#and the child is desperately trying to get their approval despite already being so low in life

[cryptidcorners]

i honestly think that Derek's relationship with his mom is very one sided. I honestly assume she neglected him and he had to deal with the trauma of his dad all on his own.

The only reason he's scamming people is to get attention from his mom; hell, he even dyes his hair to try and make himself look "good enough", but ultimately I really don't think she cares about him. I have a feeling he knows that too but he's still holding onto the idea if he just tries hard enough he'll probably be happy again.

[smuggsy]

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 3)

   (Warnings- mentions of fighting)

This is quite the view, you thought to yourself as Din showed you the correct way to knock a blade from an opponent’s hands.  It was another day on this strange planet.  At the moment, you were experiencing your first training session with Din in the grassy field with the child watching in amusement from a small hill.  

   He went through the movements slowly so you could get the basic idea before letting you try.  You tried not to dwell on how attractive Din was in this situation and instead focus on what he was trying to show you.  It was difficult because you were seeing the many things you admired him for all at once.  You saw his strength and sturdiness while he demonstrated all the different ways to incapacitate an attacker.  His patience and intelligence shone through in his careful verbal instruction.  And yet, his tenderheartedness was there underneath it all because his motivation for these lessons was to keep you safe.

   Despite this, you absorbed every word.  You were able to answer “yes” when he asked if you understood.  He stepped back, folding his arms across his armored chest. 

   “Show me.”

   You got into the stance he had just shown you before doing the hand motion that you’d use if someone was pointing a blade in your direction.  “Like this?”

   Din gave a nod.  “Let’s see it in action.”  He held the blade (sheathed for safety reasons) in an outstretched arm, and you quickly moved to use the hand motion, effectively knocking the blade away and grabbing his wrist. “Good.”

   You were pleased to hear the approval in his voice.  It even made you smile as you released his wrist.  Din tipped his helmet to peer at you, and you forced the grin off your face.  This was serious.  Definitely not the time to be getting all warm and fuzzy over one move done right.

   From over on a grassy hill, the child babbled in fascination and brought his hands together in an amused clap.  You gave a little wave and turned back to Din. 

   “Question,” you spoke up.  “Back when those weirdos were after me...One of them grabbed my shoulders from behind, and that’s how I got trapped.  Is there any way to get out of a hold like that?”

   “Yes.”  He turned his back to you.  “Go ahead and try it on me.”

   Suddenly, something twisted in your chest as you lifted your arms to rest them on his beskar-covered broad shoulders.  You had already practiced a few techniques with Din before, but this required more close contact.  Warm hands rested on cool metal for only a few seconds before he spun around, arm stretching to wrap around both of yours and trap them.  He tightened his hold, locking your arms against his side with no way of pulling away.  His visor found your eyes again.

   “Wow, that was... impressive,” you said, struggling to keep your balance while he kept you in the hold. Part of you liked being so close, but it also felt silly to be struggling to stay on your feet.

   “This move takes speed, and you need to follow through.”  He released you.  “But I think you can do it.”

   “I guess we’ll see.”  You turned around, and you felt two gloved hands on your shoulders.  You quickly spun around, but you brought the wrong arm up and around.  “Oh no,” you muttered, realizing the mistake.  “Sorry, let me try again.”  Din nodded and started from square one with his hands on your shoulders again.  This time, you were ready.  You turned on him, arm extending and looping around both of his as you pulled them against your side with a grunt.

   Din stayed like that with his arms in the hold.  You had never seen him look so vulnerable.  Still, you knew he was anything but.  Deep down, you knew that he was strong enough to break the hold.  Those armored arms of his could turn it around on you in an instant.  But he let you for the sake of your training and safety.  And strangely enough, that moment was what got you flustered.

   “I-I, um…”  You relaxed your arm so he could pull away.  

   “You did very well, especially for a second try.”  His visor was staring in your direction again, unwavering, as his gloved hands rested on his hips.  The impressed tone in his voice was unmistakable, which made you even more flustered.  “I don’t think it will take long for you to learn.  I-”  He paused.  “What is it?”

   “It’s nothing,” you said, forcing your best casual smile. Finally, you sighed and admitted, “I’m just getting nervous, I guess.”

   He tipped his helmet to one side, remaining silent for several heartbeats.  “You don’t have to be nervous.”  Din took a few steps forward so that he stood directly in front of you.  He took your hand in his, bringing it up between the two of you and running a thumb over your knuckles.  “It’s just me.”  

   You wanted to laugh at that. Yeah, sure.  Just him.  But you were so stunned by the gesture that you could only gaze back at him with wide eyes.  Din gazed back without another word.  You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him.  Something.  But there was no face to kiss.  He hadn’t initiated anything, and you weren’t about to try and take his helmet off!  Your eyes searched the face of his helmet, travelling to the shoulders you had your hands on not that long before.  In the heat of the moment, you did the only thing you could think of.  You wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled yourself in to bury your face in the material between the shoulder and chestplate.  You remained there, eyes shut tight in embarrassment.  You almost regretted it the second you gave in.

   To your surprise, strong arms quickly wrapped around you, almost desperate.  They practically crushed you against his chestplate, and his helmet slowly pressed against the side of your head in the embrace.  His breathing had picked up, as yours did.  It felt so right to be held by him like that. By the way his arms were set around you like the steel he wore, you figured he felt the same way.  You hung onto him tighter and tighter, as if holding on for dear life.

   “_________,” he said your name in a low voice, almost a sigh.

   “Din,” you murmured.  Realizing your mistake, you hurriedly added, “I’m sorry.  I overheard your name when we were at-”

   “I know.  It’s okay,” he assured you softly.  “Just don’t use it around anyone else.”

   “Alright.”

   He pulled away only slightly, keeping you in his arms as he looked at you with his visor.  You offered a small smile and reached up to gently trace a finger along the one patch of skin on his neck that was visible below the edge of the helmet.  His breathing hitched, but then his tone sounded less enthusiastic as he said, “__________, you know I still can’t…”

   “I understand,” you moved to place your palm on the side of his helmet.  Though you had reached a new level of intimacy with the Mandalorian, he was still bound by the creed to keep the helmet on.  And you understood that.  “You don’t have to worry about that with me.  I never expected you to change who you are.”  Din stared in silence for a number of seconds, and you bit your lip.  “What are you thinking?” you asked.

   “I’m thinking about how...beautiful you are.”

   You grew flustered at that, averting your gaze from his visor.  “Oh.”

   Suddenly, you felt a small tug, and you glanced down to see the child at your feet looking up at you with a little smile on his face.  His eyes travelled to Din and back to you as he cooed, making you laugh and Din chuckle.  You scooped him up in your arms, pressing a kiss to his little head.

   “I just have one question…” 

   Din turned his attention back to you.  “Yes?”

   “What color are your eyes?”

Part 4

[kuuderekweenfics]

Canción de Cuna

Two in one week? I’m on a roll! (Actually, I was just late to post my last fic, so I thought I’d hit ya with a double whammy.)

Well, if you wanted an emotional roller coaster, you’re in for a real treat.

Because the turmoil is strong in this one. This is a follow up to my previous Dabi fic, although you don’t necessarily have to read that one to enjoy this piece of work. 

Now that I’m three fics in, I want to start opening up the polls to you lovely readers. I don’t necessarily have to stay on the MHA/BNHA train. I’m free to venture into other territories.

I’ve been thinking about maybe a Levi from AoT/SnK fic. But we’ll see. :)

Anywaayyyssssss, back to the point of the matter:

Dabi x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: non-con, and angst sex, as well as psychological abuse and trauma. A lot of adult themes here, people. You’ve been warned. (18+)

Manga Spoilers! Not anything that hasn’t already been put out there, but if you are only watching the show, beware!

El que no sabe de amores, llorona,

no sabe lo que es martirio.

(He who does not know love, weeping woman,

does not know martyrdom.)

Tápame con tu reboso, llorona,

por que me muero de frío.

(Cover me with your shawl, weeping woman,

Because I’ll die of cold.)

He has red hair.

Your child has red hair and you’re not entirely sure you’re seeing this right because, boy, is it red. 

Like brick red. 

Like fire-truck red. 

You blink, rub your eyes, then blink again.

Not a trick of the light. It’s still very red.

Well, at least he’s no longer bald.

You lay him down in his crib, a melodic, yet cracked, lullaby stringing its way from your lips as sleep attempts to overtake you. You run a finger against his puffy cheek, and watch him breath silently. 

Up, down. Up down. 

Sometimes, you stare at his chest for several minutes at a time to make sure he’s still breathing. To make sure he’s still there. He’s a miracle; a glowing ember in the dark void from which he was borne. 

For weeks after your discovered pregnancy, you contemplated aborting. He was a product made not from love but fear. No one would blame you. But the day you heard the whirred sound of a quick and steady heartbeat, your love became boundless. And thus, you gave birth to your baby boy. 

His red hair must come from his paternal genes.

You learned a lot about his father recently. Although, you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter since he hijacked the entire broadcasting network to air out his family’s dirty laundry. If he hadn’t broken you over a year ago, you’d probably feel bad about what he went through. It sure explains a lot of those inner demons he has. 

A small part of you almost wishes that his child inherits some of that apparent intelligence he has before deciding against it altogether. You want him to be nothing like that monster. He will be a good boy. The thought of the great man he will surely become etches a smile on your face. 

You scan any signs of distress before heading back to bed. If you can manage to get in an hour of undisturbed sleep, you think you’ll be able to keep the patisserie running for a whole day tomorrow. While money isn’t necessarily tight, being a single, new mother in a bustling metropolis can be expensive. Not long after your eyes close are you alerted by a high pitched coo. He’s not crying. But he’s awake. And being awake equates to needing attention. 

You don’t register the shadow standing in the corner of his room as you make your way in, your eyes closed and only your deeply ingrained memory of the layout of the nursery to guide you to his crib. It is when your fingers meet an empty bed, growing cold from the lack of a body, do your eyes finally fly open. 

Another coo raises the hair on the back of your neck. This one is deeper, much calmer. You crank your head. Nausea creeps up, pinching every nerve in your stomach with a ferocity that leaves you quaking.

You shouldn’t be surprised to find Dabi there. Part of you had always known that he may come back. Out of sheer curiosity or some bitter resentment, perhaps. But you desperately locked the thought into the depths of your mind, hoping that he might possibly be arrested, or eradicated before then. 

He holds your child, his child, gently, a whisper of a smile almost odd against his otherwise rough demeanor. He is slightly illuminated by the blue hues coming from a small night light. Cerulean eyes flicker at you before settling back down at the small human who sleeps soundly in his arms. 

Your breathing is forced and shallow. Have you blinked? The stinging pulse at the corner of your eyes is a good indicator that maybe you should. But you don’t dare to. Not when he’s around.

“I’m surprised you kept him,” he starts, his low voice rumbling through your core. “It didn’t take long for my hounds to find you. I thought you’d at least put in a bit more effort to hide.”

The silence rings in your ears. You’re not sure if he wants a response or if this is just another villainous monologue to add to his collection. But as the seconds crawl, slow but steady, your confidence grows. You clear your throat. Did your tongue always feel this dry and heavy? You grip the crib with white knuckles. An anchor for the fury you’re about to unleash.

“You changed your hair.” 

It comes out small and tired. Of all the things you could have said, all the icy venom you could have spat at him, you decided to comment on his white hair. His. Hair. You mentally plead for a do-over, as if the earth would spin backward to take the last minute and give you another opportunity to rain hellfire. 

He smirks at you, reading your inner turmoil, but decides to drop the matter. “What have you named the twerp?”

You tell him. He nods a bit, and you wonder if it’s a mark of approval as he walks toward the crib. He leans forward to gingerly place the baby back in and you feel the tension in your body cave, your rigid muscles releasing almost sorely.

Another pregnant silence.

“Sometimes, his eyes scare me,” you admit finally, chipping away at the stifling quiet. “Not because I believe he’s capable of ever doing what you did; what you do...but because they look just like yours. And then I see you.”

He doesn’t turn to you. Doesn’t react. He keeps his attention on his child, and, for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s heard you at all. 

“Do you regret it?”

Do you regret being there that day? Do you regret not calling for backup? Do you regret keeping your child? His question can apply to so many things, but the answer to all of them remains the same. 

You look down at the sleeping boy and finally answer, “Never.”

You hadn’t noticed he closed the distance until his hand was pressed against your lower back and your lips met. 

Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. Your heart thunders in your throat as you push him away. But his other hand wrenches your arm down and he pulls you in, deepening the kiss.

A sob escapes your trembling lips. You use your free hand to grab hold of his jaw, the skin thick and scarred, and shove him from you. You reach for the baby, your alarm blaring for you to get out, to create any distance you can from the danger before you, but his arms wrap around your waist before you can attempt your escape. 

“Don’t do this,” you plead, hoping the fragment of kindness he had shown toward his son would extend to you. 

He rests his forehead in the crook of you neck and holds you tighter. You can feel him shake behind you. Is he crying? Is he remorseful?

The blood drains from you as you hear it: laughing. Softly at first, a quiet, tired chuckle cutting into the dark, turning into loud cackle which startles your son into a tearful wail. 

You reach out in a feeble endeavor to comfort him. Your hand is pushed back down by your captor. 

“He’ll be fine. I think we should focus our efforts on giving the little tyke a playmate, what do you think?” He growls into your ear. “Maybe we can try for a girl this time. She’d be pretty, like her mom.”

You swallow the hot bile back down. It’s so unfair; him speaking to you as if he’s ever the doting father, as if he was around during the most crucial moments of your pregnancy, or in the months thereafter. He threw away his opportunity of being a family man long before he met you. Not that you wanted him there at all. Another child wouldn’t change him, wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t, had never wanted, a family with him.

You don’t know what made him decide on you. What made him believe you were the perfect candidate to bear his children? You failed at having a useful quirk for power-breeding.  You were a shell among the rest of them. How long had he wandered along the shore, surpassing all others before reaching down into the sand and picking you? 

He breathes you in, the mere scent of you encouraging his cock to harden and rub into your ass. How did you get to this point? What could you have said differently? It goes without saying that you have no means to fight. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and bites down on your shoulder. You hate that he elicits a shiver in response. 

You lean forward on your own, letting him rut against you as you take a pacifier and place it into your son’s mouth. 

You hum a lullaby as your shorts and panties are pulled down and fall in a heap on the floor. 

You stroke his cheek as Dabi stroke his length against you, the precum coating your folds and the tip just barely grazing your clit.

You choke down the sob as he claims you, for the second time, just as the boy slowly submerges into another warm embrace of sleep.

He grips your shoulder and drills into you, and despite not having any form of stimulation, your arousal awakens hot and electric with each pulse. You close your eyes in a vain attempt to shield your son from seeing you this way: broken and needy. 

But he’s fallen back asleep. No, what you’re really shielding yourself from is the shame enveloping you as your legs squeeze together and your back arches. Because you want Dabi to hit that spot; you want him to pound into that button that shoots a wave of pleasure up your spine and into your skull. And as his thick cock finally strikes home one, two, three times, and your pussy becomes a soppy mess, you’ve realized he’s found it. 

You let out a raspy moan. This only invites him to reach over and rub your clit.

How embarrassing. How unbelievably mental you are. You bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough to taste a metallic tanginess. You just hope he decides against his previous notions and pulls out at the last moment. 

But It’s different from before. He holds you close, bending down and grabbing the crib’s railing with one hand and tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear with the other before bringing it back down again to play with your bundle of nerves as he whispers obvious fantasies against your cheek. 

Teaching his son how to control his quirk.

Learning how to braid his daughter’s hair.

The tears fall freely from you now. Because each dream sounds so perfect. So delightful. But that’s all it will ever be. A dream, wrapped nicely with a polka-dot bow. Because Dabi cannot be the man of your dreams. Not when he’s stolen so much from you already. Not when he is devoid of any basic human decency. He licks your tears and fears away and plants a sloppy kiss against your clammy forehead as he pounds almost endearingly into your tight, obedient cunt. 

And maybe that alternate reality is how you let yourself fall deeper into the abyss of want. You mask moans with whimpers to deny the immense pleasure you feel. Each squelch, squelch, penetrating the night’s stillness in sequence with your bodies. Cruelly tethered to one another until death. 

He growls, signaling his close release. His hand latches onto your hip as his thrusts become erratic. His balls, heavy and begging for release, slap up against you. You let out an open-mouthed gasp, closing your eyes as you hone in on that feeling that sends you deep, so very deep, into oblivion. 

Unlike the first time, you both cum together, your groans a harmony in the night.

You don’t remember what came next. Either from lack of sleep, mental exhaustion, or both, you fall into a deep slumber. You could have also fainted. But trying to figure it out now was simply futile.

Only, you’re not sure how you made it into bed, or how you opened the blinds to let the sun shine brightly through the window. And you’re not quite sure how long you’ve slept either. But you snap back to reality and run to the baby’s room, only to see not one, but two sleeping figures swaying back and forth on the rocking chair.

You can almost hear the crack, crack, cracking as you surrender, the fracture in your mind severe and unmendable.

You walk quietly, reaching for Dabi’s shoulder. His eyes flutter open, and immediately close as your lips meet, tender and sweet.

And you allow yourself hope, just for a bit longer, that maybe, just maybe, it may not be so bad after all. 

[amedetoiles]

pls tell me your thoughts about the potential for wwx-jgy friendship? i just like the idea of them having similar experiences as like: poor street kid/poor brothel kid, would kill god for the people they care about, made of knives, incredibly charming and personable. i feel like they could have Seen each other and understood each other really well, and like, things would have ended up better maybe?

Gosh. Ok, so full disclosure before I answer this: I am really not the most sympathetic towards Jin Guangyao. I am just not a fan of him in any universe where he is complicit if not directly responsible for the death of his own child to protect his own reputation (up for debate, but nonetheless Jin Rusong fucking deserved better), gaslights his wife / half-sister into committing suicide, and has a monologue meltdown about how difficult his life has been to his own orphaned and bullied nephew whose childhood he had a hand in destroying. I am glad he got kicked down the same stairs twice, and I am glad Nie Huaisang beat him at his own game. All in all to say that my thoughts on him might be colored by this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But let’s get into this! Jin Guangyao is a great character foil to Wei Wuxian. The circumstances of his life that shaped his morality (or lack thereof) and the choices he makes in response are tragic and understandable. I definitely think Jin Guangyao could have been a different person, a better person, if his father wasn’t such a trash heap, if society hadn’t been such a gigantic dick about his mother, and if he hadn’t needed to claw his way into achieving everything he did. Wei Wuxian says himself that he doesn’t consider Jin Guangyao a villain.

However, I hesitate to say that had they struck up a friendship, Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian could have understood each other easily and that this could have changed things. Don’t get me wrong! I can definitely see how influence could have been made where a friendship between these two would have fixed it all. Or at least improved things. Especially in association with Wei Wuxian, Jiang Yanli’s nonjudgemental kindness (under the condition that nobody hurts her little brothers) would have been extremely refreshing to Meng Yao.

But I also think the differences between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao would have made it difficult for them to truly understand and agree with each other. And it’s these differences that ultimately decide each of their fates.

I will try to organize my thoughts on this. First, the discussion of privilege.

1. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are not on the same privilege level.

While both Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are scorned in some way, shape, or form for their parents’ statuses, Wei Wuxian is still the son of cultivators. He is still the son of Cangse sanren, a disciple of a famed immortal. His pedigree and legacy are undeniable. Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, is the unwanted son of a lecherous sect leader and a sex worker. In a society where hierarchy and reputation is everything, this places Jin Guangyao in an entirely different pedigree in a way that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to understand.

Wei Wuxian is also brought into the Jiang sect and given a chance to cultivate at an early age where Jin Guangyao doesn’t. Wei Wuxian can punch the heir of a rich sect leader, leading to the dissolution of his sister’s political marriage alliance, and still get nothing but a slap on the wrist because boys will be boys. He can interrupt important post-war celebration dinners to tell that same rich sect leader to fuck off with his marriage proposal and then promptly skip away without any real consequences. He can accidentally send his friend’s little brother into a murderous rampage, and his own little brother will apologize on his behalf and offer to pay reparations.

Wei Wuxian may not have the same privilege as sect heirs like Jiang Cheng or Lan Wangji, but he has far more privilege than Jin Guangyao and Su She. This is important because it is this privilege that Wei Wuxian sacrifices later in order to the protect the Wens. I am not saying Wei Wuxian doesn’t suffer. He does, a truly horrendous amount, but even without his golden core, even when his self-worth is at an all-time low, he is still supported and protected by his status in the Jiang sect until he gives it up to do the right thing. Despite Lan Xichen and the Nies, Jin Guangyao doesn’t have this same kind of backing.

(With that being said though, Jin Guangyao does become Chief Cultivator, so there is only so far one can fall back on their disadvantages in society when they have already reached the top. Being marginalized is not an excuse to be a jackass to your nephew whose parents you had a hand in killing, just saying.)

One can argue that had Jin Guangyao been raised in the Jiang sect while Wei Wuxian continued to scrape for food on the streets, their outlook on life would have been completely different. But even taking into account Jiang Yanli’s overwhelmingly positive influence on a young Meng Yao, I am still inclined to disagree because of my next point.

2. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are fundamentally different in how they respond/cope with public gossip and ridicule.

Wei Wuxian, for the most part, lets these comments roll off his back. This is not to say he doesn’t care or that they don’t affect him. They clearly do, and his actions, his self-perception, and his increasingly arrogant bravado as the story progresses reflect the deluge of verbal abuse he’s face with, largely at the hands of Madam Yu. But he copes by being loud, by being talented, by becoming even more outrageous and more unorthodox the more people criticize him. So what if people don’t approve? So what if people look down on his father and gossip about his mother’s supposed relationship with Jiang Fengmian? As long as he is true to himself and his moral convictions, he can walk this dark single plank road alone and without regrets.

Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, desperately and reverently wants to be included. He wants to be accepted, to be liked. He wants to be in the room where it happens. He takes every single comment to heart, carries every disdainful remark on his back like an open scar. He is both someone who loves and respect his mother and who hates her for the constant shadow she casts over him and his place in society. He will build a Guanyin statue in her likeness, in her honor. He will wear a hat because she once told him that a gentleman always wears hats. And yet, he will spend everyday of his life trying to rid himself of his connection to her.

