#cause like we always talk about the familial implications but what about the physical familial implications

[odillisea]

Thinking about which brother resembling which parent would have the most angst potential.

Perhaps it would be Sirius looking more like Walburga, growing up and seeing every part of his tormentor in his face and hating it. Or maybe he would be more like Orion, watching himself become more and more like the man who would do nothing but watch, and sometimes add to the pain. More controlled, but no less fearsome. Either way, him making a mistake and hurting his friends and pleading to something, anything out there that he’s not like his parents despite his blood and bones.

But Regulus as well, looking like either of their parents. Staring into a mirror and forcing himself to be proud that he sees the faces of those that hurt him. It means he’s doing a good job. It means he’s becoming more like them, as much as he hates it, and not disappointing the family like his brother Sirius. It means Sirius watching his little brother that he’s worked so hard to protect become more and more like the ones he was protecting him from in the first place.

And then I remember that they’re all cousins and inbred so they all probably look the same anyway. The answer is all of the above.

[wardenparker]

The Stars Re-Align, part 3

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Cursing, food/alcohol, mentions of military service (obviously), complicated relationships, family drama, mentions of past abusive relationship, mentions of past drug use, miscommunication, revelations, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: Helping Frankie and Luna get set up for the next steps of their life brings them much closer to you and Rachel. And to the possibility of family. Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who left such lovely comments and tags on this story as we went along! We really love a good One That Got Away story and we're so happy that you all do, too. Please enjoy the final installment! 🧡 As always, the gif is for the vibes, *not* a physical representation of the reader.

Half an hour after the call, when Benny knocks on the door of Fish's apartment, it's Pope who answers the door. "You brought a second army," he observes. There's just a touch of sadness in his smile when his eyes fall on you, but only a touch. In some ways, it just proves he made the right decision that you've dropped everything to come here.

“I was having dinner with them.” Benny shuffles into the apartment and looks around. “What’s going on, man?”

"Everybody come in." If he's surprised to see you, Will doesn't show it.

There's a tall woman at his side doing some very studious typing on her phone and you dimly recall Rachel saying Ben's brother has a long-term girlfriend. What catches your attention and holds it is the figure of Frankie Morales cradling a baby in his arms, and the way it wraps around your heart and twists is terrible. It's jealousy, but you have no right to that particular emotion. Not now or ever.

Settled by the bottle, Luna isn’t crying anymore, but Frankie continues to hold her close. Probably using her as a bit of a crutch himself, he can’t bring himself to put her down, even if she’s fallen back asleep.

The apartment is a mess. Things have been thrown around in a deliberate temper tantrum sort of way and it's clear that some frantic behavior has followed that tantrum, causing a bit more of a mess in the process. "Frankie..." For now you swallow down whatever conflicting emotions you have and walk over to him while the others get settled. "Ben said it was an emergency," you explain, as if you're trying to dignify why you came with Ben and Rachel even though you know that's not strictly necessary. "Are you—is she—okay?"

“You— she’s—” he’s practically speechless that you are here, his gaze darting around the destroyed apartment and he’s embarrassed that you are seeing this. “She’s okay…physically.” He murmurs, bouncing her in his arms slightly and feeling a little off kilter. “Uh— Marie, she, uh, she found Rachel’s phone number in my jacket.” He clears his throat. “She left.”

“She left…like…permanently?” You swallow hard around the implications of that, trying to reconcile what Rachel has told you of this woman with the kind of person that would abandon a child. It’s not the same as what happened with you and Frankie. This, in your opinion, is far worse.

“I think so.” While Frankie had just talked about extricating himself from a relationship with Marie, he had never once considered a situation where she would abandon Luna. He looks down at his daughter, and then his eyes find Rachel’s guiltily. As if he were just as equally horrible.

“What happened?” No sooner does Rachel meet his eyes than she’s crossing the apartment, laying one gentle hand on Luna’s back and very nearly reaching to hug him. She doesn’t know if he would even want that, but the way she almost just added Dad to the end of her sentence makes her own heart break.

He doesn’t want to tell her. Finding it too repulsive to even consider, but he owes her the most truth he can give. “She— she thinks that it was something different.” He tells her quietly. “Like I would cheat, or sleep with Ben’s girlfriend.” He doesn’t even bring up how disgusting it is since she is his daughter. “I tried to tell her that you— that we are—” he curses himself and snorts. “I told her you are my daughter and she didn’t believe me.”

Rachel blows out a long breath and centers herself, hands on her hips just like her father when he’s working something out. “Can I be honest?” Rachel asks, standing between her two parents and shaking her head.

“Always.” It’s not like he expects anything else, but he wants her to be able to share her thoughts and feelings.

“Marie is a cunt, Dad.” Rachel doesn’t beat around the bush, but reaches again to rub Luna’s back. “I’m glad she’s gone, if she really is. Because she’s awful and you two deserve so much better.”

The snickers of the guys showcase their complete agreement with her view and Frankie frowns as he looks down at his sleeping daughter again. “I just— I didn’t expect her to call our daughter a crotch goblin.” He admits quietly. “She was happy she was pregnant. Even if I wasn’t thrilled.” It’s a guilty thought, but he hadn’t been overly joyful at the prospect of having a kid.

“Terrible people say terrible things,” Rachel reasons. She leans forward more this time, waving one friendly finger in her baby sister’s face to make her giggle then places a kiss on Luna’s forehead. “Good riddance. And if she ever says another word against this little angel, I’ll punt her across the Gulf.”

“I— you’re right.” He sighs softly, his heart clenching at the sight of his previously unknown daughter being so sweet to Luna. “I knew she was resentful that I left on a…business trip when Luna was a few weeks old, but I never thought she would take it out on her.”

“Having a child doesn’t automatically make you a good parent,” you reason, with your hands sheepishly stuffed in your pockets. “Just like you can be an amazing parent without ever having children of your own. It’s not clean-cut like that. And it sounds like…like she was not going to be in this for the long run. One way or another.”

His eyes meet yours, sad because it feels like you might be making a pointed statement about him. He just nods and sighs again when Luna kicks, looking down at her and rubbing her stomach as he holds her. “Yeah.”

“I just mean…” He looks so fucking sad that your heart breaks all over again, when you meant to be supporting him. “There are plenty of people in your circle who are going to be ready to help you, Frankie. Just because the woman who gave birth to this little girl turned out to be less-than-ideal doesn’t mean she’ll be alone. We’re all here to help.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He reminds you quietly. “Call it poetic justice.” He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. Not after what he’s done.

“Don’t be silly.” What happened between the two of you is beside the point, as far as you’re concerned. At least it isn’t relevant right now, so you brush it aside. “It takes a village, right? Well, here we are.”

The differences between you and Marie could not be more evident than at this moment. He swallows harshly and he looks back up at you. “Thanks.”

“Okay.” Santiago’s voice cuts through the tension in the room, and most of the group takes that as a signal to congregate, all moving toward the living room sofa en masse. “So we have some things to figure out, but the ball is rolling. Jess is getting in contact with a lawyer for custody papers, the clean up here will take maybe an hour at most, and from there it’s making sure Fish and Luna are taken care of.”

“I— thanks again.” Frankie mutters, looking incredibly embarrassed by all of this. “I appreciate this and Luna does as well.”

“If it was one of us, you’d be right there in the trenches,” Benny reminds him. He sits down on the edge of the couch and puts an arm around Rachel when she comes to sit beside him, grateful for nothing but kindness from both her and you.

“I have some work I can do remotely for a week or two,” you offer, knowing that handling a baby alone can be difficult even under the best conditions. “And…I can cook.” A thing which was never Frankie’s forte as a teenager.

“I guess that’s— I don’t want to come between you and your life.” His eyes slide over to Santiago, burying his own jealousy because it’s not fair.

“I have the time and the skills.” It isn’t meant to be a rude reminder, but just an honest one. You’re the only person here who has raised a baby thus far. “I’ll take a personal day tomorrow and then work from home for a little while. The office won’t mind, since I’m still in the preliminary stages of my next project.”

“If you’re sure…” Frankie can take care of his daughter. That’s never been a problem. He’s not one that complains about getting up during the night or changing dirty diapers. But he is trying to appeal the loss of his license and needs to be able to attend hearings. It was good that he had preemptively went to rehab and could provide clean tests. Hopefully it would be enough.

“I have a work laptop, a deep knowledge of Disney and children’s music, and the ability to cook enough to leave you leftovers.” For the first time, your hand moves to his arm and you give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure, Frankie.”

"It won't be for long." He promises. "As soon as I can get my license back, I can afford to get a daycare or a sitter service for Luna." He shrugs slightly. "I can fly again." He's not sure what Santiago has told you, but there's no need to hide anything from you.

“Mom has you covered for a little bit, and Benny and I can help,” Rachel assures him. The deep need to connect to her little sister and be there for her father is strong and already growing.

“And Jess and I will fill in the blanks,” Will promises. Luna will never be without a second set of eyes, Fish. You’ll be able to make your appointments and do everything you need to do.”

Frankie blows out a sigh and he looks around. "Should I move?" He asks quietly. "In case she comes back? Or stay here and if she does come back, we address it then?"

“Move in with us.” Rachel blurts out, unapologetic in her honesty and immediately stubborn on the point as soon as the thought occurs to her. “We have the space, and Marie wouldn’t know how to find you.”

Frankie's eyes widen at the offer and his heart leaps at the idea but his gaze darts over to you. "Rachel, sweetheart...I couldn't possibly do that." He shakes his head when your own shocked face mirrors his. You don't want that and he won't make your life harder.

“Guys, will you give us a minute?” This is not a conversation that you want spectators for, and it only takes a second of hesitation for Will and Jess to stand.

“Let’s start picking up.” Will suggests, casting meaningful looks at Santiago and Benny. This isn’t their conversation. Especially not Pope’s anymore.

Frankie shuffles slightly, biting his lip and wishing that he didn't have to hear the scolding that Rachel was in for. He knows that she only has good intentions, but it's not the same as offering up a place to live for him and a child he fathered by another woman.

“Do you feel unsafe here?” You ask Frankie, wanting an honest answer rather than the one he feels he ought to give. Men have a hard time speaking up in abusive situations for a hell of a lot of reasons and you’re not about to add to his stress. “Like if Marie came back, she might hurt you or the baby?”

"She wouldn't hurt me." Frankie assures you. "But...I don't— I might hurt her." He admits softly. "If she tries to hurt Luna. I'll talk to the property management. Have the locks changed."

“Is there any possibility she would actually try to hurt Luna?” This sweet little baby did nothing wrong, and the part of you that missed out on getting to see Frankie hold your little girl is both savoring and jealous of this moment of his protection.

"If she's high?" Frankie wouldn't want to believe it, but he can't be sure. "I don't know. She's angry at me and she knows that I would die for Luna."

“If she’s—” That is going to have to be a conversation for another time, but you nod your head once and look at Rachel. Your steadfast, loyal-to-a-fault daughter is looking at you so expectantly that you can’t even hold her gaze, and end up looking back at Frankie. “We have a guest room and a safe neighborhood. Our HOA is a pain in the ass but if they know a vehicle isn’t supposed to be in the neighborhood they will have a tow truck in the street before she even gets out of her car.”

"Gatita..." he closes his eyes and relaxes slightly when he feels Rachel take the baby from him. Opening his eyes again, he knows that it's the right choice. "We won't be there long." He promises after a moment.

"You'll be there for as long as you need to be." Will it be awkward, maneuvering around each other? Sure. But this isn't about your comfort level. This is about his safety and the safety of his baby.

******

Your home is surprisingly easy to settle into, but Frankie tries to give you and Rachel space. Finding some of the run ins a little awkward in that ‘navigating new roommates’ waters. Right now though, it’s three in the morning and Luna has woken up hungry. Leaving a sleepy-eyed Dad to shuffle into the kitchen in a pair of sleep pants and a little girl bouncing against his bare shoulder as he mixes up a bottle.

There’s a light on in the kitchen when you come down the stairs, bleary-eyed and dealing with a stupid amount of heartburn from that second helping of chili you shouldn’t have had at dinner. You can hear him before you see him — the gentle shushing of a parent soothing an infant — and you knock gently on the archway to the kitchen before stepping inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” you murmur quietly, not wanting to scare Luna.

“Hey, sorry.” Frankie winces slightly, sure that he’s woken you up. “Baby girl needed a bottle. We’ll be settled down and quiet soon.”

“Don’t worry about it.” When you move toward the fridge too, you almost laugh at the irony. “I came down for milk, too. Heartburn is a bitch.”

He winces sympathetically and nods. “Remember when we were young? Heartburn was something our parents made up.” He snorts, aware that he’s had to change his diet as he’s gotten older.

“I’d give anything to be able to eat the way we did back then.” The carton of milk comes out onto the counter and so does a glass, but you’re self-conscious of giving Frankie enough space so you stay tucked in the corner. “Can I ask…” You shift slightly in place. “How are you adjusting?”

“Day to day, at night, it’s not a lot of difference.” Frankie admits. You have helped him tremendously during the day, but he insists on taking care of Luna himself when he gets back. “I always took care of the baby when I got home.” He tells you. “She needed a break and I didn’t mind.”

“Is there anything you need picked up? Changed?” It’s not your place to remark on his ex-girlfriend’s parenting, or seeming lack thereof, but you have noticed that the only people who contact him are his lawyer and his friends. The guys have been quite active actually, either helping him move the last of his things from the apartment into storage, helping with Luna, or helping him get things organized for his hearings.

“I don’t think so.” He is so grateful to you for everything. “I am planning on cutting the grass tomorrow.” He tells you. “So don’t worry about that.”

“I’m assuming it won’t make a difference if I tell you that you don’t need to do chores?” The Frankie of your past was a stubborn guy, and a nostalgic smile curls your lips.

“No.” Frankie frowns and looks over at you with dark eyes. “You are letting me stay, watching my child and you won’t take my money.” He huffs, slightly offended at the handout. “I can help around here.”

“Just don’t overextend yourself. Your appointments are more important than the lawn.” It’s nice that he wants to help, and you’re not going to stop him, but you don’t want Frankie to get himself behind because he gets obsessed with helping.

“I know.” Frankie nods. “I don’t have an appointment tomorrow. And the lawyers said that it looks promising.” He tells you.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Your own glass of milk is cold and soothing, and you pour a second for good measure. “I was planning on working from home again tomorrow. I hope that won’t bother you too much.”

“Gatita, this is your house.” Frankie reminds you. “You are free to do whatever you want.” He snorts. “If you wanted to walk around naked, I would just have to try to not stare.” He’s tired and he’s been dreaming about you after spending so much time with you. He didn’t mean to say that, but it popped out.

The burning in your cheeks is immediate, that combination of embarrassment and rekindled desire making you quickly look away so he won’t see how much you love hearing him call you Gatita again, or how much you actually want him to mean it when he says things like that to you. It had been deep in your head that the love you still have for Frankie would bubble to the surface with him in your house, but you didn’t know quite how bad it was going to be. “Well…I would say you’ve always been a gentleman, but we were teenagers together. The parts of us that are good at restraint now didn’t really exist back then.”

“No need to be a gentleman when I had you.” Frankie murmurs softly, twisting the cap back on the bottle and shaking it up as Luna grunts against his shoulder. She’s not crying right now, but she will be if she doesn’t get her bottle. “Only had to restrain myself around our parents.”

“Something neither of us was terribly good at,” you admit with a snort. “At least they never actually caught us having sex. That would have been mortifying.”

“Dad did.” Frankie admits, sending you a sheepish grin. “Senior year. He opened the door slightly and immediately closed it. I saw him in the mirror.”

“Oh my god.” You almost drop your glass, fumbling to get it on the counter with little enough noise to not agitate the baby and stifle your laughter at the same time. “Seriously? I am so glad you never told me that.”

He laughs quietly and nods. “We had sworn to never speak of it. And I hadn’t, until now.”

“I never would have been able to look him in the eye again.” Unfortunately, Frankie’s father had passed years ago — your own parents had sent you the obituary. “I sent flowers to the funeral home when he passed,” you admit quietly. “No card or anything, but…it was too little too late. I know that.”

Frankie closes his eyes and sighs softly. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly. “He loved you and he told me that I was the biggest goddamn fool for breaking up with you.”

“We were kids.” It’s not a good reason but it’s still a reason, and you’re not willing to rehash your breakup at 3am over milk with his infant.

“Yeah.” He can see that you are building walls against the conversation. He turns Luna over and pops the bottle into her mouth. “Well…I better let you get back to bed.” He murmurs. “Goodnight.”

“I—” The feeling of being dismissed from your own kitchen is uncomfortable at best, and you frown before setting your glass in the dishwasher and simply stepping away. “Sorry to have disturbed you. Goodnight.”

Frankie frowns as he watches you leave and he hates how it seems like you’ve taken three steps back. Sighing softly, he looks down at Luna staring up at him. “What?” He asks her softly. “I didn’t do anything.”

******

By the next morning, you’ve resolved to apologize. Being short with him was unnecessary and doesn’t exactly make things easier for anyone. Not to mention, Frankie is having a hard enough time as it is without you getting mopey that he hasn’t just sat down beside you on the couch and snuggled you into his side like you want him to.

Getting up early, you head back downstairs and start making up a big pan of French toast and another whole tray of bacon. Sure there’s only three of you, but baking breakfast will give you time to make some fresh baby food for Luna, something you had loved doing for Rachel as well.

Frankie wakes up to the sounds of stirring in the kitchen. Groaning quietly at the aches and pains of his older self. Getting older sucks and it’s compounded by the abuse he put his body through when he was in the Army. Glancing at the clock, he sighs and sits up, grabbing his shirt. He will need to get started on the lawn before Luna wakes up.

The coffee pot has just finished bubbling when he gets downstairs, the rich, black brew piping hot and mixing with the other smells in the kitchen to be nothing short of enticing. Coffee, cinnamon, vanilla, bacon, and apples all mix together in the early morning like a welcoming curtain of comfort.

“Smells good.” Frankie shoves his hat on his head. “Baby’s still asleep. Thought I would get started on the grass.”

"Okay." Even though you nod, you gesture slightly at the baby monitor in his hand. "Do you want to leave that with me? I can get her changed and fed while breakfast cooks. She's got fresh apple and sweet potato puree for this morning."

“You’re too good to us—her.” Frankie huffs, shooting you a small smile. “After I get done, I’ll take her right back. I promise.”

"Frankie..." Your palms sweat and you hate yourself for being so affected by him still, but here you are. So deeply affected that you feel like you're fifteen all over again. "I wanted to apologize. For last night."

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Frankie shakes his head. “I was…out of line.”

"I shouldn't have been dismissive, or snapped at you. It's not out of line to want to talk about our past." Exhaling softly, you lean back against the counter and bite your bottom lip as you debate how much is really wise to say. "It's just bringing up a lot of old emotions and I wasn't prepared to work through them thoroughly at three in the morning."

“Yeah,” Frankie shuffles slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He hums quietly. “I know that it’s hard. I should have just kept quiet.”

"No." You shake your head and take a step back toward him instead of shrinking away again. "No, that's...keeping quiet and hiding things from each other is how I got us into this mess. I don't want to perpetuate that anymore."

Frankie sighs. “No, me being a fucking asshole is what got us into the mess of you raising a kid by yourself.” He tells you.

"I should have just told you." Twenty-four years of hindsight is twenty-twenty. "If I hadn't been so scared, it would have worked out eventually."

“And I should have come back.” Frankie snorts. “I should have found you. Begged you to take me back.” He puts his hands on his hips. “There’s a million things I shouldn’t have done, or should have.”

