#bib has soft spot for him

[tuxedo-lef]

having silly thoughts about fabinelli again specifically within the realm of the last fic you wrote with self conscious Fabio. I'm imaging Jorgi noticing that Fabio spends a lot of time looking at Gabi, in training, in the gym, that his eyes track him from the bench rather than the ball. Jorgi, in all his wisdom, thinks that it is because Fabio wants to be more like Gabi, as fast as him, as strong as him, etc. He pulls Fabi aside and tells him he's just as good, that he shouldn't compare himself to Gabi so much. Fabi awkwardly has to explain that he's not comparing himself to Gabi, he's just really into him - 💙🤍 kt anon

I love this! Jorgi is very observant but he never gets to the right conclusion hehe.

Here's the drabble <3

During an international break, when Ben told him his focus on spotting was much better - more trustworthy - Fábio learned that he had a staring issue.

"Your eyes always wander when they're supposed to be looking at my form. But today, you were good. Focused," Ben squeezed his shoulder in thanks.

Fábio nodded, a little dumbfounded. Truthfully, he had been focused on Ben's repetitions because there was nothing else to look at. Or perhaps no one else.

Fábio thought he would be the only one from the first team showing up at the training facility that day. Instead, Ben was already waiting in the locker room, lacing his shoes with a sad pop song playing in the background. Great.

With just the two of them present, it was easy to fall into a comfortable silence as they hopped from one machine to another. Without Martinelli present, Fábio had no reason to be distracted from his task.

------------------

For a change, the weather was sunny with no clouds. Fábio was squatting on a ball in line with his team assigned for today's practice, bright orange bibs slipped over their shirts. On his left, Kai was picking at the skin around his fingernails with his teeth. On his right, typical Jorginho was coaching Ethan on his positioning, listing him the players available for a pass.

Fábio was probably more engaged in the current play than Kai but certainly less so than Jorgi. His eyes weren’t scanning the entire field, following the quick movements of the ball from one side to another. Instead, they were tracking Martinelli who was running the wing on the left side.

Fábio had a perfect view. The soft fluffy hair on top of his head staying in place despite the Brazilian bursting into a sprint to run past Ben. The plump lips spitting on the grass after grabbing a sip of water. The visible leg muscles stiffening nicely, making Fábio wonder what it would feel like to take a bite into the tough flesh. Just the thought was mouthwatering.

Martinelli was smiling his adorable smile: red gums showing, dimple sinking in his right cheek, nose scrunching, and eyes disappearing into gentle lines. Fábio was captivated.

Maybe too much so because the stray ball that hit the side of his face gave him a total whiplash, making him lose his balance and tumble off the ball.

"Whoa Fábio! Are you okay?" Jorgi shouted.

In his fall, Fábio had let himself roll to land with his head hidden in his elbow. Hiding in shame rather than trying to cover the redness probably stinging the cheek and ear that had been hit.

"Fábio! I'm so sorry!" Martin's voice rang in his ear as two hands shook him gently.

Fábio couldn't hide like an ostrich forever, so he slowly got up and reassured Martin that it was okay.

"We know! But are you okay?" Jorgi approached and blocked the sun.

"Yes, of course," Fábio insisted and wanted to show just as much, ignoring Martin's hand to get up on his two feet.

However, that proved to be the wrong course of action because his head suddenly felt too heavy and his legs too light and Fábio tripped backward, falling stupidly into a familiar someone's chest.

"Oi Fábi, slow down. You definitely need to get checked," Martinelli whispered and Fábio hated that he had recognized his scent before he could even hear his best friend say a word.

"I'm fine!" Fábio tried again, swatting Martinelli's hands off him only for Jorginho's arm to snake around his shoulder.

"Yeah let go Gabi, I'll take Fábio to the medics. You go back to your play," Jorginho dismissed everyone that had gathered around and dragged Fábio along after receiving confirmation from Arteta that they could excuse themselves.

The doctor evaluated that Fábio was at risk of a minor concussion and ordered him on bed rest for the day and that they would evaluate him regularly from then on. See how it progresses.

Jorgi lingered behind. Practice would be over in fifteen minutes anyway so there was no point returning. Fábio had a feeling that the older player was trying to get something out of his system. Jorginho was pacing around the room, hand rubbing and scratching the back of his own neck.

"What is it now?" Fábio asked with an air of disinterest.

Jorginho looked at him surprised and then focused his brows as though he was prepping himself to lecture his protégé.

"You've been tracking Gabi on the pitch like a hawk! I haven't said anything because it didn't affect your play, but now it got you injured!"

"I'm not-"

Jorginho didn't let the Portuguese defend himself.

"Yes. Yes you are, Fábio. Unless you're playing on the pitch, your eyes are traced on Gabi. It's a real problem," Jorginho sighed, exasperated. "Look at me! You don't need to be as fast or as strong as him to get the recognition you deserve in the Premier League."

"That's not-" Fábio tried again.

"If you need a role model... Just use me. I can give you more tips and help you in the gym. But Gabi, although not the biggest nor the strongest in our squad, he's built differently from you-"

"I like him!" Fábio was the one doing the interrupting this time. "I think he's hot and I can't help it. My eyes just follow him before I can even realize what I'm doing."

Jorginho was speechless in front of him. Static and stiff like an electricity poll.

Fábio's irritation twisted itself into dreadful anxiety. The fear of rejection. Of being hated by someone he loved.

Fábio couldn't look him in the eyes as he spoke.

"Look. You don't have to- Just keep this to yourself. Please. I won't mention it agai-"

"Oh shut up, Fábio. I won't tell a word. You know, there's a few things you could do to make me hate you, but being in love isn't one of them," Jorginho said, arms cradling Fábio's head gently to his chest.

Fábio listened to Jorgi's lulling heartbeat, letting the rigidity that had settled into his muscles dissipate in the comforting embrace.

"You're the best," Fábio mumbled.

"Oh, do say that again," Jorgi laughed. "But your taste in men is criminal if you're down bad for Martinelli. He's so..."

"Hey! He's very handsome."

"Sure. Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

___________

End of drabble. There's definitely an alternate ending where Gabi walks in on their conversation either during Fábio's confession or when they're hugging. Also Gabi is definitely sulking over the fact that he didn't get to walk Fábio to the medics.

[thethera-rossa]

[hyungieyoongi]

Fussy

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff + Dad!Yoongi + married and parent au + a very fussy baby 

Word Count: 800+

If you’re looking for more Dad!Yoongi content feat. baby Nari, check out Home and Never Enough (lol how obvious is it that this domestic Yoongs is my comfort oopsies)

You stood in the entryway to the kitchen, watching as your husband tried to coerce your baby into eating the mashed sweet potato on her spoon with airplane noises and funny faces. Nari had been especially fussy lately, not going down for naps and keeping Yoongi and you up late into the night with her cries. You both were exhausted.

Yoongi had a white button down on, dark glasses perched on his nose as he sat in front of Nari’s highchair. You had popped over to the grocery store for a few things you were running low on, but he was wearing sweats when you left an hour ago. You couldn’t figure out what he was dressed up for.

“Nari, sweetie, please eat something. It’s your favorite,” Yoongi begged your daughter. In response, Nari let out an ear-splitting screech, flinging her hands and knocking the orange purée out of her dad’s hands. Sweet potato landed directly on Yoongi’s white shirt before sliding down onto to the floor.

Yoongi groaned, eyes closing in frustration at the situation.

“That stain probably won’t come out,” you said, chuckling. Yoongi looked up, realizing you had watched the entire interaction. You gave him a soft smile, sympathetic to his plight.

“Do you have groceries to unload? I’ll trade you the demon baby for that,” Yoongi said. You rolled your eyes, going over to smooth your daughter’s hair as she happily babbled now that nobody was trying to make her eat her dinner.

“Don’t call our daughter a ‘demon baby,’ Yoongs,” you laughed.

“You know how much I love her, but the past week has really made me question how much she loves us back,” Yoongi said, looking at Nari skeptically.

“Go get the groceries, I’ll sacrifice my shirt this time,” you said sitting in Yoongi’s previous spot. He kissed the top of your head, mumbling that he’d be right back.

“Alright, daddy is not very pleased with you, so let’s eat something to make him happy, okay?” you negotiated with Nari, her eyes big and wide as she looked at you, bread cheeks she inherited from her father puffed out as she pouted. “Don’t look at me like that, just eat some dinner for mommy, okay?”

You held out the spoon to Nari, holding your breath, worried that she would throw another tantrum. To your surprise, she complied, taking the food. Maybe she could sense how desperate her parents had become.

You continued to feed her, Yoongi rustling through bags of groceries on the counter as he put your purchases away.

“How’s it going over there? It’s way too quiet,” Yoongi said, glancing over his shoulder to Nari’s highchair. “Aish, come on! I was trying to get her to eat for 20 minutes, and you succeed in 30 seconds?”

“Sorry, love,” you said, feeding a compliant Nari another spoonful. You heard Yoongi grumbling to himself in frustration as he opened the fridge to put away the last of the groceries. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

You took the orange-splattered bib off of your daughter and lifted her out of her highchair when she was finally done. Yoongi came to stand next to you, using a damp cloth to wipe the remnants of the baby food on Nari’s face.

“Have you forgiven our demon baby?” you teased, watching as Yoongi carefully made sure all of the orange was removed from Nari’s cheeks.

“I guess,” Yoongi pouted. “I’ll really forgive her if she actually goes to sleep tonight. Otherwise, Uncle Hobi is going to be very angry with me,” Yoongi said, tapping Nari on the nose, making her giggle.

“Hobi?” you asked, looking at Yoongi for an explanation.

“I asked him to babysit Nari tonight, I thought it would be nice for us to go out given how stressful this week has been, just the two of us,” Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly.

“Is that why you’re all dressed up?”

“I was trying to surprise you, but this one ruined my shirt,” Yoongi mocked glared at Nari. She reached out with grabby hands to your husband, and he took her from your arms. You looked at the two of them with soft eyes, your heart doing that annoying flip-flopping thing it always did when you remembered how in love you were with your husband and your life together.

“I have a suggestion for you,” you started, Yoongi humming at you to get you to continue as he bounced your daughter up and down. “Why don’t you change back into your sweats, we can order takeout from your favorite place, and we can sit and eat it at the park under the stars?”

“That sounds perfect,” Yoongi agreed, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips, Nari giggling in delight.

“Go change, I’ll hang out with her until Hobi gets here,” you said, sitting on the couch as Yoongi placed Nari on her play mat in the living room, unbuttoning his orange-stained dress shirt.

“You know what I am most excited for?” Yoongi said as he walked toward your shared bedroom.

“What?”

“Hobi having to deal with demon baby,” Yoongi said, gummy smile appearing at the thought, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Yoongi! Stop calling her that!”

---

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[you-call-it-a-dude]

I just got my wisdom teeth out today. So please enjoy this old Bechloe fic from my fanfiction.net account about Beca getting her wisdom teeth out! Not all my stories from ff.net have been moved to ao3 so if you’re interested feel free to check them out here

Words of Wisdom

"Beca, I know you're nervous, but please stop bouncing your leg. You're shaking the whole car." Chloe said, reaching across the center console to put her hand on Beca's knee to steady it.

"I'm not nervous." Beca replied, gripping Chloe's hand tightly. "I just- aren't I too old to be getting my wisdom teeth out? That shit happens when you're like twenty."

———

"That's true. You are. But because you don't know how to stop eating Reese Cups, you keep getting cavities in your wisdom teeth and I'm sure our insurance is very annoyed with how many fillings you've gotten the past two years. So now it's going to be all taken care of!" She gave Beca's knee a reassuring squeeze before returning it to the wheel to turn into the parking lot of the dentist's office. She pulled into a spot relatively close to the entrance and killed the ignition. She grabbed a book from the backseat and tucked it into her purse before getting out of the car. She was about to lock the door before she realized Beca hadn't got out of the car. She made her way to the passenger side and saw her wife in the seat with her arms crossed. She threw open the door and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm going to count to three, Rebecca. We already have two children, I don't need you acting like a third one."

"I'm not Frankie. That doesn't work on me." The redhead cocked her eyebrow at Beca, accepting the challenge.

"One…" Beca kept her gaze forward, refusing to look at her wife. "Two…" She snuck a glance at Chloe and saw her sporting her 'mom face'. She was getting a little bit nervous. "Two and a half…Don't make me get to three." The brunette refused to back down. Chloe just sighed loudly. "Three." Before Beca knew it, two strong hands were grabbing her by her biceps and literally dragging her out of the car. Chloe slammed the door and locked it before Beca could try and get back in. "Seriously, Beca. I don't have time for this. Please just cooperate." Beca let out and exaggerated sigh and grumbled.

"Fine." Chloe beamed a big smile and linked her arm with Beca's, leading her into the dentist's office.

Once they checked in, Chloe filled out Beca's forms because the brunette had absolutely no idea how to answer those questions. Just as Chloe handed the clipboard to the woman at the front desk, the dental hygienist called out Beca's name. Chloe kissed her wife's cheek. Beca stood up and looked down at Chloe.

"You're not coming?" She asked with a pout on her face.

"She can be with you until you fall asleep." The hygienist interjected politely. Chloe smiled and stood up. She put her hand on Beca's lower back and gave her a little push in the direction on the room.

The hygienist led them to the room Beca's surgery would be performed in. She instructed both girls to take a seat and Chloe shot Beca a stern look when the brunette attempted to sit in the chair that was meant for her. She pointed to the dental chair and Beca sighed in defeat as she slid in the chair. Chloe reached over and grabbed Beca's hand, squeezing it for reassurance. The oral surgeon walked in a few minutes later. He was a gentleman who looked to be in his early fifties. He shook both of their hands, introduced himself as Doctor Camden, and pulled up his stool.

"Alright, Mrs. Mitchell. I'm going to be taking out all four of your wisdom teeth. Luckily they aren't impacted, so it should be a relatively easy procedure. We can even keep you awake for it if you'd like."

"I wouldn't." Beca said curtly, making Doctor Camden laugh.

"Okay then. I'll give you local anesthesia and twilight sedation as opposed to general anesthesia. Does that sound okay?" Beca was too nervous to ask questions so she just nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, what does all that mean?" Chloe asked respectfully.

"Local anesthesia will numb up her gums. I'll apply a numbing gel to the area first, and then I'll inject it into her gums, just like when getting a cavity filled. Twilight sedation is a very light form of general anesthesia. We will give it to her through an IV and she'll fall asleep. She won't feel any pain and she wont remember the procedure. She'll still be out of it when she wakes up, but we won't have to monitor her breathing like we would if she was under general because she wouldn't be completely out. I hope that answers your question."

"It does. Thank you."

"How about we get started then." Doctor Camden washed his hands thoroughly before putting on a pair of latex gloves. "I do apologize Mrs. Mitchell, but I'm going to have to ask you to step out now."

"Of course." Chloe stood up and pressed a kiss to Beca's head. "I'll be waiting for you. You're okay, baby. I love you." Beca frowned and watched her wife leave the room.

"Shall we begin?" Beca nodded and sat back, letting the hygienist clip that crappy paper bib around her neck. The surgeon began to lower the chair and Beca gripped the arms tightly.

Beca's had her fair share of cavities. Too many cavities are why she's in this predicament. But, Beca can't handle pain. You would think someone in and out of the emergency room as much has her would be used to it by now, but that's not the case. She secretly likes to blame it on her girls, mostly Chloe. Saying they've made her soft and Chloe babying her when she's hurt makes her mind think it's okay to be a wimp blah blah. In reality, the brunette has always been this way, but now she has someone to blame it on.

Once her mouth was numbed up and it was kicking in, Doctor Camden felt around the top of Beca's left hand, looking for a vein. He kept his thumb over the vein he would insert the needle in and cleaned the area. Beca gritted her teeth and cringed as the needle went in and sighed in relief when she actually felt no pain. He taped the needle in to keep it in place.

"Okay, Beca. IV is in and you should start feeling sleepy, okay?" Beca nodded. She could feel her eyes getting heavy.

"My hand hurts." She mumbled.

"Hold on, I'll fix that." He readjusted the tape and upped to dosage a bit, knowing it would be difficult for her to fall asleep if her hand was bothering her. "Better?"

"Ye-" Beca mumbled out the rest of her sentence. Doctor Camden had no idea what was said, but he caught the beginning of the word 'yes' before Beca knocked out.

/

Chloe sat anxiously in the waiting room. She brought a book from home to read, but she kept getting distracted by texts from Aubrey. The blonde was sending Chloe updates on Frankie and Callie, but was also expressing the excitement of seeing Beca coming of her anesthesia. Aubrey and Beca have buried the hatchet years ago, but they have a very playful and teasing relationship that Stacie and Chloe find amusing. Aubrey just sent Chloe a picture of Frankie and Callie on the couch, watching The Little Mermaid. The eight month old was sitting comfortably between Frankie's legs and Frankie had her arms wrapped securely around Callie. She pouted at the cuteness and quickly made that photo her new lock screen. Just as she put her phone back into her purse and was ready to pull her book out (thinking she still had a ways to go because it has only been forty-five minutes), Doctor Camden came out of the room.

"Mrs. Mitchell?" Chloe looked up and smiled at him.

"Finished already?" She grabbed her and Beca's coat and stood up.

"Oh yes. All four of her wisdom teeth grew in perfectly straight so it was fairly easy." He spoke and he led Chloe to the room Beca was in. "She's just waking up now so she might be a little groggy and goofy. I want her to stay here for thirty minutes, just till the sedation wears off a little. Then you can be on your way." He opened the door for Chloe and she thanked him as she entered the room. He shut the door to the room once Chloe entered.

She could see the back of Beca's head. The brunette was rocking her head side to side and making a noise similar to a whine. She sat on the chair next to the dental chair and draped the coats on her lap. When she finally got to look at Beca's face, she couldn't help but smirk a bit. Beca had her eyes closed, still rocking her head side to side as if she were dancing to her own whines. Her cheeks were huge and she could see the gauze stuffed in her cheeks. Chloe took this opportunity to take a quick photo before she placed her hands on Beca's knee to get her attention. The brunette cracked one eye open and looked at Chloe.

"Hi, chipmunk." Chloe said as she bit back a laugh. Beca opened her other eye and smiled at Chloe for a moment before her face dropped in confusion. She reached up and touched her cheek, furrowing her eyebrows. She trailed her fingers across her cheek to her mouth, touching the gauze. "Leave it in there, baby." She looked up at Chloe as she gripped the gauze between her thumb and index finger, ready to pull it out. "Beca, I'm serious." She grabbed Beca's hand and pulled it from her mouth.

"I need to take it out!" She attempted to shout, but it came out tired and muffled. She pouted and lifted her hand up to touch Chloe's face. "You're so pretty, babe. Are you a parking ticket? Because fine." Chloe threw her head back and laughed at Beca's failed attempt at a pick up line. "I wanna get up." The brunette started to turn in her spot, ready to roll off the chair. Chloe put her hands out and grabbed Beca's hips to keep her there.

"You need to stay in the chair, Beca." Beca turned back onto her back and smirked.

"I'll stay if you give me a kiss."

"I can't kiss you right now. Please just stay in your seat for me? I'll love you forever."

"Oh god! That's even better! I'll stay in my seat." Chloe grabbed Beca's hand and kissed lightly over her Band-Aid.

"Good girl. Thank you." Beca smiled and looked lovingly at Chloe.

"I love you, red panda."

"I love you, too." She placed a soft kiss to Beca's temple.

"Chlo, I really love you." She looked up at Chloe with watery eyes.

"Beca, baby. Please don't cry. I love you too."

"Yeah, but I just love you, Chloe." Chloe pushed hair from Beca's face.

"I know, sweetheart. I know." Just as Beca was about to respond, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" Doctor Camden entered the room holding some paperwork and a packet with an oral syringe.

He stood at the desk with the computer and began highlighting things on the paper. Beca began humming and singing loudly to herself so Chloe stood up and made her way to the surgeon so she could hear him explaining things. He started to explain to Chloe how to clean her gums, things Beca can and can't eat for the time being and everything that Chloe needs to know to take care of Beca.

"Babe!" Chloe turned her head when Beca called out for her. She saw the brunette holding one of her bloody gauze in her left hand.

"Beca, I told you not to touch those." By now Doctor Camden saw Beca had taken the gauze from her mouth excused himself to get more.

"Catch!"

"Beca don't you dare!" Beca attempted to throw the gauze, but instead of letting it go mid-air, she let her arm go through the motions of throwing and let the gauze go when her hand was inches from the floor. "Rebecca, quit it." Chloe said through gritted teeth. Doctor Camden returned moments later and quickly inserted the gauze into her mouth.

/

Chloe finally got Beca home. After the whole gauze fiasco and Beca dubbing herself as 'speed racer' when one of the hygienists wheeled her out to the car. Getting Beca out of the car was a lot easier than getting her in the car. Beca was eager to get inside and take a nap. She spent the whole car ride telling Chloe how she was going to 'nap so hard she was going to wake up needing another nap'. When she led Beca into the house through the garage, Frankie immediately ran up to Beca and hugged her legs. Beca looked down at her daughter and smiled.

"Hi mama! Why your face like that?" Beca looked up and Chloe with a worried expression on her face.

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Ah, I thought I heard you, Beca." Aubrey came into the room with Callie in her arms. Beca gave a lazy solute.

"General." She leaned down a bit to get eye level with Callie. "Hi, chunky monkey." Callie furrowed her eyebrows and gave Beca a dirty look. "Hmm. Tough crowd."

"She's probably wondering why your cheeks look like hers." Aubrey said, adjusting Callie when she started getting fussy.

"Where's Stace?" Beca asked, looking around the kitchen.

"In here Becs!" She heard Stacie shout from the family room. Beca pointed in that direction and unsteadily walked into the family room. Stacie was sitting on the couch with her legs propped up on one of Frankie's toys. The taller brunette was now seven months pregnant and she just looked over it. Beca plopped down next to her best friend and smiled wide, making bloody drool slip from the corners of her mouth.

"Ew, Mama B. That's gross." Stacie grabbed a baby wipe from the package resting next to her on the arm of the couch and she wiped the drool away gently.

"You're so nice to me, Stacie. I love you." Beca said tearfully. She laid her head on Stacie's shoulder and sniffled. Stacie patted Beca's head softly.

"Okay, Becs. I love you, too."

"Can I take a nap on your boobs?" Stacie shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly, scrolling through her phone. Beca shifted so she was lying comfortably on Stacie's chest. Stacie continued to absentmindedly play with her best friend's hair while she looked through Facebook. When she noticed the smaller brunette starting to drool she carefully placed a baby wipe on her shirt, under Beca's mouth.

/

Beca had been sleeping on Stacie's chest for around thirty minutes. She was snoring loudly in Stacie's ear, but she didn't really care. She had been really hormonal lately and found comfort in cuddling with her best friend. Frankie came running into the family room around this time, Callie crawling behind her as fast as her little hands and legs can take her. Frankie stood between Stacie's legs and patted on her knees.

"Aunt Cee, mommy says lunch time!" The toddler said excitedly. Stacie pushed some stray hairs out of her niece's face.

"Is it? Did she tell you what we are having? Cause your little cousin is making me really picky." Frankie nodded and put her hand on Stacie's baby bump.

"Uh huh! Mommy said," Frankie paused and scrunched up her face, trying to remember what her mom told her. ", she said floppy hoes." Stacie laughed loudly, jostling Beca and making her jolt awake. She wiped the drool off her face and stared tiredly at Stacie.

"What's so funny that you laughed loud enough to shake the earth?" Beca asked, slightly annoyed.

"Frankie, tell mama what mommy made for lunch."

"Floppy hoes!" She said confidently, throwing her hands in the air. Callie finally made it to the couch and giggled at her silly older sister.

"I don't think that's right, kiddo." Beca said groggily, wincing at the pain she felt in her mouth.

"Thank you for relaying that message, Franny. Your mama and I will be there in a minute."

"Okay!" She jumped and ran out of the room and back to the kitchen, leaving Callie on the floor with a pout on her face. The baby sighed dramatically and began crawling towards the kitchen, smacking her hands on the hardwood loudly as she did so. Beca guessed that was her version of stomping away angrily.

"Let's go, chipmunk. I have floppy hoes to eat." Stacie said, laughing lightly as she shoved Beca off the couch. "I need your help getting off the couch though." Beca stood up and held both her hands out for Stacie. The taller brunette gripped them and Beca yanked her up, expertly avoiding getting impaled by her pregnant belly.

Beca groggily followed Stacie into the kitchen. Aubrey stood up to make sure Stacie got into her seat okay. Chloe stood up and grabbed Beca's hand, leading her to the kitchen sink. She pulled out the packet the papers the doctor gave her as well as the oral syringe. She read the packet to herself and grabbed the box of salt from the cabinet and filled a bowl with warm water. She added the salt to the water and filled the syringe with the salt water. She carefully pulled out the gauze and flushed her gums. Once her mouth was clean, she gave her some ibuprofen. Beca took her seat next to Frankie and the redhead set a bowl of applesauce in front of her. Beca groaned in displeasure and looked up at Callie who seemed jealous that Beca got applesauce and she was eating pureed carrots and buttered noodles.

