’s when he looks away, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. “You do….”

“I didn’t for the DCFS situation, because that was absolutely beyond your control. But this…..” He looks up at the ceiling, eyes closed, most likely trying to maintain composure. “I’m gonna go over to Jey and Kaylah’s place for a little bit. I just need to clear my head.”

Your throat constricts. Joe has never been the one to leave in the middle of an argument. He’s that one to always say we’re gonna stay here and figure this out together, so you don’t know what to make of him wanting to leave. 

“Joe, please….” Walking over to him, you place your hands on his chest, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t go, okay? We just—we need to work this out right now.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you too much to stay here and have this out with you right now, because there’s not many nice things I have to say.” 

There’s a shred of hope that fills you in the way he cups your cheek, staring at you for a minute before he turns to walk out of the door. But the hope is easily dashed at the fact that he still chooses to walk out the door. 

Sniffling, feeling the tears oncoming, you walk out after him only to see he’s already completely descended down the stairs, already out the house most likely. Standing there, you try to keep the tears at bay, try to keep your shit together.

“Mommy….”

“What, Callie!” The second it leaves your voice, the harshness, the volume, the cruelness, you want to melt into the ground. Callie, understandably, looks devastated at you snapping at her. And you feel it too. “Baby, I’m—I’m so sorry—”

She doesn’t give you a chance to grovel because she turns on the heel of her shoes and darts back into her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Your chest tightening, the tears starting to fall. It hits you so hard.

You really fucked up. 

—-------

“You ready to talk yet?”

Joe knew the second he walked into his cousin’s house, grabbed a beer out the fridge and plopped himself on the steps of their back porch that he didn’t come over here to vent. He just needed to get away, to clear and sort through his head so he didn’t end up saying anything worse than what he’s already said to Y/N.

And Kaylah recognized as such. Recognized something must have happened, which is why she allowed him his privacy for the time being.

“Not really,” he answers, finishing off his beer and tossing it to his side.

“Too bad,” Kaylah dismisses. It’s not a major surprise. “Cause I am.” Joe says nothing as she slides down on the step, sitting beside him. When he still says nothing, “what happened, Joe?”

Joe chuckles bitterly. “Check the news. Any of them.”

Kaylah frowns. “You know that’s not what I mean.” She’s very well aware of that part of this shitshow. “What happened with you and Y/N?”

“She lied to me, Kay.” Joe really doesn’t want to talk about this, but he knows he needs to. Knows he eventually has to go back home and face the music. “I had asked her if Mariah had said anything, not even anything bad, just anything in general. She told me no, but that wasn’t the truth, Mariah was sending all kinds of messages alluding to doing something if Y/N didn’t answer her…..now look at what’s happened.” 

Kaylah takes a second to digest what he’s saying. “When did you ask her?”

“When the whole DCFS situation happened. My lawyers were trying to see if we could build some type of case against Mariah.”

Kaylah is smart, always has been, so it’s not difficult for her to put the pieces together. “And you think if she had provided these messages, you could have done something to avoid this latest shitshow?” Joe doesn’t have to answer her question. She already knows his answer. “That’s a big if, Joe, and you know it.”

“Of course, I know it. It’s just…….fuck.” He shuts his eyes, head titled back. “It’s like shit just keeps happening.”

“It’s rough, I can imagine that, but it’s not just rough for you. Y/N is going through the same thing, and instead of sitting here in your misery, blaming her, you two should be handling it together.” Kaylah lifts her finger to silence him when he goes to either agree or protest. “I’m not saying she wasn’t wrong for not telling you the truth, but Joe, we both know that if she had even an inkling that Mariah would do something like this, she would have told you in a heartbeat.” Her voice softens. “She made a mistake.”

“And I know Mariah has put your business out there too now, and I don’t mean to make it seem like this doesn’t impact you as well, but Y/N is the one being dragged to filth on the internet right now. I sincerely hope she hasn’t read some of the stuff being said about her. It’s awful. Mariah lied about so many things and has made Y/N out to be this horrible person when she’s not.”

Joe thinks that’s the part that pisses him off the most, that made him so angry he unintentionally took that anger out on the person being affected the most in this situation. He watched the entire interview Mariah did, heard the way she took parts of the truth and piled a shit ton of lies on top. 

Heard how actually had the fucking audacity to drag Jadah into it, claiming she had texts and recorded phone calls between the two of them talking about how Y/N was a whore and broke up her marriage. All kind of just lies.

And he knows it’s not true, because he knows Jadah. Hell, he spoke to Jadah just this morning. 

It infuriated him even more to read some of the comments, people speaking so cruelly about the woman he loves. Even going as far to drag Callie into the cesspool of bullying. 

A man who doesn’t like not having control, it tears him up to not be able to do anything to dead the shit immediately. 

But…..there are some things he can do, and he can’t do them if he’s sitting here in his feelings.

Joe looks over at Kaylah, gently shoving into her side. “Thank you, Kay.”

“Anytime.” And she means it. Joe is like a brother to her. Always has been. “Now you’ve got twenty minutes to get your sorry ass off my porch and back to your house to take care of business. Cause I know you, Joe. You don’t play about your family. Let that bitch know she’s fucked with the wrong one.”

—-------

“Mama, I really messed up.”

Crying over the phone to your mom at your big age definitely wasn’t in your bingo card for 2024, yet here you are.

Granted, most of what’s happened this year wasn’t in your bingo card anyway, so it lines up.

“Oh, honey. You made a mistake, You’re human. It happens.” Your mom’s voice is soothing on the other side of the phone. “And don’t worry about Joseph. He’s just upset right now. He’ll calm down.”

“He’s right to be upset. I shouldn’t have lied to him.” Sniffling and wiping at your eyes, you bring your legs to your chest. “And look at what my mistake has caused mama. My baby’s face is all over the internet. Personal photos just material for people to make posts and tweets and TikTok’s about.”

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of how low Mariah has gotten in this whole situation. All of those snaps you shared with her of your daughter, precious moments you thought you were sharing with your best friend, she’d sold to whoever would buy them for 15 minutes of fame and a slice of short-lived relevancy.

“None of us knew that girl is as unhinged as she is. You’re not psychic, baby. You had no way of knowing this would happen, and Joseph knows that. He just let his pride get the best of him and took out his frustrations on you, which, make no mistake, is not right. And you definitely need to check him on that.” Your mom briefly switching gears brings a smile and small laugh to your face. “You know I didn’t raise you to take shit from no man, and that includes him.”

“I know….” And you will address it with him, even if deep down something tells you he already feels bad for how he spoke to you, knowing it was wrong. “I just—-I feel like we can’t catch a break. It sometimes makes me wonder if…..if I’m doing the right thing.” The past 24 hours have caused you to experience such a whirlwind of emotions, emotions you’re sure are exacerbated by a pregnancy no one knows about yet. “I would never stop Joe from being in Callie’s life, but if me being with him causes all this mess for him and her then….”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that.” Your mom’s interjection is fierce and sharp. “That boy loves you. He’d do anything for you and baby girl. Don’t let Mariah trick you into thinking that somehow you being happy with the man you love and father of your child is somehow wrong. Don’t let her win.”

Blowing out a breath, you try to heed to your mom’s guidance. She’s right. You know she’s right. Mariah being psychotic doesn’t change shit about your love for Joe, his love for you, the way he’d do anything for ya’ll and vice versa.

Mariah is just jealous. Dissolving what is otherwise a happy family would bring her nothing but great satisfaction. And over your dead body will you let that bitch get what she wants.

“You’re right.” Shaking your head, you try to counter all of your negative and anxious thoughts with more optimism and logic. “It’s just….it’s hard right now.”

“And it will be for a little while, but that’s when you lean on the people you love, and baby, you got no shortage of that.”

Sniffling, tears drying, you thank her, “thank you, mama.”

“Just let me know if you need me to fly down there.” And you know she will. Know Joe won’t hesitate to pay for a plane ticket for her to come stay with you.

And after you tell him about your pregnancy, you might do just that.

“I will,” you promise, telling her you’ll call or text her later to let her know how everything pans out before ending the call.

Stepping back into the kitchen and sliding the door closed, locking it, the last thing you expect to see is Joe standing in the kitchen.

Gasping, hand over your chest, your shoulders slump as you murmur, “you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s a layered statement, multiple meanings and several different applications. A knowledge that comes from being with and knowing this man for all these years. 

Walking over to him, you cross your arms over one another. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t give me an excuse to talk to you the way I did or to say the things I did.” And as strange a thought it may be to have in this moment, this is one of the many reasons you love the man before you. Joe is mature and man enough to both admit when he’s fucked up and is always intentional about making it right.

Swallowing, you advise, “this is just a really fucked up situation that neither of us really knows how to process.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. “But, we can handle it…together.”

He gently pulls you into his chest and your eyes shut as he holds you, apologizing into the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too.” you apologize, hand on his chest. “I know that situation was difficult for you too, and I shouldn’t have invalidated your feelings.”

“Neither of us was 100% right.” And he’s correct. He was wrong for lashing out the way he did, and you were wrong for not being honest and invalidating his experience. 

Neither of you could pull the ‘right’ card.

“Agreed.” You murmur, eyes softening as you switch topics a bit. “Callie….I accidentally snapped at her after you left.” The guilt still eats at you for that, for taking out your emotions on your sweet little girl. “I spoke with her and apologized, but….I think she heard us fighting.”

That really kills you. You don’t think it’s entirely unhealthy for kids to hear their parents go at it from time to time, but not at 4. And not for a sensitive child like Callie.

Joe looks equally upset at this, offering, “let me talk to her. If she heard us, she needs to know that me yelling at you wasn’t okay.”

There’s no disagreement nor protest as he heads up the stairs to find Callie.

Joe stands outside Callie’s door with a knock that’s followed by her head snapping up and smile brightening. “Daddy!” She rushes over to him, Joe leaning to pick her up, holding her. “You came back!”

Her words crush him, the idea that she could even think he could ever leave her, leave either of them.

“Of course, baby girl.” Joe moves to the only adult sized chair in her room, holding her on his lap, caressing her cheek. “Callie, I know you heard me and your mom arguing, but I need you to know that I will never leave you or mommy. Daddy was just….very upset, and I took it out on your mom which was wrong.”

In a soft voice, she asks, “did mommy do something bad?”

“No, she just….made a mistake, and that’s okay, because we all make mistakes, but it wasn’t okay for me to yell at her like that.” Joe decides to take this unfortunate occurrence and make it a learning lesson for his daughter. “You never let any lil’ boy yell at you or talk mean to you, you hear me?” Callie nods her head, as he adds. “And if he does, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.”

Callie turns up her nose. “Boys are gross.” She then adds, “cept' you, daddy.”

Joe laughs but quickly agrees. Let her think that as long as she wants. Forever, preferably. He tugs her a bit closer, holding her snug to him. “That’s right. All of em’. Every single one.” 

—-------

Given only a few rooms in the house are fully furnished, the three of you sleep and stay at Joe’s place at night given he doesn’t plan to sell it until you’re all completely moved in. Not feeling like cooking, or rather not feeling like helping Joe cook, you decide on takeout.

Subsequently, ya'll share dinner while watching Finding Nemo 2, the chosen movie of the night by Callie.

There’s extra measures on your end to make sure she’s really forgiven you, needing her to know that you’re truly apologetic, and of course, your inherently kind child shows absolutely no sign that she holds any type of grudge against you.

You couldn’t be any more grateful for her wonderfully big heart.

You handle getting her to bed, seeing that Joe is tired. It’s something you noticed the minute he arrived at the new house from the airport. He looks exhausted. How can he not be? Preparing for WrestleMania, training nonstop, finishing up his documentary, and now this?

A person can only take so much.

You’re actually happy he’ll have a week off post WrestleMania. He needs that. He needs time to just rest.

It doesn’t surprise you that he falls asleep in a matter of minutes, big body laid out over yours as you gently caress his naked back. His heavy shoulders lifting in alignment with his breathing is a soothing source you zone in on while scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Pinterest only. You can’t allow yourself to check out anything else.

That is until you receive a text from Alexis telling you to check Joe’s Instagram. 

For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the best of you.

Logging back into the app, you go straight to his profile, gasping when you see the latest post on the grid. 

It’s a photo of the three of you. One of the ones taken when you’d surprised him at his show back in February. He’s holding Callie who has her arms wrapped around his neck, smiling big at the camera with his other arm hooked around you, your body angled into him, hand on his chest.

It’s one of your favorite photos.

Your eyes drop to his lengthy caption.

@/RomanReigns: I’ve never been one to openly discuss my personal life because, quite frankly, it’s no one’s business. Unfortunately, I’m now forced to do so due to a clearly unwell and pathetic individual who has taken parts of the truth and padded it with lies. My girlfriend and I share one child together. This is my biological child. There’s never been a question of paternity. Her mother never coerced or blackmailed me into shit. Y/N has been villainized as a vindictive gold-digger and liar when that is absolutely bullshit. She is an amazing mother, friend, and partner whom I love fiercely and protectively. The same goes for my daughter. They are my world, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them. Having our daughter’s photos and personal videos posted all over the internet has been equally heartbreaking as it is infuriating for the both of us. Legal action is currently being pursued for all involved in the doxing and sharing of personal media of my family as well as other atrocities that have taken place behind the scenes you all don’t even know about. All of this is entirely unacceptable and will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. And to everyone who has so much to say about a situation you know nothing about outside of the lies circulating, remember these are real people with real feelings.

But most importantly, keep my girlfriend and daughter’s name out of your fucking mouths.

~Joe

Tears are starting to burn your eyes as you stare down at the man sleeping on top of you. The man who never ceases to amaze you with how far he’ll go to show you just how much he loves and cares about you.

He didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to go against his preference to keep his personal life off the internet. But, he did. He did it to send a message to everyone.

To send a message to Mariah.

You press a gentle kiss against the top of his head, knowing doing so won’t disturb his sleep.

And though against your better judgment, decide to read a few comments, knowing it’s bound to be a batch of mixed reactions. 

@/User1: Damn, Roman said keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth! Watch Will Smith join the match at WrestleMania.

@/User2: Used to be a big fan, but I could never support a cheater. Unfollowing.

@/User3: How many of you actually watched the interview with the “friend”? It’s obvious she’s lying about a lot of things she said, because most of it wasn’t adding up.

@/User4: My thing is why did you hide this kid and girlfriend you supposedly “love” so much? Feels like you got exposed and now you’re trying to save face.

@/User5: This is all so messy and shameful. He definitely needs to lose his title at WM. What a joke and embarrassment to the WWE.

@/User6: It’s funny how so many of you are ignoring the fact that he signed this with his real name. “Roman” is a real person clearly going through heavy shit right now. Who cares about a fucking title?

@/User7: How about you learn to “acknowledge” the truth, Mr. “tribal chief”?

@/UceyJucey: Man, this family right here. We go you, Y/N and Big Dog. For life!

@/BigLexPurr: Ya’ll gon see JOE don’t play about HIS!

@/JonathanFatu: FOE 

@/RomanReigns has turned off comments for this post. 

The comments are to be expected, though it warms you to see familiar names coming to your defense, seeing that while there may be a lot of hatred being spewed your way, there’s still an abundance of love and support that encompasses you.

But, it’s when you come across a reference to the Bloodline that an idea hits you, smashes into you so strongly that you have to wake Joe to get the ball rolling.

“Baby.” He’s knocked out, so it takes a couple of shakes and slaps to finally get him to stir. “Joe!”

Finally, he stirs, sighing loudly as he groans, “fine, you getting on top though.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove his shoulder. “Not that. Can I use one of your cars tomorrow morning? And I need you to stay and watch Callie for a bit.”

At this, he opens his eyes, looking you over with confusion. “Where you going?”

“It’s a surprise. Just….trust me, okay?” Leaning to kiss his cheek, you throw out a quick ‘thank you’ and turn back on your side. Only to squeal quietly when his big hands move you onto your back. One look at him, and you know what he wants. “Joe, it’s like 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“Should have thought about that before you woke me up….” His mouth is on your neck, right hand moving under his shirt that hides your nude body, gripping your breast. “Let me just taste you….”

There’s a strong desire and almost responsibility you feel to press your legs together and direct him to go back to sleep, but raging, most likely pregnancy fueled hormones, along with the fact that you want to enjoy this for as long as you can before pregnancy body stops all sexual acts, are just too damn strong.

So you simply chew on your bottom lip, watching his dark silky head disappear under the covers and enjoy the toe curling ride of fantasy that is his skilled tongue on you.

—-------

You’re out of the house by 7am sharp, the sun still making its way to introduce the new day, but that doesn't matter. 

You’re a woman on a mission, a mission that has a ticking deadline. Joe has to fly back out tomorrow, so you can’t waste one precious moment.

Target has almost everything you need, sans a couple of items that you pick up at Walmart. 

And Alexis, who finally calmed down enough after getting drunk as hell and hooking up with some random she met on the boardwalk, agreed to keep Callie for you for a little bit. It’s a double win, because Callie always has a good time with Alexis, and Alexis can’t catch a murder charge if she’s on babysitting duty.