"I should have figured out how to write to you at boot camp. Or found your parents after they moved. Anything." Your arms cross over your chest in some kind of unconscious half-mirroring of him, but you end up swallowing a sigh. "Rachel does that, you know. Her hands on her hips, like you do. There's so much of you in her and I'm so sorry that you missed some of it."

Those words make him close his eyes. Absorbing them and trying not to let them hurt as bad as they do. “I just don’t want to miss any more.”

"I don't want you to, either." It's a small admission. Also too little, too late. But at least it's honest. "And neither does she."

“I know you don’t – this isn’t ideal.” Frankie admits. “You don’t really want me here. And I just don’t want to overstep.”

"Why do you think I don't want you here?" Can you guess at plenty of reasons? Of course. But you're curious to know why he assumes you would have invited him into your home if you didn't want him here at all.

“Who wants their ex in their house?” Frankie snorts. “I’ve cost you your relationship, made you a babysitter and make you uncomfortable by bringing up a past I can’t forget.” He practically whispers the last part, almost ashamed of it.

Something about the whole scenario just makes you crack in your chest and you almost cave in on yourself, letting the words out before you can stop yourself. Six simple words, but with so much meaning. "I don't care. I miss you."

Frankie bites his lip, curling his hands into his hips to keep from reaching for you. “You miss who I was.” He reminds you. “I’ve become a very different one.”

"So have I." You weren't expecting rejection to sting as much as it does, even though you don't even know that you actually offered enough for him to reject. It still makes you want to cry, though, in a very vulnerable and surprised sort of way. "That doesn't mean we aren't still who we are at the core."

“I’ve…done things.” Frankie admits. “Bad things. Things that would make you curl away from me in disgust.”

"Nobody's pure." But you shuffle a little where you're standing and look up again, actually looking him in the eyes. "Santiago told me about South America. Everything. So I'm not as much of a wilting flower as you might think."

“Never said you were.” He knows you are strong, capable. You raised Rachel by yourself and all the struggles that it entailed.

"I'm not trying to force anything." Though if it happened, you would absolutely not be opposed to it. You've realized that in the three days since Frankie and Luna moved into your house. "I'm just saying, if I didn't want you here, or I didn't want to know who you are now...then you wouldn't be here at all. I just wouldn't have offered, regardless of anything Rachel said."

“Maybe you shouldn’t have offered.” Frankie snorts. “Fuck knows you wouldn’t have if you know what I think about around you.” He’s just determined to beat himself up, still depressed and trying to self-sabotage without the use of coke.

That just makes you scoff, shoving your hands in your pockets weakly because what you really want to do is cross the kitchen tiles and just throw your arms around him like you always used to. "I fully expect you to hate me. I'm not going to make you leave my house just because you rightfully dislike your ex for keeping your daughter from you."

He stares at you for a moment before he laughs. “You think I hate you?” He demands roughly. “Hate doesn’t have me dreaming about seeing if I could beat the goddamn record I set when we were seventeen.” He hisses. “Hate doesn’t have me waking up in the middle of the night with my hand around my cock because you still smell the same and those sheets smell like you. Hate isn’t something I want to do to you, gatita.”

For about three full seconds, all you can do is stand there and stare at him. It's like your mind had shut down trying to comprehend what he is saying to you and is only slowly booting back up like an ancient computer. A small squeak escapes you and all the air goes out of your chest just before water pricks at your eyes, and all of a sudden you're moving straight across the kitchen to kiss him before you can even process what you're doing.

Frankie had fully expected a hand across his cheek, so when you launch yourself at him, he’s shocked. Groaning against your lips for a split second before he’s wrapping his arms around you, one hand cradling your head to keep you close. To keep you kissing him.

He's thicker than he was as a gangly teenager. Age has given him muscles and then softened them again, making him pliant under your touch just as much as you are under his. The powerful magnet of attraction between you leaves no room for questioning in the moment. You're just two people clinging desperately to each other and to hope, and the first slide of your tongue against his when your lips part to deepen the kiss is like coming home. A very specific, very teenage home – but this is still where your heart lives.

Frankie groans, finding it to be his turn to move. Turning and pressing you against the counter as he drowns in this kiss. It feels so right, despite the mistakes that he has made, the sins he has committed, he tastes nothing but the overwhelming sense of rightness in your lips.

He had dipped down to find the perfect angle to capture your soft moan when it crossed your lips, but now Frankie straightens again. Breaking your head so it won’t hit the cabinets, his other hand pulls you close at the waist — expanded, soft from carrying and birthing a baby and simply being alive for more than forty years — as your hands wander his body to recommit every plane of him to memory. There’s a beautiful rosy nostalgia over the kiss even with the nearly feral need each of you feels, and something drastic might have happened if not for the soft cry of surprise that emanates from the half-light of the living room.

Pulling back in surprise, Frankie’s eyes widen when he sees Rachel standing there. “Uh, I—” he glances at you, unsure of what to say at this point.

“Rach, why don’t you go check on your sister?” You suggest, feeling the reason that Frankie might need a couple of minutes to calm down throb and jump against your hip. Not that your restraint is much better. You’re going to need to change your panties just from being kissed.

“Uh, sure, I can do that.” She nods dramatically, whirling around. “Then I—I’m going to go over to Ben’s. All day. I’ll text when I come back.”

“Breakfast in five minutes!” You call after her, not sure if she’s actually heard you or not as her footsteps ascend the stairs all over again. She’s gone again in a flash and you bite your lip when your eyes track back to Frankie, no guilt or embarrassment in your expression, only a little bit of sheepishness at being caught.

“Well, I think that embarrassed her.” Frankie comments as he looks over to you. He doesn’t know exactly what you are thinking, but it’s not regret on your face. That makes a ghost of a smile curl up the edges of his mouth.

“Don’t let her fool you.” The warmth in your cheeks is only matched by the warmth in the rest of you, waves of it crawling under your skin with how close he is. “She thinks I don’t know that she’s wanted her parents back together since she was five years old.”

“She didn’t know me.” Frankie frowns slightly and hopes this isn’t just some kind of wish fulfillment.

“I used to tell her more.” You admit, though you’re not sure if that’s good or bad. It’s selfish, but it was also survival. “I stopped when she got old enough to realize that…” Blowing out a breath, your eyes drop down from his. He probably does not want to hear this, despite kissing you back just now. “That I’ve still always had feelings for you.”

“You— you still wanted to be with me?” He’s surprised that you would, given how he had left. “Baby….its— I’ve always regretted leaving you. I called you.” He reveals. “Several times….but I never could say anything.”

“You called?” Your eyebrows raise back all the way up your forehead, eyes watery with hopeful tears that you refuse to shed and ruin the moment. “Oh no…” A gasp leaves you, almost washing out the sounds of Rachel and Luna cooing and giggling at each other over the baby monitor. “You called…in the two years after you left for the Army?”

“Yeah.” Frankie chokes out, looking away and feeling ashamed that he hadn’t been able to fucking say a word when he had called your house. “After I got out of bootcamp. I would fucking dial your number at least twice a week. Every time, someone would pick up and I couldn’t say a word. Didn’t have the words I wanted to say.”

“And then…after a while…the number stopped working?” You guess, biting back a sigh of regret.

“Yeah.” He frowns and tilts his head. “How did you—”

“Because my parents got their phone number changed after we had so many hangups in such a short amount of time,” you explain, now feeling guilty for what had happened. “They thought it was some criminal or stalker or something. We moved about a year later anyway.”

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, closing his eyes and berating himself for his fucking stupidity. “I just— I choked every time I tried to ask for you. In fucking Delta training and I couldn’t fucking apologize.”

“No use in being upset about it now…” Those days are twenty years past. A lifetime ago and then some. And you’re stuck in the here and now with your hand still flexing at his hip. “We should…talk, though. Rach is going to have a million questions.”

“Of course.” He nods and slides his hands over his lounging pants. “What— you start.”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it… You tell yourself sternly, eyes flickering down to where his large hands stretch dangerously to other, equally interesting parts of him. “We both just…we were seeing other people. Until literally a few days ago.” If you don’t remind yourselves of that you feel like you’ll burst. “But…I miss you. And I do still have feelings for you. And…and if you’re open to it, when you’re ready, I think finding out how we could be together as adults is— well, it’s a long time coming, would you say?”

That….is not what he expected you to say. He had expected to hear something about taking it slow or perhaps it should be kept quiet, but not that. “I’ve never stopped having feelings for you.” Frankie promises you softly. “And I— I’ve missed you every goddamn day.”

“I’m not going to push you for anything. Not quickly, not ever.” Whatever he wants to have with you, you want it to be freely given just like you intend to give freely. “I kind of…really love seeing you in my house like this…”

He looks down at his clothes, like that might explain what you are talking about. “Rumpled?” He jokes quietly.

“That’s one word for it,” You admit, grinning softly. “I was thinking sexy, though.”

“If tired, ex-military dad is sexy, I guess I’m it.” Frankie smirks.

“It is.” You can’t help but laugh a little. “Definitely.”

He steps closer to you again. “Well, do you want to drool over this tired dad mowing the grass?” He teases. “I’ll even do it shirtless.”

“Eat breakfast with us first.” That is something you’ll insist on, especially since the timer is about to go off on the oven in about twenty seconds. “And then I’ll sit and gawk at the dining room table afterward.”

Frankie snorts but agrees with a nod. “It smells amazing. You are a great cook.”

“You always liked breakfast, so I took a shot that you would like Rachel’s favorite baked French toast.” You’re going to need to open the oven in just a few seconds, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from the heat of him. “I swear I can do more than just casseroles now.”

He chuckles quietly. “Better than me. Although I need to learn. Luna deserves to have a parent who can feed her more than frozen dinners.” You also deserve to have some of the burden lifted off of you, but that’s another conversation.

“I’ll teach you if you want?” There were a couple of family recipes his mother taught you when you were teenagers that Rachel loves, and plenty of other things of course. But when the timer goes off and you’re forced to step away reluctantly, you add: “And I bet Rachel would, too. She’s pretty damn good in her own right. It might be something you can do together.”

“Maybe we can all do it?” Frankie asks hopefully. Wanting to spend time with both of you. “Between the two of you, I might have a fighting chance.”

“Absolutely.” You’re about willing to promise him anything he wants right now, but first it’s just about taking the pans out of the oven and stifling the need to steal one more kiss when you hear Rachel descend the stairs with a happily babbling Luna in her arms.

“Good.” Frankie makes sure you aren’t holding a pan when he swoops in again. Planting a quick, hard kiss on your lips. “Later.” He whispers, much like he had promised so many years ago when you were about to be interrupted.

It’s good that the girls make plenty of noise coming downstairs so no one else can hear the more-than-slightly-pitiful whimper that Frankie pulls out of you, but you snap back into reality well enough to clamp your mouth shut and motion for him to grab plates from the cupboard without imploding.

“Everyone decent?” Rachel calls out before her head pokes around the door. “There’s a small child present!”

“We were never not decent,” you point out, waving your daughter into the room. “Do you want to get your sister’s cup of food or help your dad set the table?” It’s possibly the most domestic sentence you’ve said…maybe ever, and it rolls through you like summer sunrise.

“Whatever you need me to do.” Her grin is wide and proudly embarrassed as she eyes both of you. “Soooooooooooo. Mom.” She tilts her head towards you with a glint in her eyes. “Do we need to have the safe sex talk, young lady?”

“Your very existence is proof that it’s too late for that,” you remind her, but a smirk forms in the corner of your mouth either way. “Let’s all sit down to eat and we can talk a little. Okay?”

“Seriously though.” Rachel turns towards her dad. “You hurt my mom, and I’ll sic Ben on you.” She warns playfully.

“Sweet pea, get your sister settled and we’ll all talk,” you insist, biting your lip a little at the idea of anything going wrong again. You don’t like it and you don’t even want to process it right now.

“Okay.” It’s more you using ‘sweet pea’ instead of anything else that makes her nod and move to get Luna settled in her high chair. You are upset about something, or avoiding it and she wonders what it is.

It takes a few minutes to get everyone settled and served, but you manage it pretty well and Frankie gets Luna fed before digging in for himself.

“So….” Frankie takes a bite, groaning and rolling his eyes happily at the taste of the casserole. “This is good.” He moans. “Like the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.” He might have been about to start this talk, but now he’s distracted by the breakfast.

"Iknowright?" Rachel mumbles all at once, thrilled to see her favorite breakfast materialize on the table without asking for it.

“So good.” He forks up another bite before reaching for the syrup again to add more to the French toast bake.

"At least I know I can subdue you both with French toast if you get out of hand," you tease, looking between father and daughter at the table and snorting a laugh.

Both of them look up at you at the same time, forks halfway to their mouths, with the exact same disgruntled expression on their faces.

"Goddamn I wish you could see yourselves right now." It isn't that you didn't know Rachel was like her father. You had known that for her whole life. But seeing them side by side throws it into sharp relief. "Look at these two," you coo to Luna, reaching over to tickle the baby's soft and chubby belly in that way that makes her giggle. "They're exactly the same, aren't they sweetheart?"

It’s fucking amazing, how you are with Luna. Frankie had always felt like Marie wasn’t as maternal or soft as he thought she should be, but then immediately felt guilty for thinking that way. He’s just happy that you are obviously thrilled to have a baby in the house. “We have some similar traits?” He asks, looking over at Rachel.

"Apparently a lot." Rachel shrugs, not knowing she does it in the same way as her father and always has. "According to Mom, Ben should have picked up a vibe really fast."

"I think it just made him subconsciously more comfortable with you," you clarify, forking up another bite of your own breakfast. "Which is a good thing. I'm not saying he should have been confused by it or anything."

Frankie chuckles lightly and reaches over to pick up another spoonful of the puréed apples and sweet potato to feed to Luna. “He would have just thought you were weird.” He jokes.

"To be fair, he does think I'm weird," Rachel clarifies. Her coffee is getting low and she stretches to grab the pot for a refill. "But he likes that about me."

He snorts and nods, holding up his cup when she offers to refresh his. “Ben’s weird himself, so that checks out.”

"Weird is better." You've always thought so. Even used to say so when you were younger. "It's more interesting."

“You used to say I was your perfect kind of weird.” Frankie blurts out, remembering when you would lovingly coo it to him. He would always roll his eyes, but he enjoyed it.

"You were." The reminder – the fact that he even remembers you saying that – warms through you and your face burns bashfully. "Probably still are, if we're honest."

“I think that makes you even weirder.” Frankie snorts, shooting you a playful look. “Because….look at me.”

"I'm not exactly the world's most exciting person, Frankie." You aim a shrug in his direction, doctoring your refilled mug of coffee. "It took me a long time, but for the most part I'm happy with where I am in life. That doesn't make me too interesting, though."

“No, nothing is interesting about a strong, beautiful, capable woman who has raised an equally beautiful daughter by herself, made a comfortable life for her and still maintained the sweetness of youth.” Frankie narrows his eyes slightly, hating how you put yourself down.

"And she has a super fucking cool job, too." Rachel pipes up, obviously ready to back her father up on this one. "Working for the Mouse means we get to go to the parks for free. Luna's going to love it just like I did."

“Just because you went, doesn’t mean Luna will get tickets too, sweetheart.” Frankie reminds her.

“Of course we’ll go.” The idea that Frankie doesn’t think you’d treat his baby daughter well hits you somewhere deep in your chest and you work not to frown. “Unless you don’t want to go? Then we’ll just have a girl’s day.”

“It’s not—” he’s offended you, something that he wasn’t trying to do and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way you took it. I just— I never assume anything.” He tells you. “Just because you have tickets doesn’t mean you owe them us, that’s all.”

“It isn’t that I owe it to you.” Reaching across the space at the table in front of Luna’s highchair, you squeeze his hand gently. “But Rach is right, even if she didn’t exactly mean to point it out. We’re a family.”

Frankie looks over at Luna and smiles softly, the baby is shoving her fingers in her mouth and cooing happily. “You ever want more kids?” He asks.

"All the time." You don't mind answering that honestly, but you shrug your shoulders and pick up a piece of bacon from your plate. "I don't relish being referred to as a geriatric pregnancy, though."

“You aren’t geriatric.” Frankie frowns and shakes his head. “Hell— I mean…I thought this was my first go round, but I missed the first.” He hates it, but he reaches over and takes Rachel’s hand with his other. Holding both of your hands.

"Geriatric pregnancies are anyone giving birth over the age of thirty-five." Rachel clarifies for her father, fully putting aside her fork to hold his hand with both of hers. "Mom just doesn't want to feel old. Even though she says I'm the thing that made her old." The last thought comes with a teasing grin thrown your way.

“Hell, I feel ancient knowing I have a grown ass daughter.” Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “I know she feels the same way, considering she had to carry you.”

Your own half-laugh sounds when you swing your head over to look at him. "You make big babies, Morales."

He chuckles and shrugs slightly. “That might be why Marie was never happy after Luna.” He jokes. “She was nearly eleven pounds, believe it or not.”

Rachel snorts, forkful of food halfway to her mouth, and grins. "Twins. I was eleven pounds, too. Eleven pounds and...twenty inches?" She looks to you when she can't remember.

"Twenty-one." It probably shouldn't, but it makes you laugh at this point. The horror over how big she was at birth is long over with. "The nurse asked me if the father was a giant."

“Definitely not a giant.” Frankie huffs, knowing that he’s shorter and weighs less than Rachel’s boyfriend. But he can still kick his ass.

"To answer your question..." The three of you go back to eating, finishing up your plates with satisfaction. "I absolutely think about having more kids all the time. That's why I love babysitting so much."

“Yeah….” It’s definitely helped him. He had spent so much time worrying about his home life that he couldn’t properly square things away. He owes you a lot. “You’re great with her.”

"If I ever overstep, you just need to tell me." It's been a lot of years since you took care of your own infant. Parenting advice has definitely changed. And as much as you might dream about having another kid, Luna is not your baby. She's Frankie's and that means he has the last word on decisions for her.

“I doubt you could overstep.” He argues but he nods when you just stare at him. “But I will let you know.”

"So..." When the last bite is off her plate, Rachel sits back in her chair with her coffee mug in both hands. "I'm going to go to Ben's..." she repeats her thought from earlier with both eyebrows raised. "All day. Probably for two days...you guys...gonna do anything special?"

Frankie cuts his eyes over to Rachel, knowing exactly what she’s going to be doing thanks to Ben’s fat fucking mouth before he knew she was his daughter. “Talking.” He grunts. “Cutting the grass. Cleaning my guns.”

"Dad..." Since she broke the ice on using that title, Rachel has embraced it. "No guns on Ben."

“No promises.” Frankie huffs. “Fucker deserves it.” He shrugs his shoulders when she squawks at him. “What? I won’t hit anything vital!”

"Sorry, Rach." You snicker softly, under your breath. "This is part of having a Dad."

“I don’t think I like this part.” Rachel rolls her eyes playfully and Frankie rolls his right back.

“Yeah, will I don’t like knowing how my daughter gives a blowjob. So we’re even.”

"Okey dokey." Instantly shooting up from the table, you focus entirely on picking up Luna without looking at Rachel or Frankie. "Gonna take the baby into the living room. I'll clean up later."

“Sorry.” Frankie apologizes as you whisk out of the room like your pants are on fire. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

"She'll get over it." Rachel does smile though, a small and embarrassed expression on her face. "Ben feels like an asshole for talking the way he did, for the record. He apologized to me, too. Even though I don't really care."

“We’ve all talked that way before.” Frankie can admit that. The only reason it became a problem is because of who she is to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t care. “But it’s good he apologized. He really loves you.”

"And I really love him." She promises, absolutely serious. "As his friend, I hope you know that."

“Even as your dad.” It’s a title that always makes him smile when either one of them uses it. “I want you to be with someone who loves you. That’s all I want. He’s a good man.”