"I'll trade you, Callie Cat. Actually, you can keep the carrots." Callie smiled at Beca and the spoonful of carrots that Chloe just fed her came spilling out of her cheeks.

All the girls sat around the table and enjoyed their lunch of sloppy Joes. Chloe talked about how Beca acted after her surgery and the brunette rolled her eyes and refused to believe it. Stacie told Aubrey and Chloe about Frankie calling their lunch 'floppy hoes' and when the toddler saw it made everyone laugh, she began to repeat it. That earned her a scolding from Chloe and a 'mom look' from Beca because was too damn tired and in too much pain to discipline.

After lunch was finished, Aubrey decided it was time for them to head home. She knew both Stacie and Beca were exhausted at this point and wanted them both to get some rest. Once they all said their goodbyes, Chloe flushed out Beca's gums again and replaced the gauze in her mouth.

"Becs, would you be opposed to napping down here? I want to be able to take care of you, but the girls won't be happy being confined upstairs. I'll try really hard to keep them quiet."

"Babe, I'm so tired I could sleep comfortably on a rock." Beca tiredly shuffled over to the couch, ready to lie down.

"Wait!" Chloe put her hand on Beca's shoulders to stop her. "Sleep on the recliner. Just for now. I was reading that it's good to keep your head upright." Beca just nodded and made her way to the recliner, pressing the button to raise the footrest, but keeping the top half of her body upright. Chloe grabbed a blanket from the linen cabinet and covered Beca up. Beca mumbled a half-assed 'goodnight' and fell asleep.

Chloe was able to keep the girls quiet for about forty-five minutes. They could only stay interested in Frozen for so long, especially when they had a sleeping and hurting mom to bug. Frankie, being the instigator she is, decided that she needed to be sitting on Beca's lap in order to enjoy the movie quietly. Frankie climbed on to the recliner and sat herself on Beca's lap. Because Callie was basically Frankie's shadow at this point, she crawled her way over to Beca's chair, started smacking on the arm of it and began whining. Chloe sprung up from her spot on the couch and picked up Callie. The tiny redhead immediately began squirming and started to cry.

"Shh, Callie. Mama is sleeping. Come sit on my lap." Chloe sat back down and nestled Callie on her lap. The baby didn't like it at all and she reached her arms out towards her sleeping mama. "Alright. Jesus." Chloe stood up and tiptoed to Beca. She carefully pulled back the blanket a bit and placed Callie under it, tucking part of it between the sides of the chair to create a pouch. Beca cracked an eye open at the movement and instinctively wrapped her arms around both her girls.

"I've got them." Beca mumbled sleepily. She absentmindedly began to rub both Frankie and Callie's arms softly with her fingertips, making both of them drowsy. "If they're falling asleep, turn that fuckin movie off." She added after fifteen minutes. Chloe grabbed the Xbox remote and exited out of the DVD playing. She opened Netflix and browsed through it, settling on watching Parks and Rec. She turned down the volume and snuggled back into the couch. "Will you turn the light off, too?" Beca said not even a minute after Chloe got comfortable. The redhead sighed and stood up, making her way over to the light switch and shutting it off.

"Anything else before I sit back down, babe?"

"I need a kiss." Beca said with her eyes still closed, but Chloe could see her smiling around her gauze. She bit her lip and made her way over to Beca, pressing light kisses all over her face, making her sigh contently. She also placed a kiss on both Callie and Frankie's forehead. Both girls were now sleeping comfortably on Beca's lap. The redhead made her way back to the couch and sprawled out, enjoying not having to share the space. "Hey, Chlo?" Beca asked a few minutes later, startling Chloe.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you so much, dude." She said, with a slight whine in her voice. Chloe chuckled and looked over at Beca, who somehow managed to fully knock out in the span of about two seconds.

"I love you, too, Bec."

[mochiable]

— wine drops. | chpt. 1

summary: you and Jimin meet each other for the first time.

pairing: viscount!jimin x workingclass!reader

wc: 1.7k

wd.masterlist

> next

The elegance of the baroque was present in the initiation dance. Some dances you had been told about since you were a child. They told you they were sensational, but that you would never get to see them with your own eyes.

Yet there you were, in the dress that your maid, Agnès, had embroidered especially for you. A dress with a square-necked bodice, allowing the precious gold chain hanging from your neck, which carried a ruby in the center, to stand out noticeably. It also consisted of a triangular, v-shaped bib that slightly covered your chest and stomach, adhering to the corset. The jacket was as long as a housecoat, which opened at the front as the dress came to an end, showing a skirt of the same fabric as this one. A skirt that fell freely from your waist, which was adorned with ruffles and ribbons, exaggerating the sophisticated image of the dress. It was all covered with small flowers and abstract navy blue rhinestones that contrasted with the pale beige at the base of the dress.

Something too lush and ostentatious for your taste, but what could you do. The baroque had taken over people’s minds more than a hundred years ago, turning them into pawns of a demanding and selfish lifestyle that rewarded the rich and condemned the poor.

Trust me, you knew it well. You were born into a humble family, with parents who taught you to survive rather than to spend. They always told you to use that intelligent mind that God had given you, so that no one would take advantage of you, obviously referring to them. The aristocracy.

A real poison that had settled in the rich areas of Lyon, where the workers used to live in small wooden shacks with nails. But those nobles threw them out and caused real massacres, and then enslaved other labourers on their land.

The king, together with his secret advisors, believed that, in order to maximize the economy and the most important sources of energy, they had to get rid of a large part of the population. But they didn’t take the nobles, they decided that those who stood in their way were the harmless laborers, who didn’t even have a few crumbs of bread.

That's how you were separated from your parents. You were only eight, but that didn't stop them. They pushed and shoved and spat on them, while they held you by the arms, and then threw them into filthy floats. Finally disappearing from your sight.

You were never going to forget the fear and pain that was reflected in your parents' eyes. All that suffering, that emptiness they left you haunted you even in your dreams, preventing you from sleeping peacefully at night.

That's why you decided to rise in the aristocratic ranks so that you could find those scoundrels who preferred to leave thousands of children orphaned rather than oppose the orders of the king and his presumptuous advisors.

Yes, you were aware that if they did, they would die. But when you found them they would have the same end as if they had avoided all the chaos the aristocracy caused. You were going to avenge the death of your parents and all the children who died because they had no one to shelter them.

That's why you were here today at the inaugural ball of the young women. The debutante ball, a somewhat elitist way of introducing girls to society on their coming of age.

You found yourself talking relatively boringly to the Baron of Honfleur, who had come all the way from the north of France to meet the Gangoiti's daughter. For a long time, he had been telling you about l'église Sainte-Catherine, which he was so passionate about.

“It's a real wonder, Mademoiselle Leduc. The structure resembles a large ship placed upside down, its inconceivable appearance is thanks to the local shipbuilders.”

“It must be undeniably splendid, Baronnie de Honfleur,” you laughed a little at his animated tone of voice.

“Au fait. Who are your parents, fillette? I don't know any Leduc here in Lyon. Are you related to Viscount Leduc there in Bourges?”

You had to admit that the air was stuck in your throat, preventing oxygen from reaching your lungs for a few seconds. You had to try to conceal and articulate one of your much practiced lies so that the baronnie would not discover you.

“Oh no, pas du tout,” you replied, trying to give him your best smile. “Mon parents are on a trip, they went to Austria a few weeks ago. It would be impossible for you to have crossed paths with them, maybe that's why you don't know them.”

“A verre de vin, Mademoiselle?” a tray where four glasses rested on the silver surface appeared in front of your eyes, being held by a bartender who watched you with a beautiful smile drawn on his face.

“Merci beaucoup,” you smiled back at him and took the glass of red wine in my left hand.

“I must go now, Demoiselle,” the Baron said, holding your hand and placing a soft kiss. “It has been a pleasure talking to you”

“Likewise.”

It was at that moment that one of the majordomes called you to the dance floor, where dozens of young people ran to dance with their partners. You slightly furrowed your brow, shaking your head, all they cared about was the dancing and the parties, something that really frustrated you when you thought that there were millions of families without a roof over their heads.

Music, laughter, and dresses flying by. That was all you could see and hear in that huge hall. As the people around it chatted and drank from their wine glasses.

You decided to stop paying attention to the new dance, the passepied. You peeled off the wall and set off to find the person you were looking for, the Countess of Poitiers.

You were walking around absently while you asked the other guests if they had seen the woman you were trying to locate with eagerness. When you turned around after consulting an Ècuyer, you tripped over someone, causing some of the wine that was left in your glass to fall on top of the stranger's clothes and slip out of your hands.

“Oh, mon Dieu!” you exclaimed, reaching for your handkerchief and rubbing it over his shirt. “Forgive me, Monsieur.”

“Don't worry,” he said, taking your hands off his figure. “But I would appreciate it if you would call me Viscount, Mademoiselle. Of course, as I am the son of the Duke and Duchess of Lyon.”

“Of course, Monsieur,” you mumbled a little ashamed. “Viscount!”, you corrected yourself, feeling your cheeks turn red quickly.

“Now, if you don't mind, you may accompany me to the cooking room,” he suggested, trying to get rid of the red stains that had smeared his suit.

“Do you mean la cuisine?”, you asked, wrinkling your nose slightly.

The Viscount looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as he inspected every feature of your body, as well as your virtues and defects. You felt his brown, intense gaze pass through every pore of yours, perceiving how his eyebrows rose and he licked those pink lips he possessed as he examined you.

“Allez,” he muttered, holding your hand.

“What are you doing?”, you hesitated, nailing your feet to the ground to prevent him from dragging you further.

“I said we would go to the kitchen”, he answered.

“You used a conditional”, you said, letting go of his hand. “Forgive my boldness, Viscount, but that didn't sound like an order to me.”

He laughed, looking at you again with those brown eyes, making you tremble, inevitably. “You are right,” he agreed as he brushed his rings against his lips. “Come with me to the kitchen, it’s an order.”

Leaving you speechless and with a dry mouth, he again held your hand, leading you into the kitchen, passing among all the guests and elbowing them, provoking withering glances from them. He made you move quickly as he squeezed your hands tightly. You cursed yourself mentally for not being careful and bumping into him. Right now you would be talking to the Countess de Poiters and not being dragged into a kitchen for no reason by a man you knew nothing about.

“Well,” he muttered as he reached the kitchen and handed you back your stained handkerchief. “Dip it in that bucket”

Without saying anything, to avoid further discussion, you went over to the bucket and wet the tip of the handkerchief as you listened to the sound of clothes being removed. When you’d finished, you turned cautiously with your eyes slightly closed, waiting for the undressed body of a man.

“What are you doing?”, at that moment you opened your eyes wide, finding yourself with a funny but confused smile. Your gaze shifted from his face to his body, and you frowned as you saw him in clothes, still with his shirt on, but without his blazer. Why wasn't he naked? Your cheeks quickly warmed as you realized what you had been thinking. You wanted to laugh at myself, but I held back.

“I...”, you hesitated and looked away. “I've finished wetting my handkerchief.”

“I thought so,” he said, leaning his lower back against the counter which was full of dishes and moldy food. “Approche, approche.”, he insisted gesturing with his right hand.

You decided to obey to him and approached him, clearing your throat almost inaudibly, bringing the handkerchief close to his shirt.

“Désolé, for having soiled your suit.”

“I apologize to you too,” he whispered a few inches from your face.

He was quite tall. He was about four inches taller than you, maybe. But as he had his head a little lowered so that he could watch you delicately clean his spots. Little locks of hair fell down his forehead, tickling your temples.

“I was looking for someone.”

“Moi aussi,” you smiled, although it looked more like a grimace.

“Who are you?”, he asked in a soft voice.

“Je m'appelle y/n,” you replied, finishing rubbing the stains, which were now almost invisible. “I am the daughter of the Leduc. Perhaps you don't know them, they are on a trip,” you explained, leaving the handkerchief on the counter. “How about you?”

“My name is Jimin, Park Jimin.”

copyright © 2021 @/mochiable. all rights reserved.

please, give some feedback, your opinion is important to me!

a/n: english is not my first language, so if you see any grammatical or spelling mistakes don't hesitate to tell me. any constructive criticism will be always welcome.

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Dincobb Week Day 7 - Alternate First Meeting (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have one piece and it's SFW.

Alternate First Meeting - in which the Jawas weren't there but a Mandalorian was

There’s a small, struggling human shape toiling across the desert below the Razor Crest. Din notices it from a distance. Someone alone and on foot. No speeder, no bantha. Leaving an uncertain, wobbly track in the sand. Doomed, out there.

It’s not his problem. And he’s busy. There’s a big bounty to track down, someone Bib Fortuna wants contained in order to consolidate his new power. He hasn’t got a contract from this high up the Tatooine power structure before — it seems the regular guy bit the dust along with Jabba, opening up an opportunity. Din doesn’t know him, but he’s heard he was a Mandalorian, so the galaxy is a little worse off without him — but there’s nothing he can do about that, he just has to stay focused on his own work, take care of his own people.

It’s not his problem.

Damn it. It’s one thing when people have done something to place themselves beyond his sympathy, when they’ve threatened him or what he protects, but he can’t just ignore whoever is stupid enough to try to cross the desert alone and on foot. Maybe he doesn’t have to do anything now. The little figure just fell over and lay still.

Still, he lands close by and goes over to check.

It’s a man, one of the local settlers from the look of him, grey-haired and lanky. He’s not remotely dressed for this — not even a hat to keep off the sun, let alone a robe or a poncho, just a shirt and pants. He didn’t intend to cross a desert in that outfit. He doesn’t have a canteen. He was carrying a camtono — no idea what’s in there but presumably something of value, just not of any practical use for his survival. His breathing is shallow, but he is still breathing. Din picks him up, with some difficulty since he’s a dead weight, slings him over his shoulder, scoops up the camtono and carries him up the ramp into the hold of his ship, where there’s shade.

He places the man on the floor, sitting up against the wall with his head lolling, and examines him. He’s badly dehydrated; when Din pinches the skin on the back of his hand it takes several seconds for it to smooth out again. His lips are chapped and cracked and he’s covered in dust and dirt. He needs water, but if Din just pours it down his throat he’ll choke, so he goes and gets his own canteen, fills it from the galley tap, brings it back and shakes the man’s shoulder a little, crouching beside him.

“Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me. Can you hear me?”

The man stirs a little, his head rolling from side to side before he manages to lift it up. He looks at Din blearily, with suspicion and some alarm, and makes a faint croaking sound, his mouth clearly too dry to speak audibly.

“You’re safe. Drink some water.” He offers the canteen and the exhausted man moves like lightning to grab it. He puts it to his lips and drinks frantically, water trickling from the sides of his mouth into his beard and down his neck as his throat bobs, looking up at Din with disconcertingly sharp eyes. He looks ready to do murder when Din takes the canteen from his hand, but doesn’t have the strength to stop him. “Take a breather,” says Din. “You drink too fast and you’ll throw it back up.”

The man pants and sniffs, and wipes his mouth with the back of his arm before clearing his throat and saying hoarsely, “Who’re you?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” says Din.

“They send you to get me?” the man asks.

“No. I was flying by and saw you pass out. I don’t know who you are.”

“Name’s Cobb Vanth,” says the man, then, politely, “May I have some more water?”

Din hands it back to him and he drinks again, his eyes closing this time as if in bliss. He lowers the canteen after several more deep swigs with a soft “paah” and catches his breath. He peers at Din again. “Are you a… you’re a Mandalorian, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve never met a real Mandalorian.” He chuckles. “Heard stories. I know you’re good at killing.”

Din lets that pass. He’d like to think there’s more to him than that but he won’t deny he’s efficient.

“And you’re a bounty hunter, you say?”

Din nods.

“So you’re for hire?”

“You’ve been out in the sun too long,” says Din. “You can get some rest now. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“No, I’m asking…” Cobb sits up straighter, pulling himself together. “I know some people that need killing. And I can’t do it all by myself.”

“I’m not a hitman,” says Din.

“You don’t understand,” says Cobb. “The Mining Collective.” He’s clearly still exhausted, but pushing himself hard. “They moved in on my town. The night we got news of the Death Star blowing up. We didn’t even have time to celebrate.”

Din’s heard about that in vague terms over the past few days; it doesn’t make a great deal of difference to his day-to-day, though he’s glad to hear of the Empire going down. Maybe sometime soon it won’t be so dangerous to be a Mandalorian. He won’t hold his breath, though. Can’t be disappointed if you don’t get your hopes up. The Mining Collective is bad news too. He nods.

“I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders. Grabbed a camtono,” Cobb says, looking around vaguely and then nodding when he spots it by his feet. “I wandered for days. No food, no water. And then… I was saved.” He gives Din a sly smile and points at him. “I guess every once in a while, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail.”

“Guess so,” Din says, and begins to stand up. Cobb grabs a handful of his cape and holds on. He’s still weak, but he is quick. “Listen to me,” he says. “I’ve got treasure. That camtono. It’s full of silicax crystals. It’s yours if you help me. Help me take back Mos Pelgo.”

Din has to think about that. A full camtono of silicax is nothing to turn up his nose at. Depending on what Mos Pelgo is like, this could be a side job that doesn’t take too much time away from finding Fortuna’s bounty. Depending on the quality of the silicax he could be almost doubling his payday, and he has a lot of mouths to feed. He sits down. “Tell me about Mos Pelgo.”

It’s manageable. Mos Pelgo is just a flyspeck on the map. The Mining Collective hasn’t committed a whole lot of resources to it because they don’t have to, not to control a small population of frightened and demoralised people armed only with mining equipment. He has an armed ship and it amounts to a few minutes’ intensive work culminating in a fireball outside of town. He circles to make sure there are no survivors leaving the wreckage and returns to land closer to the settlement.

Cobb Vanth is grateful, relieved. It’s a good feeling when he can do that for someone he actually likes. Pretty rare too. Cobb is brave and resourceful and not too proud to ask for help. He likes that. He asks Din to have a drink with him before they settle up and while he declines the drink Din is happy to sit with him while he has one. It’s just the two of them in the shady cantina at the end of the day. Cobb keeps looking him up and down appraisingly, and it’s mildly disconcerting but not unpleasant.

“Would you consider staying?” Cobb asks. “As our defender. We can make it worth your while.”

Din shakes his head. “I have my own people to get back to.”

Cobb sucks his teeth, thinking. “Well, would you consider selling me your armour so I can do it myself? Take it out of the camtono too.”

Din’s back straightens from the more relaxed posture he was sitting in. “No,” he says.

“You can always get more, can’t you?” Cobb protests.

He clearly doesn’t understand what a repugnant suggestion it is, and Din doesn’t have the time or the inclination to walk him through it. “To get my armour you would have to pry it off my dead body,” he says. “Don’t ask me again.”

“Then we’re just as vulnerable when you leave as we were before,” Cobb says. “Sitting ducks for the next syndicate goons.”

“I’m sorry but that isn’t my problem,” says Din. “I’ve gone out of my way to assist and I need to get back to my job. You’re a survivor. You'll survive. Good luck.” He gets up and turns towards the door, he hears the clatter of Cobb’s chair overturning and — the man is quick — he feels something blunt and hard butting into the back of his neck, where he’s only protected by the folds of his cape. If he’s not mistaken, that would be the muzzle of a blaster. Must have been dropped by one of the Mining Collective goons in their rush to leave. Cobb is a survivor, a scavenger; of course he picked it up.

Cobb’s voice is urgent, sharp. “Take it off,” he says, “or I will.” He’s also still recovering from his exhaustion and dehydration. He’s not strong right now. Din simply drops down, whips his leg out and kicks Cobb’s feet out from under him, then rises up as he falls down and steps hard on the wrist of the hand that is indeed holding a blaster. He presses down with his boot until Cobb swears and lets go of the blaster, and then he kicks it away; it skitters under the sagging old piano by the wall. Cobb keeps on swearing and cursing him, sitting up wringing his bruised wrist with the other hand.

“What am I going to do now? What the hell am I going to do now?” he keeps saying.

“I can sympathise with your motives,” Din says, “and that’s why you’re alive now.” The camtono is standing on the table where Cobb set it, and Din picks it up and sets it down between his legs where he sits on the floor. “You should be able to buy the kind of gear you need with this. Try the Jawas, or the black market in Mos Eisley. Don’t tell anyone about me. The Guild takes a very dim view of freebies.”

“That’s it?” Cobb asks, looking up at him from red-rimmed eyes.

“That’s it,” says Din, and turns to go.

“I don’t know your name,” Cobb says abruptly, behind him. Just for a moment, Din wants to tell him. He wants to hold onto the feeling he had that they could have been friends. But Cobb is not his problem. He has more than enough of those.

“I don’t expect our paths will cross again,” he says, and he leaves.

[cocochannel00]

Divorce Papers

Sometimes it can all get a little too much being the wife of Harry Styles... 

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca/Becca (1)

You couldn't lie to yourself anymore. Harry had been touring for the last 5 month and you were at home with two kids under the age of 3. He rarely called, barley visited home, and was always being photographed and big glitzy parties with a bunch of supermodels. At first, you didn't worry, you and Harry were married after all so there really was no worry, but as time went by you became more and more anxious about the situation. His calls went from daily to once a week at most. At first, you thought it was just the jet lag or the time zones that made it difficult but after hearing from him once in a matter of weeks and being forced to text Jeff to get updates on your husband’s whereabouts, you there was a problem.

You understood it was his job to go tour across the world wherever they sent him but you also knew that Harry was responsible for being a father to your children and that was one thing he was not fulfilling. It was always hard to raise toddlers so close in age but when you have to raise them alone because your husband is MIA, the situation could only get worse from there. Luckily Connor always slept through the night, but Becca would start screaming every few hours with no one to help you, it was starting to take a toll on you. Gemma, Harry's sister, tried to make up for her brother’s absence but it wasn't the same.

You were starting to think your marriage was crumbling. Your friends always said it was going to be hard as marrying a celebrity always came with a high price but you had always believed that love conquers all, although this idea was starting to slip away. You had spent the last 5 months thinking strongly on how to fix this problem but you soon realized that Harry had put in zero effort and went on as if nothing was wrong. This always led to the question, Is it even worth fixing at this point? You didn't know but you would soon find out.

After waking up to your alarm clock going off at 8:00 a.m. you rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up an pee. Becca had just begun teething and you were nearly at your wits end having to cuddle her to bed every 2 hours. You manage to avoid waking her up as you crept downstairs to make yourself some breakfast peacefully before Gemma came over to spend the day with you and your kids. You started brewing some coffee as you desperately tried to keep your eyes open. Putting some bread in the toaster you sat at your island in silence, contemplating moving whether to move at all from that spot all day. As you sat there you suddenly heard feet hitting the floor upstairs as your son slowly made his way down the stair.

"Connor, what are you doing up buddy?" You asked as you picked him up in your arms, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"breakfast mama," he said in his broken English as he pointed at his high chair.

"Ok buddy let's get you something to eat," you said as you grabbed a box of Cheerios and some milk, pouring it all into a bowl. Your doorbell rang just as you finished finding him a spoon and placing a bib around his neck.

Slowly you walk over to the door revealing Gemma standing there with a bag of pastries and chocolate donut (Connor’s favorite).

"Well you look like shit," she said as she walked past you. You rolled your eyes and followed her, closing the door on the way in.

She removed the bowl of cheerios from his table and placed the donut down in-front of Connor as he clapped happily.

Gemma placed a kiss on his forehead before turning around to look at you, "still no call?" She asked quietly. 

That had been the million-dollar question for the past two and a half weeks. No call, no text, no word from Harry. You heard nothing about how the tour was going or when he would have his next break. He had essentially cut off all communications and it was ruining you slowly.

You shook your head looking away, trying not to cry about Harry's lack of presence. Gemma swore under her breath and came up to you, giving you a tight hug.

"(Y/n) I know how bad this is and I know how much you love Harry but you can't keep going like this. You've reached your breaking point and this has become an unhealthy relationship. I love my brother with all my heart and I don’t know why he’s doing this but as your friend, I can’t see you like this"

She was right. You had lost at least 10 pounds from the stress and anxiety that Harry was causing you and you knew it needed to come to an end.

"I know but I don't know what to do. I love him, but I can't reach him. I'm basically losing my mind and I don't know how to stop it all" you stated.

She stayed quiet for a minute before quietly asking, "have you thought about a divorce at all?"

In truth you had a couple of times before when it was three in the morning and Becca would scream out for her daddy and you knew there was nothing you could do, but it always felt too extreme.

"Yeah it's crossed my mind a couple times...... but I could never do it I don't think. I love him so much and I can't be alone again, I really can't." You whispered as your eyes began to gloss over.

Gemma wrapped her arms around you tightly. "Shhh, it's going to be ok. Tell you what why don't you come with the kids to my house for a bit and stay there so you’re not alone. I can talk to Michal and see if his friend John can draft up some divorce papers with you... nothing to sign but just to see what it would entail. Did you guys sign a prenup at all? " she asked as you wipe your tears with the edge of your sleeves.

You shook your head, “No, I offered to sign one for him but he refused. Regardless, I don’t want his money, that’s not why I married him”

“I know love, I know. It complicates the situation a bit but nothing that can’t be dealt with later. Besides, you know Harry is going to give you at least half of his earnings if not more regardless of if you want it. He worries about you.” Gemma adds.