Where Wei Wuxian recklessly cares too little about appearances and what people think of him, Jin Guangyao cares far too much. Wei Wuxian doesn’t give one flying iota about politics, about status and acclaim. He was perfectly fine with being a lotus farmer on a mountain. Even if Wei Wuxian had never been taken in by the Jiangs (and managed to survive the streets), I genuinely think he would still have been largely the same – a child who is kind, open, curious, and holds few grudges. I am not sure I can say that even under the best circumstances, Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have . It destroys him. .

This ties into my last point.

3. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao have completely opposing priorities and beliefs on the worth of others.

Wei Wuxian will throw himself in front of anybody if his moral compass tells him it is the right thing to do. He is a genuinely open-hearted person who cares deeply about others and thinks it is morally corrupt to do nothing when something can be done. He is idealistic and optimistic, oftentimes to a fault. Jin Guangyao, as a result of his childhood and circumstances, is incredibly pessimistic and cynical. It is every person for themselves out here. The world is a crooked shitshow, conflict is inevitable, and he has to come out on top no matter what.

This leads to him sacrificing pretty much everyone in his life in order to maintain his own reputation. Like I do genuinely think Jin Guangyao truly cared about Jin Ling! I think he also in his own way cared about Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Nie Huaisang! But I also think a large portion of that is because he enjoyed how they made him feel. He enjoyed being liked and being depended upon. And we see clearly what happens when those benefits cease. Whereas Wei Wuxian would rather throw himself off a cliff than hurt any more people he loves, Jin Guangyao would rather push his own people off the cliff if it means his reputation and appearance remain intact. And if that’s not possible, he would rather set them on fire along with him.

This has become an entirely too long rambling essay to say that while Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao share similar experiences, their primary priorities are so different and opposing that it is hard for me to come up with a way in which a friendship between them could have changed things. Sure, Jin Guangyao could have benefited from Wei Wuxian’s unabashed and staunch defense of his friend. Anyone who talks shit about Jin Guangyao’s mother will get punched in the face, and it would maybe have made Jin Guangyao feel less alone in the world, less like he only had himself and his manipulative ways to seek acceptance.

But what happens when Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian runs around causing social and political uproar to do what he thinks is right? Is Jin Guangyao going to help and support him, or is he going to throw Wei Wuxian under the bus to protect his own reputation? Personally, I think the importance he places on public perception would ultimately be too great. It destroys his relationships, and it destroys him.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Fifteen - Learning to Pray

Author’s Note: Thank you for your comments, your reblogs, your likes, and for the times you reach out to me and make me feel less alone. Thank you for sharing your time with me. Thank you for giving my voice a friendly ear. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. And here’s to the next year!

5 AM

“Call me when you get there.” He helped her put her coat on.

“The moment I land.” She assured him.

“And whenever I text you, you text back immediately.”

“Victor…” She stared at him, annoyed.

“Andrea.” He stared back.

“I promise.” She nodded, defeated. “If I can’t call or text right away, I’ll ring you once.”

Victor pulled his wife into his arms, reluctant to let her leave his grasp. He was never a man to trust his feelings, always preferring facts, but there was a pit in his stomach he couldn’t explain. He felt uneasy, knowing Lucien was living in Creekwood. However, he also knew the scientist was under heavy surveillance, and the chances of running into Andrea or even knowing she was there were fairly slim. Besides, Andrea would spend most of her time in hotel rooms and offices, and she wouldn’t be alone. Lucien wouldn’t be able to get to her without being noticed. Victor tried to put his uneasy feeling aside.

“It’s just for two days. I’ll be safe, I promise.” She looked up to him with loving eyes.

“Make sure you are.” He almost scolded. “Have a safe flight.” He kissed her, wishing somehow the kiss would magically make her stay. “I love you, my light.”

“I love you too, handsome.” She lovingly ran her hand over his chest. “Have fun with Owen. Send him my love.”

Right, Owen, he thought as he saw the door close behind her. Two days with Owen, just the two of them. The pit in his stomach only grew. Ignoring it, he walked into the bathroom to take his morning shower.

7 AM

After he got ready, it was time to wake his son up. He knocked softly on Owen’s door, opening it to find the boy still asleep, holding his Ant-Man action figure. Victor found the movie positively deplorable, but the superhero that could command insects and be as small as one fascinated the boy.

“Owen.” He brushed his red curls, that reminded him so much of his wife. “Time to wake up.”

The boy swiftly sat on the bed, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

“Where’s Andy?” It was the first thing Owen asked.

“She left early this morning. Told me to send you her love.” Victor picked up the clothes Andrea had prepared the night before from the dresser. “Brush your teeth and wash your face, so I can get you dressed.”

“I can do it on my own.” The boy offered.

“Andrea always gets you dressed.” Victor crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“But I can do it on my own.” The boy looked down, afraid to face his adoptive father. “You don’t have to do it.”

Victor wanted to argue, tell him he should do all the things Andrea did, that he was his father just as much as Andrea was his mother. But the boy was already uncomfortable, he didn’t want to add to his uneasiness. So, feeling uneasy himself, he handed the child his clothes, turning to the door.

“I’ll prepare breakfast, then. Meet me in the kitchen.”

Victor was just finishing flipping the pancakes when Owen appeared at the kitchen, his curls orderly and shiny, impeccably dressed with the clothes he was given… until Victor looked at his shoes. The boy had tied his shoelaces around his ankles, securing them with what seemed to be two single knots.

“Owen, what happened to your shoelaces?” He came closer, inspecting the knots.

“I don’t know how to tie them…” Owen’s lips quivered. “Andy ties them for me.”

“Well, we need to fix that. You look like a homeless person with your shoes like that.” Victor joked.

And he dearly wished he wouldn’t have. Owen took his words way too seriously and broke down crying.

“I’m sorry!” He sobbed. “I’m sorry I did this wrong, but I’m going to fix it, I’ll wear something else! Please don’t be mad!”

“It’s alright, I’m not angry.” Victor kneeled next to his son. “You don’t need to cry, Owen, nothing is wrong.”

The child looked at him expectantly, a few remaining tears falling from his big brown eyes.

“Would you like me to teach you?” Victor was desperate to get his son’s trust. Maybe this could help.

“Yes, please.” Owen moved closer, and Victor’s heart filled with hope.

“Alright, so…” Victor untied the boy’s shoelaces. “You tie them with a single knot, like this. And then you take one shoelace and make a loop, like this.”

“Andy calls it a bunny ear.” Owen offered.

“Alright, a bunny ear then.” Victor corrected.

“I like your way better.” Owen spoke again. “Don’t tell her, but calling it a bunny ear is silly. I’m not a baby.”

“Right.” Victor smiled at him. “You are a young man now, we should call it a loop. So, you make two loops with the shoelaces and you tie them like this.” Victor lifted his hands, showing him the result. “Would you like to try the other one?”

After a while and under Victor’s advice and supervision, Owen tied his other shoe by himself, making Victor’s heart swell with pride. Owen was bright and hardworking. Should he keep these qualities, he would be successful when he grew up.

“I did it!” Owen beamed at him.

“Well done.” Victor praised him, ruffling his curls. “And you got dressed all by yourself too. Good job, Owen.”

“Thank you for teaching me.” Owen pulled Victor’s hand as he got up.

“No need to thank me.” He felt himself blush. “Let’s go get breakfast before we get late.”

12:45 PM

At lunchtime, he wondered if his wife had remembered to eat. She would probably be too busy to notice the time, even if she was hungry. Just in case, he called her.

“Hey, I was just about to call you.” She answered with a perky voice. “I’m just leaving for lunch.”

“How is it going?”

“I’m done with it already. It turns out the assistant was inserting the data incorrectly.” Victor heard her frustrated sigh. “Idiots.”

Was he rubbing off on his wife? The thought made him chuckle.

“So you’re done? You could go straight to Cooper’s in the afternoon and return tonight.”

“I might as well give them some training since I’m here.” By the tone of her voice, Victor could almost picture the annoyed look on her face. “Besides, it’s raining heavily here, I don’t feel like driving anywhere in this weather.”

“Stay put if you don’t feel it’s safe, then. Cancel with Cooper if you need to.” At least she was being precautious. That eased his mind a little.

“It’s ok, the forecast says the weather will improve tomorrow.” She downplayed it. “How did it go with Owen?”

“Very well.” Victor smiled. “I taught him how to tie his shoelaces. He did it on his own.”

“Really?” Andrea paused. “Damn, I wish I were there to see it. It’s ok, I’ll congratulate him tonight when we video chat.”

“9:30 pm?”

“It’s a date.” He heard her smile. “Ok, I’m going for lunch. There’s this restaurant across the river I want to try.”

“Text me when you’re back at the company.” He paused, missing her already. “I love you.”

“I will. And I love you too.”

Victor had lunch in his office, moping about the fact that he was eating on his own, instead of with his wife. It was uncanny how he had been so used to being alone for so long, and now it was pure torture. In two years, Andrea had changed his habits completely.

3:20 PM

The afternoon started well, and Victor felt on a productive roll, concluding meeting after meeting smoothly. Andrea’s team did impeccable work managing the investments, and very little was required from him, except his approval on some documents. He was starting another meeting when his phone rang, the principal from Owen’s school calling, asking him to come pick his son immediately.

Victor bolted to the car, his mind focusing on Owen alone. He knew he wasn’t hurt, they had told him as much, but he got a call from the principal himself, so it surely was serious. As he drove, he dialed Andrea’s number.

You have reached Andrea Lee, I am not available right now. Please leave a message after the signal, and I will call you back as soon as possible.

“Did you forget to charge your phone again?” Victor scolded, annoyed. “I’m on my way to Owen’s school. He got himself into trouble. The principal wants to talk to me personally.” He sighed. “I don’t know what happened, I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Call me back when you hear this.”

He headed straight to the principal’s office, finding Owen, sitting outside, his head low.

“What happened? Is everything alright?” Victor kneeled in front of the boy, studying his expression.

Owen looked at him, a somber expression on his face, but didn’t say a word. Suddenly, the door to the principal’s office opened. A man in his fifties, with grey hair and a thick mustache, came to Victor, his arm extended for him to shake.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lee, my name is Louis Sawyer, I’m the Crestview School Principal. Please come in.” The principal turned to the boy with an indifferent tone. “Owen, you sit here. We won’t take long.”

“I’ll be right back.” Victor touched Owen’s shoulder, as to reassure him.

“First, Mr. Lee, I would like to apologize for removing you from your daily affairs so abruptly.” The principal started as they both sat down. “I’m certain you are a very busy man and have more pressing matters to attend to, so I won’t keep you for long.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“Hmm.” The principal cleared his throat. “There is no simple way to say this, so I’ll cut to the chase. Owen’s stole the classroom’s geode.”

“Geode?” Victor kept his composure, despite his shock. “Do you know for a fact Owen did this?”

“After a backpack search, we found the item with Owen’s belongings.”

Victor didn’t retort, his mind going over the facts. This wasn’t anything like what Owen would do, he was the kind of child that would ask if he could get a bottle of water. Something wasn’t right. Victor couldn’t believe his boy, always so sweet and considerate, would do such a thing.

Observing Victor’s silence, the principal gained a renewed confidence, his tone showing a concealed disdain.

“Thievery is something gravely frowned upon in Crestview. We will turn a blind eye this time, out of respect for you and your wife, and the generous support you provide this institution. Nonetheless, I feel obliged to inform you that, should this behavior reoccur, we will need to take heavier punitive measures, such as suspension, or in worst cases, definitive removal of the student. Taking in consideration your child’s background, we advise perhaps the involvement of a specialist. Maybe a more clinical eye would help in this particular situation.”

Victor felt his blood boil, but kept listening. Mistaking Victor’s silence with weakness, the principal couldn’t contain a slightly sly smile, and resumed his righteous speech.

“It is our understanding that you and your wife are successful and educated people, so it’s a certainty for us that you provide this child with stellar parenting. However, it is also our understanding that Owen comes from a foster home, and is probably the spawn of a dysfunctional family. It is possible that in both these experiences Owen may have taken up… less refined habits.”

Victor took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He was determined to show this despicable nobody his place.

“Mr. Sawyer, it is my understanding that all the classrooms have cameras installed for the students’ protection, is that correct?”

“Absolutely, we care deeply for our students' safety.” The man shifted in his chair.

“So I assume that, since you summoned me here, out of a very important meeting like you previously stated, to accuse my son of thievery, you have done so after checking today’s recording of the camera in his classroom, and you are about to present me with hard evidence.” Victor kept his voice serene, although he wanted nothing more than to punch the bastard.

“Well-”

“Accusing someone of something as vile as stealing without the proper evidence to corroborate it would show extreme incompetence on your part. Finding something in someone’s backpack can also mean someone else planted it there, and although it is true that Owen is adopted and in fact came from a foster home, this hardly proves anything, don’t you agree?”

The blood suddenly drained from the principal’s face, and Victor spoke again, his tone more incisive this time.

“Having the audacity to humiliate my son and make me interrupt my work to come here and listen to empty assumptions would be a terrible mistake. Such an error could lead to heavier consequences, like a lawsuit, or even cost you your job at  this facility, or any other institution, for that matter.”

Victor could see the terror in the man’s eyes. With little thought, Victor got up from his chair, taking his coat in his arm.

“I trust you will personally check those recordings and find the culprit. I’m certain you wouldn’t allow an innocent child to be blamed without concrete evidence.”

“Well, yes, but we are talking about hours of-” The principal babbled.

“The details of your incompetence do not concern me.” Victor interrupted. “In the meantime, contact me only when you have done your job correctly and you can present me with facts, not fables. Good day.”

Victor left the principal’s office fuming. He found Owen still in the same chair, the same disheartened expression.

“Come on.” He took the boy’s hand. “Let’s go.”

3:51 PM

The drive to the office was a quiet one, the hum of the motor the only background noise. Victor knew he had to talk to his son, but he was delaying it as much as he could. Owen already didn’t like him much, he would like him even less should Victor have to reprimand him. Although Victor didn’t believe his son was capable of such a thing. Or was he? And if he was, was it because of something he and his wife had failed at?

“Are you going to send me back to Miss Dillon?” Owen’s question startled him.

“What?” Victor looked at the boy from his rearview mirror. “No.”

“What’s going to happen then?” The boy asked again, his voice filled with worry.

Victor sighed. His wife was away and unreachable, he was on his own. He would give it his best.

“We will talk.” Victor parked the car in the next available spot, getting out.

Taking a seat next to the boy in the back, Victor studied his expression for a moment. He could see worry and sadness, but not guilt. That somewhat reassured him. All he needed to do was to figure out what was happening.

“Do you know what makes a man honorable?” He asked Owen, in all seriousness.

“He does honorable things.” Owen’s voice was sad and low. “He never makes mistakes.”

“No, that’s not true. An honorable man does make mistakes, because no one is perfect.” Victor explained in a soft voice. “What makes him honorable is that he admits his errors and learns from them. So, in the future, when faced with a similar situation, he will do better.”

Owen looked outside through his window, lost in thought.

“Owen, there are cameras in your classroom. The principal will know who stole that geode. Now, you have the chance of being honorable. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Victor pressed.

The boy suddenly seemed relieved, meeting his eyes with confidence.

“I didn’t steal it, Tom Wilkins did.”

Victor felt a wave of relief going through him. He wasn’t wrong about his son’s innocence. He was a noble boy.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you take the blame?”

“I tried, but no one would believe me.” Owen’s eyes filled with tears. “And Tom said that no one would believe the foster kid. That’s why he did it, to get me expelled, but I saw him do it. He says I don’t belong there because I’m filthy, and I’m not really your son.”

Victor had a few names he wanted to call Tom Wilkins, but he could almost hear his wife’s voice in the back of his mind. Let the boy talk. So he did.

“He said you are very powerful and ruthless, and people are afraid of you. He said that you’re mean, you don't love anyone, and you’ll send me away sooner or later.”

Victor’s heart broke when he heard his son’s words. He knew he had a reputation, and although he never cared much about what other people thought of him, it was now affecting how his child perceived him.

“What do you think, Owen? Do you think I’m mean?”

Big brown eyes looked into his, studying him.

“You look scary sometimes. But Andy told me you’re like the ogre in the story.”

Victor had to chuckle, remembering that day at the hotel with Molly. Little did he know back then that that story would follow him until that very moment.

“Alright, listen carefully.” He looked at his son with earnest eyes, hoping he would believe him. “There is nothing you can do that will make me send you back, do you understand? Absolutely nothing. You are not a foster kid, you are my son. It is not official yet, but as far as Andrea and I are concerned, you are a Lee. Tell that snotty idiot Tom Wilkins that.”

Owen giggled, amused. Victor continued, his heart already feeling lighter for hearing his son’s laughter.

“I know I can sound abrasive sometimes. Andrea is already used to it and most times is amused by it, but I understand I can look scary. But you don’t need to fear me, Owen. I promise you, I have nothing but your best interest at heart. Truth is, I was never a father, I don’t know how to be one.” Victor confessed, part of him wishing his father would be as caring with him. “But I will do my absolute best to be the best father you can have, if you let me try. Will you give me a chance?”

Owen’s eyes widened. After a moment, he shook his head.

“And if I ever look scary to you, you can tell me, alright? I need you to tell me. What do you say?” Victor extended his hand for the little boy to shake. “We have a deal?”

His son shook his hand with enthusiasm.

“Deal.”

“Now, I need to get back to LFG. Do you want to know where I work? Maybe I could use a little assistant.” Victor poked his son playfully.

“I’m going to LFG with you?” Owen’s eyes widened.

“Will you be on your best behavior?” Victor playfully furrowed his eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir!” Owen exclaimed excitedly.

“Not Sir.” Victor ruffled his son’s hair. “Just Victor.”

4:10 PM

Goldman was the first person he saw when the elevator doors opened.

“The LCG management team is already waiting for you at the conference room. Wait…” Goldman noticed the little red-haired boy by his side. “Is this Owen?”

“Yes, it is.” He looked at the child with a warm smile. “Owen, this is Goldman. I need to go to a meeting now. Do you want to come with me or do you want to stay with Goldman and do something fun?”

“Can I draw while I wait in your meeting?”

“Of course. Goldman, find some crayons and take them to the conference room. Also, Andrea’s phone is off, she probably let it run out of battery. See if you can reach her somehow, tell her to return my calls.”

He knew that Andrea’s team would love to meet their son. She kept a friendly relationship with practically all of them, and she always boasted about their kid. But Victor had forgotten that Diane was in that conference room and failed to prepare himself for all the shrieking.

“Oh my God, Owen, I was so looking forward to meeting you!” Diane gave his child a tight hug. “Your mother wasn’t overreacting when she said you were cute! Look at you, looking so sharp, you are just like a little Victor!”

“Thank you.” Owen looked down, blushing.

Everybody was so amused and engaged with the little boy that they almost forgot what they were doing there. Owen spent at least ten minutes receiving unsolicited hugs and praise, thanking them all with uncanny courtesy for his age.

“Alright, let’s all sit down and focus on what we came here to do. Owen, take your crayons and sit next to me.”

It was hard for Victor to concentrate on what was happening at that meeting, his eyes occasionally turning to that special part of his life, quietly drawing, organizing his crayons on the table, as a picture came to life. He couldn’t help glance at the piece of paper under his son’s hand, wondering what would come out of those colours, from his son's mind. However, when he looked at the table again, the drawing was gone, and Owen was folding a piece of paper and putting it in his pocket. Victor immediately decided he would peek into Owen's pockets later, when his clothes were thrown in the hamper.

As he left to get himself some coffee, and Owen something to eat, Goldman came to him.

“Good, you’re here. I need you to ask someone to go downstairs and get some snacks for Owen. Maybe some crackers and fruit. What do you think, Owen?” Victor asking, busy with the coffee pot.

“Sure.” The boy shrugged.

“I will ask Margot to send someone. Also, Sir…”

“Oh, right, did you get in touch with Andrea?” Victor’s eyes left the coffee to face Goldman, who was pale as a ghost. “Is something wrong?”

“At what time did you and Andrea talk last?”

The question made Victor’s stomach tighten.

“Around noon, why?”

“Andy’s phone was off, like you said. So, I tried Parker Company, but I got a message that the call could not be completed. So I tried to Google the number, thinking I had an old one, and that’s when I learned what happened.”

“And what happened exactly? Just tell me, Goldman!” Victor ordered.

“It’s all over the news…” Goldman hesitated.

Coffee forgotten, Victor bolted to his office, turning on the TV. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

… the heavy rain taking everything in its way, including the ground itself. Creekwood is being affected by large scale landslides, the largest happening in the beginning of this afternoon, reaching the river bank and Creekwood bridge.

Victor remembered his conversation with his wife. She was going across the bridge for lunch. He changed channels, trying to find more information.

I’m not on location, as the roads are currently closed, but from what I heard from the local authorities, the damages are pretty severe. The local communication towers were brought down by the weight of the water and debris, so all communications were cut, which doesn’t help the rescuing process, as people cannot ask for help. What we know from the local authorities is that several buildings were buried or torn apart by the landslide, including factories.

So, Trish, confirm with me again, you are in the closest city, correct?

Yes, I am currently in Ferriston, and I have to say, despite not being as affected by the storm as Creekwood, all you can hear are sirens from fire trucks and police cars leaving for the neighboring city. Creekwood seems to be experiencing an unprecedented catastrophe that will leave an indelible mark for years to come.

Thank you, Trish. Our thoughts and prayers go to the victims and their families. Stay tuned for more information during this program.

Victor’s heart stopped. No, this couldn’t be true. This wasn’t happening. Andrea… She was alright, she had to be alright. There was no way his wife was caught in the middle of a landslide and… No, he couldn’t consider it. He couldn’t even imagine it. He needed to find his wife as quickly as possible.

6:00 PM

“What do you mean I can’t fly there?” Victor’s voice roared inside his office, pacing frantically. “There has to be a place where the jet can land!”

“All the landing points were taken for rescuing purposes. They won’t allow anyone who isn’t from security or health to come in.” Goldman explained.

“There has to be a way, I need to go there, I need to get Andrea!” Victor took his phone. “I’ll make it happen. I’ll call the President if I need to, but I’m going!”

