#my parents keep telling me to get a haircut

[sabertoothwalrus]

here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-Meeting her Family

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: this is the first of my one shot collection series where Luke and Y/N do varies fluffy (or angsty) activities with each other's families ! Per usual not edited Summary: Luke meets Y/N's family for the first time Warnings: I don't think so? Word Count: 3,155 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, running his fingers through his curls. He held the gel product in his fingers as he tried to style his hair perfectly. He got a haircut. The sides of his hair were shaved as the top of his hair was longer on the top. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It’s been almost a year since he had his hair this short. 

Y/N walked into the bathroom, wearing a maroon sweater with black jeans covering her frame. “Lukey, you look handsome. Please leave it alone,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his forearm. He glanced towards her direction in the mirror before he dropped his hands from his hair.

“It’s so short,” he said as he leaned towards the mirror. She rolled her eyes as she looped her arm through his. “I didn’t think she was going to shave it like this when I said shorter on the sides,” he explained, looking at his reflection again.

“Hey,” she mumbled as she reached her hand over, taking a hold of his chin to force his gaze to her. “You look very cute,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and kissed him briefly.

“Cute’s good right? I mean for meeting your family? Cute is supposed to be-”

“Luke,” she mumbled, raising her eyebrows. He nodded, taking a deep breath as he turned on the sink to wash the remainder of the gel in his hands. “It’s just three days,” she mumbled as she rested her hand onto the bathroom counter. 

“Three days is a lot of time to mess up and make your parents hate me,” he let out as he shifted his body to fully face her. She smiled towards him while shaking her head. 

“You want the cliffnotes?” she asked him and nodded as he delicately placed his hands onto her waist. He toyed with the ends of the sweater as he looked deeply into her eyes. 

“My mom will love you. She’ll say you’re too skinny and will feed you all the cinnamon rolls you can eat. She’ll probably end up loving you more than me,” she said with a wide smile. 

“My dad likes to think he’s this big tough guy. He’ll try to intimidate you but he’ll be a big softy once he sees how much I love you,” she explained. His hands slowly looped around her waist, pulling her closer. His cheeks flushed slightly as the word love leaves her mouth.

“My sister is nosey, she’ll try to get you to blush and she’s really good at it. She may even ask about our sex life,” she explained, raising her eyebrows as she watched his eyes widened. “Don’t tell her anything,” she teased. He nodded dramatically as she rested her hands on his chest. 

“My brother will probably ask you a thousand questions about hockey.” She leaned towards him wrapping her arms around the center of his back. He squeezed her tighter. “You’ll be okay, everyone is going to love you,”

“Am I allowed to touch you, or do I avoid all contact?” he asked, she chuckled as if he was joking but he was serious. She pulled away, keeping her arms wrapped around the center of his back.

“They know you’re my boyfriend, Lovely,” she teased. 

He licked his lips nervously, “I know but are they weirded out if we cuddle on the couch or something,” he asked as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. 

“Please cuddle me,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and delicately pecked his lips, “But maybe wait to kiss me until tomorrow,” she let out.

“Noted,” he muttered before he kissed her for a few more moments.

~~~

Luke drove the hour and half it took to get to her parents house. With the ran and the traffic it took thirty minutes longer than normal. Luke was quiet, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves. Every so often she would reach her hand over and squeeze his hand that was in his lap. He would smile softly towards her briefly before he would shift his gaze back to the road. 

He slowly pulled into the long driveway into her childhood home. She lived in the middle of nowhere. “You can park there, Honey,” she said as she pointed to the small gravel side of the driveway. He nodded as he slowly pulled the car into park. He let out a long drawn out huff of air as he looked towards her. “Just be yourself, my love,” she hummed as she reached her hand across to rest her hand onto his cheek. She ran her thumb across the skin of his cheek. 

“I don’t know how to do that. What if they think you’re too good for-” she silenced him by kissing him. He melted into the kiss as his body relaxed. She pulled away, keeping her lips a mere inch away from him. His eyes fluttered open as he took another deep breath, “Thank you,” he let out before he pecked her lips once more.

“Come on, Lukey,” she mumbled as she opened her passenger side door and stepped outside. The rain had stopped during the last ten minutes of their ride. He stepped out of the car as well, slamming the door shut as he squinted his eyes.

“Please don’t call me Lukey in front of them,” he whined. She fought off the smile on her lips as she shook her head.

She walked towards him as she linked her arm with his as she whispered, “I’ll think about it,” she paused, “Lukey.”

He rolled his eyes playfully as they continued up the small path towards the front door. His heart began to quicken as they stepped up onto the deck, the board creaking as they stepped towards the dark blue door. She met his gaze and he gave her a reassuring nod before she knocked a few times before she pushed the door open. She stepped inside, dragging Luke into the house. 

Her house was a small farm-like house. It was cluttered but homey. Her living room had the fireplace lit and it was already quite warm in the house.

“Mom! Y/N and her boyfriend are here!” her little brother shouted as he jumped from the couch to greet the pair at the door. Luke’s cheeks flushed red instantly as his eyes widened. Y/N glanced towards Luke admiring his pink cheeks before she looked towards her little brother. Who’s not so little anymore, he’s fifteen and already taller than their dad.

“EJ, look at you!” she let out as he jogged towards them. He hugged her instantly, chuckling. After a few seconds she pulled away and looped her arm around Luke’s again. “EJ, this is Luke,” she said, pointing towards him. Elijah lit up as he reached his hand across to Luke to shake his hand. Luke quickly returns the gesture.

“You say that like I don’t know the guy.” Elijah muttered excitedly. Luke smiled, “Great game the other night, I’m a huge fan,” he continued.

“Thanks man. Y/N tells me you’re a goalie?” Luke offered. Elijah nodded dramatically. Before their conversation could continue her parents emerged from the kitchen together. Her mother was practically tearing up at the sight of them.

“Elijah James, will you let them enter the damn house!” her mom asked teasingly. Elijah moved out of the back towards the couch to his video game he was playing. “Come in, come in!” she said excitedly. Her mom guided them towards the living room to allow the couple to breath. 

“Oh Luke, we’ve been so excited to meet you.” her mom let out as she gave him a hug, his eyes widened as he returned the hug. He looked towards Y/N awkwardly. Y/N chuckled as she hugged her dad as he was ignoring Luke and her mom was ignoring Y/N. “How was the drive?” she asked him.

“It was raining but otherwise it wasn’t too bad,” he replied, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh good, come on, dinner is ready,” she said as she began walking back towards the kitchen to walk towards the dining room.

“Two point night the other night, huh?” her dad offered, keeping his hands in his pocket as he looked Luke up and down.

“Yes Sir,” he mumbled, Y/N tried to fight off the smirk toying to her lips. Y/N gave her dad a warning look.

“That was a really impressive goal in OT,” her dad let out as he cautiously clapped his hand against Luke’s shoulder. He walked towards Elijah who was still in the living room. Luke and Y/N walked through the house, ending the conversation there.

“You’re right, he’s scary,” he whispered into her ear. She rolled her eyes playfully as they wandered into the dining room where her sister, Jasmine was sitting waiting. She lifted her gaze from her phone to see the pair walking into the room. Jasmine was her younger sister. Jasmine and Elijah are twins.

Jasmine and Elijah were vastly different. It was hard to even believe that they were twins. Jasmine had dyed red hair and was a part of the school’s theater program. Elijah was the starting goalie for the varsity hockey team. He had been since he was a freshman. Despite their many differences they were very close and they shared the same friend group.

“Hey!” she said excitedly as she lifted her gaze from her phone. “Oh he’s cuter in person, nice job sis,” she said as she scanned Luke up and down. Y/N clenched her jaw as she guided Luke to sit at the dining table. They manuvered towards the empty side of the table, where she was closer to her dad and he was closer to her mom. 

“Luke, this is Jasmine. She tends to lack a filter when talking to people,” she explained as Luke pulled out Y/N’s chair for her to sit. She smiled towards him before she sat down. Luke sat down beside her, reaching for her hand desperately. She delicately interlocked their fingers as she moved her chair closer to him.

“Get a man who pulls out my chair for me,” she said as she mocks typing in her Notes App. Luke pulls his lips between his teeth as he feels his skin get hot.

“Are you doing okay?” Y/N whispered as she leaned towards him, he met her gaze and nodded.

It took a few more minutes before the rest of her family to join them all at the dinner table. Y/N reassuringly ran her thumb across the top of his hand beneath the table. It helped him calm down, feeling her touch on his skin. 

“Luke, how many days do you get off?” her mom asked as they all started to serve themselves food. 

“I get a week off and then I have practice the day before our next game,” he explained as he added salad to his plate. 

“Will you watch the All-Star games?” Elijah asked excitedly. Luke nodded.

“My brothers are there, I have to support them,” he said, meeting Elijah’s gaze. 

“I can’t believe my sister is dating an NHL player,” he said before he took a dramatic bite of his salad. Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s gaze. 

“Luke, Y/N told us you’ve only been in Jersey for about a year. Where were you before?” her mom asked as she put all of her attention on him.

“I was in Michigan, but I’ve been a bit everywhere,” he replied before taking another bite of his food. Y/N delicately rested her finger on his knee, delicately tracing reassuring circles. 

“That’s exciting,” her mom muttered. “How are you liking Jersey?” she asked. 

“I like it a lot. It's hard to enjoy the city when I’m traveling as much as I am but I plan to stay longer in the off season to experience it,” he explained. Y/N smiled towards him with so much admiration as he spoke. Her father watched the soft smile on his daughter’s lips.

Y/N’s brought home two other boys before Luke and her father couldn’t stand them. Mainly because she never looked happy around them, but she hasn’t stopped smiling since she was home with him.

“Can we come to one of your games?” Jasmine asked. Luke lifted his gaze, looking towards Y/N for assistance. 

“Let the kid chew his food before you ask him any more questions,” her dad interrupted. Luke met his dad’s gaze and chuckled as the rest of the table laughed along.

~~~

It was a few hours after they arrived and it was past ten o’clock and her parents were already in bed. Her siblings were in the living room with Luke and Y/N. They were all watching an episode of Friends. Y/N curled up to Luke’s side, his arm was draped along her shoulder as she was nuzzled into his chest. His hand would slowly trail from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. 

It was simple and easier than what Luke thought was going to happen. Her sister was funny and her brother was super nice. Her mom was overwhelmingly kind and her dad was slowly getting accustomed to his presence. 

“How long have you guys been together?” Jasmine asked out of nowhere. Y/N blinked slowly as she lifted her head from Luke’s chest. 

“Seven months,” she looked towards Luke and his lips turned upward slightly.

“Wow,” she muttered as she tilted her head back against the couch.

“Who asked who out?” Jasmine questioned again, Luke pursed his lips forward as his cheeks pinked up.

“I did,” he mumbled.

“How’d you do it?” Jasmine pressed with a smirk. 

He looked towards Y/N, raising his eyebrows as he asked for permission to tell her the story. 

They met through a mutual friend. Y/N’s friend, Zara, had a fling with Luke’s brother Jack for a few weeks around the playoffs run last year. After a Devils win, Y/N and Zara went out with the team to celebrate. 

While Y/N was completely uninterested in partying as well as Luke. The pair sat together and talked for several hours before they left. After they lost their playoff series, Jack and Zara fling ended horribly. Except Luke really wanted to see Y/N again. It took days to convince Jack to break no contact with Zara to get Y/N number. It worked.

They later found out that Y/N wanted her to do the same thing but Zara refused.

They spent the first month FaceTiming and texting all of the time. There was a hint of romantic tension but they never acted on it until Luke moved back to Jersey. It took thirty minutes into hanging out in person for him to ask her on a date. There was not an ounce of hesitation to say yes.

“So you guys didn’t see each other for another month?!” Jasmine asked. 

“He was back in Michigan, Jaz. It was a little hard,” Y/N said with a chuckle. 

“A bit of a long game then, Lukey Boy,” Elijah teased as he slapped his hand on the shoulder of Luke. Elijah took a long breath as he continued towards the set of stairs near the front door. “I’ll see you guys in the morning, don’t do anything weird in our house,” he said with a yawn as he walked up the stairs towards his room.

Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s eye.

“He’s a real gentleman, sis. It’s a shame there aren't more guys like him out there,” she mumbled as she dropped her gaze to the floor as she walked towards the stairs to her own room. 

Luke kept his gaze on Y/N as she watched her younger siblings leave them alone in the living room. He took a hold of her chin, delicately turning her gaze to look towards him. Their eyes met and he felt his body relax. Her eyes looked down towards his lips as she inched towards him, “Kiss me,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled as he glanced around the living room. “Please,” she mumbled. 

He slowly leaned towards her kissing her so delicately, not to make a scene. It had only been a few hours without feeling her lips against his and he missed it desperately. Her father had stepped down the stairs, stopping short. He looked towards the pair, desperately wanting to interrupt them. Luke’s hand slowly rested on her cheek as he pulled away, keeping his face close to hers. “You look beautiful,” he muttered.

Her lips curled upward slowly as she tilted her head to the side. “Thank you, Lukey,” she replied before she leaned towards him and rested her head onto his shoulder. 

Her father fought the smile forming to his lips as he watched the small interaction between them. The entire night, he watched Luke and Y/N put on a show of their relationship and happiness. It was comforting to watch them be fully themselves. He awkwardly shuffled down the stairs pretending that he didn’t see anything. Luke fully scooted away from Y/N as her father walked towards the kitchen.

“Are you ready for bed?” she whispered wide eyed and he nodded as a reply. 

They both stood up from the couch, out of habit Luke rested his hand onto her lower back as they walked towards the stairs. Her father smiled softly as he watched the pair climb the stairs towards her childhood bedroom. She walked towards the last room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open. 

Luke’s eyes lingered on each childhood photo of hers on the walls of the hallway. He stared the longest at a photo of her sitting in the center of a bean bag with Elijah and Jasmin in her arms. She was smiling shyly as her eyes were staring at her little sister. “That’s a nice picture,” he muttered as he pointed towards it. 

“I was terrified of holding them,” she muttered as they continued down the hall towards her bedroom.

Her room was extremely cleaned as her mother constantly kept it from being dusty. They stepped inside and she shut the door behind them instantly as she met his eyes. Her back was against the door as he rested his hands on her hips. 

“They like you,” she muttered as she ran her hands up and down his chest slowly. He shyly smiled while his cheeks flushed red. “I mean it, my dad would’ve said something if he didn’t,” she teased. 

“I like them too,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her and kissed her delicately.

[bonny-kookoo]

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | Welcome Home [Request]

Jungkook can't remember the last time you've been apart for so long. And with you gone, he might just go crazy- or make odd spontaneous decisions.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, they're so goofy, so much love, smut, lube? is that a warning?, bare sex (MC has an IUD), Jungkook got a haircut bc his girl was not around to make him contemplate his decisions before making them

Requested by: Miriwe on Patreon

Length: 2k words

-> Masterlist

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"I'm gone three days and you're already going crazy apparently." You laugh as you walk into the living room, where Jungkook is sitting on the couch, not having heard you walk in it seems like.

He immediately pauses his game to jump over the back of the furniture, almost tripping as he runs to you, picking you up to hold you close.

"Of course I went crazy!" He laughs, putting you down to your feet again to kiss you. "Had to spend three days in an empty bed without my fiancé." He laughs into his kisses, and you giggle. "Why didn't you tell me you were back? I would've picked you up from the airport." He whines a bit childishly, while you just shrug.

"Nah, would've caused too much of a commotion." You deny, reminding him of the fact that he's always causing some chaos whenever he's seen in public. "But putting that aside, when did you buzz it off?" You ask, fingers curiously running over the shaven sides of his head.

"Yesterday, actually." He chuckles. "My hair was getting in the way." He shrugs.