"I know it's new..." she sips her coffee as they sit together. "But do you mind that I've started using that name?"

“No.” That’s something he would never mind. “Not at all, I’m….glad you feel comfortable calling me ‘Dad’.” He admits with a small smile. “Just hope that one day that you’re proud that I am your dad.”

"I am proud." Even when he was just her boyfriend's friend, she had always liked Frankie a lot. He's a good guy who doesn't give himself nearly enough credit. "I'm proud of Mom and I'm proud of you, too."

“That…that’s great.” He nods, enjoying the conversation and feeling proud of the fact that she is happy to know him.

"I'm going to clean up and go to Ben's." Pushing back from the table and standing, Rachel puts one hand out to squeeze his shoulder and starts to pick up dishes and stack them in her arms. "Whatever you and Mom end up talking about...just know how much she loves you. My whole life she's never looked at another guy the way she looks at you. I know you mean the world to her."

“You have no reason to really believe me, because of me being gone from your life the entire time you were growing up, but I don’t want to hurt her. Ever again.” Frankie promises. “I think we deserve to be happy.”

"I think so, too." Rachel agrees, but instead of letting the moment get too serious, she throws her father a grin and nods toward the backyard. "So go mow the lawn so she can have a good ogle. I'll clean up from breakfast before I go."

Frankie snorts, aware that her knowledge of that meant she had been eavesdropping, but he doesn’t mind it. “Thanks,” he tosses her his own grin and pushes back from the table to at least clear his plate. “Plus, it’ll be good for her not to have to do the grass.”

******

“I don’t think you will be less than a mama to her.” He hums as he transfers the baby into your arms. “She will only know you as her mother, especially the way you already love her.”

“Sounds like you’re planning on staying.” And while it’s just an observation, your heart leaps up into your throat so you have to swallow it back done just to breathe.

“If that’s what we decide.” He won’t push his way in. Luna yawns and leans her head against your shoulder in a move that makes him smile. “We can talk about it later. She’s sleepy and I need a shower.”

“I’ll put her down for her nap. You go clean up, love.” Honestly? You dread the thought of Frankie leaving again. Even having him leave to go to work will have you in a state of anxiety for a while, even if you’re doing your best to hold it together for the girls’ sakes. Luna needs a steady caregiver and Rachel absolutely does not need to see you anxious or worrying over her father.

“Come talk to me after you get her down?” He asks, knowing it won’t take him long to shower. He would probably be dressed by the time you get her down.

“Absolutely.” Not having to talk over the baby’s head is a good place to start, if nothing else. You lean in when he moves to kiss your cheek again and then part, with Frankie heading to the bathroom and you heading into what is now Luna’s nursery.

Frankie has been trained by the military. He was never an untidy person to start, but an entire career in the Army had taught him how to clean and be efficient in showering. He does take a little more time today, trimming his beard and shaving, wanting to clean up a little more for you.

As predicted, by the time you get Luna settled down for her nap, you hear the shower shut off down the hall. A small stop off in your own room might just be to check your hair and that you haven’t had a bit of bacon stuck in your teeth all morning. Once you’ve decided he’s had enough time to dress and you can’t stall anymore, you grab the baby monitor and go down the hall to knock on his door.

Because of the shaving, Frankie is still wrapped in a towel, secured at his waist. Still, he doesn’t hesitate. “Come in.”

"Luna's down for her uh— her, her nap," you report, only barely stammering when you see Frankie standing by the bed and sighing inwardly at the way your mouth runs dry.

“Good.” He doesn’t smirk, although he wants to. You alternate between staring and looking away in embarrassment.

"It's gonna be hard to talk if I can't look you in the eye." Which is stupid, because it's not like he wasn't the first person in the world you were naked with – but here you are flustered like a teenager all over again.

“Does it bother you?” Frankie asks, looking down. “That I’m not dressed? You knocked on my door.”

"It doesn't bother me." But you do feel the need to clarify, for the sake of the situation. "It's just very distracting."

“Distracting, huh?” Frankie was never more confident than he was with you and since being here, that has started to come back. “Wonder why that is.”

"Because you're handsome, Francisco," you huff, fully amused, and roll your eyes at him for effect.

“And you’re gorgeous, gatita.” He murmurs.

"We should probably have that talk." Instinctively, shutting the door comes with stepping inside, even though it isn't necessary. Maybe it's a leftover reflex from seeking privacy in the apartments where you grew up.

“Okay.” Frankie moves over to the dresser to grab a pair of sweats to slide on under the towel so you won’t be uncomfortable.

"You want to go first?" The only place in the room to sit is on the guest bed, and you perch on the end with your hands under your thighs and nerves jittering out of control.

“You look like you need get things off your chest.” Frankie hums. “You can go first.”

"I'm just...trying to think about what comes next." Your fingers twist in the blanket, making you look even more nervous than you feel. "I make plenty enough to support this family while you get things cleared up with your license. This is a stable home for Luna with actual family to help look after her. "If what you want is to be back together, we're in a very good position to make it work."

“I have my retirement.” Frankie reminds you. “I don’t expect you to support us. I want to take care of you too.” He never wants to take advantage of you. He wants to give you more than he ever takes.

"Do you actually still enjoy flying? Is it something you want to get back to? Or is it what you were doing because you were made to?" It's a fair question, and one you don't ask easily. But you get the feeling that before this, Frankie didn't get a lot of options.

“I love it.” Frankie admits. “I’m fucking good at it, completely in love with it. Why?”

"I wasn't sure if Marie had given you a chance to actually choose what you love to do, instead of just what would make money," you admit. "I was going to offer that you could take your time. Pursue whatever you wanted to, or even be a stay at home Dad for a while if that's something that interests you. I just..." One hand sneaks out from under your thigh and reaches for him as you sit on the bed. "I want you to be happy, baby. Truly happy."

“I—” Frankie’s never thought about being a stay at home dad. “I volunteered for flight school. Being in the air, flying, it’s like second nature to me now.” He tells you, kneeling down in front of you. “But…I wouldn’t mind staying home with Luna.” He admits. “I would be happy with that for a bit. I could fly part time. Spend most of it with her, still get my thrills from flying.”

"I don't want you to do what you feel you have to." That point can't have enough emphasis for you. It really is the backbone of everything you want for his future – that it is a future he chooses for himself out of passion and excitement. "If flying is what you want to do, then find the job that makes you the most excited. That lets you balance and be happy and not run yourself into the ground like I know you've been doing because you're still the same Frankie that I fell in love with when we were just kids."

“What I have to do is to be a good example to Luna, to Rachel.” He tells you. “To give them everything I can and make you happy too.”

"And I have every faith that you'll do that." Just once, you lost your faith in Frankie Morales because of fear. You're not going to let it happen again, when you're finally in a position for both of you to really have everything you've ever wanted.

“Can I kiss you again?” Frankie asks, looking into your eyes.

It's like feeling a light switch flip somewhere in your body, and you light up all over. Including your brightest smile. "I really want you to."

Frankie smiles, huffing out a small laugh as he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours again.

The momentum tips you backward on the bed, laying you out on the bed underneath him and making you reach up to grab his shoulders to steady yourself. It's not a small kiss or a tentative one, but one that blots out the rest of the world, making sure the only thing you can possibly think of is him.

It’s been a long time since he has been so enthusiastic about kissing someone, but this is just like your first time all over again. He’s nervous, excited. Age and experience are the only things keeping his hips from rocking an already hard erection against your stomach as he covers your body with his own.

If anyone was trying to tell the difference between you and Frankie as teenagers and you and Frankie now, they would find the task almost impossible. An all-consuming kiss, wandering grasping hands, and only the barest thread of restraint are all hallmarks of the two of you together. If he had still been wearing that towel it would be gone in an instant, but as it is one of your hands slides all the way down to the waistband of his sweatpants and grips in earnest.

“Fuck.” Drowning in you is where he wants to stay. Barely breathing and pulling himself away to kiss down your neck. Wanting to kiss every inch of you. “I— I got checked out.” He groans against your neck. “Physical. I’m clean.”

The pause that gives you is immediate, freezing under him in embarrassment. “I—I haven’t yet. Since…it’s only been a few days. I have condoms though.” With all the upheaval since ending things with Santiago, getting tested had slipped your mind.

“It’s – Pope’s clean.” He knows his brother in arms. He knows how the man is. He might have been a man whore before, but he doesn’t sleep with multiple women. If he was with you, he was tested and only slept with you. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I—” Maybe its impulsive. Or overly emotional. But when Frankie meets your eyes all you can do is tell him the truth. “I just want to feel you again.”

Frankie groans and nods, nudging his nose against yours and kissing you again. “I want that too.” He insists, pulling away to start peeling your clothes off of you as efficiently as possible.

The pair of leggings and light dress you had reached for this morning in an effort for minimal fuss might as well be nothing at all in the face of Frankie’s determination. The thin cotton dress is up over your head in no time and the leggings peel off of you with all the difficulty of a two-piece puzzle. “I didn’t expect this…” you admit quietly, telling him I’m not so many words that you would have at least picked a matching bra and panties set this morning if you thought there was a possibility he would see them.

“Neither did I,” his smooth cheek would suggest otherwise, but he grins and leans down to kiss down your chest. “But I don’t care about panties, hair, or anything else. I just want you.”

It’s useless that he felt the need to put on pants, because now you’re pushing them off his hips with both hands and biting back a groan at the softness of him. He’s filled out, because of course he has, and the scars from his missions echo your stretch marks in all the years that have been lost between you.

“Gatita…” Your nickname comes out like a prayer, his lips worshipping every inch of your skin.

“Bet it’s been a while since you’ve groaned that name.” It’s certainly been long enough since you heard it like that, a fact that shivers through you with increasing excitement.

“Not true.” He admits with a small smirk as he looks up at you. “You were still my favorite jerk off memory.”

“Still moaning my name while you get yourself off?” Someone that’s simultaneously the sweetest and filthiest thing you’ve heard in ages and you open your legs wider to let him rest in that valley between your thighs. “Let’s see if we can give you something new to think about.”

He gives another filthy groan, aware that things have changed, but he doesn’t care. Your stretch marks are gorgeous to him, you gave birth to his child. Every mark is special. You are just as sexy to him as you were when you both were teenagers. He pulls your bra down and wraps his lips around one nipple as he slides his fingers between your folds to find your clit.

“Fuck, Frankie!” Careful not to be too loud since Luna is napping down the hall, you bite back letting a real shout out and it turns into more of a growl. Your hands are on him instantly, grasping at his shoulders, curling in his hair, and holding him in tight against you as your hips snap up to seek out his thick fingers.

He chuckles darkly, very pleased to find that you are reactive and vocal in your older years. Keeping you quiet had been a favorite game of his.

It isn’t really that different from when you were young. The desire is there as clear as day, coursing through you and sparking with every touch. Every kiss is endlessly deep, like you hold the key to each other’s lives somewhere inside yourselves and the hunt for that missing piece is as deliberate as it is lazy.

Fingers circle your throbbing sex, slicking themselves up with the arousal that is pouring out of you before he dips them inside. Remembering how you loved to be fingered when you were younger, even letting him do it on the subway under a jacket.

If it were anyone else, you might be embarrassed at how thoroughly dripping you are for him already. But Frankie was the first to feel how wet you get from something as simple as being kissed just right, and the hope that is making your pulse beat wildly out of time right now is that he will also be the last. The bookends of your lives might always have been meant to be each other.

The key to making your legs shake and your pussy clench around him is to start slowly. Pushing two fingers deep and curling them up as your walls stretch around him. Groaning at your nipple and flicking his tongue over the stiff peak.

For as well as he remembers your body, it might as well be yesterday that he last touched you and not twenty-five years ago. Your back bows and you moan again, fingernails scraping against his scalp in the way that always makes him growl gorgeously.

“Shit.” Frankie hisses in pleasure, pulling his fingers back and enjoying the sucking sound that they make in your sopping wet pussy. Only to press his thumb to your clit and plunge them back deep again.

The whines and whimpers he pulls from you are as deliberate as any musician playing their instrument in an orchestra. He still plays you expertly. Like muscle memory. He is the one who taught you so much of what brings you pleasure, and you did the same for him. It's all you can do in this moment to get your mind into high gear like the rest of your body, and reach down with one hand and wrap your fingers around his cock.

"Fuck." He groans, rocking his hips up towards the long-wanted touch of your hands. "You always touch me— fuck," he moans your name. "You touch me like no one else ever has."

"Always make me feel so good, baby," you pant out, body twisting every second to be able to be as close to him as possible. "Always want to return the favor."

"You will." He promises. "Let me make you feel good."

"You always do." The promise is absolute, because he really always knows how to make you feel better than anything else ever could.

His fingers continue to pump into you, working you higher and higher as every sensitive nerve ending in your pussy is set on fire by his touch. The tell-tale sign is when your legs begin to shake, thighs tightening and pussy clenching around his fingers. The long strokes of your hand over his cock stutter as pleasure starts to short-circuit your mind, making you forget everything except how good you feel. Frankie has always been good with his hands, but he's definitely learned a few tricks over the years.

Your pussy clenches around his fingers like a vice and he keeps pumping them into you. Wanting to wring you of every second of pleasure you will give him. The quiet cry of his name is like a shot of lightning through his system. "Good girl, fuck gatita. You're so good for me."

It's not you who is being good right now, but Frankie who is treating you so well that when you cry out in pleasure there are actual tears in your eyes. The peak of that pleasure that he's been building you up to is so high that you almost get the sensation of falling when your body finally tenses, shaking you apart at the seams so that the only part of you that hangs on as you start to cum are the parts of you that he has claimed as his own.

His lips still skim over your body as he works you through it. Whispering praises into your skin in Spanish as he watches your face in awe. Struck by how beautiful you are, crushed that he has been so stupid as to walk away so long ago. Determine to make up for lost time.

Whimpering when the aftershocks leave you limp underneath him, both of your hands urge Frankie back up your body, needing to kiss him more than you need air in this moment.

He hums proudly as he shuffles up, kissing you lazily with a grin curving his lips. “Sounds like you just came, gatita.” He teases quietly.

“You’re a menace, Frankie Morales.” The observation is as true now was it was twenty-five years ago.

"Your menace." He adds, smirking slightly as he kisses you again. It sounds amazing, being yours again. He's always been yours in his heart, but now...it's a second chance for both of you.

“I love you, baby.” Another kiss for him is gentler this time. His face is full of promises and his eyes shine bright in the early afternoon light that streams in through his windows.

"I love you." He vows softly, reaching up and caressing your cheek. "I want to make love to you."

“Please.” It might sound like begging, and maybe it is, but it’s been far too long since the last time you laid in this man’s arms and right now you don’t want to be anywhere else.

Every touch is calculated, timed. Meant to show you how much he is cherishing you and this moment means the world to him. He kisses your lips and whispers his love for you once again as he shifts and lines up with your welcoming entrance.

Every stitch of clothing between you is gone along with your inhibitions. Nothing to interrupt you as long as Luna stays asleep and you are definitely not going to do anything to wake up that angel. You'll swallow down every cry or pour it into kissing Frankie and just basking in the beauty of having him back in this moment.

"I love you, gatita." They were the same words that he had whispered to you when he had pushed inside you the first time, repeated now as he slowly starts to sink into you. Watching every micro expression you make as he feels like he is coming home.

“I love you s—so much.” You’ve never been overtly emotional about sex. Not really. You weren’t the kind of girl who cried at the emotional moment of losing your virginity or got choked up over a loving vow made in the heat of the moment. But being so connected with Frankie again almost has you in tears at the sheer rightness of this moment.

Frankie’s arms slide under you, pulling you close as he starts to pull his hips back. Not wanting there to be an inch of space between you when there doesn’t have to be. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He whispers. “Not letting you go again.”

The promise rolls through you with such seriousness that you cling to him a little more tightly. “Never going to let you go.” When his hips tilt forward again, filling you and pressing your bodies together just that much tighter, you could swear you feel one of the cracks in your heart knit back together.

His own heart doesn’t ache anymore, the missing piece that has been gaping in his chest is returned to him. Slotted right back into place perfectly and making him whole. Kissing you again as age and emotions make this time last much longer than your first together.

Moans and praises stay stifled not because of a small apartment with family nearby, not because of friends or because the moment is stolen or illicit, but because you’re drowning in kissing each other the entire time. Every movement is fluid, moving one into the other so it is impossible to tell where you end and he begins, all that matters is that you’re not letting go. Nothing else matters if it isn’t something you can do together — because you’ll never be apart again.

Nothing has ever been as magical as this moment, beyond the first moment he held Luna after she was just born. Nothing can compare to the utter tranquility in his soul, the quiet in his mind as he gives and takes from you in equal parts.

Who knows how long you stay in that bed, turning over each other, clinging and moaning low into drawn out kisses. Who knows how long you stay there or how many times you change positions, keeping each other as close as possible while you work through the bliss of reunion up to the precipice of pleasure. By the time his hips start to stutter and the coil of orgasm starts to tug at the pit of your stomach, you’re on top of him — riding him even as you pour your heart into sobbing praise.

Looking up at you in wonder, all he can do is watch as you splinter yourself into pieces on top of him. Mixing and mingling with him until he is tugging you back close and devouring your mouth in another kiss. Breathing his amazement into you.

You shatter together, finding that remarkable peak of pleasure all at once, and holding tight to each other as you ride out the aftershocks as one.

It goes on forever. Or at least it seems too. Both of you drifting down together until you are collapsed against his chest and breathless. Frankie aching with the first good pain he’s felt in such a long time.

“I love you, baby.” This is it. This is home. The closest to paradise you have ever been or will ever be is in this man’s arms and you’re not going to let another second of your life pass without him being a part of it.

“I love you too, gatita.” He wraps an arm around you and strokes your bare back softly. “I had a thought today, one that’s horrible, but it’s true.” You hum, lifting up to your elbow to look at him curiously. “I wished that you were Luna’s mother. That she was our second baby together.” He chuckles. “Or that late in life ‘whoops’.”

“You never know,” you hum softly, cradled on his chest with your knees still bracketing his hips. If you never move again, you’ll be only too happy to be this close to him. “I still have a couple of years in me as far as baby making goes. Only a few, but they’re still there. And Luna…Frankie, I already love her. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t give birth to her myself.”

His brow lifts in surprise. “Would you really want that?” He asks seriously. “Another baby? With me?”

“I don’t know if it’s possible or safe,” you remind him gently, lifting your head to kiss him again. “But what if I made an appointment with my doctor to get checked out? Let her tell us if it’s a bad idea before we get our hearts set on it?”

“Whatever you want.” Frankie agrees. “I’m clean.” He promises you softly. “I’m never touching any of that shit ever again.” He told you about the coke and you had taken it surprisingly well, but he wants to remind you that he’s serious.

"I know, love." It was a long and twisted road that led him to that, and Marie was the one driving the proverbial car, so you know it's behind him for sure. But you also know Rachel would never forgive him if he relapsed and something happened to little Luna, and he has the love of two daughters hanging in the balance now. "I also know, whatever happens, I love you and I'm going to be right here at your side."

“My license is going to be reinstated.” He whispers quietly. “One of the board members told me. It’s not official yet, but he….wanted to let me know.”

"Honey that's— that's fantastic." You dive in to kiss him again before reluctantly sliding off of him, letting yourself be tucked into his side instead. "We're gonna make it work this time, Frankie. Every bit of it."

“Even if I don’t fly right away, I have my retirement. My disability.” He promises. “I can help you. I need to help you.”

"We'll make up a budget, and we'll make sure everyone is contributing to the house somehow." The grin playing at your lips is soft, and you brush some hair out of his eyes. "Luna can contribute with giggles. The adults will take care of the rest."