“I already talked to all the entities, Victor, I told them you would compensate them immensely, their hands are tied! This is a major catastrophe. They don't even have the means to find her before the others. It’s a mess out there.”

A wave of dizziness struck Victor, making him slump on the sofa, his head between his hands.

“I need to think of something, I need to be fast. In these situations, every second counts. Every minute makes it more certain that she’s…” He trailed off, desperate. He couldn’t say it, although the picture became more vivid in his mind by the second. “Her last location on her GPS was the Parker factory, right?”

“Yes.”

Victor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the horrid picture off his mind. Focus, Victor. You need to focus.

“Do we know if the factory was damaged, and if so, how damaged?”

“We don’t know for sure how damaged.” Goldman almost whispered. “But we know it isn’t good.”

“Get the blueprints of the building. Try to figure out in which room she was located, anything that can help us know…” He trailed off.

“Know what?” Goldman looked at him, worried.

That she’s still alive. Something that can give me hope.

“Just do it.” Victor answered tiredly.

6:45 PM

“Mr. Lee.” Margot called from the door. “I have Mr. Cooper on the phone.”

“Tell him I’m busy.” Victor was focused on the factory’s blueprint. It was hopeless. There was no panic room, no shelter, nothing.

“He says it’s about your wife.”

Victor jumped at her words. Could it be that Andrea reconsidered and headed to Ferriston after her meal? He pressed the key on his phone, accepting the call.

“Mr. Cooper.”

“Time is of the essence, so I’ll cut to the chase.” He heard the old man. “Is your wife in Creekwood?”

Victor’s heart sank. She wasn’t in Ferriston. She wasn’t safe. Victor’s eyes prickled, fear getting the best of him, his throat tightening so much he couldn’t make a sound.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Do you know where your wife was during the landslides?”

“Parker Company.” Victor croaked. “That was the last GPS location on her phone.”

“My daughter-in-law runs the Emergency Department in Ferriston. They are sending several units to Creekwood to aid in the rescue operations. I’ll have her inquire about your wife. If anyone can find her, it’s my Tracy. I’ll call you as I have news.”

Victor felt himself relax slightly. It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least it was something that could help Andrea.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Cooper.”

“Don’t thank me, Victor, this is just the Cooper way. If we are in business together, we are like family. And we take care of our own. Go home and get some rest. I’m sure I’ll have news soon enough. We’ll find her.”

8:20 PM

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Owen asked, noticing Victor push the food around in his plate.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Eat your vegetables.”

He wasn’t. He was expecting to hear from Cooper sooner. And now the old man wasn’t answering his phone either. Worry had turned Victor’s stomach into a knot only Andrea could undo.

“Is this because you can’t find Andy?”

Victor paused, looking at his son. What would he tell him? That he had lost his biological mother before, and now he was at risk of losing his adoptive mother too?

“I overheard some adults saying you were afraid she got caught in the landslide and got hurt.” Owen anticipated his lie.

His eyes prickled with tears he did not want to show his son. Again, his throat was like a vice, and he was at a loss for words. All he wanted to do was to hold that little boy and spare him from any suffering this event could cause.

“Sometimes, at the orphanage, I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. Miss Dillon taught me how to pray. She told me I can talk to God and tell him what’s bothering me, and he will comfort me, sometimes even give me a solution. It helps. Do you want to try?”

“Pray?” Victor remembered his wife was raised a Catholic, and despite not following the religion, she was a very spiritual person. He remembered the monkey sanctuary, and how she attributed her strength to a higher force watching over her. Should the roles be reversed, she would pray for his safety. It seemed fitting that he did the same for her.

“I’ll show you how.” The boy got up from his chair, pulling Victor. “You go on your knees like this and you put your hands together.” The boy kneeled on the floor.

“Like this?” Victor indulged his son, mimicking him.

“Yes. And now you pray. Like this, listen.” The four-year-old closed his eyes. “Dear God, thank you for my new family. They are very kind to me, and Victor isn’t as scary as I thought he was. Please make sure Andy comes home soon. She is good, and she is funny, and I miss her. Amen.” He opened his eyes again looking at Victor. “Now you go.”

“Do I have to say it out loud?” Victor frowned.

“Miss Dillon says you don’t, but I think in this case you really want Him to listen.”

Victor didn’t know if he should laugh or cry hearing his son’s answer. Regardless, he closed his eyes and spoke what was in his heart.

“Dear God.” Victor cleared his throat. “Thank you for my family, my beautiful wife, and my special little boy. He is so very smart and kind. My family is more than I could imagine for myself. They are everything to me. Please keep Andrea safe and make sure she comes back unharmed. And if you can, please send news soon. I’m worried.”

Victor opened his eyes to find his son’s, staring at him with anticipation.

“Do you feel better?”

“A little, thank you.” Victor gave his son a weak smile.

He wasn’t lying. He didn’t believe in such things, but the two most important people in his life did, so it had to have some meaning. Even though he still didn’t have a solution for his problems, his heart felt a little lighter, like he had just called an old friend and found some solace in comforting words.

“I drew something for you, when we were at that meeting.” Owen took a folded paper out of his pocket.

Victor unfolded it like it was a precious treasure. And it was. It was a drawing of a tall stick man dressed in black and wearing a tie, a shorter stick woman with golden curls, both holding the hands of an even smaller stick man with red hair. On top, the title MY FAMILY, and every stick figure had a caption saying My Dad, My Mom and Me. Victor held the drawing with shaky hands, his heart heavy with emotion.

“You told me nothing would make you send me away, so you are my forever family, right?” Owen’s eyes were bright and expectant.

“That’s right.” Victor did his best to hide the tears in his throat.

“So you are my father?” Owen confirmed again, and Victor nodded. “Can I call you dad?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Do you think I can call Andy mom?”

A sob escaped from Victor’s lips, disguised with laughter.

“She will love that.” He pulled his son into his arms, not knowing what to do with so much weighing in his heart. She had to be safe, she simply had to. She had a family to return to.

God, please let her be safe.

His phone rang. Victor bolted to the table to check the caller. It was Cooper.

“Yes?”

“My daughter-in-law just contacted me by radio. They found your wife. She’s ok.”

All the tension left Victor’s body, making him deflate like a balloon. He slowly sat on the floor, still holding the phone to his ear, the tears he was holding finally finding an exit.

“I’ll let you take a breather.” Cooper chuckled.

“Thank you.” Victor spoke after a moment. “Thank you so much. When can I see her? Where can I pick her up? I’ll get my jet ready.”

“Hold on those horses, not just yet.” Cooper chuckled again. “It will take her a while to leave Creekwood, the medical staff needs to see her. I’ll call my daughter-in-law to ask if it’s possible to transport her tonight, she will stay with us for the time being. Come pick her up in the morning.”

“Wait, is she hurt? Why does she need to go through the medical staff?”

“It’s standard procedure. As far as my Tracy tells me, she is very well, responsive and moving on her own. Still, she needs to be checked for injuries or dehydration, to see if she’s fit to fly, which she probably will be. Don’t worry, your wife is in safe hands now. I’ll have her call you as soon as she arrives. I doubt you will sleep, anyway.”

“Please, do.” Victor took a deep breath. “Mr Cooper, I will not forget this. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the very least I could do. Just take care of my legacy.”

“You have my word.”

Owen sat anxiously in front of him as he ended the call.

“So?”

“She’s alright!” Victor pulled the boy to his lap, almost suffocating him with a tight hug. “She’s safe. Your mother is safe.”

Victor held on tight to his son, his fingers stroking his curls. He felt so much joy at that moment he felt like he could burst. And he thanked God for his kindness, promising he would repay in kind, starting with the victims of that landslide.

4:42 AM

Victor had no idea why he went to bed, knowing in advance he wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was a matter of habit, he concluded. It was also the place where he could still feel her scent, lingering on her pillow, and that brought him comfort. He leaned against it once more, taking a deep breath, his heart relieved that she was safe, and was being taken care of. He looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. 4:44 AM. It was taking too long. He needed to hear her voice.

The sound of his phone vibrating was like a shot of adrenaline in his heart, jumping with joy when he looked at the caller ID and saw his wife’s face.

“Andrea?” His voice was needy, expectant.

“I’m alright. I'm at the Cooper’s. I’m not hurt.”

Again, Victor found himself unable to talk, her voice alone enough to make his emotions spill over.

“The part of the factory where I was wasn’t affected, but I couldn’t call you. All the lines were down, and we were trapped. But I didn’t get hurt, I didn’t even get dirty. We just sat patiently and waited for someone to come for us.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Mr. Cooper told me you were worried sick, sent half the country looking for me.”

“You’re never leaving my side again, do you hear me?” Victor’s voice was still strained with emotion.

“Never again, I promise. I will never leave your side.” Her tone shifted to a lighter one. “I love you, handsome.  You’re stuck with me.”

“I will chain you to myself if I need to.” He scolded her. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, Vic, I really am, I can only imagine what you went through.” She spoke sweetly to him. “How is Owen? Was he too scared?”

“He was a little scared, but he’s fine, he’s sleeping.” Victor smiled, recalling his day. “We really bonded today. We had some issues at school, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, but it showed him he can trust us. He asked me if he could call us Mom and Dad.”

“He called you Dad? Oh my God, Victor, that’s huge!” It was Andrea’s turn to cry.

“Not yet, he will find the right time. But he called us his forever family. And told me I’m not as scary as he thought, just like that ogre.” He made a jokingly flat voice.

“Oh, he told you about that? Oops.” She teased. “I’m glad everything worked out, though. I can’t wait to see you guys again.”

He felt the same. He missed her so much it physically hurt.

“It won’t take long, I promise.” He assured her. “Go get some rest, you had a long day. I’ll come pick you in the morning.”

“As long as you promise me to do the same.”

“I promise. I will see you in my dreams, my light.”

“I’ll meet you there, handsome.”

Victor felt peaceful and happy. Now he could get some rest, knowing she was safe. He leaned against her pillow one last time, taking a little more of her scent. Before he knew it, he was already in the dream realm, holding her in his arms.

10:45 AM

“Are we there yet?” Owen asked excitedly.

“See for yourself.” Victor turned from the wide road to an exit to his right, and soon they could read the sign saying Welcome to Ferriston.

A few miles further and they turned to the Cooper property, a large farm with a beautiful orchard preceding the large mansion.

Victor parked by a lemon tree, and along with his son, walked to the great green door.

“Your friends are all rich…” Owen noted, his eyes wide. “Do you think he also has horses?”

“Not all my friends have money.” Victor cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Owen’s remark. “And yes, I think I saw a stable on the back.”

He pressed on the antique doorbell. Soon enough, an old lady with sweet eyes was there to greet them.

“Hi, you must be Mr. Lee.” She smiled at him, shaking his hand. “My name is Marion Cooper, I’m Jason’s wife. And who might you be, young man?” She looked at Owen.

“My name is Owen.” The boy extended his hand for the lady to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, and so polite.” She squatted to the boy’s height. “Are you here to get your mother?”

“Yes.” Victor fidgeted slightly, eager to meet her. “Where is she?”

“In my husband’s study, waiting for him to sign the contract.” She motioned them to follow her. “They both woke up early to visit the company and the property. It seems not even a landslide can stop your wife. A true force of nature.”

“Stubborn is more accurate.” Victor frowned, although he was beyond proud. Andrea's determination was one of the things he loved the most about her.

Mrs. Cooper opened the doors of the study, revealing Mr. Cooper, sitting on his desk, while his wife was standing in front of him, some papers in her hand. It took Victor all the strength he could muster not to run to her and take her in his arms. Owen apparently didn’t have the same restraint.

“Mom!” He threw himself to his wife, his little arms wrapping tightly around her waist. “We were so worried about you!”

“Hey!” She looked at Victor with tears in her eyes. “I know you were, little bug, I’m so sorry.” She caressed their child's curls lovingly. “I am ok, see?” She pulled back, smiling widely at him. “All in one piece.”

“You must be Owen.” Mr. Cooper greeted the boy. “Hey, would you like to see my horses, maybe give your parents a moment alone? We have a foal that was born just a month ago.”

Owen looked expectantly and Victor, who nodded approvingly.

“I would love to! What’s his name?” Owen jumped with excitement.

“It’s a female, her name is Sunflower. She’s golden as wheat.” Mr. Cooper turned to Victor. “We will be outside, come meet us after.”

“Thank you so much.” Victor’s throat was so burdened with emotion his voice was barely audible.

“I’m just glad everything ended well.” The old man smiled before closing the door.

The click of the lock brought Victor from his trance, and he pulled his wife to him in a tight hug. He didn’t need to say any words; he didn’t need to explain his feelings, neither did she. The warmth in their bodies and the urgency in their hands were speaking for them, whispering I was worried, I would die should anything happen to you, I’m never letting you out of my sight . Their lips met to start a new dialogue, saying I love you, you are the light of my life, I’m so grateful for you .

It was only after a long moment that he heard his favorite voice again.

“Victor... Aren’t you going to let me go?” She looked up at him.

Victor’s embrace tightened as his lips rested on her temple.

“No.” He whispered. “Never again.”

[eilerriselmwyre]

cw // mentions of death, suicide, divorce

a few months after bobby's bandmates died, he met a girl: sarah. sarah had recently moved from her little hometown in texas to the cheapest apartment she could find on the outskirts of L.A.; her goal was to become an actress. bobby was still grieving the loss of his best friends, so he turned to sarah for comfort. just shy of his 18th birthday, sarah tells bobby that she's pregnant with his child. scrambling, bobby moves into sarah's tiny apartment and they have a shotgun wedding at the courthouse with rose as their witness. a couple months into the pregnancy, sarah revealed that she was running low on funds; at this point, bobby still wanted to make music but was quickly discovering that he couldn't write on his own. after a fight one day about bobby going to get a real job, he wanders back to sunset curve's studio to think, hoping he'll get inspiration there. while in the garage, bobby found luke's old songwriting notebooks and flipped through them for hours. he remembered how great of a songwriter luke was and how it was a shame the world would never hear his writing. that's when an idea came to mind: he would use luke's songs in his own career. luke wasn't using them, right? and with bobby's logic, the songs would still be heard by the whole world. but he would need to distance himself from sunset curve in order for people not to make the connection- that day, he decided to go by trevor.

flash forward a few years to 1999: sarah and trevor's son, gabe, is three years old, and trevor is topping the rock charts (with the help of luke's songbooks). he and sarah have been having a few spats here and there, mostly about sarah having to stay home and care for gabe while trevor was off being a rockstar. trevor turned to rose for help, but she sided with sarah and told trevor that he needed to spend more time with his family. unfortunately, trevor didn't take rose's advice and continued to focus more on his career than his wife and son; at this point, rose cuts him off because she doesn't agree with his decisions. after a few more years pass and the fighting between trevor and sarah has significantly increased. but in early 2005, sarah finds out that she is once again pregnant with trevor's child, only this time, it's a baby girl. gabe is 9 years old at this point, and can tell that his parents aren't happy with each other. he hopes that this new baby sister brings his family back together like when he was a kid.

when carrie is born, life doesn't get better for the wilson family. trevor and sarah are still fighting because sarah has given up her dream of becoming an actress in order to take care of their children. trevor is still succeeding in the rock industry, gaining more and more fame over the years. he continues to see his family less and less, and whenever he comes home, he only pays gabe attention. gabe was a star student and athlete, and was even pursuing music on the side. but gabe was only doing this much because he desperately wanted his father's attention. trevor's absence has also seriously started to affect him, now 16. no one notices gabe's worsening mental health until it's too late- sarah is the one to find him. carrie was only 5 at the time, so she had no real awareness of what had happened, just that her big brother was never coming back. this tragedy is the wakeup call trevor needs to come back home, but it's too late; sarah has already decided to walk out on him and carrie because she can't deal with his bullshit anymore. completely helpless, trevor does the only thing he can think of: he calls rose. he apologizes for the way that he's acted and explains everything to her, which prompts rose to immediately drive to his house with her 5 year old daughter, julie. rose and trevor make ammends, and the girls immediately connect and carrie begins spending more time at the molina household, having weeks-long sleepovers when her dad goes on tour. trevor claims to have changed, but he still pays little attention to his daughter. calling rose was just a way of lessening the amount of work he had to do to raise carrie.

around the age of 12, carrie decides that she wants to become a musician like her father. she starts teaching herself piano and songwriting, hoping that if she's good enough, she'll get more of her father's attention. he seems to focus more on his career and still mourns the loss of his son, blaming himself for what had happened. gabe is the perfect child in his mind, so carrie strives to emulate that. when carrie goes to tell trevor that she wants to pursue music, he tells her that she can do what she want, but he won't help her. carrie is upset by this because she thought her father would be encouraging, so she goes to rose. rose tells her that plenty of musicians get started without any help, and all she has to do it work hard at it and keep trying.

by the age of thirteen, dirty candy has come to be. everyone thinks that trevor wilson's money is funding it, but it's all done by the members of the group: carrie writes and produces the music from her father's home studio, kayla and the member in teal choreograph, and the red and yellow members make their costumes. they slowly start getting attention in the area, but they're still brushed off because "they're just kids." trevor doesn't even notice carrie using his studio until he walks in on her recording one day. he asks what she's doing and she explains, almost in tears because this isn't the first time she's told her dad about dirty candy; he just didn't care enough to remember. despite him never paying attention, carrie still desperately seeks his approval. she works hard at school, makes sure her pop group is successful, dates the most popular boy in her class. but none of that makes trevor pay her any more attention; he cares more about his dead son than his living daughter.

[joy1579]

RFA boys + saeran helping surrogate MC through pregnancy and meeting her baby

so this is the other interpretation of that request i got. i hope its okay! i wrote this one out side which was really nice for a change. please leave a comment if you enjoyed it

also master list if your into it

Jumin

During the pregnancy

-        Since he met you later in your surrogacy he only gets 2 months to help you through your pregnancy

-        But he does everything he can

-        You get one of those super fancy pregnancy body pillows

-        He declines the private nurse though reminding him that every woman ancestor he has gave birth even before private nurses were a thing

-        He picks apart the line saying that his great aunt never had children so not every

-        You cut him off with a gently kiss before saying “hush I’m pregnant and therefore right”

-        He would argue with you but you’re already walking away towards the kitchen where your latest snack craving was hidden away.

Meeting the baby in the waiting room

-        He was a tad upset that he couldn’t be with you in the delivery room

-        But he understood that your sister and her husband (the parents) took priority over him

-        At least he said he did but his grim look and constant foot tapping  said otherwise

-        “Jumin” your sister called “do you want to see your future nephew?” his heart jumped at that.

-        Your sister hadn’t been cold to him certainly but she had always referred to him as your boyfriend despite his proposal.

-        He had taken it to mean she did not approve of him but if this child was his future nephew then she must have accepted that you were his future wife

-        “yes I would” he said resolutely stepping forward to see the baby in her arms

-        He had you and your sisters eye’s (poor baby ain’t got no eyes JK) and red tinted hair from his father but what hit Jumin most was the simple peace of the child

-        He had expected fussiness and crying. He had asked around and many people warned him that newborns were fussy even on their best days

-        But like you this child had a gentle peace about him a calm and happy light in its bright young eye’s

-        “I’d like to see MC” he said abruptly and your sister chuckled stepping aside so he could visit you

-        He wrapped you in his arms and murmered low in your ear “you never cease to amaze me my love. Marry me? Not in several months not even in days. Tomorrow. The second your discharged.”

Yoosung

During the pregnancy

-        He is trying his absolute best. He knows nothing about pregnancy. So he asks his mom and after calming down her panic she agrees to help.

-        By showing up at his house to see and care for MC.

-        She insists on cleaning and worries over MC whenever MC tries to help

-        Yoosung helps dutifully but you can see a tinge of regret in his eyes when his mother nags him to stop playing lolol

-        She’s there for a week cooking and lecturing Yoosung on everything that a pregnant woman need help with (which according to her is EVERYTHING)

-        You ask her if she had a hard pregnancy by chance and she admits her pregnancy with Yoosung was very difficult (Yoosung had never known that and listens intently from his place cleaning in the kitchen

-        She had pushed herself to hard and ending up going into labor prematurely nearly loosing Yoosung in the process now your crying and Yoosung is rushing to your side his mom hugging you both

-        “you are strong MC anyone who can put up with my son must be but dont forget to take care of yourself, and you Yoosung you help her with this and make me proud” his mom semi scolds with a warm smile

Meeting the baby in the waiting room

-        Yoosung is sitting in the corner practically bouncing with anxiety

-        Zen has his hand on Yoosung’s shoulder and is looking at his watch every five minutes

-        He was missing a final for this but he had told his professor that his girlfriend was having a baby so the professor would let him retake it tomorrow

-        Technically it wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t their baby.

-        Despite it not being their baby he was still so nervous he thought he might be sick. After hearing his mother’s story, he had researched EVERYTHING that could go wrong (there are a lot of things that could go wrong)

-        So when he heard your sister (who had become a familiar presence in his life) call him he nearly jumped out of his skin

-        He rushed over to where she stood holding a small bundle of blue blankets

-        “you’ll never guess what we named him?” she teased and her small smirked highlighted just how much you two looked alike “MC came up with it, and we thought it was perfect naming him after his uncle”

-        Yoosung looked at her confused and lost tilting his head to the side

-        “meet Yoosung our baby and maybe someday your official nephew”

-        Yoosung turned beet red at that you and he had only been dating for 3 months after all

-        And yet through all the nerves he couldn’t find it in himself to dislike the idea in fact he couldn’t stop the wide smile that grew on his face

-        “hi mini Yoosung. I’ll do my best to be someone you can look up too okay!”

Saeyoung

during pregnancy

-        Look there was A LOT going on during this moment in his life

-        Between the agency and mint eye he could barely think straight

-        And you were his rock grounding him through it all.