"So you decided 'oh yeah, I'm just gonna get even hotter while my girlfriend is away with her parents' like, excuse me?" You scold playfully.

"Fiancé, first of all, and I guess that already answers the question if it suits me." He laughs, happily correcting you in your own title.

"Ah, I can't believe I'm gonna get married to you." You swoon teasingly, smacking his chest once. "Now lemme go, I'm hungry." You say- but he's not letting you go at all. If anything, he pulls you even closer to himself.

"I'm hungry too." He tells you instead. You look at him in confusion.

"Okay? Then let me cook, idiot." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Nop." He denies, before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom, hand loudly smacking your ass.

"Jeon Jungkook, no!" You laugh. "Please, I'm so jetlagged from the flight-" You complain, but he lets you down gently on the unmade bed, sheets unruly from his nightly rest. He's not really been sleeping well without you home- the three days of not having you around truly reminding him of just how much he needs you in his life.

Not just to keep order, but in general.

As odd as it sounds, he even caught himself multiple times the first day calling out to you, just to remember you're not home. His mind expected you in bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, every single time he'd enter the room- and the kitchen felt lonely, suffocating, with no company but the buzzing fridge and ticking cat-shaped clock on the wall. His house suddenly felt.. bland.

Especially on the second day, when he came out of the shower just to find the bed cold and empty, he found himself sitting on the edge of it, looking through pictures of you and him on his phone, browsing his gallery for hours until he finally fell asleep. It was a reminder, those few days. A reminder that he needs you, that you're a part of his life he can't really bear to not have around anymore.

A reminder that he made the right decision in asking you to marry him, entering the final stage of your relationship.

"I'll do all the work baby." He purrs, crawling over you as you stretch your limbs, visibly relaxing in the familiar home once more. "How was your trip?" He wonders, and you laugh, his hands helping you out of your sweater.

"Kook, I love you, but I'm not talking about my goddamn parents when we're about to have sex." You complain, and he chuckles, nodding.

"Alright, you got a point." He admits, pulling down your pants and socks to kiss up your leg. "I missed you so much." He hums against your skin, and you smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

"So much so you buzzed your hair off?" You laugh, and he nods, teasingly biting at your thigh.

"Exactly." He agrees. "Would've gone bald if you'd stayed away a day longer." He says, lips traveling up your stomach before his hands cup your chest, running over to the back of your body to unhook your bra.

"Oh no!" You jokingly exclaim. "But honestly I think your face makes every haircut work. Even that Dora-the-Explorer situation you had a year back." You say, making him roll his eyes as he throws your bra down carelessly.

"Stop bringing that up." He complains, and you laugh brightly so.

"But it's funny!" You tell him, before he bites at your chest. "Hey, stop biting!" You giggle.

"Stop biting~!" He mimics you, before he moves to kiss your neck. "As if you don't love it." He purrs.

"Caught me." You reply, legs moving already to wrap around him. "Now get naked, nerd." You flirt, and he can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Can we be romantic at least once?" He whines, leaning back to rid himself of his shirt and pants.

"No, you'd burn the house down with those yankee-candles you got." You threaten, and he rolls his eyes yet again, opening the bedside drawer to search for a small bottle of scented lube, just in case.

"You really have no trust in me, baby." He shakes his head, putting the little plastic bottle on the side for now as he moves to pull your panties from your legs. "What if I used electrical ones?" He proposes. "Turn on some music. Cigarettes after sex- like, the band, not me smoking." He corrects.

"Obviously." You hum. "I'd leak your nudes if you smoked inside the house." You sigh, and he looks at you for a moment.

"That's a joke, right?" He asks, and you shrug, smiling at him. "That's a joke. You're joking." He states once more, but still, you don't answer. The funny part is that deep down, he actually believes you would indeed do that. You're a wildcard after all- he never  really knows if what you say is a joke or an actual fact you state.

Like when you said that he was fine accompanying his friend to his bachelor party, which was held at a nightclub, naked dancers included. You'd simply told him to have fun, but eat at home- and while for a moment or two, he didn't really know what you meant, he realized it soon after. You had no issue taking a look- hell, you constantly told him that some of the other racers were 'pretty hot', but he knows you'd never go after anyone but him. You might get your appetite up, yes-

but you eat at home.

"Jungkook you've never even sent me nudes you idiot!" You laugh after a moment of watching him clearly contemplating his life-choices up until now, finally realizing that you're right. "Or did you sent someone else some, huh?" You suddenly threaten, foot against his abs keeping him away from you while you glare.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head immediately. "You can bet your pretty ass on that." He says, as you remove your leg from him, hands now reaching out, inviting him back in. "Only got you-" He hums towards you, kissing your lips hungrily. "Only need you." He finishes, and you sigh, hands on his arms.

"Missed you." You admit. "Couldn't sleep well at all." You say, and he smiles.

"Me neither." He shakes his head. "Thought about you way too much." Jungkook tells you, while his hand travels between your legs, touch reviving your soul it feels like as he works you up.

"We're so in love, it's actually kinda disgusting." You laugh, and he joins in on that.

"Nah." He denies. "We're just the definition of love." He shrugs, curling his fingers inside you, making you arch your back.

"Jungkook please-" You whine. "Stop teasing me, I'm way too horny now!" You complain, and he grins, moving to stroke his length with the hand still covered in your arousal.

He's just as impatient, but he also knows he needs to prep you well. Years of being in a relationship with you also comes with in-depth knowledge of your body, and how to love you just right. You might not realize it sometimes, but he knows that if he doesn't pay good attention to detail, you'll be sore tomorrow-

and he plans on making up for those three days, just to remind you what you've been missing.

He reaches for the tiny bottle on the bedside table to squeeze some of the clear liquid out, making sure to make it as comfortable as possible for you, before he lines himself up with your entrance, moving your legs up a little to pull you closer. It's been something you've been quite insecure about- having refused to admit to him for months that he's packing a bit too much for you to handle without any help sometimes, and he's felt bad that you thought you couldn't tell him. Back then, he'd been insecure himself- with no prior knowledge about anything regarding sex, you've been both a little lost in translation on some occasions.

There's been more than a handful of awkward moments during your times together- and by now, you're both comfortable to the point where nothing is weird any longer.

The sweet smell of sweet strawberries fills the air faintly as he pushes himself in, sighing in bliss at the familiar feel of your body welcoming him. "Good?" He asks you, and you nod, making him tap your nose so you open your eyes again. "Really?" He asks again, and you move a bit now, nodding. It's the confirmation he needed to start moving, leaning back on his heels to roll his hips forwards, your lower body resting over his thighs as he keeps you elevated like that with his hands holding your legs. You've got your arms relaxed into the pillows over your head, eyes closed as your chest sways with every thrust he delivers.

He loves having you back. Not just your body- but you, in general.

"I wanna come with you next time." He tells you, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs. "Don't care if they like me or not." He growls, never slowing down his pace.

"Jungkookie~!" You whine, before laughing. "What did I say literally- like- twenty minutes ago?" You complain, and he laughs too, nodding.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, letting go of your legs to lean over you, kissing you once more. It's the only way he knows he'll shut up for long enough- there's just so much rushing through his head, everything that's happened in those three days trying to break out his mouth just to talk to you- because he can talk to you now. You're back home, and he just missed you so fucking much.

Now, of course you talked over the phone daily, sure. But it's just not the same. It's not close enough.

Right now, he's out of breath, forced to part from you just a little, leaning his face into the crook of your neck as he presses his pelvis into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close, arms around his neck keeping him from parting from you. "I love you so much." He hums against your skin, picking up his pace, exhaling through his nose as his jaw clenches, orgasm approaching quickly. His hand assists you by finding your most sensitive spot, pushing you over the edge so he can let go as well, your core clenching around his length to keep him in, milk him for all he's got.

He's out of breath, and so are you- his body simply laying down close to you, moving you around to lay over him, still inside you. "Kook, I'm sticky-" You whine, but he just smiles, hands smacking your butt. "Jungkook!" You scold, laughing, and he simply reaches for your face, to peck your lips.

Twice. Because once is just never enough.

[octuscle]

Hey I love to become Stereotypical blonde football player guy with amazing muscles and a hairy body

"Why don't you take this spring break too, darling?" "Why don't you relax after your first semester, you've been so hard-working, boy" You can't hear it anymore. After the exams, you would have loved to go to the mountains. Hiking. And explore the starry sky at night. But no, you gave in to pressure from your parents and set off for South Beach in your ancient VW Jetta. This is going to be endlessly embarrassing. You're pale, chubby, completely untrained. You're a virgin. No one has ever sucked your pathetic little cock. And you've never sucked anyone else. For your taste, it should have stayed that way. But now it's Florida. And you don't even drink alcohol.

Your father actually found a cassette entitled "Freshman's Guide to Spring Break". It's embarrassing enough that you only have a cassette player in the car. You listened to your beloved 12-tone music during the whole journey. Schönberg was a genius after your own heart. But now, just under an hour before your destination, you put the cassette in. Accompanied by hip-hop, someone speaks in a nasty slang. You can just imagine the guy Football-Jock. One of the guys who bullied you at college last year. "Yo, dude! let me tell you ha to get da hottest spring break. You'll have more sex n more fun dan you can imagine." You take a deep breath. This is going to be great… "You should start uh year in advance n get your muscles burning every day. An important motto of spring break is n remains 'sun's out, guns out'." Well bravo, then you can turn around right away. What kind of stupid advice is that an hour before you get out of the car? A little late, perhaps, to… Damn it! Your muscles are swelling. And in your head, a profound knowledge of the gym matures. Hey, the gym is your home. "Bruh, last haircut maximum three months before you go to da beach. Yes, your mommy will be sad about da messy look at christmas. But uh surfer's mane is best for da beach." You said it, dude. You think to yourself. Your hair is flapping in the wind. You love it. "N bruh, don't wash your hair two weeks before. You can smell da sweat from your football helmet in your hair." Hehehe, sure thing. Showering sucks, but washing your hair is for wimps. You love the look when you take your helmet off after the game and your sweaty hair lies wildly on your head. "My tip, dude, is that da last time you shave is two weeks before spring break. Nah one wants uh clean shaven guy on da beach. N while we're on da subject of shaving. You can shave your chest again four days before you get ta steppin. Da stubble on your mighty pecs looks hot." The traffic is getting heavier. More and more party-addicted students are clogging up the streets. You scratch your chest. Yes, the bruh with the podcast coming from the sick speakers of your powerful new car knows all about it.

"So dude, before you hit da road, one last workout. You'll have somethin other dan sport on your mind for da next few days. Nah more showers afta training n keep your training clothes on for da journey." It already smells a bit in the car. But it's the stench of youthful masculinity. Up ahead is the guesthouse where the others from your football team are staying. Some of them are already there. And obviously already drunk. The podcast said that the most important accessory in the car is the cool can of beer for the arrival. Hell yes! You park the car, get out, rip open the can, drink the beer on ex and crush the can between your forearm and biceps. Spring break is only once a year. Let the games begin!

[vivmaek]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART SEVEN (roast edition)

Libra Suns are soo oblivious sometimes. I can never tell if they’re doing it to get something or if they’re actually having a dumb blond moment. 

People with Mars in the 2nd house need to learn how to share. They become territorial over their possessions. As children, they were the types of kids to show off a cool toy and then go, “but you can’t play with this one because it's special.” 

Mars in Pisces are the types to make a passive aggressive comment under their breath, and then when someone calls them out, they go, “I didn’t say anything!” 

When people who have Mercury in the 8th house become obsessed about something, they will never shut up about it. Just when you think you’ve managed to steer conversation into a new direction, they will find a way to bring up whatever topic is plaguing their mind. 

Pluto in Sagittarius generation is so self-righteous. Everyone is overly aggressive with their opinions, everyone thinks they’re right, and everyone is under the impression that we’re going to be these revolutionary radicals who will serve justice to those oppressed when most spend their time on the internet trying to cancel people. Like seriously we get so heated over nothing sometimes. I think that's because this generation really struggles with misdirected passion. I’m excited for these Pluto in Aquarius babies tho 

Aries Moons and their temper tantrums, that's all. 

People who have their Mars in Taurus will destroy things when they get angry, literally like a raging bull. They make a mess and fling things around, like what is that accomplishing?? And then afterwards they clean it up like nothing ever happened. 

The uncomfortable look on a Gemini Moon's face when someone starts to cry, they wanna leave asap and are looking for the nearest exit. 

Leos will cry, scream, and throw a fit over their hair. DO NOT MESS WITH THEIR HAIR. It's the one quality they like about themselves. A bad haircut or color treatment will have them SPIRALING. Like a serious identity crisis. They die inside when someone goes, “It's just hair, it will grow back.” 

Mercury Libras and the lies they spread! They lie about the smallest things and it's usually in an effort to people-please. 

People with their Mars in Sagittarius are psychos when they're mad. They lack the foresight to see how they’re putting themselves and others in danger. I’d say they are the most likely to carry out some form of revenge.

If you’re dealing with someone who has their Venus in the 8th house, make sure to establish some firm boundaries. They will just keep taking if you let them.

Venus 11th housers cause so much drama every time they develop feelings for one of their friends, I never seen this not cause tension within a friend group. 

12th house stelliums and the way they always maintain distance, and everytime you get too close they pull back, actually super frustrating. Also the silent treatments they pull! They’re not even doing it to punish, they're just doing it because they’re uncomfortable, but it still ends up feeling like a punishment for the other person.  

Mercury in Taurus individuals are sometimes too blunt. I honestly really love this quality hehe, but I have to admit they’ve offended me just by pointing out the obvious. 

Aries 11th housers always feel like they’re in competition with their friends. 

Moon Trine Uranus and crying at the most unexpected things. I have this friend that I’ve known since middle school, never saw her cry once. Even when we graduated and said our goodbyes for college, nothing. Then a year later, we were watching the finale for Euphoria together, and this girl started bawling at the end. I was like out of all the things to make you cry this is it?? Haha, I love her. 

The Pluto in Virgo generation hands out criticisms left and right. If my friend's parents had this placement, I always felt like they were judging me. 

Capricorns and their obsession with money, and also how they fail to realize that not everyone else is driven by monetary gains. 

Aquarius’s love to act like their egos aren’t big. The only reason why Leos get checked more on this is because of their bold sense of expression. 

[vindicated-truth]

“You look well, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

Jeongje tilts his head and languidly takes his seat across his most consistent, most frequent visitor.

“That’s what you already said the last time you came, Lieutenant Han.” Jeongje smirks. “I think by this time you can be honest enough to do away with the polite pleasantries and tell me straight to my face if I look like hell.”

The corner of Joowon’s mouth quirks. “You could use a haircut. And a shave.”

“What, the grown out prison look isn’t dashing on me?”

“… You did just ask me to tell you the truth.”

Jeongje laughs. Han Joowon is still honest to a fault, albeit softer and warmer around the edges—less prickly and more receptive to teasing.

Gentler.

Happier.

It’s amazing what a year can do to a person.

How it can change them.

Jeongje decides to test the limits of how much he can actually tease the younger man. “So, Lieutenant Han. How’s your dear old father?”

Joowon arches an eyebrow. “Still in prison. How’s your sweet old mother?”

Jeongje grins at the way Joowon gives it as good as he gets. It’s the one defining aspect of Joowon’s that he’s glad has never changed. “Still in prison.”

He can see the way Joowon struggles to keep his face impassive, and doesn’t miss the way Joowon clamps his lips together to fight the smile threatening to form.

A year ago, Jeongje could’ve never predicted this kind of humor as a coping mechanism in their shared trauma of having similar parents.

A year ago, Jeongje could’ve never even conceived of the notion that the one person he’ll end up having the most in common with—is Lieutenant Han Joowon.

He wonders what his therapist might think of it all. He resolves to tell her next time. He’s been talking a lot about the people of Manyang, after all.