Of course, Joe being Joe, has a million and one questions. Understandably so.

“Can you at least tell me why you had Alexis come get Callie?” And before you can give him the vaguest answer, he adds on, “or what the hell is in those boxes?”

His question comes from behind as you carry said cake boxes up the steps, reaching the top and offering him a teasing glare. “And you always say I suck at surprises.”

“I’m too old for surprises, baby.”

Baby…..

God, you can’t wait to see his reaction.

“Patience, lover. Patience.” You then gesture with your chin to the first door with a sticky note on it. “Open that one.”

Joe looks taken back, reading the post-it. “Option 1? Option 1 for what?”

This man….. “I see where Callie gets her questioning nature from. Boy, just open the damn door.” 

He rolls his eyes, walking in and looking around. “There’s literally nothing in this room.”

“Yet,” you correct, encouraging him. “Just….be mindful of the layout and what it could be.”

“It can’t be anything considering it’s empty as hell.”

“Joe, I swear to—” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s look at the other ones.”

And you have him do just that, viewing two more rooms that he doesn’t realize you’ve shortlisted as potential nurseries. He makes his smartass comments, of course, but you also know it’s in jest and he really just wants to know what’s going on. 

So, it’s when you finish and bring him back to the kitchen, directing him to sit on the barstool as you lay out the two boxes in front of him. “You gon tell me why you had me look at empty rooms while you carried boxes?”

“Stop being difficult.” Slapping him on the shoulder, your nerves begin to set in as you motion to the counter. “Pick one to open. Only one.”

Joe’s curious gaze is on you, humor dropping a bit as he asks, in all seriousness. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Just…..trust me.” It’s a simple but powerful thing to say given the past couple days. You know he does and know he will. “Pick one.”

Waiting for him to carefully pull the tape off to open the box, you time it perfectly so at the same time he’s lifting the lid, you murmur, “I think it’s a boy too…..”

Joe’s gaze snaps to yours at your statement but also refers back to the now open box. “Y/N….what is this?”

Eyes starting to water, you manage to tease him, “don’t tell me the Tribal Chief suddenly doesn’t know how to read.”

There’s a close and careful watch you have on Joe as his eyes go from left to right, clearly reading the words you have beautifully decorated on the inside of the cake box that’s filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies dyed blue with food coloring.

The other box is filled with chocolate chip cookies dyed pink.

Same message located on the lid of the box.

BREAKING NEWS: 

New Bloodline Member Coming Soon. Ready to acknowledge daddy in September, 2024.

He does that one, two, three times before slowly looking back up at you, a level of emotion in his gaze and eyes you’re not sure you’ve ever seen. 

His voice is so low, so imbued with vulnerability that you almost have to ask him to repeat himself. “You serious?”

Shaking your head, you reach out, pushing back some of his hair. “I wouldn't lie to you about this, Leati…….” Taking his hand and placing it on your stomach, you layer your own on top of his. “I’m pregnant…..we’re having another baby.” Sniffling, tears finally starting to spill, you add, “and no one knows but you and me. Not my mom. Not Alexis. Not Callie. Just you and me.” Licking your lips, you acknowledge. “I didn’t do it right the first time, but I’m gonna do everything right this time.”

Joe not saying anything initially makes you second guess yourself. Were you wrong to assume that he would be happy? Given everything that’s happened, has it changed his views on things? You thought that he would be thrilled at the idea of expanding your family, but what if you were wrong?

It’s only seconds later though that he shoots up from the chair, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you maybe tighter than what’s necessary.

All concern is washed away, a happy giggle leaving your mouth as he spins you around. 

Back on the ground, his hands on your face. “I love you.” His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheek. You swear his eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. “I love you with everything in me.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, choked up and moved by his reaction. He's thrilled. “And I know things are a mess right now, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to tell you while you’re in town.”

Everything is certainly not the way it should be, but for him to be here, to be with you, and for you to not tell him felt so wrong. You didn't want to make him wait any longer than he needed to.

“September…..” You can see he’s doing the math in his head, hand dropping to your stomach. “You’re three months?”

“Just about. End of March will mark officially three months, but I just found out at the OB-GYN appointment I had. I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to do it in person, because you deserve as much.” You find yourself rambling, probably over-explaining, but the last thing you want is for him to think you’ve been keeping this from him. “It’s up to you, but I do think we should tell Callie first.”

You've thought about it, and to some extent, you have some concern about how she’ll respond. She’s been an only child her whole life, obviously. And she already doesn’t like ‘sharing’ Joe with you sometimes, how will she respond to a brother or sister?

Joe must be reading your mind as he kisses your forehead. “We’ll figure it out.” Another realization also crosses his mind as he connects more dots. “The rooms…..you think one of them could be the nursery.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you tease him. “Well, it took you long enough to put two and two together.” Yelping, you laugh when Joe squeezes your hip and picks you up, bridal style. “Joe!”

“Let’s go look again,” he implores, and you know it’s because he wants to go again because now he knows this will be the room where your baby will stay in, the room where you’ll nurse him or her, where he’ll finally be able to enjoy being a father from conception to birth. 

It makes this moment even better.

But, you need something else.

You call for him to wait, pointing to the box of cookies. “What?” You ask after he moves close enough for you to grab them. Rubbing your belly, you remind him with all the pride in the world, “mama’s eating for two now.”

—-------

The day is perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

It’s a day where you can temporarily forget all of the bullshit in your life that doesn’t matter in these moments where it’s just the three of you.

Well, four, technically. 

The day is spent shopping, of all things, Joe refusing to leave without you finally getting a bedroom set. The one, ironically, that Alexis pointed out the other day. It really does look like the both of you.

He also might have made a sly comment regarding making good use of the mirror.....

On top of that, you start to casually peruse nursery furniture, nothing too obvious to where Callie can tell. You and Joe haven’t settled on when or how to tell her, but you’re leaning more toward after WrestleMania. He’ll be off that week, so it gives you both time to tackle any big emotions that might come up.

And Joe….

It deeply endears you to notice the little things. He’s always been touchy feely, but his hand seemed to find a space on or near your stomach all day. Gentle kisses pressed against your temple and more “I love you’s” than usual. You know it’s all because he’s wholly and fully happy. This pregnancy means more to him than you could probably ever comprehend.

And being able to make him so happy when he’s made you happier means everything to you.

Even laying in bed together, enjoying your time with each other before he has to leave early in the morning, his big hand is splayed protectively across your stomach. You appreciate all of these moments, know that the next almost six months of your pregnancy will be filled with them.

Even with some dread at trying to navigate this pregnancy with Joe’s crazy work schedule, you’re more happy than anything. Ecstatic that you get to experience this pregnancy with him this time around.

Together. 

Sleep is finally about to overcome you when your phone dings on your nightstand. Tempted to leave it, it’s hard to do so when it vibrates several different times.

Not knowing if it could be something serious or requiring immediate attention, you reach over, unlocking to see you have five texts from an unknown number.

But, the sender is no longer unknown the moment you open the thread.

Unknown: Hi, Y/N. This is Jadah. 

This…..this has to be a joke, has to be some kind of cruel prank that’s all a part of Mariah’s apparent master plan to ruin your life.

Because there’s no way in hell Joe’s ex-wife is texting you. No way in hell. 

But before you can block the number, chalking it up as a cruel prank, you see she’s sent a screenshot of a conversation between her and Joe. Zooming in, you see it’s from around October with them discussing the details of the divorce.

Holy…..shit.

It is her.

Jadah: Just so you know it’s really me…..

And if you weren’t already about to drop your damn phone onto Joe’s head at the fact that thee fucking Jadah is actually texting you right now, her next set of messages nearly send you into cardiac arrest.

Jadah: Super strange/inconvenient way for me to reach out, but given everything that’s going on, I think it’s time we met and talked face to face.

Jadah: Even more, since this hoe got so much to say about OUR lives, I also think it’s time we take back the narrative and pull an Uno reverse card.

Jadah: How do you feel about going on IG Live together?

[kalims]

the day we met.

and to think i promised i wouldn't fall in love.

characters. dorm leaders

cw. not proofread

note. just some random hcs.. I wonder who can recognize what post this resembles hehe.. AKA title

pls read malleus' part mwahahaha I like it

riddle rosehearts keeps you on your toes (quite literally.) if it weren't for him you're sure you would have fallen off the horse that seems awfully intent on driving you off it's back to a face full of mud. clearly he was lying when he said 'beverly' was a fairly nice horse... she's literally the living spawn of a demon! but you can say that she counts for a pretty great wing.. horsewoman? how else would you get the esteemed riddle to handle you so delicately?

leona oddly resembles a cat... (technically he is one.) but he really likes to nap, you're sure his daily schedule involves sleeping, eating, looking dead every time of the day he's awake then going back to sleep—let's not forget the favorite thing cats love to either knead with their paws or lay on! in this case it's you. at some point you had to tip toe and keep quiet everywhere so he doesn't hear, and promptly snatch you for the rest of the day.

the bounds azul would go for you is a little concerning but you're there for them all the well. as far as you knew on campus he was banned from making contracts but the cheeky little octopus had simply smirked when he casually says that the headmaster never said out of campus.. if he isn't there then how would he know? he just has to lure out whoever was the one that was stupid enough to bother you out of campus, hm... this is a job for the eels, no?

to be honest. forget about azul, kalim would do anything for your expense. it doesn't matter if you ask directly or not, just an implication is enough to trigger his impulsive decisions. seriously though, jamil is begging you to be considerate of what you say around kalim. you don't want him actually purchasing a whole country if you accidentally imply you want to rule one. again, be careful or you'll be smothered by his love, and deep gold pockets.

vil has a tendency to stare. believe it or not, even though it might seem like it would be the other way around you do catch his gaze sometimes but he always ends up trying to play it off. maybe he's sick or something? was there something on your face? (vil: yeah perfection) you find out not to point it out though, last time you did you got ignored with a huff. more so when you catch sight of a furious blush you almost mistook as too much of the makeup product. (no such person like vil wouldn't notice how red his cheeks would be if it was that case.)

besides the unintentional spoiling from kalim (who genuinely just thinks you deserve it all as a form of his love and affection.) idia is by no means poor. how else could he afford all the latest parts for his technology? let alone whale on the games he likes to play. this man spoils you intentionally. if he knows you want a character, weapon, or certain item he's getting his hands on it and giving it all to you. a collector's item? easy. it doesn't matter if the price is too high on the bar, nothing would ever compare to you anyways.

malleus is on your side, always. it doesn't matter if you're actually wrong about something, he's siding with you and defending you with his life 💀 you burned down a building knowing full well that the fire is a big possibility? everyone makes mistakes though... according to malleus draconia everybody. one of the strongest person in twisted wonderland is either the next 100% win rate lawyer or some random person making third grade defenses. there's no in between. that or he's making the dumbest excuse and actually making good points right after.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to screw up a whistleblower law

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THIS WEDNESDAY (Apr 17) in CHICAGO, then Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Corporate crime is notoriously underpoliced and underprosecuted. Mostly, that's because we just choose not to do anything about it. American corporations commit crimes at 20X the rate of real humans, and their crimes are far worse than any crime committed by a human, but they are almost never prosecuted:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/12/no-criminals-no-crimes/#get-out-of-jail-free-card

We can't even bear to utter the words "corporate crime": instead, we deploy a whole raft of euphemisms like "risk and compliance," and that ole fave, the trusty "white-collar crime":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

The Biden DOJ promised it would be different, and they weren't kidding. The DOJ's antitrust division is kicking ass, doing more than the division has done in generations, really swinging for the fences:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Main Justice – the rest of the DOJ – promised that it would do the same. Deputy AG Lisa Monaco promised an end to those bullshit "deferred prosecution agreements" that let corporate America literally get away with murder. She promised to prosecute companies and individual executives. She promised a lot:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Was she serious? Well, it's not looking good. Monaco's number two gnuy, Benjamin Mizer, has a storied career – working for giant corporations, getting them off the hook when they commit eye-watering crimes:

https://prospect.org/justice/2024-04-09-reform-groups-lack-of-corporate-prosecutions-doj/

Biden's DOJ is arguably more tolerant of corporate crime than even Trump's Main Justice. In 2021, the DOJ brought just 90 cases – the worst year in a quarter-century. 2022's number was 99, and 2023 saw 119. Trump's DOJ did better than any of those numbers in two out of four years. And back in 2000, Justice was bringing more than 300 corporate criminal prosecutions.

Deputy AG Monaco just announced a new whistleblower bounty program: cash money for ratting out your crooked asshole co-worker or boss. Whistleblower bounties are among the most effective and cheapest way to bring criminal prosecutions against corporations. If you're a terrified underling who can't afford to lose your job after narcing out your boss, the bounty can outweigh the risk of industry-wide blacklisting. And if you're a crooked co-conspirator thinking about turning rat on your fellow criminal, the bounty can tempt you into solving the Prisoner's Dilemma in a way that sees the crime prosecuted.

So a new whistleblower bounty program is good. We like 'em. What's not to like?

Sorry, folks, I've got some bad news:

https://www.corporatecrimereporter.com/news/200/stephen-kohn-on-the-justice-department-plan-to-offer-whistleblower-awards/

As the whistleblower lawyer Stephen Kohn points out to Russell Mokhiber of Corporate Crime Reporter, Monaco's whistleblower bounty program has a glaring defect: it excludes "individuals who were involved with the crime." That means that the long-suffering secretary who printed the boss's crime memo and put it in the mail is shit out of luck – as is the CFO who's finally had enough of the CEO's dirty poker.

This is not how other whistleblower reward programs work: the SEC and CFTC whistleblower programs do not exclude people involved with the crime, and for good reason. They want to catch kingpins, not footsoldiers – and the best way to do that is to reward the whistleblower who turns on the boss.

This isn't a new idea! It's in the venerable False Claims Act, an act that signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln. As Kohn says, making "accomplices" eligible to participate in whistleblower rewards is how you get people like his client, who relayed a bribe on behalf of his boss, to come forward. As Lincoln said in 1863, the purpose of a whistleblower law is to entice conspirators to turn on one another. Like Honest Abe said, "it takes a rogue to catch a rogue."

And – as Kohn says – we've designed these programs so that masterminds can't throw their minor lickspittles under the buss and collect a reward: "I know of no case where the person who planned or initiated the fraud under any of the reward laws ever got a dime."

Kohn points out that under Monaco, the DOJ just ignores the rule that afford anonymity to whistleblowers. That's a big omission – the SEC got 18,000 confidential claims in 2023. Those are claims that the DOJ can't afford to miss, given their abysmal, sub-Trump track record on corporate crime prosecutions.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/15/whistleblown/#lisa-monaco

[dtmsrpfcringe]

We don't hate women. We hate women who are abusive towards their partners.

Michael and David both deserve better and just because you want to buy into what PR and social media tells you, you don't have to attack other people for being upset over actors they care about possibly not being happy.

David wouldn't leave Georgia, they are married and have children, so he feels responsible. He always puts other people before himself. And Anna played it well with the babies, as harsh as it sounds. Michael would feel terrible leaving the girls. People staying in relationships doesn't prove you right, sadly. It's no sign of anything other than commitment and commitment doesn't always come from a place of love.

By saying that Michael and David shippers want to see them unhappy in their relationship, you show that you're missing the point. The whole point of shipping them is wanting them to be happy. You just want to be hateful towards people who don't suppprt your narrative, it seems.

GOD I WISH TUMBLR WOULD LET ME ADD TEXTS BEFORE ASKS SO I COULD SAY “Warning: you’re about to hear one of the most moronic takes I have ever heard” *insert gif of amanojaku from ghost stories here* okay let’s…we have to break this down it’s too much for me to just laugh at and go “wow this is dumb as hell”

“We don’t hate women, we just make up stuff so we can justify hating them”- you. where’s…where’s any shred of proof that either women are even a little bit abusive? I mean don’t you think we would have seen some of that by now? And no, enty lawyer doesn’t count as proof and neither does random screenshots of a bit of text with zero context. Also neither do jokes online with your partner when they’re okay with it (and make the same jokes quite literally all the time) and nobody sees a problem with it except the people that conveniently hate these women.

2. “Michael and David both deserve better” yes I’m sure the rich white middle aged men who are two of the most popular actors in their countries who have girlfriends/wives and kids who love and adore them are surely hurting because some weirdo on tumblr says it.

3. Hate to tell you this but married people with children divorce all the time. It’s not like if they divorce he is going to suddenly vanish in a puff of smoke babe.

4. Even if that’s true, your theory of him only staying out of responsibility is bullshit. Someone who stays for the kids isn’t going to dip their wife into a kiss on the red carpet and look at her like a hozier song sounds. If there’s any event or interview where he can find a way to praise Georgia, he does it. He always talks about her. After events they’ve been seen kissing deeply and walking arm in arm honeymoon style.

5. as for Anna and Michael, (David and Georgia too but they seem more open to pda) they don’t owe you pda. Michael has been more than adamant about defending his girlfriend on twitter and good for him about it.