“I wish he would at least talk to me if he’s so worried” you mumbled as you heard cries come from the baby monitor sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll call Michal and why don’t you go get Becca” Gemma stated as you went over to wipe the chocolate off of Connor's giddy face as you made your way up the stairs. 

You slowly entered Becca’s room and greeted her with a soft ‘good morning’ as you reached her arms out to you from her crib. You smiled at your baby girl who had seemed to have woken up in a better mood than yesterday. You battle with Becca down the stairs as she attempts to take off your shirt by swatting at your boob (a sign that she’s hungry). 

"Connor says he wants to have a sleepover with me so it has been decided that you’re all staying over at my house” Gemma cheered as Connor giggled in her arms. 

“Gemma, really it’s ok. I don’t want to burden you or Michal” you replied

"Nonsense! Michal loves having these little gremlins and you around. I’ll take Connor up with me and we’ll start packing a bag for him while you feed Rebecca. We have the crib from when Michal’s godson stayed with us a couple of weeks ago so we can move that into the guestroom for you. I'll go call Michal and tell him to come help and we'll be ready in no time!" she said began to make her way upstairs.

"Ok, thanks Gem” you replied as you sat down on the couch with your fussy baby, getting ready to feed her. 

                     ------------------------------------------------------------------

*6 hours later*

After changing Becca and double-checking that you had your purse, you and Gemma got into your car and made the 20-minute drive to Gemma and Michal’s house. Michal being the angel that he is had offered to bring all the bags in his car and drive them over. By the time you got to their house, all your bags were set up in the guest room and the crib Rebecca would be sleeping in was set up in the corner of the room. 

After you had all settled in, Gemma took Connor outside to play in the sprinkler while Becca took a nap upstairs. You sat in the living room with Michal as he began to explain the papers his friend had drafted for you. 

"I'm not gonna lie, this is going to be a long process that will bring out the worst in both of you. Custody will be a major part as well as splitting of assets and money."

You shook your head "I don't want any money. I didn't marry him for money so I'm not going to divorce him for any" you stated

He nodded as he began correcting the forms and continued to explain the legal process as well as the custody procedures. After almost two hours of staring at twenty pages of legal papers, you were finally starting to understanding it all (sort of). Rebecca had woken up ten minutes ago and was now sitting on your lap moving her head every time her name was mentioned. Gemma had brought Connor inside and helped him take a bath and they were watching a movie in her room as you and Michal finished up. You were going over the final details when the doorbell rang. Gemma got up from the couch and went to open it when you suddenly heard some shouting and a pair of rough footsteps heading towards the living room.

You looked up to see none other the Harry who looked both worried and furious at the same time.

"I came home expecting to see my children and wife but I come home to an empty house and a note saying you were gone" he shouted as you sat there in shock, seeing your husband for the first time in months. 

Rebecca whined softly as she became irritated from the loud boom of Harry's voice. Michal quickly stood and rested his hand on your shoulder signaling that he would take Becca upstairs so we could talk. You carefully passed Rebecca off to Michal as Connor came barreling towards Harry. 

“Dada Dada” Connor shouted as his chubby body knocked right into Harry’s legs. 

“Hi baby, I’ve missed you” he replied as he picked up Connor in his arms and showered him with kisses. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself Harry Edward Styles. If mom were here right now she’d have an absolute fit at your behavior. You’re so lucky (Y/n) won’t let me tell her because she would have flown out to whoop your ass. Come on Connor want to go watch the wiggles upstairs” Gemma stated as she grabs Connor from Harry’s arms. 

“wiggles wiggles” Connor cheered as Gemma and Michal carried your kids upstairs.

“If you so much as yell at her Harry I will murder you” Gemma yelled from the top of the stairs. 

Once they were gone you slowly got up from the couch and cleaned up all the papers scattered around the coffee table. As you began placing them in a folder Harry snatched them and began reading through them.

"Divorce papers? Are you serious? I've been gone for my job, a job I have to support you and the kids, and you want to divorce me for it?" He questioned as his anger started to bubble up.

You sighed, "that's not the reason Harry and you know it. It was just an idea Gemma had mentioned so I was looking into it. Besides, I would be divorcing you for neglecting not only me but our family for the last 5 months. Harry, I love you but this isn’t right"

"I had to work (Y/n), what part of that did you not understand?" he shouted as he dropped the papers on the floor. 

"The part where you stop calling your family for months and spend your spare time on yachts with supermodels instead of coming to see your children. I shouldn’t have to ask your manager how you’re doing, you should be telling me" you yell back

He chuckles angrily, "Is that what this is about, you think I cheated? I didn't, but if that’s what you want I'll get right on it? Would that solve your problems?" He replied sarcastically.

Your eyes began to water at the idea Harry described and you pressed your fingers to your eyes as to prevent yourself from crying in front of him. " Harry I love you but if that's how you truly feel then maybe we shouldn't have gotten married in the first place" you stated

"Maybe you're right" he stated as he turns around and stomps towards the kitchen. You let out a shaky breath as you watch him leave. This was not the way you thought your day was going to turn out. 

You began picking up the divorce papers as you hear a cry come from upstairs. Carefully you wipe the tears from your eyes and started to make your way up to go get Becca. You walked into the master bedroom to find Connor fast asleep on Michal’s lap while Gemma attempts to calm Becca down by rocking her back and forth in the corner.

When they spot you in the doorway, Michal gives you a sympathetic smile while Gemma’s frown deepens. You smile in return and pick up Becca from Gemma's arms and walk out of the room. You go to the guest room quickly to grab her favorite blanket and walked downstairs. You can hear Harry pacing in the kitchen, the pile of divorce papers missing from the floor most likely with him. You cautiously made your way to the glass door in the back of the living room and stepped outside into the slightly chilly night, bundling yourself and Becca up in the plush purple blanket Harry had bought Becca when she was born. You turned on the patio light and made your way to Gemma's garden to the small swing standing in the middle of it. 

You stay there crying as you rock Becca to sleep in your arms. A while later you heard footsteps slowly approach the garden and feel the weight of the swing shift as someone sits next to you. You don't dare look up as the smell of cologne gives away that it's Harry. He clears his throat a couple of times before speaking.

"Why wouldn't you take any of my money?" He asked quietly as he folded the divorces papers

You wiped your tears slowly and took a deep breath before responding, "because I didn't marry you for your money so why should I divorce you and get it. I married you because I love you"

"You need the support. I would give you all the money in a heartbeat you know that" he mumbled back

"I have a job and some savings, I could support myself and our kids" you stated. You heard him grunt as he flipped through the pages.

"Custody battle? Do you think it would come to that?" He asked quietly as you saw his shoulders shake.

"My babies are my everything....... I can't lose them like I already lost you" you stated as you caressed Becca's cheek.

"You didn’t lose- were you actually going to sign these?" He asked, voice cracking as you watched his hands begin to shake. 

"No" you replied back, barely louder than a whisper. 

Harry let out a breath and timidly let's go of the papers placing them on the ground before wrapping his arm around you carefully.

The minute your head hit his chest you began to cry. Harry quickly took Becca out of your arms and into his chest as you clung to him, sobbing into his shirt. He caressed his free hand up and down your back and placed chase kisses onto your forehead as he whispered sweet words and apologies to you.

You sobs slowly became sniffles as you wrapped your arms around yourself, leaving your head to lean on Harry's shoulders.

"Baby I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten this bad. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? With all the shows and starting to record the new album, I forgot about the most important thing in my life." He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.

You twiddled with your fingers, "I could never reach you. Every time I tried to call you were busy so I thought, ok he can just call me, but then your calls just got shorter and then they just stopped. I took it as you were busy but even when you had a couple days off you wouldn't come visit. You had basically broken off from us, Harry. I didn't know what to do. I spent most days with Gemma and most nights with a crying Becca keeping me up because all she wanted was her Dada singing her to sleep. I had to play your albums every night to try and get her to calm down and every time your voice played through the speaker, I died inside. It was all too much for me. I was alone Harry and you were nowhere to be found. I want my husband back. I want the man I fell in love with four years ago that use to wake up at 5 am halfway across the globe just to wish me goodnight. I want the man that cried at our wedding as I walked down the aisle. I want the man that tries to sneak chocolate chips into Connor’s pancakes while I’m not watching just to make his baby boy smile. I want my Harry back." you replied as you stared at the ground.

Harry stiffened as you finished speaking. He slowly lifted your chin up to meet your eyes. You could see tears falling down from his eyes as he looked straight at you. You could tell he was hurting and just the thought of him breakdown was making you shatter into a million pieces. You carefully got up from the swing a grabbed Becca from his arms before tucking her head into the nook of your neck as you cautiously sat down on Harry's laps. Harry let out a loud breath before he carefully wrapped his arms around your frame and staring straight into your eyes. 

"I’m right here baby, I’m still your Harry. I love you so much and just the thought of losing you and my babies hurts me more than a bullet ever could. I'm sorry I didn't call but I was so homesick that I figured it would be easier on both of us if I just kept my distance. I figured the check-ins with Jeff would be enough. I know that’s no excuse but I promise baby I’ll be better.  I love you so so much you have no idea (Y/n). I promise I'll be better for you and for our kids just please don't leave me" he said as he hugged you tighter causing a sob to escape your lips.

"I love you too H" you state in between sobs. You both sat there for a while until you had stopped crying. Cautiously Harry lifted your face to look at him.

"Can I rip up those papers when we get back?" He asked timidly as he stared at you.

You nodded furiously and quickly pulled him into a deep kiss. You pulled away breathless as you lean your forehead against his.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it that far. I should have just waited to talk with you before asking Michal about them and I..." you tried to continue but Harry stopped you with a kiss.

"Shhh we're going to get through this baby” He whispered as he caressed your hair. 

“We need to go to therapy, Harry. This was a big deal and I don’t think we can slip this under the rug and get back to where we were without it” You mumbled into his neck. 

“Of course (Y/n). I’ll go to therapy every day for the next thirty years if it means I get to keep you and my babies with me. I'm going to be better for you and for the kids. I'm going to take you all on tour with me from today on and were going to work through this. Now, why don't we head in it starting to get pretty cold." He stated as carefully helped you up while making sure Becca was wrapped up tightly in her blanket. You snuggled deeper into Harry's side and nodded your head as the two of you walked into the house once more.

Gemma and Michal sat on the couch talking quietly to each other as the tv played in the background They looked up at the two of you cautiously. Harry quickly kissed your head and grabbed Becca before taking her upstairs to bed.

You carefully grabbed one of the four full wine glasses on the coffee table and sat on the love seat next to the fire hoping to warm up a bit. Gemma starred at you as you sat there. You knew she was dying to know what happened outside, but she was too kind to ask.

"I think we're going to be ok" you state as you wrap the blanket closer to your chest. Gemma gets up and gives you a big hug.

“You’re not letting him off the hook are you?” she asked sternly.

“No, he’s not off the hook. We’re going to start therapy and we’re going to take things slow. He said he’s going to be home more and that he’s going to take us on tour with him from now on but we’ll see. One day at a time” you mumbled as you took a sip from your glass

"I'm glad it all worked out but if he hurts you again, family or not, I'll kick his ass. No one disrespects my (Y/n)" she said seriously. You laughed and simply nodded your head as you heard Harry's footsteps down the stairs.

"Thanks for watching Connor," Harry said as he shook Michal's hand and kissed the top of Gemma's head as she made her way to the spot next to her husband.

"Anytime. He is so adorable and quiet" Michal gushed.

You smiled softly and moved over slightly in your seat, making room for Harry. Harry carefully picked you up from the love seat and sat down, placing you on his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you, burying his head into your neck. 

The four of you spent the rest of the night watching tv quietly as you cuddled in the loveseat, Harry stealing sips from your wine glass as you try your hardest not to fall asleep. After a while, Gemma and Michal said their goodnights and headed up to their room as Harry carefully picked you up and carried you to the guest room. He slowly laid you on the bed and removed all of your clothes except your underwear before taking off his shirt and helping you place your arms in the sleeves. He tucked you into bed and quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants before grabbing a pillow and getting ready to spend the night on the floor. He didn’t want to overstep and end the day on the wrong note but the minute he heard you call his name he smiled. He quickly checked on Becca that was fast asleep in her crib while Connor slept peacefully in the small bed laid out next to your bed. He gave both of them a quick kiss on the cheek before carefully sliding into bed behind you.

 You curled your body into Harry's and sighed contently as he wrapped his arms around you. You heard a faint "I love you, baby, so much" from Harry as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time in months, you were able to sleep through the night and you couldn't be happier.

Wow, it’s been a long time but I hope ya’ll enjoyed this one!!

Masterlist

[jango-fettish]

3 - A Salacious B. Crumb vs Boba Fett Story

Summary: Salacious B. Crumb is an enigma. Boba Fett is seemingly unkillable god. So what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? 

Warnings: Canonical Violence, Character Death, OCC Salacious 

Word Count: 2744

A/N: yeah the title is another britney spears song, deal with it. this has not been edited or read over after it was written so enjoy my mistakes (i meant typos and what nots, i know this entire thing could be considered a mistake). i gave up towards the end but whatever

Tagging my mutuals who tolerate my bullshit: @a-dorin @simping-for-fives @nelba @chadillacboseman @porgnugget @cptnbvcks​ @blxwjobsforclones @clonewarslover55​ @djxrxn​ @escapedthesarlacc

Gif is not mine. i got it from here. 

Tatooine was a barren wasteland, with only two outcomes for those unfortunate enough to land on the sandy dunes: a slow death or a quick death. No one ever got to choose which one would happen to them, it just happened. You could be a young child, just walking around the corner and getting caught in an unsuspected dust storm, sand filling every crevice and making home in your lungs. Or you could live for years, your skin and soul withering away under the twin suns, the heat baking you slowly from the inside out until you breathe your final breath. 

Or, for some reason, you could actually get lucky and survive something that should have been your end. In an instant you turn into a god amongst mortals, someone who could say that Tatooine tried her best to end you, but you were just better. That is until the ever-changing dunes decided that today would be the day and become your grave. It was a rare occurrence, even more rare to happen to multiple people in the same day, in the same place. But luck and whatever greater being they believed in was on their side. And they lived. 

Salacious B. Crumb, for all intents and purposes, should have died the moment he became the jester of Jabba the Hutt. The little Kowakian monkey-lizard wasn’t built for the festering, dry heat of Tatooine. What a change from the tropical climate and landscapes of his mother planet. Nonetheless, he adapted and survived. Though there were a few times that he was almost crushed by the weight of his master, or swallowed by the great slug beast for not doing his job. The little shit was tough, tough enough to be able to stare bounty hunters, such as Boba Fett, down and laugh in his face without worry of consequences. 

But Boba Fett was the type to not forgive or forget transgressions, even the same ones. The noxious laugh of Jabba’s most loyal pet seemed to bother everyone besides the Hutt. Each time he arrived back in the dais to get a new job, Boba planned out exactly how he would kill the little creature, each growing more and more violent in nature. In the end, he had three perfectly planned out executions for the little creature. He wouldn’t be able to live out his sick fantasies, at least not when the Kowakian was wrapped snugly in Jabba’s tail, stealing the small morsels of food that broke off of Jabba’s meal. 

Even as he fell into the great stomach of the Sarlacc, Boba could hear the high laugh of Salacious B. Crumb mocking him. It was cut short when there was a great explosion and, while it wasn’t one of the three ways Boba would have killed him, he was glad that at least it was done. But, their destinies were intertwined that day. Both were supposed to die in the swirling sands of the Dune Sea. But the Sea had other plans for them.

Boba Fett sat atop the throne once owned by his employer. How the fates had changed in favor of the Mandalorian, once swallowed the decaying in the bubbling stomach of the Sarlacc, now seated in a position of power no man would dream of having. 

But Boba Fett was no ordinary man. 

***********

As he stared at the bodies flooding the chamber, celebrating the ending of Bib Fortuna’s rule over the once powerful Hutt Empire, Boba felt at ease for the first time in his life. He had his father’s armor back, he completed a quest and earned himself a new powerful ally. However, even with all that, Boba could feel the bubbling of uncertainty in his gut. 

Under the safety of his visor, Boba’s dark eyes watched Fennec Shand, his faithful partner, flirt with a purple skinned Twi’lek woman. Once unsure of trusting an assassin with a reputation such as Fennec’s, who at a moment's notice could easily blind side him and take everything he worked so hard for, Boba was sure he could trust her. He had saved her life after all. No, she wouldn’t be the one to betray him. 

He didn’t have to worry about any supporters of Bib Fortuna. The pale Twi’lek had made many enemies within the five years he was in power, growing greedy and selfish. It helped that Boba’s reputation in the galaxy was well known and feared. He was a god, been to hell and back. Who would dare try to challenge him? 

“F-F-Fett,” a high gravely voice whispered from behind him. It was like a breeze, barely there, but he could hear it. 

Boba sat straighter in the throne and tried to drown out the sounds of laughing and merriment that echoed throughout the room. The helmet could only filter out so much. He wasn’t the same bounty hunter he used to be before the pit. Though he was only in the belly for two days, the Sarlacc did more damage to him than he would like to admit. His leg, which he surprisingly was able to save, burned and ached every step he took. The heavy beskar armor just added to the additional stress. He was in constant pain, unable to fully find a sedative or pill that would dull the pins and needles he felt in his knees. His ever increasing age only added to it. But gods didn’t feel pain, so Boba didn’t either. 

“Fett,” the voice called again from his left. Boba whipped his head to the side, looking in the direct the whisper came. It was coming from deep in the many caves of the palace. The voice probably travelled not that far though to get to him. He seemed to be the only one that could hear it. Part of him wondered if he was imagining things, if the voice was just a hallucination. Maybe it was a new symptom of the pit. 

Great.

Boba slowly stood up, his knees cracking each inch he rose. 

“Leaving the party so soon, Fett?” Fennec Shand asked from the edge of the dias, getting his attention briefly, before he looked back in the direction of the whisper. She held a bottle of bright blue spotchka, her drink of choice. “What’s the rush?” 

“Want to check something out,” he muttered.

“Ah, going after the ghost?” 

“Ghost?” The vocoder crackled his voice. 

“Some of the boys were telling me that they heard laughing in one of the storage rooms. Couldn’t find anything or anyone down there though.”

“Laughing? What kind of laughing?” Boba asked, looking back to Fennec. 

She shrugged, “Beats me. Said it was annoying enough to make them not want to go back in there.” 

Boba’s hand twitched slightly. An annoying laugh. He knew quite a few people who he could easily categorize their laugh as annoying, but none of them from this part of the galaxy. Except one. But he was dead...but then again, so was Boba. 

“Crumb,” Boba growled, grabbing his blaster. 

“Crumb?” Fennec asked to deaf ears as Boba made his way to the hallway entrance. 

The winding halls that led deep into the ground were dimly lit as he made his way deeper into the cave system of the Palace. The walls were glistening, the moisture collecting into little pellets the deeper Boba ventured into the ground. Where had Fennec said the laugh was coming from? One of the storage rooms? 

As if on cue, a guttural laugh resonated in the hall. The sound hit Boba right in the gut, sending goosebumps up his arms. It wasn’t fear, but irritation that coursed through his body. Boba ground his teeth together, stomping down to the one storage room he knew would hold the little monster. For years Boba watched the little shit pick at the food that was given to him or that he stole, going straight for the dried, cured meats. His beak would tear at the muscles, ripping them into shreds before consuming the food with a hearty laugh. 

Boba stood in the doorway of the storage room where the keepers of the Palace kept the dried meats. Different cuts and creatures hung from the ceiling on large hooks, perfectly still. The room had no light, other than the faint glow that flowed through the doorway. Boba’s body shielded most of the light, his shadow disappearing within the room where the light touched. 

“Where are you, you little shit?” Boba growled. He took one step forward, shifting his visor into night vision.

“ooooAHAHHAHAHAHA,” the voice cackled loudly. 

Boba couldn’t see anything, other than hanging meat, as he stepped through the room. His blaster was drawn at the ready, finger secure on the trigger. For years he dreamed a day like this would come. No longer was Jabba around to protect the Kowakian. 

“Come on now, little monkey, how did you survive?” Boba asked, pushing a piece of Bantha thigh out of his way. 

“F-Fett!” the voice called before chuckling darkly. The sound was unsettling. Boba hadn’t known the creature to speak actual words. Was it even possible? The deeper Boba stepped into the meat cellar, the greater his uneasiness grew. 

“Did Fortuna let you sneak your way back in here? If it were me, I’d have put you on the pit roast the moment you showed your fucking face.” 

Silence: something Boba did not like. 

“Show yourself!” he called out.

A chain to his left shook and he heard a scream. He turned, but a second too late and Salacious B. Crumb landed on the Mandalorian’s shoulder, his sharp beak trying to find a soft spot to sink into. The Kowakian’s claws dragged themselves across Boba’s helmet. Salacious was laughing the entire time, the haunting noise drowning out Boba’s curses. Boba gripped the scruff on Salicious’s neck, ripping him off and threw him back into the shadows. Truthfully, Boba knew that he should have strangled the little guy there, but the nauseating laughs irritated him to no end. Boba just needed him away.

Salacious clung to one of the hanging meats, his claws ripping into the tendons. He glared down at Boba, who had fully regained himself after the quick attack. How Salacious wished nothing more than to strike again, but he knew better. He had to bide his time. Boba Fett was good, better than most if not all bounty hunters. The Mandalorian looked up at Salacious, and tilted his head to the side. 

“You always were an ugly little shit,” Boba said. 

It was true, time had not been kind to Salacious. The fires from the explosion took most of his fur, save a few patches on his back. His once oil rich skin was rough and dry, as were his claws and beak. The iron rich meals he received from living in the meat cellar had provided Salacious with enough sustenance to gain weight. He was heftier, larger than Boba remembered. But it was the frenzied look in Salacious’s beady yellow eyes that struck the Mandalorian. 

“Fett!” Salacious cried out, his high voice rattling through the tense air. “Feeds on Fett Crumb will! Gain his power Crumb shall! AHAHAHAHAHHA.” 

Being alone in a dark room had made the Kowakian delirious and wild. 

“Just as Crumb did with the others!” Salacious howled again. 

“Others?” Boba asked. But a quick glance to the side answered his question. In the farthest corner that the light could touch were stacks of bones and mangled bodies of decaying Gamorreans. Boba himself had ousted most of them, not wanting to rely on the pig creatures. 

“You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you, little monkey?” Boba said, raising his blaster once more. 

“Fett thinks he funny. Funnier than Crumb? Never!” Salacious growled, and jumped to another piece of meat. The chains rattled and moaned under the new strain. 

“You’ve gotten fat,” Boba said. 

Salacious grin was sinister and showed what rotting teeth he had left, “Fortuna got fat! Why not Crumb?” 

“I’ll give you that.” Boba watched as Salacious jumped to another, closer, piece of meat. “Watch it, little monkey.” 

Salacious went quiet and still, his head lurching to the side. His tongue flicked out from his beak, coating the tip in spit. He began making incoherent noises, babbling to himself.

“How are we going to do this?” Boba asked, “Though, to be honest with you, little monkey, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Crumb told Fett already!” Salacious cried out, “Crumb will eats Fett!” 

“Not a great plan.” Boba took a step forward causing Salacious to hiss. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time.”

Salacious’s body curled back, his eyes flickering to the piece of meat hanging to the left of Boba and Boba himself. After a few seconds, his angered look rested on Boba. He had made his decision. He lunged forward, claws ready to attach themselves into whatever piece of Boba they could. Salacious was fast, but a blaster was faster. 

And with Boba Fett at the end of the blaster, you are sure to lose. 

Salacious howled in pain, falling just before Boba’s boots with a dull thud. Smoke rose from his chest from where the blaster shot landed. He coughed out pathetically, blood spattering onto Boba’s boots, before stilling. Boba counted to three silently and then slowly began to bend down. His knees creaked and groaned with the chains. 

Before he was in a full squat, Salacious’s eyes opened wide and he swatted out at Boba. His claws connect with the beskar of Boba’s chest armor, scratching away the forest green paint in four jagged lines.

“Fuck,” Boba shouted, jumping back. 

“F..F...Fett,” Salacious said weakly, coughing once again. His chest moved erratically before completely stilling. His glossy eyes dulled over and his tongue hung limply out the side of his mouth. 

This time, Boba waited longer than three seconds, and this time, he didn’t bend down to check to see if Salacious was really dead. Boba nudged the limp body with the toe of his boot, making a satisfied noise when the body simply rolled to the other side, blood seeping out from underneath. 

By the time Boba emerged from the depths of the winding cavens, the crowd he had left doubled in size. He found Fennec easily in the mass of bodies, lounging in a large chair with a jug of spotchka, and not only the purple Twi’lek seated on her lap, but a human woman seated next to her, drinking in every word Fennec had to say. Boba approached his partner, the crowd dispersing from his path. One of the perks of being king, though it wasn’t really an issue for him before either.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. How was your little adventure?” Fennec asked. 