Especially one person, in particular.

Jeongje brightens as Joowon pushes the carefully packed food containers across the table. He eagerly rummages its contents, eyes widening in delight at the sight of his favorites. The aroma is enticing, and it immediately makes his mouth water. “Jaeyi-ya’s specialties, I presume?”

It’s then that Joowon smiles, warm and sincere. “No better quality meat in the whole of Munju. Possibly even the whole of Gyeonggi-do.”

Jeongje meets Joowon’s eyes just then. There’s a pang in his heart at the realization.

Joowon is a regular at Jaeyi’s butcher shop now. The way Jeongje used to be.

Joowon, ever the profiler, must have seen something flash in Jeonge’s face just then, because Joowon’s own expression inexplicably gentles. “Yoo Jaeyi-ssi sends her apologies for once again being unable to visit.” Joowon clasps his hands together on the table and leans forward as pride—candid and genuine—colors both his face and his tone. “Her business is booming so much recently that she’s finally been able to provide her shop its much needed renovations.”

“I see,” Jeongje says quietly. “I haven’t seen it for myself just yet.”

Something in Joowon’s face falls then, and Jeongje gently shakes his head to forestall the unneeded apology already forming on Joowon’s lips.

Joowon is trying so hard, and Jeongje really can’t fault him for any of it.

“Like I said, Lieutenant Han,” Jeongje offers him a small smile. “After all this time, you can be honest with me now. You can give it to me straight if Jaeyi-ya’s still not ready to see me.”

After all, she isn’t the only one who hasn’t visited yet. 

Joowon regards Jeongje thoughtfully. He has always been a man of honesty, so he doesn’t bother to offer Jeongje a comforting lie. This has always been a defining trait of his, and Jeongje is glad to see that this aspect of Joowon’s character remains intact.

There are so few people of principle left, and Jeongje doesn’t think he can handle seeing one more person close to him being corrupted by the system.

(His own mother has been enough.)

However, it seems like Joowon also believes there’s no need for unnecessary cruelty either, so much to Jeongje’s surprise, he remains quietly contemplative instead.

This kindness, this consideration for other people’s feelings—this is slowly becoming new for Han Joowon.

He’s changing, Jeongje realizes in awe.

“I’ve brought more gifts for you,” Joowon announces instead as he reaches under the table for his own package.

“You have?” Jeongje raises his eyebrows as a smile slowly creeps across his face at the newfound ammunition to tease. “With how often you visit me and bring me gifts, Lieutenant Han, it feels like you’re courting me.”

Joowon shoots him a look of mild disgust. “You’re not my type.”

“Of course I’m not,” Jeongje grins. “I figured one of your requirements for a date is someone who’s not in prison.”

“… I can take this back, you know.”

Jeongje laughs. “Give it here, Lieutenant Han, since you already came all this way.”

Joowon heaves a long-suffering sigh as he grudgingly sets the box on the table. This huffiness, too, remains amusingly the same about Han Joowon, and Jeongje will always enjoy any opportunity to annoy him. 

Joowon makes it so easy after all. Jeongje imagines this is why everyone in Manyang enjoys teasing him too.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He pulls the box towards him and opens it.

He inhales sharply. For a brief moment, Jeongje forgets how to breathe.

He can feel Joowon’s gaze on him as the younger man explains. “I figured you must have run out of your stock of supplies by now.”

And because Jeongje will never, ever ask, he’s deeply, heartrendingly grateful when it’s Joowon who takes the initiative to softly add:

“Lee Dongsik-ssi helped me source the right materials, because he knows your art style the best.”

Jeongje swallows thickly as he gazes at the art set: sketchpads, pencils, charcoal, pastels, erasers, and the like. And to Jeongje’s trained eye, it all seems to be of top-grade material too, which seems like an unnecessary splurge for someone with a Lieutenant’s salary—especially because Jeongje knows the courts have currently frozen the Han family bank accounts and assets while Han Kihwan is still undergoing his appeals.

Jeongje doesn’t know what to do with the way the thought makes his chest constrict painfully, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I—I’m not sure the guards will allow me to keep this.”

“Oh, they will.”

Jeongje’s gaze snaps up to Joowon at that. Joowon is only calmly watching him, but there’s steel in his eyes and a firm set of his lips at the surety of the declaration that Jeongje is forcefully reminded of the fact that Joowon is a Han.

There’s a quiet power emanating from Joowon that makes Jeongje thankful, and not for the first time, that Joowon has a moral compass entirely opposite that of his father’s.

Because this power of making people bend to his will—it runs in the Han family bloodline. And it seems like Joowon is no exception.

He just chooses to enact it differently.

Oddly, Jeongje finds a strange comfort in that thought: that children can turn out differently from their own parents.

He wills his hands to remain steady as he replaces the cover and sets it aside. 

Joowon blinks as he follows Jeongje’s movements. He gestures at the box. “Aren’t you going to check the contents more thoroughly?”

“I trust in the quality of your taste, Lieutenant Han. You have the best taste in the whole of Munju. Possibly the whole of Gyeonggi-do. And the entirety of Seoul. And—”

“Alright, Park Jeongje-ssi, there is no need for flattery.”

Jeongje grins. “Speaking of flattery.”

He’s amused at how he seems to have completely befuddled the great Lieutenant as he brings out his own offerings and places it on the table between them. “I actually have gifts for you, too.” He hesitates for a brief moment and plunges through the explanation before he can second-guess himself. “For both of you.”

Joowon looks at him. Jeongje knows he doesn’t have to clarify who the other person is.

“The one on top is for him. The one below it is for you.”

Joowon’s hands are steadier than Jeongje’s as he pulls the used sketchbooks to himself. He meets Jeongje’s gaze once more, and Jeongje smiles at the banked curiosity he sees there, tempered only by Joowon’s respect for privacy.

This, too, is new. 

Jeongje watches how Joowon is about to courteously set aside the top sketchbook and gently points out, “You can look through it too, Lieutenant Han. I don’t mind.”

There’s a tightness in Joowon’s shoulders that relaxes at that. Permission granted, Joowon acquiesces and carefully flips open the first sketchbook.

Jeongje sees the way Joowon’s eyes widen at the first page. He keeps on flipping, and his eyes keep on widening, and widening.

Suddenly awash by an insecurity that he hasn’t felt in a long time, Jeongje opens his mouth and is about to ask for Joowon’s thoughts on his work when Joowon himself beats him to it.

“These are incredible.”

Han Joowon’s defining aspect to his character has always been his unabashed and unfiltered honesty, and the quiet intensity of it knocks the breath out of Jeongje’s lungs.

“I can see why you fell in love with her,” Joowon murmurs as he slowly peruses all the pages Jeongje has painstakingly—lovingly—sketched, capturing different angles and profiles in shades of shadow and light. “Considering she is Lee Dongsik-ssi’s twin, there has never been any doubt about how beautiful Lee Yuyeon-ssi is.”

Jeongje stills, wondering if Joowon is aware of what he has just unwittingly revealed about his own heart.

This, too, is something he unexpectedly shares with Han Joowon, one that Jeongje could have never, ever predicted a year ago:

Falling in love with a Lee twin.

“I was afraid I would forget what she looked like,” Jeongje says quietly, and Joowon’s gaze drags up to meet his. He smiles at Joowon wanly, knowing that Joowon won’t ask about her—the way Jeongje won’t ask about her twin. “Ironically, my time here made me remember. My memory became sharper after I stopped all the meds.”

Something in Joowon’s gaze softens. “I’m glad.”

Not good for you, the way his mother would praise him before with her backhanded compliments.

I’m glad.

Bare honesty laced with a sincere kindness Jeongje has never been privy to, before. Han Joowon, a mere stranger just a year ago, is now genuinely happy for him.

He drops his gaze as his vision shimmers. This, too, is new.

“And then I thought,” Jeongje murmurs, “that because of me… her brother doesn’t get to have any more pictures of Yuyeonie.”

The silence settles heavily for a beat before Joowon speaks.

“The fault is not entirely your own, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

No sugarcoating, as expected. Han Joowon’s moral compass is indefatigable, and he won’t absolve Jeongje of his sins.

And yet—

Jeongje lifts his head, and sees mirrored in Joowon’s eyes the same heaviness Jeongje carries in his heart.

And yet… Han Joowon is willing to share the weight of the blame.

Even if it isn’t his to carry.

“I know this doesn’t make up for my sins even if I spent the rest of my life repenting for them.” Jeongje’s lips are trembling as he smiles sadly at Joowon. “It doesn’t matter, because this isn’t for me. This isn’t for my forgiveness.”

His gaze drops to the drawing on the open page in front of Joowon.

Lee Yuyeon, the 20-year-old bright young girl full of promise, the cherished gem of her parents and the apple of her twin brother’s eye, Manyang’s most promising future lawyer.

Jeongje’s first and last love.

Radiant, joyful, full of life. Forever untarnished in this charcoal image of her youth and happiness.

The only girl Jeongje has ever felt a love so pure for, like this.

“It’s for him. Because he deserves to see more of Yuyeonie, too.”

He looks up at Joowon.

“Dongsik-ah…” Jeongje swallows thickly. “He deserves to remember Yuyeonie like this.”

Joowon looks down at the sketchbook. His fingers skim the drawing paper, touch feather-light, as his fingers trace the outline of Yuyeon’s long hair.

Jeongje used to thread his fingers through her hair just like that, once upon a time. She would tilt her head up and close her eyes, long lashes settling on those rosy cheeks, and Jeongje would lean down and give her the kiss she’d wordlessly ask for.

He wished he had at least kissed her goodbye, that night at the deer farm, had he known it would be their last.

Joowon exhales slowly and gently closes the sketch pad. He settles it to one side.

Only one other sketchbook remains. Joowon opens it.

His hand freezes in mid-air as soon as he sees its contents.

And at that moment, Jeongje realizes how foolishly mistaken he and the rest of the people of Manyang had been for once judging Han Joowon as a soulless, cold little prince from Seoul.

Joowon slowly lowers his hand and settles it gently—lovingly—on the meticulously drawn artwork of Lee Dongsik.

Jeongje’s gaze follows Joowon’s movements as his shaking fingers trace over Dongsik’s hair, the shell of his ear, the crinkle in those eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, to finally linger on those plush lips as Dongsik smiles.

Jeongje hasn’t realized he’s been holding his breath. An inexplicable embarrassed warmth suddenly suffuses him; he feels strangely like a voyeur, like he isn’t supposed to witness something that should’ve been kept private.

Jeongje has never, ever seen anyone wear their heart so openly like this.

“I—” Joowon starts to say, and god damn the boy sounds so breathless. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

Jeongje stares. “What?”

Tremblingly, Joowon curls his fingers into a fist as he retracts his hand. “It must be borne out of your long history with him, to have seen him looking like this.” Joowon’s eyes are rueful when he meets Jeongje’s gaze—his smile sad. “I’ve never seen Lee Dongsik-ssi this way before.”

Jeongje looks down at his own drawing. There’s a tenderness in Dongsik’s expression that Jeongje has tried his best to capture to the best of his memory, especially because the startling image of it has seared itself onto his brain.

Thirty years of friendship, and it’s the very first time Dongsik has ever looked like that.

Jeongje drags his gaze back up at the other man. “Do you know what he’s looking at here?”

Joowon startles at the unexpected question, then shakes his head, frowning.

Han Joowon has always hated it whenever he realizes he lacks pertinent information, and it makes Jeongje gape at him in disbelief.

He doesn’t know. Han Joowon doesn’t know.

“Lieutenant Han,” Jeongje says slowly. “Dongsik-ah was looking at you.”

There’s an astounded, shell-shocked expression Joowon always has on his face when he discovers evidence that completely alters the theories of his investigation.

It’s the one he’s wearing on his face right now.

“What are you talking about?” Joowon quietly demands, his tone a strange mix of frustration and tentative hope that Jeongje can’t help but sympathize with.

It’s fascinating, really, how for a detective at the top of the game, Han Joowon has clearly missed all the clues.

“I was in love with Yuyeonie for ten years, you know.” A wistful smile touches Jeongje’s lips at the memory. “She got tired of waiting for me, so she was the one who made the first move.”

Jeongje rests his elbows on the table and leans toward Joowon. He juts his chin towards the sketchbook laid open between them.

“Her brother, unfortunately, isn’t as smart. She’s always been the brainy one of the pair.”

Joowon’s gaze flickers down. Slowly, he flips over to the next page. It’s another angle of Dongsik, this time with his head thrown back, his eyes crinkling in laughter.

The entire countenance of Joowon’s stiff posture visibly softens. Jeongje wonders if Joowon is aware of how his face mirrors the same tenderness and warmth captured in the charcoal image of the man he loves.

Jeongje knows this, because Dongsik is the same.

Because Dongsik’s eyes crinkle in happiness the same way as Yuyeon does whenever she used to look at Jeongje.

Jeongje intimately knows, more than anyone, how a Lee twin looks like when they’re in love, too.

“You, however, seem to have the brains to rival hers.”

Joowon’s eyes flits up towards him briefly in question. Jeongje smiles back at him wryly.

“You’re gonna have to do the smart thing, too.”

Joowon is quiet as he peruses each page, revealing more of Dongsik’s myriad of expressions. Like a detective examining crucial evidence, Joowon is studying each page more thoroughly, drinking every single detail.

It’s like he’s seeing Dongsik for the very first time.

Jeongje waits patiently as he watches Joowon process everything. Han Joowon always gets to the right conclusion eventually.

Joowon reaches the last page, and seeing that there isn’t anything more, closes the sketchbook.

The silence between them is heavily laden.

“I don’t think I’m as brave as her.”

Jeongje’s gaze is steady as Joowon hesitantly meets his eyes. And Jeongje could have never predicted this a year ago, for him to be the one to clearly see through all the masks:

Underneath all that brave posturing is an insecure little boy, one who has never quite felt he is good enough, after being convinced all his life that he clearly isn’t.

By his own family.

This, too, is something Jeongje understands far, far too well.

“You brought down your own father for him, Lieutenant Han,” Jeongje tells him softly, meaning it with all his heart. “You’re braver than anyone I know.”

Joowon looks at him thoughtfully for a long moment. Jeongje holds his gaze, letting the younger man look his fill, letting him take the courage he needs.

“So did you.”

Jeongje startles. Joowon tilts his head, and finally lets a gentle smile grace his lips, too.

“You brought down your own mother for him, too.”

Joowon places a hand over the sketchbook and caresses the cover knowingly. He isn’t looking at Jeongje, yet the words pierce through Jeongje’s ribs to land straight on his heart all the same.

“You love him, too.”

Jeongje has to abruptly look away. Honesty without reservation, impactful in its simplicity.

In its encompassing truth. 

Han Joowon always arrives at the right conclusion eventually.

Out of nowhere, Jeongje feels fresh tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. “Not—”

To his horror, his voice suddenly cracks, and he inhales deeply to steady his breathing as he returns his gaze to the man in front of him.

It’s Han Joowon this time who is calmly letting himself be the anchor Jeongje needs.

“Not as well as you do.” Jeongje’s mouth trembles, his voice watery. “You love him the best.”

Han Joowon’s defining aspect to his character has always been his unabashed and unfiltered honesty. He has never seen the need to fill in silences with aimless denials or sweet lies.

So he doesn’t this time, either—and wordlessly accepts the simple truth of Jeongje’s statement.

It makes Jeongje smile.

He watches as Joowon carefully takes both sketchbooks, handling them like they’re something precious and fragile as he prepares to take them with him. He then reaches over to retrieve his own gift and slides the box in front of Jeongje once more.

“I’ve brought more coloring materials for you here,” is Joowon’s odd non-sequitur of an explanation.