-        Vanderwood had never seen a woman 7 months pregnant pick a fight with a cult leader and show no hesitation when looking danger in the face before you

-        You were either incredibly brave or just plain stupid considering you were in love with Saeyoung probably a bit of both

-        He had to admit though your steadfast level headed nurturing was exactly what Saeyoung and his brother needed

-        At every wrong turn and new trouble, you were there cheering Saeyoung on and calming Saeran down (something that amazingly it seemed only you could do)

-        Saeyoung was determined to protect you and his brother and you believed in him whole heartedly

-        It was only after all the chaos was over and Saeyoung had brought you to his bunker that you finally sat down, sighed and called your sister to tell her you were home

-        Saeyoung sat next to you and as soon as you hang up you burst into tears and buried your face in his chest

-        He was surprised when you mentioned how worried for him you were

-        He pulled you back to look at you disbelievingly before kissing you hard

-        After all that nothing could come between you

Meeting the baby in the waiting room

-        He stood stock still eye’s darting between the doors to the delivery room and the hallway he led to the psychiatric ward where his brother was

-        He wanted to tell his brother that today was the day but everything had been so busy since arriving he didn’t have a chance and now his was stuck unsure of how long it would take.

-        Logically he was sure he had enough time since his brother never wanted to see him for very long. They were doing better of course but at most they could only spend 20 to 30 minutes together before Saeran would have an episode and Saeyoung would be ushered away.

-        Still he didn’t want to risk being absent when the baby was born and he could see you safe and sound again.

-        Your sister had barely stepped through the door before Saeyoung was burying her in questions

-        “is MC okay? What about the baby? Is it a boy or a girl? When can I see MC again?”

-        Your sister chuckled at that nodding down the bundle of blue blankets in her arms

-        “MC’s is okay their helping her clean up now. This is our little boy here and you can see MC as soon as you answer a question for us.” Her gentle voice reminded him so much of yours whenever you tried to soothe Saeran and he nodded urgently. He desperately wanted to see you.

-        “will you be the God father luciel?”

-        Ice ran through his veins as he froze. Godfather. He couldn’t, there was no way he could with everything he’s done everything he’s caught up in but hadn’t he thought the same about being with you, and about seeing his brother again too

-        He looked at the tiny infant, it slept soundly in its mothers arms and he tried to find a reason to dislike the small boy, any reason to say no to the question your sister had just asked. Slowly the baby opened his eyes and he marveled at how clear and innocent they were.

-        He’s tremulously nod’s and is suddenly caught up in a gentle hug from your sister and her quiet husband, before being ushered back to meet you.

Zen

During the pregnancy

-        Absolutely gives you anything and everything your craving

-        Completely quits smoking because what if it hurts the baby (still drinks beer though)

-        he lays his head on your belly and talks to the baby telling it how it has the best kindest strongest angel of a mother ever

-        surrogate mother you point out and he looks so confused because what’s the difference?

-        You explain that the baby isn’t yours in any way except for it growing in your womb. The egg was your sisters so the baby is hers not yours

-        He still looks a little confused but takes your word for it after all you would know best

-        You and he have A LOT of dinners with your sister and her husband

-        He’s still getting used to the whole family dynamic since he hasn’t had it in so long

Meeting the baby in the waiting room

-        He is pacing because he does not enjoy sitting still while anxious

-        he can’t calm down and he’s angry that they won’t let him in the delivery room with you

-        Yoosung touches his shoulder and he turns on him about to snap but stopping himself when he sees its Yoosung and not Jumin

-        Yoosung asks him if he wants some water and offers to walk with him to the hospital cafeteria

-        They are almost out the door when he hears your sister call for him

-        “zen would you like to see the baby?”

-        He sprints over to see the little boy and in that moment he vows to teach this child everything he knows

-        It may not be his son but he swears to support the kid to the ends of the earth and if the kid ever needs a place to go. Well that’s what uncles should be for.

-        The baby grabs at a stray lock of Zen’s hair and its one of the few times Zen lets anyone but you and his hairdresser touch his hair

-        Then the baby tugs just a little too much and Zen decided that the no touch rule is completely valid as your sister tuts and untangles the tiny fist

-        He still loves this kid though

-        Your sisters been talking this whole time but he hasn’t heard a word so she snaps in front of his face to get his attention

-        “do you want to see MC”

-        “yes” he nearly shouts before speed walking to your room

Saeran

During the pregnancy

-        After the chaos of mint eye and looking for his brother he is happy to settle down

-        He cooks for you, and of course you and he share so much ice-cream (midnight ice-cream runs because of craving happen almost weekly at first)

-        He brushes your hair and tries to wait on you hand and foot until you put that foot down

-        You have to give him a serious talk about making his own decisions and choosing things for himself because you don’t want to see him fall back into his mint eye habits

-        He nods and starts to give you a little space but he still brushes your hair. Saying he genuinely enjoys it

-        You encourage him in his recovery and sit outside while he gardens

-        When he gets angry you do what you can to calm him down. People are worried he might hurt you but you have faith in him. (and the self-defense training Jaehee gave you)

-        Your sister is admittedly nervous but your unwavering faith bolsters her trust in saeran as well as his trust in himself

-        He’ll be the first to admit though he does NOT like the look of discomfort on your face when the baby kicks but he’s learning to keep himself calm and to walk away from things that upset him rather than try to fight them head on

Meeting the baby in the waiting room

-        EVERYONE can feel how tense he is

-        He’s sitting straight backed with his fists clenched on his knees

-        Your sister is honestly a little afraid to take her newborn baby out their despite how sweet he seemed sometimes. It’s the times he didn’t seem sweet that she worried about. Even if you swore up and down he was more than safe

-        His head shot up at the sound of the door and he rushed to your sister the second he saw her

-        “where’s MC? is she safe? I need to see her NOW?” that last word came out harsher than he meant and Jumin put his hand on Saeran’s shoulder

-        “I’m sure MC is fine. Isn’t that right?” he said calmly

-        Your sister nodded a little before speaking “MC is fine the nurses are helping her clean up you’ll be allowed back as soon as she’s done I just thought you might want to see the baby since you helped MC through this”

-        Saeran swallowed hard, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see the baby. Wasn’t sure if he should see the baby

-        But when he locked eyes with the small infant he swore he could see so much of you in its face (or was it your sister? Did it matter? Not to him)

-        It was the first time he had actually thought of starting a family with you. later when he is farther into his recovery, when his relationship with his brother is better, when you and he are married maybe.

-        When a nurse called for your visitors and he lunged forward baby forgotten you where most important

[highqueenofelfhame]

25 Days of Christmas: Rowaelin

Fear and Fire: Chapter Two.

“I want to try for special ops,” she said, sitting on the edge of her chair and regarding her Admiral with the utmost respect. Brullo’s fingers were tented in front of his face, chin resting on his thumbs as he mulled his words over. 

“You’re sure you’re ready?” His eyes finally met hers, scanning her face for any sign of instability, she was sure. There had been a long while when, after Sam, she had been like a loose canon. At this point, she wasn’t sure how many times they’d had this conversation. That she was ready to join, but that he didn’t think she was ready. After yesterday, she was positive he was going to say no again, but instead he leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Alright.”

“You’re serious?” Brullo’s approval meant everything to Aelin, considering how hard they had both worked to get her where she was at present. Despite it being the twenty-first century, men didn’t take kindly to taking orders from women. Especially women younger than they were, women that were smaller than they were. It usually took her kicking their ass before they would treat her with an ounce of respect. So for him to say that it was okay, to give his go-ahead that she so desperately sought, meant the world. 

“Of course I’m serious. I think it’s time,” he said, nodding to himself as she rushed around the desk and threw her arms around his neck. It wasn’t often that he allowed such things, but when she snuck it up on him he could hardly refuse. Brullo had been friends with her father, was someone Aelin had known since she was a child, and sometimes felt like all of her dad that she had left. 

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

~*~

Aelin had never wanted to let Brullo down so much in her life. She knew, weeks ago when she had asked for his approval, that the special ops tryouts were grueling. She had known that Brullo had worked his ass off to make it so she could even tryout for special ops. Up until Aelin had voiced her interest months ago, women hadn’t been allowed. Aelin was the first, and currently only, woman to tryout to be on one of the elite teams of Terrasen’s Navy. 

Now that she had passed the initial test (an intense physical test that included running, swimming, and various other physical tests), training had begun and her life was already hell. Everyone was making sure of it, too. Everyone except for her friends in the Cadre: the twins, Vaughan, and Gavriel. Aelin was pretty sure that Rowan and Lorcan wanted to eat her for a snack. 

Now, with her hands bound behind her back and her ankles tied together, she had been struggling so hard to keep her head just above water that she would have been embarrassed had the men not had an equally difficult time. When the final whistle blew, she took a deep breath and let her body go completely limp to sink beneath the surface while she untied her hands and feet with ease. The knots hadn’t ever been so tight that she wouldn’t have been able to get out of them. With her eyes open beneath the water, she could see several of the men having a hard time unravelling their knots. It was amusing, really, to know that their biggest fear was likely being bested by the only woman and then having to watch it come to fruition when she finally pulled herself out of the pool. Aelin sat on the ledge for a few minutes, untying her boots and depositing them on the concrete beside her. When she tilted them upside down, water poured from inside and she shook her head with a sigh. 

And then the catcalling started. The low whistles, the cheers while she twisted her hair to wring out the water. 

It wasn’t the first time that it had happened. It wasn’t even the first time this week that it had happened. Her rank didn’t matter when she was smaller than all the men on base. The fact that she kicked their asses day in and out before special ops training didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was a woman, she had tits, she had an ass, and these men were wildly deprived on base despite frequent trips into the bars and pubs in town. It was gross. It was wearing her thin, and she couldn’t help but wonder when she would finally snap and beat them all to a bloody pulp, likely getting excused or kicked out of special ops training for violent behavior. 

“Take it off, Princess!” Someone shouted in her direction, and she kept her head down while she squeezed the water from her shirt. The same man that had just yelled at her had stripped his shirt off and tossed it to the side, and Aelin shifted uncomfortably while he yelled at her again, only to be joined by several others. It was disgusting, the male mind in thinking that they were completely entitled to speak to her however they so wished. Just when she’d lost her patience, another louder and more authoritative voice rang clear through the room, echoing off the walls and cutting through the choppy splashing of the water. 

“Everybody outside. Now.” Whitethorn. Nobody hesitated when he or anyone from the Cadre spoke. They were the law as far as anyone was concerned, and they would follow each and every order they were given.

Despite her aching and waterlogged body, Aelin pulled herself to her feet and shoved them back into her shoes, following the rest of the soldiers outside. They all stood in a single line, heads held high despite their aching bones. 

“Galathynius.” Aelin stepped forward, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch and did her best to ignore the low chuckles behind her. 

“Sir!” 

“About how badly would you like to kick these men’s asses for patronizing you simply because you’re a woman?” The question caught her off guard so much that she huffed out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing the slightest amount. For a moment, she had been worried that he, too, would start reaming her over her gender.

“You would be surprised how bad, sir,” she answered truthfully as Rowan came to stop in front of her. Gods, he was huge. Aelin looked up at him, making direct eye contact for the first time.

 He leaned down then, lips close to her ear and murmured, “Can I do it for you?” 

“I don’t need protecting, sir. I can do it myself.” Something in Rowan’s eyes flickered as he stepped back and gave her an appreciative look. 

“Would you mind?”

“No, sir.” She admitted, not minding at all if he took them down if only because she was too tired with jello limbs to do it herself. 

It was the biggest honor of her life, she decided, watching thirteen men get the life beat out of them in a sparring ring while she got to watch. 

An even bigger honor just to watch Rowan Whitethorn take down men with hardly any effort at all. It was like it came so naturally, so second nature that it took no effort. The only sign that he didn’t possess some sort of superhuman strength was his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths from exertion. He moved in such a beautiful way that it surprised her. Despite his size he moved with such grace that it was almost like watching a dance. Rowan Whitethorn may as well be Superman.

~*~

Aelin had been running on the treadmill for too long. Despite the long stamina she had when it came to running, the fact that she had been holding a steady pace for well over an hour while she watched Rowan and Fenrys spar on a mat across the room. There was a stitch in her side, because there were others in the room besides just Rowan and Fenrys. Grave and Cain were two of them, and Aelin refused to slow down lest they decide she was weak and couldn’t keep up a mild sprint for long enough. They kept looking at her laughing as it were, each of them sporting swollen jaws and black eyes from the beating Rowan had dished out earlier in the day. As soon as those two left the work out room, though, she slammed the speed button to slow down while she gulped in large breaths of air. 

Not too long after, Fenrys and Rowan fist bumped and Fen left the room leaving Rowan and Aelin alone. Rowan was dabbing at his brow with a towel, sweat reflecting off the surface of his stupidly pronounced chest. There was such a raw cut to each of his abdominal muscles that it felt more like she was looking in on Brad Pitt filming Fight Club. 

“Sir?” She immediately wanted to die at how out of breath she sounded, how raspy her voice was. Rowan lifted his eyes to meet hers as she finally stepped off the treadmill, though, and raised a brow. “I had a question for you.” 

“Ask away,” he said, tilting his head back to squirt a shot of water into his mouth from his water bottle before spraying it over his face. Shit. He was hot. 

“I’ve never seen anyone fight like you did today.” Not her question, and his answer of a raised brow told her that he, too, noticed it wasn’t a question. “I’m quick. I’m strong. I am very accomplished as a soldier but I was hoping that you might teach me. Teach me how to fight the way you were. I can kill someone with a dagger from fifty feet straight to the heart, but with just my fists I’m not as talented. I feel like if I don’t ask for help where I need it that I won’t get the job I’m trying so hard to obtain and I refuse to not get a promotion because a few men decided I wasn’t good enough.” Her heart was thundering in her chest, pounding like a herd of wild stallions were beating against her ribs. Rowan tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, licked his lips, then nodded once. 

“Only if I can take you out for a drink.” Aelin was torn between wanting to scream yes and wanting to slap him for being like the rest of the men on base.

“That sounds wildly inappropriate. Is that why you beat everyone up today?”

“I kicked their asses because their behavior was bullshit and not something that I tolerate.” 

“So you’re going to approve me for the SO position if I say yes?” Chewing on her bottom lip, she rested her hands on her hips while she watched his face carefully. His cheeks were flushed now, eyes flustered but bright. 

“Asking you out for a drink is inappropriate but trying to get me to hand you a position isn’t?”

“I’m a woman, sir. I need all the help I can get.” It was a challenge, those two sentences. A challenge that if he failed, she would find a dagger and stab him with it for being a hypocrite, but when he spoke she found herself to be pleasantly surprised.

“You don’t need my help getting the job. You’re doing more than fine without my help, you will get SO because you deserve it, because you are capable.” The sincerity in his voice was striking, the lilt of his accent making the words a soft confession that she wanted him to repeat. She wanted to ask him if he meant it, if he truly believed what he said, but the look in his eyes told her that he did. Rowan Whitethorn, if no one else on the base, believed in her. “I’ll train you. The drink is optional, but yes, I will help you train.” 

With flying colors, he passed. So after a few beats, after she willed her heart to calm, she took a step back and offered him a small smile. “You can pick me up at seven.”

tags: @starseternalnighttriumphant @mariamuses @keshavomit @faefromthenorth @ifyouwouldseemysoul @murlymoo150 @faerie-queen-fireheart @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyre-therabeaux @runawayrowan @someonemagical @stormymeow @singme-t0sleep @tswaney17 @shyvioletcat @city-of-fae @kandasboi @mynewdreamwasyou @tangledraysofsunshine @aelin-is-my-heart @empire-of-wildfire @mynameiscelaenasardothien​ @myfeyrelady​ @schmlip-scribble​ @musicmaam​ @nalgenewhore​ @westofmoon​ @aaronwarnvrs @acourtofrowaelinandfeysand​ @im-not-rare-im-rarr​

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Queen Of The Damned”

In the whole eternity, The Queen of the Underworld only loved once: he was mortal and died shortly after she gave him a child. So when The Joker says he’s a Prince, he’s not actually lying or being a presumptuous lunatic: the green haired man is in fact royalty and sole heir to The Realm Below.

“Stop fidgeting!!!” the nurse admonishes. “This is a new experimental drug and it will help you, OK?” she tries to reason with the patient confined inside a straitjacket, heavy chains bounding him to the metal table.

“Let me go!” he hisses and tries to bite her as she checks his neck for pulse.

“I can’t let you go, Mister Joker. We’re trying to make you better, alright?” the caregiver dodges his teeth before J can sink them in her flesh.

“If you don’t untie me, my Mother will come!!! She doesn’t like it if I’m in danger!”

“Shut the hell up, you insane bastard!” the attending physician can’t hold in his bitterness while mixing the serum.

“Doctor Reeves!” the woman raises her voice. “That’s not the way we talk! I know you are new at Arkham Asylum, but I would really appreciate it if you treat our cases with respect!”

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes for his unprofessional remark. “He gets on my nerves!”

“Yes well… Please keep your personal opinions to yourself because they’re not doing any good! The patient is very agitated; would you like me to take over?” she offers and gets cut off.

“I don’t need your expertise, I’m a doctor for God’s sake!”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” the nurse sighs at his obvious crankiness; why does she have to be stuck during the night shift with Reeves?! Arkham’s South Wing is already harboring the worst criminals and a psychiatrist that took the job for the thrills can’t possibly render assistance to the troubled convicts incarcerated here.

“I’m done,” he taps the syringe and approaches The Joker when the lights suddenly flicker. “Another power outage?! The storm is not that bad!” the guy rants and doesn’t realize the prisoner is not struggling to escape anymore.  

“My Mother’s coming!” the most demented smile flourishes on The Joker’s lips. “I warned you!” he maniacally starts laughing with delight. “You should have listened!”

A low rumble shakes the immense building and the convoluted hallways fill up with mist: the Queen of The Realm Below steps in the world of the living again, surrounded by her loyal army of twisted warriors.

“Protect The Prince!” the invisible wraiths shriek, crawling on the walls in order to destroy the cameras. Some fly through brick and metal with the sole purpose of fulfilling their ruler’s command: no greater honor than aid her son trapped in the human kingdom.

He often gets in trouble and somehow miraculously vanishes or avoids hazardous situations; this is his first time at Arkham and the authorities will believe tonight’s events are an inside job or simply an elaborate breakout plotted by The Joker’s team.

Ironically enough The King of Gotham is not even crazy: his mind works on a totally different level due to the unearthly heritage. There is no cure for a person that’s not sick, no medicine or therapy allegedly mending something that’s not fractured.

“Why isn’t the generator kicking in?” Reeves stares at the ceiling and the nurse carefully listens, pointing out a disturbing detail:

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” the doctor crinkles his nose. “It’s silent.”

“Exactly,” she mutters. “Why is it so quiet?”

“I have no idea,” he prepares to poke The Joker’s arm when the halogen bulbs instantly go out. “Ana, can you…” the psychiatrist mumbles as the lights turn back on. “Finally!” he turns towards the woman and gasps at the frightening apparition standing next to him. Your sword whooshes in the stillness and the corpse falls to the ground, abruptly followed by the caregiver’s: both didn’t have the opportunity to process what they saw by pure coincidence. It was gone in a second along with their existence.

The Queen towers over the medical ward, slowly taking off her helmet; her hair intensely burns, eternally fueled by the fires of The Underworld.

“You came!” The Joker face brightens up with pure happiness noticing the creatures’ claws release him from his constraints: they grumble, coo and chirp seeing The Prince is safe and sound; he pets a few kneeling at his feet while rushing in your arms. “Mother!” J sniffles and you hold him tight until his body relaxes a little bit.

“Are you hurt?” you whisper and your son pouts, burying his cheeks in the cold silver of your plated armor.

“No,” the muffled word prompts a kiss on his forehead; The Joker lets go, unwilling to watch his mother depart: he’s aware she can’t linger for too long, yet the desire to stay close to her never fades. “When are you going to take me with you?” the piercing blue eyes inherited from his father glare into yours.

“Soon,” the elusive reply makes him frown.

“You promised and I’m always left behind!”

How can you explain why he’s still here?... J wouldn’t comprehend what coming with you to The Realm Below means: he would have to get rid of his mortal shell and you just don’t have the strength to witness him die.  

Despite the horrifying moniker, The Queen of The Damned is neither good nor evil; her actions are invariably guided by circumstances.

She takes care of lost, damaged spirits and although powerful and feared, Y/N is also the recipient of her legions’ constant devotion, for no other Monarch of The Underworld ever enjoyed being cherished by its subject as much as you are.

The abomination born from her love with a human didn’t diminish the horde’s allegiance: it actually made them adore The Queen more because affection is desperately craved in The Realm Below and they can’t wait to have a Prince willing to share his Mother’s duties!

But The Joker’s arrival keeps on getting postponed…  

“You know what I’ll do?” J mischievously snickers. “I’m gonna call my crew and tell them to pick me up. The mystery of how I’m able to walk out of this place without their intervention will drive them nuts! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” his sinister chuckle resonates in the room; he feels such gratification thinking about it one could presume he’s in a cheerful disposition. “Did you clear the path for me?” The Prince inquires and the entities snarl, excited he’s paying attention to their mighty deeds. “Perfect!” your son praises. “I’ll signal when to open the gates, ok?”

They growl at his approval and you have to interrupt the joyful mood:

“I have to go…”

“Is dad waiting for you?” J asks, already guessing the answer.

“Yes,” you nod and reassure: “Don’t worry, I’ll return when you need me!”

Before the sentence ends The Queen disappears, abandoning her descendant inside the Arkham Asylum. The Joker sulks, upset he can’t follow you and gets distracted by the commotion created on the other side of Block H: apparently some guards weren’t annihilated as expected.

“You said you cleared the path!” he scolds and picks up the phone, dialing Frost’s number. “No matter, I’ll get reinforcements and we’ll make this a party on our own, hm?” the silver grin widens at the concept of fighting his way out himself.

In the meantime, J’s mother materializes by the Endless Wall that separates The Realm Below from The Realm Above: its transparent, glass like composition is meant to keep you apart from the man you love. Why?

The response is easy: The King reigning over The Realm Above always craved your fondness and felt betrayed when you gave your attention to a mere human; deciding to give Kai a child was the epitome of mockery for the jealous emperor. He never accepted your choices had nothing to do with him. Thus he took the matters in his own hands and ensured Kai’s demise, making certain you won’t be able to save him: the mortal you loved was killed in a car crash and went to The Realm Above, which was the plan all along. Since The Joker’s father was at peace when he passed and not a lost, broken soul, he didn’t wind up in your kingdom; The Emperor sealed the borders as soon as Kai appeared on his domain, making sure you won’t touch or hear each other again.  