“Need you to do something for me,” Boba said, ignoring her question. He was in no mood for games; he just wanted to fuck off from the world and sleep.  

Fennec smiled charmingly at the human woman, “Hold on a moment sweetheart.” 

“I need you to get some men to go to the meat cellar and clean it up,” Boba began, “Tell them to get rid of everything.”

“We just got a fresh shipment the other day, why do we-”

“It’s spoiled,” Boba interjected. Fennec stared at him, leaning back in the chair. She knew well enough that it wasn’t spoiled; she had been there when the shipment came in and checked it herself. Everything was fresh and top of the line. 

“That’s new.” Fennec said, pointing her jug of spotchka to the four lines on his armor. “What happened there?”

“Fucking monkey,” Boba grumbled. Fennec was about to question what he meant, but Boba held a hand up, silencing any words from her. “Just...just have them clean the damn meat cellar.” 

Fennec nodded, taking a sip of the blue liquid. “Did you find that ghost?” 

Boba laughed darkly, “Oh I found him alright. Fucking took care of it too.” Boba grabbed the jug of spotchka from Fennec, “I’m going to my chambers, I don’t want to be bothered.”

“I was drinking that,” Fennec said. 

But her words drifted into the noise of the crowd, becoming one with the cacophony of laughs and jests and music. But the one thing Boba did not hear was that high pitched Kowakian squeal that chased him down the Sarlacc’s mouth. And he was content with that.

[tsukkisbean]

24 cakes pt.1 | oneshot

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mildly suggestive

warnings: none!

a/n: so this kind of turned into a oneshot but oh well. i also tried to make it so that you could technically read the two parts separately if you prefer fluff/smut over the other but idk how well that worked out. anyways, pt 2 has been scheduled to come out in 2 hours. n e ways TSUKISHIMA BEST BOY!! also this is a reupload bc my original post disappeared. if you already saw this NO U DIDN’T

the smell of smoke engulfs your apartment and you quickly run to slide open your balcony door. turning on your heels you make your way back to the kitchen. clambering atop the counter you try to wave the air clear with your palms. when the piercing sound of the smoke alarm finally cuts out, you plop down, letting your legs dangle over the edge of the counter.

your eyes land on the stovetop where your burnt creation sits. you let out a frustrated cry. you’ve made this recipe more times than you can count on your fingers because somehow they’ve all ended up in disaster. first, there was the time you underbeat the whipped cream, and ended up with a sticky mess. then there was the time you accidentally knocked the batter onto the floor. not to mention the time you dropped the cake right as you pulled it out of the oven.

this time you had gotten so wrapped up in your phone call with tsukishima you didn’t realize that your oven timer was going off. by the time you had come to your senses, it was too late.

you rub your temples in annoyance. despite starting weeks in advance to make sure you had the recipe down, it was now the day of your boyfriend’s birthday and you had yet to successfully finish the recipe even once.

taking a quick glance at the clock, you push yourself off the counter to throw away your burnt masterpiece and begin pulling out ingredients once more. tsukishima was supposed to be over in a few hours, so if you wanted to have enough time you had to start now.

you’re about to combine the dry ingredients together when there’s a brisk knock on the door. dusting your hands on your apron, you make your way to the front entrance. you swing your door open, and slam it shut just as fast. 

the knocking starts up again, this time more persistent and more aggressive. your fingers fumble with the door chain, sliding it into place before cracking the door open ever so slightly. you’re about to peek out into the hallway, but before you can get a good view, your visitor tries to force the door open further causing you to jump back in surprise.

“y/n? what the hell are you doing?” the person on the other side says, irritation evident in their voice. when you don’t respond they speak again, this time with a much softer tone, “y/n please let me in. are you okay?”

“mhm” is the only thing you manage to squeeze out though it sounds more like a squeak. gently pressing the door closed again, you remove the chain to let your visitor in. when your boyfriend comes into full view, you flash him a bashful smile, “sorry, kei. i was just caught off guard, i thought we agreed that you’d come over at 9pm.”

the tall male scoffs, raising his hand to give your forehead a flick, before perching forward to press an apologetic kiss against the red mark, “nii-chan got held up at work so he won’t be here until tomorrow.”

you try to pull off your best scowl, only to have him to snort at you, “so? are you going to let me in or are you going to keep making faces at me?” he cranes his neck to look past you, his height giving him a clear advantage.

reluctantly, you step aside and he lets himself in, removing his shoes and changing into his slippers in the process. as the two of you step into the kitchen, you avoid eye contact, already able to picture the smug expression on his face.

his arms slip around your waist, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. despite the sweet actions, the nuance in his voice says otherwise, “aw y/n were you trying to bake me a birthday cake? you really shouldn’t have.”

you pull away from him, sticking out your tongue in response, “fine in that case i’m going to make this strawberry shortcake for myself.” you tap your chin pretending to deep in thought for a moment, “or maybe i’ll ask yamaguchi if he wants some.”

you expect a snarky remark but he says nothing, instead he strides over to one of the drawers to pull out an apron. you watch as he hooks the bib around his neck, and fastens the string around his waist.

he picks up the recipe by the corner, letting it dangle in the air. he shoots you a questioning look but you shrug your shoulders and snatch the paper out of his hands. “so i’ve already tried to bake this recipe a couple of times, it’s bound to have a couple of stains here and there.”

“how many times is a couple, really? three? ten? fifty?”

you mutter something under your breath, fingers fiddling with each other. tsukishima leans in closer, cupping his ear with his hand, “sorry, can you say that again?”

you roll your eyes, this time your voice at a normal volume, “twenty-three.”

this time tsukishima laughs with his whole chest, using his pointer finger to gently push your head, “twenty-three? i’m surprised you haven’t burned the entire place down.”

placing your hands on your hips, you challenge him, “what? you think you can do better?”

he shifts in his spot so that your eyes are level with his, “oh i know i can do better.”

with that, he snatches the recipe back from you, doing a careful readthrough of each step. you watch as he scoops a cup of flour, neatly levelling it with a metal spatula. just as he’s about to pour the flour into the bowl, you lunge forward, bumping your hip against his side. a white cloud rises into the air, coating the both of you in flour.

tsukishima grabs you by the wrists, clicking his tongue in annoyance “tsk, do you really hate losing that much?”

you feign innocence, flashing him your sweetest smile, “sorry, i lost my balance.”

unable to think of a comeback he releases you, turning his attention back to the task at hand. as works through each step, you shadow him, interjecting a few comments every so often.

wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your face against the side of his body, “are you sure that’s soft peaks it’s looking a little runny still”

he tilts the bowl towards you, lifting the mixer up so you can see how the egg whites droop over slightly, “yes i’m sure.”

you take your chance again when he moves onto the next step, “be careful not to add the sugar too fast or-”

but to your dismay he’s already one step ahead of you,“then the stiff peaks won’t form, i know.”

in a last resort to try and distract him, you throw in one last punch, “are you really sure you want to fold your meringue in now? it’s looking a little soft still.” obviously fed up with your antics, tsukishima grabs the metal bowl, flipping it above your head.

instinctively, you duck your head down and cover your head with your hands. cracking an eye open, you’re met with his usual smirk. and so, you shuffle over to the other side of the counter situating yourself on one of the bar stools.

you watch silently as he works through the final steps with ease. once the cake is placed in the oven he turns his attention back to you.

his long frame leans over the kitchen counter and kisses the tip of your nose, “sorry, but it looks like this is just one more thing that i’m better than you at. although 24 cakes does seem appropriate for today’s occasion, huh?”

you huff, crossing your arms against your chest, “technically you’re not finished until the cake its cooked, iced, and decorated.” turning your head slightly you side eye him, “besides you may be better than me at some things. but you’re definitely not everything.”

a sly smile appears on tsukishima’s face, “oh yeah? i can think of plenty of things that i can beat you at right now.”

your palms hit the counter as your body shoots out of its seat, “oh yeah? let’s go then. right here, right now.”

(a/n: if you want to read the smutty ending of this then please check out my blog at 3:00pm pst (in 2 hrs)! i’ve scheduled the next post for then. otherwise read on hehe.)

your entire body quivers under your boyfriend. never have you wanted to scream at him so bad before. but you bite your tongue and hold yourself back for the time being. there was no way you were going to lose to him, not when you had so confidently declared that you were going to beat him.

“left hand yellow, y/n.”

you let out a triumphant yell as your hand is already planted on a yellow spot. but the feeling is short lived when you realize that you now have to maneuver yourself to reach the spinner. it’s obvious your boyfriend is thinking the same thing from the way he shoots you a smile.

but you refuse to lose, not when you’ve held out for this long. before your hand reaches the spinner, a blaring noise fills the room.

the two of you look at each other, and this time it’s you who shoots him a knowing smile. he glowers at you as he twists his body to stand up. once he stands up fully erect, your arms and legs give out, your body crumpling onto the floor.

as you lay there, a delicious scent fills your nostrils. automatically, you rise to your feet, skittering over to join your boyfriend by the oven. he takes notice of your presence, and defensively holds his arms out, “don’t you dare come anywhere near my cake. you might ruin it.”

your mouth hangs open, reaching out to give his chest a playful shove, “hey i’m good at baking. i just had a few…mishaps.” your voice trails off momentarily, “plus i just beat you at twister, so technically we’re tied for today!”

tsukishima clicks his tongue, obviously irritated at the fact that he most likely would have won if it weren’t for the timer going off.

“let’s play another round, loser has to wash all the dishes.” he extends his hand out to you.

grabbing his hand, you give it a firm shake, “you’re on! prepare to lose, kei.”

your grip loosens but before you can completely pull your hand away, you’re tugged against tsukishima’s body. in one swift motion his lips capture yours in a chaste kiss. after a moment, he pulls away slightly, letting your lips brush against each other as he speaks, “whatever you say, love. but just remember today is my birthday.”

a/n: hello!! i’m putting my final author’s note here just because i didn’t wanna spoil the ending hehe. anyways i hope you guys liked the ending now i’m thinking about doing twister hc with haikyuu sooooooo look out for that :)

[cuddlepilefics]

Could you do another GOT7 little space please? Where Yugyeom is a closeted little whose headspace is around 4 and JB walks in on him regressed. And Yugyeom ends up slipping into baby space and JB has to figure things out. I really enjoy your fics

Oh, alright

 Fandom: GOT7

Little: Yugyeom (age 1-4)

Caregiver: Jaebeom

 No one’s POV.:

Yugyeom had first learned about age regression during highschool. Two of his closest friends had come out to him as little and he occasionally took care of them. He found his friends quite cute when they were little but never considered slipping himself. His height making it difficult for him to feel small. Until he started to train under JYP, that is. A few months into his training, the pressure was already getting to him and for the sake of his sanity, he tried age regression for himself. It was difficult in the beginning but after a while, slipping felt more natural to him and he established his typical headspace age of four years. It was young enough to get away from the stress but he could still take care of himself and make sure he wouldn’t get caught. Regressing still remained his favorite and most effective coping mechanism after debut, though Yugyeom never told his band members about his headspace. They all knew the dancer wanted to be cute and yearned for affection from his friends but they never knew why. Sure, Yugyeom trusted them but he was too afraid of being rejected to ever out himself. He regressed every time he’d get the dorm to himself or cover his face during his sleep, so nobody would see him suck on his thumb. It had worked pretty well all these years, so he never even considered telling the others, despite wishing for a caregiver who’d treat him all soft and affectionate.

Today Yugyeom was tasked with choreographing one of their new songs. It was easy, the beat taking over his body and within the next two hours he was done. He kept practicing it for a while and recorded it to teach his members later that week. The dancer had expected to be spending the entire day in the practice room but to his surprise, he was able to go home shortly before lunch. He had no other schedule that day because no one expected him to finish up that quickly. The other members all had their own schedules, that would last the whole day too, which meant the dorm would be empty for at least five more hours, probably longer. A spark of excitement lit up his face. It had been ages since he had been little for longer than an hour. On his way back to the dorm, Yugyeom picked up some kimbap, so he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of cooking for himself. Kicking off his shoes at the front door, the dancer dropped his bag and took a quick shower. The rubber duck he had taken with him, made it easy to let go of all the adult thoughts clouding his head. Afterwards he changed into black shorts and an oversized yellow sweater. He took his sippy cup and filled it with juice before sitting down at the table with his kimbap and juice. The little also tied a tea towel around his neck to create a makeshift bib. Little Yugyeom was not necessarily a messy eater but the bib made him feel small and it protected his favorite headspace sweater from any potential stains. He hummed happily, nibbling on his kimbap. He had really missed this.

After his meal, he cleaned up after himself and threw the tea towel into the wash. He picked up his sippy cup and took it back to his and Bambam’s shared room. Sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, Yugyeom pulled out a small box from under his bed. For a second his eyes became glossy, when they fell on his light blue pacifier. He usually preferred his paci over his thumb but when he slept his thumb was easier to hide, so he hasn’t been able to use that comfort item in a long time. Slipping the paci between his lips, the little instantly relaxed and started to suckle on it softly. He also pulled out a coloring book and some crayons for later, as well as a few small toy cars to play with now. While the coloring book sat on his bed untouched, Yugyeom let the cars race all over the room, over his desk and up him closet, making quiet ‘vroom vroom’ noises behind his pacifier.

Jaebeom had, similar to his dongsaeng, gotten off of work early that day. He had been in a meeting with their management which was supposed to last all day but was unexpectedly cut short due to the absence of one of their managers. Whispering lightly, the leader made his way back to the dorm, happy to have some time to himself. He might go for a walk later to relax and clear his head but for now all he wanted was to go home. Kicking off his shoes, he stopped whispering to engulf in the rare silence. It wasn’t all that silent though. Further down the hall way Jaebeom heard some weird muffled noises, coming from the direction of their maknaes’ room. Furrowing his browns, the leader made his way down the hallway to check it out. He didn’t expect either of the two to be home already, so he peaked into the room without knocking. The leader had expected anything, literally anything, except coming face to face with their giant maknae, having a pacifier in his mouth and a toy car in his hand. The younger was frozen in his spot, staring at his hyung in horror. Jaebeom was frozen too, taking in the scene but unable to make any sense of it. Thick silence hung over both of them, only interrupted by the car slipping from Yugyeom’s hand and clattering to the ground.

The little’s breath hitched and the tears started to spill. He was frightened, slipping fast. From being scared of his hyung finding him weird to not being able to identify why he was scared, only knowing what was happening was extremely bad and a reason to be terrified. Yugyeom was sobbing, harshly sucking on his paci and hiding his face with his arms. Jaebeom, though more confused than he had ever been before, sprung into action upon seeing his youngest dongsaeng cry. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the maknae’s shaking frame. “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t cry! Gyeommie, what’s going on? Please talk to me”, the leader frowned, giving the crying boy a light squeeze. Yugyeom just continued to cry his little heart out, clutching onto Jaebeom’s shirt, afraid his hyung would leave him. The leader was starting to get really worried, their youngest was not himself at all and he wouldn’t calm down. His breathing sounded so ragged, that Jaebeom pulled back a bit to look at his face and shushed: “Deep breaths, Gyeom. You’ll be fine, just breathe, yeah?” To Yugyeom it didn’t feel like anything would be fine ever again. He just knew that he couldn’t let his hyung leave him, so standing quite close to his bed, he gave the older a push and tackled him onto the bed.

Still breathing heavily, the little pressed himself against the older’s side. “Oh, alright. …Cuddles, I – I guess we can do that”, Jaebeom stuttered, surprised, “can you at least try to take a deep breath for me, brownie?” Yugyeom’s kept choking on his sobs, not even trying to follow the leader’s instructions. The Jaebeom it seemed like the pacifier between the maknae’s lips made it more difficult for him to breathe, so he grabbed it and with some struggle extracted it from his friend’s mouth, hoping the younger would be able to take a proper breath in and calm down afterwards. Quite the opposite turned out to be the case. The little misinterpreted his hyung’s actions and thought, the older would throw his comfort item away before scolding him for using it in the first place. Watching Yugyeom freak out and desperately reach for the blue object in Jaebeom’s hand, the leader looked at him horrified and quickly put it back between his swollen lips. The older found a plushie concealed by the blanket and pressed in into the crying boy’s arms. At a loss for what would calm his doongsaeng down, Jaebeom started to sing softly, one arm wrapped around the little’s waist, the other rubbing his upper back comfortingly.

It had been half an hour but Jaebeom still hadn’t gotten a single word out of Yugyeom. His sobs were slowly quietening down to weak, little hiccups, accompanied by the occasional tear, dripping onto the leader’s shirt. The dancer had exhausted himself with his anxious meltdown and he wandered on the edge of sleep, with the pacifier bopping softly between his pink swollen lips. Jaebeom continued to stroke his back until he was absolutely certain the maknae was asleep before shifting a bit to pull out his phone. If he couldn’t get an explanation out of his friend, he’d have to ask the internet as to why a full-grown man would be using a pacifier and children’s toys. He had to try out different search terms, since none of the results seemed to fit their situation but after a while he found something that seemed close to what he was dealing with. Age regression, a coping mechanism to handle emotional stress and possibly anxious thoughts. Jaebeom did more research on this as it seemed like Yugyeom was what people called a ‘little’ or ‘age regressor’. When he was satisfied that it was a harmless thing to do, he tried to find out how best to care for somebody in headspace. All it said was to treat the little like a real child and the age the regressor feels like in that particular moment. That seemed difficult. First treating somebody who’s taller than yourself is hard and second, how could he even find out how old Yugyeom was feeling if he didn’t talk?

Deep in his thoughts, Jaebeom remained in his spot on Yugyeom’s bed and let the little rest on his chest. His heart clenched, remembering the pure horror in the younger’s eyes. ‘He must have been so scared of me judging him’, the leader thought. Looking around the room, he didn’t only spot the abandoned toy car but also a coloring book and crayons close to his feet and a sippy cup on the nightstand. His attention was back on Yugyeom when the younger sniffled softly before sitting up and rubbing his fist over his swollen eyes. “Hey Gyeommie. How was your nap?”, Jaebeom asked softly, cringing inwardly at his awkwardness. The maknae’s eyes went wide and almost filled with tears again before the leader sat up, smiling: “Don’t cry, cutie. Hyung figured out what’s going on and he’s not thinking badly of you, okay? Need a hug, little one?” Yugyeom blinked at him in confusion but snuggled into the older’s broad chest anyways. Jaebeom picked up the sippy from the nightstand, afraid the younger would get dehydrated from all the crying he had done. “Here, have a few sips. We can’t have you dry out from crying now, can we?”, he asked gently. The little shook his head to that and reached for the sippy himself. Jaebeom had other plans though and removed the younger’s pacifier, promising when he saw the worried frown: “You’ll get it right back after drinking something.” Then he raised the sippy up to the little’s lips and had him drink a bit before letting him have his pacifier back. They both knew they’d have to talk later when Yugyeom got out of his headspace but till the others get back, they’d still have some quality cuddle time together.

[olivereliocorcordium1983]

Summary: "I will try it on for Oliver. If Oliver thinks I look like a scarecrow in it, I'm not wearing it." - Elio, (call me by your name) basically what would have happened if Oliver had stayed instead of going to see his translater. XD

(got inspired by a pic on @charmied and my muse hit here is what became of it! Enjoy! ❤️)

Oliver

The sun was particularly hot that day at the villa I was sitting outside with Elio and his family relaxing at the breakfast table, when I had heard Elio say something that caught my attention. More specifically caught me off guard as I was thinking about meeting my translator for the day and going over my book that evening. 

“I will try it on for Oliver. If Oliver thinks I look like a scarecrow in it, I'm not wearing it.”  

“Wait hold on! What? Why am I being roped into this and show me what?! “

I keep totally silent for a second until Elio catches my attention, and I just give him a look as he says, “Oliver? What do you think?” his eyes are hopeful.

“Why does he care what I think?”

I look at Annella who gives a soft smile and I quickly say, “What time you got?” grabbing Elio’s wrist, turning it in my hand so that I can look at his watch and he gives me another look that wishes for me not to go. Or is that irritation upon my multiple times of leaving? I can’t tell, either way this situation makes me nervous and I don’t trust myself. 

“Two thirty.”  Annella replies for Elio, before she puts her cigarette to her lips, all knowing smirk on her face. 

I watch Elio disappear into the house after that, practically running as fast as he can to get away from the table. 

‘I shouldn’t follow him, I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.  I’ve been good, I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of… yet.’

I have been so good up until now, I have kept my distance from him not giving into the thoughts that come to my mind. My feelings about this boy have been kept to myself and the fear of them, make me nervous yet, it is no secret that I want him. But he doesn’t know that. 

‘Don’t follow him. Don’t…. Oh what the hell sate the curiosity before it’s too late. Besides, you have plenty of time.’ 

“Welp later mrs P.”  I reply giving her a closed mouth smile. 

“Later.”  she replies and as I head into the house, jogging lightly  I can feel her eyes staring at my back the entire time while I go and search for Elio. 

Once inside I look around and search for the professor I look into the kitchen, the study, the hallways, I even poke my head outside again just for good measure, and he isn’t anywhere to be found. The only person I find is Mafalda taking care of the fish Anchise brought from his daily catch, she looks up at me expectantly as if to ask  “can I help you?” and I just smile, backing out of the room and then I hear yelling coming from upstairs.

It’s the professor’s voice along with Elio’s petulant whine and I can’t help but head towards the staircase, my shoes giving off soft taps as they hit the floor, I place my hand on the railing and look up debating on whether or not I should go up and see what’s wrong.

“Papa! It will look up like a put up job!”

“No misbehaving tonight! No laughing. When I tell you to play you will play! You’re too old not to accept people for who they are! What’s wrong with them?”  

There is a pause and I slowly decide to ascend the stairs slowly, sliding my hand up the railing. The argument doesn’t sound like a full on angry fight like shouting but clearly pro is trying to make a point, I can also hear the sound of things being shuffled around, like hangers being dragged across metal. 

“What’s wrong with them? You call them Sonny and Cher! Behind their backs and then you accept gifts from them!”

“That is what mom calls them!” Elio shouts back a soft laugh in his voice and I shake my head slowly, as I stop at the top of the steps that lead into the hallway to the room I am staying in. 

“The only person that reflects badly on, is you. Is it because their gay? Or because they’re ridiculous?”

Elio is laughing by this point and all I can think is that if it was me, my father would have smacked me. No conversation at all just full on smacked. But I can’t help the snickers that come from my mouth that I muffle with the back of my hand, as I come closer. 

“Now get into this you.” and that was the last of the conversation and I move to the side as the professor comes out of the room, he looks at me and he shakes his head softly. I give him a look of comfort shrugging softly as I watch him move to my left to go back down the stairs, the sound of his shoes echo in my ears. 

I walk slowly to the bedroom door and gently knock once, twice, and then I open the door and step into the room, the sight that I see makes my eyes widen and my mouth goes dry. 

Elio is standing in front of the mirror with what I assume is the shirt in question on backwards with a fallen, almost frustrated look in his eyes as he finally notices me standing there. A blush comes over his cheeks and he looks away from me, ashamed almost from not being able to figure out how to put it on as I sit down in his chair at his desk. 

“That’s quite the… um... look you got on there, Elio. It’s-”

“Stupid. It’s stupid. I knew this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have never-” He shakes his head, his soft curls bouncing around with the movement, his eyes welling up, his nose turning pink, he grabs the shirt and is about to pull it off when I suddenly reach out and stop him with my words. 

“Elio, come here… please.” 

‘What are you doing?! You said you wanted to be good! This is NOT being good!’ 

Silently he walks to me with his head down, slight pout on his red lips and all I can think about at that moment is wanting to kiss him. To taste his lips with mine, and admire the effort he has so strategically put together in order to I don’t know… get my attention. Well, you have it Elio you have my full attention now what? What is it that you want from me?

I look at him then at the “shirt” running my fingers over the straps first, they are softer than they look, that is surprising and I give an experimental tug on them. 

“What the fuck even is this? Cuz, this is the weirdest shirt I’ve ever seen!” There is a smile in my voice and Elio shrugs his shoulders at me, the pout isn’t there anymore but is replaced with slight mirth, and I know he is trying his best not to laugh. 

“How should I know, it was a gift from one of my parent’s friends and his husband, who are coming over for dinner tonight. I don’t know what the fuck they were thinking sending this to me, I can’t even put whatever this thing is on right.”

Against my better intentions I decide that we should inspect this so called “shirt” a little further and Elio blinks at me, hands down at his sides, he does this awkward sway and the air has turned and changed between us. 

“Let’s see if we can’t figure this thing out together.”  

“Yes, please,” he replies biting his lip. It comes out in a nervous almost breathless nature and I can tell he wants me to touch him. This is why he wanted me up here after all isn’t it? To show me what he was going to wear or was it just a false pretence for something else. 

I gently tug on the straps and pull his slender frame towards me, so that he is close standing between my legs, his stomach fully exposed to me, his chest slightly covered by the top of the shirt oh hell, lets just call it what it looks like alright? It looks like a damn bib? Yes. I will settle for that than calling it a shirt, most shirts that I have seen have backs on them. This thing… doesn’t and the skin that I have longed to touch is staring me in the face right now.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Go shut the door please.” I instruct and I watch Elio do as he is told, shutting the door and locking it. He makes his way back over to me and again I grab the straps hanging down his front and pull him towards me again. 