Jeongje blinks. “Are you saying my drawings need more color?” Jeongje narrows his eyes as he clutches his chest in faux offense; he’s pretty sure he isn’t fooling Joowon in the slightest anyway. “Are you saying they aren’t good enough?” He teases, glad and deeply grateful to be back on familiar ground.

“Yoo Jaeyi-ssi is looking to decorate the windows of her butcher shop with flower stencils.” Joowon’s expression suddenly pinches, like he’s tasted something sour. “Something about livening up the place with color.”

The corner of Jeongje's mouth twitches. “You must be the minimalist and monochrome type. I can’t imagine you and Jaeyi-ya ever agreeing on interior design.” Jeongje grins. “Or anything else, for that matter.”

Joowon glares at him, unable to deny any of it. Jeongje laughs. “Why are you telling me this, Lieutenant Han?”

And Han Joowon, the brat that he is, only looks at Jeongje like Jeongje is dumb.

“Because she wants you to design the stencils for her.”

And for the first time in a very, very long time, Jeongje feels something painfully familiar flutter weakly inside his chest, like the quivering of a hatchling’s new wings.

And he wouldn’t have predicted a year ago for Han Joowon, of all people, to be the harbinger of that hope.

The hope for a second chance.

The hope—that he’s still welcome.

“And Lee Dongsik-ssi,” Han Joowon tells him with a smile, “wants to remind you that Lee Yuyeon-ssi’s favorites are balsam flowers.”

[ellstronaut]

I just saw your last post and it'd like to ask, do you have any actual accurate ellie fanfiction recommendations? like, idk, fluff or something

Omg YES anon!!! pls tell me what you think of these and don’t shy away from sliding into my dms (plssss my hands hurt the list is lengthy 💀)

WRITERS THANK U FOR UR SERVICE <3

BY FAR MY MOST FAV FIC EVER WOULD DO ANYTHING TO WIPE MY MEMORY AND RE-READ

(If you wanna know what life was like for Ellie and her loved ones in Jackson > you won’t be disappointed > basically fills in the gaps of Ellie’s journal)

Jackson Days @ehefic (Ellie’s pov)

Oasis @ehefic (Dina’s pov)

FAV DELLIE FICS

(anything by watery sun she writes the perfect blend of fluff-smut-angst not to mention I’ve never read such a unique pov in my life damn)

hey, murderer @watery-sun

mirth (bars a thousand harms) @watery-sun

BRO I SWEAR IT’LL CHANGE UR LIFE

(no tags couldn’t find their @s on tumblr)

More important

You’re all the things I’ve got to remember

There’s no one like you

all I know is there’s no where I’d rather be

caught in the act

Midnight love

MY FAV X READERS FICS COULD READ A MILLION TIMES WISH I COULD TATTOO ON MY BODY

I saw you in a dream @elliesflower

don’t you dare fall in love @ohcaptains

honeybun @blackgrlficsnthings

THIS KINDA ELLIE MAKES ME WEAK; BLURBS, ONE SHOTS, DRABBLES, HCS

you’re doing your nightly skincare routine and a sleepy ellie joins you. @ijtaimes

barista ellie headcannons @ellabsbb

my brain is just filled to the brim of what cuddling with ellie would be like... @elsgooglyeyes

Ellie would definitely go into the store room and just do that silent scream @moodywyrm

bumping into Ellie wasted at a night club @coeurify

thinking about reader giving ellie a haircut and fucking up the front lol. @bellswlw

i wholeheartedly believe she wouldn’t understand the point of clear lipgloss. @elsweetheart

ellie giving reader a piggyback when reader is too tired to walk @elsweetheart

sleepy smut with ellie where they’re keeping quiet to themselves and it’s fluffy @me-and-your-husband

While Ellie leaves her office for a moment, leaving her stream unattended, you sneak in. @elliesmainhoe

THE ATTRACTIVE THINGS ELLIE WILLIAMS DOES @luvsellie

ellie is that girlfriend who arrives at your dorm door the second she receives a "they're not here" text. @dykeomania

thinking about what ellie’s social media probably looks like. @beanlot

Ellie & you get interrupted while being in the moment @losingherface

Dealer!ellie with a reader who bites affectionately @elsweetheart

i just know ellie is the best kisser, even to the point where she gets flustered. @elsweetheart

You and Ellie have just settled onto the farm and you noticed her hair is getting a little long, so as a nice girlfriend you offer to cut it. :) @koitrash

domestic hcs with ellie. w <3 @kurosaaki

clingy!reader wanting ellie's attention when she's playing video games and just like climbing into her lap @elsweetheart

reader is ellie's gf and she's a virgin and Ellie pop her cherry but Ellie is like really sweet and go slow n shit @hotxcheeto

okay but college!ellie being so excited to come to your room on the last day of the semester, @sp4cepunisher

Ellie's love language @astroels

Reader drags her long time girlfriend to meet her parents at their summer vacation home. The two share a very embarrassing moment together @losingherface

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 11

What Happens in the After

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~10.9K

WARNINGS: Triggers for discussion of childhood abandonment / absentee parents. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / oral (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, creampie / Minors DNI

A/N: And so we come to the end of this little story. Thank you to each and every one of you who have shown interest, shared, commented, and supported me in general throughout this little journey. I can't tell you how much I have looked forward to your comments on these, the beautifully phrased ones and the incoherent screaming ones alike. My inbox is always open for incoherent screaming about these two.

Chapter Moodboard

A note: This chapter takes place in Jamaica, which was impacted this week by Hurricane Beryl. I'm always hesitant to tell people what to do with and where to send their money, but if you are so inclined, I would urge you to make even a small donation to a reputable organization that aligns with your beliefs to help provide aid to Jamaica and the wider Caribbean in the wake of that storm.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

There’s a soft shave and a haircut knocked against the door to the hut.

She has a backpack slung over her shoulder and one hand stuffed into the pockets of cargo shorts. 

The other hand’s wrapped around the dregs of her welcome drink. 

And to Frankie’s grief-sore eyes, Audrey looks like hope dredged from the bottom of his chest and given a heartbeat.

He steps aside and allows her in and as she slips past she doesn’t reach for him. 

“Hi,” he whispers when he shuts the door. 

“Hi,” she echoes.

She reflexively twists to avoid his hand when he reaches to help her out of her backpack. 

And it twists Frankie’s viscera.

“How was your flight?” He rakes a hand through his curls. He has the louvers shut and the hut is lit only by the faintest glow of sunlight through the cracks. 

“Yeah, was good.”

“Where were you coming from?”

“Why am I here, Frankie?” Audrey asks gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“I’m trying to show you that I mean it.”

“Why.”

Because I need you.

You keep me from using.

You remind me who I am.

It all rattles around his brain. 

And yet none of it feels like it’s enough.

Because what about her…

What about her. What about him is worth anything to her. How could he ever be. The addict. The body.

She doesn’t need him to fix her car or make her come.

She doesn’t even need him to watch her six.

“Stay with me?” Is what he asks instead. “Here. For a few days.” 

In the smallest voice she’s ever heard him use. 

Not even languid words lazed across the velvet of her skin after she’s poured pleasure into his blood have ever reached this level of softness.

And she puts her backpack down on wood planks because she realizes he’s ready to apologize but hasn’t yet found the words.

She walks over to the doors that lead out to the balcony and flips both sets of louvers open. “You seen the beach yet?”

“Haven’t made it out.”

“It’s nice. Get changed,” she nods towards the bathroom door, stepping out of Frankie’s path.

His palms burn as he slips through to the bathroom.

She's no different with him as they laze in the sun.

No different except that she hasn't touched him, or reached out for him in kind.

Condensation drips from a chilled bottle of water and lands on her inner thigh, slipping because it’s pulled by gravity, and gravity taunts Frankie as his eyes follow the drop’s trajectory from behind dark lenses.

The dew of sweat highlights the curve of her breasts and Frankie catches a pale man who looks as though he considers mayonnaise a spice glare as he passes them on the sand.

Frankie taps on her chair to signal that he’s heading into the ocean and dives furiously the moment he makes it out far enough.

He can’t clear his head.

He can’t find the words.

Trevor, a benevolent bartender, attempts to give him a word of advice.

“You love that girl?”

And Frankie stares hard into his melting rum punch and then back up at kind, light brown eyes.

“I do.”

“Tell her, brother. Woman like that? Once in a lifetime and you’re gonna lose her.”

“She doesn’t need me.”

“No woman needs a man, brother.”

“She doesn’t love me.”

“She does.” He skates a rag over the bartop without looking up. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Audrey’s in the sea and doesn’t see Frankie staring with the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

He tips Trevor treble for the drink.

The bartender’s words rattle around Frankie’s brain the rest of the day.

That night Audrey’s cradled in white cotton with her nose in a book when he emerges from having brushed his teeth.

Frankie fishes the spare comforter out of the closet and moves to the left side of the bed, pulling a pillow from next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

And she offers half a laugh.

“Frankie—“

“It’s fine, I—“

“Frankie you’re not sleeping on the floor, that’s insane,” she gazes at him incredulously through the gauze of the mosquito net.

“I wanna give you your space.”

“It’s a king sized bed, Francisco, we’ve slept on far smaller…”

They’ve slept on far smaller under friendlier circumstances. Frankie’s broad, heavy form draped over her back, his nose nuzzled in her hair.

It flashes through his brain.

“I’ll sleep on the day bed.”

“Frankie you’re gonna get eaten alive by every biting insect in Jamaica, you’re not sleeping outside. You’re gonna get fucking Dengue. If it bothers you that much I can go down to reception and book another hut it’s fine,” she peels back the comforter and moves to climb off the bed.

“No.” It rushes from his mouth. “No, no don’t leave.”

He puts the pillow back on the bed.

Lengthwise.

Between them.

And grabs another for his head.

It irritates her enough that she nearly forgets that he still hasn’t apologized. She nearly reaches over the physical barrier between them to pull it from behind his teeth with her tongue.

She closes her eyes and breathes in and out through her nose.

And turns back to her book.

The next day they barely speak but to coordinate showers, which beach they’re going to visit, what one wants to drink when the other is heading to the beach bar.

Audrey burns through her second book and Frankie just burns with the heat of regret.

He’s the one dragging this out.

That night after dinner, they walk back to their hut in silence, both just this side of drunk on rum. A bartender mistook Frankie’s trepidatious buzzing and Audrey’s carefree chat as him being nervous to propose and kept free drinks flowing. They’ve put down more together before but Frankie is a tequila man and although rum is Audrey’s ancestral drink, she hardly touches dark liquor anymore.

Frankie stuffs his fists into the pockets of his linen pants as they navigate shell-laced concrete and figures drunk isn’t the state of mind to do this but drunk also won't let him wait any longer.

“Audrey.”

She looks to him without saying his name, but her pace doesn’t falter. She spins on her heel and starts walking backwards as a reggae version of One More Night starts playing from some far-off speaker mounted in a tree.

 There’s music in her step.

“Audrey, wait,” he reaches for her arm but thinks better of manhandling her again.

He replaces his fist in his pocket.

He kicks at a loose pebble.

He skates a hand through his hair.

“Audrey, I fucked up.”

Big green eyes meet his gaze.

“You did.”

“I was living in a fantasy that night and when I saw you. That night in DC.”

Her eyes soften now.

“You looked so beautiful. Perfect. So at ease in a place where I was so lost.”

“You always are. Beautiful.” 

“Everything just hit me at once. And it’s not an excuse, but I’ve thought about that night in Honduras every night since.”

“When Benny was out there with us.”

“When I called you mine. And you hesitated and I know you told me to drop it but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Frankie,” she whispers as the ocean breeze whips through her curls.

“It got in my head, Aud.”

“And I didn’t know how to handle it, didn’t know how to just talk to you and I let it fester until I lashed out, like, like a fucking child.”

“It was wrong. I—I was wrong. I ripped at you because seeing you there—on someone else’s arm—someone smarter and richer and better than me tore me up even though you didn’t do anything. You didn’t do anything.”

She steps closer to him.

“You looked like a bride.”

It makes her heart drop from her chest. 

“You felt precious and unattainable and I ripped you off of your pedestal and broke you because I finally realized that maybe everything you said is true.”

“I can’t have you so I broke you. Into the most beautiful shards I’ve ever seen.”

There are tears streaming down his face now.

“And I’ve regretted it every moment since because I’m not a sculptor and I don’t know how to put you back together. Us. I don’t know how to put us back together.”

“I was cruel.”

“And I’ve deserved to sit in it like this," he gestures broadly over his torso, "with this—this this weight crushing my chest.”

“And it’s okay if you’re done, Audrey. I’m not going to beg you to stay if you don’t want to.”

He wipes an angry hand across one cheek.

“I’d understand it if you’re done.”

And Audrey stares back at him through eyes as big as saucers before she speaks.

“Do you want to be done, Francisco?”

“No. This is me trying not to be done, Audrey.”

And she considers him more carefully than she ever has before. 

Staring through him.

And when she blinks hard to clear it she must be satisfied with what she saw because she holds out her hand. 

“Can we keep talking back in the room?” She asks him softly, because tears are still streaming down his cheeks and another couple is heading down the path.

“Yeah,” he whispers, swiping a palm down his face. But he doesn’t take her hand. 

And it twists a piece of her heart. 

She starts off again and when the gravel ends and the cement begins she can’t hear him following her anymore.

She’s doesn’t look back.

She stops to love on the petite tabby cat that roams the resort and she supposes Frankie stops somewhere behind her. 

Audrey knows that Frankie loves cats and the fact that he’s not standing right beside her makes her stomach roil. 

When they make it to their hut she heads straight for the ice bucket, scooping a clean glass through it and grabbing the unopened bottle of complimentary rum before she heads out onto the porch. 

Frankie grabs a glass and flips on the porchlight.

It washes out color and bathes her in red. 

His weight falls heavy into the chair across from her, heels of his palms scrubbing his eyes as she splits the ice and fills his glass before her own. 

“Whatever happens,” she starts and Frankie's gaze falls heavy on her, “I want you to know. There is no one else. I wasn’t—“

The back of the chair creaks as she braces her form against teak.

“I wasn’t fucking anyone else before you and I haven’t fucked anyone else in the two years since Nicaragua.” 

She meets his eyes now. 

“I want you to know that. For you.”

And he offers the barest nod.

“I haven’t been able to think about anyone else since Nicaragua,” she tosses offhandedly. 

“And frankly— I don’t really know what to do with that. But it’s the truth.”

Frankie doesn’t dare let himself hang on it, swallowing a mouthful of rum to singe the hope that curls around his heart.

“And I know I should have picked up the phone, it works two ways, right? I shouldn’t have run the way I did, and I should have said something to you but—“

A ragged breath.

“I was scared. You deserved better than that, Frankie. And I’m sorry.”

They’re quiet for a long time. Each working up the courage to take this where it needs to go.

And it’s Audrey who finds it first.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, babe,” he says weakly as he meets her gaze.

“What does ‘not being done’ look like to you?”

His glassy gaze doesn’t leave hers.

“You. Us? Some kind of future.”

“What is a future, Frankie?”

“Everything.”

“There is no white picket fence, barefoot and pregnant dream with me, Francisco. I’m not a nurturer. I can’t give you a normal life and a home and chi—”

“Where—why does this matter, Aud?”

“It’s what you deserve,” she murmurs.

“What?”

Her voice is monotone when she starts. “You deserve to return at the end of each day to a lovely warm home and a warm meal with your daughter and a beautiful wife who’s an amazing mother.” Rattling off what she believes to be fact as though it’s plain as day. “You deserve as many kids as you want because you’re an amazing dad. You deserve—a home that’s filled with laughter, Frankie. You deserve a safe home filled with love.”

“Is that what you think I want? Audrey, is that really your only blueprint for happiness? That suburban fuckin’ nightmare?”