“She also blows great raspberries.” He jokes, still slowly caressing your back and hoping this moment never ends.

As if the mention of her name was enough, the sounds of movement from over the baby monitor are nondescript for a minute or so before the soft cooing of a wakening baby turns to the blustering that comes before cries. "Well..." you huff a small laugh and lift yourself up on your elbow. "At least she let us finish."

Frankie laughs and taps your hip. “I’ll get her.” He promises.

"I'm gonna clean up and then I'll meet you downstairs?" The domesticity of the whole thing makes you smile, and you lay back on the pillow again to admire him as he hauls himself out of bed to pull on his boxers and grabs the baby monitor.

Frankie coos when he opens the door, instantly moving over to the crib to get Luna out. “It’s okay, baby girl. Daddy’s gotcha.”

It is okay. Life may not be perfect yet but the promise of it is there. He has you back, he has both of his daughters, and he’s going to make it work this time. You all are. As a family.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer @shakespeareanwannabe

TSR: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @darkheartgatita @anoverwhelmingdin @thisishwrworld

My Masterlist!

[intheholler]

Do you have any tips for being more comfortable using your natural accent in front of people? I was bullied for it as a kid and scrubbed my accent away through teenhood. As an adult, I feel like I still have to put on a neutral accent so people at work won't judge me. I told one of my old bosses that I was from Appalachia and he went on about how he'd seen do many documentaries on Appalachia and what good people we were, but also added that "Wow! I never would have known. You don't have an accent at all. You're so well-spoken!" and it felt bad. I think he had good intentions, but it made me feel like a zoo animal. I always see comments on other Appalachian folks' posts about their accents too, and there's always a handful of jerks who have to say something about their intelligence or make an incest or drug addict "joke".

It all hurts a lot and makes me self-conscious, but I don't want to be this way around my friends. Do you know how I can stop letting peoples' ignorance and classism get to me? Worrying about how I pronounce words or if I'm using region-specific slang all the time is so exhausting.

hi there <3 this is a topic near n dear to my heart because i spent so much of my life trying to avoid sounding appalachian, and the last few years of it desperate to sound so aggressively appalachian that yankees can't understand me, lmao.

that is all to say: this is gonna be long as usual.

first: class solidarity, family <3 this stuff really sucks.

what inspired me to push past the discomfort of using my natural accent after a lifetime of getting rid of it was actually along the lines of what you mentioned: people being shocked that i could be from appalachia, and be articulate at the same time. there are so many nasty, hurtful implications there.

i hate to say it, but there's no easy answer to this.

something in me just… snapped one day about ten years back. i started to look inward, and i discovered this overwhelming pride and passion and love for my home that i had denied myself my whole life, out of fear over how it made me look.

i started doing the self-work and digging deeper into that. it wasn't comfortable, but once i embraced appalachia, i wanted to defend her. the best way to do that for me was to be loud. my pride in where im from outweighed the rest.

maybe you should start there, too. look inward, break down your own subconscious biases about yourself and about our home. find out why you have been made to think this way.

work on loving the appalachian parts of yourself. GET. FUCKING. ANGRY. at those who poisoned your mind with this shit, and use that fury to work on dismantling the beliefs they imposed upon you.

because why shouldn't we talk like our mamas just because some asshole thinks its funny? why should we give up ties to our community and culture, just to be respected? why should every blessed conversation be emotionally and physically taxing just to make a classist more comfortable?

it isn't my shame to carry, and it isn't yours. it is their shame, and their self-work to do. it is not our responsibility to coddle their ignorance. that is on them.

now, when someone hears me talk, it causes a sort of dissonance that they then have to wrestle with. it shifts the discomfort and emotional labor away from me, and puts it on to them instead.

every time i speak proudly, they have to confront themselves and their biases, and how it harms someone that they respect--you.

and if they aren't the kind of person empathetic enough to do that, literally who gives a shit what someone like that thinks about you.

turn those 'jokes' they make about it right back on them:

why is drug addiction funny? why is incest and sexual assault of children funny? why are underfunded schools and a failure to give children across the nation a fair and equal education something to laugh about?

framing it in my mind that i was taking back control in conversations this way helped me speak more comfortably. it made me feel empowered.

i think of it like this: by speaking in my dialect and embodying positive and "unexpected" traits from the region (leftist politics, anti-racism, things like that), i reclaim my power. i use that power to slowly shift the opinions of appalachia with the people i interact with.

it was scary, and it's still scary. but by making a conscious decision every day to speak in our dialect and be courageous even when it's hard, we are reclaiming the parts of ourselves that they took from us. we are bettering the image of the region we love so dearly.

it is INCREDIBLY empowering now to settle into my accent. but it took a LOT of self-work, courage and self-respect to be able to do it.

it ain't easy. i do still struggle with it; i catch myself code switching all the time. i don't think you or me or any of us trying to reclaim our accents will ever fully escape the weight of the classism that dictated our manner of speaking for a huge chunk of our lives, unfortunately.

but if you do that difficult work, it is so, so liberating, family.

you can do it. talk to yourself when you're home alone. let the accent get comfortable again on your tongue. start there, then let that beautiful dialect out for the world to hear <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Is Malleus not that famous in other countries cause in the Scalding Sands event Najma didn't seem to know who he was, there probably aren't many pictures of him around the internet but with how nervous Jamil was getting its weird it didn't cross her, you'd think he'd be pretty well known being the top 5 strongest mage and heir to the throne in Briar Valley

Well 😅 Najma’s just one person, right? I don’t think her specifically not knowing who Malleus is reflects on the average Twisted Wonderland civilian’s knowledge.

With that in mind, there’s actually many reasons why Najma in particular (and/or some other people) may not recognize Malleus:

People don’t always know political figures or figures of prominence in specific circles, especially if it isn’t of interest or of relevance to them. Think about it. Do you know the names and faces of political figures in countries outside of your own? What about specialists (athletes, artists, scientists) in fields you aren’t involved in? Thinking of it like that, it isn’t at all surprising that Najma, doesn’t recognize royalty from another country or highly ranked magicians (when she isn’t shown to be one herself).

Maybe Malleus just hasn’t been mentioned in Najma’s history class yet. For example, in Glorious Masquerade, we learn that Magic History class does not cover certain materials like the accomplishments of the Just Judge until year 2. Therefore, it’s possible that Najma has not yet learned about the Draconias in school. (Alternatively, it’s also possible that non-magic schools skim over notable mages; this would explain why NRC students specifically take Magic History, which I assume focuses on magic and mages, rather than just “History”.)

With how fae aging works, maybe the history books are just not up to date. There is a noted few hundred years of unexplained time between Malleus’s egg existing and it finally hatching when, in reality, it should have only taken a few years for his egg to hatch. It’s also said in book 7 part 4 that none of the history books speak of what happened to Briar Valley’s monarchs (ie Malleus’s parents), and that “the books at home and at the school library don’t mention anything about the Briar Valley’s history”.

It’s difficult to communicate with the Briar Valley. This is very possible, especially seeing as how the country is said to be lacking in way of technological advancements. (STYX is able to contact them, but they’re a secret organization 😂) This would likely mean that historians would have to physically travel far north to personally document Briar Valley themselves—which may be an arduous task, seeing as mirror travel and warp pads are not widely accessible to the general public. Since the Briar Valley is reclusive and even implied to not be accepting of non-fae, it may be even more challenging to get clearance to visit the country. A lot of their history seems to spread mainly by direct word of mouth (as Silver and Sebek imply in book 7; their father and grandfather, respectively, did not either of them about the Draconia family history or about the several years’ period of war Briar Valley went through).

In the actual Scalding Sands event, the visiting NRC students mention that the locals aren’t panicking about Malleus because the head wrap he’s wearing disguises him. Najma also later mistakes his horns as being decorations or fakes. This can easily be explained by the simple fact that… well, celebrities would wear different clothes in public to “blend in” and people wouldn’t recognize them because no one thinks “hey, I’ll run into a super famous person roaming my local market”. If you don’t pay enough attention to something, you may just overlook it. Attention is selective.

Aaaand of course, we have the good old boring explanation of “it’s for plot convenience, don’t question it” 😂

Personally, I think the “the history books just don’t talk about it” explanation is the most accurate, as there’s actual strong narrative implications of it in the main story; however, it’s possible that the real reason is a combination of all of these.

[keeksandgigz]

a shot in the darkest dark

steve harrington x commitment issues! fem!reader

i fucking love writing angst and this is also my very first steve work! tiny little blurbie for now cause I've been obsessed w Steve and this song

cw: unrequited love, reader has committment issues, one instance of self deprecating language, no physical description of reader, just lots of rly sad stuff

word count: 1.5K

"Awww, Steve, look! It's such a nice desk" you'd said, pointing at an oakwood desk while absentmindedly looking at furniture at a big Indianapolis mall.

Steve seemed to be in his own world, as he paced around the aisles, looking at tables, chairs, patio decor. He'd taken you out of Hawkins for the day, a little date that didn't involve movies or aimlessly walking around the small downtown area.

You hadn't been dating for too long, and to your wishes, he was taking things slow with you. You'd been so lovely to him, though and him to you.

He'd take you out on dates and pay the bill, drive you around when you needed to clear your head and kiss you goodnight at your doorstep. It was too good to be true.

For the past six months, Steve Harrington had been at your beck and call at every hour of every day, eager to see you, be with you, literally do anything as long as it was with you.

His only flaw was falling in love too fast.

"Oh yeah, it's really nice. I can get it for our first apartment" he dug into your side, smiling. The future was all he worried about, his beautiful picket- fence dream that he'd always wanted.

It made you uncomfortable, how easily he was able to talk about moving in together, starting a family, getting married. Your mind didn't work like that. You took a step away from him, an awkward laugh escaping you.

"I need to get a scarf, it's starting to get cold in Hawkins, come with me?" you'd said, swallowing the guilt that came from dismissing his dreams.

You'd thought you could have made it work. Steve was a lovely guy, so devoted to you he'd damn year kiss and worship the ground you walked on. But everything was too good. It wasn't something you thought you deserved.

You'd paid close attention to him, for any flaw that could have given you an excuse to go, but he was too perfect.

"Yeah, uh- of course, honey. Maybe we should come here during Christmas, I heard they do some really nice markets. I could get you something nice" he'd suggested, putting his arm around you. You breathed through your nose.

"Yeah- yeah that sounds nice." You whispered, as you walked over to Sears.

The day went about the same after that. He'd come across a little baby onesie with stars on them.

"Look honey, isn't it so cute?" he smiled. You had to hold back a grimace at his implication.

He looked at the window of a real estate agency, taking account of what a four bedroom home in Idianapolis would cost. Planning to save his money from his shiny new accounting firm job.

"Ooh" he cooed "that house is real nice, don't you think baby?" he pointed at a white picket- fence light blue home with a big front yard.

"Yeah, it's really nice" you said "Steve, I'm kinda tired. Can we go home?" you'd protested, hoping he'd just drop you at your house and you could cry it out, wondering what was wrong with you for not wanting what many girls your age wanted. Stability. A family.

"For sure, honey. Want to stay over at mine's? We can grab a movie and get some pizza or something" he said, kissing your temple.

The fact that he was okay with you taking your time didn't mean that he took his. He was a speeding train running at full speed ahead, while you felt like you were biking behind him, feeling left out from this feeling of love and devotion that he continuously showed you.

"Uh, no, thank you, Steve. I have work in the morning" you lied. You didn't want to see him. The guilt would have only grown stronger, until you could not have taken it anymore.

The drive home was surprisingly quiet. Steve chalked it up to you being tired. He knew crowded places overwhelmed you.

After an hour and a half of complete silence, he pulled up in the street where you lived.

"Oh look, baby, a dog! I've always wanted one like that, maybe we can get one-"

"Steve just fucking stop it!" you'd interrupted him, banging on the dashboard. He braked hard in the middle of the empty street.

"Jesus, babe, what's wrong?" he said "Sorry for braking this hard" as he parked up the curb.

You breathed "Sorry, Steve. I-I can't do this." you whispered.

You breathed "Sorry, Steve. I can't do this. This is moving so incredibly fast” you exhaled, letting the boulder weighing on your chest slowly crumble, and you with it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m not sure I understand. Can’t do what?” he said, nearing his head towards yours. Wanting to be close to you, wanting to hear your thoughts. You retracted from him, now heaving.

The air in the car felt so incredibly stuffy as you unfastened your seatbelt and got out, heading towards your front porch. He followed you suit, cursing yourself for wanting to let him go.

You were leading him on with false hopes of a future you didn't want. You needed to free him before it was too late. The crisp November air turned your breaths into vapor, tinging your noses red. He'd forgotten his coat in the car.

"I just- I can't do this. I can't do us. This is... too much. The moving in and the house and the kids and the dog and the family stuff. I can't Steve I don't want this" you rambled. And that's when the waterworks started. Mascara running down your cheeks, loud sobs populating the otherwise quiet cul de sac.

He got closer to you, but you backed away once again. He didn't need to be that close, not when you were trying to let him go.

"Baby... what- I- I had no idea, I just- I" he was helplessly stuttering. Your chest was aching watching his eyes gloss over ever so slightly, you swore you could hear his heart break.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I tried. I tried so incredibly hard to see what you saw and I fucking hate myself for not being able to. You're so great, you've been such a lovely boyfriend and I need you to know, because I don't wanna lead you on. I care so much about you but-"

"You don't love me" he interrupted you. A whisper. Barely audible, but loud enough that you could hear the hurt in his voice "It's been six months. You don't love me?" he continued. A breath caught in your throat as you tried to answer that you did try, you did care for him.

You just didn't love him how he did. You knew you were doomed since you'd started going out.

The world went quiet, but not in your ears, a loud whistle kept you on alert, wishing you could crawl inside and hide under your bed forever.

Steve's eyes became clouded with tears as the silence between you became the loudest response he could have ever gotten.

He didn't want to let you go, but being led on for six months had hurt more than he'd expected. He wanted you to tell him that this was just a silly joke, to come inside, cuddle and watch a movie.

Steve waited. He waited for a negation, for an I love you, Steve. An affirmation that never came as you looked at him. You felt embarrassed and he felt like you'd stabbed him.

He was the first to break the silence.

"So I guess it's over then" he croaked out, a burning ball lodged in his throat that didn't allow him to speak. Or breathe for that matter.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I just- I didn't want to lie to you any longer. Even if I loved you, I'm not good for you. All I'm gonna do is pull you back from this great dream you have. You can't have a picket fence with me, I'll only tear it down. And you can't just put it back up, Steve" you said, taking as many steps back to get away from him. From the guilt of losing him.

"I'll put up as many picket fences as you need. I just want you" he pleaded, one last prayer. Don't go.

"I'm sorry, Steve. Please go home. You're gonna get sick" your voice a thin iron string settled in between your throat. You loved him, but didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve him.

And so Steve turned around, grabbing his broken heart off the floor. You watched him from your driveway, quiet, with his head hung low. A love like his should not have gone wasted on someone like you.

Steve reached his car door, looking at you for one last time, eyes watery and dark. Hoping, praying for your thin voice to speak up, to tell him to come back to your driveway. Tell him to stay.

Don't go.

[frogsgrotto]

The Unspoken Social Ostrization of a Restricted Diet

Support for The Difficult One at the dinner party

Folks with dietary restrictions know the feeling of dread sitting at the dinner table for a celebration, holiday, or social gathering. There’s the factual truth that you might have to bring safe food, eat beforehand, or ask the cook a lot of questions. That stuff adds up on its own, trust. However, aside from the logistical inconveniences, there’s the watching eyes of people who have never felt fear or anxiety eating out or eating another cook’s meal. It happens to me almost every time I eat out or go to a gathering, or even just show up at work. Food is a social activity connected to tradition, family, community, and connection. When your relationship with food is strained or unique, you feel it emotionally and socially as well as physically. Let's talk about it. I'll talk a bit about my experiences and how everyone in situations like this can learn to adjust.

Understandably, when it doesn’t affect you, and you don’t have to spend time thinking about it, its hard to understand something unfamiliar. I can’t say I was very conscious of dietary restrictions before I started my elimination diet, even when my own mom was gluten free and encouraging me to do the same. We have genetic problems in our family that were just enough cause for me to try being gluten free. We found out about this when I was pretty young, about 11. My mom has been gluten free since then. I didn’t try until I was about 15-16, and even then it was on and off for a bit before I really stuck to it. I’m 22 now, and have been gluten free among other things for a good few years now. 

Especially as a child, though, I wasn’t very sympathetic to dietary restrictions. I didn’t want my mom or anyone else with allergies to be sick, but I felt a lot of anger and fear about restricting my diet. I didn’t want to learn or think about it because I didn’t want that to be my life. Bread is good, and everyone knows that. I’m older now and I understand why my mom and myself have to have a different diet than other people. It’s hard when you’re in middle school and you feel so sick all the time and the supposed solution involves missing out on fun parts of childhood though. There were cakes and pizzas and cookies and I was supposed to turn them away. I hated the idea of that. A lot of people do- especially kids. A lot of sensitivities can affect your mood, and it’s already hard to understand your big feelings as a kid. It’s important to remember that when dealing with dietary restrictions in kids. I recently spoke to a gluten free mom about how her son didn’t want to be gluten free. He was 12 at the time, the same age I was when the idea was first introduced to me. We talked about those big feelings, and I explained how I wasn’t ready at that age to restrict my diet, and the more people pushed me, the less I wanted to do it. He was in the same position I was in where these food things weren’t killing him, but they were making him sick. I told her about how I came around on my own when I got tired of being sick. I’m not a mother and I don’t claim to have parenting tricks or anything, I just wanted to share my perspective because I understood where that kid was coming from. It doesn’t sound glamorous when people start talking about bringing alternative treats to birthday parties. It was a good conversation that I think of fondly. Part of the connecting experience of food is understanding other people’s perspectives. Many a mother and child relationship are strained by food things, and we should always strive to close the gap. Being a kid and having feelings about food is a whole beast that could be discussed later though. 

My point is I understood at that age what the social implications were of being different, even if I didn’t have the words for it. Yes, I wanted the cupcakes. I also didn’t want to have to say no, explain myself, and be left out of a group experience. Children and adults alike can be upset by this. I think it’s normal, and something that takes some getting used to. 

Things are different for me now. I am gluten, dairy, egg, and soy free (and that’s the paraphrased list I tell people when asked. Theres about 15 more items I can’t eat or can’t eat very often). I was 16 when I was allergy tested, and shortly after that I committed to my new diet. Since doing so, my life has changed in so many ways. I have a lot more good days and less anxiety surrounding eating now, but there’s still hard days.

 I am a very social person, and enjoy going out and connecting with people. Most people do enjoy those things. Now, though, going out to dinner is a task. It’s not necessarily a chore (I still want to be invited to dinner guys) but it means I need to do a few things to ensure I am safe, cared for, and healthy. I try to do all these things without disturbing others, but its hard when most restaurants aren’t accommodating to my allergies. Getting invited somewhere and having follow up questions and restrictions can make people feel controlled, policed, and stifled. I understand it’s not easy for anyone involved. I’ll talk about some of the solutions I have for eating in groups successfully in a bit, but I want to touch more on what goes on with the people around you.

It’s not reasonable to ask people to drastically change their plans to accommodate someone else, generally speaking. I get that. Some people will accommodate, some people won’t. It’s the kind thing in most situations to slightly inconvenience yourself to make someone else feel welcome, and it’s what I believe in. That doesn’t change the fact that some people will never do that. In my teen years especially I experienced so much shyness, embarrassment, and anxiety when I would have to ask for accommodations. I was angry a lot of the time and felt like my family and friends didn’t care how hard it was for me to be involved. To be fair, I had some friends that were less than helpful, but my family and select friends that have stood the test of time have always been helpful and conscious. I know that’s more than a lot of people ever get. My family and friends have made mistakes that made me sick, but with time it becomes much less of a risk. Both parties had a lot to learn, and I navigate my restrictions much better than I used to. 