“Okay turn around for me.”  He turns slowly so that his back is facing me and I see the whole bib is sequenced into some wild pattern. Without even thinking I reach out and let my hand run it slowly and I see Elio visibly shutter, now whether that is because of me or the temperature of the room I don’t know. 

“Well…” he trails off in an annoyed sigh. “Hurry up! They could be here any minute and I don’t want to have my father come back up here and scold me again!” 

“Do you want my help or not Elio cuz if not-”  he interrupts me then as he turns to face me again, his hand shooting out to touch my left shoulder, his eyes focused on mine, the nervous energy he holds comes out, as he tries to back petal his attitude towards me.

“No! I mean… uh, yes, I do want your help.” He looks away from me staring at something more interesting to his left side, picking out a book possibly to look at other than my face. “I’m sorry, I just don’t see why I have to impress those people who have known me since birth Oliver. It seems I don't know… redundant don’t you think?” 

I chuckle leaning forward. I purposefully press my lips into his belly and close my eyes briefly when I hear Elio’s soft gasp, and his long fingers playing with my hair. I know I shouldn’t be doing this but I can’t help myself, his skin is so soft looking and I want to help him relax so why not? 

‘There goes my will for being good’

“Whaa… Oliver, What are you doing?!” He laughs when I nuzzle him and he pulls me closer, trying to steady himself as I let my hands roam over his sides, over his ticklish spots and back down. 

“Helping you relax.” are the only words that leave my mouth and I smirk of course I am doing what I always do with him teasing, in hopes of lightening his mood. “You worry too much, you know that. They probably aren’t even going to notice your shirt. It doesn’t even look stupid so… take it off and let me put it on you the right way.”

So far all we have done was constantly flirt with each other on occasion. From the day I sat with him in the hallway and massaged his feet, to the playful banter back and forth in the pool. It all has led to this moment right here, and all I can think about is wanting to touch and kiss every inch of  his skin. He is all I have dreamed about, the consequences be damned. It is his fault, he ignited the flame first, and now I have no control well, at least not when he is sliding his hand through the collar of my shirt, his fingers brushing over my collar bones. 

I slowly stand up to full height and he takes a step back, lifting his arms up over his head, off the bib goes exposing his beautiful pale skin. I smile down at him and he looks up at me with such innocence,that I don’t know what to do with myself. 

‘Focus on the task at hand Oliver!’  

My mind chides me while my heart is in my throat. I turn the contraption around and slowly slip it over his head and he slips his arms through the holes. Then he slowly turns around so that I can help him with the straps, I pull them, tight but not tight enough to hurt him and tie them off, my knuckles gently and soothingly brushing against his skin. 

He turns to face me and without preamble I take his face into my hands, my thumbs sweeping across his pale cheeks, my eyes soften. “It looks lovely on you, Elio.” and then I press my lips to his, closing my eyes, I breath him in briefly as his body slowly melts into mine, my fingers curl around the back of his neck gently. 

The kiss isn’t demanding; it's just brief too brief as I pull away at the honk of a horn and Elio’s father calling him from outside. 

“See you at midnight. Later!”  I say enthusiastically with a wink, leaving him standing there in his room, with his eyes closed and a smile on his kiss swollen lips. 

(sorry for any mistakes I typed this out rather quickly)

[toukatan]

stop simping and roasting and thirsting guys!! you’re all impure *splashes blog with holy water* can we have some wholesomeness? some innocence? some purity? can we talk about how cute the snk cast are as kids and babies? because chonky round boi jeanbo has my whole heart and i wanna be his mom

we’re all thirsty— it is what it is, thristy or angsty there is no in between but maybe fluff and soft things took that spot. drown us with that holy water anonie bean do it!

JEAN’S SUCH A PRECIOUS BABY BOY LOOK AT THE WAY HE SITS AT THE TABLE WAITING FOR HIW FOOD, LOOK AT THAT FACE 🥺🥺

AND HIS BIB LIKE BABY BOY BABY AND THOSE SQUISHY CHEEKS AND BIG OL’ SMILE HECK

HE REALLY DO BE THIS CUTE FOR WHAT? LOOK AT HIM

[reyescarlos]

can i be him || a tarlos fic

chapter 4/4 word count 6.5k || read on ao3

…I know he don't deserve you If you were mine, I'd never let anyone hurt you, no, no I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips It's all that I've been thinking about

Carlos tells himself he can get through this dinner, this one night in company with TK and Alex again. He’s been making good on his promise to himself these last few days, doing his utmost best not to dwell on his feelings for TK and focus primarily on work to keep him busy. It’s a new week, a clean slate and Carlos is adamant about hitting the reset button and leaving all the negativity of the prior week behind.

Once he arrives at the restaurant for the celebration dinner,  Carlos gives TK’s name to the hostess who informs him that his party is already waiting for him. She grabs a menu from the podium and escorts Carlos to the table.

He spots TK first, his breath catching at the sight of his best friend greeting him with a warm smile, eyes capturing the candlelight from the table. It makes his heart swell for a moment but it quickly passes the second Alex turns in his seat. Carlos offers up a wave as he makes his way over, TK already pulling out the seat beside him for Carlos to sit down.

“Carlos,” Alex greets with a stiff nod of his head as he sits. Carlos responds in kind, mirroring the gesture before picking up the menu in front of him.

“Were you guys waiting long?” Carlos asks TK.

“Oh no, we just got here a few minutes early and they were ready for us, you’re fine.”

Carlos looks over the menu, making up his mind just as their waiter comes to the table and takes their orders.

For all his trepidation going into this dinner, Carlos feels himself relaxing a bit more as the three of them fall into easy conversation. Since their outing at the café, Carlos had vowed to himself to be a bit warmer towards Alex. It’s proving itself to be a work in progress but like with everything else he’s been trying to curb as of late, he’s giving it a fair shot.

Their food arrives and conversation tapers off as they begin to dine, the table filled with the clinking of utensils on plates.

There’s a faint buzzing sound that draws Carlos’ attention a few minutes later. Alex sticks a hand into the inside of his blazer, eyes fixed on his phone screen once he’s retrieved it.

“Pardon me,” Alex says, pushing back his chair and rising from his seat, already putting his phone to his ear by the time he walks past TK.

Carlos looks to his friend and sees TK’s brows furrow for the faintest of seconds before it passes. Something feels off to Carlos but he tries not to dwell on it. He focuses on his meal, chatting with TK about the busy day he’s had at work. He’s in the middle of talking about his last call of the evening when his fork slips from his hand, leaving a noticeable stain on his shirt where his food splashes.

“Should I ask the waiter for a bib?” TK teases, handing him a napkin.

“Jerk.” Carlos tries to clear it away but he only seems to make it worse. “I’ll be right back.”

Carlos excuses himself from the table, giving TK’s shoulder a light squeeze before he goes. He hates himself for seeking out that bit of contact but it was practically a reflex.

He crosses the restaurant and heads to the back alcove where the bathrooms are located, stopping short of the opening when he hears Alex’s voice.

“I know, baby. I miss you, too but I’ve got to go.” Alex pauses and laughs warmly, affectionately Carlos would argue. “Yes, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Of course, uh huh. I love you, too, babe.”

Carlos’ eyes widen. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions but this seems like a pretty open and shut case, especially with the way Alex startles when he walks out and sees him.

Alex tries to play it off, placing a friendly pat on Carlos’ arm but Carlos isn’t keen on playing along, jerking his body back.

Alex frowns, his jaw clenching as he holds up his phone.

“Just had a chat with my sister,” he says, rattling the phone in his hand before pocketing it.

Carlos lifts a brow. “You call your sister baby? There are laws against that sort of thing, you know.”

This comment wipes the friendly smile off Alex’s face, the charade dropped entirely.

“How the hell could you do this to TK?” Carlos snaps.

By nature he isn’t the most argumentative person but on rare occasions, when a situation calls for it, his soft demeanor flips, most notably when it’s in defense of someone he cares about.

“I’m not doing anything. Look, I don’t know what you think you heard but this has nothing to do with TK—“

“Please don’t bullshit me right now, Alex,” Carlos cuts in, his voice as cold and hard as steel. “You had better tell him and quick or else I will. TK is amazing and if you’re too blind or stupid to see that, the least you can do is not go behind his back. Have the decency to tell him.”

Alex stares at him, his jaw clenched but Carlos doesn’t back down or waver. He hasn’t been this angry in so long and it’s only because they’re in a restaurant and TK is a few feet away that he puts a lid on his anger to keep it from boiling over completely.

“I bet you’re just loving this,” Alex quips, crossing his arms over his chest. “Counting down the time until you can finally make something of your crush on TK.”

Carlos isn’t expecting this and he knows his face betrays it because Alex huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes.

“The only person who can’t tell you’re in love with TK is TK.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s my best friend.”

“Right, because you’ve been in the friend zone for...how many years now?”

The words cut deep but Carlos refuses to let Alex get the best of him at this moment.

“Tell him or I swear to God I will,” he stresses again. “Be glad I’m even giving you a warning.”

He stares Alex down for a moment before brushing past him and going into the restroom, taking a breath. His hands are trembling as he stands in front of the mirror. He turns on the faucet and lets the cold water run for a bit before cupping his hands beneath the stream and burying his face in his palms. He does this a few times until he can only focus on the chill seeping through his pores, the cold taking place of the heat on his face.

Carlos looks at himself. His expression is moody and he knows that TK will be able to tell something is wrong but he also knows he has to get back to the table. He’s already been gone so long. He tries to focus on getting the stain out his shirt but he doesn’t actually care about that. He takes a few seconds to pull himself together.

It’s not like him to lose his cool and he’s upset he allowed Alex of all people to get under his skin but it couldn’t be helped though. The man knew how to work his way there expertly, cutting into Carlos with the truth he’s been trying to grapple with for almost half his life.

He was hopelessly in love with TK and the world knew it. He would give anything for it to be the inverse and for TK to not only know how he felt but to feel it back.

Reluctantly, Carlos looks away and goes back into the dining area of the restaurant, rejoining the table. Alex is chattering away and just the sound of his voice puts Carlos’ teeth on edge.

TK glances at him and smiles, his brows soon knitting together as he takes in Carlos completely.

“You alright there?” he asks, cutting across whatever anecdote Alex was in the middle of.

TK searches his face, those beautiful eyes clouded with concern.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

TK touches his elbow lightly and Carlos swears he can feel the warmth of his fingertips burrowing through his skin to the core of him. Too soon TK pulls his hand away, leaving Carlos feeling devoid of something he can’t quite name just then.

It’s torture sitting across from Alex now as he continues on with conversation as if nothing is wrong. Lying and being deceitful are such abstract concepts for Carlos. He wonders at how long Alex has been seeing this other guy and how he’s been able to look TK in the face every day and carry on as if he doesn’t have a whole different life running parallel to this one.

Carlos is quiet all throughout the rest of the meal, finishing his dinner and suffering a bit longer through dessert. He counts it as a mercy when the check arrives.

Alex whips out his wallet first, tossing his card on the table. He reaches for the receipt, signing off on it.

TK tries to protest but Alex waves him off, flashing a smile that makes Carlos feel sick to his stomach.

“My treat, seriously,” Alex insists, closing the receipt case back. “It’s the least I could do.”

His eyes meet Carlos’ who just stares back at him. If the man is expecting praise or a word of thanks, he sure as hell won’t be getting it from Carlos. Covering the bill isn’t going to earn him points or redeem him in any way. Their waiter returns and slips the case off the table, breaking Carlos' attention away.

“That was really sweet of you, babe. Thank you,” TK says and it takes every ounce of Carlos’ reserve not to scream that he shouldn’t be thanking Alex for anything, that he shouldn’t be impressed by anything the man has ever said or done.

Once the waiter returns with Alex’s card, Carlos is on his feet.

TK looks at him curiously but Alex either has the good sense or the cowardice not to look at him just then.

“I’ve got an early morning,” he says to TK. It isn’t a lie but the real truth is that he can’t stand to stay around Alex a moment longer.

“Right, totally. It is getting pretty late anyway.”

All three men exit the restaurant and Carlos is grateful for the fresh air, for the chance to breathe in something clean and allow the chilled night to temper his mood.

“We’re parked this way,” TK says, his thumb jutting behind him.

“I’m the other way.” Carlos looks intently at TK, feeling a tightness in his chest, an odd mix of joy and pain. TK always makes him happy but this newfound secret he’s keeping from TK hurts him.

“It was good seeing you tonight,” he says. If nothing else, at least he got to see his best friend. It just gnaws at him, having this hidden truth between them. He’s completely blocked out Alex who is standing a few feet away, a useful skill that proves itself extremely valuable on the heels of all he’s learned about the man tonight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” TK searches his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek gently.

It’s so affectionate, so caring but Carlos knows that’s simply how TK always is with him. It doesn’t mean anything, at least not in the ways he’s been hoping for since they were fifteen.

“I just need to get some rest. It’s been a long day,” he replies, placing a cupped hand over TK’s wrist.

Carlos figures it’s little gestures like this that make Michelle so adamant that they act like a couple already. He tries to see themselves through the eyes of a passerby. He supposes that’s the assumption they’d make. He’d give the world for it to be a correct assessment.

TK frowns, clearly not impressed or satisfied with this answer. Carlos supposes his friend can sense or see a weariness in his eyes because he doesn’t push the topic further. Instead he lowers his hand and wraps his arms around Carlos.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate in returning the hug, his hands coming to rest on the expanse of TK’s back. He wants to confess, to spill the horrible secret that’s already starting to spread like a cancer inside him. How Alex has been able to hide the truth for so long, Carlos will never know. He’s only known for an hour and it’s killing him already.

“Call me if you need to talk, alright?” TK offers as they break apart.

Carlos just nods, unsure of what to say. He knows he won’t be picking up the phone tonight. He isn’t in the mood to talk and even if he was, he isn’t sure what would come pouring out of him. For as much as he wants TK to be brought up to speed on what’s happening, he feels the words need to come from Alex.

It’s daunting to put faith into the idea that Alex will do the right thing when he’s more than proven how distrustful he is. But Carlos will give him the benefit of the doubt for right now. He figures he can be generous and give Alex a full day. Anything beyond that and he’ll take matters into his own hands.

TK says goodnight to him, turning back to walk alongside Alex to the man’s car. Carlos stays rooted to his spot for a moment watching them go. Alex glances over his shoulder and even from a distance Carlos is certain the other man can feel the full brunt of his glare.

Alex is on borrowed time. The clock is ticking and from the guilty expression on his face, Carlos can tell Alex knows that.

~*~*~

From the moment he woke up, Carlos has felt as if he’s been in a fog. He’d barely managed to sleep last night, his mind constantly replaying the events of his disastrous dinner. At the center of his thoughts has been TK. Carlos’ heart breaks all over again at the thought of his best friend.

It was a wonder that Carlos managed to get through his shift today. Each time his phone chimed or buzzed, he practically jumped out of his skin thinking it was an incoming call or text from TK. But the entire day was spent with radio silence on TK’s end, leaving Carlos with a sense of dread that Alex had chickened out.

He’s only been home for an hour now when there’s a hurried double knock against the door followed by two rings of the doorbell. Whoever is on the other side is clearly persistent in getting his attention. Carlos leaves from his bedroom and heads towards the front of his home.

“I’m coming,” he calls out, approaching the door warily.

“It’s me,” comes TK’s voice and Carlos rushes to let him in.

For all his haste to get Carlos to open up, TK stands frozen in place. His eyes are rimmed a deep pink, his cheeks flushed. Carlos knew Alex’s confession would blindside and hurt TK but this sight breaks Carlos.

“Come here,” he says, holding open his arms.

Numbly, TK slips into his embrace. Carlos closes the door with his foot as TK sighs heavily against his shoulder.

“He cheated on me. I’ve been so stupid,” he mumbles.

Carlos closes his eyes and gently cards through TK’s hair.

“It wasn’t stupid to believe your boyfriend would be faithful to you. That’s the bare minimum.”

“You had my back,” TK notes unexpectedly, pulling back. “Alex said you let him have it.”

Carlos flexes his jaw muscle, still bothered by his conversation with Alex last night. He wasn't expecting Alex to make any mention of Carlos finding him out but he supposes this little tidbit was something important to note. At least it explained the mood Carlos was in throughout the evening.

“Of course I did. And I wanted to tell you immediately, I really did. I just—he needed to own up to it.”

Carlos didn’t want Alex to feel as if he had an out. His dishonesty and betrayal was something that Carlos was thoroughly disgusted by. He needed Alex to be the one to confess, though, he’d been serious in his threat outside the bathroom. Even if it meant ultimately doing Alex’s dirty work for him, had this gone beyond a day, Carlos would have intervened. He would hope that if he were ever in a situation like this, someone would do the right thing on his behalf.

Carlos leads them to the living room, the pair sitting beside each other on the couch. TK’s elbows are propped on his knees, a restless hand raking through his hair quickly. There’s a nervous energy coming off of him that Carlos is trying to figure out how to navigate. It feels different than TK’s usual bouts of anxiety. There’s a nervousness to TK that Carlos can’t pin down.

TK nods and wipes at his face. “I agree with that. I’m not upset with you or anything. I just feel so...I don’t know. I trusted him. I should’ve seen it.”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. Don’t go blaming yourself for someone else’s mistakes. You’re more than he ever deserved.”

Carlos still can’t believe that someone would squander an opportunity like this. He would have given anything to be with TK, to shower him with love and affection. Yet when Alex had this chance, he ruined it and ran off to be with someone else. It just didn’t make sense to him.

TK smiles faintly, as if trying to absorb what Carlos is saying to him. “It’s just as well,” TK mumbles. “I haven’t exactly been fair to him this whole time either.”

Carlos isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean. TK spent almost all of his time with Alex. He was constantly talking about him; a model boyfriend.

“Are you going to be okay?” Carlos asks, placing a hand on TK’s shoulder.

TK stays hunched over and for the life of him, Carlos cannot fully decipher his expression. There’s the obvious hurt and shock that comes from finding out his boyfriend had been cheating on him. There’s also some kind of pensiveness that Carlos doesn’t know what to make of.

“Seriously, TK, are you alright?”

TK stares straight ahead for a moment, seemingly collecting himself and pulling away from his thoughts before he speaks again.

“The crazy thing is, I don’t really think I’m that upset,” he says slowly, still piecing his thoughts together. “I mean, yeah, it sucks and I didn’t see it coming but I should’ve known it wasn’t going to work with him. I tried really hard to make it work and it just didn’t. It couldn’t.”

Carlos stares at TK, attempting to gauge where his mind is now. He’s got a distant look on his face and part of Carlos wonders how much of this TK is even trying to share with him or if he just so happens to be a fellow passenger on his train of thought.

“I always knew he and I weren't meant to be,” TK continues softly.

He runs a hand through his hair again. Carlos remains in place beside him, holding his breath, almost too afraid to say anything and unsure of what he could even possibly offer now. He decides it’s best just to let TK control the reins for a little while, to let him steer this conversation.

“Alex said something to me that I can’t shake.” TK turns to look fully at him and Carlos lowers his hand, letting it fall from TK’s shoulder to his own lap. TK looks so serious that it’s making him feel anxious.

“Carlos, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me when you answer.”

This is setting Carlos on edge. He tries to think of what Alex could’ve said to make TK quite this grave. His heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. Alex wouldn’t have shared his secret, would he? Carlos reasons that Alex very well could have, that he most likely did. After all, he had the motive. Their confrontation hadn’t been an agreeable one but still, Carlos couldn’t believe that Alex would be spiteful enough to blab. All the same, Carlos decides to play it cool until he knows with absolute certainty that TK’s ex took it upon himself to expose Carlos’ true feelings about his best friend.

TK blinks twice and sighs bracingly. “Carlos, do you love me?”

The question is so blunt that Carlos jerks back as if he’s been struck. He can barely breathe. There’s a knot in his chest that seems to have crept in out of nowhere.

“Of course, I do. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

TK gives him a meaningful look. Carlos sighs wearily and purses his lips.

“TK, we don’t have to get into this right now, okay? You’ve got a lot going on with everything and this doesn’t matter anyway so we can drop it.”

It’s not a confession but it’s hardly a denial either and from the look on TK’s face, it’s confirmation enough of the truth.

“It does matter. You could have...I should have…,” he sighs and shakes his head. “We could've figured this out.”

It’s this statement that needles at Carlos. He couldn’t have just come out with it, despite how badly he’s wanted to every day since they met sophomore year. Carlos had toyed with the notion more times than he could ever keep track of but the fear was always there and it never seemed appropriate. Either one or both of them was seeing someone else or was just fresh off a breakup. It always felt off and Carlos wanted them to have a fighting chance, if he was ever bold enough to speak up.

“When? Our timing has never been right and if it hasn’t happened for us by now, clearly it never will and I’m…I’m okay with that. I love what we have now enough to be okay with it.”

TK eyes him with such hurt. Carlos feels like throwing up.

“You can’t break your own heart, least of all for me. It’s not fair to you,” TK says softly.

Carlos looks away, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe Alex told you this.” Even with Alex out of his life for good now, the man still managed to give Carlos the worst kind of parting gift, making sure he still lingered for a short while. A horrible aftertaste.

“He just said he thinks there’s been something going on between us and that I should talk to you about it. And I knew he was right about that.”

“Right, well, we spoke. It’s handled and we can move on,” Carlos says, standing up and beginning to pace.

“Hang on, Carlos, please.” It’s the pleading tone that roots Carlos to the ground, making him freeze in place. “I’m getting this whole thing wrong,” he sighs.

Carlos keeps his back to TK, fearing the expression his best friend must be wearing now. He isn’t sure what he hopes for at this point but he doesn’t feel strong enough to handle even the possibility that there’s pity in TK’s eyes. He already feels foolish enough as it is. Anything more just might send him to his breaking point.

Carlos can hear TK coming closer to him and he exhales slowly through his mouth to steel himself for whatever’s coming next. It’s only when he feels his best friend’s hand on his arm that he reluctantly turns to face him.

“Did you honestly think I could never love you back?” TK asks, his voice low and measured. “Did you really think, in all the years that we’ve known each other, that I never saw you in that way?”

Carlos thinks back to the countless little moments between them: shared glances that perhaps lasted a moment too long, TK seeking his hand out casually, small, seemingly innocuous touches that felt like lifelines to Carlos. The subtlety to it all. These questions being posed now make Carlos feel so hopeful but that’s a dangerous emotion to have, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

“Sometimes I would hope but I didn’t think I had a real reason to.”

Perhaps this isn’t the right thing to say. TK’s face falls and he swallows thickly, removing his hand from Carlos’ arm. Carlos can feel his heart sink down even lower somehow. He’s quick to keep speaking.

“You were always nice to me but I couldn’t tell if there was more to it or if you were just being your usual self. You make everyone feel loved and special. It’s your superpower and one of the best things about you. But the way you’d talk about guys you liked, it was different from how you’d talk about me.”

“Because it is different with you, Carlos. Since day one it’s been different.”

Carlos’ head tilts to the side, almost as if trying to see past conversations differently.

“You’ve always mattered more than anyone to me and you always will. I just—you’ve seen me at my lowest points. I never knew how to say any of this to you. You know things about me that I’ll probably never be able to share with anyone in the world. You know all my messy secrets. Because of that I didn’t think you’d ever—“ TK cuts himself off and draws in a steadying breath before continuing.

“You know all the reasons why I’m probably not a good choice so I’ve been trying so hard all these years to distract myself, to try and get over you, to get you out my head and heart that way. But you’re in here, Carlos. No matter how many guys I see, there’s nowhere I can go to hide from this and I’m so sick of running from it. Of running from you and all that we could be. I’m done with that. I’m not running anymore. These last few days…,” he trails off, shaking his head. Carlos holds his breath, his heart racing as TK continues.

“If I said or did the wrong thing to scare you off? God, I don’t know what I would do then. Nothing scares me more than the thought of ruining us. I can’t afford to lose you. I just can’t.”

A few tears roll down TK’s cheeks and Carlos’ first instinct is to wipe them away. He follows through, tentatively cupping TK’s face and brushing his thumbs gently over his skin. TK’s eyes flutter closed as his hand lightly grips Carlos’ left wrist. When TK’s eyes open, Carlos is right there staring into them. He can feel something pass between them, a weight being lifted.

It hurts him to think TK has been living with this fear all along, harboring this notion that Carlos couldn’t feel anything deeper than friendship for him because of his past obstacles. At times it was easy to forget how insecure TK could feel in private when he was such a natural at keeping up appearances. All of those hardships had never once been a deterrent for Carlos. He’d always admired TK’s strength and resilience. If anything, it made him fall that much harder for him.

“You've been through a lot, yes. But it never made me think less of you somehow. I’m always in awe of you. You could never lose me, TK. I care about you too much to ever let go.”

TK wraps his arms around Carlos and Carlos hugs him back, cradling his body to his frame. TK’s eyes close as his forehead comes to rest against Carlos’.

“What you were saying before?” Carlos asks, unable to shake his curiosity over what TK stopped himself from saying. “What about these last few days?”

TK shudders against him and sighs.