“It’s what I thought I wanted,” she whispers in a voice so small that Frankie nearly reaches out to hold her before she shrinks into nothingness.

“Aud,” he coos.

“It’s what I thought I wanted as a girl. Something better than what I had.”

And he can tell she’s struggling against the lock that secures the box of her memories. The childhood hopes and dreams. The things she packed away to survive this long.

He can tell she’s struggling against tears.

“Tell me,” he whispers, leaning in across the small table. “You don’t have to carry it on your own anymore. I’m here. I’m going to be here. Talk to me, Aud.”

“I just wanted—a— a home.” She stutters. “With someone who loved me. Someone I could love. I didn’t— have that.”

“We moved a lot when I was a kid. Home was never anywhere for long. Didn’t really have time to make friends, stopped trying.”

“It always felt like no one ever wanted me around. And I mean, I was the perpetual new girl with the weird eyes and the frizzy hair, I can’t blame them.”

“Aud…”

“It doesn’t matter, Frankie,” she takes a rough sip of her rum. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. It hurt you.”

She’s quiet for a beat, teeth sinking into her bottom lip to keep its tremor at bay. 

And Francisco sits with her, listening to frogs sing a midnight hymn.

“I just remember feeling like everything was my fault. When we had to move. When my parents fought—and that was a lot. Like, wake up in the morning to them yelling at each other kind of a lot. Just, all of it. I took all of it on myself.” She sniffs hard and runs fingers through her curls. “I didn’t really understand what else adults could fight about at the time.” A dismissive gesture of her hand.  “They became so distant. And it wasn’t always like that but life just got in the way., you know? They were doing their best with what they knew.”

“But I got in the way, I guess. I just grew up by myself,” she rubs at her nose with the back of her hand.  “Told myself I didn’t need anyone because I never had anyone. Not for a long time. I didn’t have anyone because I wasn’t enough to keep them around.”

“That’s not true,” he whispers.

It’s a different kind of grief to know a lover’s pain.

“I made my friends up,” she offers a weak smile, “I made them up just so I wouldn’t be alone.” 

“Because I was a person everyone abandoned.”

Audrey whispers, “and I just wanted to be loved so badly.”

And where she’s doing everything in her power to keep tears from breaking, they flow freely down Frankie’s cheeks.

She was a child. Frankie thinks. A child who needed love, needed to be held and told that she was someone’s whole world. And he can’t go back in time to change that but he wants so desperately to give it to her now.

“It’s why I ran. From you, that morning,” she meets his eyes now, “I fell back into a bad habit of running. I left you before you had a chance to leave me.”

And Frankie realizes the true weight of what he said all those weeks ago.

What he hissed into the face of a scared little girl.

He’d fuck you but he wouldn’t keep you. Yeah—I wouldn’t either.

She left because he said he would.

He has the briefest flash of his daughter’s face.

And it cracks him wide open.

“I wasn’t kind to you, Aud.”

He wants to reach out for her hand, but he isn’t sure if he can. If he’s allowed. “I wasn’t the safe place I should have been. But I want to be. I want to show you that everything you’ve felt isn’t true. I want to try.”

“I want to build a home that’s warm and safe. And I’m not talkin’ about having babies. I’m talking about us. A place that’s ours. Filled with laughter. Filled with love.”

“And I only want to do that—with you.”

“It’s not safe with me, Frankie. I don’t leave loose ends but I can’t—anywhere I am, anyone I’m with isn’t safe.”

“And you think I am? On my own, you think I am?”

He braces his elbows on his knees and leans in over the table.

“I made that choice a long time ago. Before you, Aud. I can’t unring that bell either.”

“Frankie,” she looks to him, eyes swimming with a gentle shake of her head, “I ca—I don’t. Know how.”

“Let’s figure it out together?"

“What do you want, Frankie?

“I want you.”

“You don’t know me, Frankie.”

Still she fights to push him away.

“You don’t know where my parents are from or the places that I lived. How many siblings I have. You don’t know what my favorite band is or or or my favorite fucking color. And I don’t know those things about you.”

He leans back in his chair, lips pressed into a hard line. “I know that you’re grasping at straws right now because these aren’t real questions, Audrey…”

“No, no of course they’re not. But that’s my point. We’ve known each other for two years in some fucked up, protracted honeymoon phase. Every few weeks we fly to a new country and fuck and maybe kill a few people in the process before we go our separate ways. I’ve never even slept in your bed, Francisco.”

“And I’ve barely slept in yours.”

He stares at her through wide eyes. Soft yet full of conviction.

“But I’ve cried in it.”

“I’ve seen you in crisis. I’ve seen the way you look when you’re lining up a shot. The pure determination on your face that one time you dragged Santi out of live fire because you had to get him somewhere safe. You were unshakable.”

He tips his head in an effort to catch her gaze where it’s locked on the floorboards.

“I’ve seen you look at me when you thought I was dying, Aud.”

“I’ve seen you.”

“You love in the sharpest corners of life. You love your people, Audrey. You care for their souls. You move the earth to keep them safe. To protect them. Because you care.”

“And there are people who care about you. People that love you. I love you.”

“You don’t even know my real name, Frankie.” She whispers low with glassy eyes, still trying to shake him from this delusion. 

And what should have dropped as a bombshell barely causes a ripple.

“You’ve always said that you couldn’t give me anything more than what we’ve had, but I think it’s because you don’t allow yourself to try, Audrey. I don’t want a nine to five with you. I don’t want coming home to dinner and a martini, or or or soccer game pickups and ballet practice drop-offs in a minivan. I just want you.”

“I have laughter with you. I have love with you in my life. Anywhere you are feels like home to me, and I know I haven’t lived up to being the same for you yet…”

And he thinks he hears “you are” fall from her lips as he finishes, “but I want to. I want to—with you.”

“I want to know you’ll be there in the morning and I want to get to hold you at night. I want to see you smile in city lights and I want to hold your hand in the rain. I want to go on dates and meet your friends. I want to close down bars with you. I want to do this properly. For real. I want to love you. And I want you to let yourself be loved.”

“Because I love you, Audrey.”

“I LOVE you.”

Frankie’s eyes are wide with sincerity when she looks up.

And a sudden rake of anger chafes over him.

“Don’t react.”

Firmly but kindly.

With salt on his cheeks.

“Don’t mask your shit with the lies you tell yourself. You’re not that kid anymore, Aud. You don’t have to make it up. I’m here. And I love you. And I’m not fucking going anywhere. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“And I don’t think you do.”

“And don’t tell me that you’re a horrible person who doesn’t deserve love because of what you’ve done, either. I’ve done it too. And I know you don’t think I’m a monster even after what I’ve done to you, so that dog don’t hunt.”

“So don’t spit out a lie right here to my face.”

“Please.” 

And Frankie knows this is it. 

She can forsake it now and it would be over. Over because she doesn’t want any of it. 

Whether out of fear. 

Denial. 

Overwhelm.

She could run again. Right in this moment. Leave knowing he loved her.

Leave because she can’t take it.

And that’s something Frankie can’t fix.

But he has one last plea.

“Whatever happens. Please don’t lie to me about that, Audrey.”

At least give me this to hold on to.

Something to remember you by.

The ghost in the trees. 

“I don’t stick around after making a shot.”

Maybe just this once.

And for all Francisco Morales has seen of the woman he knows as Audrey Goddard.

He’s never seen her cry.

But the red porch light catches the wet streak making its way down her cheekbone to drip off of her chin when she turns her head to meet his eyes.

“I love you, Audrey,” he repeats, as firmly as he dares.

“And I think you’re crying because yo—”

“I love you too.”

And Frankie’s heart stops in his chest.

Trevor was right. 

“I love you, Frankie. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

And the tears flow freely now. From both sets of eyes.

“And I’m sorry that I’m the one that loves you. Because I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what normal is, what that looks like. I don’t know how much longer I can do this job, but I don’t know how to leave. I don’t know where I go. I don’t know what it looks like. In the after.”

“It looks like whatever we want, Audrey.”

“I don’t know how to live, Frankie. I only know how to not die.”

“And I’m sorry that that’s all I have to give to you. But I want to. If you’ll take it. I want to.”

“Can we figure it out together?" He asks, "Would that be okay?”

“Because I want all of it. All of you. Everything that hurts. Everything you’re scared of. I want to do everything in my power never to hurt you again.”

Don’t run away from me again.

He finally takes her hand that’s resting on the table between two massive, gentle fists because he can’t hold back anymore.

“And can we stop all of this, pretending like we’re strangers? Please can I kiss you and touch you and hold you again?” He pleads with a squeeze of his fingers. “I’m dying without you.”

“I didn’t know if you still wanted to.”

“Audrey, of course I want to.”

And he catches her where she leaps to her feet, chair clattering against the deck.

The force of her knocks the wind from his lungs as he folds her into his arms.

Pressing her against his heart. 

And Frankie breathes again for what feels like the first time in weeks.

And he feels Audrey breathe too.

Stuttering and damp against his collarbone.

And she pulls away, causing momentary panic before he feels her take his face in her hands.

One chaste kiss followed by one fervent one before she slips her tongue into his mouth.

Like she hasn’t tasted him in years.

“Frankie,” she sobs when she breaks the kiss, burying her nose against the thick column of his neck with her arms around his waist as the massive palm cupped at the base of her skull holds her tight there. “I love you."

“I love you, baby,” Frankie repeats as his eyes slip closed with the relief of reunion.

Of holding her right back here where she fits.

Of knowing he isn’t going to let her go again. 

Audrey presses her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump against her skin. 

And after a while she sniffles, “you taste like bug spray.”

And Frankie roars with laughter.

With relief.

“Come.”

He takes her hand and leads her through to the wet room-style bathroom. He starts up one of the shower heads, testing the temperature of the spray before shaking the drops from his hand.

“You can go first.”

She has one leg crossed in front of the other, one hand on the teak countertop. “Stay?” She whispers.

And a smile tugs at the corner of Frankie’s mouth as he kicks off his shoes and helps her from her sandals, shutting them on the outside of the bathroom door.

He cups her jaw gently, pressing his lips to hers once again as her fingers move under his collar, around to the buttons of his polo shirt as he does the same for her. Frankie’s eyes glitter in the low light as she slips fabric from her shoulders. They help each other undress, her hands at the hem of his shirt, his fingers carefully unfastening the zip at the back of her linen skirt.

Layer by layer they bare themselves to one another until Frankie takes her hand and leads her under the spray. 

“Let me?” He asks with soft eyes.

He starts with her hair, lathering shampoo at her scalp with strong but deft fingers, hand at her hairline to shield her eyes on the rinse, before slicking conditioner through midway to the ends.

Audrey smiles at his intentional attention to detail. 

His daughter has curly hair too. 

The humidity of the shower chokes out the humidity of the night as he quickly tends to his own hair because he won’t let her. 

He snatches shower gel from a corner shelf and a rolled washcloth from the sink, working up a lather before turning her to face him. 

He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing her slowly at first and then more deeply with an impatient tongue. Audrey’s hands soothe over a stomach that’s more toned since last she held him, a consequence of losing himself for hours with Benny and Will at the gym.

“May I?” Frankie whispers against her lips and she nods, giving him permission to take the washcloth over her skin. 

And what began as a need to show care now turns to worship. Down her neck, over her arms and back, around her hips and thighs, down to her toes. She lets him, watching as he does the same for himself before flipping on the handheld shower head to rinse soap away.

It’s in this moment that he realizes he’s never actually seen the scars.

Because he’s never seen her until tonight.

He’s only ever seen her as perfect.

He’s never seen her pain.

He’s never actually seen her as fallible. As mortal.

He does now.

Frankie sees her skin anew. 

And it makes her all the more precious.

Frankie slots the handheld showerhead back into its spot, pressing his chest to her back, taking the brunt of the main spray as he sweeps wet hair to curl around her shoulder. Lips fall against the symbol at the back of her neck. Over the lines of moose antlers. 

The scars of her own making. 

He kneads the feathery stretch marks at the flare of her hips and the meat of her thighs, humming contentedly.

Where she grew into herself.

He runs two fingers reverently over a thread of lighter brown skin on her right shoulder before pressing a kiss there.

“Dislocated shoulder. Torn rotator cuff. Gordon patched me up.” She offers.

Bits of things she’s said in the past begin to echo in his mind. 

Frankie wants to ask what happened because he wants to know all of her stories. 

And Frankie figures that he shouldn’t hold back anymore. So he does.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to—“ he immediately apologizes.

She cranes her neck, asking for his mouth and he obliges, allowing her to press a kiss soft to his lips. “I want to.”

“Warehouse raid,” she runs her hands over his forearms where they’re locked around her waist. “Was up on a catwalk, a newbie tripped an alarm, concussion grenade went off and I fell, dislocated it. Slammed it back into the joint before I passed out. FBI managed the extraction, actually.”

Frankie hums his understanding, hands moving around her waist and down her spine.

“Here?” He asks of the faint echo of a slash just over the wings of her hip bones.

“Caught the blade of a knife, can’t remember when. Just lucky it wasn’t the pointy end. I’d be out a kidney.”

She turns to face him and meets his gaze, sweeps wet hair from his forehead and thumbs his cheek.

Warm dark eyes map her face, thumb settling on a scar at her temple, half hidden by her hairline as his other hand smooths over the panes of her back. 

“This?” He murmurs, stomach churning preemptively.

“Assassination attempt.”

“You didn’t make your shot?”

“On me.”

And Frankie’s fingers stop their ministrations as his blood runs cold.

“Range Rover with a reinforced chassis smashed my car between itself and a tree at fifty miles an hour. On purpose. Shot the driver before he could finish the job.”

“This,” she holds her wet hair back off of the scar, “was some kind of mangled metal. My car or his, I’ve got no idea.”

She settles her hands at the small of his back, “but I uh,” she starts, eyes darting over his shoulder and back, “I wasn’t okay for a long while after that.”

Frankie pulls her tight to him, one palm holding the base of her skull, pressing her face to his neck. 

“Brain was pretty scrambled,” she whispers against his collarbone. 

Frankie lays a kiss to her hair, letting up the pressure on her head to press his lips against her neck.

Down her sternum.

Tongue laving over her skin as he sinks to his knees.

Water from the spray follows his path and he spits out what makes it into his mouth.

He only has a taste for her. 

Her waist fits in the span of his hands as his lips find a round scar with rough margins just under her left breast.

He already knows what would have caused this.

“Bogotá.” She whispers.

And he presses his forehead to her stomach, drawing a rough breath through his nose.

“Audrey—” he whimpers on a ragged breath.

“I’m here,” she murmurs, carding a hand through his wet hair. 

Thumbing one cheekbone. 

Frankie asks now with touch.

His thumb fits against a lighter patch of skin just below her kneecap.

“Tripped on a sidewalk.”

He smiles and presses a kiss there.

His palm splays up over her thigh and the faint, stuttering smatter of marks there as she shower pelts his shoulders.

“Road rash. Controlled motorbike crash.”

His tongue traces them. Locking their taste away.

Thumbs skim over two small, identical scars just below each hipbone. 

“Had my tubes removed.”

And Frankie has seen too many movies, because he stares up at her with a savagely protective look in his eyes.

She soothes a hand over his wet curls and reads him dead on when she answers, “my choice, Francisco.”

“Good,” he says firmly, pressing his lips to each before he takes the flat of his teeth and his tongue over one hipbone.

He presses her against the wall with his palms, the bridge of his nose catching against her slit before he presses a kiss to her mound.

“Fell in love with you,” Audrey breathes on a sigh as her head falls back.

Frankie hums low and it thrums straight through her.

He moves slowly despite his impatience. 

A kiss at the swell of flesh just above her clit. His tongue against the crease of her thigh. 

His nose against where she’s wet for him, catching her slick on his bottom lip. 