I am so blessed to have a rich community of people who love me and care to know what I need to be nourished and happy. I’ve spent a long time building this community and I am so grateful. Never forget the people in your life that stop to think of you and your health. There will always be people out there who don’t understand and will not be sensitive or conscious of your safety. I used to hold a lot of anger for those people but I choose to let it go now. It’s not always easy, and it doesn’t have to come naturally, but I am much happier focusing on the beautiful people in my life who are dedicated to our relationship and connection. 

Let’s talk about how it can be easier. I don’t want to spend too much time talking about the ways people will make me feel uncomfortable, but it’s important to identify the behavior. If you’re trying to support someone in your life, it’s good to know what to avoid. Most of what I’m about to call out isn’t malicious, and it’s ok if you’ve made mistakes. What’s important is that you’re willing to move on, learn, and be open minded. 

Things to avoid doing when dealing with dietary restriction in a group setting:

Offering unsolicitated advice

“Have you tried this for that? My sister’s coworker had a lot of success with it”

“I read somewhere that that doesn’t work”

You might be in a situation where having a conversation about someone’s condition is appropriate but don’t come out the gates offering advice. When you live in your body usually you can tell what’s going on with it the best.

Emphasizing or gawking at the circumstances

“How do you live like that? I could never do that!”

“Wow what CAN you eat?”

“Oh you poor poor thing”

“I would kill myself/die if I couldn’t eat that!” (Yes, someone has said this to me on more than one occasion)

Generally just making a big deal out of it can make someone feel embarrassed and upset. Sure, you would kill yourself if you couldn’t eat chocolate but this is my life and I’m actively trying to make the best of it. It’s insensitive to say things like that when it’s my every day reality. Do you think I should kill myself? 

Asking invasive questions

“What even happens if you eat that?” 

“Why can’t you eat that?” 

Most people don’t want to talk about violently shitting themselves, throwing up, or migraines at a dinner party. Some people might want to share that but it’s rude to ask.

Brushing off safety information

“Oh, you’ll be fine it only has a little”

“I’m sure it’s fine” or  “”it’s probably okay right?”

“I thought it would be okay just this once”

If someone has brought up a concern, don’t disregard it without saying anything. Always be upfront about the ingredients in something. 

Pushing the topic after being given an explanation or answer

“You can’t eat this? Oh please have this or this or this instead” 

Repeatedly apologizing or asking questions when told no thank you after being  offered something. I can usually tell if I need to not eat anything at an event to be safe, and while I appreciate that people want to find solutions, offering me anything and everything is not the solution when I politely decline something. It’s just tedious and I have to refuse more and more things.

Making it about yourself

“I would die” 

“I would hate that” 

“I could never do that”

This has a lot of overlap in the other bulletpoints, but generally avoid bringing your feelings and thoughts about someone else’s experiences when they didn’t ask. It’s cool to relate to others, but it’s not cool to insert yourself into someone’s narrative. You can think to yourself that you would never want to do that, but again, its my reality and I’m making the best of it. 

That was more than I thought it would be. Every example is something someone has said to me before though in some shape or form. It might seem like a lot, and honestly it kind of is. I’ve had years to compile examples. A lot of people haven’t had to think about life with dietary restrictions, so they don’t know how to be sensitive. That’s okay! What’s not okay is being content with this behavior and continuing when you can learn how to better support others. With a bit of thought it’s not hard to be more conscientious. 

I’ve split up these things to do into two parts. Check it out. There will be a lot of mention of my wonderful best friend and my boyfriend, who are both actively involved in my life and therefore eat with me a lot.

Things you can do as someone with dietary needs to make eating out easier

Know the name of the game

Are you going somewhere with options for you? Find the restaurants menu, ask the host, and prepare for a situation where you might need to fill in the gaps. If you were invited as a plus one, see if the inviter can find out what the situation/menu is

Set your expectations for success. Do not assume there will be something and be disappointed. This leads into my next point;

Be prepared

If you know you will need to, eat before or bring prepared food. Most of this stuff is just the logistics but it can help a social situation go much more smoothly. 

Check the menu at restaurants and plan for any adjustments to item menus and if they will be possible. Call ahead if you have questions for restaurants. I almost always call to see if their fries are gluten-free.

Something I do is make a plan to pick up something afterward if going to a party or dinner where I know there will be no or little accommodation. My boyfriend and I do this often and I will eat a snack at the event, and then we pick something up on the way home

Make a list of safe restaurants and foods to present to a group if asked about accommodations. “Here are a few options that are safe for me if you would consider any of these” 

Be okay with being different

It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. My roommate and I eat out together quite often and when we go to pick up food sometimes we just stop at 2 places.

People are always going to misunderstand or judge you. What matters is your health and safety. 

Sometimes people will not want to make accommodations or there will not be any. Take pride in taking care of yourself and respecting your needs. This might even mean leaving a situation, but could just mean accepting the situation and making alternative plans. 

Be prepared to reject

For me, one of the hardest parts of these occasions is saying no. This gets its own bullet point because it’s hard for a lot of people. 

“No thank you, but I appreciate the thought” this is my go-to, because it lets people know I know they thought of me and want to give me a treat or a meal, but that I can’t accept it and it’s okay. It might look more like “I appreciate you thinking of me” as well. 

People might make it hard to say no. I have mildly poisoned myself to avoid saying no but it is not worth it. Respect your body and stick to your guns. It doesn’t hurt anyone to not consume something, but it can hurt you to consume something you shouldn’t. If people don’t understand that it’s not personal, it is not your responsibility to appease them. 

Things you can do to support someone with dietary needs

Ask how you can help

“How can I help?” 

Sometimes, it’s really as simple as that. The answer is often simple. Maybe a different mexican restaurant nearby has better accommodations, maybe you can just stop by a safe restaurant on the way home. It doesn’t have to be a lot of work. People just want to be considered, and just knowing you’re in their corner is helpful. Sometimes the answer is "Thank you, but don't worry about it". Then it might be best not to make a big deal out of it.

Write things down

If someone tells you a list of items or rules they need to follow, just jot it down. It’s very common for people to forget or ask repeatedly and while this is fine for an aquaintence, you can show support to a close friend, partner, or family member by not asking them to repeat themselves. You only have to do this once to have the information forever, so why not? 

Respect boundaries

If someone wants to opt out of eating something or going to an event due to restrictions, strive to understand why. Try imagining yourself in their shoes. Sometimes, you just don’t want to do something. That’s okay. 

Take no for an answer

If you offer someone something and they decline, it’s okay. Your homemade cookies are a very nice thought and if you didn’t know someone couldn’t eat them, that’s okay. There’s no need to apologize, especially repeatedly. For me personally, I prefer when people don’t make a big deal out of the situation. I appreciate when people want to give me things, and I understand why I can’t accept them. It’s nobody’s fault. 

A personal preference of mine is that people do not bake or cook for me. Occasionally my close family, boyfriend, and best friend will, but they have spent a long time working to understand the rules I operate under. I have had a lot of people offer to make things to accommodate me for events and such, but I prefer to make it myself. It’s not personal, I just have a laundry list of needs and I have accidentally been hurt by myself and my family. It’s just a lot of things and I don’t like explaining the intricacies of it when a mistake could still be made or cross-contamination could still happen in an unfamiliar kitchen. No hard feelings!

I think that’s about it for my first post. I’m having a hard day in my body today and I want to reach out to people like me. Please interact I would be happy to chat or answer questions! 

[wheelercore]

I want. I want to talk about Victor Creel. Because we see a lot of his actions from Henry's perspective, and Henry being only 12 at the time I think it clouds a lot of what he says about him. Also I love making shit up about minor characters.

Henry viewed Victor as naive and a bit clueless and maybe stupid. Understandable, as Henry might have a lot of anger for him due to him never seeing Virginia's abuse of Henry. Never seeing Virginia as the "true" demon of the house instead opting to put the blame on a abstract concept of a demon haunting their home. A parent who overlooks or genuinely does not see the abuse the other parent is perpetuating upon their child in their own home is an of itself a form of horrible neglect.

There is also this righteous anger in Henry for Victor also because of his actions in the past, particularly during his service in the military which is shown as a baby burning in it's cradle- but I'm sure Victor has seen much more horrible horrible things during the war and subsequently feels massive guilt for.

Henry over the course of the season showed people the sides of themselves that they actively hid, holding a mirror to them. Victor was actively hiding this part of him, the part that is riddled with guilt and trauma for the things he saw and did during the war. I've seen this discussed before, but there seems to be this heavy implication that Victor has PTSD.

Victor's actions seemed to be naive and clueless from Henry's standpoint because Henry, being 12 and this being the 50s, has very little concept of post traumatic stress disorder. Hell, in s2 Owns mentions PTSD specifically in reference to Will saying that theyre just now learning more about it almost decades after WW2 when Victor served. Hopper mentions some of his war buddies who suffer from similar symptoms, in reference to Vietnam, and in s4 Hopper speaks more about his experiences surrounding the war and it's effects on him + how that bled into his family life (this being a bit more physical rather than mental with the death of his daughter).

I think that moment for Hopper was an intentional mirror to Victor. It's using a physical ailment (his exposure to whatever chemical it was that got carried in him caused his daughter to get sick) as an allegory for Victor's mental ailment that he carried with him from the war to his family. Hoppers daughter that got sick is a mirror to the effect Victor's emotional neglect and blindness towards Virginia's abuse had on Henry.

Victor was emotionay withdrawn, most likely dealing with his own issues and not connecting with Henry. Most likely overworking himself as a negative coping tactic and therefore never being home enough to witness Virginia's abuse of Henry, or being too tired when he got home to notice. Avoiding people, including friends and family, is also another symptom of PTSD to avoid stressors- and also again could contribute to Victor being oblivious to Henry's issues.

But what I think is the biggest indicator? We know it was Henry all along, and it was real, but the way Victor speaks about the "demon" that he is convinced was haunting his home. How he can feel it, how it's always around him, always there haunting him and his family. He couldn't tell it was Henry (or anything going on that was related to Henry), because he was consumed by this idea of a foreign malevolent being in every nick and cranny. Him constantly being on guard, and it sounds frankly like paranoia.

When we get that shot of Victor sitting out on the porch with a shotgun in his hand, despite the fact that the "demon" is inside the house and Victor believes this. At night, when he should be sleeping or getting ready for bed, he's outside watching out for other forces that could harm his family- most likely because the events inside the house were triggering his PTSD and now he saw dangers inside and out of his home. Or, just as bad, this was something he did regularly regardless of whether he was convinced he was being haunted or not.

But I think it's overlooked a lot because Victor does not display, at least not from what we've seen, "stereotypical" symptoms of PTSD in media (ie often harmful). Especially with how afflicted veterans are often portrayed in media. It's subtle and Victor is portrayed as this clueless, naive, and even a bit pathetic man to the point where Henry himself believed it because that's how Victor portrayed himself as his way of toeing the line of conformity.

And we know st loves to play with perspectives and how characters are portrayed.

[subiysu-chan]

What if Bellatrix Lestrange had a daughter the same age as the Golden Trio, and who became the forth member of their Group

Okay, so the implications.

How this daughter would come to be, is rather easy. Voldemort plans to be immortal, and saving that immortality for himself. Meaning, he would have to eventually replace his army, and thus, it is in his interest that the Death Eaters have children to ensure a new generation of groomable youths to serve him. Bellatrix is absessed with Voldemort, and Rodolphus was loyal enough to go to Azkaban for him also, although not that much of a fanatical nutcase. Also, given how large the Lestrange Vault is, they can surely afford whatever physical treatment is needed if something is preventing them from doing the do, exept if that thing is psychotherapy, for example, Rodolphus being an exclusive necrophile (my personal headcanon) and Bellatrix being grossed out by it (not morally, but I don't think even she would be willing to take a d-ck that has been in something not quite fresh). I think a love potion would be a good explanation, with Rodolphus consuming it willingly per order of his master.

So, Rodolphus and Bellatrix plan the conception so that the birthdate is anything but July.

I really don't see the fate of the Longbottoms changing that much, since I don't think motherhood would exactly soften Bellatrix, and if she's willing to go to Azkaban, I don't think recovering from a baby would be that much of a deterent. With Rodolphus, there is even less obstacles.

With how many members of the Slytherin gang either dead or in Azkaban, and members of the Black family, it would leave the options for next of kin: Lestrange Sr and/or any potencial wife he may have, Narcissa Malfoy née Black and her husband Lucius Malfoy, maybe Selwyn the Death Eater and maybe Severus Snape (although, I doubt he was the top candidate for Godfather). Most Squibs that we know of their family lineage were not Pureblood at all, and both her parents are reasonably powerful. Which means Dumbledore would probably try to make sure she doesn't become like her parents, otherwise, they are in trouble. However, all things considered, I think Lestrange Sr and or his wife would raise mini-Lestrange daughter. We don't know if Rabastan had any children, but he could have. So, she might have grown up with cousins. Since the result of Lestrange Sr's education is two Death Eaters who ended up 14 years in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottoms to insanity, we could safely assume that her childhood was probably not good. Also, even Purebloods on the light consider child endangerment to be normal (poor Neville), and from what we see of Sirius, who grew up in a household of pureblood dark mages, yikes. Hogwarts has impossible to remember passages that always move, expect naturally students to be on time, but they don't put in systems so that at least the first years are escorted to class ? And then detention...Because, logic. The only teacher somewhat concerned for student safety is Snape, who's also a huge jerk.

So yeah, not a fun childhood for the Lestrange girl.

So, Harry would probably meet her on the train. I don't think she would signifcantly alter the plot until book five. A little addition would be that she would have a strong intolerence for cafeine, mostly thanks to her psychosomatic symptoms. Maybe she would distract Macnair or something, but once Bellatrix and Rodolphus are out of prison, that's when the plot really would change. She would probably be kindnapped by some death eaters, probably her parents, and while they would be somewhat still recovering their skills and health, I think they could have some bonding time. Plus, being raised by elderly, some adventure would be a nice change...They would probably talk extensively about how great to be...I think as a way to groom her into joining their cause, one of them would tell her to open their vault so that, telling her to buy all the merlap essence, camomille tea and soothing creams she could need for the rest of the year.

Not sure about the rest, though.

[foster-the-moths]

u have some awesome dreams . give me them👁️ njkhdcjd actually tho of the three i remember u sharing it's interestign that all three involved you being some sort of whimsical creature (i'm counting altsar as a whimsical little beast he's very silly and fun to m e)

WOOO YEAH i love talking about my dreams they are so Strange um putting all of these under the readmore bc. they are so fucked up sometimes SJFLDJFLJSJF these ones are more horror oriented bc those are some of my favorite ones. i am just listing 4 for now, because this post got very long. i can post more of them later maybe. i have a LOT more but these are just semi-recent ones i can access easily.

warning for descriptions of body horror, gore, injury, death, and parasites (big maggot) and images of body horror and parasites.

1: had a dream a was a little victorian boy (like 3 or something) on vacation with my family and we were on a train but oops!!! we got on the demon train by accident. the conductor surgically removed all of the skin off my face, taxidermied it, sewed it back on, and then sent me to a shadow mirror realm for 18 years. i got back to the Real realm and it turns out it had only been 3 years for my family; but they had still all been distorted beyond recognition and made into worse versions of themselves. my father had turned into a weird goat man, my mother resembled a deep sea fish, and i couldn't remember what happened to my sister or brother. they also didn't recognize me because i had aged 18 years. the rest of the dream was me trying to reverse their transformations.

2: had another one in which i was trapped in an extra-dimensional liminal space that changed and grew as i explored it. It had video game physics which is always fun. when i walked there was view-bobbing and my hands were always visible in front of me, like a first person shooter. i could also sprint jump and b-hop and side sprint and stuff like that. there were also small creatures that latched onto me and tried to kill me, but my hands were extremely lethal (they caused instant burning pain to whatever they touched, and if i pressed my hands against a living thing it would 'melt') so i was able to fend them off. this meant i was basically unbeatable, but could still be hurt.

^this is vaguely what i looked like. i could only see my hands but i'm pretty sure the rest of me wasn't 100% human. i'll draw something better later maybe.

3. a more tame one i had recently was i got trapped in a fantasy video game by accident and ended up in a village that used pinecones as currency. so i had to grow pine trees. and then this other guy started growing saplings on MY farm plot and i was PISSED. he showed me his farming techniques though so i let him stay. time passed very quickly, each hour was a new season, so four hours was a 'year'. i did not realize the implications of this until about two weeks (about 80 'years') had passed. the npc villagers started aging and disappearing and the guy who i planted trees with turned to face me and his face was rotting away. he told me i took too long.

4. less tame one. I had a giant maggot parasite that replaced all of my organs and it tried to control me via telepathic mind battle?? but. i won the telepathic mind battle. so now i WAS the maggot. and i was piloting my own body with weird nerve things and instead of organs there was just a giant maggot in my abdomen but i WAS the maggot and i could feel myself inside of myself. it was like if you could feel your organs against the inside of your skin. incredibly unpleasant sensation. i had to hide the fact that i was a maggot because usually the maggot wins the psychic mind battle and kills people so if my doctors found out i had a maggot parasite in me they would kill me.

^diagram of parasite in the body. the red is the 'nerves' used to control the body. the brain of the host and parasite become merged, which is how i 'became' the maggot. the maggot could also like. climb up the throat and peek its head out of the host's mouth to maul people with its fangs.

[jaimesrighthand]

hotd is coming back soon and my desire to reread my favourite asoiaf fanfic is back with a vengeance.

anyways here are the bits of this chapter that make me lose my mind upon rereading (and lots of thinking about our doe):

"Queen Cersei decides who her family is, whether or not her blood commands it so"- i just... theres a reason that one fanart used this as a caption if i recall correctly. doe baby come here im giving a big hug.

"You knew... deep down... but you never wanted to believe it until the truth came roaring back at you in the future."- use of roaring here is iconic, zoomorphism always adds a kick. The thing about this line that drives me crazy is the implications for her relationship with Jaime. We know that she's close to both her uncles and there's a lot of lore with Tyrion (beloved relationship there!), but i have soooo many thoughts about jaime and her. clearly, it seems that cersei didn't push jaime away from leyla as she did his children for cersei reasons which adds another level of lannister craziness to their relationship.

"sweet Uncle Tyrion"- love doe for being the only pov to use that adjective for tyrion.

"ou rode either on your horse gifted to you by your Uncle Jaime or in the wheelhouse with your mother and younger siblings"- see how those two groups are directly contrasted, with doe being the bridgeway of sorts. i need to drink this juicy dynamic like sweetwine.

"Unashamed of standing beside the Kingslayer"- this and the line where he kisses her cheek and helps her down her horse are so fulfilling jaime's young aspirations of that conventional view of knighthood. its like doe is a reflection of the goodness of their character ugh help i cant take this!

"'Princess,' Robb takes your hand and places a gentle kiss over your knuckles, causing your fingers to tingle."- oh our sweet babies have no idea what lays ahead of them teehee

"You’ve been spending far too much time with your Uncle Tyrion if you take Robb Stark’s small talk as an innuendo."- see what happens when you let tyrion of all people parent your child, cersei. tsk tsk tsk. oh the humanity!

“My Uncle Jaime gave her to me. We named her Fawn.”- WE? WE? oh dear the symbolic significance of jaime helping name the horse after the baratheon sigil rather than the lannister one is so dear to me.