“They lit a fire. Out on the trail...when you mentioned having a date. That was when it really hit me that we could seriously lose our chance. It just—it made it all real to me and it scared me so much, Los. That’s the real reason I acted like that, not because I didn’t think you made for a good catch but because I knew all the ways you did. And there it was that some other guy was seeing it too. You felt so far away, like we were slipping from each other, and it was my own damn fault because I was too scared to tell you how much I’ve wanted you all this time. But I also wanted you to be happy because it’s what you deserve more than anything. I just...I just wished I could’ve been him. I wished I could have been brave enough to make a move.”

Carlos can barely piece together a coherent thought. He blinks, trying his best to let TK’s admissions sink in fully. He could easily recall TK’s initial response during their hike, the surprise on his face. In the moment, Carlos had taken it as a slight but now he could see just how wrong he was. TK was merely feeling the same level of fear he experienced each time his best friend got together with someone new.

“And I wanted to be in Alex’s place,” Carlos counters. “It felt weird putting myself out there and then when it didn’t pan out, it felt like a sign to focus on myself, you know? Figure some things out. And you guys were getting so serious, I really thought this could've been it for you.”

TK shakes his head. “It was always doomed, believe me. I think I just got good at hiding after all this time. I came so close so many times to telling you but I didn’t know how.”

Carlos cups TK’s chin, his thumb brushing along his jaw. TK’s lips part, in surprise, in invitation, maybe both.

“I want this so badly,” Carlos confesses softly. It just pours so freely from him but there’s no need now to be guarded about the way he feels. His heart has already been laid bare.

TK peers at him and Carlos notes how much more relaxed TK looks and feels now in comparison to when he first arrived. This is all Carlos could ever want for the both of them, to continue being a source of comfort for each other as they venture into new territory.

Carlos brushes his nose lightly against TK’s, basking in their closeness, in this newfound intimacy. TK hums softly at the feel, his eyes shutting briefly before opening back up again, meeting with Carlos’. It’s terrifying how everything he’s always wanted is quite literally in his hands. It’s almost too much for Carlos to make sense of at this moment. He smiles at TK and kisses his cheek, lingering there. TK groans before laughing quietly.

“You’re a few inches away from where I was hoping—“

Carlos doesn’t give him the chance to finish the thought, silencing him with a feather light kiss to test the waters. TK’s hand runs up Carlos’ chest and shoulders, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. It’s all the assurance Carlos needs to kiss him again, this time with more emphasis. His hands anchor against TK’s hips, pressing their bodies together as his mouth gets familiar with TK’s.

This comes naturally to them, just as Carlos had always suspected it would. TK’s nails drag lightly against his neck and Carlos can’t stop the moan that claws its way out of his chest. Of course TK would uncover one of his weaknesses this easily, this early on.

Carlos deepens the kiss, his curious hands roaming further along TK’s frame, nails clawing gently. His lips learn the shape of TK’s mouth with ease, savoring every bit of this man that he loves so fully. It’s enough to make his head spin but Carlos knows he can’t get too carried away. There’s still a lot TK has to work through post-breakup and Carlos doesn’t want to encroach on that, even if kissing TK is better than he had ever imagined.

He pulls away and TK groans again, unabashedly voicing his opposition to stopping their kiss.

“I thought you’d want to take things slow considering Alex and everything,” Carlos notes, pecking TK’s lips once more.

TK playfully narrows his eyes. “That’s very considerate of you but I’ve been waiting to kiss you since we were fifteen so if that isn’t slow, I don’t know what is.”

Carlos stares at him in stunned silence, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” TK prompts, slipping his hand into Carlos’ and entwining their fingers.

“Nothing, it’s just...it’s crazy to think you’ve been feeling this way too since we were kids. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

TK gives his hand a light squeeze before bringing it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss against the back.

“Well, it’s true. You’re the greatest guy I know. I always had a good feeling about you, about us.”

Carlos laughs to himself, remembering the first time they spoke, how he’d been so nervous that he could barely get a word out at first. But TK seemed convinced they would get along well, right from the start. His foresight had been spot on.

“You definitely called it.”

“I spoke it into existence. I knew I wanted to know you. To this day, it’s the best decision I’ve made since moving here all those years ago.”

Carlos looks down at their hands. It’s something they’ve done plenty of times over the years but now he’s seeing it through a new set of eyes, a new meaning behind the gesture.

“I really do love you, TK,” Carlos says seriously, looking up at him then.

Getting the words out is liberating and daunting but it needs to be said plainly, explicitly. He’s gone so many years with the feeling consuming him. It hasn’t been a burden but Carlos already feels lighter with it off his chest.

TK’s face breaks out into the warmest smile. It touches his eyes and makes them shine in a way Carlos has never seen before in all the years he’s known him, a light shining from the inside out. It reminds Carlos of an evening star. TK’s always been the brightest in his universe.

“I love you, too,” he replies breathlessly. “It feels so good to finally say it out loud.”

Carlos traces TK’s bottom lip with the tip of his index finger. TK’s mouth parts, his green eyes flashing with want. Carlos spares them both, leaning in and kissing TK hungrily. This kiss is deeper and far less guarded than their last, Carlos no longer shy about where he touches TK. They stumble backwards onto the couch, Carlos seated as TK straddles his waist, never breaking the kiss. His hips roll over Carlos’, the gesture making Carlos practically breathless. He feels drunk off this moment, somehow managing to live both inside and out of himself. To have everything he’s wanted for eleven years suddenly all at once is making him feel a bit delirious. To know that all those years of wishing, of warring with himself and Michelle’s advice are now over is, in a word, surreal. If she could see them now.

Carlos laughs to himself against TK lips, a low hum of a sound as he smiles, his mouth still pushing back against TK’s.

“I’m giving you my best moves here, Reyes.”

“And believe me, it’s all quality stuff,” Carlos muses, pulling back to look at him. “I’m just thinking about Michelle.”

“Okay, now I’m really starting to get offended,” TK jokingly reprimands.

“Don’t worry, babe. You’re always front of mind.” He punctuates this assurance with a soft kiss at TK’s temple.

The pet name falls so casually from Carlos' lips that he doesn’t even realize he’s said it until he sees TK preen at the nickname, burying his flushed face against the side of Carlos’ neck. Carlos fights off the urge to shiver when he feels TK’s breath on his skin but he can feel goosebumps rise regardless.

“She’s going to have a field day with this. She’s been saying forever that you loved me back.”

“My dad too,” TK mumbles, pressing a kiss against Carlos’ pulse point before shifting to look at him. “He’s been trying to convince me for years now but I just couldn’t allow myself to go there, you know?”

Carlos nods in understanding. That’s been the story of his life since he was fifteen. TK takes a hold of his hand, tracing along his palm absentmindedly. Carlos just watches him in silence for a time, enjoying the comfortable weight of TK on top of him, of the man being this openly affectionate with him. It’s beyond what he has been imagining over the years.

“All this time wasted,” TK laments after a few moments, his expression troubled.

Carlos rubs at TK’s sides, shaking his head. “I don’t think of it that way. Not at all. We’ve just been laying down some serious groundwork and now we get to cash in on it. We’re golden going forward.”

Like any good home, love needed a strong foundation. As far as Carlos was concerned, they’d merely been giving themselves something stable to build a life on.

A slow smile spreads across TK as he seemingly allows Carlos’s words to sink in.

“I like the way you think. It’s just one of the many, many things I love about you.”

Carlos takes TK’s face in his hand, studying it as if he hasn’t spent the last eleven years committing it all to memory. He takes in his bright eyes, that playful, knowing smirk. All of this is his now in the same way he belongs entirely to TK. Now he’s able to just openly stare, to admire. It’s as if he needs confirmation that this is in fact real. This is truly happening.

TK stares back at him, his expression a mirror image of Carlos’. In his eyes Carlos can see nothing but love, adoration, and also hope. Predicting the future isn’t something anyone can truly do but Carlos feels safe in believing that this new road they’re traveling will lead to good things.

TK cups his face as well and leans in to kiss him once more. Carlos allows himself to surrender to the moment, to free his mind and focus solely on the feel of TK’s lips on his, their chests pressed tightly together. He can feel TK’s love for him as steady and sure as a heartbeat.

Carlos takes comfort in the knowledge that they have this moment, the memories of all the ones before it, and all those that are still yet to come.

[valancyjane]

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Jake...”

’Draco drags the upholstered Edwardian camelback sofa (decorated in muted yellows, blues, and greens) into position, attempting to minimize the screech of its wooden feet on the polished floorboards as he muscles it into the optimum spot. Stepping back, he critically judges its final setting, covertly blotting his clammy hands on the thighs of his tan corduroy trousers. The workingman’s suspenders hang loose by his sides; Draco straightens the collarless bib neck of his cream cotton broadcloth shirt, and rolls up his sleeves to his elbows. The quick glimpse of his loathsome Dark Mark barely dents his ebullient mood.

He chances a glance at the wooden room divider; Hermione’s clothing is carefully folded over the middle panel, her lilac dress contrasting with the deep purple woven silk that covers three quarters of the screen.

She must be putting the finishing touches to her hair. Fussing at the small worktable and plain wooden chair he’d earlier arranged opposite the borrowed couch, Draco sits in the chair, opening his canvas pencil kit to sharpen the tools of his trade yet again. He crosses one leg over his knee and balances his open sketchpad atop it.

A soft “ahem” alerts him to Hermione’s presence. Looking up, Draco nearly slices off his thumb with the pencil knife as he takes full stock of her appearance.

Hermione is an utter vision… from the crown of her russet head to the tips of the little pink toes that peek out beneath the long hem of her gauzy black robe. She twirls the gold-tasselled end of the matching sash with flair, winking at him for good measure as Draco drinks in his fantasy made flesh.

Moving toward the camelback couch, she makes a production of inspecting the tableau he has arranged, noting the standing lamps that flank the furniture, and the way Draco has dimmed the overhead lights to create a mellow ambience.

“Don’t artists need good light?” she challenges, with a delicious tip of her pert nose.

“Zat is true, but I am not used to working in such ‘orrible conditions,” Draco answers in an exaggerated French accent, somehow dragging his hot silver eyes away from her gloriously semi-revealed curves and angles, as he remembers his line.

Stepping closer, Hermione’s free hand delicately parts the collar of the negligee, exposing the glittering bevelled emerald and diamond heart-shaped pendant.

“Jake, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls… wearing this,” she caresses the necklace.

“Alright,” Draco readily accedes.

“…and only this,” she concludes, as he gazes at her in unfeigned captivation. “The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll.”

Smirking, Hermione strolls to stand in front of him, holding out a bronze Knut to drop in his palm.

“As a paying customer – I expect to get what I want.” Backing up two paces, Hermione keeps her cocoa eyes focused on his as she languidly curls her fingers around the peignoir’s narrow lapels and lets it slither off her nude body to pool at her bare feet.

Don’t ogle – you are a professional artist. You’ve drawn plenty of naked models before, Draco sternly reminds himself, as his breathing and pulse quicken instantaneously. Be cool.

“Over on the bed– um, the couch,” he gulps, motioning jerkily at the camelback sofa. Hermione’s low chuckle at his Freudian slip does little to calm his skyrocketing libido. He wriggles in his chair and stiffens his spine as she obeys his instruction, perching on the edge of the seat.

“Come – lie down,” Draco guides, trying to keep his attention centred on her beautiful face.

Laying her head against the padded side of the couch, Hermione is at a loss as to what to do with her hands; she flails them around her head a few times, looking uncertain. Her left arm settles on the high camelback, only to slide off as she shifts uncomfortably.

“Can you– tell me when it looks right– ”

“Yeah – keep that pose – put your arm back where it was,” Draco interrupts, as Hermione dutifully complies.

“Put that other arm up… and there, your hand right by your face, there,” Draco relaxes his drawn brows as Hermione curls her fingers. He starts to shuck his rampant nerves as his training takes over.

“Right… now, head down, eyes to me –” he forks two fingers at his own orbs – “keep them on me.” Unnecessarily rotating his sketch pad, Draco takes a brief moment to clinically assess Hermione’s pose.

‘Clinically’… hah. I am hard-pressed to not leap from my chair and fall upon her like a hungry wolf. Sweet Circe… her high, plump breasts… her sweetly-flared hips… the pure line of her legs… the triangle of chestnut curls at the apex of her shapely thighs– her eyes, her splendid eyes–

“Try to– stay still,” Draco falters, entranced by the unconsciously seductive way Hermione licks her lips and clears her throat. Her shining mocha gaze returns to his face as he warns himself to regain his famed self-control.

Puffing out a calming exhale, Draco eases his death grip on his pencil and studies his beautiful witch one more time; he knows that he will carry this image of his beloved Hermione in his head and heart until he draws his last breath.

A few practice strokes above the thick paper; he chooses to begin with the lateral projection of her hip and torso, allowing his professional training to take over. Cocking his head to the right, he ignores the scattered strands of platinum hair that fall across his forehead, flicking his intense regard back to Hermione’s exquisitely naked body every few moments.

“So serious,” Hermione twits, pouting her pretty lips in a wonderfully distracting manner; Draco half-smiles at her naughty antics as he sketches in the outline of her furled hand and head, his hair flopping down once more. He quickly moves to draw her comely face and luxuriant hair; her slender arms; then the scintillating verdant pendant, his confidence growing with each assured stroke.

Her breasts, next: Draco takes great care to perfectly replicate the rounded swells, using his fingertips to blend the pencil marks as he contours the underside of each sublime globe.

Of course, Hermione notices his bitten lip, tucked-in mouth, and creeping flush.

She gently teases, “I believe you are blushing, Mr Big Artiste… I can’t imagine Mr Monet blushing?”.

Draco retorts, “He does landscapes… Just relax your face–’

“Sorry,” she licks her lips again and exhales, easing back into the pose.

“No laughing,” he rebukes, as Hermione’s mirth briefly bubbles aloud. He continues to shade in her breasts and navel, moving back to the texture of her hair and face as she looks at him with undisguised tenderness… and effervescent, profound love.

Love. Hermione loves me. She loves me. Draco must put aside his rapture when his trembling fingers threaten to derail the entire proceedings.

Concentrate. He assiduously disregards his thumping heartbeat and heated blood, determined to capture every last, divine detail of the magnificent woman lying but a few feet away. His fingers seem to move of their own accord as he soaks her in on an entirely different level of consciousness. Draco senses her magic softly seeking out his own as the air around them crackles; he welcomes her sorcerous ingress.

The only sound in the room is their erratic respiration, and the faint scratch of Draco’s pencil as it glides across the paper. He is aware that Hermione has yet to take her brilliant eyes from him, as he awkwardly adjusts his posture. The thrumming of his manhood is clamouring to be noticed and actioned; Draco is aching to toss his sketch pad aside and join his Hermione on the old-fashioned couch.

Finally, his left hand stills its busy detailing and blending. Draco checks his work, quietly thrilled at the likeness he has produced. The drawing has unerringly captured Hermione’s beauty and grace, but what Draco is most proud of is the expression in her stunning eyes… intelligence, happiness, desire… and unequivocable love. The physical proof of her deep affection staring at him from the pad on his lap fills Draco with boundless euphoria; and an overwhelming need to show his wondrous woman exactly how much he treasures her...’

Full chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994118/chapters/66407713

[modestfuckup]

Challenge Week- Get Beached 2020

Date Night

Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2806

Fat!Stiles, Super Chub!Derek, Date night at the local buffet, 

Stiles pulls their truck up to Howdy Hal’s Buffet. Hal’s is a local place that’s been in business for the past thirty years. They have a great selection of food, and on Wednesdays, they have an all-you-can-eat night for the low price of $10 each. Stiles and Derek haven’t been able to eat anywhere for $10 each in a very, very long time. 

The truck is thrown into park, and Stiles shuts off the ignition and pulls out the key. Derek sits in the passenger seat, too large himself to even consider driving. They both throw their doors open, and Stiles falls out of the cab with little grace. When he does he can feel the truck’s frame being relieved from his weight, but immediately dipping with Derek’s on the other side. 

From his side, Derek wiggles. He manages to get his right leg out from the confined space under the dashboard and his belly to start reaching for the ground. Stiles makes his way to the otherside of the truck. Derek gets his foot on the running board, and uses that to leverage his other leg out. His massive belly jiggles and flops as he twists in his seat, using the frame of the door as a handle. Another leg appears, and he reaches down to the asphalt below. Stiles observes, and offers a bit of encouragement when he can. 

Both of Derek’s feet hit the ground and the truck almost bounces back up when all of Derek’s bulk is out of the cab. Derek takes a couple of small steps, adjusting his shirt to cover his massive belly as best he can, and slams the truck’s door behind him. 

Read on AO3

They’re parked as close to the door as possible. Derek takes small, slow steps, working each step like it’s a personal everest of his. Stiles scoops up his hand, and Derek doesn’t let go. 

It was 10 years ago that Derek confessed his love for Stiles. It was nearly 9 years ago when Derek admitted that he wanted to start gaining weight. It was 8 and a half years ago when Stiles decided he also wanted to gain weight. 

Derek’s bulk was in his belly. It was wide and round. It extends far out in front of him and sits heavily on top of his pants. His arms are massive too, and so are his legs, but his belly is where all the weight goes. Lately, Stiles has noticed his underbelly getting bigger too, and he can’t wait for the day Derek’s fupa hangs low by his knees like his stomach already does. Three months ago, Derek weighed 589 pounds. Stiles is so pleased.

Stiles’ weight is more evenly distributed, but settles in his lower half. He’s smaller than Derek, by quite a bit at this point, but he’s grown happy with his body and doesn’t really mind their side difference. He’s squishy all over, none of his fat really hardening like Derek’s does. Even when he’s stuffed, his belly is still soft and pliable in his fingers. His upper arms are thick and stretch out any shirt or hoodie he tries to wear. They look like hams. His face is soft too. While Derek’s double and triple chins hide behind a beard, Stiles keeps his face clean shaven proving that there are multiple chins down there. His thighs rub together, and they’re so thick that he walks with a wide stride that leaves him waddling from one leg to another. Three months ago, Stiles weighed 342 pounds. Derek couldn’t keep his hands to himself as the digital read out on their scale announced the number.

Derek’s steps are laborious. They don’t walk a lot given heir total combined bulk of being fat as fuck, but their montly trip to Hal’s was always a moment they really enjoyed. They don’t get out of the house much, and even as Derek keeps growing, it gets harder and harder. Stiles idly wonders how much Derek has gained since the last time he was weighed, or even last month’s date night. 

The doors to Hal’s are motion sensing and slide open when they detect Stiles and Derek’s imminent entrance. However, it takes them a few more moments than it would take anyone else and the doors close again, then open again. The doors open and close three times before Stiles and Derek get inside. 

“Ah! My favorite customers!” Hal says from his place behind the cash register. “We were wondering if you two were coming this month.” 

“Oh course we’d come,” Derek pants, moving his thick arm to dig out his wallet from his pocket. It’s not easy, and requires some manuvering around fat, but he gets it. “Two please.” 

Hal immediately escorts them to a nearby table, one very close to the buffet lineup. The chairs at Hal’s have been reinforced. Mostly because on night a few years back Derek broke the chair he was sitting on. The table they’re given is big enough to seat about six people. Derek plots onto two chairs on one side, while Stiles manages to feel comfortable enough on one chair tonight on the other. 

Hal takes Derek’s card and rings them up for the night, and brings the check over for Derek to sign. Normally, Hal doesn’t do table service, because it’s a buffet, but he’s always made special accommodations for Stiles and Derek. 

A cute little server girl comes out from the kitchen. She’s wearing an apron and under normal conditions her job is to clean up after guests leave, tonight though, her job also includes bring food for Stiles and Derek. 

“Hi Anne,” Stiles says, peering over to the rows and rows of food. 

“Hi Stiles. Hi Derek,” Anne is familiar with the couple. Derek puts in his order, and reminds her to pack the plate high because. Stiles decides he wants to walk around and see what’s up there himself. 

Derek watches as Stiles waddles to the pile of places and immediately starts spooning food onto the plate, soon grabbing another one. Anne comes back with two plates for Derek, filled with the food he asked for and a few moments later, Stiles returns with plates of his own. Anne brings them drinks and silverware before leaving them to clean a table that recently freed up near them. 

They eat. Stiles gets up once he finishes the food on his plates to get more. Derek calls on Anne to bring him more. Stiles enjoys a steak or two while Derek can’t get enough of the spaghetti. Mashed potatoes with gravy, mac and cheese, pizza, corndogs, chicken fried steak, hamburgers, and so much more move through their plates. Stiles brings Derek a plate every now and then, encouraging him to try to fish or the chicken or this or that. Derek inhales it all. 

It takes a while, but Derek starts getting full and he’s pleased when he lets out a burp that startles a couple nearby. Stiles can’t imagine what they must look like to them. A couple of huge dudes who can’t even stop eating for a moment to talk to one another outside of small encouragements and compliments about having barbecue sauce on their chin. Derek takes up two chairs for fuck’s sake. They must look ridiculous. But Stiles doesn’t care. He continues to munch on his crab legs. 

Stiles starts getting full and concedes that it is time for dessert. He makes his way to the dessert station and brings back cakes and cookies and ice cream and so much more. He also brings back another plate for Derek even though he sees Anne working up another couple of plates for him already. 

Derek keeps eating and Stiles begins to slow down, feeling the pressure of his fully belly against the edge of the table, but he also loves dessert the best. While Stiles could easily eat an entire meal made of only sweets, Derek loved the savory. There is a plate piled with fries that Derek grabs every now and then. Stiles sneaks a couple from the pile to dip in his ice cream. 

“Do you think they’ll make me a milkshake if I ask?” Stiles ponders sucking on the straw of his soda. 

“Hmm probably,” Derek responds, mouth full of food. The front of his shirt is littered with small spots of food having dropped while he was eating. Stiles wonders if it is finally time to invest in some bibs for him. 

When Anne comes back, Stiles asks and she leaves to the kitchen to see what she can do. Derek starts to lean back in his chair, which signals to Stiles that he’s reaching the end of the meal himself. 

“Do you want dessert? I’m going to go get more,” Stiles starts the process of standing up, it’s always a little more work when you’re full. Derek nods while bringing another forkful of food. 

Stiles packs a couple plates full of desserts, and brings another plate of fries for him and Derek to share. When he gets back Anne is bringing out a sizable milkshake. Stiles plots back into his seat, putting the plates of dessert on the table as Anne takes some plates away. Stiles needs to remember to leave her a very large tip. Stiles sips the milkshake, watching Derek concentrate as he keeps bringing his fork from the plate to his mouth. 

At this point, Stiles knows, it’s not about eating for Derek, it’s about being stuffed. He won’t stop eating until he feels he cannot eat another bite. Stiles knows his limit, and he’ll stop when he is pleasantly full, but Derek has gained nearly 500 pounds in 9 years for a reason. 

Around them, people leave. Normal people don’t spend more than an hour here. Derek and Stiles can, and have, spend the whole evening here. 

Once Derek really starts to slow down, the conversation between them flows. They live together and while Derek works from home, Stiles doesn’t. They talk about work, and other things. They were hoping to go see a movie soon, but the seats were an issue for them now. (Buying 4 seats for two people starts to get a bit ridiculous.) 

Stiles continues to sip at his milkshake, it’s very good. Every now and then he dips a fry into it and eats it up. The sweet and salty mix on his tongue in a satisfying way. Derek finishes all the food they have at the table, so Stiles goes and dutifully gets him another plate. Derek keeps eating. 

Stiles announces that he’s talked to his dad. They hadn’t seen each other since John married Melissa and they ran off to Mexico together a few years back. They invite Stiles and Derek down often enough, but Stiles knows they can’t really travel much anymore. Derek announces a potential promotion for him. It’s in the very early stages, but he isn’t sure he’s super interested because it may require an in person interview. 

They’re lifestyle is a little extreme for some people’s taste. Stiles knows he’s had to defend his lifestyle to Scott many times. The excuse of wanting them to be healthy always being a main argument on Scott’s part. 

Derek starts really slowing down, instead of brining his fork up every few seconds for another bit, he takes maybe a minute to bring his hand up again. The amount on the fork getting smaller and smaller. Stiles definitely brought him too much dessert on purpose. 

“Come on babe, you can finish all that. It’s not that much,” Stiles offers his encouragement. Derek seems determined, and he takes another bite. 

Stiles keeps talking, as Derek begins to concentrate hard on the last little bit of food on the plate. 

“Just a little bit more Der,” Stiles takes the last few sips of his milkshake, and he can feel it go down his throat and join the rest of the food in his belly. He idly rubs circles into the flesh that meet the side of the table.  “You’re doing soo good.” 

Derek fills his fork with the last little bit of pudding and cake from his plate. He takes the final bite, chews for a moment, then swallows. To demonstrate how done he is, he rolls his head back and uses his legs to push himself up a little bit. Stiles can see his hand trying to make it’s way to the bottom of his belly, where his sweatpants are probably cutting into him uncomfortably. Derek stopped wearing jeans years ago, but Stiles does miss the harsh red lines that came after keeping his big belly confined for so long. 

Stiles continues talking, he knows Derek is listening. 