Humming as his tongue darts out for a taste. 

“Frankie,” Audrey lets go on a cracked sigh, both hands tangled in his curls. 

“Baby,” he answers, palms settling on her hip bones as he holds her against the wall and guides one leg over his shoulder.

Finally his tongue slips through her folds and she gasps and moans. Giving him the breath from her lungs as his tongue dips inside of her and he lets slip a growl.

She tastes of salvation.

Of every dream he’s had for the past three months. 

The past two years.

She tastes of the rest of his life. 

And he drinks until his thirst is quenched by trembling muscles and full throated moans.

He doesn’t even attempt to touch his cock, desperate and obscene in its insistence between his thighs. 

He gives her his fingers instead and her muscles clamp tight around them as her hands clutch at the roots of his hair and he brings her through with heaving lungs as she urges him back to her. 

The tang of relief on her lips as he plunges his tongue into her mouth. 

Frankie shuts the water off and lifts her up with legs quickly wrapped around his waist.

Mouth never leaving his. 

He holds her firm, one hand to protect the crown of her head as he walks through to the bedroom.

“The net, Frankie,” she warns.

“Get it, babe,” he murmurs, waiting for her to find the gap in mosquito netting as he occupies her mouth with his tongue.

When finally she parts gauze he lays her backwards onto the mattress, grinding his hard length against her weeping core.

He cranes to trail his tongue over her abs. Sucking on her hipbone. Thumb brushing over her clit. 

“Frankie,” she lets go on a ragged gasp, “wait, baby, wait.”

Immediately his heat leaves her, and mercifully she acts before panic can rise in his chest.

She sits up, hand coming to his jaw as the other snakes around his waist, sucking at the plush of his bottom lip. Frankie’s hands trail over her back as she lets out soft moans with each kiss.

They make his cock throb where its pressed to her stomach.

Audrey’s fingers wrapping around the thick base of him and he lets out a strangled groan. She gives him a few tentative strokes before he stops her in a hurry.

“Baby, don’t—I’m not—,” he traps her face between his palms, the tip of his nose brushing against hers. “I want—”

And she doesn’t need him to finish his half-panted thoughts, pressing a kiss to his lips and placing her hands over his own.

Frankie lets her go and she shifts further onto the bed. An invitation to join. He tracks her mouth, head spinning from having what he’s been so long without right within his grasp. He crawls over her form before he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder, urging him onto his back.

Frankie complies, leaned against pillows as he reaches for her.

His fingers have been too long without her skin. Every second away from it carries the burn of eternity.

Audrey gently straddles his hips, palms braced on broad shoulders as his hands settle in the curves of her waist. 

There’s a gentle smile on Frankie’s flushed lips as he stares up at her though round, soft eyes.

“Is this okay?” She whispers, cradling his jaw.

“Yeah,” he sighs, lids fluttering closed as she presses her lips to his, tongue dipping inside his mouth. Frankie’s fingers skitter over her spine as she thumbs his cheek, head dropping back against the pillows. She traces the lines at the corners of his eyes. The smattering of freckles across his cheekbones called forth by the sun. One thumb fits gently against the divot in his bottom lip, pronounced as though hewn by the hand of something divine. She sees the grey at his temples that has caught in the scruff at his cheeks.

She sees him the moment that he opens his eyes. 

Rich brown shot through with flecks of love. 

She sees this man.

With a soul like water. 

That bends and rushes. Freezes and thaws. That carves mountains jagged and soothes stone smooth. 

That boils when left untended.

That envelops every inch of her. 

And she kisses him with the beginnings of different tears in her eyes. 

For this is water that’s found its own again. 

“I love you Frankie,” she whispers into his mouth.  She reaches back, giving his hard length a few strokes as Frankie’s breath hitches. His hips buck into her hand and she guides him inside of her.

Audrey gasps in the sigh that he exhales as her body adjusts to the stretch of him. 

His forehead thumps against hers and she smiles.

“Hermosa,” he gives a tentative roll of his hips and she hums, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. 

“Cariño,” whispered against the column of her neck as she meets his thrusts.

“Mi amor,” he nips at her chin as she grips the wet curls at his nape.

Frankie cranes to pepper her throat with kisses as they find a rhythm like language. 

The give of his hips and the eager pull of her cunt. His nose smashed against her cheek. Her tongue desperate for the salt of his skin.

And it is the greatest relief to be buried inside of her. To feel the flutter of her walls and the damp slip of her body against his.

But Frankie’s fingertips dig into the meat of her ass in an effort to gain some measure of composure. He wants to be delicate. To hold her with care. 

To show her how much he needs her. Tenderly.

But Frankie’s brain starts to melt.

He wants this to last. For her. Desperately. Wants to make her fall apart one more time before he does.

Wants to feel her pleasure before his own.

But her hips render him useless. Drunk on the way she grips him. 

He skates one hand up her sternum between her breasts before palming one and sucking on her flesh. The scratch of his beard sends a chill up her spine, drawing a moan from her throat. She shifts to brace her hands on his shoulders, slowing her pace. 

One hand traces her vertebrae up to grip her hair and bring her mouth back to his. Frankie breathes hot and damp against her cheek, nipping at her jaw.

“Quiero cogerte,” he ghosts over her skin.

“Cógeme, Francisco,” she breathes and her answer in the same tongue doesn’t help his cause.

He moves at a speed she can’t register, twisting around and landing her on her back before he braces a hand on either side of her head.

He thrusts deep and sinks his teeth into her shoulder, holding there as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

Frankie catches the backs of her knees over the insides of his elbows, tongue slipping into her mouth as he sets a languid pace that has her arching with impatience beneath him.

“Te he extrañado,” he tucks against the shell of her ear before he sits up. Frankie trails his fingertips down her ribs and fits them to the curve of her waist, murmuring as he thrusts. “Tu piel y tu boca…”

“¿Solamente esas cosas?” She teases with closed eyes, tipping her face into the pillow to smother a moan.

“Hey,” he says, slowing for a moment to press his chest to hers, “all of you, baby,” offering a sincere kiss before his pace picks up again. 

And as good as it feels to be filled like this.

Affirmed like this.

Something’s not quite right.

Their rhythm is off. 

And Frankie, usually so exacting in how he pulls her apart, thread by thread, is uncoordinated. Lost in his own head. 

“Francisco—” she calls out, twisting in his hold. “Wait. Wait wait wait, baby,” and he stops, panting as he runs a hand down his face.

There’s something incongruous here. 

Perhaps it’s the weight they’ve unconsciously assigned to the reunion of flesh.

Maybe it's the frogs and the air and the rum.

Maybe it’s that Frankie hasn’t been able to come in three months. 

And apart from their dalliance in the shower—

Neither has Audrey. 

But she can tell that he’s strung out on desire. Ripped in too many directions. 

She wants him to stop thinking.

She wants him back.

Frankie soothes a hand over her stomach and swallows hard, “what’s wrong, baby,” he pants, eyes suddenly round with concern, “what’s wrong?”

And he slips his dick from her heat and sits back on his haunches, swiping a hand down his face. 

He catches how her gaze flicks down to his cock, glossed with her slick. Thick and straining against the confines of his skin. 

“Frankie,” Audrey murmurs, voice dripping with mischief. 

She makes an exaggerated show of stretching.

Rolls over onto her stomach, parts her legs, and tips her hips forward.

And Frankie’s eyes lock on her pussy, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

She tosses him a glance over her shoulder. 

“I need you to stop being so sweet.”

And he groans, low and fractured, and falls forward.

Mouth latching to her cunt before he hollows his cheeks.

And Audrey lets out a small yelp, letting her head drop onto her forearms.

Frankie grips the globes of her ass in each palm, the flat of his tongue running the length of her slit before it dips inside of her. 

She bucks away with sensitivity, but Frankie yanks her back against his face.

“Frankie—” she begins to whine but he lands his palm against one cheek to stop her squirming.

“Don’t give a man a meal and expect him not to eat,”  he murmurs, muffled by her flesh and the shameless need in searing through him.

He’s back.

“Fuuuck, ” she buries her face in the sheets and he fucks her with his tongue until he hears her breath go shallow.

Frankie tears his mouth from her, skimming his tongue over his wet bottom lip, reaching down to pump his cock as he fits himself between her legs. 

The slide of his foreskin made easy where he’s leaking precome.

He skates one hand down her spine, telegraphing what he’s about to do.

“¿Quieres mi verga, gatita?” he growls.

And Audrey lights him up. 

Spitting profanity that chastises him for making her wait so long.

Frankie thrusts inside of her without pretense, blanketing her with the breadth of his form, tucking his nose just behind her ear. 

“Nice girls don’t talk like that, gatita.”

She can feel his smile on her skin.

“If you wanted a nice girl,” she arches against his weight as best she can, tipping her mouth to meet his, “you shouldn’t have called.”

Frankie hums, sinking his teeth into the nape of her neck before kissing an apology against her skin as his hips rock against hers.

His lips laze over the curve of her shoulder. Up the side of her neck before teeth sink into her pulse, all the while hips picking up in speed. 

He sits up, fingers flared over her back, heels of his palms pressing her hips into the mattress as her fingers claw at whatever fabric she can reach. 

Frankie trails his tongue over her spine as he grunts with exertion before his hands palm her hips and pull, angling them to allow the head of his cock to slide against her g-spot. He spends a moment here, allowing pressure to build before he slams his hips hard against hers, pulling a cry from her throat. 

He hums as he grinds deep, the baritone of his voice thrumming through the hollow spaces in her chest.

“So deep, Frankie,” she whispers.

And Frankie starts to litter her skin with filth.

“—tan mojada, gatita, ohh—fuck, baby.”

“Si, asi, asi, asi, así tal cual—” he pants as she bucks back against him.

“¿Quieres más duro, bebita?” He murmurs and she gasps.

“Tell me,” he grits out.

She’s breathless when she sighs into a pillow, “yes, Frankie.”   

He grabs her by the upper arms, pulling her up off of the bed, pace punctuated by hard, deep strokes that bottom out. Frankie presses one hand low against her stomach and wraps the other over her shoulder as she scrambles to brace against the wide shelf of the headboard.

“Mira, gatita,” the hand on her stomach cups her chin, tipping it up to meet his eyes in the mirror that hangs above the headboard.

“Look at us.”

Still damp curls fall in her eyes. Jaw, nose, and chin reddened from the scrape of his beard. The whites of her top teeth flash in low light where her mouth has fallen open to fill her lungs with breath only for him to force it from between her ribs on a moan.

She thinks herself a disheveled, fucked-out mess and smiles.

But Frankie.

Frankie’s beautiful.

Eyes blown dark with adoration where they’re locked on her reflection. Sun-browned skin damp with a sheen of sweat that catches the low bedroom lights, bronzing the swell of muscle in his arms. Cheeks flush with heat and lips sucked plump.

Frankie that she pulls apart like this. Hissing through his teeth and grunting through the grip of her.

Frankie that hangs on her every word.

Frankie, buried deep, rocking against where her core molds to the shape of him. 

The sight of her Frankie is pleasure unadulterated. 

Audrey reaches back for him and he quickly obliges, tucking a kiss into the curve of her shoulder before burying his nose in her hair.

A particularly deep thrust makes her moan and her fingernails catch in the scruff of his beard before tangling in his hair and Frankie cups one breast and squeezes, making her buck back against him.

He can feel the slightest tremor in her limbs as her head falls into the crook of his shoulder as she gasps, “no te pares.”

“W– with me, baby,” he stutters as his hips snap against her flesh, the head of his cock nestled deep in her warmth, hammering against her favorite spot. 

His spot.

“Fuck, ’m so close,” he presses against the curve of her shoulder, mouth falling open, tongue trailing up the tendons of her neck as she arches against his chest.

“You own this cock, baby—” he growls in her ear. “It’s yours, it’s yours, it’s y—ours.”

She takes the hand that’s gripping her hip and brings it to her clit where Frankie immediately starts winding circles against nearly over-sensitive flesh.

“God, I’ve missed you inside of me, Francisco,” tipping her face to breathe against his flushed cheek and he moans into the curve of her shoulder. He holds her fast and ruts against her without pulling out as his fingers speed up.

He watches in the mirror as her mouth falls open and her eyes fall shut, strands of wet hair clinging to her neck.

“Come for me, baby,” he purs against the shell of her ear even as his voice starts to crack with desperation. “Please, baby, please—”

Audrey can’t answer him through the sobs of pleasure.

“Baby—” he hisses as he feels his balls tighten, pace growing frantic now. “Ohfuuck—”  

His fingers dig bruises into her flesh. “Come with me. Te ruego, hermosa.”

He pleads.

“Frankie,” she murmurs against his skin before she reaches back to curl fingers in his hair. “Frankie,” she repeats, tightening her grip as his lips find her jaw.

“Acábame adentro, Francisco.”

And Frankie sees white. 

His hips slam against hers and hold there, growling and hissing with every pulse of his cock as as he floods her with his come. She answers with a sobbing keen as she clenches around him, jostled by every twitch of his hips and his heaving chest at her back.

Audrey finally lets out a stuttering breath and Frankie answers with something between a moan and a wail and smashes his nose against her cheek.

And this is something entirely new. 

Frankie knows full well how to move to wring pleasure from her blood. Audrey knows how to hold him until she hears him. 

But this is nothing that they know.

This makes her legs go numb.

Makes his ears ring.

Makes both hearts beat in rhythm.

Causes lips to crash together and stay there. Breathing each other in as his forehead falls against the back of her shoulder.

This is love.

He holds her tight to him until panting evens out into gentle moans before slipping his softening cock from her heat.

Warm palms curve to her waist and her breastbone as Frankie guides her down with him.

He wraps her in his arms, peppering her jaw and neck with kisses.

When she moves to shift off of the bed, Frankie’s arms lock around her waist.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.”

And she lets out a throaty laugh and reaches a hand back to soothe over his hair. “Frankie, I just have to run to the bathroom.”

“You always run away from me,” breath coming in deep huffs, kissing at her jaw, “when I’ve just been inside you.”

“Maybe you always hit the right spot, Francisco,” she twists to kiss his chin.

He grins and glances off the side of the bed.

“Alright, let me—” he helps her over with a groan, turning onto his stomach as she shifts to the edge of the bed, ready to help her down.

“Frankie, I can—”

“Yeah, no. Between this height and that netting you’re gonna—”

She braces a palm against his chest as she moves to climb from the bed.

And her leg gives out the minute it hits the floor.

But Frankie is quick with an arm around her middle and a laugh he tries to stifle.

“You always do that too,” he whispers as he parts the mosquito netting for her. 

“Maybe you make my knees weak, Francisco,” she snarks and bends to kiss his nose.

He lightly smacks her on the butt with the back of his hand. 

“Hurry up, Bambi.”

She returns to him in two minutes, shutting the lights off and crawling under where he holds the comforter up for her.

Arms wrapping her in a tight embrace as he folds her into the warmth of his form.

He can’t keep his hands from her skin. One pulls her thigh to drape over his hips and the other skips over the damp skin of her back.

She settles her nose against his neck.

And for a long while they just breathe. 

Frankie lulled by the weight of her body and not of his grief.

Audrey soothed by the gentle rise and fall of his chest and his fingers over her spine.

She draws idle patterns over his chest as they listen to the singing of frogs in the night.

Before Frankie breaks the silence. 

“The Caribbean.”

“Hmm?”

She shifts to prop herself up on one elbow, but Frankie’s hand over her skin doesn’t stray from its path.

“Where your parents are from. An English-speaking country in the Caribbean. You don’t have much French and you tend towards Central and South American Spanish. I never lose you in a crowd, but I did all the time when we were in Trinidad, and you understand local accents on different islands far better than either Santi or I do, even though everyone is speaking English.” 

And it sends a prickle of fear up her spine. 

To be known like this.