You tried to break the spell without success: only the one that casted such magic could reverse it and The King has no intention to do so. He likes torturing The Queen of The Damned and her beloved, that’s why he lingers in the shadows to glutton at their agony every time they meet.

Today is no exception and it sure brings The Emperor great comfort to view the aftermath of his revolting actions: it probably hurts because you’re unable to do more than gaze at the man you love. Such a fit punishment for a stuck-up Queen rejecting his proposal. You sure got what you deserved! All the powers you possess are useless against his impenetrable curse unleashed out of pure resentment.

Hmm… what’s going on?... You suddenly seem flustered and The King is trying to estimate on the motive; Kai keeps on calling your name, yet you can’t discern the sounds anyway. You swiftly fade in a hurry, neglecting to wave goodbye for a valid pretext: the sharp ache in your chest alerted that something awful happened to your son.

**************  

The Joker is lying on the floor, almost unconscious from the blood loss. The red stain under him is growing bigger and bigger, reaching the collapsed security officers that stood between J and his freedom. He was overly hyped and decided to create mayhem: being reckless provoked the dark side of his personality and he didn’t wait for his gang nor allowed the wraiths to intervene.

The Clown Prince of Crime definitely counts on his Mother’s aid, therefore he doesn’t have to worry about consequences to his endeavors. He trusts you won’t fail to show up and get him out of messy situations like this one.

“M-mother…”, The Joker wheezes as you hover over him. “Mother… h-help me…”, he begs and your hesitation puzzles your heir; his father distracted you and in exchange J got severely injured.

“… …. …. I won’t… I can’t have your father, but I’ll take you…” The Queen confesses, adamant to overcome her delay in fulfilling his wish for years. Maybe she won’t be determined like she is now if another chance will arise in the future.

“Really?...” the hope in his tone makes you sadder. “Mother…” he winces in pain, trying to touch you. “Please h-help me…It…it hurts…”

You grab his fingers and squeeze them in yours, pecking his tattooed knuckles.

“I know…I’m sorry…”

“W-why won’t you…” and he pauses, taking a last labored breath, “…help m-me?!...”

His eyelids are closing, the individual labeled as one of the worse criminals lastly fleeing the prison of his mortal half. The Joker is dead and The Prince of The Realm Below emerges from his remains, stunned to wake up next to you.

“Mother?...” he blinks and you cup his face, relieved you had the courage to do what  you deferred in the past.

“It’s ok,” you smile. “You’ll get used to the sensation, give it a few moments,” you pass your hand to his burning hair, amazed at the terrifying beauty he was blessed with thanks to his ancestry.

“Boss!!!”

“Mister Joker!!”

“Mister J, where are you?” the questions echo in the deserted Block H: his henchmen finally infiltrated the area, spooked at the unnerving feeling that something is shady. When they arrived, the Asylum’s gates were open; nobody around on the street, no guards, no medical personnel, nobody they could spot anywhere on their way to pick up The Joker as instructed.

“Over here!” Frost shouts and rushes to The Joker’s corpse, swiftly taking his pulse. “Shit!” he mumbles when he detects no heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” Panda is the second to stumble on the scene, baffled to notice his employer covered in blood wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

“We need to get out this instant!” Frost commands as the others join the small group. “Help me carry him!”

“J?..” a woman’s voice emerges. “J?” the visibly pregnant Ava runs on the empty corridor. “Oh my God!” she panics when she sees them trying to lift him up. “J?” she gently caresses his face, panicked when there’s no movement. “Is he dead?” she presses on his wounds and starts crying since the guys are quiet. “Aren’t you going to do anything??!!” she screams, desperate to acknowledge not too much can be done.

“… Mother…” The Prince articulates and you already predict his request: “… Can I stay?”

Who else understands him better to begin with? He loves the mortal and you can relate to his anguish. Of course he wants to go with you also, yet there are things that are holding him back in the human world.

“I suppose I’m condemned to ages of loneliness…” you utter and give him a violent nudge before you change your mind.

The Prince falls back into his body; The Joker gasping for air makes Frost and Panda almost drop him on the marble floor.

“J!” Ava exclaims in disbelief. “Baby??!!” she brings her ear to his lips because he’s saying something.

“Mother… Mother…” J faintly repeats and the woman misinterprets. “Yes, I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad. You already know this, hm?” she caresses his face. “Be careful!” Ava reprimands as they wrap Richard’s jacket around The Joker and Panda drags a stretcher next to them.

“Jesus boss, we thought we lost you!” Jonny adds and barely deciphers his reply:

“You’re not that lucky…”

The Joker keeps staring at The Queen and the army hidden to the rest of them: she’s leaving and although weakened, he wants to apologize for generating more sorrow when she doesn’t deserve it.

“Forgive me…” J whispers and your last words only he can discern give him unexpected bliss:

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

**************

You come near the transparent wall, seeking to find consolation even if it’s impossible: Kay is on the other side, the palm of his right hand against the invisible barrier. You cover it with yours, wishing you could tell him so much but what’s the point?...  He can’t hear you.

“I couldn’t bring him with me,” The Queen whispers nevertheless. “He wanted to stay… and I couldn’t force him…”

Something is trickling down your face and you touch it, confused.

What is this?! Tears don’t exist in The Underworld; a few drip on the barrier and it starts sizzling to your legion’s dismay. They sniff the bubbly fumes, curiously scratching at the expanding chain reaction: the wall is melting.

You and Kay watch the gap becoming larger and larger until there’s enough space to fit. Is this real or an illusion?!

I guess you’ll have to find out so you take a few shaky steps towards him, not being able to suppress your astonishment when he yanks you in his arms.  

The Emperor is lurking in the shadows, furious his unbreakable magic is dissipating with each passing moment. Your warriors are granted free passage again and they spill inside The Kingdom Above, howling while awaiting orders.  

As she hugs the man she loves, The Mother of lost spirits sneers through her clenched teeth:

“Attack!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[thaisibir]

La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink)     Rating: T (for character deaths and language)     Chapter 8/10 - Searching For Pink (length: ~7k words)     Summary: Bede doesn’t get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth.

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

When Opal returned to Ballonlea Town to bury Roger and Jasper, she didn’t take time off from her Gym Leader responsibilities or close the theatre. She kept both open, showed up promptly as she always did, and carried on as if she didn’t carry the weight of grief on her shoulders.

Bede knew, however, that her facade fell apart every time she stepped foot inside her house. Her smooth brow and stiff upper lip would crumple, then her Pokemon would run up to her so she could hold on to them for support.

“The hardest part of the day is coming back to an empty house,” she whispered to them.

Empty as in no more Roger and Jasper. The Pokemon were always around, but she would no longer see her husband working on scripts over the dinner table, or hear her son’s laughter fill the house.

“I suppose I better get right on to clearing out their things,” she said, and at that, her eyes filled up with tears.

Opal emptied the closet of Roger’s ties and suits, Jasper’s little shirts, sweaters, and pants. Boxes of toys and picture books became boxes destined for donation. Bede wanted nothing more than to help her—just as he had done for a much older Opal when she desperately needed to clear up the clutter in her house—but being a traveler from another time, all he could do was stand by and watch helplessly as frequent pauses to collect herself and choke back sobs kept Opal from working as efficiently as she could have.

She didn’t clear out everything from the house. She couldn’t bring herself to toss out Roger’s incomplete scripts. Instead she kept them in a plain, unlabeled binder which would sit next to her mother’s manual on Fairy type Pokemon. She stripped the nightstands, counters, and walls of framed snapshots of her family. Pulling the pictures out of their frames and compiling them into stacks, without regard for any sort of order, Opal tucked them away deep in the attic. Bede knew that she wouldn’t be seeing those photos in a long, long time, until he would stumble on them by accident.

“She’s cleaning up the evidence,” Bede said to Celebi, “like she’s trying to wipe out any sign that Roger and Jasper were ever here.”

He wasn’t speaking out of judgment. He knew where she was coming from. When his parents fell behind on their debts, and literally couldn’t afford to support him anymore, they dumped him at the orphanage. The hand-made clothes they left him, their attempt to give him something to remember them by, were insult to injury. The first thing Bede did was chuck his clothes in the dumpster, so that the caregivers at the orphanage had to give him new ones, and he did not talk to anyone for a week.

Once Opal ended the taxing, thankless task and ruefully rubbed at her aching back, she went outside to spend the rest of the night smoking from her armbench. That became her new evening habit. Smoking. No more reading bedtime stories to Jasper. No more bouncing ideas with Roger as he labored over writing a new play.

Holding Celebi’s hand, Bede was taken through a sad, bleak timelapse as Opal sank deep into her smoking habit, burning through up to three packs of cigarettes a day, all from her armbench, and contributing significant weight gain to her Weezing, which ate up the smoky air she’d make. Bede sat down beside her, and though he wouldn’t call himself a hugger, he wanted to give her one now. A frown seemed to set deep into her face, like etching on a stone, and her hooded, unfocused eyes didn’t register the forest’s charm and beauty surrounding her.

One early evening, Randall arrived at her house by car—the same car she had taken to see him at Wynwall. His arrival took her by surprise, but only for a moment, and her eyes returned to distant dullness.

“Evening, Opal.” He tipped off his tophat to her in greeting, then knelt down to her sitting level and took her hands. “How are you doing?”

“Randy, what are you doing here?” She didn’t answer his question. Trying to dodge either an obvious lie or the hard truth, Bede guessed.

Her twin brother made a small smile. “I thought you ought to be the first one to know. Rather than giving you a call or sending you mail, I ought to tell you in person.” The smile lingered on his lips, like good news sat on the tip of his tongue, and when he paused for effect, Opal beat him to it.

“You have a date for the wedding, don’t you? And I’m invited?”

Delight lit up his face. “Why, yes. Sharp as always, Opal. I figured you would know.” Guilt flickered in his bright blue gaze as he turned it from her face to her hands. “I...I almost didn’t want to tell you, because...well...” He trailed off as he stared at the healing scar on her right hand.

With her left, Opal gripped his shoulder. “Congratulations, Randy. Really. All my best wishes for you and your fiancee. I appreciate you coming to tell me yourself. Whenever that wedding is, I’ll be there. What kind of sister can’t come to her own brother’s wedding?” Her smile told Bede of a brave, sincere attempt to muster happiness for Randall despite the grief she wallowed in.

He stood up and turned to sit on the bench beside her, and Bede was quick enough to move out of the way. “There’s something else I need to tell you, too. Marion wants me to move to Kalos with her after we get married. I...I’m thinking of selling the family estate in the process. I wanted to run that through you before I do that.”

“You’ve been in charge of that place for the past five years now. My home is here in Ballonlea, not at Wynwall. Not anymore, not for a long time, anyway. You don’t need my approval.” She tilted her head at him. “I feel like there’s another reason you’re thinking about that, even without your fiancee’s conditions.”

Randall nodded. “The Rose family gets more rich and powerful with each year,” he admitted. “They’re talking big plans—renovating Wynwall from the ground up, mining the region for new sources of energy, and of course, repurposing the Gyms for Dynamax battles.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard,” Opal said. “My Gym’s next for reconstruction soon.”

“It’s just me against an entire family of businessmen, philanthropists, and entrepreneurs. I can’t keep up against them,” Randall went on. “Better to bow out now on friendly terms than go on to become bitter competitors and fight a losing battle. Besides, I fall in love with Kalos more and more every time I visit. It’s time to set my sights on a new land and a new life.”

“Your heart is leading you somewhere else. You should follow it.”

He smiled at her. “I’m beginning to understand why you left Wynwall and came here all those years ago.”

“I wouldn’t trade Ballonlea Town for any other place in the world,” Opal murmured. She stared off in the direction of the trail leading to the cemetery, where her spouse and child were buried.

Randall followed her gaze for a few moments before he went on, “I didn’t come here alone. When I released all the servants from my service, I made sure that they found work or retirement. Most chose to be transferred to the Rose family estate, but there are exceptions.” He gestured at the car, and Bede recognized the elderly gentleman who stepped out.

“Winston,” Opal exclaimed.

He bowed at her, then straightened up with an awkward tug at his collar. “My apologies, ma’am. No longer being a butler will take a considerable amount of adjustment.”

“Winston wanted to move to Ballonlea,” Randall said to Opal. “Proper retirement doesn’t suit him quite yet, so he’d like to work at the mart in the Pokemon Center, or at the inn, or the Dancing Impidimp. You know, somewhere that would benefit from his services. I approved the idea wholeheartedly. I thought you might appreciate having a familiar face around here.”

Opal didn’t quite smile at Winston. Having her family cruelly ripped away had also taken away her ability to properly smile and laugh for five years now. Despite that, fondness for the former butler still showed through her tone. “You are more than welcome to stay. I’ll look forward to seeing you wherever you’ll be working.”

Randall rose from the armbench, tucking the tophat under his arm. “Well, Opal, I’m delighted to hear that you’ll be coming to the wedding.” He froze midway in turning around, and returned to face her. “Ah, I almost forgot. I...” He cleared his throat. “I visited him in prison. He’s wondering if you’ll...” Randall trailed off, unable to finish.

Opal shook her head. “No,” she said in a low, tight voice. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I see. I’ll give him my regards the next time I see him, then.”

Bede was sharp enough to figure out that they were talking about Kestrel, who wondered if Opal would ever come visit him. The way they dodged about uttering his name told of how cut off he still was from the family. It had been five years since Roger and Jasper died, so Kestrel was halfway through his sentence. Bede doubted that Opal would ever want to see him around Ballonlea Town again, if he would be released in the next five years.

With a gentle hold of Bede’s hands, Celebi pulled him forward in time to the day that Opal and Randall bid each other farewell at the Wynwall airport.

Randall’s newly wedded wife from Kalos, along with his Pyroar and Boltund, stood respectfully to the side as the siblings shared a tight, long hug.

“Will you really be all right by yourself?” Randall asked.

With her chin on his shoulder, Opal mustered a smile. “I’ve already told you a hundred times, Randy. I’m not alone. I have my Pokemon. They’re—”

“Your family, I know.” He pulled back to hold her at arms’ length and return her smile. “I’ll try to call and write to you as often as I can.”

“Likewise.” Opal beckoned at Randall’s wife to come up, and she held their hands. “Go make the most of your marriage for me, okay? I know I already said this at the wedding, but I want you two to love each other with each day to the fullest. Smile at the smallest things and laugh at each other’s corny jokes. Never go to bed angry. You never know when you’ll wake up and find that it’s too late to say sorry.”

Grief and loss had given Opal weighted wisdom beyond women of her age. Looking at her brother and sister in-law, she was probably trying her hardest to recollect her own newlywed giddiness with Roger. She tried to end on a happier, more hopeful note. “If you ever plan on starting a family, I want to be the first to know.”

Randall pulled her into another hug, tears thick in his eyes. “My big sister, always leaving behind advice more valuable than pearls and golden nuggets.” He chuckled and wiped at his tears. “This is the best advice you’ve given me so far. Every other one was about warning me to stay out of trouble.”

“You better keep a close eye on him, Marion,” Opal said as she winked at his wife. “He used to be quite the troublemaker when he and I were little. He didn’t listen to me about shaving all the hair off our father’s Pyroar, and that earned him a spanking of the century.” She chuckled in what must have been the first time in a long time as Randall sputtered in embarrassment, and Marion put a hand to her mouth in mock horror.

Bede didn’t get to hear more of the conversation as he felt Celebi’s fluttering touch and warm light.

#

Brought back inside Opal’s house, he jumped at the sound of something scattering all over the floor. Something like heavy papers. He peeked into the kitchen to find that Opal had swept a stack of mail off her table. They fell like dead autumn leaves. One letter she had unfolded trembled in her hand, then it crumpled under her grip and she flung it down.

“Are you kidding me?” She burst out. “They could’ve told me in person, or at the very least with a phone call. Not through fucking mail!”

Bede flinched and pressed himself against the wall as she paced between the kitchen and living room swearing up a storm. At Celebi’s prompting, he crept over to the scattered letters and lowered himself on all fours to peer at the one Opal had been holding.

It was legible, and not too crumpled, for him to make out the fine print addressed to Opal from the Wynwall Correctional Institute. He pulled back in shock, almost hitting the back of his head against the tabletop right behind him. “Kestrel hung himself in prison.”

There came a loud, heavy crash as Opal flipped over the coffee table in the living room. Bede ducked under the dining table, hugging Celebi to his chest. He wasn’t alone in his fear of this unhinged Opal. Her and Roger’s Pokemon nearby made no effort to hide it. Alcremie ducked behind a partly open kitchen cabinet door. Mawile fixed its large jaws on the legs of a wooden chair. Togekiss hunched over the sofa, its white feathers puffed out and eyes scrunched shut. Mightyena and Obstagoon pulled back their ears and let out strained growls.

Opal knotted her hair into both fists and sank into the living room sofa with a scream. Her hands slid down to cover her face and she went silent for a while. Finally she lowered her hands to reveal wet cheeks, and horror plain in her eyes, as she took in the mess she had wrought in her house and the Pokemon cowering before her.

“Oh...oh, my darlings, my dears...I’m so sorry.”

Togekiss was the first to approach her by settling into her lap and pressing its soft weight against her. The other Pokemon were quick to join in as Opal held out her arms to welcome them into her embrace.

“I’m terribly sorry to give you all such a fright,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d trash the house and act out like this. I feel like Roger and Jasper took away the best parts of me when they died. You have the misfortune of dealing with the mess I’ve been.” Opal tightened her arms around Togekiss, pressing her cheek against its white feathers. “I was supposed to visit my brother today, you see, but just before I could, that letter from the prison came. Back in Wynwall, when Randy told me that Roger and Jasper had died, I told Kes that I would kill him. And I did.”

Something in her must have snapped that day. That news of her brother’s death was the straw that broke the Camerupt’s back. Since that day, her Gym challenge became a merciless one-sided Gym throwdown.

Bede remembered Opal being always consoling and encouraging to challengers who would lose against her. But here and now, in the darkest time of her life, she would do no such thing for any kid unlucky enough to set foot in her Gym. She spared no time nor mercy for the challengers whose Pokemon were beaten to the ground and League dreams were dashed. She kept a stern tightness about her face and posture, both hands clenched and white over the handle of her parasol. She would make no move or show of sympathy to tears of defeat and humiliation. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Matches against Opal lost their entertainment value. They became plain painful to look at. Rumors and gossip spread like wildfire among spectators.

“Poor kids. They run out of this Gym absolutely crushed.”

“Poor Opal. She’s being like this to the kids because she lost her husband and son.”

“That’s terrible, don’t get me wrong. But if you ask me, I don’t think she should be running the Gym with the way she is now.”

“I can’t watch these matches anymore. No one’s having fun.”

“I heard that the League’s going to do something about that. About her.”

Something or someone had to step in and correct her streak of ruthlessness—Bede hated to admit it, but he had to agree. She was showing no signs of stopping herself, no signs of veering off the self-destructive path she was blazing on. He saw himself, his own pain and rage, in Opal. He wanted to be the one to reach out and stop her before she destroyed herself.

“Of course, in the bid for regional championship, you give it your all and show off your true strength,” Opal once told Bede over tea and scones. “But as a Gym Leader facing challengers with stars in their eyes and dreams flying to the moon, there’s a fine balance between testing and nurturing their potential. You don’t want to be a pushover, but you don’t want to be impossible, either.”

“Sounds tricky,” Bede had said, and that made her smirk behind her teacup.

“It’s an art, my boy, one I know you have what it takes to master.”

Bede had the benefit of coming from the future to know that Opal would return to the art of being a good Gym Leader again. But how?

His question was answered when a black-haired teenage boy stepped up to challenge Opal. Though that boy wore the neutral-colored jersey, he was ablaze with boldness and determination as he sent out an entire team of Fire type Pokemon against her.

The fall of his Arcanine, Torkoal, and Ninetales left him with only Centiskorch, but this didn’t seem to deter him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Opal, but your reputation doesn’t scare me,” the teen declared. “You’ve been giving plenty of challengers a hard time. I’ll do my best to turn the tables on you!”

She didn’t respond with a jaunty smile and a witty comeback, as she usually did during matches. While the boy’s eyes were alight with the thrill of battle, hers were dark with bitter anger. She too was down to her last Pokemon—something that Bede and the audience hadn’t seen in a while. Her tightened lips only loosened as she barked orders at Alcremie to attack.

“Alcremie, use Draining Kiss!”

“Here it comes, Centiskorch. Counter with Fire Lash!”

“Alcremie, Acid Armor! Take whatever move’s coming next and get that health back with Draining Kiss!”

The Gym challenger put up a good fight. He set the whole stadium on fire with his tenacity and spirit. Bede could feel it singe the tips of his hair and his skin.

In the end, however, Opal’s experience won out. Against her Alcremie bulked up on its defense, plus her favorite move, the health-sapping Draining Kiss, Centiskorch couldn’t last. Its long body hit the ground with a heavy, undulating thud. The boy took his defeat hard. He sank to his knees and his gaze dropped to the stadium floor. A rousing applause from the spectators jerked him out of his stupor. He staggered to his feet and blinked in a stupefied daze at the show of support for him. Of all the Trainers who challenged the Ballonlea Gym since the loss of Opal’s family, this scrawny kid came the closest to defeating her.

He probably didn’t know that, though. He continued to look glum as he emerged from the Gym after a change of clothes. He was still crying, and he stopped every few steps to wipe his face on his sleeve.

He was about to cross the bridge that connected the Gym to the rest of Ballonlea Town when a slide of the automatic doors revealed Opal.

“You there,” she called to him, “remind me of your name again?”

He whirled around, then dried his face with one more wipe of his sleeve before replying. “It’s Kabu, ma’am.”

“Oh, I thought he looked familiar,” Bede exclaimed to Celebi. “I should’ve guessed from all the Fire type Pokemon he had.”

Opal approached him and jerked her head toward the path opposite of the cottages. “Come take a walk with me, Kabu. You don’t seem like you’re from around here. You should check out how beautiful these trails are. They’re the pride of this town.”

Kabu obliged, clutching at the towel about his neck while jogging up to her. Once he caught up, he matched her stride.

“I guess you’re from Hoenn?” She asked.

The look he gave her was wide with surprise. “How did you know?”

“My husband was from Hoenn. It’s the accent. That’s how I could tell.” Opal shot him a curious glance. “What do you plan on doing now?”