"You were always the wedge between your parents"- my poor baby

"the Queen Cersei only smiled with anticipation at you as she brushed her fingers through your hair, the alien motion driving you into shock."-physical affection from her mother being so rare to the point where it elicits a trauma response out of her makes me want to flip a table. oh the tragedy of it all

"Your mother did once.

And how sorely did Father disappoint her. "- robert can be viewed as the fulcrum of her tragedy as a character, but its also haunting how she has parallels to her mother as a character. Then again, that is partially Cersei's fault but thats a next chapter thing.

Black of Hair (Part One)

(Gif not mine)

Request: “Hi! So I had this idea for an imagine/fanfic (whatever you want) in my head where Robert and Cersei have one true born child together (so not Cersei’s and Jaime’s kids, they still exist though) and since Cersei kinda sees her as a threat cause she’s the rightful heir she wants her married off as soon as possible; and Robert and her decide that she has to be married of to Robb and the daughter and Robb fall in love, thank you!💕” from @fuckoffupstairs 

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Ship: Robb Stark x Female!Reader

Tags: black of hair got

Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request! Sorry it took so long for me to get to, but once I sat down to write it I just couldn’t stop! My fingers were ready to fall off!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

Keep reading

[elsaqueenofstress]

FAR too many people are going "allison has always been EVIL and VILLAINOUS and DESPICABLE!!!!" sorry, you're shaking and screaming because she rumored her way into being famous as an adult?? (sorry that she was girlbossing while your fave umbrellas were flopping at the violin/banished to the moon/stuck in an apocalypse/dead/whatever). you're pissed because her abusive father forced her to rumor her sibling when she was all of five years old?? you're horrified because she began using her rumors for violence.......against vitriolic racists and a bunch of guys who broke into her house to murder her? there are two serious things that people get upset about but even then: you're mad she ~maybe~ rumored her husband (and she is a verrry different character here than in the comics so please think before using that as reasoning) into loving her, and because she rumored her daughter to go to bed?

please be serious and consider why you're so mad at her for her past actions and why every scene of her siblings causing mass destruction and murder was turned into an #iconic "omg they went feral 😍" moment. let's talk being mean to your siblings! let's talk body counts! let's talk immoral and dangerous activities! then let's talk about how all of her brothers have done those things, and tua fans eat it up because they're charming white guys with funny one-liners. female villains are great but writers NEED to consider the implications of having a cast full of male characters for viewers to fawn over ("the himbo energy!!" "the chaotic vibes!!" "the bisexual implications!!" or whatever the fuck) and essentially one female lead, a woman of color, whose suffering is never given the empathy it deserves.

consider how much better the season would have been if we were allowed to recognize allison's pain – that she was the only person alive who knew what her daughter was like, and she'd never be able to see her again – and understand what would drive her to make a deal that reset everything just to bring her back. consider a storyline where her trauma from living in the heavily segregated south, and experiencing verbal and physical assault for her race, hadn't been treated with exactly one brief conversation followed by a barely-shown bar fight that was depicted as a sinister, unhealthy lashing out of a crazy woman in the next episode. consider how we could have been able to empathize with allison AND give her a villain/betrayal arc. compare her season full of being mean and reserved and angry for oh so silly reasons – sorry about your dead people! sorry about your trauma! however it isn't unique enough for us to care about, so please get over it! – with the storylines her siblings got: learning to strengthen your abilities! being the competent backbone of your family while grappling with your mortality! having a crush! going on wacky parental adventures! and so on.

what allison did to luther WAS horrible. haven't seen anyone try and dispute that. the point is that it was included for the sole purpose of confirming to viewers that allison is now (and hey, maybe always has been?) bitter and evil and an inflictor of pain, someone who would dare to hurt her brother, who is goofy and lovestruck and just radiates that precious himbo energy, in the cruelest way possible. it was, at the expense of her growth (growth her brothers receive time and time again), proof that this grieving woman was the villain now, that she was irrational, that she needed to be rooted against completely. and there's no way anyone writing this could have thought it would be comprehended otherwise

[legobiwan]

Tales of the Jedi 1:3 "Choices"

I'M FLIPPING OUT HERE

Just...my gods, there is a lot in this episode

Okay, okay - first of all, I do love Mace and Dooku's interactions here. Mace obviously respects, although doesn't always agree, with Dooku. But! Despite registering his protest to Dooku's so-called "interference," he also doesn't prevent Dooku from carrying out that investigation. The whole breakdown really happens when Mace inadvertently kills that one guard in self defence (I guess you could read it, from Mace's point of view, that this is what happens when the Jedi veer from their directives, from their rules. Innocent lives are lost and I don't think that death rested easy on Mace's conscience. And you could imagine him doubling down on the rules after that incident and inheriting Katri's seat due to the events just prior to that incident. Not to say that this is the entire reason Mace is rule-bound - it's certainly not - but it probably caused him to dig in a little more, especially during his initial tenure as a Council Member.)

ANYWAY, getting back to Dooku.

I thought this line was hilarious and my gods, is this man the teacher of Rael Averross and Qui-gon Jinn, or WHAT?

Can you imagine him saying the EXACT SAME THING to a young Obi-wan? BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL CAN!!!!!!!!!

The line about not getting involved in local political skirmishes without approval from the Council or Senate is fascinating. Just much autonomy do the Jedi have out there? You know Dooku disagrees with this philosophy and thinks the Jedi could do more but being an arm of the Senate - which they absolutely are at this point, involvement in "local politics" could upset the status quo, for both good and ill. Obviously, the death of Katri was something the corrupt Senator did not want investigated and he assumed it wouldn't be as it's probably well-known the Jedi cannot interfere as their own political arm...a philosophy that has two sides in that no, you can't save everyone but at the same time, at what point do you end up being the "lapdogs and enforcers" of the corrupt, rich and powerful?

Alright, I have to spend a moment talking about Dooku: Space Detective because this is 100% a precursor to Obi-wan Kenobi: Space Detective. The way they investigate their physical environments! Ask logical questions! LOOK AT THIS!

This is all to say we need an AU of Dooku and Obi-wan quitting the order to open up a Space Detective Agency because COULD. YOU. IMAGINE??? (And to make one more point, the opening of this episode reminded me a lot of the opening of the Utapau arc. Retrieving a dead Jedi body, a mysterious murder, etc.)

THAT MAKASHI THOUGH LOOK AT THIS MAN GO! THE BEHIND THE BACK DEFLECTION, THE THE RESET TO THE MAAKSHI SALUTE, BEST SABER FORM EVER HE TOTALLY SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT OBI-WAN TO MAKASHI

And also - the absolute control, strength, and focus it must take to do all this ONE-HANDED. With limited acrobatics. (Unlike Mace). INCREDIBLE.

One of the interesting facets of Dooku I feel isn't talked about enough is the fact that he comes from this patrician background. Is Serennian royalty. AND YET, his largest concern is the way in which the Order, to his mind, is abandoning planets and beings to serve the interests of the rich and powerful. Is it because he was forsaken by Serenno, by his family? (Which works both in the EU and Canon backstories). And then he returns to Serenno to claim that title and become one of the rich and the powerful (and yes, to a certain degree, corrupt). It's really a fascinating arc and one I'd like to tease out a little further to really get at all possible implications and motivations.

I also found the statement he made to the Raxxian prisoner that his people shouldn't "evolve" to be a precise and odd choice of wording. Dooku is a man of precision who wields his words as well as his lightsaber. "Evolve" is such an interesting term to use. Is this meant to contrast with the Jedi and the Senate, who have "evolved" so much as to consider themselves above what they came from, to have forgotten their roots and their peoples? That the Jedi are too concerned with philosophicals and not enough with practicals in the way they have "evolved" in the Temple? Their heads being too far up in the clouds, along with the Temple Spire, as it were?

Okay, I have to say, the funeral scene with Ki-Adi was a little funny, only because the minute I saw his comically elongated hood, this immediately popped into my deranged mind:

(Admittedly, I had been thinking of this meme this morning as a way to introduce enharmonic respellings for chromatic modulation in the class I teach. And this is where it all lands me. Ha!)

ANYWAY.

There are a lot of implications in Dooku's question to Mace regarding the timing of his knowledge of his new Council appointment. Is Dooku insinuating Mace was somehow in cahoots with the Senator? No, that would be ridiculous. But what, then? That Mace didn't want to interfere for fear of losing his new seat, or losing face with the Council. More likely.

And there's this line, which ages TERRIBLY in light of everything that happens in TCW.

And I know Filoni's going hard on the Council in this episode, but there is a point to be made - less about the corruption of the Council, but rather its stasis and its inflexibility in the light of a failing pangalactic government. (Even before anything with Palpatine or the War came to fruition). The Council is 1000% guided by politics - they would be independent of the Senate if they weren't. And ego - maybe not Mace, as much, but certainly Yoda (forget the whole Dark Side thing, I'm just thinking of sending Obi-wan alone after Maul when re-emerges due to whisperings from "the Force." If Yoda had actually listened to Mace and sent a task force, how different would things have turned out? At least in that situation).

Okay last point. When Dooku is doing his whole pensive reflection bit at the end of the episode in the Temple, we see these diamond-ish shaped obelisks as part of the Temple decor. It did not escape my attention that Dooku has similarly shaped obelisks on the grounds of his Serenno estate, specifically the area where he trains Savage. I DON'T THINK THAT IS A COINCIDENCE.

Anyway, so far, this series is doing a great job of painting Dooku and his fall as highly nuanced and is actually making valid criticisms of the Jedi - things that definitely helped lead to Palpatine's rise and the outcome of the war. I also like that this version of Dooku seems to be a little closer to his Dark Rendezvous iteration (which is my absolute favorite backstory and a favorite portrayal of older!Dooku. Although Jedi Lost and M&A do a first-rate job showing teacher!Dooku to Rael and Qui-gon).

I think the next episode is the one where Qui-gon is going to show up again and I'm going to lose it when that happens. I also really need to go to sleep so I can wake up for a flight in like, *checks watch and laughs nervously* 4ish hours. Oof.

Anyway, 10/10 LOVE

[hollyhomburg]

@jjungcookie Ahhh did I top myself again in your eyes?? I hope it felt as cinematic as I wanted it too but judging from the way you said that this grabbed your attention I hope it did <3 and ahhh- the chapter where she wears the blood on her clothes- we’re like…2 chapters from it?

I agree! The m/c with a little bit of agency is >>>> I think it’s at these points where we see the person she might have been. I don’t know if it’d call it desperation, I think its her conflict management skills- like the others might be overwhelmed by their emotions and whats happening- but the m/c sees what needs to be done and is going to do it. Similarly, with bringing Hobi to the location where Jimin is- she ignores the very real implications If she does because she knows they will physically need more help than she can offer. Focusing on the facts of their survival vs how she knows Hobi will feel.

I’m a little bit proud of writing her this way like- even all the way back to when Tae and her have that scene in the clothing store where she yells at the female alpha and makes her apologize- it’s been a slow metamorphosis on the m/c’s part in healing from what’s happened to her.

Going back to Hobi, you’re right in thinking that anyone else would have made him have a lot more questions. Like keep in mind they are like 3 hours post having sex for the first time- there are a lot more questions that he has about that than he does about Jimin dying-if we’re being completely honest. He’s worn out in this chapter- too overwhelmed to think about everything much less all the specifics.

Jinnie will get his Jimin hug <3 they’re going to make up in the next chapter, don’t worry! But if we’re being honest, I think that a lot of the specifics of this- mostly that Jin was the one who shot Jimin- is going to be more hush hush. I did not bring this up in the chapter and I probably should have but As for where it stands right now- the only four people who know that Jin shot Jimin are Jin Jimin and the m/c and Hobi. Namjoon and Yoongi have not had that explained to them- although Yoongi now suspects because of the mask. Namjoon has no idea that the pack omega hurt one of their packmates this way, the people they’re sworn to protect. It’s gonna cause a hell of a dynamic if he ever figures it out.

On the subject of Jin, Yoongi, and the m/c putting their brains together- I greatly believe there is no shortage to the havoc they could cause if they put their brains together like- when I tell you that the three of them could start their own organized crime family if they wanted too that would be even more successful than Yoongi’s….they easily could. They’ve got a pretty lethal set of skills between the three of them- Tae too tbh because she’s a really good planner. Scratch that all of them, the whole pack.

Shock is one hell of a thing to experience and I think Jimin being a little delirious was received well- even if I toned down and toned up specific parts of it. I wanted to keep a little bit of the bily humor in it <3 I’m so happy they didn’t feel weird to you. It’s a bonous but imagine Hobi and Tae teasing Jimin about it and Tae causally slipping it into their dirty talk like Tae batting her eyes and asking minnie so sweetly if she can try to knock him up again. 🥺 pretty please?

I wouldn’t be too worried about Jungkook and Tae’s silence, this is one of the few instances where actually nothing bad happens to them. I think the next chapter opens up with Tae’s pov if that helps <3 I only have like 2.5k written of it so far but that’s where we’re at right now!

Ahhhh but can you imagine if Jimin gave the m/c and Tae matching pink guns 🥺 with babygirl 1 and babygirl 2 or princess 1 and princess 2 on them? All cute with mother of pearl? Something itty bitty that they can put in their purses? He would a million times want them to always have something to protect themselves with. I think where Tae’s character stands she’d be very against it but…this is a bit of a spoiler but…give it a few chapters and I think he’d come around.

Ahhh you are so welcome <3 I know I say this every time but I always enjoy our little chats through the comments, I’m sorry this one took me a handful of days to get through. I think going forward with enlistment news and everything, the best we can all hope for is just to make each following day a bit better than the last you know? Working on bily has always been so fun- even though it’s a labor of love- I feel like I get so much back having people love this thing I’m creating that it’s all worth it <3

Until next time <3

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

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~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

[wicked-mind]

I'm Broken, Too.

Summary: Steve goes back in time to put the infinity stones back where they belong in time. Although he doesn’t return, leaving his twin sister Y/N and best friend Bucky behind.

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: Implications of smut. Spoilers if you haven’t seen all the movies or series.

Notes: I may add onto this later. Who knows? Not beta’d. Just quickly wrote this so any/all mistakes and confusions are my own.

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Flash-Back

“Bucky! What if someone catches us?” Y/N giggled out breathlessly from behind one of the cargo trucks, kisses being trailed down her neck as she tilts her head backwards. It had been a few days since Steve and herself came and rescued Bucky from the prisoner camp and she was ecstatic to have Bucky back in her grasp.

“If you stay quiet then they won’t, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckles out against her neck as he left soft kisses. It had started to rain, soaking his short brown hair and clothes as well as Y/N. His hands trailed down to her waist, hoisting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her back up against the side of the truck. They were each other’s little secret. Kept from everybody, even Steve. Granted it was a lot harder to sneak around a military base than it was in Brooklyn but that didn’t stop them from stealing little moments together, “Not too quiet though…” He pulled back and grinned at her, moving one hand to stroke her cheek before his thumb gently traces her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, “I like the sounds those pretty lips make for me.”

Y/N smiles at him, running her fingers through his dark hair and tilts her head at him, “Sergeant Barnes, I am not having sex with you in the middle of a military camp in the rain! Especially at the military camp where my brother is lurking around somewhere.” She chuckles to him, leaning forward and kissing his lips softly, “I’m still a lady.”

Bucky grins at her, licking his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth for a soft bite and a wrinkle of his nose, “You keep calling me Sergeant Barnes and I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart.”

If Steve Rogers was the shield, his twin sister Y/N was the sword. She had taken the super serum with Steve- it was the only way she would allow her brother to go through the tests plus the scientists were curious about how it would affect twins. While Steve became Captain America with his shield, Y/N became Lady Patriot with dual blades. Together they rescued their friend Bucky from a prisoner camp and created the Howling Cammandos. It was extremely controversial to have a woman fighting in the war but she didn’t let anybody stand in her way. While Steve was more gentle and refined, Y/N was wild and head-strong. She never let anybody, let alone a man with high ranks, stand in her way. Steve had to stop her physically from going and looking for Bucky’s body after he fell from the train and after that, Y/N sacrificed herself with Steve when he put the jet in the ocean with the tesseract.

After Steve and Y/N found out Bucky was alive, they did everything in their power to try and protect him. Figure out what happened and how he became the Winter Soldier. He had recognized Y/N first before Steve but he was not the same man that had stared into her eyes as he fell from the train in the Alps.

Y/N stood beside Steve and the Avengers during the events with Thanos, her heart breaking for a second time when she watched Bucky turn into dust before she could reach him. This was the third time she had lost him. The first time was when he became a prisoner of war, second time when he fell from the train, and third time when he was blipped away from existence. But what remained of the Avengers never gave up. She helped them go back in time to collect the stones and was there when Thanos came back from the past to exterminate them again. Though this time didn’t go like the first time they fought Thanos five years ago. They won, bringing everybody back, and all that was left for Steve to return the stones to their proper time.

“Wait Buck, we gotta talk.”

“You’re not coming back are you?”

“No. It’s Peggy, Buck... this is my chance.”

Bucky just nods in understanding.

“Do me a favor though. Take care of Y/N. She isn’t going to handle this well.”

“You don’t even need to ask, Steve. I got her.”

Y/N stood beside Bruce, helping him set up the technology that would send her twin brother back in time to place all the infinity stones in time where they belonged. She looked over to see Steve and Bucky talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying even with her amplified hearing. She smiled as they approached, passing the brief case to her brother, “Remember, you have to return the stones to exactly where they were taken from or you’re going to open up a lot of nasty alternate realities.”

Steve smiled gently at his sister, taking the brief case that contained the stones from her, “Don’t worry, Y/N. I got it. Clip all the branches.” He told her before stepping onto the platform with the brief case in one hand and Mjolnir in the other.

“Ready?” Bruce asks, standing beside Y/N at the table to activate the technology that would allow Steve to go back in time to return the stones.

“You bet.” Steve said, taking one last look at Bucky and Sam before looking to his sister. He gave another small smile before his helmet clicked around his head.

Y/N tilted her head slightly at his smile. It seemed almost sad which made a bubble of worry enter her stomach, “Okay… Going quantum in three… two… one.” She watched Bruce hit the button and Steve disappear from the platform.

“And returning in five… four… three… two… one.” Bruce said and clicked the switch that would bring Steve back. The two paused when he didn’t return, looking over the screens and tech.

“What happened?!” Y/N asks Bruce, “Bring him back, now!”

Sam was about to interject to tell Bruce what Y/N had already told him but Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder, “Sam.” He said, looking over to a figure in the distance of a grey haired man sitting on the bench. Bucky watched Sam approach the elderly man that Bucky already knew was Steve.

Y/N looked up to see what Bucky and Sam were looking at and then she saw Steve. But it wasn’t the Steve she knew. He was older and sitting quietly on a bench alone. She took in a deep, sharp breath realizing what her twin brother had done. He had stayed back in time to be with Peggy. She shook her head, stepping away from Bruce about to make her way over to her brother to chew him out when Bucky grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her to a stop, “Let me go, Bucky!” She hissed out at him.

Bucky watched her with a tinge of sadness in his eyes, “Y/N, stop. He needs to talk to Sam first.” He said gently, his eyes scanning her face. He had known her since the day he brought Steve home the first time after getting beat up. They served in the Howlin’ Cammandos together and she had watched him fall from the train. She was there when he was the Winter Soldier. He had dragged her and Steve from the river after stopping the Helicarrier’s launch. She was there when Civil War happened between the avengers, helping to protect him from Tony while trying to take out the other Winter Soldiers. Y/N had stayed with him in Wakanda, helping him find some sort of peace before he was blipped out of existence by Thanos and she was there waiting when he returned. She had always been a constant in his life. Y/N was his home since the first time he kissed her and, god, he longed for that feeling again but didn’t feel worthy of it anymore.