6. if you guys were genuinely concerned with Michael and David’s impending relationship crashes, why is it always tied to their love for one another? The only people who see This rampant “abuse and unhappiness” is this group of people who believe David and Michael are actually in love and want to elope together. Nobody else. Not even other Sheenant shippers. You guys literally just hate them, I mean Invisibleicewands has been talking shit on Anna since she posted her first photo with Michael back in 2019 and hasn’t stopped.

7. “And Anna played it well with the babies, as harsh as it sounds.” seriously what the absolute crap is this supposed to mean my dude? I’ve gotta be honest….you know how smex works right? Michael could absolutely choose to use protection!!! Why is it on her? Not on him. He’s had kids before I think he knows that a stork doesn’t bring the baby. Holy hell you people make my eyes hurt

8. (finally) funny you should bring up narratives, you know considering you’re part of the group that thinks any affection towards anybody else that isn’t them is PR (thinking of the Joseph Fiennes hug fiasco) that lied about Georgia and Anna being abusive, that has tried time and time again and moved the goalpost, that fabricates evidence and tries to send death threats to people who speak out, and then lie about it, that your group is the one who can’t handle women working together and have to call everything PR. The same group that ignores the fact that Anna and Georgia are friends, to talk grave shit on them. Newsflash sweetheart, we aren’t the ones pushing the narrative here. You only want to see David and Michael happy as long as it aligns with your delusion. Have the day you deserve.

anyways, I think this is going to be my pinned post. Mostly because I want this to be embarrassing if you ever try to come back here and lie on Betty whites internet again, but also because I think this addresses so many tin hat talking points at once. Just because we love aziraphale and crowley doesn't mean we get the right to insert ourselves into their personal lives, you wouldn't want someone else praying for your relationship to fail.

[its-all-stardust]

Hey, so first of all, I love your work, it's absoluteley amazing!!!

I saw that your requests are open, so I thought that I would ask for a Matt Murdock x reader oneshot? You know, just something cute and fluffy?

Maybe I'm gonna sound a bit stereotypical but how about a reader that owns a bakery and wants to try out a new recipe. Matt tries to sneak a taste from time to time while "helping out" (honestly, he's just teasing and making reader's job probably harder [affectionaly]). Just domestic fluff? Maybe please?

You don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought I'd give it a try :)

Thank you!! I'm glad you like my writing!! 🫂

I'm worried with this one that I tweaked things just enough that it's not exactly what you wanted anon, but I did my best and wrote what inspiration gave me!! I'll be honest, it could be fluffier, but I'm also not offended by my own writing so that's something lol I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️

Check out this post for request guidelines

Masterlist

Matt Murdock/GN!Reader

Word Count: 964

Was turning your residential apartment into a glorified bakery after you moved in with your boyfriend legal? According to Matt, a very good lawyer, it wasn’t technically illegal, so you did it anyway and prayed your landlord never found out.

It wasn’t really a bakery, not in the traditional sense. You didn’t try making it into a storefront, nor did you want it to be one. You did, however, take specialty orders through your website. You mainly baked for small events or private parties. You weren’t touching a wedding with a ten-foot pole unless you made the cake or just one of the cookies for the snack table.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills on its own—you still had a full-time job—but you enjoyed it, and the small amount of extra income it generated was nice.

Matt enjoyed it, too. So much so that you often joked he had ulterior motives for dating you.

But even though baking was a passion, it still came with challenges.

You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against your elbows, bent over the counter, and buried your face in your hands. 

This is the worst part about baking, you thought.

“Do you need help?” Matt asked, hand suddenly on your shoulder. You jumped, letting out a small gasp. “Sorry. I tried calling a couple of times.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, turning to wrap your arms around his middle, leaning into him, and pressing your face against his neck. “I just hate this.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “It can’t be so bad. You say that about every new thing you try.”

“But I really mean it this time!” you whined, though you actually didn’t.

You strived for perfection, but new recipes were always daunting. Either the first few batches didn’t meet your standards, or the very first one did, but the subsequent batches often failed. You thought once or twice about not adding anything new to your menu, but you needed to keep a refreshed list, or else you risked losing repeat customers—the ones who made this business possible for you in the first place.

“We can do it together,” Matt offered, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Will that make it better?”

You considered it for a moment. Matt’s taste was impeccable. You often used him—and Foggy and Karen—as guinea pigs, and he was always able to offer you the best advice. In another life, he would have been a fantastic chef. You’ve never baked anything with him before, only handed him the finished product.

If he helped you now, as you were putting everything together, it could make the whole try, try again process you had going significantly shorter, if not bypassed completely.

“Yes, actually. I think it will,” you answered, lifting your head up. 

The only problem: Matt was a complete and utter nuisance.

He wouldn’t do what you told him, at times completely forgoing your instructions—the one you found in an old cookbook that wasn’t like anything you found online—and adding either the incorrect amount of something or adding something that wasn’t even on the list of ingredients.

No matter how many times you told him baking was an exact science and the time for experimentation was after you followed the recipe to a T and tasted the finished product, he refused to listen. You thought he did, at first, but then you caught him tossing in almond extract behind your back, and things only went downhill from there.

“Would you please stop sticking your fingers in the bowl?” you practically begged after you caught him helping himself to the cookie batter for the fourth time.

“How else am I supposed to taste it?” he asked with a playful smirk. He seemed to enjoy the fact he was making you want to pull your hair out.

“With the spoon I specifically set out for that purpose!” You picked it up and thrust it at him. He ignored it and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“But I’m blind. How am I supposed to know where it is?” 

You raised an eyebrow, not fooled. “The same way you find the bowl even after I move it.”

Matt shrugged. “Fair point. But if I used the spoon, I couldn’t do this.” He stuck his finger in the bowl again.

“Matthew, I swear to—”

He stuck his finger in your mouth, not far but enough for the batter to touch your tongue, before he pulled away.

“—God,” you couldn’t help but finish as the first notes of the batter processed. Brow furrowed, you focused on the taste, brushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to make it last while you sorted out the different flavors. It was…

“That’s amazing,” you said, stunned. “What did you put in there?” You pulled the bowl toward you, forgetting the spoon in your hand as you dipped in a finger from the other. It wasn’t what you were trying to make at all, and you needed another sample.

“I tried telling you it just needed a few extra ingredients.” Before you could stick your finger in your mouth, Matt took your hand, wrapping his lips around your batter-covered finger. His tongue lapped gently against the pad, almost teasing. “Now it’s perfect,” he said when he pulled away.

“I think I need you in the kitchen more often,” you said, wheels already turning in your mind.

Matt beamed at you and tried leaning in for a kiss. You, however, didn’t notice and stepped away to find your phone, leaving him confused.

You opened your notes app and said, “Quick, tell me what you did before you forget.”

Matt could only shake his head in amusement before he dutifully listed everything he had snuck into the batter.

[wandussyfantasy]

Free Use (WandaNat)

Summary: After the events of Feeling Twenty-Two, Wanda invites you to stay with her and Natasha as long as you please. With the condition that they can have you whenever they want.

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

bottom fem reader, g!p Wanda, g!p Nat, oral, threesome, legal age gap, praising, degrading, creampie, and freeuse

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“I just don't understand why you won't tell us where you're moving to?” Kate gripes as she moves a box of your things into the moving truck. Wanda was happy to pay for it and even offered to hire movers but you didn't want to explain something you couldn't afford to your friends. After your trip to your home town, you returned to start a new semester at school. But you couldn't stop thinking about the women who made your twenty second birthday the most memorable birthday ever. They even took care of you the next morning and you never wanted to leave but you told them you had a flight a couple days from then that you couldn't miss. They understood and Wanda made you an offer that she allowed you to think about. She didn't want an immediate answer. She wanted you to think about it.

Which you did, every moment of every day. It was an unusual offer. But it was also a very beneficial one. It took her until the end of her summer break to feel confident in an answer. She had gone on several bad dates within that time and no one caught her eye enough to have a one night stand with. But she had plenty of nights by herself, masterbating to the memories of that night. 

“Kate, will you please drop it? I’ll come visit when I can. Besides, we have a few classes together. It's not the end of the world,” you say to comfort your friend. When you finally called Wanda and agreed, she invited you to her office. She is a lawyer, so she had a few legal documents of the arrangement drawn up. There is a discretion clause, meaning that you couldn't just parade around that you agreed to be a sex object for the couple. She said that you are allowed to have outside relationships and even have friends over at the house. But until you could figure out a way to explain your situation without explaining it, you didn't want your friends and family to know anything.

“Alright, I guess I can't say anything to make you stay,” Kate throws her hands up in defeat. “Just know, it's your fault if I end up in prison.”

You laugh at the thought of her blaming you for her actions. “How would that be my fault?”

Kate shrugs, “You keep me from doing stupid stuff. Now I can do all of the stupid stuff I want.”

You shake your head, “I’m sure your new girlfriend will supervise you.”

“Yelena will be in the cell with me, excuse you,” she pretends to be offended. 

The two of you share a laugh. You look around to see that everything you own is inside of the moving truck. “I’ll see you in class next week,” you pull your now former roommate into a tight hug. 

“I’m not going to see you for a whole week!” she is upset by the idea, but you couldn't promise any sooner. Not when it's your first week on the job. 

Live-in Nanny, is your official title. They don't have kids or even pets for that matter. But it looks good on paper for when you have to get a job after graduation and employers won't ask too many questions. “You’ll be fine without me for a week,” you say as you shut and lock the truck. 

You pull Kate into a quick hug before getting into the cab of the vehicle. You are anxious to get to Wanda and Natasha’s. Wanda had messaged you that they have a special welcome home celebration planned. You wanted to be there several hours ago. 

Arriving at the mansion again, your pussy gets wet at the first memories made here. The night of fucking and the morning of aftercare. Oh how excited you are to be back here. Once you park the vehicle, a moving team is ready to unpack the truck. You climb out and look at Wanda and Natasha with confusion written all over your face. “As excited as we are for you to move in, we aren’t going to waste time with that,” Natasha explains. 

“It’s not a waste of time,” Wanda corrects her wife. “We would have been happy to help you move in,” Wanda guides you into the house with an arm around you. “We just thought it was to preserve our energy for… other things.” You shift as you think about what the energy will be spent. 

“The little whore wants to ride our dicks while the movers work,” Natasha says to her wife in a low tone. Wanda shakes her head.

“Well, she will have to wait. I made a special dinner.” Wanda surprises you with a kiss on your neck. “But don't worry, babe, we'll have fun as soon as your stuff is moved in and the audience is gone,” she promises. 

“Of course, uh, what are we having?” Walking into the dining room, your question is answered without either having to say a word. Displayed among an extravagant dining table is a full spread of delicious looking food. “You really didn't have to,” you say to Wanda. 

“We know,” Natasha says as she pulls a chair out for herself. “But that's what makes Wanda so amazing,” she blows a kiss to her wife. She blushes and you love the way the couple interacts with each other. Wanda informed you that they've been together for close to eleven years but only married for four years. You asked her why they wanted to include you if they were happy with each other. Wanda told you that they have always wanted to have a more polyamorous relationship. But never could find someone that worked for both of them. Sure, there were people that were okay with being with a married person. But there weren't many that were okay with being with both Wanda and Natasha. You are the first. 

The meal is fun and easy. You were worried that although there is a great sexual chemistry, there might not be any other connection. But, those fears fade as the three of you engage in conversation for hours without an awkward silence. The food was amazing and you made sure to compliment Wanda. She flushed and asked you to stop raving, “You can thank me later,” she continued suggestively.

“I most definitely will,” you say as you imagine what you're going to do with her once you can. 

The three of you move to the living area to watch a movie. They insist that you sit in the middle and snuggle up to you shortly after the film starts. Halfway through the movie, the manager of the moving crew informs you all that they are finished. Wanda gets up to pay the man and his team. She leads him away and once the front door shuts, Natasha nudges you onto her lap. You comply out of curiosity and feel her erection at your entrance. She tries to pull down your yoga pants but finds it difficult to do so. Annoyed, Natasha rips the pants open so that your ass and pussy are exposed. She roughly massages your ass as you continue to watch the movie while getting increasingly aroused. 

Then, Natasha unzips her jeans and pulls herself out. She rubs her cock along your entrance, getting it covered in your juices. “Of course, you're ready for me,” she slips inside and you let out a low moan. Natasha bounces you on her cock. “Oh I hate this part of the movie,” she says. 

“Yeah, it's, it's, it's not my favorite,” you respond. When Wanda returns, she has a bowl of popcorn and she sits comfortably next to you and Natasha. You get turned on even more as they go about things as normal while Natasha is fucking you. When you had signed the contract and agreed to the FreeUse clause, you had no idea just how much you were going to enjoy it. 

Natasha cums inside of you and plops you back onto the sofa. She tucks her softening cock away and they pick the next movie. Wanda takes your hand and places it over her bulge. You hungrily release her penis from the tightening pants and put it in your mouth. You love the taste of her cock, especially her cum which you are working hard to earn. Already on your first day, you have cum dripping from your pussy and cum in your mouth. You are going to love it here.

A few weeks later, you are laying on your bed as you study for an exam when Wanda enters the room. Her cock is standing out of her pants and she climbs onto the bed, hovering over your body from behind. She enters you without warning and you gasp. “Hey Wanda,” you greet as she slowly humps into you. 

“Hey darling,” she kisses your neck. “What are you working on?” 

“I have an exam at the end of the week, just getting some studying out of the way,” you say. Wanda reaches around your body to play with your clitoris, causing you to clench around her thick cock. 

“That’s great, I love how studious you are.” Wanda praises. “You’re going to make a great business woman one day.”

“Thank you, baby. That means a lot coming from you. Oooh,” Wanda picks up her pace a little bit and you start to lose focus on your notes. She rubs your clit harder and harder until your body is spasming around her cock, milking her cum out of her. 

Wanda doesn't leave before eating out the mess from your pussy, giving you another organism. She kisses you and wishes you luck with your studying. You thank her and she is gone. 

A couple days later, you are making breakfast when Natasha walks in with her morning wood. “Wanda already left for work,” she says as she roughly enters you. She doesn't have a lot of time so she pounds into you until she is ready to cum. She pulls out and shoots her sperm on your back. “That looks good, have a plate ready for me when I come back down, please.” 

“Of course,” you say as you finish making the meal. 

One day, you arrive home after class to find Wanda and Natasha fucking on the kitchen table. You drop your things to join them. Gravitating to Wanda’s cock to suck on her as Natasha rams her cock into the woman's pussy. “Welcome home,” Wanda says through gasps. “How was your day?”

You pop her cock out of your mouth to answer. “It was good, I'm happy to be home though.” You take her cock back into your mouth and Wanda's head falls back at the over stimulation of her cock and pussy at the same time. When she is cumming, Natasha swiftly pulls out of her and pulls you off of Wanda by your hair and shoves her cock into your mouth. Wanda's cum continues to shoot out, making a mess on her stomach and table. Natasha fucks your face ruthlessly until she is releasing her orgasm in your mouth. 

“We’re so happy to have you back,” Natasha says through her grunts. She pulls out of your mouth breathlessly and looks at her dirty wife. “Clean her up,” she orders you as she walks away. 

Dutifully, you nod and start to lick up all of Wanda’s cum. “Thank you, baby,” she says as she lazily strokes your hair. You kiss her belly once it's only glistening with your saliva. She looks so beautiful and delicious splayed out naked on the table. You can't help kissing the rest of the way down to have your tongue in her sensitive pussy. “Ohhh,” Wanda says as you lick her just the way she likes. “I’m so happy you agreed to love us,” she says. 

“Not as happy as I am,” you reply sweetly. “Besides, it's easy loving the two of you.” 

Your words make Wanda emotional and she sits up on the table, requesting that you stand up. She pulls you into a deep kiss as she wraps her legs around your middle and her arms around your shoulders. “Please don't leave us.” 

“Never,” you promise, because you have no plans on ever doing so. 

“Nat and I have been wondering,” she starts a little nervously. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “Would you start sleeping in our bedroom, with us?”

You grin, feeling giddy as the relationship progresses, “Of course!” 

Wanda mirrors your expression. “I’m glad because,” she pulls your ear close to her lips, “I want to wake up with your tongue inside of me,” you get wet at the idea of how much more access the three of you will have to each other now. You never thought when you agreed to go home with her almost a year ago that this would be your life. But you are so grateful that it is.

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Matters of Trust

A Danny Phantom x Spider-Man (Tom Holland movies) Crossover

---

The screen flickered slightly, distorting Danny's face even now, with years of minimal exposure. Tucker glared at it,  he'd figure out a solution someday. "Nope, old settings were better." Sam affirmed, or critiqued? Both probably? Danny's form glitched again as he just threw his gaze up to the ceiling.  "Guys." "I'm gonna get it!" "Sure you will," Sam shot back. "I got it too work when we had access too ectoplasm, I just have to... you okay Danny?" His mostly alive friend dropped his head on the table (desk? Workbench? Tucker hadn’t been there in a while) with a thunk. "Fucking billionaires." "Oooo what'd Vlad do?"