“I was thinking about heading back to my home region since I lost.” Kabu kicked a pebble out of the way, his eyes downcast. “I’ve grown to really like it here. I was hoping to stay in Galar.”

“You may have lost against me, kid, but don’t give up on your Pokemon League dreams just yet. You’ve got potential. Gym Leader potential.”

Kabu almost lurched to a halt in disbelief. “I-I have what?”

“You heard me right.” Opal looked him up and down. “You’re not the one I’m looking for. You’re not pink enough. No, you’re...red. A fiery, indomitable red. The kind of red that refuses to be extinguished, like a fire that doesn’t want to be put out. That was some match we just had back there. You almost gave me a run for my money, you know.” She turned her attention back to the trail ahead of her and resumed walking. “Do you always use Fire type Pokemon?”

“I try to, even though it’d make more sense to have a balance of types. Still, I want to be a Fire type specialist.”

“I see. Then I’ll put in a good word for you to Oswald, the Gym Leader in Motostoke.” She aimed a smirk at him. “He’s hard to impress, but I know that you’ll win him over with your passion, plus a little help from me. I hate to see talent being wasted. You’ll put it to good use through training with good old Oswald, I’m sure.”

“You...you’re endorsing me even after I had lost?” Kabu bowed low at the waist before her. “Ms. Opal, thank you very much for your support.” He lifted his head and tears dotted the corners of his eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

She smiled. “You already have, Kabu.”

Opal returned to the Gym stadium, which had been cleared of spectators since she had finished her match with Kabu. With both hands propped more loosely over the handle of her parasol, she took in the space and silence of the empty stadium.

“That was quite the match,” boomed a man’s voice from above. “You had me at the edge of my seat, Opal.”

She looked up and smirked. “Oh. It’s you.”

Standing not too far away from her, Bede gasped. “Celebi, I know that guy!”

As someone who was hell bent on becoming a Champion, he had taken it upon himself to know about every past Champion of the Galar region. Of course he knew the man perched on the spectators’ bench. He had just never seen the man in his younger years.

Mustard, the reigning Champion before Leon, jumped nimbly into the arena, followed by his two Urshifus. He straightened up to his full height, which turned out to be a head shorter than Opal. Nonetheless, the strength and confidence emanating from him was palpable to Bede.

Opal quirked a long dark eyebrow. “You didn’t come just to watch things heat up in here, did you?”

Mustard stuffed both hands into the pockets of his green jacket. “Well, no,” he admitted. “I’m here on League orders. You’ve sent enough kids running home crying to get the League’s attention, and not in a good way. I was supposed to warn you if you didn’t let up.”

“Warn me of what? Of being relieved from my Gym Leader post?”

Mustard put up his hands before returning them inside the pockets. “Hey, the committee takes care of all that stuff. I’m just the messenger.”

She smirked. “You were going to warn me with a battle, weren’t you?”

He winked at her. “You know me so well.” He cracked his knuckles. “I don’t talk things out—I fight them out, with my Pokemon!”

“Oh, so you want a match now?” Opal’s hand flitted to the Poke balls strapped to her belt. “Very well. I’m having my best winning streak yet. Maybe this time I got a shot at knocking the Champion off his pedestal.”

Mustard belted out a hearty laugh. “Don’t count on it, Opal. I don’t plan on breaking my winning streak, especially to you.” He chose his rapid style strike Urshifu to take on the first Pokemon Opal sent out: Weezing.

With its telekinesis, Celebi pulled Bede up to safety on the spectator benches. The stadium became alive again with the clash of opposing Pokemon and their attacks. Bede realized that at this point in time, forty something year-old Opal was like the Raihan of her day—a force to be reckoned with, the best among the Gym Leaders, and a worthy rival to the Champion. She was good, but not good enough to beat Mustard.

Despite the type disadvantage, and half the amount of Pokemon, Mustard ultimately won the upper hand and defended his Champion title. Even at Gigantamax proportions, Opal’s Alcremie fell in defeat to blows from his single style strike Urshifu. She withdrew her fainted Pokemon into its ball and handled her loss with a graceful nod.

“You still got it.”

“So do you,” Mustard said. “This is the closest match we’ve had yet.”

Opal hooked the ball containing her ace Pokemon back to her belt. “You know, Mustard, fighting that kid Kabu today reminded me of why I love being a Gym Leader. Finding kids with talent, and lifting them up to fulfill their potential, is a reward in of itself. I used to live for that, but I lost sight of it after Roger and Jasper...” Opal looked away. “Losing my son that young...he was only five. He never got the chance to turn ten and become a Trainer and have his own Pokemon. Meanwhile there are kids running around the region, set loose by their mums and dads to go on all sorts of adventures. Those kids probably don’t know how good they got it, how lucky and blessed they are to just be alive.” Her eyes grew wetter the more she blinked. “That felt so unfair. I would get so angry when I think about it. I took out my anger on all those poor kids coming to challenge my Gym. They didn’t deserve that. I want to tell them sorry for being a bad Gym Leader.”

Mustard closed the gap between them in a few strides and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Opal, you’re not a bad Gym Leader. You’re a damn good one who’s been through hell. I’ve never married, never had kids, so you’re going through pain I can’t even begin to imagine. What I do know is that sometimes it helps to take a step back and take a breather for a bit. Get a few days off from the Gym. Get some rest.” He cracked a wry grin. “You might think that I train myself and my Pokemon by punching rocks all day. But punch that rock too many times and too hard, and you’ll come away broken and bleeding.”

The Champion left Opal with that, and she seemed to consider his last remark as she stared after his retreating back.

#

Since her match with Kabu, and with Mustard, Opal relaxed the standards of her Gym challenge and her own battling style—not enough to be a walk in the park, but certainly not the approach that had steamrolled on the hopes and dreams of children, either.

She cut down on her smoking habit significantly, and forced herself out of the house more often to go on walks with Mightyena, to the grocery store, to the Gym, anything to get her moving.

Through that, she seemed to forgive the world for what it had done to Roger and Jasper. And she seemed to forgive herself, too, for what she had done to Kestrel.

For the first time since the funeral, Opal visited Roger and Jasper at the Ballonlea Cemetery. Though there was no third headstone, she left an extra bouquet of flowers for her unborn, unnamed child. Instead of standing over and before the burial sites like most people would, she would sit down and lean her back against the side of the headstone, and talk aloud as if her family was still alive to hear her.

“Another day gone by with no successor chosen,” she said with a sigh. “The next Gym Leader after me was supposed to be you, Jasper, darling, when you got older. But I suppose we can’t do anything about that now, can we?” Opal reached out with one arm to touch her husband’s name etched on the headstone. “I’m holding auditions, just as I did with you, Roger. I’m not just fighting the challengers, but testing them to see if any of them have what it takes to be a Gym Leader of Ballonlea Town. So far I’ve had no luck. Do you suppose I should lower my standards?” She paused, as if listening intently to a reply Bede couldn’t hear. Then she chuckled. “No, I better not. I’ve never been one to settle for less. That’s how I roped you in to act and sing at the theatre, after all. Speaking of ropes...” The smile died on her face. “I wonder if Kes is with you now, wherever you are. He left a note addressed to me in prison before he...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. She started another: “The prison sent it to me, but I haven’t opened it yet. I don’t know if I ever could.”

She let out a shuddering sigh, closed her eyes, and fell into a somber silence, which was gently broken when a young red-haired woman approached the graves on soft, tentative footsteps.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here,” the newcomer remarked.

Opal opened her eyes, briefly startled by the voice, but that was quickly replaced with a smile. “Mag, long time no see.”

Magnolia had grown up to cut a smart figure in the white lab coat. No longer the girl Bede had last seen, she now looked every inch the Pokemon professor everyone remembered her to be.

Magnolia bent down to add her bouquet of flowers to Opal’s. “I come every month to leave these,” she said. “I haven’t seen you around until now.”

“Yes, well, this is the first time I could bring myself to visit them.”

“I don’t blame you at all,” Magnolia said with sympathy. Opal continued to lean against the headstone, while Magnolia knelt down and removed her glasses to dab at her eyes. “I think of little Jasper every day. Sometimes I wish I could have visited you all more, be a better godmother for Jasper...”

Opal clasped Magnolia’s hand. “Don’t feel bad, Mag. You’re a very busy woman doing important research and good work for the region. I always appreciated it when you could drop by for a visit and play with Jasper. He absolutely adored you.”

The younger woman dropped her gaze to the burial sites just past her knees. “I still feel guilty. I can’t help but look back and think of the what ifs and should haves.”

Opal closed her eyes and her voice softened to a murmur. “I’m with you there. Sometimes, on the worst nights I can’t sleep, it’s not from nightmares, but from wishing that I had gone with Roger, Jasper, and the baby, so they didn’t have to leave me behind.”

Magnolia returned Opal’s grip with a squeeze.

Opal clearly tried to steer the conversation to a lighter note as she said next, “How’s your family doing back at Wedgehurst? Your daughter’s about to turn four soon, right?”

“Good memory. Yes, I’ve got to plan her birthday party when I get back.”

Opal rose to her feet and brushed bits of grass off her skirt. “Before I forget, come with me to my house so I can give you some of Jasper’s old toys. I say old, but they’re still in excellent condition.”

“My daughter would love that. Thank you.”

Opal and Magnolia left the cemetery together, and as Bede tried to follow them, Celebi led him with both hands not just through the cemetery, but through the currents of time.

Now, instead of Opal leading Magnolia into the house, Magnolia was leading Opal out of it.

“Just tell me already, Mag. Where are you taking me?” Opal asked. “What could be so important?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” the younger woman teased.

Opal’s show of anticipation and impatience made Bede crack a smirk. “She did the same to me. Got a taste of her own medicine back then, huh?”

Bede trailed after them, in the dark as much as Opal was. That is, until he realized the route he was taking. His eyes went wide as he weaved through the dense undergrowth. “Celebi, I think we’re—“

The time-traveling Pokemon nudged him further in the direction Magnolia and Opal had taken, then drew away from him and danced several figure eights in the air.

Bede frowned. “Huh? What are you trying to tell me?”

Celebi pointed after the two women.

“Okay, follow them. And then?”

Celebi didn’t make any more gestures. Instead a brilliant light engulfed it, and was gone in another blink of an eye.

Alarm spiked in Bede’s chest. Where the hell did Celebi just go? Did it just travel in time without him? Did he just get left behind in a time he didn’t belong in? He always had the Pokemon to guide him. Now what? He tried to take in deep, long breaths to calm himself. Celebi made it pretty clear to stick with Magnolia and Opal, but didn’t indicate anything else after that.

All he could do was trust that Celebi would appear to him again, whenever that was. Hopefully soon.

Bede tailed Magnolia and Opal for several more minutes, hoping with each minute that Celebi would come back for him. The two women stopped at a clearing. A clearing Bede recognized, because it was ringed with yellow mushrooms.

Opal looked around with uncertainty instead of familiarity flickering in her pale blue eyes. “Mag, where are we? What’s so special about this place?”

Magnolia didn’t answer Opal’s questions. Instead she produced a handful of cheri berries from her bag and held it out. A few feet before Magnolia’s extended hand, an orb of light materialized out of thin air. And from that light, Celebi appeared.

Everyone in the clearing reacted differently. Magnolia greeted Celebi with a warm smile, Opal gasped, while realization hit Bede like a clout to the head. Celebi traveled through time to meet up with Magnolia and Opal! When it had been accompanying Bede, it remained invisible to Pokemon and people of the past. Now it was present in that past, really present.

Opal evidently struggled to get over her shock. “I-I’ve only heard about this Pokemon in stories. Could this really be...”

Magnolia looked over her shoulder. “Yes, this is Celebi, the Pokemon that travels through time. While conducting research over Dynamax energy in Ballonlea, I stumbled upon this charming, elusive creature. After much convincing with cheri berries and my promises to bring it no harm, Celebi was kind enough to let me study its abilities. It does more than time traveling. It can show you timelines that have yet to exist, or never would. In other words, it can show you the future that could have been.”

“It can really do that?” Opal breathed. She tread on light feet closer to Magnolia and Celebi, who was eating the berries out of her hand.

“Opal, you must have lots of questions,” Magnolia said softly. “The what ifs and should haves. Celebi is here to help you answer those questions. But only if you’re okay with that. I brought you here so you could have the chance to see, but I don’t want to cause you more pain and grief if you’d rather not.”

Opal looked away for a few moments, then back at Magnolia and Celebi with conviction. “I...I want to know. I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if that day had been different.”

Finished with Magnolia’s offering of berries, Celebi flitted up to Opal, who reached out with a trembling hand. “Celebi...please show me the future that could have been,” Opal whispered. “The future that will never be.”

“Bi...” Celebi peered down at the puckered, star-shaped scar marring the palm of Opal’s right hand. It touched the scar with its small hands, tickling Opal as her fingers twitched in response. Celebi raised its hands to touch the dark hair of her temples. It pulled back to draw out a shimmering stream, and flung its hands upward to open that stream into a pool hovering above everyone.

In the depths of that shimmering pool were glimpses of faded images, voices in faded echoes. Kestrel steered his Corviknight, without a drink beforehand, safely to Wynwall. Randall greeted everyone happily at the family estate instead of the hospital. Jasper grew up, and on his tenth birthday, received his first Pokemon: a Togepi. He was showered with hugs and kisses from his parents before embarking on his adventure as a Pokemon Trainer. More years passed. A teenage Jasper won the championship tournament, but chose not to defend his title as he returned to Ballonlea Town homesick and wanting to spend more time with his mother and father. While working at the theatre and learning the ropes of managing a Gym, Jasper met an up-and-coming actor, who he fell head over heels with. A colorful, flowery wedding followed soon after that. There were smiles all around the house when Jasper and his husband proudly presented the baby girl they had adopted. More years passed, more grey found its way into Opal’s hair, and the baby girl grew up into a woman with curly blonde hair and violet eyes.

Bede’s hair and eyes.

“Whoa, what?” He blurted out. “That’s my mum.”

He didn’t care if he sounded like an idiot talking to himself. The pool kept shimmering and unraveling the nonexistent future. That woman, his mother, got married and had a baby of her own. Opal, now white-haired and stooped but still quite spry, was delighted as she got to hold her great-grandchild for the first time. Roger, looking even more wizened and elderly than his wife, leaned in for a better look. She pulled back the blanket to kiss the top of the baby’s head. That baby was Bede himself.

The pool stopped shimmering. It thinned and trickled into a river that ran down between Celebi and Opal to vanish into the grass. No one said anything for a long time. Tears had run unchecked down Opal’s face as she had looked upon a future when the lives of her family were allowed to run their course. When a tragic accident hadn’t cruelly cut them short. Finally, as if broken free from a spell, Opal stirred and wiped a sleeve over her face. Magnolia rested a hand on her shaking shoulder.

Opal lowered her arm to meet Celebi’s large, ringed eyes. “Thank you for showing me all that,” she murmured. “And thank you, Mag, for bringing me here. Some people might’ve not wanted to see a future that can’t be theirs, but I...I feel more at peace now that I’ve seen it. Now I feel like I can move on. Move forward to try and make my own long, happy future.” A thoughtful expression made her brow furrow a bit. “Those people who came into our lives...who’s to say that they won’t exist someday? Maybe I might run into any one of them in a different way.”

“You’re right, Ms. Opal,” Bede said softly. “You’ll see me again.” He noticed how young she still looked at this time, when her hair hadn’t even turned grey yet. “It’ll take you a while, but I know you’ll wait and wait for as long as it takes until you and I find each other.”

Celebi departed from Magnolia and Opal with a flash of light, and with another, it reappeared before Bede. It reached out to touch one hand to his face, and he realized that he too had been crying. Bede sniffed, hiding a small smile behind his sleeve.

“I get it now, Celebi. What she meant by her story becoming mine. Our paths have crossed before. We’re connected way beyond accident and coincidence. Ms. Opal and I...we are so alike. We’re meant to be each other’s family. And I’m meant to succeed her as the next Fairy type Gym Leader.”

“Bi!” The Pokemon nodded in affirmation, happy that the journey through time, as long and difficult as it was, led Bede to this understanding. It made a wide sweep of its arms, as if drawing out a rainbow, then offered its hands.

Bede tried to figure out what it was saying. “We...we’re going back now? Back to the present, I mean?”

Celebi nodded again. Before taking its hands, Bede snuck one last glance at Opal, who stared up after where Celebi had disappeared from her sight. The smile on her face may be faint, but it brimmed with hope.

It was time to head back where he belonged, where he and Opal would see each other again.

Notes: Musical inspiration (especially the future scene): “Time” from Inception. This wraps up Bede’s blast to Opal’s past. On to the final stretch in the present!

[ofregiums]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the king of italy, PHILIP VISCONTI, has arrived. being thirty-five years old, he is currently on the throne. many around the court call him the polymath by virtue of him being driven and adaptable, while also being pretentious and judgmental.  — played by sam heughan.

— THE BASICS

full name: philip amadeus visconti  known in history as: the crowned sage date of birth: september 1st age: thirty-five star sign: virgo profession: mathematics secondary school teacher alignment: lawful good mbti: istj spoken languages: italian, english, spanish, french, german, latin, mandarin, portuguese mother’s name: maria anna visconti father’s name: ottavio visconti ( deceased ) siblings, if any: bernard visconti ( younger brother ), victor visconti ( younger brother ), francesca visconti ( younger sister ) height: 6′3″ hair colour: red eye colour: blue

— CANON VERSE

as a boy, philip embraced his responsibilities as the heir in a somewhat reluctant matter. as agreeable as he was, he never held a desire for the crown as other crowned princes may. as long as he had his books, he was content to do whatever else anyone else required of him. 

he grew accustomed to being the smartest person in the room, no matter the age. while his brothers succeeded in the arts of combat and charm, he only felt like he had his wit and clung to that fact desperately. at times, he can appear condescending but that’s because the only way he can connect to a person is through their minds. and with a court with its share of idiots, it could be frustrating at times.

always had more of an affinity for his mother compared to his father. the more everyone tried to mold him into the older man’s image, the more likely he was to pull away from it all.

he loves his siblings but he finds it disheartening to witness how untamed they can be compared to him. it never seemed quite fair that they could do as they pleased as he was always shouldering the burdens of their family on his shoulders.

despite how much he did not want to, philip was sent off to war to fight as every young lad was expected to do at his age. he hated every single moment of it. witnessing such violence made in him incredibly ill and he did everything in his power to be pulled from it all.

his pleas broke his mother’s heart and eventually, she convinced his father to bring him home under the excuse that it was far too dangerous for the boy heir to be out in the field. philip happily returned home. 

by some miracle, his timing happened to be miraculous. the duke of castro happened to be visiting with his family and he was absolutely stunned by the sight of his oldest daughter -- antonia. 

she really got the shy, reserved young prince to open up a lot more. he didn’t feel any of the responsibilities of his impending title. they talked about books and travel and a future together, and it seemed absolutely perfect. once he got approval from his family, a betrothal was brokered and a wedding soon followed.

philip was absolutely over the moon, of course. who would not be ? he found something he never knew he was looking for. antonia was remarkable in every way. the two spent several years together with its own sets of highs and lows, the biggest low being her seeming inability to produce a child. as the future king, it was utterly frowned upon and the stress began to eat away at antonia.

despite philip’s reassurance, his wife grew more and more obsessive with the idea of giving italy its next heir. suddenly, she was not herself. there were days where she refused to leave bed, remaining under the covers in the darkened room. no amount of coaxing and pleading seemed to bring out his beautiful antonia that could make the sun rise with her smile. philip grew increasingly worried about her state. it was not a sickness he could cure. there was nothing he could do to ease the self-loathing and darkness that brewed in her soul.

he’ll never forget the last time he saw her. after days of convincing her to dine with him, philip decided instead to bring supper to his wife. the sight that awaited him was one he could have never predicted. so in turmoil with herself, antonia ran herself through with a dagger, leaving nothing but a cold body, a pool of blood, and philip’s broken heart.

philip was in absolute mourning as was more of a recluse than before. he read books to escape from his head but he was never the same after that day. after rumors began to spread that philip was too emotional and weak to be the future king, his father sent him back into the war to prove his worth to his country. just like before, he lacked the affinity for combat and very nearly perished had it not been for the saving grace of a unknown young man without an ounce of nobility. carlo cavallo saved his life, and in return -- philip made a vow to dedicate himself to ensure that he was paid back tenfold

when word of his father’s illness presented itself, philip returned home to italy. within the week, his father had passed away and by the end of the month, he himself had been crowned the new king of italy. and it fucking terrified him.

unsteady is the head that wears the crown is perhaps the best descriptor to describe philip as his new role as king. he was able to do some good, such as knighting his dear friend and helping the unfortunate. but he actively did not want to be king -- far more of a scholar than a leader. that hasn’t changed over the years.