“‘M so full,” Derek announces,” which is good because that was kind of the point of coming to dinner. 

“Well, Hall won’t kick us out,” Stiles says. He finished his milkshake, and now that he’s let his food settle for a few minutes he considers going and getting another plate of food, or maybe dessert. They’re not going to go anywhere for awhile. Derek is too full to move. 

Derek can feel his stomach weighing him down, holding him, forcing him, down to the chairs he is sitting on. He kind of wishes he and Stiles were back home, so Stiles could rub circles into his over inflated belly and massage the softer rolls hidden by his sweats. He rests his eyes, enjoying the full sensation that comes with over eating, over stuffing himself.

Stiles gives in and goes back up for another plate. Derek hears Stiles stand, and looks after him to watch his body sway back and forth as his legs try to make big steps but are confined to taking small wide ones. Stiles still insists on wearing flannel overshirts, which disguise--albeit not very well-the rolls of fat that are on his back. The t-shirts underneath, Derek knows, cling to them tightly and put them on display for everyone to see. The flannel shirts cover it up and Derek mourns over the absence of them. His jeans are tight, because Stiles still insists on wearing jeans, even if it’s only once and a while. His ass crack peeks out the top of the jeans, just enough that when he walks a certain way Derek can see it between the tops of his pants and the bottom of his flannel.  The jeans are sinfully tight, showcasing the rolls that have developed on Stiles’ thighs. 

Derek watches, enamored by Stiles. 

As Stiles returns with his full plate, Derek sees tug his shirt down in front of him, like it’s riding up repeatedly. Derek wonders if Stiles can feel his belly showing. 

“Shirts getting a bit small?” Derek asks, lifting his head as Stiles makes his way back to the table and sits down with a big sigh. 

“Yeah, think so,” Stiles admits. He has another plate full of desserts, he starts eating, Derek feels automatically compelled to eat something but his gut is so full in front of him that he can’t move to swipe something from Stiles’ plate. 

The couple continues to talk while Derek digests enough to stand and Stiles finishes his last plate of food. Hal comes over a couple of times and makes sure they’re both doing okay, as well as Anne. Stiles slips a couple twenties on the table when Derek finally musters up enough strength to stand. 

They’re always seated at a table with chairs, after the time Derek got wedged so tightly into a booth they had to remove the table top so he could get out. Stiles stands, which allows Derek to push the table away from him, and then use it to help him stand. They walk to the exit, Hal and Anne following them to make sure they both get out and to their car okay. 

The truck is right where they left it. Stiles helps Derek climb into it, the poor truck leaning and groaning under the weight of Derek. Stiles closes the door, knowing Derek is inside holding some of himself to allow the door to close at all. He makes his way to the driver’s seat, and gets himself up there, again the truck doesn’t seem happy with the new added weight. 

Before they drive off, they sit in the truck for a moment, Stiles adjusting himself to he can make sure he’s as comfortable as he can be in the tight space. 

Stiles reaches a hand over to roam Derek’s big, hard belly. It always amazing him, how much Derek can eat. “Happy anniversary,” Stiles says. 

“Happy anniversary,” Derek responds, the two lean together, Derek pushes against the side of the truck to get him all the way to meet Stiles’ lips. To another ten years. 

[cecilspeaks]

Live Show: A Spy in the Desert

1. A Spy in the Desert

Cecil: A tisket, a tasket. My god, what’s in that basket?! Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, it’s another beautiful day here in Night Vale, and I hope that you’re all outside staring wild-eyed into the sun, instead of cooped up in some dark room full of a bunch of people that you don’t know. The only thing that could ruin such a beautiful day as this is, well, this breaking news.

We have an outsider in our midst. A spy from a faraway land, a master of disguise who can mix imperceptibly into any crowd. Now this spy has been known throughout the world as the Sparrow Hawk, the Nightingale, the Southern Blue-Eyed Glossy Starling, and the Tough-Tit Titmouse. But recently, the spy started going by the code name the Mink. Which is much better, because minks are adorable and birds are idiots. Now the Mink has stolen secrets from the world’s most powerful governments, but unlikely most spies, the Mink works independent of any agency. They steal confidential information, but they never reveal any of that information to anyone. They are the perfect keeper of stolen knowledge. Now the Mink does possess an unparalleled range of regional and national accents, as well as a fanny pack full of fake mustaches, eyeliner and press-on nails. Right in the fanny pack. The founders of Night Vale built this town upon secrets, with a Byzanthine system of powerful and opaque city leadership, and what are we as a town without those secrets? It would make sense, then, that the City Council and the Sheriff’s Secret Police would want to stop The Mink from learning our secrets. So if you see anyone that you do not know, do not approach them. Because they could be a dangerous spy. Simply carry on as normal, as you would, and treat them like you would any stranger. Which is to stand 20 feet away, point and shout: “INTERLOPEER!!!” And thus by behaving in this completely normal way, they will not think that they’ve been spotted. And then immediately go and call the Secret Police. Make sure that you have registered for a citizen’s protection account with plans starting as low as 25 dollars a month, otherwise the police will not assist. And then once you’ve registered your account, tell the police that you saw a person you do not know. In public! And that person, thus logically could be The Mink! And they’ll catch them and we can all move on to the next terrifying news story.

2. Sports news

But first, a look at sports. Last night witnesses reported seeing a padded man carrying an inflated lump of animal skin across an open, well lit field. They could not identify him, as his face and head were fully covered by a round plastic hat. Several other unidentified men were chasing this man, panting and sweating, and hundreds of witnesses on this side of the field all began shaking their fists in the air and chanting: “Crush! Him! Crush! Him! Crush! Him!” [audience chants] And then witnesses on this side of the field were shaking their fists and shaking “Vio-lence! Vio-lence!” [audience chants] And their screams reached a crescendo, and then they stopped and they watched as this man spiked the lump of animal flesh and began to inch along a pinkish trail of viscous ooze. And the very back rows began a soft chant of “What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?” and it made its way forward, row by row, until the whole auditorium was chanting: “What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?” And the skin split open revealing a white skeletal face with two bulbous red eyes, and the face craned up on a long neck, and it hissed and it bared its fangs and snapped into the neck of the man who had spiked it tore off a long swab of fleshhhhhh. And a woman wearing all black and white stripes took this flesh and blew into it like a balloon, and handed it to another padded man, and the process started all over again. And everyone in the crowd shouted: “Mortality!” [audience shouts it] And this has been sports. Hmm.

3. A Word from our Sponsors

And now a word from our sponsors. For that, we go to our lovably malicious spokeshaze, Deb the sentient patch of haze!

Deb: Hiya Cecil. Hiya listening audience with your squishy human minds. So easy to manipulate! Cute, so cute. Today’s show has been brought to you by Folgers brand coffee. We at Folgers believe good coffee comes from good hammers.

Cecil: Oo, that’s so true! You know, a lot of people don’t realize that good coffee is 90 percent the quality of the hammer that you use to smash up the bean, and ten percent how much you’re willing to lie to yourself that a 20-dollar bag of coffee tastes different than a 10-dollar bag of coffee.

Deb: That’s why we at Folgers hammer our coffee extra smooth, using only American made sledgehammers. We follow the hammer traditions of the finest coffee houses. From Sicilian espresso shops where they use wooden mallets, to the great institutions of Vienna, where the ornate tile walls ring with the echoes of handcrafted silver (ball-pin) [0:01:13] wielded by tuxedo-wearing waiters.

Cecil: You know, on my vacation I went to an espresso shop in Italy, and the woman behind the counter, lovingly crushed each and every ben with just the tiniest wooden mallet. And then she lit a whole pack o matches, threw it into the cup, and that is called a macchiato.

Deb: Macchiato. I’m unconvinced Italy even exists. For instance, have I ever seen it? No, there you go.

Cecil: Uh.

Deb: Yeah.

Cecil: But Deb, let me tell you, the flavor profile of that macchiato, it was – oh, it just had hints of sulfur and splinters, it was so authentic!

Deb: Gross.

Cecil: Yeah, it was kind of gross.

Deb: Why buy your own beans and pound away them in your kitchen, when Folgers has already hammered them for you? Folgers coffee. You guys wanna go see a dead body?

Cecil: Thanks, Deb. Oh hey, have you been following this news story about The Mink?

Deb: Oh, a little. It doesn’t interest me much because I already know every secret in town.

Cecil: Wait, what?

Deb: Yeah, yeah.

Cecil: How?

Deb: Oh, how doesn’t sound important, no no no. what’s important, listeners, is that I know.  [pause, laughter] So please do buy the products that I’m advertising. I’d hate to have a teensy slip of the tongue next time I’m broadcasting to the whole town, Joanne. Hey Cecil, you wanna know Joanne’s secrets?

Cecil: I mean it seems a little private – yeah, I do. [pause, Deb whispers into Cecil’s ear]  [sultry voice] Joanne!! I am simultaneously disgusted and impressed.

Deb: And that’s just one of the secrets I know. Well, it has been great talking at you Cecil. Goodbye!

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb! Whooo! Wow.

4. Who is the Mink?

The Secret Police are hot on the trail of the Mink. In the hall of public records, they found a set of footprints left by a size 9 Adidas, but those shoes do not match any of the hall clerks, as the hall of record employees only have hooves. The police also found a person wearing a cloak and carrying a dagger inside the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. But upon investigating, it just turned out to be Steve Carlsberg. He was holding a lobster splitter and he got his lobster bib twisted around backwards. Oh, Steve. The City Council has upgraded our alert system from orange level to red. “Um, it’s really more of a lovely amaranth?” The multi-voiced council cooed in unison. “Um, excuse me, if the Mink never reveals any of the secrets that they learn, then what is the harm in them knowing?” asked one intrepid reporter. A brave and experienced radio man, who is quite smart and very handsome. But the City Council just hissed back: “All knowledge is harmful!” So I can’t argue with that. Now the Mink has carried out heists of secrets all over the globe. West Berlin 1985, the Mink disguised themself as a security guard and learned every account number in Deutsche Bank. German police noticed a person in a security guard uniform quietly mumbling numbers to themself, and they did give chase but lost the culprit in the crowd when they donned one of those glasses with a fake nose and eyebrows.

Kuala Lumpur, 1998. The Mink disguised themself as one of the Petronas towers and learned the secrets of every person inside. Witnesses reported seeing one of the towers just leeeaning over ever so slightly, as if listening in on a conversation. But when the national police arrived, the tower leapt into the Klang River and witnesses said: “Ooh, look at that kinda long but otherwise completely normal looking boat!”

2011, the Mink staged a daring escape from a military base in Nulogorsk. After discovering the intruder, the Nulogorskian got very excited, because they had never before met anyone with only two eyes. The Mink did get away, however, by disguising themself as a pirogi. [long pause] Having been eaten, they escaped two days later through the city sewer system. Weren’t expecting that, were you? You know, I hope we apprehend the Mink soon. I really, man, need to talk to somebody who has other secrets, it’s a journalist’s dream interview. And I mean, everybody has secrets so, I mean we all have something that we probably wouldn’t want the Mink to share on the air, I mean I know I do. You know what, “I value privacy above all else,” I have just now written on my Facebook page, so you know it’s super important to me.

5. Lee Marvin

Cecil: Oh wait, listeners, OK, I’ve just been given a note saying we have a very special birthday today. Wow, OK, this is a real honor. Listeners, please welcome to the studio, on the day of their 30th birthday, legendary actor and Night Vale resident, Lee Marvin!

Lee: It is a pleasure to be here. I don’t think we have ever met, even though it seems like we have both lived in this town forever.

Cecil: It actually does feel like forever, doesn’t it?

Lee: As we all know, time doesn’t work correctly in Night Vale. For instance, it has been my 30th birthday continuously for many years, and yet I never grow any older.

Cecil: I know just what you mean, I mean I was 19 for a long time like, decades probably.

Lee: And that’s the problem with millennials, you know?

Cecil: Yeah.

Lee: Instead of buying houses or shouting at barns, or researching owls, or any other number of normal and productive activities, they just age.

Cecil: Ugh!

Lee: Normally one day after the next. Why, I think there is not a millennial in this world who even tried to remain 19 for a terrifying number of years.

Cecil: I know! It’s lazy. Now let’s talk about the Mink. Mr. Marvin, as a very famous movie actor, I felt that you might be able to offer some analysis on someone so adept at disguises and false personas.

Lee: Well, sure sure I mean after all, what is acting but lying to a room full of strangers?

Cecil: Mm. Literally nothing at all.

Lee: When lying to a group of strangers, there are definitely some basic techniques to watch out for. One is speaking aloud. Anyone speaking aloud could be lying. Why, almost anything could be said out loud without research or citation .for instance, I could say aloud that uh, mountains are real…

Cecil: Oh come on! [Cecil and Lee laugh]

Lee: And it doesn’t matter that this is a ridiculous statement perpetuated by the mountain enthusiasts. It is still something I could and di say out loud. Another technique to look out for is accents. It seems that this Mink is able to deploy at will any accent at all. I myself am an expert at dialect and accents.

Cecil: Ooh! Would you care to give us a demonstration?

Lee: Well sure sure. Uh, start with something, a basic accent. This is an accent for someone from the country of Svitz. You’ll noticed that the Svitzians sort of speak from the back of the throat, it’s uh something like this um, [very deep, monotonous voice] “Hello, yes, thank you. I would like some cake.” Like that. Cecil: Yeah, oh yeah.

Lee: And um, here’s another one um, this is an accent for someone from the nation of Franchia. The Franchians have an interesting thing where they an, uh, a diphthong on every single vowel. Here goes, um. Yaa-aa, soo-am ceek, thyat would bee a boath low-ly and filing. Something like that, yeah.

Cecil: Oh wow, yeah, yeah!

Lee: And here is the ccent of someone who lived until the age of ten in  Svitz, before immigrating to Franchia. And now, at the age of 50, is learning to speak English.

Cecil: Right, OK, OK.

Lee: [deep voice] Aah piece of cay-ek for me, you’re only too kind. Something like that.

Cecil: Oh that’s, that’s amazing!

Lee: Yeah. Uh, seriously though, do you have any cake, I’m starving?

Cecil: Oh. Oh actually no I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to hae cake at the radio station because it makes  Station Mangement very restless.

Lee: That’s fine, that’s fine. Well the final technique I wanted to talk about is, is disguise, I am to understand that the Mink is able to easily adopt the look of anyone they wish to. Here’s a couple of ways of disguising yourself. One is through, of course the use of masks, make up, prosthetics, it’s very difficult, technical, very Hollywood. Let’s talk about the other method though, which is simpler and just as effective.

Cecil: Oh, wait, what is that one?  

Lee: It’s OK so you simply… so you take your hand.

Cecil: uh huh.

Lee: And you put it in front of your face. And then you say aloud who you’re supposed to be disguised as.

Cecil: Ah

Lee: For instance, I’ll demonstrate. Hello, I am Tom Hanks!

Cecil: Oh my god, oh my god! Oh my god Mr Tom Hanks, I-I loved you in Turner and Hooch, and whatever else you did after that, I..

Lee: No see, it’s just me, Lee Marvin!

Cecil: Oh man!

Lee: But with my hand in front of my face… Life is very similar to a bag of chocolates!

Cecil: Oh my god it is similar to a bag of chocolates!

Lee: There’s no way to tell!

Cecil: Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Mr. Marvin! Thank you so much, we appreciate having you on the show.

Lee: It was no problem at all, thank you for having me, Cecil. Um, we before I go, this is Judy Garland saying goodbye.

Cecil: Oh my god, oh my, oh my gosh, no wait, wait wait, Ms. Garland, Ms. Garland, just one song before you go, Miss Judy Garland!

Lee: [sings] Ring ring ring goes the (--)..

Cecil: Ah! Judy Garland, everyone!

6. Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner

Now it’s time for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. It’s a very special anniversary today, kids. On this day in 1872, the moon was invented. Yeah. You see, scientists had been reading a lot of paperback horror novels about werewolves and thought, wait! If the moon were a thing, then werewolves might also be a thing! So they built a moon out of limestone and hired artist (Marie Kassaut) [0:00:30] to paint it with a giant smiling wolf doing an “okay” sign with its paw and winking. But there was a problem: when they launched it up into the sky, something happened with the catapult, and it landed with the unpainted side facing the Earth. And almost a hundred years later, NASA would claim to have landed on the moon, but twinkly dot scientists or, oh sorry that’s what I call astronomers, they just proved that to be false. And you know, NASA retracted their statement saying: “Oh we were just joshing” and the American people all had a good chuckle. And ever since Alexander Fleming invented the werewolf vaccine – also known as penicillin – the moon is mostly just an ineffectual artefact, like a reminder of our once terrible taste in celestial bodies. And that is why each and every night, we all shout: “I hate you, moon!” up into the sky, and even though we can’t see it, we all think of that wolf on the dark side, quietly winking, and shedding a tear. [weeping] And this has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. It’s true. Science.

7. The Community Calendar Let’s take a look at the community calendar, shall we? Let’s see here, Monday night there is a blood drive in the Ralphs parking lot. There’s gonna be a van parked in the far corner, like just beyond the trees, and if you go inside that van, some blood will be taken from you. “Oh yeah, (she’s) gonna come out of you one way or another, man!” said a rapidly talking man in a dirty T-shirt, who I am not sure is connected to the blood drive at all. “Oh yeah, we’re just gonna do amazing things with your blood, man! Don’t worry about what, [disturbing voice] we’re just gonna do really good things with your blood!” and then he finished up by saying the national blood drive slogan: “Bloooooooooooood!!!” So I guess just, get on into the blood van!

Tuesday was lost last night by Bernadette Flynn, as she was watching the newly released remake of last year’s Spiderman movie. She thinks maybe Tuesday fell behind the seat during the film or something. So if anybody sees Tuesday, please let Bernadette Flynn know, as it was an old family heirloom, and her favorite day of the week.

Wednesday night is 80’s night at Dark Owl Records. For more on that, let’s hear from Dark Owl owner, Michelle Nguyen!

Cecil: Hey, Michelle!

Michelle: Hello, Cecil! On 80’s night, we’ll be putting on leg warmers and fingerless gloves, listening to Duran Duran, and thinking hard about what our lives will be like when we are 80 years old.

Cecil: Ahhh, that sounds like fun!

Michelle: We will consider life insurance plans and talk about several types of diseases that will affect our later years. There will also be a moonwalking demonstration, just like that famous Michael Jackson dance where he walked around shouting: “I hate you moon!”

Cecil: Yeah, yeah. Did you know it’s actually the moon’s birthday today?

Michelle: Stupid rock!

Cecil: Garbage satellite! Anyway, so Michelle, to change the subject, the Mink could peek into our private lives at any moment. Is there something that you are personally worried that they would find?

Michelle: [long pause] No.

Cecil: Oh, come on Michelle, we all have secrets! Is there any music you listen to that you would be ashamed of people knowing about?

Michelle: Please. You’re the one that starts every day with a choreographed lip sync to Robyn’s 2010 B-side “Cry When You Get Older”, and then you cry for a while, because you have gotten older.

Cecil: [sourly] Yeah.

Michelle: Each day just a little bit more and sometimes that makes you happy and other times it makes you sad and either way you feel like crying. Probably.

Cecil: [mumbles] Oh, yeah.

Michelle: That’s probably what you do, certainly I wouldn’t! I wake up listening to Leonard Cohen’s new album: “Wait Where Am I, I Thought I Died and How Is This Even Being Recorded?”

Cecil: [impressed] Oh, yeah.

Michelle: I listen to that album in full and then nod thoughtfully, and drink three cups of black coffee.

Cecil: Mmm.

Michelle: [scoffs] I don’t even know who Robyn is and I would never scream sing along to “Dancing On My Own” whenever I miss my mother.

Cecil: [scoffs] Oh wait, your mother, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her before.

Michelle: I learned everything about music from her. She once found me listening to The Smiths and said, [different accent] “Michelle! What are you doing! Morrissey turned out to be the worst person ever! I give you shelter over your head, three meal a day and access to a working time machine. And you don’t even use it to find out which celebrity turned out to be bad? It’s almost all celebrity, Michelle! Almost all celebrity turned out to be bad!” And she was right about that, Cecil. Can you name a good celebrity?

Cecil: Um, oh there’s Lee Marvin!

Michelle: That’s right, just Robyn.

Cecil: Just Robyn, yeah that’s it.

Michelle: I can’t think of anyone else either. Then my mother would say: “Michelle! I don’t wan the world to be the way that it is, but the world is that way. And people will judge. They will judge you for what you wear and what you listen to and what you say. They will judge you especially hard for so many unfair reason. So that music you listen to, that make you happy? Don’t let go of it. Never show that weakness to the world. In public, you listen to the music that tell them who you are, and you wear the clothes that show them wo you are. Always be one step ahead of them. And then at night, when it’s just you and  you’ve played their game and you’ve won, then you put on a record that makes you happy, and you let yourself sing!” Then one day, my mother took the time machine back to prehistoric times, to try to retrieve some of their music, which would have been the coolest and most obscure sons. But she never returned. I miss her, but I’ll never forget the last thing she told me. She said, “Michelle! I cannot emphasize enough how awful Morrissey turned out to be!”

Cecil: Awwww. Wow. Gosh Michelle, I’m so sorry about your mother, but thank you for sharing that extremely personal story on the air.

Michelle: Uh.. No what no? No, I don’t think I did. We were talking about 80’s night. Come to 80’s night! There will be a Cyndi Lauper lookalike competition, and the winner will take over Cyndi’s life, becoming the fifth person to play that role. See you there! Or not, whatever.

Cecil: Thank you, Michelle!

More on the community calendar. Thursday night is the adopt a pet fair at the Last Bank of Night Vale. There’s gonna all sorts of animals, and they will come home with you. You don’t even have to go to the fair. They already know where your home is. And they’re gonna be waiting for you. When you open your door that night, there’s gonna be panting and snarling and two little blinks of light, right inside your darkened doorway. So wow, that sounds like a really fun and socially important event!

And finally, Friday is Bring Your Issues to Work Day. So really dig deep there, people! Let ‘em loose! And this has been the community calendar.

8. Tamika Flynn

Cecil: So listeners, I’m joined in my studio right now by the most vigilant defender of Night Vale and of literature. Please welcome to the air 16-year-old Tamika Flynn!

Tamika: [giggles] Hi Cecil, hi!

Cecil: Hi Tamika! Now, you must be alarmed that there’s a dangerous spy on the loose.

Tamika: Of course! It’s not safe to have an interloper learning our secrets.

Cecil: But what could they learn that would hurt us?

Tamika: Oh, lots of stuff. What if they start uncovering all the plot twists of our favorite novels, like “Murder on the Orient Express”, Agatha Christie’s brilliant whodunit. What if they read ahead and learned at the murderer turns out to be-

Cecil: Wubububububuh! Spoilers! I mean, some of us haven’t read it yet!

Tamika: Oh I’m just teasing. That book doesn’t even have an ending. It’s the only murder Agatha could never solve.

Cecil: Hmm, hm.

Tamika: But learning secrets can be harmful, like one time, I was waiting in line at midnight for the release of the sixth Harry Potter book, and some jerk drove by and shouted: “Snape and Dumbledore are both featured prominently in the new novel!” [angry noise] Ruined.

Cecil: I’ve never read the sixth book!

Tamika: Oh.

Cecil: I’ve only read the third and the seventh. So now the whole experience is ruined!

Tamika: Well, if it makes you feel any better, I chased that fool down and I punched him until his bruises spelled out: “Don’t mess with a Hufflepuff!” But I do have a plan to catch this spy. I’ll disguise myself as the Mink. And then I’ll walk around town until I find someone that’s dressed exactly like me.

Cecil: Ah.

Tamika: [giggles] And then I’ll grab them and I’ll whisper that famous, oh um and then I’ll grab them and shout at them and say: “You wanna spoil the endings of books, pal? Why don’t you try Stephen King’s ‘It’, that whole ending is terrible!”

Cecil: Oh, come on, I liked the ending of “It”!

Tamika: Really?

Cecil: Yeah, you know when It just turns out to be the friends we made along the way. You and you and you… It’s nice. OK, anyway, Tamika. Now I have a question. How are you going to disguise yourself as the Mink, when nobody knows what the Mink actually looks like?

Tamika: Well I’ll j-, but I c-..

Cecil: I know.

Tamika: Oh.

Cecil: Yeah…

Tamika: Fine. Then, oh I’ll dress up as a manila folder with a “top secret” stamp on it!

Cecil: Oh yeah.

Tamika: And then when someone tries to take me, I’ll grab them and whisper that famous movie speech: “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. I don’t have any money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills.”

Cecil: Ah!

Tamika: “Skills that I’ve acquired through reading! Would you like a list of book recommendations? Here are a few I think you’d enjoy.”

Cecil: Ah, ha ha!

Tamika: Yes!

Cecil: Oh man, that is my favorite scene from “Say Anything”.

Tamika: Yeah! [giggles] When John Cusack holds that boombox above his head outside the terrorist headquarters, I mean [kiss]! [laughs]

Cecil: So good!

Tamika: Yes.

Cecil: Mm mm, now wait. The Mink is a real threat, and they are interested in learning far more than just book spoilers. I mean, you in particular might be in danger, Tamika.