Even though it’s all she’s ever wanted. 

“You grew up in the States though,” Frankie continues, “somewhere in the Southeast. It’s in the way you say ‘county’ and ‘nine, and ‘right quick.’” Frankie’s hand that rests on her thigh moves to cushion his head.

“You have one brother who’s married with two kids, and I’d love to meet him because I know you two are close.”

Audrey stares at the wall, biting the inside of her cheek.

He’s paid attention. For the last two years. Cobbled together half-fragments of information in the pursuit of pieces of her.

“Your favorite color is blue and your favorite band is Nine Inch Nails.”

“That’s only because I wore that—“

“You play them too loudly in your headphones sometimes,” Frankie interrupts, wrapping his hand around the nape of her neck, bringing her mouth back to his before he whispers, “and I’m absolutely going to fuck you to that song.”

She whispers against his mouth, “baby, I will make you a whole playlist.”

“Deal.” He releases his grip and she soothes one hand over the flare of his ribs and down across his stomach.

“And I know that you legally changed your name six years ago.”

Her fingers stop their path. 

That’s not something he could have deduced from a ratty t-shirt or the color of a water bottle.

Someone had to have told him.

“You’ve been going by Audrey for longer than you went by the name you were born with. And maybe some part of you wanted to leave that behind. I don’t blame you for that.”

She looks down at him now, where he lies with a hand tucked behind his head, soft eyes canted in her direction.

“I found Spencer.” Frankie answers the question she hasn’t asked. “Well, Santi did. In Oklahoma.”

Audrey’s eyebrows briefly tick up towards her hairline before she chews on the inside of her lip.

“Gave me a pretty good dressing down. Which I fully deserved.”

“But I needed to ask him,” Frankie shifts to his side now. “I needed to know if—” he eyes flit over her shoulder and back to green.

“If I needed to let you go.”

He swallows hard.

“If it would have been cruel to ask you back,” Frankie trails his knuckles over her collarbone. “If you were really done, after…after everything I did.”

And Audrey meets his eyes with tears in her own. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever want to hear from me again. If I was—fucking delusional to think that there was anything I could do to make it right. And once I started working through my shit, I didn’t know. I didn’t know—” 

He swallows hard against the breaking of his own voice. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Aud.”

“But he said if I asked you here, you’d come. And one way or another, I’d get an answer.”

“Because he knows I love this place,” she whispers, shifting to lay on her back. “Because this place put me back together.”

Audrey fits her palm to his cheek, slanting her eyes up at him.

“I lived here for a month after—” she lets her hand fall from his skin but he catches it, wrapping it in the warmth of his own.

“This is where he and I called off our engagement. And I knew it was the right thing, but I just needed time on my own. To figure out—”

“—what happens in the after," she finishes.

“What happens?” Frankie murmurs. “In the after?”

“You.”

And Frankie settles down into the sheets and curls into her, palm running over her stomach and down her hip.

“That’s why he sent you here.”

“He understands you, Aud.” His hand soothes over her ribs now. “The way that I want to.”

It travels up to brush softly at her jaw.

“He’s known me since I was nineteen, he knows all of my shit,” she swipes a fingertip under one eye. “But I guess that means he also knows when I’m in love.”

“He wasn’t going to let either of us throw it away.” Frankie kisses at her shoulder before nuzzling at her skin. “He wants you to be happy, Aud.”

And she buries her nose in the fluffy tufts of Frankie’s curls as he kisses softly at her neck.

“He said if I can’t recognize how precious it is to have your love then I don’t deserve it,” he whispers in her ear.

And she hums. 

“He’s right,” Frankie meets her eyes again. 

She kisses his forehead.

“He also made it clear that if I fumble you again—“

“He’s gonna rip your eyes out,” she finishes.

“I believe him,” Frankie turns serious for a moment. 

“You should. He isn’t kidding,” she smiles and Frankie rolls onto his back, pulling her tighter against his chest. 

“And he said to tell you that Hannibal is still alive?”

And Audrey laughs and tucks her face into the curve of Frankie’s neck.

“A dog that I rescued off the streets of Havana. Went to a friend of his. God, that little thing must be fourteen by now.”

“‘I’m not a nurturer’ my ass,” Frankie teases and tips his lips to kiss her forehead as her eyes start to fall heavy.

They give in to the lull of sleep like this—tangled in each other.

They stroll down to the beach early the next morning.

Hands clasped.

Trevor is already parked at the beach bar and Frankie throws him a salute that he returns with a grin.

They push two chairs together, each trying not to lay right on the gap.

They kiss. Audrey with salt-spun curls. Frankie with red-tinged cheeks.

Audrey squints against the sun and Frankie slips his hat on her head, gently pulling her ponytail through the back of the cap, closing out the action with a kiss on her shoulder.

They share stories about their pasts.

About his daughter. 

He thanks her for sending a gift.

They hold each other in the ocean. Frankie’s chest at Audrey’s back, folded around her as they watch a crab forage on the footing of a dock.

They wave from the water and thank Trevor for refreshing their drinks, moving closer to the beach to chat about the bonfire tonight. 

“Trevor?” Audrey starts. “Could you take a picture for us?”

“Of course, sweetheart, of course.”

“You can use that one, right there,” Frankie tips his chin towards his phone where it rests on top of his towel.

“Alright now, smile,” Trevor says, holding the phone up.

Frankie puts his arm around Audrey’s shoulders and she slips hers around his back.

“Oh come on now, you love each other?” Trevor teases.

And Audrey looks up at Frankie, wrapping both arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he holds her against his chest. 

“There you go,” Trevor says. 

Audrey presses a kiss to Frankie’s cheek right as he snaps the picture. 

A big grin plastered to Frankie’s face. 

Three more days of bliss pass like this.

Filled with the press of humid, sleep-warm skin. The slick of sweat and the smell of sunscreen. The rich vanilla of rum on each others’ tongues. 

One afternoon the man Frankie caught leering at Audrey on their first day spots her at the beach bar and sidles up far too close. She’s as polite as she needs to be. She can handle herself.

But Frankie will have none of it. 

He springs from his lounger and jogs over to her, rumbling “baby” so as not to set her nerves firing. 

And Frankie does the the only thing that Frankie can think to do.

He presses his chest to her back and lays a kiss at the nape of her neck. 

And like a reflex, Audrey melts against him.

Brain shorted by the breadth of him.

By the safety of him.

“Hi,” she tips her head back with a grin.

“Hi, baby.”

“You two just meet or something?” The man quips. “A little vacation fling?”

“It’s our tenth wedding anniversary actually,” Audrey spins a yarn that Frankie tracks in an instant. 

He holds up his bare left hand, “saltwater does a number on the rings, so…”

“Oh yeah? Congrats, then. Not feelin’ the itch as they say?”

“Not even a little bit,” Audrey cranes her head back and nips at Frankie’s chin as the arm around her middle tightens. 

Frankie hums and slips her his tongue.

“Well, congrats again,” he holds up his drink in salute and heads off behind the bar. 

The moment he’s out of earshot Audrey turns around, attempting to smother a snorted laugh with his chest and Frankie grins into her hair. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Mmm, maybe we should come back here on our tenth anniversary,” Frankie muses. 

“Let’s make it to next year, yeah?”

“Deal.”

They again make use of the double shower in their room.

Frankie orders oxtail stew and Audrey falls all over again.

Frankie climbs a tree to pick her a mango, despite every one of her protests about his back. She peels it with a pocket knife that Frankie doesn’t ask how she took on a plane. They split it and pass the seed back and forth between them until it’s nearly bone-white. 

They share cigarettes on the porch. Frankie refuses to let her light a single one.

They pet every resort cat that will let them.

A bug lands on Frankie's bare shoulder one night as he's brushing his teeth and he lets out a noise that has Audrey racing in before nearly collapsing with laughter.

They make love on the daybed as an afternoon thunderstorm rages, drowning out her cries that Frankie muffles with his palm and the moans that he smothers with her breast.

They live. 

And for this brief moment, each of them surrenders to this possibility.

That there’s a chance.

That there’s life in the after.

The two of them.

Together.

When the valet knocks on their door that final morning, shouldering their bags and running them down the stairs to a waiting van, Frankie stops Audrey at the door to the hut, stealing one last moment for themselves.

“Aud? I want to tell you something.”

And she tips her head inquisitively, arms around his neck.

"My family is from—"

"Chile," she finishes. "You grew up in Texas and have two sisters."

He nods, finishing out her questions,"my favorite color is green, and my favorite band is the Rolling Stones."

And her eyes fill with the soft light that he's come to recognize as love.

"And moose have been my favorite animal since I was a kid."

Her smile drops.

“I’m serious.”

And he looks it. 

“Frankie—”

His fingers trail nervously over the back of her shoulder.

Over the lines of moose antlers.

“Frankie,” she pulls back a fraction now with a hand on his chest.

She sounds exhausted.

“If we’re doing this—just—this doesn’t have to be a rom-com, it can just be. Please, just, don’t lie to me. Not for a cute story, not to make me feel better, not to smooth things over, please let’s be hon—“

Frankie stops her with gentle fingers over her lips. He slips his phone from his pocket and her hands drop to his waist as they both glance down at the screen. He navigates to his texts and taps on “Mamá,” scrolling up past a few messages before tapping on a picture and turning his phone to landscape.

It’s a picture of a picture.

Baby Frankie.

Buckled into the back seat of a car, thumb jammed into his mouth, mop of straight blonde hair falling in the same big brown eyes that stare back at her now. 

Tiny arm clutching a stuffed moose to his chest.

He scrolls to another. Four-year-old Frankie on a beach, squinting against the sun. 

Fingers wrapped around the stuffed moose’s antler. 

And another.

He’s older in this one, maybe around eight or nine. Sitting on his bed, grinning with two of his front teeth missing.

And the same stuffed moose, now tired and tattered, resting on his lap. 

“Mr. Bear was a moose,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Mr. Bear,” he kisses her cheek, “the most important thing I had as a child,” he presses a kiss to her lips and tucks his phone back into his pocket, “was a moose.”

And she stares up at him. Incredulous. 

“Weird coincidence I guess,” he pulls his cap from where it was tucked into his back pocket and fits it back onto his head. 

“Frankie,” she whispers as his hands fit to her waist. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

And he grins.

“I don’t either,” he holds her tight to his form, burying his nose in her hair. “Aside from Lucia,” his arm wraps around her shoulders now, “the most important thing I have is still a Moose.”

He kisses her forehead.

Audrey looks up at him through huge green eyes.

And bursts with contagious laughter that fills his cheeks and calls forth the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Corny,” she whispers against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she kisses him. Long and slow. With all the time in the world. “But I like it.”

“Well, then,” he hums, taking her hand, lacing thick fingers with hers.

“Let’s go, Moose.”

She stares up at him with a smile. 

“Let’s go, Frankie.”

“Let’s go.”

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam

@bloviating-vy @pimosworld

And tagging some of the lovely folks who keep me going on here and have left lovely comments (some of you from the very beginning of this series when I had no idea what this would become. 💚 As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:

@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked

@jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub

@76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @jeewrites

Thank you all so very much for reading.

And as a little bonus: The Picture that Trevor Took

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 14 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Another day in town reveals a deep-seated lack of worth within Arthur that you do your best to distract him from.

Author’s Notes: I’ve decided on a relative timeline for this story—about three years before the events of the game, hence Arthur’s age mentioned in this chapter. More alcohol consumption in this chapter. Chapter fourteen of this one. More notes at the end.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Fourteen: A Good Day’s Mischief

Word count: 5057

Still ain’t told me her name. Considering her drunken state last night, I doubt she remembers any promises well enough to keep them. Still, I was hoping to get it out of her while her judgement remained so poor. Now she’s back to herself—defiant and stubborn as she ever was.

~

You and Arthur had done all you’d set out to do, freshly laundered clothes in hand, horse and mule checked on, and bellies full. You could get used to a life like this. Especially the way the two of you walked side by side, quiet for all that had passed between you the night prior. Simply happy to be together. He may not have wanted you in the same way you wanted him, but after being held by him all through the night, feeling so protected and cared for, you didn’t care. That closeness was unlike anything, something you craved deep in your bones. You prayed you weren’t too obvious about that need, especially as you walked beside him now where you would normally follow along. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he kept that mild satisfaction on his face and walked on. It was all you could do not to smile like an idiot at his happiness—at knowing you were the one who put it there.

The two of you trudged up the creaking hotel steps and inside, Arthur nodding at the hotel owner just as he had the day before. It filled you with such a sense of familiarity you could hardly stand it.

Upon reaching the room, you immediately held out your hand for Arthur to give you his shirt.

“Let me sew that up, get this thread back to the hotel worker.”

Something passed over his expression you couldn’t place, but he did as you asked. And you were soon sewing the small separation shut with the same swiftness as before, glad his shirt was also blue so that the thread matched.

You finished and looked up to find him watching your hands.

“You’re good at that,” he said.

You passed the shirt over to him, tucking the needle and thread in your pocket. “I had lots of practice.”

He smiled—a soft, genuine thing compared to his usual smirk. It made him more handsome than any haircut could.

“Let me get this back downstairs,” you told him, patting your pocket. “Be right back.” And, when you headed for the door without a word of protest from him, you turned. “What, no quip about me being careful?” His gaze was on his shirt, his thumb running over the newly threaded mend. But when he caught you staring, he tossed it aside and cleared his throat.

“I thought that was implied.” All haughtiness returned.

You just grinned and left the room, nerves rearing at that same sense of familiarity that came from spending time with him. It was a dangerous thing to be so happy about—something that wouldn’t last.

Items returned, you reentered the bedroom to find Arthur looking out the window and smoking. His coat was once again shed, those broad shoulders on display. You had to keep yourself from staring.

He turned and offered you his cigarette.

“Never again,” you said, holding up your hand in refusal.

He chuckled. “Come on. It weren’t that bad.”

“Tell that to my lungs.”

The light in his eyes as they held on yours was deceiving. Partially because their genuineness reminded you of when he had kissed you, and you were filled with a hope you knew to be false because of it.

“You…wanna go back to the saloon?” he asked, voice careful like he realized what that look did to you.

“Maybe,” you said just as soft. “What else could we do while we’re in town?”

You thought you caught a tinge of red crossing his face before he turned back to the window, looking down to the street below. “There’s plenty of mischief for an outlaw to get into around these parts.”

Surprised, you pondered what that could possibly entail. “An outlaw, huh?”

He just lifted the cigarette to his lips again, not responding.

“As eager as I may be to see a bit of this world, I believe that’s where my sense of adventure ends.”

He looked at you then, a smirk lighting his eyes. “Please, do enlighten me on what you think I’m suggesting.”

“I, uh…” Truth be told, you had no idea. You’d thought he meant mischief beyond the arms of the law. For the both of you. “I guess I don’t know.”

He was really smiling then.

“What?”

“It’s a wonder we get along,” he said on a chuckle, smoke puffing out as he did.

“Do we?”

“Good point.” He leaned back against the window frame, one hand landing on his gun belt. Something about that relaxed grace of his made you want things you didn’t know how to want. He went on. “It’s just strange. Me, an outlaw, and you, skittish as a wild horse, not even knowing what that word means.”

“I know what it means.”

“Do you?”

“Outside of the law. Getting by on…thievery at best.”

“And at worst?”

Even though a small smile remained on his face, you could tell he cared about your answer. It was a loaded gun, that question. This circling conversation the pair of you never could seem to rid yourselves of.

He held your stare, and you held it right back. “That violence you showed me when those two men tried raiding our camp. What it could have turned into.”

“And what’s that?”

He wanted you to say it. Like he wanted you to fully understand—to hate him for it.

You stared at him a long time. Then, “I’m not scared of you, Arthur.” He made to laugh that off, so you pushed. “You’ve been awfully good to me for someone who wants to think himself so evil.”