— MODERN VERSE

books were lip’s best friends, as pathetic as it sounded. while some kids got in trouble for tantrums or the sort, he got in trouble for staying up far too late, trying to read the latest novel.

raised by a loving family surrounded by brothers and sisters. the only trauma he really had was being the oldest child and enduring the responsibilities that came with such a job.

due to his remarkable intelligence, lip ended up testing out of a year of school, advancing him forward so that he was constantly the youngest student in the classroom. but he never minded -- being smart was the one thing he was good at and he was proud of it. 

his parents moved their family from italy to london when he was fifteen years old. while his siblings grumbled about the lives they left behind, lip was excited to be around a new setting with a new culture that he could learn all about.

got offers from universities such as harvard to stanford to oxford but eventually settled on cambridge where he studied a double major of sociology and mathematics on a pre-law track.

naturally, uni was the best time in the world for someone like lip. had very little of a social life but excelled greatly in his courses and clubs he partook in. 

will skip the boringness of his academic trajectory and just say that he graduated at the top of his class with a nice offer from a big-time law firm upon graduation. of course, lip accepted.

on his first day as a junior associate, he met antonia -- someone who could match him in wit and good spirits. lip fell in love instantly and the two climbed the ranks together while forming a relationship. the day she made senior associate was the day that he proposed to her.

the two were married and it was the happy ending that his parents had always want for lip. especially when the news of antonia’s pregnancy was announced ! he was fucking terrified about the new endeavor while also quite excited, relying heavily on parenting books and his parents for advice. 

things took a sudden, horrendous turn when lip received a phone call. while he’d been at work, eight-month pregnant antonia had taken it upon herself to drive to the market to pick up a few snacks to satiate her craving. it shouldn’t have been an issue. she’d driven herself a dozen times before since going on maternity leave. but this time ended up being an outlier, and after a drunk driver ran a light -- it cost antonia her life.

the day at the hospital ended up being the most harrowing experience of lip’s life. while his wife’s life had already been claimed, the doctors were doing all they could to save the baby girl. by some beacon of miracle, she survived and a grief-stricken lip cradled her to his arms and swore that he would protect her -- and that was the story of alessandra.

the few months after losing his wife were the hardest lip could ever endure. he quit his job to be there for alessandra, and grew more reclusive. . . even with his own family. the only thing that seemed to make sense was his daughter. after about ten months of feeling like he was drowning, his sister came for a visit and finally told him to get his shit together for the sake of his daughter. tough love, but it was what lip needed at the time.

knowing that a job in law would be far too demanding of a schedule to take care of a young child, he turned to the field of education. it was quite easy to do considering the school systems were desperate for more competent teachers, and eventually, lip traded the courtroom for a classroom. 

with alessandra now at the age of nearly five, lip has gotten a hang of being a parent but being a single father has its set of struggles that he’s not sure will ever be alleviated. feels a bit disillusioned with settling as a teacher when he feels like he could have so much more to offer to the world. but alessandra comes first and that’s all that matters.

[readyplayerhobi]

Choices

; Wolf Shifter!Hoseok x Rabbit Shifter!Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff

; Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, parental issues

; Word Count: 3.4k

; Synopsis: Hoseok finally gets the courage to take you to visit his parents, despite your misgivings. What happens when the visit goes exactly how you expected, and exactly how he didn’t hope?

; A/N: I’m struggling a bit with some other stuff I’m writing so thought I’d write this. There may be a few other random drabbles in the future, so keep an eye out!

; Run Little Rabbit Trilogy

Run Little Rabbit

Daddy’s Little Peanut (no smut)

Big Bad Wolf

; RLR Drabbles

Choices

Concerns

-

Hoseok was stiff with anxiety, his normally golden complexion pale and his hand clammy in your own. Frowning at him, your lips pressed together with worry as his own are chewed to hell between pristine white teeth.

“Maybe we should just go home.” He blurts out, the fingers of his other hand gripping the leather of the steering wheel tightly as he swallows, throat working firmly. Looking at him, you watch as he stares intently at the road in front of him, the scenery passing by quickly.

“It’s okay Hoseok. You don’t have to be so worried, I’m not expecting anything from them.” Your words are soothing to him, but it does nothing to cause the wrinkled space between his brows to smooth out.

Today you were going to meet Hoseok’s parents for the first time, and he’d been stressing over it all week. Each day that had passed had resulted in him getting more snappy with his Pack before getting more fussy and needy with you.

He’d explained long ago that his parents would not accept you as his mate, and when he’d told them about your bond after college, they had been furious with him. Your poor mate had had to endure frozen relations in regards to his parents and his own choice of bond.

They were old school with their thought process, and belonged to a conservative Pack. It surprised you that Hoseok had been produced from them, given how liberal and open minded he was. But you knew that they refused to view you as anything other than weak and the kind of shifter that wolves hunted and ate.

Hoseok had told you over the years that his parents had expected him to mate with a wolf shifter, and him being with you was bringing shame to his parents and his old Pack. It had startled you to know this, but you knew that shifters often had old prejudices that were hard to lose.

Your own parents had only met Hoseok in recent months, purely because they were terrified of him. The town you came from had no predator shifters at all, and Hoseok had had to dope himself up on so many scent suppressors, he hadn’t been able to smell anything the whole weekend.

It was worth it though, as they’d warmed to him by the end. Though they refused point blank to visit, but you knew Hoseok didn’t blame them. You did live in a Packhouse with a ridiculous number of wolves coming in and out all the time.

But the meeting with your parents had spurred him on to finally arrange a day to meet with his own. And your pregnancy had been the icing on the cake to encourage him to make everything happen.

You were both young by shifter standards, being only 24 years old and bonded for two years already. But you’d both decided last year to start trying for a baby. You both had solid jobs, with Hoseok as the Alpha of Mancita City and you as a freelance graphic designer.

A member of Hoseok’s pack had mentioned the troubles of cross-type pregnancies and it had gotten you both curious. It was common knowledge that predator and prey matings rarely produced children as often as same type meetings, but that was about the extent of what you’d learnt.

Meeting with your doctor and a fertility specialist, you’d both discovered that the chances of a pregnancy were very low for a couple like Hoseok and you. The predator and prey genes fought each other, which resulted in higher numbers of miscarriages than normal. It also meant bringing a child to full term was harder as well.

As such, you’d both decided to begin trying as neither of you knew how long it could take. The doctor had told you that you could be lucky and get pregnant the next day, or still be childless 15 years from now.

A year and a half later, you were now six months pregnant. The doctor was pretty confident that you would both be parents soon enough, with the pregnancy unlikely to be miscarried now. And there was a good chance that even if the baby was premature, it would survive.

It hadn’t been pleasant however, with you suffering a miscarriage after only four months of trying. That had been a hard reality pill to swallow, but Hoseok had helped you through it all while shouldering his own grief.

But Hoseok wanted to try and resolve the frigid relationship between his parents and you, hoping that the imminent arrival of their first grandchild would be enough to appease them. After all, neither of you had any idea about whether or not it would be a rabbit or a wolf.

If you were being honest with yourself, then you didn’t think anything he did would change their minds. They were willing to not talk to their son over you, so why would a baby change anything? At the end of the day, you weren’t going away anytime soon.

Still, you agreed to go for Hoseok’s sake. He wanted to try, and you knew he was desperate to get their approval in some way. It actually kind of broke your heart, how upset he’d got when his mother had rejected you. He idolised her, so to hear her speak such vicious words to the mate he loved had been painful.

But even after all your supportive words to him, and agreeing to go meet his parents this afternoon, you still expected them to have the exact same reaction and so had steeled yourself towards it. It wasn’t going to hurt you that they didn’t like you or want you.

It was going to hurt to know that they were willing to make Hoseok hurt because of it, and it’d be even more painful to know that they would reject your child.

Hoseok lets out a slow breath, his cheeks puffing out as the air is expelled slowly while taking his hand out of yours to rub his face. His russet hair is all over the place and you smile softly, reaching over to arrange it carefully.

“If you feel uncomfortable at all, then tell me and we go okay? You...you and the baby are most important and if you feel stressed then we leave. I don’t want anything to happen.” You know that he’s supposed to be talking to you, but instead he’s just muttering to himself. Nothing leaves your mouth though, as you let him stress about it quietly.

It’s only by the increased tension he’s showing, along with the slowing down of the car, that you realise you’ve finally reached his childhood home. The house is unassuming and blends into every other house, with the lawn neatly done and a splatter of colour from the flowers in pots.

A black pick up is sat in the driveway alongside a white sedan, and Hoseok lets out the softest whine of discomfort as he parks behind it. Reaching over, you turn his pinched face to your own and sigh at the wolf amber eyes that are staring out at you.

Running your thumb along each cheek, you smile gently and lean over, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and comforting kiss. “I’ll let you know. It’s only for an afternoon right? I’m here for you too.”

He looks nervous at that before nodding and exiting the car. As soon as you make it around the side of the car, Hoseok is recapturing your hand in his tightly. You know he has a thing about holding your hand, but right now it’s purely for comfort and so you say nothing, squeezing his fingers reassuringly.

“Okay...let’s go.”

-

It’s silent inside the car as Hoseok practically breaks the limit to get away from the house. You chew on your lip slowly with sadness as you stroke your belly, internally telling your baby that it is loved and wanted by its parents. The rejection from his parents is something you’d known would happen the whole time, and yet hearing it was heartbreaking still.

It was even more heart wrenching to know that they only wanted to meet their grandchild if it was like them. Fully prepared to never meet it if it followed its mother instead.

The car jerks suddenly to the side of the road after fifteen minutes, before Hoseok parks and applies the handbrake. You’re currently in the middle of some fields, with no traffic on either side and you’d consider it peaceful any other time.

There’s nothing for a few moments before Hoseok suddenly gets out, slamming the door shut and pacing alongside the car. The hairs on your arm rise and you quiver in fear as he screams out, the anger in his voice terrifying your rabbit.

A vicious kick to a tyre follows before you hear a sound you’ve rarely heard before. It’s distressing, and immediately your rabbit demands you go to your mate and comfort him.

He’s moved to a fencepost alongside the road and you watch in horror as he slowly slumps down it, legs lying carelessly while he covers his face with his hands. Opening the door, you move over to him quietly and awkwardly shift down onto the ground with him, wincing at the stones that dig uncomfortably into your knees.

But you ignore that pain and the discomfort that would normally have you whining or complaining. Because your mate, the proud and strong Alpha who wears his heart on his sleeve, is breaking down at the side of the road in a way you’ve never seen.

His breath hitches on a sob and you reach forward, resting a hand on shoulder before slowly pulling him into your arms. He’s careful to avoid pressing on your stomach, but his own arms wrap around your waist while his face buries into your shoulder, his own shaking with his cries.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, slowly running your fingers through his hair comfortingly while he weeps in your embrace. He’s never cried like this before, not even when you miscarried and he was trying to be so brave for you. But right now, it sounds like his soul is being ripped from him and you can’t stop the sympathy tears.

Hoseok is shaking when he finally speaks, his voice raspy and thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I should have never taken you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Shaking your head, you kiss his hair gently and make soothing noises to him before finally speaking. “It’s okay. I was expecting it. I think...I don’t think you’d accepted what you knew deep down. Your family is important to you, I see that with how you are with me and the baby. So for your parents to do what they did, to say what they did - I can’t imagine how much that hurts.”

As you speak, you flashback to the scenes of his parents rejection.

“A wolf has no place with a prey shifter, and especially a rabbit at that. We eat them for a snack when shifted. Have you ever thought about eating her?” His father asks, expression sneering while his eyes track up and down your body with disdain.

Hoseok pales immediately, eyes widening while his jaw slackens. It’s silent before he’s shaking his head. “What? No. Never. Why would I…”

He’s interrupted though by his mom, who sits back against the couch and looks at her son with such disappointment. The glance has your mate shrinking into himself and it makes you angry. Your mate is an Alpha, who makes wolves quiver with a glance, and yet he’s here trying to make himself smaller in front of his own parents.

“Hoseok has never been like that. He’s a wonderful man. Smart, loyal and a fantastic leader. His Pack in college loved him, and the Mancita City Pack love him just as much.” You defend him, resting a hand on his arm to let him know that you’re here.

The wave of resentment and anger that rolls off both parents at your words makes you want to curl up into a ball, a whimper being choked in your throat. His mother shakes her head at your reaction while rolling her eyes, scoffing lightly.

Hoseok tries again, his voice weak. “Our baby...your grandchild is due in three months. I just...thought you might like to meet first and finally meet my mate. I love her. A lot. And I know she’s not what you want, but she’s everything I want. I’m excited to be a daddy.”

His hopeful tone almost makes you cry, as you know he’s desperate to have you accepted by the people he loved most before you. It only takes a glance to know that he’s going to be sorely disappointed with the results.

A deep sigh leaves his father, shaking his head while his hands come up to almost ward you both away. “We want nothing to do with her. We’re proud of you with Mancita City, but we can never be proud of that.” He points at you, and if you were a more dominant person, you’d snap back.

His parents were surprisingly submissive compared to their son, but it’s frustrating to know you’re even lower than them.

There’s a stunned silence from Hoseok before his mother speaks again. “If the child is a wolf, then you may bring it to us. But we’ll only agree to that if you are on your own. If it’s like its mother, then don’t bother.”

Hoseok becomes as stiff as a stone at that, and you get the distinct impression that if he was in his wolf form, his hackles would be raised. There’s nothing for a moment before you feel the blast of indignant dominance erupt from him as he stands abruptly.

At the sudden movement, his parents both cower slightly and you watch as they gulp, jaws clenching as they fight the need to offer submission. Shifters were immune to their own parents or children until around 17 or 18, upon which they were just as prone as anyone else.

And Hoseok was very dominant.

His chest is rumbling in a constant growl while his teeth are bared in anger. “So you will only accept my child if it is a wolf? If it’s a rabbit, then you don’t want anything to do with it?” The disbelief is strong in his words and you stand too, running a hand along his back that shivers with restrained emotion.

“Too bad. You either greet my children as loving grandparents, or you don’t see them at all. You do not get to pick and choose which of my children you will see and love. And if you’re going to act like this, then I don’t want you to meet them anyway. I don’t want to hear from you again unless you’re willing to look past your outdated prejudices. My mate is wonderful, and my children will be loved unconditionally. Accept it, or you’ll never speak to me again.”

With that, he grabs your hand and storms out of the house without a second word.

He looks up at your words, his eyes golden and watery with tears that slowly fall down, adding to the wetness that already shines on his face. You’ve never seen Hoseok look this vulnerable, and it pains your heart to see him like this.

“I thought...no. You’re right. I knew. I just didn’t want to.” His face begins to crumple then, lips pouting desperately as he tries to stop yet more tears. “How could I stay there when they were saying such cruel things to you? And how could I ever want to talk to them again after they said they’d only meet our baby if it met their expectations?”

He places a warm palm over your protruding stomach, stroking gently while his face takes on a loving look. “It’s my baby. Our baby. Their grandbaby. How can they not want to meet them?” His voice is almost childlike now, reedy and thin with confusion and desperation.

Cuddling up to him, you sigh gently as you press your nose to his hair. He smells like he always does, and it comforts every cell in your body. “Some people can’t change. Whether it’s because they can’t, or they don’t want to, I don’t know. But Hoseok...I know they’re your parents...but if they’re going to be like that then maybe we’re better off without them.”

Hoseok is silent at that, and you know that he’s warring between the desperate need of a child to get the approval of his parents and the protective mate and father that he needs to be. In fact, neither of you say anything for a long time and you both watch as cars drive past.

It’s peaceful out here, with the gentle sound of wind blowing through the grassy fields and the chirping of birds flying overhead. For a moment, you think Hoseok has fallen asleep given how quiet and calm he seems before he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up and ruffling his red hair.

“You’re right. We are. It hurts...but it’s their problem. I’ll leave the door open on their side but it’s their decision to walk through it. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t...keep trying to just get rejected. And I refuse to make our baby collateral damage. If our baby turns out to be a rabbit, then there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting my parents hurt them.” He says vehemently, hands fisting at the thought.

Running a hand along his arm, you can’t help but smile at how protective he gets. You know that your baby will never want for anything with him, and they’ll never have a more protective or loving daddy. It makes your stomach fizz with happiness and love for him, a stark contrast to the emotions you’d been feeling up to now.

Tugging at his shirt, you bring his face down to catch his lips against your own. There’s a slight hesitation as Hoseok makes the decision to let go of his anger before he relaxes against you, lips molding to your own as he kisses back with fervour.

His hand comes up to rest against your cheek, fingers still shaking with residual emotion before he pulls away slightly, hot breath fanning against your lips. He leans his forehead against yours before opening his eyes, granting you the beautiful sight of his normal mahogany eyes before his lips kick up in that beautiful smile.

“I love you. I love everything about you,” Both hands are pressed against your cheeks now and he looks at you earnestly, almost as if he can make you feeling his sincereness. “I love that you’re a rabbit and the opposite of me. I love your personality, I love your submissiveness, I love your body and I just love you. And I will love our baby, no matter what they are. I swear. I will not be my parents.”

Looking deep into his eyes, you feel a calmness that you haven’t felt for the past few weeks. Smiling, you nod and kiss him softly. A gentle kick in your stomach attracts your attention downwards and you giggle, taking his hand and pressing it to your belly.

He’s quiet before he feels the tiny flutter of your baby, asking for attention as well. His smile is heartbreakingly sweet and the tears in his eyes this time are from happiness. A hiccuping laugh leaves him before he bends down, pressing a kiss to your stomach before stroking gently. “I love you peanut. Daddy can’t wait to meet you.”

Sitting back up, he watches you for a moment before tugging you into his arms. He doesn’t need to say anything further as you nuzzle into his neck, contentment moving through your entire body.

You don’t need to look into the future to know that Hoseok will never be like his parents, and you’ve never felt more sure of a thought than that.

[kaqeyamas]

HOLDING MY OWN HAND

[ natalia dyer, twenty three, female, she/her ] ━ hey, I just saw [ jacqueline “jackie” buchanan ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ twenty three years ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ college student ]. I hear they’re known to be [ passionate & childish ] and [ impulsive & dependent ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ oversized sweaters, expensive liquor, matching lingerie, 90′s horror films ]. ━ [ ooc: summerlea, 24, est, she/her ] 

WALKING ALL ALONE DOWN A ROAD

— it’s said that most people’s lives are predetermined before they even leave the womb, and jacqueline edita buchanan was living proof that sometimes it was actually true. the second child of katrina buchanan, born just a year and a half after her brother, caleb, jackie was a surprise, to say the least. having lost her husband eight months after the birth of their first child while in the line of duty, katrina had been forced to keep the household together, which resulted in the new mother taking over double shifts at a local diner to stay afloat on the bills, as well as keep food on the table for herself and her son. one night, she met a man by the name of joseph godfrey, a businessman from new york who happened to run a quite successful newspaper. the two hit it off immediately, and after a few months of weekend visits, katrina found herself pregnant with the child of a man who was already married. he made it very clear that he wanted no part in the baby’s life, though he promised to pay his dues and whatever else the woman needed. too proud, katrina declined, deciding she would raise their daughter on her own. 

— the family struggled a majority of jackie’s life. her mother worked nights and picked up odd jobs around town to make end’s meet, working herself to the point where her children barely saw her, let alone actually knew her. It wasn’t until jackie was twelve that katrina lost her job, and at her wit’s end, afraid of losing everything she had worked so hard for, agreed to accept joseph’s money. it was more than enough to get by, and truthfully, the family wanted for nothing. especially jackie, being as he had set up a bank account for his only daughter, pending terms and conditions. 

— much like his own sons in new york, joseph expected a lot of his children, and while he finally took an interest in jackie around the same time the checks began to flow, the young girl excited to finally have a father figure in her life, she quickly came to realize that he wasn’t like the parents her friends had. he had groomed his children for success, and despite the lack of presence in her life, he expected the same of jackie, equating success to love. 

— jackie has always had bad grades, and she was prone to getting herself into trouble with a foul mouth and knack for underage drinking, and she’s never really been great at much, or at least that is what she has been convinced over the years since meeting joseph. no matter how hard she tried, she was never able to make him proud, something she desperately wanted to do more than anything else. still, the man continued to fund her credit cards as well as pay her college tuition when the time came, something he would hold over her head until the day she made his investments worth it.

— jackie was in her first year of college when she was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia, something she keeps hidden from all of her friends, relying on the medications in her bedside table to keep fro being in pain each and every day. she’s ashamed of her condition, and feels as though it sometimes limits her, but she refuses to let anyone know because she doesn’t want it to define her. she doesn’t want pity or to be treating differently because of it. 

— college was a game changer for the girl, finally giving her the opportunity to move out and become more of her own person. of course, she never shook the crushing feelings her father had left with her, still popping in on her life from time to time despite living in new york. jackie’s low self esteem was easily to blame for a lot of the decisions she made, most of them involving alcohol and boys. once she was old enough, or not, she had began seeking approval from anywhere she could find it, usually ending up in somebody’s bed for the night, or drinking until she couldn’t remember how she had gotten home. the older she got, the more she relied on these things, often finding herself in sticky situations. 

— boys and bad grades aside, jackie has still managed to come out somewhat on top, a bubbly and ditzy personality lighting up nearly every room she entered. she has come to terms with the decisions she makes, comfortable with the parties she attends and the attention she craves. she’d grown to equate a man’s touch to love, and approval of any sort the way. she’s downright messy and still trying to figure everything out, but at the end of the day, the only thing she really wants is somebody to love her, and make her believe she’s worthy of it.

AND TELL ME I WON’T ALWAYS BE LONELY 

high school / local connections : 

— LUCY BIRCH, jackie’s oldest and best friend from high school. the two were two peas in a pod, creating trouble for the world every chance they found. too physical to just be friends, they have crossed the line far too many times, usually while drunk, and it has caused problems between them more times than they could keep track of, feelings complicated an otherwise effortless friendship. 

— LENNON, under construction.

— CASSI, under construction. 

— HAZEL, under construction. 

friend / enemy connections : 

—

—

—

romantic / sexual connections : 

— WILLIAM BLOOM, life long friends. shared their first kiss at the age of twelve, at a middle school party. a complicated relationship with mixed feelings of longing and jealousy. now that they’re older, they’ve fallen into the routine of holding hands in public and shedding clothes behind closed doors. jackie is in love with him, but she’s terrified of what that means.

— ORION DEVINE, under construction.

— GABRIEL JOHNSON, under construction.

— KENDRICK HENDERSON, under construction.

— BEN JONES, under construction. 

[thegreenfairy13]

Dog Sitter Part 10 - Friends, At Last

A Gobblepot fanfic. When Oswald loses his dog Ed, Jim Gordon finds it and does an excellent job when it comes to taking care of the mobster’s furry friend. Read it on Ao3 here.

Oswald wakes later than usual. Yawning, he turns onto his left side and hugs his pillow close. He’s still so very tired and utterly exhausted.

“We’ll have cereals for breakfast,” he grumbles into his blanket, waiting for his son to protest, insisting on a sumptuous meal instead.

The complaint never comes and despite better knowledge, he hopes his boy is still sound asleep beside him. After yesterday's events, Martin insisted on sleeping in his own room but crawled into his father’s bed sometime in the middle of the night. Oswald had been glad for it - he had slept better himself knowing his kid was safe and sound and breathing steadily only a few inches away from him.

He yawns again and rolls around. His eyes protest vehemently when forcing them open against the bright light of another sunny day in New Heaven. He stares at the empty space beside him and swallows down a rush of anxiety.

Martin is still safe, he tells himself. He simply woke up and is probably sitting in the living room, watching his cartoons and pestering Jim.

Jim!