"Not him, this time." "Who? Do I know them?" "I don't know, do you know Tony Stark?" "Eh, I've been introduced before, I avoid him... did you meet him or'd he make some sort of rift in space again?" "He dragged the kid into the Accords thing." "Wait? Your kid?!" "Tucker you make it sound like I'm his father. I'm just helping him out." "Fine, your protégé?" Tucker was proud of his Vlad impression, it caused Sam to snort, and Danny to suppress a smile with a glare. Ah the spooky eyes, the bane of his system's existence. "Whatever, yes. Him." Danny reluctantly agreed. "If he made him sign something, I'm sure my parents have lawyers that can stand against Starks." "Thanks, Sam, but that's not the problem," "Then....?" "The fact that Stark brought a 15 year old to fight some ex assassins, supersoldiers, a powerful sorceress, and a literal giant. I swear if the kid hadn't been so excited about it..." There was a long moment of silence as they took that in." "You mean the red and blue guy, on the news—" "Is swingy oversized sweater kid, yeah..." Another long silence, that almost had Tucker checking to make sure the internet was still going... not that he knew what to say... "I don't know what to do, Stark showed up at his house, guys, his civilian ID's place of sleeping. And Spidey doesn't seem at all bothered by that!" "How'd he even find that out?!" "Internet, same way Tucker would." "But I didn't! Because you asked me not too." "Thanks, Tuck... on that note... could you..." "Sweep the trail up?" Why hadn't he offered to do that earlier?  This whole problem could've been avoided if he'd just asked Danny if 'don't look into him' included cleaning up digital footprints... "Yeah, unless Stark already did..." "Of course, Is it better or worse if he did, do that?" Sam asked. "I don't know, if Vlad covered up finding me..." "Creepy." "Eww." "Yeah, but if Stark has good intentions and didn’t..." "Then he's an imbecile." Tucker said. Danny snorted, "Yep," "Right, so if I figure it out while sweeping I'll send that for your notes, and then forget I saw anything." "Thanks, Tuck." "And I've got the lawyers if you need them, just let me know." "Thank you as well. Sam." "Call more often, Danny, or Tuckers never gonna figure out this horrid glitch." "I will, love you guys." -Danny has left the call- ---

Continue on Ao3

[blossomthepinkbunny]

The inconstancy/misuse of the powers in HH/HB

(especially in "Oops")

In regards to the episode "Oops" of Helluva Boss and in general I just wanna say that I genuinely don't understand the misuse of the power levels in Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel. The strongest forces in Hell are the seven deadly sins and after that comes the Royalty and after that the overlords. Then the sinners and the Hellborn are the weakest from my understanding.

There are however some instances in the show which just don't make sense, considering the power system. Like, Charlie is the daughter of the most powerful demon in the whole of hell and troughout the show she just doesn't do anything at all. We are to assume that she has a lot of power still. Technically she should be the second strongest demon in hell. Maybe you could say, that she isn't used to her powers and is somewhat inexperienced and young, but she should still be atleast on the same level of strength as the weakest deadly sin, or Stolas I guess.

But all she does is sit around. I know she isn't the confrontational type and is actually quite the pacifist sometimes, still there are moments where she could use her powers to help her plan or just something. She never tries to protect the Hotel when people like Sir Pentious or the guys who were after Mimzy attack, thats always Alastors Job, even though one could guess that she'd be stronger than him if she would make use of her powers. Maybe she could even protect the demons from Alastor, because mindlessly killing random demons is sort of the opposite of what she wanted to accomplish (but apparently she's just fine with that? This goes back to her not being really well defined at all).

When she sees someone who she consideres her friend (Angel) get abused and harassed by someone, she doesn't do anything to help him. Maybe threaten Valentino or just use her high status to do anything. But nothing comes from her.

In the final episode it's also Alastor who has to fight Adam before Lucifer showes up. Charlie puts up a good fight when she finally decides to move but it just showes us all her potential which is never used.

This ignoring of power is so much worse in "Oops" though. The plot is that Asmodeus can't save Fizz from Crimson because of stupid, artificial reasoning. The first thing that is said is that Asmodeus is the weakest sin, which is fine but it doesn't change the fact that he could still just beat up everybody there. Like yeah he might be the weakest but he's still a SIN. He's stronger than Stolas and definitely a hundred times stronger than some random imp without special assisment.

I saw someone say that Ozzie probably sold away a lot of his power, since he often doesn't read the contracts he singes which is a nice theory but I don't consider it, since it's not mentioned in the episode. And even if he signed away more than half of his power, he should still be so much stronger than Crimson. Crimson is just an Imp and we see his group get taken out by Blitzø and Fizzarolli (one Imp with just a knife and one who can't even really fight) so the show can't even mention Ozzies power level as if it's an actual reason for why he can't do anything. We also see that he's still able to stand up to Mammon confidently in the later episode so he obviously is still VERY strong.

Another excuse they try to pull is with the legal documents he has to sign to give him some conflict and a time limit. But that's stupid too, since we know Ozzie can make Portals. He could just teleport there, take Crimson and his Imps out and be back with Fizz and Blitzø in a second. Also, Stolas is there too and he can turn demons into stone just by looking at them. Why doesn't he just do that to the lawyer guy? Then they don't have to sign and could just leave. I mean it's not as if the lawyer should even be an obstacle to Ozzie or Stolas.

The fact that Asmodeus apparently cares so much for his Partner but never thinks about any of this. At the start of the episode he's literally so worried about even the idea of Fizzarolli going to the greed ring without him and still he'd rather sit there and fill out some documents for a guy he could easily beat any second than to save his Partner who could be in ACTUAL life threatening danger!? The same goes for Stolas who we know can tell when Blitzø is in danger (from the episode truth seekers) but never has that instinct to save him here, even when Blitzø is captured too.

It's also just funny that for a place like hell, which we are constantly reminded of as this place without rules and people that care about a government, there's still that apparent necessity to completely follow Crimson's demands and the arbitrary rules he set. Especially for Asmodeus who is one of the strongest leading forces in hell, to just do whatever a random Imp wants, someone who is so many ranks under him (literally the second to last rank in hells society) is just indescribably stupid. Isn't he the one who could just make new rules? Or just decide that he doesn't want to follow certain ones, since in hell apparently no one follows a lot of rules anyways so why is it presented as if he can't do anything.

That's the thing I disliked most about "Oops" because it's so clear that they just had to make something up because they wrote themselves into a corner with Asmodeus and Stolas being so strong. There are probably more moments like this in both shows. Another one I can think of is that Stolas never helped I.M.P out in any of their missions, even though he can tell when Blitzø is in danger and would be a great help to get them out of situations. Obviously this is only brought up in one episode, because they didn't know how to resolve the conflict and then it just disappeares because it would make a lot of struggles in episodes feel weightless since Stolas can just save the Imps from any danger.

It's just another thing Vivzepop brings up and then drops. The inconstancy in these shows (in Helluva boss even more than in Hazbin) is actually annoying and makes episodes so much harder to watch.

[remnants]

thots about tommy wayne under the cut 👇🏾😚👍🏾

ok so in my head he's not from gotham lol (my guy is east coast mean, which is pretty mean, but not gotham mean which translates to being the sweetest guy on earth once you’re within the city limits). he's the illegitimate and son of patrick wayne and his daddy wouldn't claim him bc the affair/one-night-stand/whatever-you-wanna-call-it happened while he was very much married (fuck this guy fr!) and his wife was very much pregnant (oh brother this guy STINKS!!!). anywayyyy elizabeth mitchell isn’t stupid and knows a fight she can't win when she sees one so she leaves gotham for new york when the test comes back positive and patrick won’t pick up her calls.

and things are going good! she's made a little name for herself as a local nightclub singer and she's got a job waiting tables during the day that makes good money and sure things were a little touch and go for a while and sure there were times where she was sure that they weren't gonna make it but she got her baby through school (he graduated valedictorian btw) and now he's in the first year of his pre med undergraduate degree at the local university on a full scholarship (her parenting HER parenting).

so imagine her surprise when the billionaire deadbeat of the hour shows up on her doorstep one day talking about family duty and lines of succession.

patrick amadeus wayne jr. is dead. dead dead dead. and while it wasn't really a surprise to anyone with eyes (weak lungs can only take so many wet gotham winters and the tabloids were saying that the cough he sported at the latest gala sounded particularly nasty), he was by all appearances an only child (francesca wayne could barely get pj out let alone carry another baby to term) and the waynes were fumbling for someone to take his place before the body was even cold.

the transition is as rough as you would expect, what with the stony silences from his father’s wife (stepmother? who knows, not that either of them would ever acknowledge the relation) whenever they cross paths in the manor (francesca wayne never makes an outside appearance in gotham society again after the passing of her son. she enters a period of seclusion and never emerges, spending her days wandering the halls in mourning blacks and lighting candles in prayer), and sometimes being called patrick or pj by the gotham upper class (intentionally or not. though he suspects intentionally because his mother’s side of the family got the monopoly on his looks). it’s very obvious that he doesn’t fit in but hey, free college is free college and his mama is gonna be set for life if he can just see this through.

of course the whole thing doesn’t go over well (a long lost father suddenly appearing on your doorstep and claiming you only because his other kid died would put most people off to be completely fair) but after some yelling and screaming and haggling, compromises are made. in exchange for thomas moving to gotham and being prepped to take over as head of wayne enterprises, his mother is also to be put up in a fancy brownstone on the upper east side and given enough in allowance (in addition to the 18 years of child support she never got) so that she never has to work again and thomas is to be allowed to continue his studies, graduate medical school (in gotham and not at john hopkins like he planned. rip it was literally his dream school), and become a doctor (i like to think becoming a doctor was solely a thomas wayne endeavor. all the wayne men before him were men of business and trade but tommy has wanted to help people his entire life and he’ll be damned if he lets his father keep him from following his dreams). there’s a handshake and signatures signed on a drawn-up contract (because patrick wayne doesn’t do anything by halves and of course he brought the family lawyer to meet his son after 19 years of pretending he didn’t exist) and thomas goes from a two-bedroom apartment in hell’s kitchen to a bedroom the same size (and then some) right outside of gotham city.

and he does see it through, very well in fact! thomas wayne graduates top of his class in undergrad at gotham university as well as in medical school, is granted a residency at gotham general, and eventually becomes the head of surgery. Along the way, he meets a girl named martha, gets married, and has a beautiful baby boy named bruce (after his maternal grandfather ofc) and the rest is history!

[hook-on-fandoms]

Food Trucks Against Private Army Recruitment

I've been thinking about how Eliot very specifically sad was that the Food Trucks hired ex military. And I remember that in the first season of Redemption RIZ was recruiting and only had ONE decent recruit that couldn't even last the whole season if I remember the fired person correctly.

And I can't stop thinking about how Eliot joined the military to do some good like his dad did. Then he sacrificed bit by bit of himself going into more gray areas as time went on for the greater good that by the time he got out he couldn't see a way back so fully put on the black hat.

And he is not alone in that. There are many who go into "private security" that pretty much ends up becoming wet work in the show. But when you have a skill set and can't keep a job otherwise there you go. I mean they did a whole episode on homeless vets for goodness sake.

But now Eliot has a way of giving them a different choice in the food truck. But with it being a food truck that also means the vets are exposed to what's going on in the streets.

So that leads to the scenario where one sees something they can't stay out of (someone harassing someone else and the like) and the vet just can't let it be so they get involved. The plan was just to get in between and get the harasser to back off, but it got out of hand and now the vet is in jail being charged with assault.

And they wouldn't do anything different but are now mentally preparing themselves for the fact they are probably about to get fired from a really well paying job with great benefits. They're surprised when the cop comes in and says your lawyer is here (they for sure don't have a lawyer let alone called one yet).

Turns out the owners of the food trucks heard what happened (one of the Leverage crew that keeps an eye out on their local batch called up cause always have to know what is going on with your cover) and called up/just enacted the policy for this situation. The lawyer gets the charge thrown out before the day is out.

The vet confusingly goes to work the next day to find out they've got a bonus and a raiser and it is explicitly said one of the company's goals is to improve communities so if defending someone who needs it is something an employee does then the employee is covered.

And other vets find this out and now instead of going private security they can go to a food truck and I wonder if in a small way that weakened those companies

[kinky-pen]

Got any general Ouran headcanons?

More disorganised, general thoughts!

Tamaki:

When Tamaki found out about renfairs, the whole host club wasn't just dragged to one (I don't believe they're a thing in Japan, but I may be wrong), Tamaki made them help him organise one. Yes, Kyoya had thought he'd escaped budgeting for Tamaki's whims in adulthood, and yes he felt stupid for thinking that.

Paints his nails frequently. It's an activity he finds fun, but he also repaints them constantly because he changes his mind about the colour constantly! He also wants them to match his outfit, and god forbid he plan ahead.

Was raised Catholic in France, but finds much more love for the aesthetics and community than the religion himself.

Haruhi:

Haruhi was always androgenous, but she embraces her gender nonconformity and identity even more as they become and understands themselves. Lots of lovely suits, both masc and fem. (They do use all pronouns, also, but use she/they the most)

Keeps the short hair!! I know she grows it out in the manga, but the short hair is nicer, more in character, and Haruhi said on multiple occasions that they prefer it.

When she's a lawyer (not if, let's be real), she's actually scary good at employment law and making sure companies compensate and treat their worker's fairly (comrade Haruhi, everyone)

Kyoya:

Keeps a sketchpad handy a good portion of the time. He found art really relaxed him, and he's pretty talented at it, but he'll keep it to himself as it's something he actually considers for him, not profit or prestige.

Has had a crush on every member of the host club, at some point, except Hanni for obvious reasons (boo, you whore)

Has diagnosed depression, and is half convinced he has a personality disorder of some flavour. He can be a bit of a hypochondriac, however, and his doctors haven't confirmed anything as of yet. Who knows.

Hikaru:

Dyes his hair constantly, all sort of colours. Like Tamaki and his nails, Hikaru recolours his hair very often - as soon as he gets bored of it. It got to the point where he dyed it four times in a month, fried it all off, and had to get a buzz cut. He eased up a little after that.

Loves getting tattoos. He's one of those people that really love the sensation of it, and he also gets a cool piece of art on his body forever! Yes there's something wrong with him, he's seeing a therapist!

Loves spending time in his office, tinkering about with new things - whether it be finding new ways to put together certain pieces of hardware, or coding new software. He can disappear in there for days straight, sometimes (he has a mini fridge stocked with drinks and snacks, don't worry)

Kaoru:

Goes through phases of growing out his hair, then cutting it all off again. Changes hairstyles frequently. When you're head of a designer brand, you do have to balance keeping up with the latest trends with setting them, and I think Kaoru does well with both sides of that.

Loves flower arranging (which is semi-canon), but it's something he keeps up his whole life.

Kaoru actually does have some """mild""" HPD (that's the phrasing he uses, but he generally means he's high functioning) he's just like me frfr

Mori:

This man matures like a fine wine. Will always be attractive, honestly. He went from hunk to DILF to GILF effortlessly.

Still wins Judo competitions and such well into his early fifties, but decided to retire from competing at 53 due to some joint issues. Still keeps it up for fun and health, though.

Had a bit of a revelation about putting his foot down and protecting his boundaries during university. It actually helped him a lot with the self destructive tendencies he has in canon.

Hunni:

Living his best life with his goth wife! He just adores that girl so much and she'll kill for him! (Ask her to kill for you, Hunni, she really wants to)

Takes up baking his own cakes, which does actually save money in the long run - not that they need to worry about that.

Had a similar revelation to Mori in university, caused by Mori standing up for himself more. He realised that he can still be true to himself and what he wants, without running roughshod over those who care about him. He can still be a little selfish, but better than what we see in canon.

Also, as this is a kink blog and I don't really want to encourage engagement from people not into NSFW/are minors - please only 'like' this post if you're the aforementioned :)

[writingraccoon]

tagging @origami-butterfly bc i think you'll be interested at least

So some posts about women in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and it's adaptations have been going around, so I thought I'd give my two cents that no one asked for.

In the original novella there is one important female character I can think of- The girl Hyde tramples. I have not seen any J&H movies or adaptations, unless you count the four episodes of Once Upon a Time that had a (bad) J&H plotline, but i have a decent impression of how most adaptations treat the women they add in.

First of all, I don't think adding women to Jekyll & Hyde is necessary. It speaks to the attitudes of the time that more women are not in the original book, but the book as a whole is inextricably linked with the attitudes of the time, and separating the culture from the novel serves to strip away much of its meaning. Perhaps casting the butler Poole as a woman, or even making Lanyon a woman could be reasonable ways of putting a little more diversity into screen/stage adaptations, but the novel does not even pass the 'two men talk to each other about something that isn't a man' test.

A piece of media does not need to pass the Bechdel test to be good, or interesting. Frankenstein, J&H, Les Mis, Dracula (iirc), and the Christian Bible are all, to my knowledge, things that do not pass the Bechdel test. They are not less valuable for that.

Many J&H adaptations add a love interest to be killed or spurned by Hyde, or a sex worker to be raped or killed to display how evil he is. I hope I need not say that adding a woman to your story just for her to be fridged to say something about a male character is FAR more sexist and hard to watch than a piece of media that just happens to have a lack of women.