Tamika: [giggles] Cecil, I’m 16 years old. I know everything there is to know about taking care of myself, OK?

Cecil: Oh yeah, OK, alright. Alright. But listen, if you catch the Mink, bring them here to the studio, because I need to have a moment…

Tamika: Wanna rough him up?

Cecil: Oh uuuuh, um..

Tamika: Yeeeah, like I’ll pin him down and then you take this copy of Hanya Yanagihara’s “Little Life” and just like, bam, bam, bam!

Cecil: Oh, oh.

Tamika: Bam!

Cecil: Oh!

Tamika: This book made me cry, now it’s making you cry, sucker!

Cecil: Uh.. Yeah sure, something like that.

Tamika: Yeah. [giggles]

Cecil: Um-

Tamika: Well, I think I’m off to get that Mink!

Cecil: All right, thank you Tamika! Be safe. Tamika Flynn, everyone!

9. Public Service Announcement

And now, a public service announcement. The Night Vale Youth Fitness Initiative recommends at least 60 minutes a day outdoors for children under the age of 18. Being outdoors encourages kids to be more active and social. Fitness Initiative spokesperson, (Jin Housong) said: “Kids spend too much time indoors, and that makes it very difficult for us to monitor their physical agility and speed! We are trying to find children to fight in the Blood Space War, and that is very difficult when all kids wanna do is spend all their time inside Snapchatting and playing Fortnite.” Some outdoor activities encouraged by the Youth Fitness Initiative include cycling, soccer, breath holding, sensory deprovation, G force resistance, and string theory. The staff of the Youth Fitness Initiative welcome any kid wanting to have fun outdoor time to come on down to the Intergalactic Military Base. They can’t tell you where it is, but they are more than happy to send a chaperone in a burlap sack, and a van. And this has been a public service announcement.

10. Telly the Barber

So listeners, several Night Vale residents have sent in reports of seeing strangers sneaking about town, possible sightings of the elusive Mink. And we have one such witness with us in the studio right now. Please welcome – Telly the barber.

Telly: Hi Cecil!

Cecil: [long pause] Have you cut any hair lately,  Telly?

Telly: Oh sure, I’m always-

Cecil: Have you cut any hair that didn’t need cutting, Telly?

Telly: I-I think we all saw the signs..

Cecil: Have you taken any innocent person, any handsome person and perfectly coiffed scientist person’s hair and then just destroyed it so completely that you had to leave town, Telly?

Telly: Not lately.

Cecil: Mm hm.

Telly: Did you wanna hear my story?

Cecil: No.

Telly: OK, I’ll just hum and cut my hair with this butterknife.

Cecil: Oh OK, alright alright alright alright, I’ve changed my mind, I do wanna hear your story.

Telly: OK. So ever since that one bad haircut and please tell Carlos I’m so sorry, see he asked me for a light trim on the sides, and I misheard it as “shave asterisk in my sideburns, then cut me some bangs.”

Cecil: Bangs? Ugh.

Telly: After that, I banished myself to the desert, rehoning my cutting skills on cacti and tarantulas. Did you know that tarantulas are venomous?

Cecil: Yeah, I- I actually knew that. Oh my god, your hand!

Telly: I learned the hard way. But, but it was a great experience, see I finally reopened my barber shop in Night Vale last year, over by the library. Some of the librarians come in from time to time, I-I have to chain their tentacles to the (--) [0:01:45] first, and then I use grooming sheers to trim the hair along their pincers, which is tough because of the foaming slime that gathers there. Did you know that librarian saliva is acidic?

Cecil: Yeah of course, everybody – oh my god, your other hand!

Telly: I’m earning so much

Cecil: Ugh.

Telly: Anyway, earlier this week, an interloper came to my shop. They were wearing a hockey mask and a turtleneck, they had long thick curly black hair and they whispered: ”I need a new look! Can you cut it short and blond?” so I did.

Cecil: That could have been the Mink!

Telly: Why don’t you just tell the story, Cecil?

Cecil: Well no I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No please, go ahead.

Telly: So the next day-

Cecil: Please tell us more about the lives that those scissors have ruined.

Telly: The next day, the same person returned and they were wearing a sleep mask, vampire teeth, and a drum major coat. An excellent disguise, but I know my own work and I recognize their haircut immediately. I said: “Hello, brand new customer whom I have never seen before! What can I do for you?”

And they whispered: “I need a new look. Can you cut it long and straight with a beard like that guy from Queer Eye?”

Cecil: Awww, I love Jonathan Van Ness! Oh hey, did you ever see that episode where they consult that stone obelisk on that uninhabited island?

Telly: Yeah yeah that's the one where Jonathan was like: “We’re gonna make those cliffs glow!”

Cecil: Yeaah!

Telly: And then he uttered an ancient prayer and was granted a bent scepter and control of the weather.

Cecil: And then they just spent the rest of the episode flying around the island, screaming in Latin and zapping Bobby with lightning.

Telly: That was a great episode!

Cecil: So good.

Telly: You know, the part about the cliffs was so empowering .

Cecil: Yeah!

Telly: Anyway, I performed a wild flurry of scissor snips around the stranger’s head, and voila, they have long straight hair and a beard. Every day this week they’ve come to me, they wanted a Pam Greer Afro, a Sid Vicious Mohawk. That famous Friends haircut, the Ross.

Cecil: You know what you should do? Next time they come in, ask them to get like a blow dry or a perm, and then while they’re waiting-

Telly: Uh, well… don’t be mad.

Cecil: Wait, what?

Telly: So they were today and I kinda messed up? I-I don’t think they’ll be back.

Cecil: Oh come on, Telly!

Telly: See they wanted a 90’s fade and I misheard, and I cut my own foot off. See?

Cecil: Oh my god! Telly, you didn’t even put a bandage on it!

Telly: I didn’t wanna be late to your show. Anyway, they looked really annoyed and left before they got any more blood on them.

Cecil: Ugh. Well you know the important thing is that you tried. I mean, you messed up in a really serious way that I did not even think was possible, but… you tried. And also, I’m sorry I yelled at you before.

Telly: Thanks, Cecil. You know, this might be the blood loss talking but that means so much to me.

Cecil: Sure. Hey listen, have you ever thought about a different career maybe?

Telly: Like knife sharpening or gun cleaning, or chainsaw repair?

Cecil: You know what, no no, just stick to the barbering, Telly. Thank you so much.

Telly: Sure thing.

Cecil: Telly the Barber, everyone! Just grind it into the carpet, no one will ever know.

12. Sightings of the Mink

We are getting reports of Mink sightings all over town. Archeology professor Joel Eisenberg saw a stranger outside of Mission Grove Park, and they were dressed all in black and they were holding copy of the Night Vale Daily Journal, just high enough to cover their face. Now, Joel Eisenberg saw this person, and pointed and shouted “Interloper”, and then being a friendly neighbor, went over and said “Hi, I’m Joel, do you like dinosaurs?” And the stranger said yes, but kept their face hidden.

“What’s your favorite dinosaur? Mine’s the ichthyosaur.”

And the stranger said, “Yeah, I guess so, sure.”

And Joel’s face reddened and his voice thickened like wet concrete.

“Ichthyosaurs aren’t dinosaurs! Mink!” [scoffs]

Imposter didn’t even know the difference between a marine lizard and a dinosaur. But they did know how to throw that newspaper in Joel’s face and run.

Jackie Fierro, owner of the local pawn shop, said her half mother Diane Crayton came to the store to ask if Jackie sold cars that fired rockets from behind their headlights and/or turn into boats, and/or had ejector seats. Now, Jackie thought this was a fairly odd request from a single mother with a fairly bland day job. “What do you need all that for, Diane?” asked Jackie.

“It’s for my son, Josh Josh, my son’s name is Josh.”

Now Jackie knew this was not the real Diane. She was nose to nose with the Mink. Jackie started to speak, but there was a quick puff of smoke and the would-be-Diane was gone, and in their place, there was a wad that looked like skin and hair. And Jackie picked it up, and it was a perfect replica of Diane’s face.

Later, at the old shipping port, Tamika Flynn trailed a suspect into a dilapidated warehouse along the waterfront, which has no water, because we live in a desert. Which is a huge reason why they had to shut down the shipping port. Anyway, it was dark inside the abandoned building save for streaks of dusty sunlight through the shaddered windows, and Tamika heard a creaking from a pile of boxes nearby, and she was frightened, unable to move. But wait, she thought. Why, I’m the predator, the Mink is the prey. And then she remembered those famous lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” “I’m here to kick butt and chew bubblegum. Why not both?”

So she threw some chicklets into her mouth and shouted: “You’re trapped, Mink!” and raced toward the sound and a figure emerged from behind a tower of boxes, and they pushed the crates down on Tamika, but she did this like, backflip-kick thing and knocked that interloper right out of the warehouse onto the deck. And as they approached, the Mink pulled out a remote control and a tiny helicopter descended from nowhere and a tiny ladder descended from the tiny helicopter, and the Mink grabbed onto it and flew away.

Man, I thought Tamika really had him that time. I really wanna take a moment to just interview this person, someone who has all these secrets, just for journalistic reasons of course.

It would make the interview of the century.

13. Sheriff Sam

But until that moment, the Sheriff’s Secret Police would like us to know that they have this Mink situation firmly in hand. And in order to show how under control it is, the Sheriff would like to speak to you themself. Listeners, Sheriff Sam!

Sam: Hello Sessil.

Cecil: Cecil.

Sam: Sessil.

Cecil: Cecil.

Sam: Do you know, I really feel like I’m saying it. Sessil.

Cecil: Yeah, it-it sounds good enough, alright.

Sam: Now before I start, I want to apologize to the people of Night Vale for what I’ve done. And let me finish. I disagree that the new seasons of “The Great British Bake Off” are better. And I’m very sad that Mary Berry is no longer there, you know I couldn’t get enough of her famous catch phrase: “I’m unable to feel anything at all. Unless I can see clear layers in a baked good.”

Cecil: Ah, such a good catch phrase!

Sam: And I don’t like that they replaced Mel and Sue with two polar bears, who toy with and eventually eat the last place finisher.

Cecil: Yeah, I think I think it will grow us on, right?

Sam: Yeah but all that being said, I really shouldn’t have done what I did last night. When I raised my voice and said: “Paul Hollywood needs a new wardrobe.” I mean, what’s with those blue jeans, right?  

Cecil: Yeah, yeah.

Sam: And then Paul started crying and wailed: “Why would you say that, powerful desert law enforcer?” And channel 4 immediately cancelled the series.

Cecil: I know, I-I didn’t get to see the technical challenge that episode.

Sam: No. And I-I know it was your favorite show and now it’s gone..

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: So I’m sorry. Television is a two-way street..

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: ..and I should have thought about that.

Cecil: That’s right, they can hear us. So I-I, listen, I accept your apology and besides, it’s actually kind of nice not to have the TV on and to get to spend more time with my husband. Yeah.

Sam: And you know I didn’t even mean what meant, what I said. I didn’t even mean what I meant. [chuckles] I didn’t even mean what I meant when I said that thing about Paul Hollywood. I should look at the script, it would be more useful.

Cecil: That’s…

Sam: [chuckles] I think Paul Hollywood does look good in jeans, I mean he’s stepfather hot.

Cecil: Oh wait, please. He’s more like divorced tax accountant dad hot. That’s, you know. Anyway, let’s change the subject. I wanted to speak to you today about the Mink. Now, they are a master of disguise and this has made it impossible for us to find them. Does the Sheriff’s Secret Police have a plan to determine who the Mink is?

Sam: Well, we’ve consulted with experts, and outside of fringe sciences like parapsychology, divination, genetics…

Cecil: Yeah, right.

Sam: Not really, no. But we do have a new law enforcement tool. It’s called the brainwave transposition ray. [long pause, apparently something visual is going on]

Cecil: OK you’re just doing like spirit fingers.

Sam: Not at all. This is the brainwave transposition ray. Sessil, simply put: you point it at a potential criminal, which is to say anybody at all. And it tells you exactly what they’re currently thinking.

Cecil: Whoa!

Sam: Here, I’ll show you how it works. Now there might be Night Vale citizens on the sidewalk outside the studio, I can try it on.

Cecil: OK.

Sam: Let me move over to the window and… weird.

Cecil: What?

Sam: There’s hundreds of people staring at us right now.

Cecil: I know, they’ve been here the whole time. It’s making me nervous, but you know, it’s fine.

Sam: Yeah, creepy.

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: Well, you see if I point the device right at this person, we should be able to hear their exact thoughts.

Cecil: Mm.

Voice: I like many kinds of animals, but I like sea lions best.

Cecil: Huh.

Sam: I mean doesn’t sound like the Mink…

Cecil: Ah no, no.

Sam: OK, let’s try someone else.

Voice: I forgot to wash the blood off the bath tub, my wife’s gonna kill me. Oh god.

Sam: No, the Mink wouldn’t be married.

Cecil: Yeah, yeah.

Sam: Let’s try…

Voice: Sure hope the Secret Police won’t arrest me for wearing a full disguise and a mask.

Cecil: Whoa! That’s the Mink!

Voice: Cause I’m not wearing a disguise or a mask. I’m just Chris (Brothon) from Night Vale with my usual face and limbs, and my greatest fear is false arrest.

Cecil: Oh. That was very specific.

Sam: Ahem. You know, having a fear of false arrest is highly illegal, so we’ll be by soon to collect you, Chris. Let’s try one more. Do you want to try doing it?

Cecil: Well I oh, I don’t know Sheriff, I mean it’s an amazing device but it does seem rather intrusive. Are you sure it’s safe?

Sam: Yes yes of course come on, try it on me. [loud music, glass shatters]

Cecil: Oh wow. That’s, that’s great. I-I had no idea that that’s what you’re thinking right now.

Sam: Yeah sure, why what do your thoughts sound like?

Cecil: I love my husband. I love my husband. I also agree that sea lions are so cute. So cute! Soo cute!!

Sam: None of that was illegal at all, how disappointing.

Cecil: Yeah I know, I’m sorry. Um, you know but I do hope that you end up arresting Chris later on.

Sam: Well that will cheer me up. Now Sessil, you do help me look on the bright side so thank you and do give me a shout if you find out anything about the Mink.

Cecil: Alright, I will. Thank you, Sheriff Sam!

13. Ascentia Ad

Cecil: And now another word from our sponsors.

[talks very fast] Today’s show is also brought to you by Ascentia. If you’ve ever felt anything at all, there’s Ascentia. Talk to your doctor about Ascentia. Your doctor is a spider, all black eyes and long legs, clinging effortlessly to the wall. Tell your doctor how afraid you are but don’t say anything out loud unless you are (-) [ 0:00:18] paralyzed by your choice of fight or flight. Do not fight your doctor, your doctor is good. They eat a lot of bugs, they’re super helpful. Your doctor is just as afraid of you as you are of them. Do not take Ascentia if you’ve ever seen a dog. Spiritual transcendence is uncommon, but if you find yourself no longer in a physical body, please stop taking Ascentia immediately and contact a medium with a medical training and a Ouija board. Ascentia might cause night (-). Ask your doctor about Canada. Do not take Aponto which is our competitor. Aponto users report high levels of centipedes inside their necks, crawling around right before bed and on first dates. Ascentia is a solar flare, a radioactive magnetic burst that should not be taken with alcohol. Do not breathe for 30 minutes after taking Ascentia.

You’re a person. That’s why there’s…

Ascentia.

14. Deb Returns

Cecil: And now I present to you a major milestone in radio history: the first ever audio only magic shooooow! Yes, yes, yes!

Now listen, I’ve been practicing these tricks perfectly and I have every single one of them down, even the one with the-the doves and the aerial dancers. So, for my first trick, I will take a flamethrower that I have hidden under the… [long pause] OK, listeners, that may have to wait. For some reason, Deb the sentient patch of haze has returned to my studio. What’s up Deb?

Deb: Hello, Cecil! How are you? Oh, doesn’t this place just look a treat? Oh, and all the doves! I love doves! Almost as much as I love horses.

Cecil: Deb, are you OK?

Deb: Cecil, thank you, I’m doing wonderful, how are you? Oh, and isn’t this just the cutest little studio! Is that a safe? Full of secrets? How adorable! I can’t, I won’t, I absolutely will not...

Cecil: You sound a little different or something.

Deb: Well do you know what would make this studio that much more perfect, Cecil? Beautiful crystalline horse figurines. Can’t you just picture them? Oh, all of the sparkly horses! Especially, tsk tsk tsk, on that safe. I bet that safe just has the cutest combination.

Cecil: Oh yeah, it’s super cute, but I don’t see what it has to-

Deb: As a kid, I remember watching the horses drop by my house. Can you believe it, I grew up near a horse farm? “Get inside!” my mother would yell. [shrill voice] “You know you’re allergic!” But how could allergies ever stand up to my love of horses? Say, I bet the inside of that safe is even that much more adorable..

Cecil: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

Deb: Can I ju-

Cecil: Love? Deb isn’t capable of love! Oh my god, you’re the Mink!

Deb: Nooo! No!

Cecil: Yes, the Mink has disguised themself as Deb in order to infiltrate my studio!

Deb: That’s not true.

Cecil: Yeah, certain small tells in their behavior indicated that this is not the real Deb!

Deb: No I’m definitely Bed, I mean Deb, excuse me..

Cecil: No wait wait wait, before you go, I just need to have a moment…

15. The Chase

Cecil: Tamika, this is the Mink! [long pause, suspenseful music] And the Mink has just jumped into a 1987 yellow (-) [0:00:22] and raced off, and Tamika is leaping onto her motorcycle and speeding after, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police, who had our station under surveillance, are joining the chase. The Mink has now turned the wrong way down a one way street and is weaving through oncoming traffic, and Tamika is racing up a loading ramp, jumping her bike from rooftop to rooftop, from rooftop to bus stop, and from bus stop to the street. She’s finally hit the ground and she’s only a few feet away from the Mink’s car and they’re swerving back and forth trying to get her to veer off. Watch out, Tamika!

Breaking news: I have just learned that the Mink and their ever increasing search for secrets has started to delve into forbidden and dangerous knowledge. Six security guards at the top secret facility on Oak Street have gone missing, and the entire place was ransacked. This is all according to a spokesperson from the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency, who looked a lot like my neighbor Madeline, and lives in Madeline’s house but had a sign that says “I’m not Madeline”, so I have no idea where I’m getting any of this information.

Anyway, that spokesperson said that among the classified secrets taken were the truth about who killed JFK, Amelia Earhart’s continued whereabouts, several nuclear codes and what, what, what? That Night Vale resident and actor Lee Marvin died decades ago? But that’s impossible! Like, he’s alive and well, and today is his 30th birthday.

Update on the chase. Tamika has now trapped the Mink’s car at the top of a towering cliff, and the Mink is fleeing on foot, and overhead helicopters of every kind circle, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police secret police cars roar by on a nearby road, and dark clouds are gathering, and there is lightning and thunder and listen, I know it does rain sometimes in the desert but it was, like, sunny 15 seconds ago but this is a really compelling picture that I’m painting for all of you. And the wind is whipping back Tamika’s hair as she sprints after the Mink, who is rearranging their disguise even as they flee, but finally they hit a dead end. It’s a sheer drop on both sides. “There’s no way left to go, Mink!” Tamika shouts into the gusts of wind, and the Mink smiles at her ever so sadly and then – steps backward off the cliff. Now Tamika, not willing to let her (quarry) go so easily – jumps after. Let me get some information on this, this has all gone terribly wrong. But in the meantime,

Let’s check in

On the weather.

16. The Weather

[“Company Man” by Dane Terry, https://daneterry.bandcamp.com/]

17. Where is the Mink

Listeners, I do hope you found that weather report was edifying. I’ve been trying to get any word that I can on Tamika or the Mink, but they both have vanished. The helicopters lost track of them as they fell through the long curtain of rain, and so no one can say what happened next but – that fall was quite long.

This is all my fault. I knew it was dangerous, but I was blind to the dangers that I was asking Tamika to perform, because I wanted to speak with the Mink so badly. And now I fear – we have lost her.

I have never wanted to say these words but.. to the family of Tamika Flynn, I will never forget myself for what I have done, I will never be able to-

Tamika: No, I’m alive! I’m not dead!

Cecil: Tamika, oh Tamika!

Tamika: Hi hi hey hey hey, hey hey hey, I’m down here, no worries.

Cecil: What happened?!

Tamika: Oh, I-I caught the Mink.

Cecil: What?

Tamika: Yeah! They’re right hear.

Cecil: [gasps] [long pause]

Tamika: Yeah, I-I found them.

Cecil: That’s amazing, I’m so impressed!

Tamika: [chuckles] Bam, one Mink caught, I am very good at this.

Cecil: Yeah! No wait, are you positive that’s the Mink though?

Tamika: Yes. Well, I got some intel on their latest disguise, and they’re wearing sunglasses.

Cecil: Uh huh.

Tamika: You can put them over (--)  [0:01:33]. They’re wearing a hat.

Cecil: OK, yeah.

Tamika: It’s clean.

Cecil: Yeah, yeah, clean hat. Clean hat Mink, that’s what they call him.

Tamika: And they’re wearing a name tag that says: “Hello, I’m the Mink!”

Cecil: Aaaa, yes, that is some brilliant deduction!

Tamika: I am very smart.

Cecil: Yeah, well done but Tamika, bring them into my studio for just one second before the Secret Police get here, OK?

Tamika: Alright, we’re on our way!

Cecil: Alright, thank you Tamika! Oh, that’s such a relief! Whoa. (But!)  You know, it just goes to show that reckless decision making and snap decisions always pay off. And I’m so glad that I turned out to be 100 percent right about this whole situation. Versus how 100 percent wrong about this whole situation I was just a few months ago.

But you know, listen, I’ve gotta confess something to you all, and I hate to do this because I hold myself to high standards both morally and journalistically, but – I lied to you just a tiny little bit on my show, because I didn’t know who was listening. But now I will make it up to you by telling you all the truth. Not all the truth, I’m gonna withhold just a little piece of information, but I’m letting you know upfront that there’s one thing that I cannot tell you.

Listen, I was never seeking the Mink for professional reasons, not because it would make the interview of the century or because I wanted to get them to spill all their secrets on the air, no. I wanted to talk to them because they never spill their secrets, because listeners, I have this secret that I have been holding for two years, and I have to tell someone! And here comes this opportunity to talk to his person that never spills any of their secrets. They’re the perfect keeper of forbidden knowledge. And now, here they are.

Thank you so much, Tamika. Now Mink, I gotta tell you something, you know and I’ve only, I don’t think I’ve ever told anybody. Wait, hold on a sec-

18. Secret Interdlue

[music, audience reacts, no audible dialogue]

19. The Escape

Cecil: Oh no, they’re getting away! Aaaaah. Oh man, uh! Ahhhh. [strained noises] We’ll never catch them now. The Mink has escaped. Now, we as a society, we fear secrets. You know, maybe as a species, if we don’t fear them we look down upon them like secret lies or dirty little secrets, and if someone is not willing to say something out loud, then it must be shameful or evil or somehow incorrect but a secret, it’s not good or bad, it’s just not known and the universe is filled with secrets, like consider a field flush with flowers that humans have not seen in generations. If we don’t know about it, is it a secret or or, or a star in the middle of the galaxy that our telescopes do not reach. We will never know about this star, but it glitters secretly in the heart of the universe or, or something more down to earth and mundane like a, like a person who has never tasted a turnip. Doesn’t know what a turnip tastes like and just refuses to ask anybody or eat a turnip. Is that a secret? I don’t know. What is unknown and what is merely unsaid?

Officials from the Sheriff’s Secret Police, the City Council, and the Vague yet Menacing Government Agency all say that they have plans to catch the Mink and those plans are top secret. And since they’re top secret, the Mink has already learned about them, so they are highly unlikely to work. But you know what? Good luck.

Soon I imagine we will all return to a baseline normal as a town, a little less darkness, a lot less secrets but we’re still us, we’re still Night Vale. You know, there’s an energy in secrets. Who we share them with, who we don’t. And not everybody has a right to know everything about everyone, and our curiosity, it’s not a license. And we don’t have to share every part of ourselves with everyone, there’s no shame in privacy. There is, however, an energy in secrets, there’s a-a fission that happens when you share a secret with somebody. And that secret could be an aspect of love, platonic love or romantic love or the love you owe to yourself, love of every kind. And the biggest secret of all is the universe, one that we will never get to unravel.

I mean, I had a secret, and I needed the Mink to help me carry it. And I know that they’re not going to bow to peer pressure and tell aanybody what I just told them. No matter how many drinks people buy at the bar afterwards and say “Hey, what did he just say to you?” No, they’re gonna keep that secret. You know, secrets can be light. Share them with somebody, don’t share them with somebody, hold them for yourself. I mean I’m not ashamed of my secret, certainly not. Certainly not.

See? There’s an energy in secrets. Especially in secrets that all of you will never get to know.

There is an energy in secrets, and I hope that that energy lifts you.

So stay tuned next for the quiet roar of your secret thoughts, some of which you may some day share.

And for the secret heart of my secret self,

Good night, Night Vale,

Good night.