Y/N turned to glare at Bucky, pulling her wrist out of his grasp, “You knew.” She said, “You knew he was going to do this, didn’t you?”

Bucky sighs and nods slowly, “I did… He told me. He deserves this, sweetheart.” He said softly, reaching out to brush his flesh fingers along her cheek softly. It had been five years since he last saw her before he was snapped away by Thanos and he still felt everything for her.

Y/N looked over at her now elderly brother before back to Bucky, pushing his hand away from her face, “You two have always been quite the pair, James.” She spat out at him before pushing past him. She could hear him calling her name, telling her to wait but she just kept walking.

That was the one of the last times Bucky had seen Y/N as she was. He couldn’t go after her yet though- he had his own shit to work out from his past as the Winter Soldier. He was offered a deal by the federal government where he would be pardoned for the actions as the Winter Soldier as long as he attended court-mandated therapy and psych-evaluations. He couldn’t go after her until he had dealt with all this bullshit. Then the Flag Smashers came to light, causing him and Sam to jump into action to deal with the new super soldiers.

The next time Bucky saw Y/N was in Madripoor at the Princess Bar. He was forced by Zemo to pretend to be the Winter Soldier and couldn’t let down his act. He saw her in the corner watching with her angry eyes locked on Zemo, ready to attack him. Luckily, Sam had noticed her too and got in her path, “Hey, Y/N, don’t.” Sam warned, placing his hands on her arms to get between the fight that Bucky was putting on, “We need Zemo. There’s shit going on you don’t know about. The Flag Smashers and new super-soldiers.”

Y/N glared at Sam, pushing him away from her, “Get off of me.” She hissed out at him before promptly exiting the bar. She had noticed Bucky give her a softened look from the corner of his eyes as he had a man slammed against the bar but even after all this time she was still upset at her brother for leaving her and Bucky for not telling her.

After everything with the Flag Smashers was settled and Sam took the new roll as Captain America, Bucky attended the community cookout with Sam’s family and friends. It was the only place besides Wakanda he felt peace. He play fought with AJ and Cass while balancing the cake he brought. It was the first time in a long time he had actually felt at peace, happy. But there was still something missing and he knew exactly what it was- Y/N. After the cookout, Bucky stood with Sam and watched the sun go down. Bucky looked at Sam with a half smile.

“You’re going to go after her, aren’t you?” Sam asks knowingly. He always had a sort os sixth sense when it came to reading people.

Bucky nodded, “I have to.” He replied with the same half-smile, “I promised Steve I would take care of her. Now that everything is right again, I have to find her.”

Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “I think we both know that it’s about more than just a promise to Steve. Let me know if you need help. A lot of people think of her a deserter after she disappeared but you two will always have a place here.” He said with a smile before returning to be with his sister and nephews.

It took Bucky a long time to find clues of Y/N’s whereabouts. Even with Sharon pardoned and trying to help, she informed him Y/N had left Madripoor after her interaction with Sam. The last trace of her was somewhere in Alaska so that was where he went. He held up pictures of her face, asking if anybody had seen her. He eventually got lucky when an old lady smiled and said, “Oh, that’s Y/N! She lived here in Fairbanks for a few months but said she was moving to Selawik.” And with that information, Bucky made his way to Selawik. He wasn’t lead right to Y/N though. Selawik was a small town that had people scattered deep into the mountains. Bucky trekked through the arctic and eventually found traces of Y/N from katana marks on tree trunks as if she had still been training and using them for targets. When he came to a small cabin where loud 80’s rock music was blasting from, he knew he had found her. He started up the steps when a katana came flying from behind him and stuck into the wooden door. He looked at the katana, recognizing the colors of the handle immediately and turning to see Y/N standing behind him with her other katana in her hand, “Y/N.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her features emotionless from under her hood. She walks up and pulls her katana from the door beside him, “What are you doing here, James?” She asks in a harsh tone before opening the door and walking into the cabin.

Bucky follows her, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’ve been looking for you.” He said simply, watching as she went to turn the music off leaving them in silence. He watched her place her katanas on a table before she pulled off her jacket and snow pants, leaving her in blue jeans with a black sweater. He couldn’t lie- her calling him James after Tony’s funeral and now hurt his heart. She always called him Bucky so affectionately since he had introduced himself to her.

After stripping her layers, Y/N turned to look at Bucky, “I know.” She replied, “I saw everything with the Flag Smashers. You and Sam did good. Steve would be proud of the new Captain America. And he would be proud of you.”

Bucky nodded, slowly shimming off his own layers and placed them beside her’s leaving him in black jeans with a light blue long sleeved shirt, “Yeah… Thanks.” He muttered back before meeting her gaze, “What you saw in Madripoor… We needed Zemo’s help. He’s back in prison now.”

“Six feet under would’ve been better.” Y/N replied, folding her arms across her chest as she watched Bucky, “So what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be enjoying life as a hero? A new man?”

Bucky frowned a little at her words, “I promised Steve I would help you. I don’t break my promises. I think he kind of caught on about us…” He replied, crossing the space between them and placing his right hand on her arm, “You can come back to Louisiana with me. You would love it there.”

Y/N scanned her eyes across his features. Dammit. He still looked as good as he did the day she met him just a little more aged with those bits of brokenness behind his features, “He already knew about us. After you fell from the train I told him everything.” She informed before sighing at his request, “Is that what you want? Someone to play house with?”

Bucky dropped his hand from her arm and backed away a little at her words, running his fingers through his dark hair with a huff. Of course that’s what he wanted. He had always wanted her. He didn’t want this life for them. He wanted to come back from the military and settle down with Y/N, ask Steve if he could marry her but everything was so different now. They both weren’t the same people they were in the forties, “Look, I know we aren’t the same people we were before and I understand that you don’t care for me the same way anymore, but I still feel everything for you. And I promised Steve I would help you… So if you do end up in need of any help, I’ll be with Sam and whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” He told her before turning to shrug his jacket back on.

Y/N sighs and looks around her cabin slowly, “You can’t leave. There’s a storm rolling in and you won’t make it two miles before you’re frozen.” She said, walking over to the kitchen and pulling out two beers, holding one out to him, “Might as well stay here until it dies down.”

Bucky watched her move to the couch before putting his jacket back where it was and taking the beer from her, “Thank you.” He said, opening the bottle and taking a seat at the small kitchen table she had.

Y/N sat across from him at the table, opening her own beer and taking a small sip before placing in in front of her on the table, “You’re wrong, you know?” She asks, watching as Bucky gave her a confused look, “I still care about you in the same way. It’s just everything we’ve been through,” She looks down to the table, “It’s different. I watched you fall from the train thinking you had died. Then decades later you come back not as yourself. I was there in Wakanda with you, helping you get back pieces of you and I still loved you. But then you were gone again because of the snap. I lost you again.” She shook her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling, “Then everything with Steve…”

Bucky listened to her, staring at her intently. His hand gripped the beer bottle roughly at her saying she still felt the same way towards him, “I know… You and I have been through more than anybody should have to.” He said before swallowing hard, “Steve loved you, Y/N. It was what he wanted. He deserved to live a life more than just trading a different war for another.”

“What about what I deserve? Or you?” Y/N asks, looking over at him. There was pain in her eyes and she wrinkled her nose as if to stop herself from crying, “I would’ve gone back with him if he asked but instead he left us here to figure the world out on our own, to figure out who we are when we aren’t not trying to save the world and I don’t know who that is, Bucky.”

Bucky nods, knowing the feeling all too well. They were lost in time, stuck in the present where neither felt like they belonged. Being thrown into situations where they had to save others instead of saving themselves, “I know how you feel.” He replied, looking at his beer bottle in his hands, “Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. Even with the Winter Soldier gone it’s like somewhere inside me… He’s still there.” He sighs before looking across the table at the girl he still loved and has never stopped loving, “The only time I feel like myself… The only time I feel like I’m Bucky is when I’m with you. You knew me as I was, who I was and when I look at you it feels like you’re my only hope of getting back to myself.”

Y/N listened to him, biting her bottom lip as she kept her gaze on him for a moment. The way those blue eyes looked at her, even if they were saddened, were the same blue eyes that were filled with love towards her. She sighs and stood up from the table, moving over to the fireplace that was crackling with a large flame, “I’m not the same person though.” She said softly, knowing he would hear her with his enhanced hearing, “I’m not the same girl. I'm not the girl that would jump into your arms and leave kisses all over your face, Bucky. I’m broken too.”

Bucky watched her move across the room as if to retreat from her feelings. The way she had stared into his eyes… He knew she still loved him just as much as he still loved her. He stood, crossing the room over to stand beside her. He gently took her hand in his, looking down at her as she turned her face to look up at him, “You’re not the same girl. And I’m not the same man. But you are still the person I love.” He told her, turning his body to face her’s and gently moved his other hand to sweep some hair from her face before gently pressing his lips to her forehead, “We can be broken together.”

__________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday @redhairedfeistynerd

[kiame-sama]

Bunny- Yandere!Adult-Trio x Chubby!Gentle!Reader (Lemon)

Another part of Bunny for you, my darlings~!

Warnings; self judgement, comfort, harem style relationship, dub-con, virginity loss, Adult-trio doesn't like sharing, Illumi is awkward and blunt, use of nickname (Bunny), detailed lemon, sub reader, dom trio, overstimulation, oral, vaginal, anal, masturbation.

You sat on your comfortable couch, two of your three boyfriends sitting on either side of you. Hisoka was not among the two though he would be joining the group soon as the three typically did not leave your side for very long. They were getting along better than they had before you agreed to date them, so the four of you could live in semi-harmony together.

It was clear you were the primary reason the three got along together. Though, you were also the main reason the three would fight with each other.

Your attention was a coveted thing and you vaguely considered some kind of point system just to keep track of how much time you have spent with the three. Each one of your boyfriends have developed a rather extensive web of who shows you affection when and how. Naturally, they still tend to have a back and forth dominance fight whenever you nap on one or cuddle with one.

You were still fairly innocent to the more intimate parts of a relationship and the fact that you have the three partners where most have only one. Hisoka made no bones about his desire to be more intimate with you, even being a bit more overbearing when it came to his forward behavior. Chrollo was not as intense as Hisoka, but he also has been letting his eyes linger for a bit too long on certain areas of your body. Illumi, though not at all versed in the ways of intimacy, also began showing more blantantly provocative and affectionate behavior.

They also seemed to come up with a more intense craving for your affection, often giving you random gifts or food. Hisoka was particularly interested in giving you food gifts, usually wanting to hand-feed you the food he got for you. Chrollo usually gave you expensive gifts to spoil you and mainly got you comfort items like blankets or pillows. Illumi was surprisingly the most physically affectionate of the three, often wanting to hold you or carry you as often as he could.

The three refused to let you sleep in your bed alone and took to a rather unique way they could all have their hands on you in some way while sleeping. Usually you would sleep on top of one with the other two at either side of your body, arms laying across your torso. Basically it gave you a living blanket comprised of the three men.

It took more than a bit of time to adjust to having three significant others that were extremely possesive of you. It was also a rather quick adjustment to having almost constant physical contact with at least one person. They were eager to get as close to you emotionally as they could and they often made remarks that made it clear they had no intention of going anywhere.

You wondered what they would do further into the relationship, seeing as you couldn't imagine any of the three men willingly leaving you.

"We're getting married."

The sudden remark from Illumi made you turn to look at him in surprise, eyebrows raised. He was always the most blunt out of the three, but the sudden declaration even caught Chrollo off guard. You both stared at an unbothered Illumi with questioning expressions, his unblinking eyes staying locked on you.

"When- when did you decide this?"

"The moment we started our relationship. You were mine from then on."

Before you could respond, you felt a pair of hands lifting you up and pulling you back onto a rather comfortable lap. Chrollo wrapped his arms around you, holding you close with a clear challenging stare to Illumi.

"She's mine too."

"I had planned on having both you and Hisoka dead by now. Likely should have hired my father and grandfather to get rid of you both, but I would prefer to kill you myself."

You couldn't help but slowly blink your eyes as your brain attempted to catch up with the rather aggressive and threatening words Illumi used. Chrollo was far less perturbed by the unveiled threat from Illumi, instead he just stared back at the assassin. You were surprised when a slight smirk pulled at Chrollo's lips.

"And you would risk losing her just to get rid of Hisoka and I?"

"I wouldn't lose her. I'd have her to myself."

"You would intentionally upset (y/n) by doing that and you know it. You'd lose her the moment you killed one of us."

"..."

"Are you willing to risk it?"

"... No."

Before Chrollo could continue poking at Illumi and taunting him, your door swung lazily open. Hisoka waltzed into the room with a confident stride, immediately taking note of the tension between his two companions. He had a grin that meant trouble and you were well aware of the mayhem he could and would cause.

"Is it the wrong time to ask a question?"

Clearly Illumi and Chrollo were acutely aware of the sudden shift in atmosphere with Hisoka's arrival. They both waited in silence as Hisoka gave you a 'come-here' motion, his grin never leaving. Chrollo hesitantly let you get up from his lap, curious as to what Hisoka was planning to do.

You felt your nerves sizzle slightly as you cautiously approached Hisoka, knowing whatever trick he had up his sleeve would lead to a dominance squabble. When you got within arm's reach, he pulled you close and kissed you roughly. Though you vaguely expected him to do something like this, it still didn't stop your surprised gasp as you gave him a perfect opening to slide his tongue between your lips.

He held the back of your head with one hand so you wouldn't be able to pull away from the surprise show of affection. His other arm reaching for something, which he lifted up as soon as he broke the intense kiss. Sitting in his hand was a rather lovely ring with all four solitaire suits in gems.

For a moment, it seemed like a rather out of place thing for Hisoka to do, but then again, he was the most spoiling of the three. Leave it to the most eccentric of your boyfriends to do something like this, especially in front of the other two.

Honestly, you had expected none of them to even give a damn about things like marriage. It seemed like such a small and domestic thing that was far too 'normal' for the likes of them, but apparently this was not the case. You could understand it with Illumi, his family expected him to marry and carry on the bloodline in a rather traditional sense. With Hisoka and Chrollo though, you figured they were not interested in things like marriage or professions of love.

"I already proposed to her, Hisoka. Back off."

"She hasn't said 'no' yet, so I don't think so."

Given the increasing tension in the room, you wanted to try and calm things down as soon as possible. You only hoped that they would accept your answer and not try to fight each other immediately. It wasn't hard to figure out your next course of action in this odd tangle you found yourself in, since you knew when you first agreed to date them that there was no chance of you leaving them.

"Since we already are in a poly-relationship, it would make more sense to marry all three of you instead of just one, right?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...?"

The three men stared at you in silence at your suggestion, as if they themselves hadn't considered the continuation of the harem style relationship. That and it kept the three from killing one another, so you didn't choose favorites.

"... If it means I stay with you, then I'll accept it for now."

Unsurprisingly, Illumi was first to plainly state his thoughts on the matter. He was blunt and had little to no social graces, so he gave little concern as to stating his thoughts out loud. Where he lacked emotion, his brutal honesty was refreshing.

"Guess there's no choice then. Looks like we have to keep sharing her."

"So it seems. But, we need to decide an even division of her time so we all get some evenings alone with her."

You almost smiled at them actually agreeing on something so quickly before you remembered Chrollo's words. Though they seemed innocent enough, you felt heat rush to your cheeks at the implications behind his words. You knew they were already holding themselves back from ravaging you no matter how excited they got, but now there was little reason to continue to deny them other than your nerves surrounding the situation.

Make no bones about it, you knew how such things worked and how to have sex, but you never really had the confidence or interest in it to actually use that knowledge. You also knew that they would likely expect some more intimate moments or situations with you, given their change in status as fiancés instead. Your thoughts being confirmed as you slowly backed away when all three turned to look at you with gleaming eyes.

"Aww, don't be scared, Bunny~ I promise you'll enjoy it too♠"

A shiver ran down your spine and you noticed the odd feeling in the back of your mind telling you to run. Much like a prey animal in a group of predators, you suddenly felt a kind of weight from their stares.

"What Hisoka means," Chrollo started with a sideways glance at the red-haired man, "is that you don't need to shy away from us. If you're uncomfortable with something, you're free to stop us or ask we slow down."

"We?"

"Wouldn't it only be fair that the three of us are present for her first time?"

Your cheeks burned an even warmer red as you listened to the two casually discuss something that had you exceedingly flustered. They couldn't possibly be talking about that very moment, could they? Surely they were joking.

"Wait, you mean right now?"

"Why not? I am certain Illumi wants you to meet his family and I wish for you to eventually meet the other Spiders. We three don't often remain together or in just one place. Now may be the only time we have together as a group for a while. As much as I would like to keep your first time to myself, I doubt these two would let me."

"But... Why right now?"

"... (Y/n), we're not going to judge you."

"Don't lie to me..."

"I'm not lying. (Y/n), you have no idea how beautiful you truly are."

"..."

You looked away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and trying to not look at them. Given the way society viewed women- especially heavier women- you were terrified of what they would think. You had stretch marks on your soft body and you hated them beyond belief. You were hesitant because you didn't want to disappoint them.

Given your hate towards the marks on your body, you worried they would hate them just as much as you, if not more. It was then Illumi spoke up, his tone flat and his face expressionless.

"Your scars aren't an issue, we've already seen you naked."

"What? When!?"

"Any time you-"

He was suddenly muffled by an irritated Hisoka covering his mouth, leaving the sentence unfinished while Chrollo sighed. Illumi clearly saw nothing wrong with what he had been saying where the other two were intent on keeping him quiet. You, however, faintly worried about what he said.

They had seen you without clothes and completely vulnerable. But that also meant they still were rather intently pursuing you even after witnessing your stretch-marks and other scars. It both flustered and comforted you in a way you couldn't describe, upset they had been spying on you but happy they viewed you in a different way from how you viewed yourself.

"Regardless, now would be a time better than any. It is unlikely we will remain capable of sharing you like this for very long, let alone when the next time we are together would be."

"... I don't know..."

You were still hesitant, but you knew Chrollo was right. They barely got along as it was and it would be unfair to the other two if you chose just one of them for your first time. You were also marrying them, after all...

You sighed, biting your lip nervously before turning to your room, silently walking into it without a response to the three. Naturally, they followed you and watched closely as you sat down on your plush bed. Curling up slightly, you finally looked at them, cheeks burning with a deep blush.

"W-well? Hurry up before I- before I change my mind..."

You couldn't keep the stress out of your voice as you slightly tripped up on your words, trying to keep your tone steady. It was clear that you didn't need to tell them twice as the three quickly joined you on the bed. The thunderous sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest seemed all the more intense as you watched them shed their extra clothing.

They were all rather wonderfully sculpted which only made you feel more insecure about your figure, starting to slightly panic. The more time you had to panic, the more stressed you became and the less certain you felt. Illumi was first to move, pressing his lips hungrily against your own.

"Just because we agreed to let you go first doesn't mean you get to hog her."

Hisoka growled out in irritation, wanting to just pounce and rip your obscuring clothes from your body. Illumi gave an annoyed glance at Hisoka before moving to sit behind you, pulling you onto his lap. His lips ghosted across your neck as you let out a soft mewl, shivering from his touch.

"But, if we're staking claims, I want her mouth~"

You felt a shiver run down your spine as the red-haired man licked his lips, staring intensely at you from the end of the bed.

"Hisoka, she's not a piece of meat to carve up and claim. Besides, can't you see you're frightening her? It is her first time, after all."

"How sweet, our Bunny is soft and innocent. All the more reason to stake a claim on her."