At it's heart, Jekyll and Hyde is a story that needs few characters to be told. There is, of course, Dr Jekyll himself, his alter ego Hyde, Utterson, the lawyer turned detective, Lanyon, and Poole. Any other people that show up in the story are unimportant except for what they say about the main characters (pretty common in fiction. the family that dies at the beginning of the hero's journey is not important in and of themselves). The girl that is trampled by Hyde is there to set up how Enfield met him, and tell the audience how evil he is. The old man who is trampled is there to shock the audience and Utterson, and reveal a new depth to Hyde's cruelty. Now, there's something to be said for the fact that the old man is named while the little girl is not.

While pieces that are less adaptations and more inspired by J&H have far more freedom in what they add and what they omit- The Glass Scientists comic, for instance- adaptations that aim to bring the book to stage or screen should actually read the book before deciding what should take place. I would say that adding a love interest not only is unnecessary, but in fact actively harms the effectiveness of any J&H adaptations. Jekyll and Hyde is simply not about that. It is not a love story, (except, you could argue, the love for Jekyll that drives Utterson to become more invested in his hunt for Hyde) and trying to make it a romance interferes with the point and themes of the story, just like switching the perspective from Utterson to Jekyll messes up the story.

The reason why so many adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde fail to capture the essence of the original novel, is that none of the people in charge of them seem to understand the novel at all. They don't understand why Gabriel Utterson is not only not boring, but why he is the lens through with Stevenson chose to tell the story. They don't understand that Hyde is not a separate person, or an evil second personality, or anything else, but that he IS Jekyll, and Jekyll is him (which is an interesting point about humanity's unwillingness to accept the presence of evil inside of ourselves but i don't think most screenwriters are doing that on purpose). And they don't understand why, to put it simply, the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde does not need the addition of a love interest, and in fact is better for the lack of one.

[forthegothicheroine]

Please correct me if I am wrong but I am not sure if there is any way to depict Fagin or Shylock in a modern retelling in a way that is not antisemitic? Is that even possible? Does that make sense?

Fagin: Yes, absolutely. You can either do what the musical did and make him more of an antihero- he does want the best for the kids, but to him "the best" means "raising them to be criminals like he is"- or make him not Jewish. (My father tells me "Fagin teaches Oliver how to sell drugs" happens in The Wire.) You could put the whole thing in the Jewish part of London, meaning that most of the characters save maybe the Bumbles are Jewish, but for a modern story, I don't think London has much of a Jewish mob anymore. (Though there are Jews in the Russian mob in New York.) Will Eisner's graphic novel Fagin the Jew did a great job of making him not a very good person but a lot more human than in Dickens.

Shylock: Eh...

If you're actually putting on the Shakespeare play, then you'd be actively at war with the text, and at that point you should probably just write an entirely new play about the character (see: Will Eisner's Fagin the Jew.) I honestly don't think The Merchant of Venice should be put on anymore, though many Jewish actors who want to do those fun speeches disagree with me, and I wouldn't picket it or anything. If writing a new thing in modern times, there are certainly still loan sharks who will break your knees if you don't pay them back, so hypothetically you could have one as a tragic villain who is whatever ethnicity all the other characters are. The thing is, the most interesting thing about Shylock, and the source of all the great speeches, is the fact that society has been bad to him because he's Jewish. It's not intended to generate lots of sympathy for him, it's more like the Joker's "You let me fall in a vat of acid!" but it is what everyone remembers about the play. I've heard people talk about Portia as a crossdressing lawyer, and I've heard people talk about Antonio maybe being gay, but I've never heard people actually care about the romantic comedy part of Merchant.

So, if being persecuted (for being Jewish or whatever makes sense for your setting) is what makes him interesting, you have to deal with the fact that the story still not only fucks him over, but emphasizes that he's a murdering bastard. You could give him a happy ending, where he and Jessica are reconciled and Antonio apologizes to him, but I suspect that's not what you're trying to do. You could do an Everybody Sucks Here version (which is what the Pacino movie did) and have it be a Peaky Blinders/The Sopranos type mob drama where you're rooting for whoever your preferred gangster is to come out on top. If what you want to adapt is the romantic comedy part, then just drop Shylock entirely. It all depends on what you're going for.

That said, the best Shylock is still Redneck Shylock:

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 8 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in previous/later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: laura is purposefully mean, oc sprains her wrist, oc's mother is a bitch, lots of angst, some sort of miscommunication between oc and jungkook (what's new) (nothing bad this time I promise), probably some curse words as per usual

☆word count: 12.6k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: Some more angst, but a silver lining in the end I promise. Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, September 22nd

                You’re tired. Tired and anxious, especially as nationals are coming in two weeks. Two weeks. It’s unbelievable – it feels like the auditions were yesterday. And you don’t feel ready at all with the choreographies. You’ve mastered them a while ago, yes, but you’ve mastered them alone. Now, you have to practice with the rest of the crew, no matter how much you’ve been trying to avoid Jungkook.

But also, you’re tired and anxious because your mother has been on your back. Indeed, she believes you’ve been investing too much time in the crew, and that you’ve been neglecting your studies. You haven’t, of course, but your mother can’t accept the fact that you are juggling both dance and law. At least that’s what it feels like to you, so whenever she scolds you you just let her talk, tuning her out until she leaves you alone.

Today is no different. You haven’t really been listening to what she’s saying, but all that you know is that she is making you late for dance practice.

“Like, you think dancing will ever bring you any good?” she’s saying. “The type of dance you dance is not something you’ll make a living out of, and I can’t believe you haven’t understood that yet.”

You sigh, and you focus on her where she’s standing in the doorway of your room. “That’s kind of funny coming from you, a professional ballerina.”

Red splotches dot her cheeks. “Ballet is a far more lucrative discipline than whatever you call dance, Y/n. But of course you wouldn’t know.”

You can’t resist but roll your eyes. “Listen mom, I know you don’t like the crew. But I’m an adult and you can’t do anything about it. I have practice now, because we have nationals in two weeks, so can you just please let me go?”

“What are you going to do if I stop paying for your college, uh?” she spits. “You’ve been using my money forever. Your crew doesn’t even pay for the studio.”

“If that’s a problem to you, we can pay”, you say, folding your arms on your chest as you cock an eyebrow. “We’ve suggested it plenty of times before, and you keep refusing.” That makes you shake your head a little, and you add, “And we both know dad wanted to pay for my college. You’re the one who refused.”

You might be a little too bold. It is true that your father had once suggested he could pay for your tuition, considering that you are studying to be a lawyer like him. But that was years ago, and you have no idea if the offer still stands.

“He’s not even your father,” your mother chooses to say, as if you don’t already know.

It just makes you shrug your shoulders. “He’s been more of a father to me these last few weeks than you have been a mother. At least he supports me and my interests.”

She’s insulted. It’s clear as spring water. Brows so furrowed over her eyes that they’re almost touching, fists clenched so hard you can see white on her knuckles. “I…”

But she has nothing else to say. She knows just as well as you do that what you said is true. Your father, even if he isn’t your biological father, has always supported your dance passion. He never once questioned it, never once made you feel lesser because the type of dance you chose isn’t as “elegant” or “classy” as ballet. He also supported you when you decided to join the crew, even if your mother was fully against it.

“As I said, we’re adults, and I have engagements with the crew,” you continue. “So I’m going to go now, and if you want to talk like adults about me paying you for tuition or for the studio, we can do that another time. Alright?”

It’s insolent, the way you say it, but you know nothing else works with your mother. Sometimes, you feel like you’re the more mature one out of the two of you.

Scratch that – you are the more mature one out of the two of you.

Surprisingly, your mother lets you go for now. You expect that she will be on your back again soon enough, but at least you will be able to get to practice without being too late. And you walk quickly to compensate, so much so that you end up arriving before Jungkook and Heather, and you start stretching next to Jiho.

“Hey loser,” Jiho greets you, and you reckon the moment you see her, the annoyance your mother caused you goes down the drain.

Your relationship with her has been sailing smoothly now that you have decided to cut Jungkook out of your life. Now that you’ve actually taken steps to remove him from your heart too, which you’ll be forever thankful for. Maybe Jisung helped a little too, making Jiho realize that pushing her happy relationship in your face was the wrong thing to do. She and Hobi have chilled a little now, though you don’t feel about it the way that you did a month ago.

Now you’re just happy whenever you think about how Jiho got lucky. You know more than anyone else that she deserves that luck.

“Hey stupid,” you reply.

“Are you calling my girlfriend stupid?” Hobi asks, faking offense.

“We all know she’s stupid for you,” Scottie points out, and everyone laughs.

You love them. You love the crew with every single beat of your heart. You can’t imagine a life without them – if you had to choose, you’d cut ties with your mother before you’d even consider dropping out of the crew.

Heather joins you next, bright smile on her lips as Bridget files in behind her. You wave to Bridget and she waves in return, before moving to the spot where you’ve brought bean bags in for her.

After all, Bridget has taken a liking to attending dance practice, saying that it helps her to focus on studying. You have no idea how she manages to do that – loud music has always been a big distraction for you – but Bridget does it well. Sitting in a corner on one of the bean bags with her laptop on her knees, typing away as you all dance.

Jungkook doesn’t seem like he’s going to come soon, and Hobi suggests practicing without him. No one argues, and Lance sets up the music as you all take your places on the floor in front of the mirror.

You’ve done the choreography almost three and a half times when Jungkook finally deigns to show up, and you’re ready to throw hands when you realize why he’s late: he’s decided to bring Laura to practice.

Mind you, you’ve been good at moving on lately, or maybe you’ve just been good at pretending you’ve moved on. But seeing her in a space that she doesn’t belong in, in a scene that never should have been tainted with her presence makes your heart hammer in your chest, eyes going wide.

Jiho has the exact same reaction, mouth hanging open as she looks at Laura walking in. Laura has the decency to look shy a little as everyone just stares at her, and it’s with cheeks flushing red that she raises a bag she’s holding.

You only then notice that Jungkook is holding a bag too.

“We brought boba for everyone,” Laura sheepishly says, entirely avoiding the side of the room where you, Jiho and Lance are standing.

You exchange a look with your best friend, features slightly turning into a frown just long enough for her to notice. To outside eyes, nothing happened, and you’re back to looking at Laura a second later.

Though what you notice then is not her. It’s Jungkook. Jungkook is looking at you, as if he’s gauging your reaction. You meet his eyes, and you hope your emotions don’t show on your face.

Because quite frankly, the hammering of your heart aches, and you wish you could disappear.

Lance is the first one to break the silence that followed Laura’s words. And then everyone follows suit, moving closer to grab their own drink. All you can do is stay rooted in your spot, and you keep looking at Jungkook. He keeps looking at you too, and it feels like the moment has frozen for the two of you. It’s strange, as you have been avoiding him, but it does feel like the connection is still there.

You think it probably will always be there. You’ve just been better at accepting its existence doesn’t mean you and Jungkook were meant to be together anyway.

You stare at each other until Hobi nudges Jungkook, who blinks as if he’s been brought out of a trance. He shakes his head a little, gaze sliding to Hobi, and then he’s opening the bag he’s holding to hand the drinks he has.

You just stay there, teeth digging in the inside of your lips as you notice Laura has seen. She’s seen you and Jungkook looking at each other, and she’s frowning. When your eyes meet, it’s only for her to glare at you.

You wish you could tell her that he’s hers anyway, that she doesn’t have to hate you, but you’d never be able to step on your pride like that. So with your head held high you walk towards where they are. It feels decisive, like something is about to change – maybe the universe is about to shift back into position, after having spun off its axis since that night under the stars.

You think Jungkook senses you approaching, because he doesn’t even look at you when he tells Laura, “Babe, do you have the banana milk bobas?”

Her features turn solid, harsh. “I have yours, yes.”

You watch Jungkook. He’s furrowing his brows as if he doesn’t understand. “You don’t have Y/n’s?”

To hear him say your name makes your heart stop in your chest, and you reckon it hurts just as much as the hammering.

“I only got one banana milk.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides to you then. The room fills with tension, and you just cock an eyebrow as you hold his gaze. As if to say ‘she’s the one you chose as your girlfriend?’

“I asked you to get one for Y/n too.”

Laura just shrugs, and she fakes innocence. “Sorry, I forgot.”

It doesn’t really matter. It’s just a boba anyway, and you don’t usually drink anything while you practice, so you don’t upset your stomach. But the way Jungkook’s features fall, turning apologetic, makes you clench your fists until you feel the sting of your nails digging in your palms.

But you decide to be the bigger person, because you can’t really stay in front of them any longer. “No worries,” you let out, and you spin on your heels, moving away.

Jiho catches your gaze, and she looks livid. Way more than you are, because you reckon this little interaction almost made you faint.

“Wait, Y/n,” Jungkook says.

Now, you’re pretty sure you’re stepping on shards of glass as you turn back around. “Uh?”

“Take mine,” he suggests, and he even digs in Laura’s bag to hand it to you.

You shake your head. “Nah, it’s fine.”

He doesn’t insist, and Laura doesn’t say anything else either. But you see the way everyone is looking at each other: disapprovingly, and you think Lance and Jiho are about to say something. You shrug your shoulders to tell them that it really is fine, but it’s a lie to yourself.

The fact Laura purposefully didn’t get a boba for you does upset you. It’s childish of her, and maybe it’s childish of you to get upset over it too. But you’re human, and you aren’t flawless.

Lately you’ve been thinking you’re more flaws than qualities anyway. And you don’t think it’s your fault that your mind fills with the night sky and cataclysms again. You’re allowed to feel, you’re allowed to break.

You avoid Jungkook’s gaze after that. You try to ignore Laura too, but she has a smug look on her face. She knows what she did, and she’s happy about it. You didn’t think Jungkook would be able to like someone like that.

But he never really did like you anyway, did he?

You made progress over the few last weeks. You really did. You’ve barely been thinking about Jungkook now, but something about standing in a room where she is too… It’s unraveling your progress. You feel like you’re back on square one, back to the day he told you about her.

Right in this room, actually. And maybe you’re not on square one, maybe it was bound to end in that same place.

Dancing isn’t easy, under her watchful gaze. Under the smugness on her features. Under the remorse on Jungkook’s own features. He looks like he wants to apologize, like he wants to talk to you maybe.

But that boat sailed a long time ago, and you’re not going to speak to Jungkook alone outside of choreography talk anymore.

Bridget doesn’t seem too happy when Laura decides to sit next to her. She throws you a look, eyes going to the ceiling before they settle back on you.

It’s then that you realize just how much you really do love the crew, and the other friends you’ve made over the last few months. All of them… They’re your family. Who cares about a broken heart when you have a family like that?

Jungkook is kinder tonight, as he makes you practice. Well, he starts that way, until he seems to relax and forget that Laura is here, and that she was a bitch to you. Then he returns to his usual iron will, and he hammers the choreography into each of you, as if you don’t already know it.

But something about the way Laura’s been looking at you this whole time is starting to make you lose your cool. You feel anxious, though you reckon you really have been feeling anxious for days now. About nationals, about your mom, and of course about Laura and Jungkook.

Jungkook stops the music for the thousandth time. “Heather, try doing this instead,” he says as he shows the move he’s talking about. He’s still moving mechanically, but everyone has stopped noticing it now. “I think it’ll work better.”

She nods, and Jungkook starts the song again.

You’re not one to trip. You’ve never tripped on your feet, have always been agile. But for some reason your feet tangle during one of the steps, the one Jungkook changed for Heather, and all you know is that you’re down before you even had time to blink.

It hurts. Something hurts, and you don’t know if it’s the embarrassment or your body. You only know that tears are pricking at your eyes.

It only doubles up when your gaze meets Jungkook’s doe eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks.

He’s kneeling next to you, and you didn’t even notice him moving. Hands gently holding your shoulders as you try to push yourself up.

Pain shoots up your left arm, and you would have collapsed had he not been holding you.

“Fuck.”

“You’re hurt,” he says rhetorically, and he helps you as you sit up.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you. They look shocked, but what you really do notice are Laura’s eyes. She’s livid where she’s sitting, and you almost want to scream at her that this is her fault. That Jungkook wouldn’t be touching you if she wasn’t here tonight.

“I don’t know,” you reply, and your gaze moves back to Jungkook.

He looks concerned, infinitely so. He’s a little pale, and his big eyes scan your features a few times before dropping to your left arm. Your wrist has already started to swell, and you both look at it for a time.

“Do you think it’s broken?” he asks with a small voice.

You don’t know. You don’t know shit. All you know is that your heart is breaking again, always, and the tears you’re blinking back aren’t because of the pain anymore.

Aren’t because of the physical pain, in fact.

“Can you please stop touching me?” you ask.

He’s not looking you in the eyes, but you feel how he stiffens next to you. How his shoulders tense up, how his jaw clenches. His hands drop on his thighs, and then they turn to fists.

“Sorry. I just…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe because he’s realized everyone saw him run to your side the moment you hurt yourself.

You know then that he does care. That whatever led him to choose Laura over you wasn’t because he didn’t care about you. Or maybe he only cares because you’re part of the crew, and you getting injured puts you all at risk of failing nationals.

Needless to say, you favour the former possibility.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Jiho asks as she moves closer.