For a moment, he completely forgot about the GCPD’s Captain sleeping on his couch. Hissing in pain when dragging his aching limbs out of bed, he puts on a robe and starts hobbling downstairs. He should really consider installing an elevator he thinks when gripping the handrail tightly and jumping down the stairs on his one good leg.

When finally reaching the living room, the panic returns full force. There’s neither a trace of Martin nor Jim and even Ed is nowhere to be seen. Oswald already wants to scream his boy’s name on top of his lungs when hearing Jim’s voice drifting over from the kitchen.

Spinning on his heel, he limps closer as quickly as possible.

“I swear it tastes good,” he hears the other man say then, sounding more than just slightly pleading.

Pricking up his ears, Oswald decides to hide beside the door instead of simply entering. After all, Cobblepot is known for his curiosity. Also, he’s dying to find out what his little one might have possibly done to make the great Jim Gordon sound so desperate that early in the morning.

“My dad never puts maple-syrup on bacon,” Martin states in return and the black-haired man smiles, bemused. His little one is a picky eater. Good luck, Gordon, he thinks, baiting his kid into trying new food.

“I’m not putting it on it,” Jim objects. “I’m caramelizing it,” he explains quietly. “It improves the taste.” Oswald gapes. He wouldn’t have thought it possible a man living on hot dogs and hamburgers even knows what that is.

There’s a short pause after that, probably because Martin is considering the cop’s words.

“That doesn’t sound right,” the little boy judges determinedly.

Suppressing a snicker, Oswald leans against the door in order to hear them better.

“Tell you what,” Jim replies with all the authority he’s is able to muster, “you’ll try a tiny piece of the bacon. If you like it, we’ll serve it that way. If not, I’ll start from scratch and even use a new pan.”

“If you are indeed using a fresh pawn, I’ll accept your offer,” Martin answers hesitantly and the mobster has never been prouder. This low, gruff voice is able to send shivers down the most hardboiled criminals’ spines while the little prince of Gotham isn’t even affected.

Oswald hears some shuffling afterward and what he assumes to be breathless tension on Jim’s part.

“It’s not bad,” the kid answers thoughtfully. “You think dad will like it?”

Jim snorts. “Wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise,” he tells the child and then there’s the sizzling sound of more bacon being dropped into a pan followed by a smell that makes the slim man’s mouth water.

“So what’s next then? Scrambled eggs meet your approval?” the cop asks expectantly.

Oswald assumes Martin must have nodded in response cause moments later he hears some more clattering.

“I prefer to whisk the eggs in a bowl first. Makes them fluffier,” he explains. “Gimme some butter, young man.”

“Dad uses olive-oil,” the kid objects.

“Yeah, but you wanted me to help you create your very own signature-breakfast for your dad. So we gotta do it a bit differently than him but still tasty, right?” Jim counters easily.

The little one makes a skeptical noise in response.

“Look, I learned how to make scrambled eggs in France and they are known for their excellent food.”

There’s silence after Jim’s last statement and Oswald wonders what might be going on behind the door. He imagines his kid and his cop being caught in a staring contest neither of them is willing to lose. Also, when would the cop have been to France? Jim Gordon anywhere else than in the United States? He has a hard time believing that statement.

“Same procedure as with the bacon?” Jim proposes and then the clattering finally continues.

“It’s good,” Oswald hears Martin say after a while, sounding entirely flabbergasted. The gangster has to bite his fist else the pair would hear his chuckle.

“Told you,” Jim sing-songs proudly. “Did anyone ever tell you, you’re even bossier than your old man?” he asks teasingly.

“Dad isn’t old,” Martin mumbles angrily.

“It’s just a saying,” the cop replies placatingly. “So, what else do you want me to do? Shall I dance for your father while you serve him breakfast?” Oswald almost chokes at the image.

“I can’t imagine you’re any good at dancing,” Martin answers thoughtfully. “You don’t have the build.”

Jim chortles. “That’s very rude, young man,” he tells him politely.

“I’m just being honest.”

“Well, that’s a good trait,” Jim ends their argument placably. “So, we gonna need some bread with that, too. Any suggestions?”

“We have dough in the fridge,” Martin answers. “I’ll start the oven,” he decides.

“Ah, stop,” Jim interrupts. “You’re not coming near anything that’s hot, sharp, or in any matter fit to hurt you.”

“I can operate the oven. And dad taught me how to handle knives.” His son is clearly miffed with the cop.

“I’m sure about that,” Jim mutters. “But if you hurt yourself while I’m around, I’m pretty certain your dad’s gonna feed my bones to a lion.”

“We don’t have a lion.”

Jim considers those words. “Still.”

“Fine,” the little one huffs at last. “You’re dad’s lackey after all.”

The mobster behind the door cringes. A little chat about decent behavior seems in order. He already dreads Jim’s opinion on that last sentiment. On the other hand, he’s pretty satisfied with his boy. After all, Martin is dealing with Jim Gordon. Most people getting into an argument with the cop don’t even have a slight chance of winning that game. His little Martin is a true Cobblepot after all.

“I’m not your dad’s lackey,” Jim sputters in response.

“Sure you are,” the kid states matter of factly. “You’re a cop. And dad has all cops on his payroll.”

The mobster’s heart almost stops when hearing his kid’s words. That’s really not a topic he wants Martin to discuss with the unruly lawman. After everything that happened with Pyg, Jim firmly believes his colleagues returned to being incorruptible. Which, of course, is a huge lie. Jim’s still pretty much fighting his war alone, blind to the system and nature of their beloved city. On top, his good friend Harvey had been the first to take bribes from the Penguin again once things returned to normal - well, as normal as things can get in Gotham.

It takes a moment for the policeman to compose himself. “Well, I’m not getting paid by your father,” he replies at last.

“But you take care of Ed. And you came to protect dad yesterday. So you have to be one of his lackeys. Why else would you do that?” the kid challenges and Oswald is torn between barging in on them and hearing Jim’s answer.

“I, I like dogs,” the man stammers lamely and the mobster wants to scoff. But he really needs to know how the rest of their conversation unfolds now.

“That’s all?” Martin sounds incredulous. “Dad would pay well, though” he adds smugly.

Oswald wonders if Jim is sweating profusely at this point. He is for sure.

“I’m a cop, boy. I can’t take money from a man running…” At this point, the policeman is struggling for the right words. He’s clearly not quite certain how much Martin knows about Oswald’s less legal activities.

To his credit, he doesn’t continue. Jim’s behavior gives him a little stab to the heart. He remembers when the cop met his mother. How he pleaded with him not to tell her about his career as a mobster. Jim indulged him back then. Now, he’s not giving him away either. For all the times Jim went behind his back he at least never sold him out to the people he truly cares about.

“You mean you can’t take money from a gangster?”. Martin interrupts the cop's musings. “Cause that’s what my dad is. The king of all gangsters,” he adds proudly and Oswald almost stumbles through the door.

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Jim replies, entirely lost now and the man behind the door pales.

“Dad told me about you,” Martin continues. “He says you think you are better than anyone else in Gotham. He told me you did bad things to him in order to do good and made everything worse.”

“Is that so?” he asks, taken aback.

“You locked up my dad,” he accuses and Jim doesn’t protest.

“Why do you think my dad is a bad man?” the kid challenges, sounding every bit as infuriated as his father shortly before throwing a tantrum.

“I, I don’t think your dad is bad man,” Jim replies, obviously confused. “I just think he occasionally does bad things. I’m sorry, though” he finishes barely audible and Oswald finally decides to save him from his misery.

Putting on his most cheerful smile, he opens the door and marches in. “There you are!” he announces with false enthusiasm when three pairs of eyes are being directed at him.

Ed gets up and practically flees the kitchen while Jim sighs a breath of relief. He’s pretty sure the man has never been happier to see him.  

“What are you doing?” the gangster asks innocently. Bending down, he presses a soft kiss to his child’s forehead.

Jim merely rolls his eyes. “How long have you been standing behind that door?” he asks while turning off the oven and starting to serve their meal. “There,” he grumbles while pushing a plate into the pale man’s hands.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he retorts sweetly. “Thank you, that looks delicious,” he adds, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thank your son,” he scoffs grimly. “He made breakfast.” Oswald doesn’t miss the wink Jim directs at his kid.

“That’s wonderful,” Oswald states cheerfully. “We’ll have to talk later,” he whispers then, for his son alone to hear.

Shaking his head, Jim sits down with them and starts chewing. Up close and in the harsh morning light, the cop appears to be more worn down than ever. He’s still wearing yesterday’s rumpled shirt, a short stubble started growing along his jaw, accentuating his bruises even more. The color beneath his eyes hasn’t improved either. Sometimes the crime-lord wonders if only his job is draining his sometimes foe, sometimes ally.

“You don’t happen to have a spare toothbrush?” the cop asks him between two sips of his coffee.

“Are you asking me for a favor?” the gangster suggests jokingly and Jim’s face darkens. Oswald could kick himself. Teasing the good Captain isn’t worth ruining their breakfast.

“There’s a guest-bathroom upstairs. Second door on the left. You’ll find everything you need.”

“Thank you,” he answers quietly, leaving father and son alone.

Uncomfortable silence spreads between the pair of them while Oswald is debating with himself how to tell his boy he should treat that special cop more delicately.

“I like him,” Martin passes his judgement once he has finished his orange-juice.

Everything Oswald wanted to tell his kid suddenly leaves his mind. Despite his young age, he looks ridiculously earnest. He can’t help himself and starts laughing heartily.

“And why’s that, my little prince?” he demands to know, wiping his eyes.

Martin shrugs. “Most of your friends tried to kill you. I don’t think he’ll try to take you away forever.”

At that statement, the gangster’s heart breaks a little. His son shouldn’t be constantly afraid for his father to die. And he shouldn’t like people simply for not trying to kill his dad. But it had been him to teach him never to trust anyone, so why is he surprised? For the thousandth time, he wonders if he did right when adopting his boy and bringing him into his crazy life. All he ever did was teaching his kid to fear the world and to make himself feared. There should be more, though. His son deserves stable relationships, not fear. Even if fear keeps him alive.

Heaving a sigh, he leans back against his chair. “I like him too,” he confesses quietly. “Now eat up. Butch is coming to pick us up soon.”

To Oswald’s utter amazement, their Sunday continues to be a quiet one. He would have expected Jim to start bickering with him the moment he wakes up. Instead, he takes Ed for a walk once he looks mostly human again. Afterward, he settles back down in the living room and watches cartoons with Martin while Ed is curled up in his lap.

It’s an unsettling feeling how well the cop fits into his little family - and how well it feels having him around. For all his mistakes, Oswald is pretty certain the cop would die trying to protect an innocent kid and his furry baby. He can finally calm down now with his silent guard occupying his living room.

When Butch arrives to tell them the jet is ready Jim doesn’t object when Oswald offers him to take him aboard while the thug drives his car back to Gotham. For the second time today he wonders if there might be something seriously wrong with the cop.

Even on the flight back he stays uncharacteristically quiet. They don’t talk much but now and then Jim glances fondly at the little boy sleeping beside the gangster.

“What?” Oswald demands to know, slightly annoyed with the man’s stubborn silence.

“Nothing,” Jim replies. “I just thought he’s your perfect image. If I wouldn’t know, I’d never guess he’s adopted.”

Thoughtfully, the criminal runs his fingers through his kid’s hair. “He’s much more,” he admits quietly. “And I very much hope the world will treat him better than me,” he adds, looking the cop sharply in the eye, meaning not the entire world at that moment but Jim alone. For he can only appeal to him right now.

He looks away, ashamed. “I’ll try,” he replies softly after a while. “I told you before, I don’t want him to become an orphan.”

Oswald considers the sincerity of those words but as ever, he can’t rely on words or promises alone. He needs commitment - something Jim had never been able to give.

“How can you promise that?” he asks. “You dedicated your life to chasing and hunting down criminals. So why should I believe that changes now?”

“It doesn’t,” Jim agrees. “But I learned my lesson with Sofia. I won’t try to bring you down again unless you leave me no other choice.” And it’s true. His efforts to bring him behind bars have lessened after that whole ordeal yet that doesn’t mean the man has come to his senses.

The mobster sneers as he shifts beneath his boy’s sleeping form. “You always had a choice, Jim,” he reminds him. “You just choose to make me your enemy number one.”

Staring down at his hands, the cop doesn’t reply. “Just don’t make anything horrid enough for me not to look away,” he mutters, averting the criminal’s eye.

If not for his son the Penguin would have probably exploded. What Jim is offering is the height of insolence - even if it’s more than he would have ever thought possible.

“So you are saying,” he drawls, “you’d arrest me only if my actions violated your sensitive set of morals. Congratulations, Jim. That would make you the most crooked and most hypocritical cop in the history of Gotham. Wouldn't it simply be easier to accept the generous offer I already made your colleagues and finally play by the rules?”

“No,” Jim protests firmly. Scooting his hand desperately through his hair Jim stares pleadingly at the mobster.

“And where would your limits be?” the Penguin urges. “How far would I be allowed to go before you come chasing after me again, hmm? Threatening to kill a man is obviously not far enough. What could I do before you hunt me down like an animal? Go on, tell me how your morally justifiable system of corruption would work. I am what I am. Nothing more, nothing less - and that won’t change.”

“I, I don’t know,” Jim utters softly. “The only thing I know is that I am continuously expanding those limits since I met you. I can’t kill you. I can’t get rid of you. I can’t take a child’s father. Not again,” he admits brokenly.

“Do you mean Mario Pepper?” the kingpins asks, half mockingly, half seriously.

Jim nods. “I can’t do right in Gotham. No matter how hard I try….” His voice trails off. “It seems every good deed is being paid with pain and suffering. I can’t stop doing what I’m doing or being who I am. But I can…” The cop is wringing his hands, unsure how to continue the sentence he started.

The kingpin knows Jim went as far as possible. He can’t promise any more, not without the man he is ceasing to exist.

His morality, his quest to fight all evil, his wish to build a better world, those are the things which had attracted the mobster in the first place. Ironically, he’s drawn to the man for all the reasons he should have stayed away from Jim. It seems he’s attracted to anything able to ruin him. But now he’s got more to live for than his own megalomania. He has a family to protect.

“It seems like we should come to an agreement,” Oswald decides at last.

Looking up sharply, he gestures for the gangster to continue.

“I think it would be best if we stayed as far away from each other as humanly possible. In order for you to be able to keep your promise.” The wolfish grin he directs at the cop is hardly able to hide his sadness  - yet what must be done, must be done.

“I can drink to that,” he retorts drily and the kingpin gestures for the steward to bring them a glass of champagne.

“I suppose that makes us friends, at last,” the mobster states and for once, Jim doesn’t protest.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Hi! I haven't followed you for long and I would love to get to know you better. So maybe you could talk about your favorite characters and what you love about them? xxx

Hey lovely! It’s great to hear from you! 

I have too many favourite characters to name so I’ll just choose the ones that come to mind:

Prue Halliwell (Charmed)

Anyone that’s been following me for a while will know Prue Halliwell is my favourite character of all time. I grew up watching Charmed and as a child I always loved how strong and badass Prue was. As I matured and grew up I realised my love for Prue went a lot deeper than that. I love Prue’s strength and resillience, her devotion and ambition, the way she took responsibility for her family and always prioritised the well-being of others above herself including strangers. She was never afraid to do what’s right or what she believed in no matter how hard it may be. She was confident, self-assured, loyal, intelligent, independent and courageous. I honestly just love everything about Prue’s character. I could talk about her all day, so I best cut it short. The main reason I love her is because I see in Prue Halliwell the kind of woman I would wish to be.

Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

I’m still very sensitive about Jon after the final season of Game of Thrones, just to pre-warn you haha. I love Jon because he was always an outsider and an outcast, even in his own home; someone that was unimportant and overlooked, but that through his skills and qualities was able to achieve incredible things. Just like Prue he always does what he felt was right no matter the circumstances or consequences of that (one of the consequences being him getting murdered). I love him because he is the one character on the entire show that didn’t give a shit about politics and titles because he could see the bigger picture. I love that despite knowing how impossibly difficult it would be and knowing that people would laugh and disbelieve him, he devoted himself to gaining allies and armies big enough to fight the army of the dead. Jon was always humble and grounded and never swayed by others. He knew his own mind and he knew what was right and he always acted on that. His heart was pure, he was courageous and loyal, and he fought for the honour and safety of others. 

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)

I love Sansa because she went on an incredible and inspiring journey. She began the series as a naive girl with dreams of living in a castle and marrying a prince and through the sad and traumatic experiences she endured, she developed into a new, stronger person. She was incredibly resillient and became the person she needed to be to survive in a cruel and unfair world. Despite the horrors she endured she never lost hope and she never gave up. She continued to fight and she took back her home by her own sheer will. Instead of submitting to the will of others she shrewdly and cleverly observed her enemies and captors, absorbed knowledge and skills from them and later wielded them for her own benefit. Her intelligence, grace, courage, strength and determintion led her to be crowned Queen of the North and I’ll forever be in awe of all that she achieved and the incredible journey she went on. Sansa Stark is an amazing woman. 

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings) 

What’s not to love about Aragorn, honestly? He’s a highly skilled soldier and fighter, intelligent, wise, steadfast, loyal and dedicated. He has an ability to lead and inspire whomever he’s with because of the charisma, skill and knowledge he has. He’s respectful, considerate and a true friend. The amount of courage and bravery he has is incredible and there’s no situation that you could put Aragorn in that he wouldn’t tackle head on with his shoulders back and his head held high. When confronted with the Ring he was never seduced or tempted by it because his restraint, inner strength and moral code was so strong. I honestly just love everything about Aragorn, I think he’s amazing. 

Angel (Angel the Series) 

Angel is my baby. I didn’t fully appreciate or understand him until I watched Angel, but now that I have I’ve fallen in love with him completely. He’s such a complex hero with so many layers to him. His story is one of a kind - a vampire cursed with a soul - and the way in which he selflessly dedicates himself to helping those in need is inspiring. There’s no end to the compassion and empathy Angel has for others or the lengths to which he will go to to help people. Even with those that don’t deserve his kindness, he’s able to show forgiveness and understanding. Yet he’s not perfect; he struggles (a lot) with his own conscience and past, and as a result he’s prone to depressive moods and feelings of hopelessness. But no matter how low he gets or how hopeless things seem he always finds the strength to carry on for the sake of those around him. He’s completely grounded and understands that he can’t change the world, but amazingly that doesn’t stop him from giving his all to helping those few people that he can and making a difference in their lives. And although at first he does it because he’s seeking his own redemption, it’s never really about that. He’s just so connected to humanity (which is ironic since he’s a vampire) that he can’t simply stand by and watch innocent people suffer and do nothing about it. He’s a hero in the truest sense of the word. A well-rounded, multi-faceted character who is flawed but always committed to being the best version of himself he can be and doing everything in his power to improve the lives of others. I also generally love his dorkiness and how funny he is. 

Jax Teller (Sons of Anarchy) 

I love the complexity of Jax. He’s probably the only character in this list so far that’s categorically a bad person. He’s a criminal, a gangster, a gun-runner, a murder, a brutal and aggressive man who will beat people within an inch of their life. But what I love about him is that despite that cold, ruthless, reckless and awful side to him, he’s also an incredibly sensitive, passionate and loving soul. Jax feels so deeply, more deeply than any other character I know, but the result of that is that he has all of these extreme sides to his personality. He feels something and he reacts. He does stupid, abhorrent, evil and unforgivable things, yet through all of that I see his soul throughout it all. A tormented soul which is all twisted up and shrivelled inside, desperately trying to break free. Jax is one of the most conflicted characters I’ve ever seen. On the one hand being a member of SAMCRO is who he is - it’s literally ingrained in his DNA - and on the other hand, it’s contradictory to the very foundation of who he is as a person. He’s empathetic, he cares about people and he knows right from wrong. At the start of the series he doesn’t kill and when faced with brutality he struggles to mentally and emotionally handle it. It doesn’t sit right with his conscience. And his love for his wife and his sons creates a constant inner-turmoil and war inside him. He feels the responsibility for his club weighing heavily on him, but at the same time knows how detrimental the club is to his family who he loves more than anything and wants to protect. No matter how hard he tries or what he does he knows he can’t strike a balance between the two and he can never find peace within himself. I love the very nature of Jax’s character in this sense, because it’s so damn complex. I also find it facsinating how deeply and dramatically his character changes throughout the seasons. He grows darker and darker until by the end of the series he’s practically a monster. And yet I still can’t help but love him because it doesn’t matter how far he does or how awful the things are that he does, I still see his humanity and see the grief he carries for the things he does. I guess a large part of the reason I love Jax is because he’s so different from me and so different from anyone I’ve ever known and I find that fascinating. 

Ben Mitchell (Eastenders)

Of course I had to include Ben on this list, how could I not? Ben is a character that snuck up on me. I’ve watched Eastenders on and off my whole life (it’s ingrained in me as a Brit haha) but I never really attached myself to Ben until Max Bowden took over the role. Max brings something to the character of Ben that enabled me to connect to him immediately. Ben is a tragic character. His back-story is so sad that it’s hard not to feel sympathy for him. His psyche is so twisted up (a lot like Jax) and he has a lot of complex issues that fascinate me. In many ways he’s an awful human being (once again, just like Jax he’s a murderer and a criminal), but he’s also very much human. He loves his father and craves his approval, he dotes on his daughter and longs to give her a better life than he had and be a better father to her than Phil was to him, he’s fiercely loyal to Jay who is his longest and oldest friend. Ben is a very loving and passionate character who feels deeply. In fact, he feels so deeply that he acts out because he doesn’t know how to handle those emotions. And the things he’s had to endure have also instilled him with an anger that he can’t control. He feels that he’s been stepped on his whole life and that he’s endlessly suffered (which let’s face it, he has) and he can’t help but take that out on the rest of the world. I love Ben because of the complexity of his character and because despite everything he’s done I truly believe that he’s a good person. He shows his capability for goodness in the way he is with his loved ones. All I want for him is to wake up and realise that he can’t continue down this path of destruction he’s on. He needs to start healing and move forward and make better decisions for the sake of his future and his daughters. 

There’s more characters I could’ve included on this list, but it’s already too long so I’ll leave it there haha. 

Thanks for asking! :)