A soft mewl left your lips as Illumi trailled a hand up and under your shirt, gently groping at your bra covered chest. The movement drew the attention of the other two men who were now watching you hungrily, their eyes following every movement Illumi's hands made. Hisoka was next to approach, slowly pulling off your shirt with a grin.

He quickly unhooked your bra, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. You didn't have time to react to his bold move before his hands were on you, one soft breast cupped by his hand and the peak of the other in his mouth. The sensation made you arch your back, pressing back into illumi and mewling loudly.

Chrollo was next as he approached from your side, turning your head to lock your lips in a deep kiss, easily sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You were so lost in the feelings running through you, you didn't notice Illumi's hand sliding down into your pants, cupping your heat with slightly cold fingers. The sensation had you moaning softly against Chrollo's lips to which he only smirked and continued to dominate your mouth. Hisoka let his mouth pop off of your swollen breasts and started working on sliding off your pants, kissing your stomach gently.

The blush that took over your face was just so cute to Chrollo that he couldn't resist squeezing your breasts just to make you squeal and whine. His lips were insistent but he mercifully pulled away to let you catch your breath, watching you whine and lean your head back against Illumi's shoulder. He was quick to join Hisoka in sliding off your pants and underwear, lustfully watching Illumi's fingers rub over your wet slit.

"Illumi, hold open her legs."

"Why?"

"Because I want a taste."

Illumi hesitantly pulled his hand away from your heat and gripped your thighs, leaving you panting as you let out a whine from the loss of friction. You didn't have to wait long before a hot tongue was sliding through your soft folds. Chrollo slowly lapping at your sensitive pussy with long strokes of his tongue, humming in pleasure.

"Ngh-! Ah~! Chrollo- Mmm- feels so good..!"

You were gasping at this point, back arched and head tilted back as you let out breathless moans, lightly gripping at his soft and fluffy hair. His eyes flicked up for a moment to watch you before closing as he doubled his efforts, sliding his tongue inside of you. The yelping moan that left your lips was downright sinful and only served to turn the three men on more than they already were.

Hisoka growled at the lack of contact with you before he slightly raised one of your legs, ducking his head down to join Chrollo's and practically forcing the other male to give him space. Both were now sliding their tongues against your soft pussy, not caring when they came in contact with each other. Both were completely determined to get as much from you as they possibly could, cheeks pressed against each other as they worked you over. Their fingers fighting to slide into you and stretch you out properly.

You were already on cloud nine at that point and each of their delicious movements only enhanced that feeling. Illumi dutifully held your legs up and open for his companions, busying himself with sucking countless marks onto your neck. You could feel something firm pressing against your soft ass since you were still sitting on his lap, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Ah-! It's too- too much! I can't- I can't take it anymore!"

Despite your mewls and whines for mercy, they continued their almost savage actions. A burning desire was building up inside of you, like a pressure what was coiling itself tighter and tighter. You were almost drooling at that point, each movement and caress of their mouths pushing you further towards that climbing bliss.

Just when that pleasured coil seemed to become so tight it was almost painful, it snapped, flooding your body with euphoria. Your voice rose several octaves as the pleasure coursed through you. Your vision went black for a moment, leaving you reeling in that pleasure which scrambled your thoughts.

When you finally came down from your high, you were still lightly panting, groaning in residual pleasure.

"Seems you enjoyed that quite a bit."

"Didn't expect to already be making you squirt for us~♠"

You whined softly, finally getting yourself under control after the mind-numbing bliss you endured. Hisoka was licking his soaked lips, Chrollo seeming equally pleased as he licked his fingers. Illumi was quick to turn you on his lap so you were facing him, legs on either side of his body.

He locked his lips with yours and slightly bucked his hips, rubbing his cloth covered cock against your folds. You moaned softly at this before finding yourself splayed out on your back, Illumi hovering over you while easily pulling off his restrictive underwear. You squeaked in slight fear at the sudden intensity the situation took on, feeling your nerves rise up again.

Hisoka was quick to rip open an odd little square package and toss the contents to Illumi, fixing the assassin with a firm stare. Illumi seemed completely disinterested in whatever Hisoka had given him, but a meaningful glance from Chrollo made him comply. He growled and moved to slide the item down over his extremely erect cock, covering it with a neon green condom.

"Illumi, gentle."

Hisoka had a warning in his tone and gripped both of your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head. You were completely helpless in your current position, looking up at Illumi as he slowly slid his length through your soft folds. After a moment of doing that, he lined himself up against your entrance, slowly pushing his large cock inside of you.

You whined and squirmed on the bed, feeling a burn from the uncomfortable stretch of your body accommodating for the large cock pushing into you. You gasped and whined the further he sunk into you, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to relax. Halfway in he paused, feeling your soft barrier in his way, preventing him from sinking deeper into you.

The only hesitated a moment before suddenly thrusting his hips forward, sliding into you the rest of the way. The sudden action paired with the tearing of your fragile hymen made you scream out in a cry of pain. Hisoka kept your wrists pinned down as your body spasmed and arched, his golden eyes glaring at Illumi.

"Damn it, Illumi! I said gentle!"

"I am being gentle."

Chrollo sighed and gently kissed your forehead, running his hands soothingly over your skin in an attempt to calm you. As the pain faded to a dull burn, you were able to relax a bit more, Chrollo's light touch doing wonders for your stressed mind.

Illumi watched you closely, slowly beginning to move his hips to test how you would respond. When you didn't let out another cry of pain, his slow pace picked up speed and he settled on a simple rhythm to move his hips to. The faint burn was still there, but another feeling was starting to bubble up from inside of you.

It felt similar to how you felt earlier with both Chrollo and Hisoka licking your soft pussy, but this time it seemed more intense than before. As the sensation rose, you began to let out soft noises of pleasure that increased in volume each time. The louder you got, the more intense Illumi's thrusting became.

Eventually he was practically jackhammering into you, his blank eyes never once leaving your cute expression. He hardly made a sound as he pounded into you, where as you were moaning loudly and arching your back. The hard cock inside of you only seemed to become firmer with every noise you made.

Hisoka still held your wrists to the bed, but he busied himself with sucking rather harshly on one of your bouncing breasts. Chrollo did the same to the other, one hand sliding down your front to rub your clit in time with Illumi's thrusts. You mewled and whined loudly, wanting to run your fingers through Illumi's hair or to grip at the hair of either men that sucked harshly on your sensitive breasts.

Pinned as you were, you found it almost torturous to not be able to grip something to keep yourself grounded, but the bliss flooding your mind kept you occupied. Your loud moans clearly excited the men as they relished in the sound and watched you shake in bliss. Illumi had yet to blink or do much other than pound you harshly into the bed, his breathing slightly uneven.

The bed creaked and groaned loudly from the force Illumi was using, sounding like it was nearly at its breaking point. Each push and drag of his large cock inside of you sent continuous shots of dopamine into your brain, scrambling your thoughts completely. Just when it felt like you couldn't breathe from the overwhelming pleasure, that intense pressure in your abdomen broke and washed over you with liquid euphoria.

Your screaming moan dragged on far longer than you had expected as Illumi continued pounding into you before coming to a sudden halt. He let out a low hum of content and finally closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of your tight walls drawing every last drop of cum from his slowly softening cock. Hisoka released your wrists, pulling away from your breast with a pop of his lips.

Chrollo similarly withdrew his hand, letting your soft breast go to give you time to come down from your high. You were panting heavily with hitching breaths as you tried to calm your frantic heart, that had been drumming wildly in your chest. You felt light-headed and numb, barely noticing Illumi slowly pulling out of you and gently setting your legs down.

As your heart settled to a steady rolling beat, you were vaguely aware of your body being rolled over and hips being propped up. You gained enough energy to glance back, seeing Chrollo rubbing your hips slowly before sliding on his own condom, this one being a neon purple. A vague desire to laugh at the color coordination of the condoms bubbled up in you, but the most you managed was a light huff of amusement.

A soft grip on your shoulders drew your attention forward again as Hisoka lifted your front, setting you down gently on his lap while he made himself comfortable on his knees. He wore a neon pink condom and was looking down at you lustfully, running his fingers across your cheek.

"Ready to go again, Bunny?"

You hummed out your response of vague confirmation, watching him grip his bright pink cock with one hand, lifting your chin with the other.

"Good. Now, open wide~♣"

You let your jaw drop open, knowing where he wanted to put that large and intimidating cock in you. With a slow lick of his lips, he slid himself into your warm mouth, letting out a heavy moan of pleasure. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, fingers lightly gripping and moving your head.

You truly had to do nothing other than let him move your head in short up and down motions. He seemed quite content to just fuck himself into your mouth, sliding up against your tongue.  For a moment, you forgot about Chrollo before a cold gel met your tight ass-hole, slowly sliding around the soft skin.

Your cry of surprise and vague refusal was muffled by the large cock in your mouth, though the tone of your voice was clear. Certainly, you hadn't expected any of this to begin with, but you never would have expected all of your holes to be used by one of the three men. Chrollo gently shushed you, rubbing your hips in slow soothing circles.

"Shh... It's alright. I'll be gentle with you, and if it hurts too much, I'll stop. Okay?"

You whined again, causing a heavy moan to escape Hisoka from the vibration your voice caused. Taking the sound you made as confirmation, Chrollo started to slowly slide into you, the generous amount of lube he had used helping him ease into you more easily. You let out distressed and whimpering noises, feeling your internal stress getting the better of you as you dug your nails into Hisoka's thighs.

Chrollo stayed completely still once he was fully seated inside of you, his hands still rubbing over the soft skin of your hips. You were thankful for the moment to compose yourself and once your breathing calmed, Chrollo began to move. You let out a squeal from the return of the painful sensation, slightly shaking your head.

"It's okay. It won't hurt for long. It's okay."

You doubted his words, but found yourself rather surprised when the pain of the intrusion soothed into an odd pleasure. Each slow push and pull in your body pressing against several nerves you didn't know you had, bringing with it a faint pleasure that began to slowly build. You slowly withdrew your nails from Hisoka's thighs, no longer in any pain.

Hisoka was still moving your head up and down on his large cock, unabashed moans rumbling from his chest. Each time Chrollo thrust into you moved your mouth around Hisoka, only making the red-head croon out more moans. He clearly took great pleasure in having your lips wrapped around him and your hot tongue sliding against his needy cock.

You began to hear low moans from Chrollo, who had begun to thrust in a faster and harder pace. Both men moving in surprising unison as one of Chrollo's hands came down to rapidly rub your soaked pussy. Illumi, who had been recollecting himself from his intense orgasm now sat, sliding his hand around his cock that had once again hardened.

He was clearly enjoying the sight of you getting pounded into by both men quite a bit, his empty eyes never once leaving you as he thrust up into his fist. The sight of Illumi pleasuring himself to your helpless form sparked pleasure in your mind, working in tandem with the pleasure of Chrollo's equally large cock inside of you. The three began moving at an almost frantic pace as they chased their highs, taking pleasure in your soft body.

Chrollo was rapidly rubbing your weeping clit and you could feel your pleasure rising up again. The wonderful bliss was nearly engulfing you completely, your nerves practically shot as each movement only pulled you closer to your release. Then, as if by some unknown cue, all four of you reached your orgasms, their deep moans harmonizing with your own muffled cry as you almost blacked out from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

When you finally returned to your senses, you realized that the three were laying around you as they usually did. One under you and one on either side of you, all three touching your skin in some way. You almost felt glad that you would be splitting up your time, since you didn't know if you could repeat the intense rounds of sex on the weekly basis, let alone do it daily.

A relaxed sense of peace hummed through your mind as you let yourself drift off to sleep, all three of your protective and possessive fiancés keeping you safe.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 4

Will

Cult girl attends her grandmother's funeral and is approached with a highly unorthodox last will and testament.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation and abuse, verbal abuse, death, slight emetophobia, body-shaming, ED mention, pregnancy and family planning

There was no use recounting anything from the leading up to the funeral. You spent that first night wine-drunk, munching on foie gras, watching Arrested Development and diagnosing each character to the best of your psychological abilities. You remembered cry-laughing at the same jokes you had memorized, and reminiscing on all the insane shit your own personal Lucille Bluth pulled on you. That was the highlight of the week. It was all downhill from there. 

Firstly, you were sick. That Sunday, you wrote it off as a hangover. Then, the hangover returned with a vengeance, just to add salt to the already open wound of having to pretend to mourn your abusive grandmother. At least the physical pain would give your acting an air of sincerity, you thought. 

Hannibal dressed in a solid black tux: it was almost uncanny to see him outside of any of his normal checkered suits. You selected a plain black dress and a strand of pearls.

The funeral was to be held at the same country club Anna’s wedding was held. Your grandmother was like a pharaoh, insisting that the empire she built know that even in death, she reigned supreme. The country club was her pyramid. 

Anna asked if you wanted to say a few words. As much as you wanted to get up and tell all her country club friends about the time she reported you as an abducted child at age twenty-two when you refused to leave your boyfriend and move back in with her, you knew that it wasn’t in good taste. You racked your brain for any story that could be considered remotely funeral-appropriate, but none came to mind. 

You spent the entire funeral trying not to roll your eyes too obviously at the stories of abuse her country club friends somehow remembered fondly. Your soul just left your body throughout the entire process and you were unsure if it would ever return. 

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. Then, it did. 

The beginning of the end was when your grandmother’s estate lawyer pulled you and Anna aside to conduct the reading of the will. He showed you to a side room, then excused himself before closing the door behind him. 

“Hello, [F/N].” Liam greeted, trying to cut through the awkward silence that came with first seeing each other after four straight years. “I’m very sorry about your gran. She was a great woman.” 

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.” 

“No she doesn’t.” Anna muttered. “And it’s Liam.” 

“I don’t mind ‘Lee’.” Liam contested. “My mum called me Lee. I actually quite like it.” 

Anna was in one of her ‘I’m so upset, please ask me why’ moods. She sat on one of the heavy armchairs with her legs crossed and eyes to the wall. You weren’t going to bite. 

Liam wasn’t so cautious. “Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” She pouted, not even dignifying her husband with a look. “I just think it’s interesting that I put the funeral together all by myself and someone couldn’t even be bothered to speak.” 

You shot Liam a look that said ‘way to go, jackass’. 

“Yeah,” You said, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “That must suck.” 

Anna glared at you. “You really have nothing to say? Really?” 

You tensed up. “Let’s see, which charming anecdote would you have me tell? How about that time when she made you wear a fat suit for an hour after you complained about how the low-carb ice cream tasted like chemicals?” 

Liam looked in shock at his wife. “Did she really?” 

“Once.” Anna confessed, holding up one finger. 

You turned to Liam, as if you were sharing some hot gossip. “That was all it took to give her an eating disorder when she was thirteen.” 

Hannibal was just a fly on the wall. Anna noticed his lack of reaction. 

“And I bet Hannibal knows all about this, huh?” Anna said, throwing her hand in his direction. “Because he just needs to hear all of our private family business, right?” 

You stood up from your seat. “First of all, I take offense at the implication that my fiancée isn’t family.” 

An evil smile spread on Anna’s face. “But he wasn’t always your fiancé, was he, [F/N]?” 

“Holy shit, you cracked the code.” You said, flatly. “There was a point in time when Hannibal and I weren’t an item. Real shocker, that one.” 

“You know what I mean.” She sneered, then approached Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, is it true that before you and [F/N] became romantically involved, you were her therapist?” 

Liam looked scandalized. Hannibal was just as put-together as always. 

“That is true.” He said, feeling no shame whatsoever. 

Anna turned back to you. “Now don’t you think that’s just a smidge unethical? For a therapist to date their much younger patient?” 

You narrowed your eyes. You carried yourself with the lightness of a woman who finally had the moral high ground. “So you want to talk about what’s ethical, huh? I suppose that means you’ve told Liam about pineapple.”

All the blood drained from her face. You crossed your arms and held your head up a little higher. 

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned. 

“Look, could we just pretend to be a normal, functioning family for ten minutes?” Anna pleaded, as if there were anyone other than herself to blame for provoking an argument.

“That’s on you two.” Liam, rightfully, pointed out. He gestured to himself and then to Hannibal. “Neither of us have said anything.” 

The estate lawyer must have gotten his juris doctorate alongside a master's in impeccable fucking timing, because that was when he decided to make his entrance.

"I'm sorry for the wait, everyone." He announced. "And I'm sorry for having to pull you aside in your hour of mourning. Usually the last will and testament is handled through email to the beneficiaries, but your grandmother was quite adamant it be approached this way."

"That definitely sounds like her." You said, exchanging glances with Hannibal. You'd talked about this for what felt like hours the week prior. She was going to pull some last-minute bullshit to humiliate you from beyond the grave. Give all the inheritance to Anna and leave a snide comment about you in a legal document. You knew it was coming. All you could hope was for it to be quick.

The lawyer pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "She specifically asked for her two living grandchildren and their significant others to be present."

"Did she say it like that?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Or was it more like, 'Anna and her husband, and [F/N] and her therapist'?"

"Mrs. Young," Hannibal said, taking your hand. "Until you tell your husband about pineapple, you aren't allowed to judge us."

Anna glared at you. "What the hell? He knows, too?!"

"Yeah." You answered. "I tell him everything."

"Okay, who or what is pineapple?" Liam interjected. "And why do I get the feeling I'm the only one not in the know, here?"

"That's cause you are." You confirmed. "And you have your lovely wife to thank for that."

"Everyone!" The lawyer called out. Clearly, he'd seen his share of dysfunctional families. "Please, let me just read the will and you can continue arguing afterwards."

"Y'know what? Fair enough." You said, crossing your legs. "Let's rip off this band-aid, shall we?"

The lawyer opened the envelope and produced a single page. He cleared his throat.

"I, Beatrice [L/N], being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions-" He began reading the long first sentence. "Including but not limited to, a collective sum of $45 million, the family home and my shares of the country club, to the first of my granddaughters to give birth."

You expected nothing. You expected something. But you never could have expected this.

"Can you please read that last part again?" You asked, unsure if what you heard was the result of a stroke.

"The entire inheritance goes to the first one of you to have a baby." The lawyer clarified, trying to make it sound like a reasonable arrangement.

"That makes sense." Anna said, nodding.

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "How in the fuck on fire does that make sense to you?"

"Well, the money would be going to a good cause." She rationalized. "To raise the baby, right?"

You shook your head. "No, this is insane. Grandma has always had this weird obsession with bloodlines, and now she's trying to incentivize us to carry it out."

"What happens if neither of us can, y'know?" Anna asked.

The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose. "If neither granddaughter is willing to produce a child, the entire inheritance will go to the Eagle Forum, so my ungrateful grandchildren can learn about family values."

"She hated the Eagle Forum!" Anna objected. "She wouldn't dare."

"She absolutely would." You pressed your fingers into your forehead. "That's upper-class white moderates for you. And she doesn't have to be around to see when they name a fucking wing after her."

"The Beatrice [L/N] center for denying women bodily autonomy." Hannibal said. "It's quite fitting."

"[F/N], we can't let that happen." Anna pleaded. "We can't let Eagle Forum get a penny of that money."

"Why the hell not?" You said. Though on principle, you agreed, you knew this was just another one of your grandmother's power grabs. At the end of the day, she chose to leave her money to the Eagle Forum. And it would be her name on that check, not yours.

"Oh my god, you actually hate babies more than you hate conservatives." Anna stood with her mouth agape.

"Don't put words in my mouth." You snapped. "I don't hate babies. I hate grandma for trying to threaten me into having one. I hate grandma for pinning us against each other and making sure it stays that way."

"What do you have against giving me a little niece or nephew, huh?" Anna folded her arms.

"I'm fucking done." You said, throwing up your hands. "This will be the last you ever see of me."

Of course, that's what you said the last time.