Jungkook doesn’t move, and neither do you. You just glance at her. “I think it’s just sprained.”

“You better get it checked out before nationals,” Hobi points out. “Just to be sure.”

You nod. He’s right, and the pain turns into anger. The blinding kind of anger. Because if this messes up your performance at nationals, you’re pretty positive you’ll murder Jungkook.

For choosing her, for bringing her tonight, for caring when he should be pretending he doesn’t care.

But he was there under the stars, wasn’t he?

“Okay,” you agree. “But no need to call an ambulance, I can just grab a Lyft.”

There’s no chance in hell you’re risking an ambulance bill when your mother has been pestering you about money earlier this evening. You have pretty good insurance, you really do, but you’re not going to risk having a higher bill than needed.

“I’ll go with you,” Jiho declares.

No one else says anything, because she’s obviously the only one that should be going with you, and a moment later you’re leaving.

You can’t help looking over your shoulder as you go. Jungkook is watching you leave, and you think you see him blinking back tears too. You might have imagined it though, and you’re gone before you can make sure.

Maybe he hasn’t forgotten. Maybe he still remembers how it felt, maybe he’s finally realizing the implication of his decisions.

You reckon you shouldn’t even be thinking about that. So you cling to the progress you made, and you pretend you’re not blinking back tears during the Lyft ride. Jiho holds your hand, the uninjured one, and she pretends she doesn’t see the tears either.

Sunday, September 23rd

                Laura has been crying for twenty minutes now. Jungkook thinks she should have seen it coming: after getting angry at him about you last night, she made his decision pretty easy.

He knew he was going to break up with her the moment she started insulting you to his face. And she knows what happened between you and him; he told her everything, not wanting to build a relationship over a lie.

Maybe that’s why she’s been crying so much. Sobbing, face flushed red as snot pours from her nose. She’s told him he’s an asshole and a liar at the beginning, but it hasn’t affected him like he thought it would.

No, he never lied to her. He only lied to himself, so much so that he refused to even acknowledge how he feels about you. But seeing you getting hurt yesterday – both by Laura and because of your wrist… It brought him right back to the night he chose her over you, and it made him sick to his stomach.

They are in Jungkook’s room. Laura is sitting on his bed, and he’s sitting in front of his gaming PC. His chair is turned away from the monitor, but the sound is on speaker, so he hears it when he receives a discord notification.

He looks over his shoulder to see that Taehyung wrote something, but Laura lets out a broken sound that grabs his attention again.

“I just…” she says as she sniffs and he turns back to look at her. “You fucking used me.”

He plays with his piercing for a few seconds. He does feel bad. He’s not immune to someone he cares about being hurt. And for all that she thinks, Jungkook does care about her. Platonically, that is. Because she is comfortable, she is like the sun in his life.

She was like the sun in his life.

Because he misses his night sky too much. He’s not stupid though: he can’t be with you either. He doesn’t want to do that to you. To run back to you with his tail between his legs begging for forgiveness. He just doesn’t want to string someone along when his heart is not into it.

“I didn’t,” he says, and it’s not the first time he’s told her that in the last twenty minutes. “I really wanted to be with you, but after the disrespect you pulled yesterday, I just don’t want that anymore.”

“You say that as if she doesn’t deserve it!” Laura exclaims. “She broke your heart.”

He shrugs. “We broke each other’s hearts.”

He knows it now. And he knows he’s mostly responsible for it. Because he was too proud, too immature to fully face whatever it was that was blossoming between you and him when you clearly were ready to commit.

Laura stays for a while longer. Crying, screaming at him, and Jungkook just does his best to remain impassive. It hurts him, it does, and in other circumstances he’s pretty sure he would have cried. He’s a sympathetic crier, and seeing Laura cry should be enough to make him cry, but somehow it isn’t. Somehow his gaze remains dry during the whole ordeal, even as he thinks of all the good moments he shared with her.

But it’s been just a little under three months, of them seeing each other. He’s known you for years now. The impact she has on him is just not the same as you, and he reckons he’s not an asshole enough to cry about you in front of her.

He’ll allow his heart to break for you later.

When Laura leaves, Jungkook walks her to the door. He even orders the Lyft for her, and when she begs him to not break up, he tells her he is glad he got to know her. At that she bristles, punches him in the chest and then she turns around to leave, without once looking over her shoulder.

His heart does ache for her then, and he reckons he does shed a tear about it. He wipes it quickly though, and when he turns around to head back upstairs, passing through the living room to reach the stairs, he’s met with a stunned Yoongi.

He doesn’t know how long Yoongi has been standing there, only that his older friend sports wide eyes.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I broke up with Laura.”

Jin pops his head out of the kitchen. “You did what?”

Valeria appears behind him, a sad smile on her lips. “I’m so sorry, JK.”

He’s stunned for a few seconds. Valeria does look concerned for him, but Jin has started smiling and Yoongi just looks confused.

“Don’t be,” Jungkook reassures Valeria, offering her a small, sad smile. “It is the right thing to do.”

Jin fully comes out of the kitchen, crossing his arms on his chest. “And why is it the right thing to do?”

Jungkook’s brow creases as he holds Jin’s gaze. “Uh?”

“Is there a certain someone that’s caused this… sudden decision?”

Yoongi seems like he’s just put two and two together. “Did something happen with Y/n?”

“Y/n?” Valeria lets out. She appears to be the one that is confused now. “The girl from the cottage?”

Jin grabs her elbow, slightly shaking his head at her as if to tell her not to talk, before turning his shit-eating grin back on Jungkook. “Good for you, bro.”

“Uh?” is all Jungkook can produce again before Jo and Taehyung appear too.

It’s the strangest thing. All his friends flocking in as if they sensed something important happened in his life. As if they sensed he might need them, or as if they too have sensed the shifting of the universe.

It has shifted right back into place, hasn’t it?

“Damn, what are you all doing here?” Taehyung asks as he passes by Jungkook, heading towards the kitchen. Jo is following him, and she and Valeria greet each other.

“Jungkook broke up with Laura,” Jin provides in a sing-song voice.

He’ll murder him. Jungkook will kill Jin in the most agonising way he can think of.

Taehyung stops in his tracks, and Jo bumps into him. She’s the one that turns with eyes big as saucers.

“What the fuck?”

It leads to a very strange conversation. They all sit in the kitchen, and since it’s still early afternoon Jin decides to make mimosa for everyone. Though the atmosphere feels heavy to Jungkook, somehow, it doesn’t linger too long as he speaks with his friends. As they speak to him too, and the conversation doesn’t linger on Laura for long either.

As if she didn’t even matter anyway. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe it’s always been about you anyway.

He knows it’s true now. But he’s too late, and he knows that too. He won’t ask anything of you again. Though he’s learned his lesson, and he won’t let his pride affect him anymore. It was a good defense mechanism for a time, albeit a dysfunctional one.

He’d rather leave it in the past.

Hobi and Jiho arrive as Yoongi leaves, and Jin is once again the one to break the news to the new arrivals. The glare Jiho has been reserving for him for weeks melts as her gaze matches the one Jo offered him earlier.

He reckons he’s getting tired of it, so he says, “It’s nothing, can you please all stop?”

He’s angry. He really does sound angry too, frustrated, embarrassed and annoyed. It works, but it creates an uncomfortable silence that he decides to flee this time around. He gets up from the table, tells them that he has to go, and he moves up to his room.

He decides to clean it then. To wash away every little lingering piece of Laura, and then he sits at his PC and games. He games for a while, until guilt catches up to him about not doing schoolwork today, and then he turns off his game to work on editing the pictures he’s starting to choose for the final project he’s already been working on since the beginning of the semester.

Pictures he took through the last few months appear on his monitor. They’re a collection of moments and emotions, and each picture tells its own story. He stills on the page for a time, watching the pictures without blinking, before he decides to add one to the others.

It feels like it deserves the centermost spot, and he doesn’t even hesitate as he reorders the pictures.

It’s late in the evening when his phone buzzes next to him. He hasn’t looked at it since he’s come up, and the text brought him back to reality,  quite at the same time his stomach growls to remind him he hasn’t eaten all that much today.

He pushes his hair back, before grabbing the phone. He tilts his head to the side in surprise as he sees Jiho’s the one that texted him.

[8:37 pm] Jiho: hey, i told everyone to let you tell y/n urself. plz don’t be an asshole again🙄

It does put weight on his shoulders, but he knows Jiho is right. He’s about to tell her so when he receives another message from her.

[8:38 pm] Jiho: but u better talk to her soon bc she’ll find out herself if u don’t. she’ll be at the studio tmrw night

Now he feels as if someone is crushing his heart in his chest. Anxiety floods his blood, and he wonders, is that how you felt that night before he told you about Laura?

He reckons he deserves the anxiety, but you also deserve him telling you. So he tells Jiho he’ll be there, before turning off his phone and resting it face down on the desk.

He keeps working on his project until late that night. Until the night sky glitters up above as he looks out his window, reminding him that some things are forever.

Monday, September 24th

                You think it’s early in the year for the weather to be so cold. Like the summer came and went in the blink of an eye, and it really does feel like it.

The summer warmth really feels like a distant memory as the cold fingers of the fall wind grabs at your hair, blowing it all around your head. It’s unusual for it to be so cold today, and from your weather app you know that it’s not going to last. It’s already supposed to start warming up in the next few days, but today it really feels as if you’ve time traveled to the autumn days that are looming over the horizon.

It starts raining a little before you get home, and you reckon you should have grabbed a Lyft to go back home. But you wanted to walk, and now you have to suck it up and live with the consequences of your choice.

Your wrist still aches a little, and the cold makes it feel worse, as if someone’s digging their fingers in your skin, right where it already hurts. You glare at it, as if it’s going to change anything. It’s not broken. Just sprained, and the doctor said you should be okay to dance at the competition, as long as you don’t go crazy with the hands motion.

Hence why you’ll be heading to the studio later tonight: you need to figure out how to adjust the choreography so you don’t hurt yourself more.

You sigh, though your house finally comes into sight. It’s a relief, it really is, until you see that your mother is home. You haven’t spoken yet since Saturday. She doesn’t even know you’ve hurt yourself, and you don’t see why she would need to know.

She’d probably just scold you because that’s the only thing she knows how to do.

You walk up to your house, wincing as a particularly strong gust of wind almost makes you lose footing. Luckily enough, you remain steady, and a few seconds later you finally reach the door.

You open it and step in, shutting it softly behind you hoping your mother won’t hear you.

Only, she’s sitting at the foot of the staircase that’s almost right in front of the door, just outside the hall, and a duffel bag lies on the ground next to her. It’s yours, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you take off your Airpods.

“What are you doing?” you ask her as you remove the platform boots you wore to college today. It’s hard to unzip them with just one hand, but you manage to succeed after a few tries.

Your mother just remains silent. Confusion moves through you even more, and you’re getting out of the hall when her eyes fall on the brace around your wrist.

“What happened?” she asks. The way she says it is curt, as if she’s asking just because she has to, and not because she’s concerned.

You know damn well she’s not concerned. And it’s not like you will tell her about Jungkook, Laura and the whole thing that led to you spraining your wrist. So you just shrug and say, “Nothing really, just a sprain.”

She nods at this, and then she kicks at the duffel bag next to her. “It’s going to make this hard to carry.”

“Why would I carry this?”

You’re stupid sometimes. Book smart, street stupid. Because it’s obvious. To outside eyes, what is going to happen is completely obvious. But you just stand there, watching her with an eyebrow cocked quizzically.

“Because you don’t get to live here anymore.”

You laugh. You genuinely start laughing, shaking your head. “Okay mom, of course.”

You walk around the duffel bag and her, and you’re halfway up the stairs when she speaks again. “I’m serious, Y/n. I’ve had enough of you living under my roof. I don’t have to be taking care of you anymore, not at your age.”

You freeze, before slowly turning to look at her. “What?”

“You can try living on campus or getting an apartment, I really don’t care. I’m giving you a month to be out. You can keep the furniture that’s in your room.”

She’s still sitting with her back turned to you, because you know she’s too much of a coward to tell you while looking you in the eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“You can keep practicing at the studio. And no, you don’t have to pay for it. And I’ll pay for your college until the end. I just don’t want you living under my roof anymore.”

You’re stunned for so long you think you’ve been turned into a statue. You don’t know what to say, and your brain can’t really process what she’s saying. “And you expect me to go right now?”

She nods, finally glancing at you over her shoulder. “Yes. I prepared a bag that should have everything you need.”

You scoff, and you start feeling like you’re going to be sick. Like someone pulled a rug under your feet, and you’re crashing to the ground.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She nods again, slowly getting up. “Yes, Y/n. Go live with your father for all I care.”

“He’s in California!” you burst. “College is a twenty minute walk from here.”

“You can find some housing that’s near college,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not my business anymore.”

“By tonight?”

You’re seeing red. No, in fact, you’re way past the red, everything turning fully white as fury grabs you into its hold, blinding you.

“Yes.” There’s a silence, and then she adds, “I’m sure you could stay with the Hans. Or some other friends.”

You don’t remember the rest of the fight. You remember screaming, and you remember her screaming back. You remember going up to your room to make sure you really had what you needed, packing an extra bag yourself as she screams at you from the door to your room. Telling you how much she hates you and hates that you’re the reason why the love of her life left.

As if she’s not the one who cheated on him. And when you tell her so, she strides in your room and slaps you straight across the cheek. She’s wearing rings, and you feel your skin sting where one of the rings cut through your cheek.

A glance in the mirror confirms that you are already bleeding.

Then all you remember is walking to the studio. Carrying the bags, not even feeling their weight. You can barely even feel the ache in your wrist. You hide in the room you usually take for refuge, and it strikes you then that it might be your actual last refuge.

Because you don’t have a house anymore.

You want to call your father, you want to call Jiho, you want to scream and throw up and rage at the world. But all you can do is sit with your back against the mirror.

Jiho is supposed to come later anyway. You just need to wait for her.

You watch the sun lowering on the horizon, light moving on the floor as it slowly sets, a long time after you’ve gotten to the studio. You feel as if you don’t move, then maybe none of this will be real, that maybe you’re going to wake up from a really bad nightmare.

Your mother is a bad mother, she is, but she’s not a monster.

Your eyes slide to the bags. They’re in the semi-obscurity next to the door, because you haven’t turned the lights on. But they’re still there, and it’s proof that it really did happen.

That your mother is really the monster you prayed she’d never be.

Tears come to you then. Welling up in your eyes, stabbing into your heart, and you pull your knees to your chest, resting your head on them as you wrap your arms around them. As if holding yourself will stop you from breaking.

You reckon you’re already fragile. You’ve barely glued the pieces of your heart back together after Jungkook, so maybe you break a little harder.

Maybe the tears and the pain are tenfold what they would have been otherwise. Because you’re in pain. It physically hurts a lot more than Jungkook did. Because a mother is supposed to protect you, to love you unconditionally.

The last time you think your mom loved you was when you were eight and practicing ballet. Long before you gave up on it to focus on dance styles that felt more natural to you, with upbeat music that you could get lost in easier.

You remember the last day she told you. You won a competition, and when you got off the stage she gave you flowers and told you she loved you. She brought you to get ice cream after, and you stained your outfit as you ate. She yelled at you then, told you that you had to be better.

You never were good enough. You’d never be good enough to live up to her expectations, and you accepted that a while ago. But you never thought, never could imagine that she’d choose to kick you out.

Because that’s what happened. You’ve been kicked out of your house, kicked out of the home you grew up in. Kicked out of the memories of laughter and dancing around the kitchen with your father. Of Christmas wrapping paper and twinkling lights, of crying at the dinner table because you didn’t understand a math concept and your father sucked at trying to help.

You’ve been kicked out of the house where you and Jiho played Wii in the basement when you were younger, kicked out of the house that your father left from.

You’re spiraling. You know you are, and your breathing is turning erratic as panic wells up in your chest. What are you even supposed to do?

A soft knock at the door startles you. You don’t even remember shutting it behind you. All you know is that the sun is fully set when your brain focuses back on the present, and dusk has made the studio dark in shades of grey that match the bleak colour of your feelings.

You look at the door, but it’s lacking a window for you to see who’s on the other side. You assume it must be Jiho, and you really feel like crying in her arms for a time. So you get up on wobbly feet, making your way to the door, seeking your best friend’s comfort.

You almost let out a terrified scream when you open the door and Jeon Jungkook is standing on the other side, a halo of light surrounding him and blinding you coincidentally.

You blink a few times, as if it’s going to make him disappear, but you still see him once you hold your eyelids still.

He’s in front of you, wearing an oversized grey crewneck over a black t-shirt. He’s holding bubble teas, and glasses you’ve never seen him wear before sit on his nose. His hair is a mess around his head from the wind outside, and his eyes surveys you as you just stand there.

But he has no business being here right now, when you’re breaking. It just breaks harder, and he looks utterly terrified as tears well up in your eyes again, so much so that they start rolling on your cheeks.

He says your name, so softly you don’t really hear him. He says your name as if you’re made of glass, and maybe you are. Maybe you are and all that you know how to do is break and break and break.

Your face falls in your hands, and you cry, you sob, and it takes Jungkook a few hesitant seconds before he steps closer to you and wraps an arm loosely around you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a small voice.

You grab his shirt with your uninjured hand and press your forehead against him. He’s warm, and it hurts even more.

But you don’t have anything left in you that can break. Your mother made sure of that, he made sure of that all those months ago. All that’s left is an ocean of sorrow, and you fear you’ve just seen the surface.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks again.

You say something through your tears, but you reckon it was inaudible. So you steel yourself, before asking, “Why are you here?”

He pulls you in, closes the door behind him. You fall in darkness again. “Why is it so dark?”

“Hold on,” you say though you’re still crying. You let go of his shirt before moving to the light switch. You keep your back turned to him as the neon lights flicker to life around you.

“Y/n, what’s happening?” he enquires once more.

You hate him. You hate him so much you want to turn around and move back to the comfort of his arms. Because then you can focus on the pain he causes, on the lava he pours into your blood. You’ve already gotten used to it, and it’s easier to handle that than whatever your mother did to you.

“My mother kicked me out,” you reply, using the sleeve of your shirt to dry your cheeks.

You’re surprised when no new tears meet those that have already cascaded down your face.

“What?”

You chuckle, ever so bitterly. “You heard me right.”

He’s silent for so long you turn around. And he looks so sad it only makes you break again, and fresh silver lines your gaze. Especially as his eyes fall to the cut on your cheek, that you at least managed to clean when you got to the studio. All you can do is hope he won’t mention it.

“What are you doing here anyway?” you ask as you blink the tears away.

“Jiho told me to come.”

So he’s not going to mention it, but you’re going to kill Jiho. You’re pretty positive you’re going to eviscerate her the next time you see her. It’s an emotion other than the sorrow, and you cling to it as best as you can, because right now it feels like preservation.

“I don’t need your help,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.

It makes your sprained wrist hurt, and you let your arms fall at your side almost immediately.

Jungkook just nods, and he pulls at his piercing, like you’ve seen him do a thousand times before. He glances at your bags next to the door, and then holds up one of the bobas.

“Do you want a bubble tea?”

It brings you back to Saturday, and goddamn him you’re crying again. “No.”

He takes a step towards you, then seems to realize he isn’t the one that should be comforting you. Not with Laura in the picture.

“I got your favourite.”

You know he did. You know Jungkook would always get your favourite bubble tea, because that’s just the person that he is. As much as he breaks, Jungkook cares too.

You inhale sharply, trying to keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks. “Why?”

He seems like he wants to talk, to say something, but he remains silent. He just holds the bubble tea out between the two of you, and you watch it as if it’s going to blow before you finally walk towards him.

You grab it with shaky hands, before taking a long swig.

“Better?”

You don’t know how drinking bubble tea will make you feel better about getting kicked out, so you just remain silent. Jungkook figures you don’t want to say anything, and he just stands there, looking away from you as if to give you privacy.

For a few seconds, all you can picture is how he cared last Saturday.

“I sprained my wrist,” you tell him. And then you bristle at your sight as you look in the mirror on the wall.

Your face is flushed red, eyes bloodshot and nose putting Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer to shame. You look positively horrible, hair ruffled and all out of place.

“Yeah,” he replies flatly. He then worries at his piercing some more, and you turn your gaze away from the mirror. “Are you going to be okay for nationals?”

You realize the next time you might be in a bedroom is at the hotel for nationals, and you’re back to crying. “I don’t know,” you say, and this time Jungkook really hugs you, pulling you flush against his chest.

You hate that you’re crying in his arms, but he’s warm and solid, and right now it’s all that you need.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he whispers reassuringly, brushing his hand on your back in a soothing manner. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I have nowhere to stay tonight,” you admit.

It feels as if he holds you a little tighter. “You can come over to mine. Stay in my room, I can grab the couch.”

It is a stupid idea, and it just makes you cry more. “Why?”

“I care about you,” he says simply.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care and shouldn’t make you feel safe. But he does. He still makes you feel safe even though he broke your heart. Even though he’s hers.

You think about her. You think of her smug smile Saturday. And maybe it makes you a bitch, maybe it makes you worse than she is, but you say, “Are you sure the boys wouldn’t mind?”

He pulls away so he can look you in the eyes. “Yeah. They love you, they will be happy to help.”

You refuse to mention Laura. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s arms. Instead, you nod once, sniffling a little. And then you glance down at his chest, and at the wet spot you left behind. “Sorry about that.”

He looks down too, before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s okay. Let me grab your bags, I’ll call a Lyft.”

You’ve stepped in a parallel universe, haven’t you? One where Jungkook is allowed to take care of you, one where he felt the way that you felt under the stars that night. And you’re selfish. You’re selfish and you decide to let him do it. To let him care for you.

You’ll find a way to fix things yourself tomorrow. But tonight, tonight you’ll let yourself find comfort in his arms and presence. Then maybe the sun will never rise and tomorrow will never come.

Maybe you’ll be allowed to stay in his arms until eternity takes you in its embrace instead.

*****

                It takes you a lot of courage not to cry in the Lyft. Not to look at Jungkook and sob again. It takes you even more courage to sit on your side, miles away from him, with your bags creating a physical border between the two of you.

You’re weak, and you want him to make you feel weaker still. Until you die and can’t feel anything anymore.

The Lyft driver has some music playing on the radio, and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jungkook bobbing his head to the beat. He’s texted away on his phone for the first part of the drive, and you assume he’s informed the boys that you’re coming over.

You wonder what they think, and then you remind yourself that you don’t care. You really just need a place to stay.

You’re not surprised when you receive a text from Jimin, when you’re just a few streets away from their house. It confirms the fact that Jungkook told them, because as you open your phone, you read,

[9:07 pm] park.jm: hey, if u’d rather stay in my room, u’re welcome to it🤗 i’m not gonna be home tonight

You’ve remained friends with Jimin after the night you kissed. As a matter of fact, you think you’re way closer now, mostly because he’s dropped the flirty persona, and now you’ve started seeing the person that he is underneath.

Which is, a very caring and kind person.

You type back a reply, teeth pulling at the ever-constant dry skin of your bottom lip.

[9:08 pm] You: thank u💛 i’ll figure it out later [9:08 pm] You: if jk’s chill with it, i don’t mind staying in his room tho [9:09 pm] park.jm: sounds good!

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jimin. That leaves you to focus on the music on the radio again, and on the splatter of the rain on the windshield and side windows. It only takes a few more minutes, and then the car is stopping in front of the house.

Jungkook grabs your bags as he thanks the driver, and he gets out before you do. You hesitate long enough for Jungkook to have walked around the car, and you figure you have nowhere else to go, so why not just do it?

Why not just claim Jungkook’s room as yours for the night?

It’s not a nice feeling. But it’s starting to take room in your heart, replacing the hurt that your mother left behind. You want to hurt someone, just so you can transfer the pain to someone else. You never thought you’d have it in you to feel this way, but it just feels like it’d be a relief.

Give someone else the weight to bear. You’ve had enough of it.

You’re trying not to think about your mother too much. You know the moment you’ll be left with your thoughts again you’ll crash, so you try to focus on the fact Jungkook’s waiting for you just outside the door.

It works. Almost.

You thank the driver, and then you open the car door, stepping outside into the rain. The only thing you notice is that some drops are clouding Jungkook’s glasses where he’s standing waiting for you, but he turns his back to you and walks to the door without saying anything.

It feels weird, but you still follow him. He waits for you by the door, and offers you a smile as you stop next to him.

“They shouldn’t talk to you about it,” he says as he glances towards the door. “And if someone makes a comment, I promise I’ll beat the shit out of them.”

That sounds a little excessive, and it takes you aback. You remain silent for a time, just taking in the noises and smells of the rainy world around you.

“I… are we going to hang out with them?” you ask.

You don’t realize you’ve used the word ‘we’ until Jungkook repeats it. “We can stay in my room, if you prefer.”

“I…” you trail off, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that better.”

He offers you another sweet smile, a soft smile you haven’t seen in months now. “Alright then. We can go straight up to my room.”

You thank him with the smallest voice you can muster up, and then you’re walking into his home behind him, trying to hide behind his large frame so his friends – your friends – won’t see you.

Luckily enough, the living room is empty, even though the TV is on and playing some drama you know for a fact Jo has been watching with Taehyung. You wonder where they’re hiding, but you’re thankful you don’t have to confront them as Jungkook leads you to the staircase, and then up to his room.

You only relax when you step in the cool darkness of his room. Jungkook drops your bags by the door before turning his LED lights on, and they shine purple around you. You eye his room – it’s a lot cleaner then you saw it the last time you stood in it, the night he told you about the accident. Not that it was very messy then, but it looks and smells like Jungkook has just cleaned it.

It feels homey, and it makes your eyes well up again. Jungkook has his back turned to you as he moves to his PC, before sitting in his gaming chair. He turns to look at you, tongue playing with his piercing for a few long silent seconds.

You just stay by the door, fighting the tears in your gaze.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asks, gently, his big doe eyes casting softness on his entire aura.

You dry the lone tear that’s escaped the confines of your eye with your thumb, before folding your arms on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”

He offers you a sad, knowing smile, before glancing pointedly at his bed. “You can first get comfortable.”

You don’t know why, but it makes you chuckle a little. You reckon you might be going crazy, but you can’t even bring yourself to care.

“You’re just going to sit there?” you enquire.

He shrugs. “Would you rather me sit with you?”

Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you answer, “Are you comfortable with that?”

It’s the closest you’ll go to mentioning Laura tonight. If he wants to pretend she doesn’t exist, then you’ll follow his lead.

“Of course,” he simply says, and you watch as he moves to his bed. The floor creaks as he steps closer, and you watch as he rearranges his pillows so they can serve as a backrest. He then sits on the side of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here.”

You bite at your tongue to refrain from saying something, instead nodding your head as you cross the distance between you and him.

It feels a little awkward sitting there, but Jungkook saves you by saying, “Do you feel comfortable confiding in me?”

You glance at him. His eyes are already set on you, and it makes something ache so deeply in your chest that you think you might actually be dying.

“I mean, I’d be better off talking to Jiho, uh?” You shrug your shoulders. “I… is it okay if I talk to you?”

He nods. “As I said earlier, I care about you. You can tell me anything if it can help make you feel better.”

You highly doubt it’ll help. You highly doubt revealing to the man that broke your heart that your mother hates you will help in any way. So you choose to say something else instead.

“You know my parents divorced, right?” You wait for him to give you an indication that he does, and then your gaze slides to the floor, before settling on a vague spot next to his gaming chair. “I don’t think you know the reason why. Only Jiho and her brother do, and I’ve never really told anyone else.” You steel yourself, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “My mother cheated on my dad before I was born? And uh… He’s not my dad. We learned when I was sixteen.”

A heavy silence follows your revelation. You’re too broken and exhausted to be ashamed, so you just shrug your shoulders. “That part doesn’t even matter anyway.”

You completely freeze when Jungkook grabs your uninjured hand, slowly forcing you to unclench your fist by gently pulling on your fingers. “You have the right to say it matters,” he carefully says.

You feel like falling in his arms again, but you let him play with your fingers instead. “It… it does matter. My mother has always blamed me for him leaving. Said if I never was born then he would have stayed with her.” You’re crying softly now, silently. “I think that’s the reason why she decided to kick me out today. She’s had enough.”

“I don’t have the words to convey how sorry I am that you’ve experienced that.”

You let out a broken sound, and then your crying is nothing but silent, with you sobbing as you hide your face in your hands. Jungkook wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. And he holds you as you break, as if the breaking has never scared him. You don’t know how he does it: the night you saw him break right in this room you fled like a coward.

“It hurts so bad”, you say through your tears, and the words cause a break in the sobbing. “Like, I never thought she’d go this far.”

He runs a hand on your back, waiting for you to continue.

“We barely even talk most of the time, but we got in a fight on Saturday before practice. Something about money. And it doesn’t even make sense because today she said she’ll still pay for everything, but she’s given me a month to be out of the house.”

The position in which Jungkook is holding you is a little uncomfortable, so you push on his chest, until he lets you straighten. You balk at the sight of tears on his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” you ask, forgetting all about your own pain for a few seconds.

He chuckles sadly, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I’m a sympathetic crier.”

It’s endearing. And you know the last thing you should feel when it comes to Jeon Jungkook is endearment, but you’ll allow it for tonight.

“It’s fine”, you reassure him. “I’m going to be fine.”

You say it as if he’s the one that needs comforting, and he catches on to it right away. “You’re not alone, you know?”

You blink back tears as one rolls on his cheeks. It makes him laugh awkwardly, and he quickly dries it, this time using the sleeve of his shirt.

And he has no business telling you you’re not alone. It makes you look away as you’re fighting the urge to yell at him. To yell at him for breaking your heart, to yell at him for not listening to you, for moving on so quickly.

He’s right though. You’re not alone. You have friends that are there for you, no matter how far away they feel like.

“It’s just…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “It fucking sucks that my mother hates me so bad. No matter what I do she just always hates me, and sometimes it does feel like everything is my fault.”

“It’s a natural way to feel after she’s blamed you for years”, Jungkook carefully replies, as if he too has heard the hidden meaning behind your words.

As if he too knows you’re also referring to how you lost him.

“But you know that it isn’t, right?” he adds. “People make mistakes. That’s what makes all of us human.”

“I just…” Now you break even more. You can barely breathe for a few seconds, and it feels like you’re burning inside, so badly you think all that will be left of you are charred remains. “I just wish my mother would love me? It’s so fucking hard to see happy families all around when all I’ve got is her.”

You’re talking about Jiho and her family. Jungkook probably doesn’t know, and you reckon it isn’t really relevant. Because Jiho’s family is not the only happy family in your vicinity. You see couples on walks with their kids all the time in your neighbourhood, you see some friends from high school getting married and starting their own little family. And you’d like to think your friends are your family – it does feel like it most of the time. But today it feels as if you’re back in that forgotten space where no one knows about you.

Where all that you are is the physical embodiment of breaking.

“You know, I still talk to my dad,” you add after you’ve fought a wave of panic. “But he has his own family now. He’s married, and they have a son.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s still crying. In silence, just letting his tears flow freely. His nose has turned red, and you want to reach out and ruffle his hair. You want to wipe his tears and hold him, making sure that he’ll never hurt.

But that’s not your job. So you just let out a small laugh. “Stop crying.”

He furrows his brows before chuckling. “Sorry.”

“We can stop talking about it if you want,” you suggest.

He forcefully shakes his head no a few times. “No. You need to talk, and you deserve to be listened to.”

You hate him. You wish you could show him that he’s ripped your heart from your chest, that he broke you that July night. When he chose not to listen to you, when his pride won over whatever emotions the starry night raised between you.

He’s sensed your unease, because he adds, “I’ll never do that again.”

“But why, Jungkook?” you ask, voice trembling. “Why did you do it in the first place?”

His hand moves between you as if he wants to hold you again, but his arm falls back to his side. “I was too proud. We can talk about it tomorrow?”

You scoff, but then crease your brow. Because if he’s referencing to a tomorrow, maybe he doesn’t expect you’ll have to leave again. “Why?”

“Because you’re vulnerable right now, and I think it’s better to process what happened today before we focus on what happened in the past.”

Jungkook sounds as if he’s majoring in psychology, and not photography. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Why?” you repeat, as if it’s the only word known to you.

“Because I think you still have a lot more to say about your mother. And I’d hate myself if I brought the conversation to me.”

“Jungkook…”

He shrugs. “I’m serious, I was a dick. And I don’t want to be like that anymore. So tonight we’ll figure out what we can do to fix your situation, and then we can talk some more tomorrow.” He offers you a tentative smile. It’s a little hopeful, like he wants you to stay.

And tonight, you’re foolish enough to believe you will.

“What should I do?” you ask after a while of silence. “I never thought I’d have to find a place to stay in such a short amount of time.”

He worries at his piercing, and then he’s getting up to walk to his PC setup. He turns it on, before glancing at you. “Come here.”

You hesitate, but when he moves the chair so it’s facing you, you figure it’s better if you just do as he asked. So you get up and cross the distance between you once again, before plopping down in the chair. Jungkook turns you towards the keyboard, and then he leans down to press in his password.

You catch a whiff of his detergent from so close, and maybe of some cologne, though it’s pretty faded. It distracts you from your ocean of sorrow, and you just watch him with wide eyes as he waits for the monitor to show its welcome screen.

“Why don’t you look up some apartments? Figure out what you’d like to live in.”

It’s a good suggestion, but it makes you feel infinitely insecure. “I don’t know what I’d like to live in.”       

He glances at you, offering you an encouraging smile. “Do you want a studio, or do you want your room to be separated from the rest of your living area?”

You think about it for a time. You’ve always been used to having your own room, and you’ve always liked the comfort of a closed door when you sleep at night. So you reply, “I’d like to have a room.”

He nods his head, before focusing on the monitor as he opens the web browser, and then searches for a website where you can look through listed places to rent. He puts in some filters, asking you more questions to guide the search – like your budget, if you want an office, if you need a parking spot.

You’re so thankful to have him with you right now you think you’ll cry again. You succeed at blinking the new wave of tears away though, and then you start looking at the apartments.

A whole hour later, you’ve made a list of places you’d like to go visit. Jungkook suggests to go sometime over the weekend, but with midterms coming and having to practice for nationals, you feel like you’re running out of time.

It makes panic rise in you, and Jungkook quickly gets up from where he’s been sitting on his bed. In two long strides he’s already next to you, and he turns the chair away from his monitor.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he says gently. “You’ve got a good list, and I can help by visiting some of them if you want.” He slowly nods. “That could work. I could take videos for you.”

“Most of them are on the other side of town.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I can take the bus. I can visit a couple of them on the same day too.”

When you start crying, Jungkook grabs your hand to pull you up. You don’t resist, and you let him guide you to his bed.

“Sit.”

You don’t move, instead burying your face in your hands.

He says your name gently, pulling you in yet another hug. He’s firm next to you, warm and real, and in this moment you realize you don’t want him to be gone when tomorrow comes.

But he’s right, and it’s better if you focus on figuring where to live for tonight. Already, you feel a little reassured that things will work out.

He lets you go when your tears recede, and you let out a small laugh as you notice he’s shed a couple of his own too.

“You really are a sympathetic crier,” you tease, and it makes both of you laugh some more.

“Sorry.”

His hands are still on your shoulders, and your mind chooses this moment to focus on the spot where his palms trace warm spots on you. He notices the change in your expression right away, and he lets his arms fall to his side.

“Don’t apologize,” you say, and you let your gaze drop to a random spot on his chest. Mostly because his big eyes have started feeling like a safe haven far too much. “You’d really go visit some apartments for me?”

He sits on the bed, nodding his head. “Yes, of course. Unless you’d rather go yourself, which would be totally understandable.”

You kind of do, because you know you’ll need to see the places yourself to decide which one you want to build your home in. But Jungkook could pinpoint which locations are worth visiting…

“Maybe you can visit a couple and send videos?” you suggest, even though that’s what he already said he’d do. “And you tell me which you prefer and all.”

He smiles at you, a little hesitantly. “My opinion is not important.”

He’s right, it’s not. But at the same it is, so you only shrug your shoulders. “You’re not stupid, I’m pretty sure you can tell if a place sucks.”

“Right.” He laughs a little, that childish laugh of his you haven’t heard from him since the weekend at the cottage. It stabs into your chest a little, but you reckon you’ve cried way too much tonight to be able to cry some more.

Or maybe the way his eyes are crinkling at the corners, housing hearths of happiness that shine brightly as he looks up at you… Maybe that is the true reason why you don’t feel like crying anymore.

You look away, taking a deep, steadying breath. You don’t know what good it does you, but it’s easier to think when you’re not directly looking at him.

“What’s next though?” you ask.

“A trip to Ikea?” he proposes, shrugging his shoulders. “We figure out what furniture you need, what home appliances and all of that shit.”

“My mother is letting me keep the furniture in my room.”

He nods. “Then the bedroom is going to be easy. You might want a dinner table or a couch, or maybe just a desk?”

You decide to sit next to him before replying, letting yourself think about it for a time. “It’d be nice to have a little cozy living room area.”

You don’t see it, but he’s smiling softly as he gazes at your profile. “What do you have in mind?”

“Mmh,” you let out. “Maybe a cute little coffee table, and some plants? I don’t watch TV a lot, but I feel like that’s a necessary thing in an apartment.”

He chuckles. “You don’t need to have a TV. You can save up the money for other stuff.”

You’re too drained to feel stressed about the financial aspect, but you still say, “I hope I made enough money over the summer to be able to afford all of that.”

His expression turns somber. “You can always get a part-time job to help. And you mentioned you still talk to your dad. Is your relationship good enough with him to talk about money?”

For the first time tonight, you realize there might be a chance you’ll truly make it out of this situation. And Jungkook’s words remind you that your father suggested himself that you move out of your mother’s house. Maybe he’d truly be inclined to help.

“I could try,” you say after a few seconds of thinking. “I’ll call him tomorrow, see what he thinks about this whole situation.”

Jungkook offers you an encouraging nod. “Good idea.”

As silence fills the room around you once more, you find yourself yawning. You hide it behind the back of your hand, but Jungkook still notices. He chuckles a little, and you throw him a sheepish look.

“Sorry, I’m exhausted,” you admit.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds. “As much as I feel like I still have a lot to do, I think sleeping would be better.”

“You’ll also feel better in the morning,” he says, smiling softly. “Trust me.”

You chuckle, because you don’t know if he’s right but you sure hope that he is. “Let’s hope so.” You look around, eyes settling on your bags by the door. “Is there any chance that I could take a shower?”

He’s up before you’ve even finished your sentence. “Of course. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

*****

                Jungkook has a hard time believing that you are currently sleeping in his bed behind him. He barely even dares look over his shoulder, afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. But each time he fails to resist the urge, you’re still there. Features serene in your sleep, arms wrapped around a pillow.

You told him you liked to hug something while you slept, and he made sure to tuck that piece of information in the safest corner of his brain.

When you came back from your shower, hair wet and cheeks red from the water – or maybe from crying some more – Jungkook had started a game with Taehyung. You told him that he could play while you slept, and he kept the volume to a minimum since then, though he reckons you’d probably sleep through a hurricane.

It’s unbelievable that you’re here. That you’re real, that maybe he’ll be able to fix things with you. He’s not foolish to expect he deserves to be the one that you love. He knows he’s lost that privilege a while ago. But he thinks that maybe, maybe you could be friends.

He finds a strange form of comfort in thoughts of friendship with you.

He’ll help you. He’s already decided he’ll do everything he needs to do to make sure you settle into your apartment comfortably. It’s what you deserve, and if you let him, he’ll make sure you forget about your mother.

He knew you had a bad relationship with her, but he has never suspected that it was so bad. And he didn’t tell you, won’t tell you either, but he’s glad that you’re out of that toxic environment.

Maybe it’ll allow you to grow and finally start healing. And he knows more than anyone on this Earth how much healing you deserve.

You don’t deserve any of the pain that you’ve been through.

Taehyung went to bed about twenty minutes ago, and Jungkook has just been looking at YouTube videos since then. He doesn’t want to go to sleep yet, mostly because he enjoys your presence, and he doesn’t want to have to go downstairs.

But he told you he would, so he will.

He’s not really paying any attention to the video unfolding on his monitor. As a matter of fact, all he can think of is that he understands you now, or at least he’s starting to. Starting to understand the complicated maze that is your heart, starting to know how to navigate its halls.

He can’t wait to talk to you more tomorrow. To tell you he’s not with Laura anymore, that he’s sorry for the pain he put you through. He’s anxious about it, and maybe that most of all is the reason why he doesn’t want to go downstairs.

Because there’s a high possibility that you’re just going to leave tomorrow, and he reckons he’d deserve it.

He sighs, blinking his tiredness away. He readjusts his glasses on his nose, tries to focus on the video, but he’s dozing off.

No matter how much he fights it, he knows he’ll just end up falling asleep in his gaming chair. So he turns off the computer, turning the chair around as silently as possible to glance at you. You shift a little where you’re lying, burrowing your face in the pillow.

Jungkook doesn’t think he is ready to feel the pang it causes in his heart, because he almost starts crying then. But he’s cried enough tonight – not nearly as much as you, of course. So he blinks the emotion away, and then he stands.

He moves towards his bed, walking around it to reach the empty side. He can’t resist but sit on it, and as creepy as it might be he just looks at you for a few seconds.

You’re real. You’re real and in his bed, under his comforter, like the place belongs to you. He thinks maybe it does.

Jungkook takes off his glasses, putting them down on the night table. He rubs his nose where the pads left little indents, sighing deeply before lying down. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he should just grab his pillow and go, but he wants to be in your company just a little longer.

He’s a fool, he knows he is, and he falls asleep in the next few seconds.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Soooo we're finally nearing the end of the angst are we?? I'm sorry I ended it here, this chapter used to be over 20k and I split it in two hahaha did we still like it??

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[miss-madness67]

The Law Firm (Sam one-shot)

Prompt: You start a new internship and your boss is kinda hot.

If I were to be even more nervous than I am right now, I would probably be shaking like a leaf. My hands are sweaty as I approach clumsily the entrance of the building. The first time I came here, was two weeks ago, when I had the interview for the internship position. If it wasn't for my nearly neat résumé, I might have not gotten the job. I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, and it clearly was showing on the day of the interview. 

This is the moment I've been waiting for throughout my whole career; when I get to put into practice my knowledge about the law. Even if it means starting as an intern pouring coffee for my boss. Whom I have yet to meet. In the interview, they told me that I’d be working under one of the senior lawyers to learn and observe. Then, if I do a good job, they might consider promoting me to a junior lawyer. I am really excited about the things to come. Perhaps too much because as I climb up the steps of the building in a hurry, I almost fall over. A steady hand in my arm stabilizes me enough to gather my bearings.

“Oh, thank you, I'm sorry.” I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

“No problem,” I finish dusting off my pants and look up to the voice’s owner that saved me from embarrassment.

My face lights up a deep shade of pink at the gorgeous man who stares at me. He's quite tall, possibly the tallest of the people around us. His hair is long, shaggy, and brown. His eyes are warm and inviting. This man is possibly the most handsome one I've encountered in my whole life. When I come to the realization of this fact, I notice that he is still holding my arm and, as well as me, he’s scrutinizing my appearance.

With a light chuckle, he lets go of me. “We wouldn't want you falling to the ground, would we?” He points at the coffee I hold in my hand. Luckily, it didn’t spill.

“No, of course not.”

For a sweet moment, none of us say anything. Normally, I would thank him again and leave, but there’s something pulling me to make this interaction last longer. So I introduce myself with the most confidence I can muster. He seems to like my approach because he smiles brightly at me.

“I'm Sam Winchester.” The name tries to wake something deep in my brain, but my overly restless self cannot comprehend what it is.

“Nice to meet you! Are you new here?” I don't know what prompts me to ask such a question, maybe it's a desire not to be the only one starting today in a new environment.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to go inside.

“Well, you could say that.”

“Great!” I beam at him. “That way I won't be the only one.”

He can hear the relief in my voice. “Come on, I'm sure it won't be that bad.”

I nod enthusiastically, “I know, but I always get super nervous on my first day.”

Sam smiles sympathetically. There’s something akin to hesitancy when he says: “I’m sure your boss won’t be so hard on you.”

I shrug, “I haven’t met them, but I heard they’re fairly young. Well, at least my supervisor is, I had a meeting with the big boss the other day, Bobby. He seems like a good man.”

He chuckles. “Oh, yeah, Bobby’s great… as for your supervisor, don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t be too hard on you.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. If you haven't noticed, I tend to make a fool of myself easily.” I want to add something else, there's this little voice in the back of my head that is pressuring me to ask Sam Winchester out, even though I just met him. Maybe because he's handsome, or because he seems to be kind-hearted, but I cannot shut up my thoughts. Normally, I wouldn't flirt with him after just one meeting. This isn’t a normal day, and nerves affect me almost the same way alcohol does; they give me a false sense of security and make me say things that I probably shouldn't. “So, since we’re both new, why don't we meet up for lunch?”

His eyes widen comically, but before he can answer, a voice coming from afar calls his name: “Ah, Sam!” It’s a young man wearing a pristine black suit, and he’s walking toward us. I've seen him before, I think his name is Brady. He was the one who led me into Bobby's office for the interview. “Oh, I see you met the new intern. Hi there, how are you liking it so far?”

“Hello,” I greet, “I haven't gone inside yet.” I discreetly check my watch to see that it's still early. “Sam was kind enough to help me when I almost tripped.”

“I see,” Brady nods, “Sam, huh?” The question isn’t directed towards me because he's looking at the tall man. Sam gives him a warning glance. I cannot comprehend what is happening until Brady speaks again. “Well, it's good you’ve already met your supervisor. He was promoted just yesterday. Honestly, it saves me the trouble of making introductions.”

His words render me speechless. What the fuck did he just say? Did I just flirt with my supervisor? Which is basically having the hots for my boss. Sam looks at me with an apologetic glance. I cannot meet his eyes. Brady mustn’t notice the silence his comment created because he continues: “I'm gonna head inside, see you later!”

His happy pace doesn’t falter one bit. I'm considering that maybe he was aware of what his statement would do.

“I apologize for my previous behavior… I didn't mean-”

Sam doesn't let me continue, “you didn't?” He ponders for a moment. “That's a shame, we would've had a nice time.” I can tell by the way his eyes shine and his mouth forms a gentle smile that he is not teasing me, but actually means what he's saying. “Why don’t you come by my office at 2 p.m. and then we can go grab some lunch?”

He doesn't leave room for opinions because he turns around and walks inside the building without another word. What just happened? Do I have a date with my boss? I guess this first day isn't as crappy as I thought it would be.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have & To Hold: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Warning: explanation of DID -> mentions/implications of trauma

Series Masterlist

"Well that went well." Marc mumbles to himself as he drives back to his own apartment.

"Seems like she hates us," an English accent fills his head.

"She doesn't. She's just frustrated at this whole thing."

The accented voice scoffs, "Well yeah. Imagine hearing that not only your dad is dying but he's making you marry his right hand man who's a cold blooded killer."

Marc tightens his grip on the steering wheel, "I do what I have to so we can survive. You working at the museum was getting us nowhere."

"But we were living a normal life!"

"Look at us, Steven. Look at how far we've come! That's because of me!" He's huffing as he continues the drive home. He knows the things that he's doing isn't right, but he's only trying to keep them above water. Him and his system have struggled for too long. He knows Steven tried, but it wasn't enough.

The only person who knew about his condition was your father. Marc was fronting, beating down on some guy who owed your father money. He said something that triggered Marc, that truly hit him. Not physically, but emotionally. Mentally. He tried his best to not to let it get to him, but he couldn't. He was reminded of what happened to him...them. He was reminded of her. He couldn't shake it. He retreated and Steven fronted.

Your father and the rest of his men were confused as to why Marc was suddenly speaking in an English accent and seemed a bit distressed.

"The hell?" your father gestures for two men to take Marc's place and your father pulls Marc aside, "The fuck is wrong with you, Spector?"

"O-Oh, um, right, well. It seems Marc has, uh, hidden away."

"Hidden away? But you're right here." your father looked at him confused.

"No, no. Um, bollocks, how do I say this? Uh, we have DID, dissociative identity disorder. It seems Marc was distressed about something that poor fellow," he gestures over his shoulder to the guy getting beaten to a pulp, "had said. Shook him up, which means I come forward to protect Marc in a way. It happened due to traum-anyway," Steven shakes his head, "For the time being, Marc is out of commission and you have me."

Your father looked at him in shock, "How the hell have you managed to hide this from me? You've been working for me for years now."

"We're pretty good at managing it, but that bloke really hit a nerve."

Your father snorted, "Well, can you finish this job or..?"

"Oh no. Me, I'm a pacifist. Marc does all the," Steven lightly punched the air.

Your father pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fan-fucking-tastic." he let out a deep sigh, "Go back to the estate and wait for me there."

"Right. Sorry 'bout all this." Steven gave

He promptly got in a car and made his way back to the estate.

____________________________

Your father had requested your presence the next day. After a meeting with his lawyer, he gestured you in. Now you two are sitting on his couch, sipping a Jack and Coke.

"So how'd dinner go?" he asks you with a smirk.

You cock a brow at him, "Marc didn't tell you anything?"

He shrugs, "Just said that it went well."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "I wouldn't put it that way."

"Sunshine, did you give him a hard time?" he looks at you with a warning tone.

"No. Yes. Maybe?" You turn your body more towards him, "Dad, I was and still am a little upset about this whole thing! I don't get a choice here!"

He waves you off, "Honestly, more of a formality. It's not like I'm asking you two be in love and have kids. I just want to make sure you're both alright once I pass."

You scoff, "Marc doesn't need help, dad. He doesn't need anyone to care for him."

"Well it's nice to have a companion to support you when you're having a rough time," he sets his glass down on a nearby table, "Sunny, listen," he takes one of your hands in his, "I know you're a big girl, but I'm just worried something might happen once I'm gone. Whether it's another gang or just normal life struggles, the only person I can trust that will look after you is Marc. You don't have to love him. You two can have your own companions if that's what you want. But you two marrying each other ensures that you'll be okay."

Sure. Fine. Okay. You get it. Your dad loves you and cares about your safety, but-" But what if we divorce after you...you know?"

He pats your hand, "I have some things in place for that."

"Which are...?" you try to push him to explain but he shakes his head, "That won't be revealed until I'm dead."

You look at him deadpan, "You can't be serious."

He smirks at you, "Sunshine, I didn't get here by not taking things seriously. You know that." he stands and bends over to press a kiss to your head, "Marc will be arriving soon to take you to your charity meeting."

You look at him confused, "Why?"

"So you can get to know each other more," he waves at you, "Love you and enjoy the rest of your day."

You down the rest of your drink and stand from the couch, "Thanks. Love you too," you murmur as you collect your things and exit your dad's office.