That finally made him crack. He looked to his boots and let out the last of his laugh, smoke trailing in its wake. “Evil ain’t the right word.”

“What then?” You didn’t know you wanted to know him so badly until that very moment.

He turned back to the window and stood there a long time. It was only when you thought he wouldn’t answer that you heard his voice, deep yet small.

“Undeserving.”

The word tore through you. It was said with such sadness, such honesty, that you felt your chest cave knowing he wore that burden so heavily. Thinking himself truly beyond saving.

You could have consoled him in so many ways—namely by saying a worthless person wouldn’t worry themselves over whether they deserved good things. But you found yourself unable to get it out, unable to say a word. You just watched him in front of that window, smoke billowing up like old wounds finally brought forth—veiled and, consequently, impossible to staunch. It killed you to see that in him. It had you rethinking everything, every moment spent with him. You had been taking and taking and taking, never once thinking of his needs. So you vowed, right then and there, to begin.

“Let’s go, get out of here for a while.”

“Where?” he asked without facing you.

“Anywhere.”

He finished his cigarette, the stub short and burning in the noonday light.

“On one condition,” you amended.

He turned then, face clouded with something you couldn’t decipher.

“That you enjoy yourself.” He made to answer, but you interrupted. “And don’t lie and say you’ve been doing that already because you haven’t. Not while you’ve been so busy watching my back every second.”

He didn’t deny it.

“When’s the last time you quit worrying about everyone else? Did something for yourself?”

He let out a flat laugh. “Been a while.”

“Exactly. So come on and show me a good time, and stop babying me.”

“That ain’t-”

“Save it.” You opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead of you as dramatically as you could.

He rolled his eyes and made a big show of being annoyed, but you did know that much about him—all that gruffness was only that: show. So he gave in like you knew he would and was out the door in seconds.

You let Arthur lead the way this time, vowing to go where he went, to keep out of trouble. He must have really taken your word for it, for he soon walked straight into a saloon you hadn’t noticed before that was behind the hotel. It was…far from the likes of the Red Horse. Very far. But you were glad to see that Arthur wasn’t watching you for once, catering to you. Instead, he stepped up to the small, dingy bar and ordered a drink with a certain lightness in his step. He ordered you one too, but after seeing the state of the place, you didn’t feel like drinking from the dingy glasses he was handed. You gave him yours, and he only shrugged and started drinking both, propping himself against the bar top.

You took the time to note your surroundings—the piano player who kept missing notes not because of a lack of talent but because of a lack of keys. The few seedy-looking men who were already looking at you. You were immensely glad you hadn’t changed back into your own clothes, as their eyes hardly lingered on you any longer than they did Arthur. But the pair of you were strangers here, and with the way most of them huddled together in watchful silence, you could tell they frequented the place enough to call it their own. You and Arthur couldn’t say the same. And you felt the weight of their stares as a result of that long after turning away.

Arthur didn’t seem to mind the saloon’s company. In fact, if it weren’t for your being with him, you would be willing to bet he fit in around places like this. He seemed comfortable, less watchful, less shifty. It took you all of a heartbeat to decipher why, and the reason behind it both alarmed and saddened you—he was among like-minded people here. All shabby clothes and unkempt hair, guns on most patrons’ hips. You were willing to bet Arthur wasn’t the only man in the room who frequently found himself on the opposite side of the law. But more than that, it seemed he hadn’t enjoyed the company of the Red Horse as much because he felt he would never belong with those people. The more you looked around, the more you realized how abysmal Arthur’s self-worth was. He was worth ten of every man here. You didn’t even have to know them to know it—you could see it in their beady eyes. None of them would have helped you off that cliff bottom, but Arthur had. And you let him go on enjoying himself because of it, knowing any attempt to convince him of that worth would be futile. It would just anger him, and that was the opposite of the point of coming here. You instead thought of ways to help him keep his mind off things and grinned when an idea hit you.

“So.”

He turned to you. “Aww, don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That one. Pure mischief if I ever seen it.”

“Isn’t that the point?” you asked, grin never fading. “You said it yourself. Plenty of mischief to get up to around here.”

He swigged down the rest of his drink and set it on the bar top, already waving at the bartender for another. “What did you have in mind?”

“You remember that little question game we played? With the gin?”

“Sure,” he said, not quite meeting your eye. Of course he did. It was hard to forget when the end result had been that kiss.

“I’ve got questions.”

“Here we go,” he muttered.

“I wasn’t properly…prepared last time. It was unfair from the start.”

“I let you ask me just as many questions as I asked you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but the caliber of questions was, well, tipped in your favor.”

“That so?” he asked, turning to you. The smug look on his face had you trying your best not to think of where the last game had led, because it was already getting difficult to resist wanting that again.

“They were,” you said simply.

“Well, fire away then.” He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “You already know enough to get me hanged. How much worse could you throw at me?”

You didn’t know enough to get the man hanged, for Christ’s sake, but you banished the thought before your confidence could be shaken. Instead, you started simple—with exactly the same thing he had.

“What’s something you never told anyone? Your deepest, darkest secret?”

“Deepest and darkest, huh?” he said, tilting his head back in thought and amusement.

You gave him time to think it over, knowing better than to tease him when you had the upper hand. He would just quit, and where would the fun be in that?

Whether from liquid courage or from genuinely wanting to enjoy himself, he relented.

“I don’t like the cold.”

“What? That’s not an answer,” you chided.

“It’s plenty answer,” he said with a grin, knowing it was anything but.

You were a breath away from arguing when you caught the way he was looking at you, just waiting for you to do exactly that. So you clamped your mouth shut and rerouted. “I meant something more along the lines of downright humiliating like my answer was, but…I’ll allow it.”

“You didn’t say humiliating. You said something no one else knows about me. Living with that gang of misfits every second of every day, you learn everything there is to know about each other.”

“That’s…more like it,” you admitted. Then, “Well, why the cold then? I like it.”

“Oh, and I’m not allowed to have an opinion?” he teased.

You glared. He just tilted his head back and laughed, and it was better than any answer he could have given you.

“Fine,” he said on a sigh. “It’s because it’s miserable. Heat can be bearable. It’s never painful, but the cold…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said, feigning understanding. Then, because he deserved some hassling in return, “It’s hard on the weak-willed.”

He scoffed and bumped his shoulder into yours in retaliation, and all you could do was laugh into your hand, trying to hide the feminine sound from the surrounding crowd.

“My turn,” he said. “And you got two, so I get two, and don’t even try to wiggle out of that.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“You ever daydream about kissing the postman?”

You could feel your face burn at that one, trying to answer fast enough to cover your embarrassment. “What kind of question is that? Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“I ain’t never brought it up since you did,” he countered.

Maybe not, but he always aimed these questions right where you were most guarded. Or most clueless, more like.

You groaned your frustration and were about to blurt denial before you realized that would be a lie—you’d never kissed anyone before Arthur, and you couldn’t deny that childish curiosity that had you imagining a hundred different scenarios with that stupid postman at the ripe age of fourteen. Maybe even thirteen.

Your hesitation was your biggest mistake. Arthur’s shit-eating grin had already taken hold. “Knew it.”

“There’s nothing to know,” you hissed, trying to keep from a yell. Lucky there was the sound of a piano currently filling the saloon, or this whole conversation would be on display for the patrons.

“Can’t lie,” he teased. “Those are the rules.”

“I haven’t even said-”

“Next question,” he interrupted. “Since you want to play dirty.”

“I wasn’t playing-”

“Did you imagine him your age in said daydreams, or were you kissing a forty-year-old man?”

“You’re terrible,” you said. “Absolutely awful.”

“So…that a yes?” he asked over a wicked grin.

“No.” He gave you a knowing look, and you immediately shut it down. “No. He was…like he always looked. Not forty, for Christ’s sake.”

“Thirty-nine?”

You swatted him. He laughed. “What then?”

“I don’t know,” you said, exasperated. “How old are you? He looked about like you do.”

You realized your mistake the moment the words left your mouth. Especially when Arthur’s expression turned from amusement to smugness.

“Like me, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” His grin had turned feral.

“He looked your age.”

“Sure.” He dropped it, but you knew by the look on his face the conversation was far from over. Meanwhile, it was likely your face would soon burn away with how red you knew it to be.

“I’m thirty-three,” he said, interrupting your embarrassment.

“He was around that.”

He nodded. Then, “Well, as fine a question as asking my age is, it’s my turn again.”

“Excuse me?” You said it loud enough for Arthur to shush you.

“Pipe down with all that. Lest you want these fine folks knowing you’re a lady.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Lady. That’s the second time.”

“That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

“Woman,” you corrected.

“Woman. Lady. Same thing.”

You leaned over the bar, facing away from him. He was too amused with you to let it lie. “What, you got a problem with it?”

“No. It’s…not terrible. Just don’t expect me to go calling you gentleman.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, nameless.” You whipped around at the nickname, and he winked at you before lifting his glass to his lips. Goddamn him for it. This was the Arthur you couldn’t stand being around since that kiss. The one who had led to that kiss. And all you wanted was for it to happen again.

You tore your eyes away from him and tried to think of a question that would justify why you were suddenly wracked with nerves and dead silent because of it.

“How ‘bout this,” he said, his smile so wide you knew it would be an awful question. “Have you ever…” His voice trailed when his eyes met the door. Yours followed, and you immediately knew why his focus had become so sharp—in walked the man from the night prior, the one who had lost so much money playing poker. Bowler hat, greasy manner, and all.

“And, like his father, he’ll come to regret that,” he was saying to one of the men he was with the night before. Well, slurring would be more accurate. His red-tinged face and bloodshot eyes gave him away for a drunk if his speech didn’t.

“Mr. Lawrence,” the bartender called over to him. “Nice to see you in.”

“Ah, Mr. Begley,” the man—Lawrence—responded. He leaned over to his friend, either not bothering to lower his voice or unaware of its loudness as he said, “Can’t very well say it’s a pleasure in this dump, can I?”

His friend chuckled in response, but all you could do was glare. Your distaste must have been obvious enough for Arthur to lean into you and whisper, “Eyes forward, there.”

You did as he asked, not needing to draw attention to yourself now.

You were grateful when the man and his friend settled on the opposite side of Arthur, though not even a minute passed before he was drawing Arthur’s attention.

“A new face, have we? Haven’t seen you here before.”

Arthur kept his eyes forward as he said, “Never been here before.”

“A newcomer then. Staying or passing through?”

“Just passing through.”

“You and your…ah…”

Lawrence leaned past Arthur to look at you.

“My friend,” Arthur answered, though it only resulted in a raised eyebrow from the man. It was obvious enough to anyone looking closely you were a woman. But if he realized, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes. Well, the name’s George Lawrence. Brother to the notorious James Lawrence.” The description dripped with disdain for the latter, though you had no clue who he was referring to.

“Who?” Arthur asked, and you had to rein in a smile at the way he blatantly snubbed the man, offering up no name of his own.

This really got the man’s attention, and his friend’s too. “You don’t know? Oh dear, what filthy little rock have you been living under?” When Arthur still didn’t take the bait, Lawrence kept on. “The shootist? Recently appointed town marshal?”

“Here?”

The man scoffed a laugh. “Yes, here.”

“Well, if he’s as friendly as you, maybe I’ll go pay him a visit,” Arthur jeered.

Lawrence’s eyes narrowed with disgust, his oily nose crinkling up with it. He looked Arthur up and down. “And you are?”

“Arthur Callahan.” You were surprised Arthur even offered that much, though he still wouldn’t meet the man’s eye, too busy leaning over the bar top and trying to ignore him.

“And you?”

Lawrence’s eyes had fallen on you, and you blurted the first name that came to you to keep Arthur held back as he turned toward the man in offense. “Frances Smith.”

Lawrence’s eyes narrowed as Arthur whipped around, surprise lining his gaze—he didn’t realize the name was fake. You just shook your head at him.

“Well. I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves in our humble town. Though I do suggest sticking to the back streets. That’s where the other…what do you call it? Cowmen tend to reside.”

Never in your life had you heard that word said with such disdain, and it drew Arthur’s attention like a gunshot. “Excuse me?” he grimaced, voice dangerously low.

“I don’t believe I stuttered.”

That did it. Arthur stood to his full height, towering over the smaller man, and swept into his space so quickly that Lawrence stumbled back onto his friend’s foot.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to,” Arthur threatened, “but I ain’t like these other townies, scared of some marshal brother of yours. So I’d suggest you get lost before you find yourself with a few less teeth.”

The whole saloon had stopped to stare—even the piano player. It was dead silent as Lawrence answered with a slight slur in his voice, “I would think twice about the crowd you find yourself in before you threaten a fight.”

Arthur looked around as you did, finding many glaring patrons. But they weren’t glaring at the two of you. Rather, it seemed they had caught just enough of the conversation for Lawrence to offend the whole lot of them too. Arthur must have noticed this, as he looked back to Lawrence and, without hesitation, yanked him forward and head butted him right in the nose. A crack rent the air, Lawrence went crumpling to the floor, and his friend could only shout his shock and try to help him back to his feet, both too drunk to do much of anything else.

A few of the patrons laughed, one exclaiming, “That’ll show him, the sorry bastard.”

Lawrence finally reached his feet with a bloodied nose, straightening his jacket with whatever dignity he had left. And, seeing no one would come to his aid, he just glared at Arthur and cursed under his breath as he stepped past him.

“Come on, Higgins. I think it best my dear brother hears about this.”

With that, he left. You and Arthur watched him until the doors snapped shut behind him and his friend.

“As satisfying as that was,” the bartender said, drawing your attention. “I would be careful with that one.”

Arthur pushed his glass back toward the man for him to refill it, tossing another coin down. “Slimy bastard like that deserves worse.”

“Perhaps.” The bartender waited until the room resumed its careful conversation, most men eyeing Arthur now. The rickety piano started back up when the bartender leaned in close over the bar. “He wasn’t exaggerating about his brother. They say he’s the quickest draw anyone’s laid eyes on in years. And, newly appointed town marshal to boot. You would do well to remain in his good graces.”

“If he’s anything like his sorry excuse for a sibling, I don’t care to be,” Arthur muttered.

“He’s not. He’s likable enough. You get on his bad side, and you’ll find the whole town against you.”

Arthur noted this but didn’t answer, so you did. “How on earth did a man like that wind up with a brother like George?”

The bartender really looked at you then, likely just now realizing your gender. But you appreciated his kindness as he only tipped his hat to you and explained. “They say George has lived in his brother’s shadow too long. Not as talented, not as favorable. And his nasty gambling and drinking habits make for a sour man indeed. Too much money and too little entertainment. I would steer clear of both men.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Arthur said, cutting you off before you could respond. You looked to find him glaring at you, likely because you had drawn so much attention to yourself twice now.

The bartender took the hint and his leave, letting you and Arthur be.

“We need to get going, Frances.”

You couldn’t help your smile. “Is that what you’re upset about? You did just crack a man’s nose with your skull, you know.”

He didn’t acknowledge that. “All this time, you wouldn’t tell me your name, and you dole it out to the first bastard to walk through that door and ask it?”

“Maybe he was nicer about it than you were.”

“He wasn’t.” Arthur’s scowl tickled you—like a pouting child. You pointed to his drink.

“Finish that, and let’s go.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Unless you want the big bad marshal to come knocking.”

He scoffed and threw his drink back, slamming it on the bar top. “Thanks,” he offered the bartender, tossing him another coin for his discretion and his advice before ushering you out. You could only smile at how disgruntled Arthur remained, letting him lead you on.

~

Frances. Goddamn Frances.

Arthur lead you back to the hotel, too spooked to go anywhere else despite the early afternoon hour. He hadn’t had his head on straight in that saloon—shouldn’t have taken you there in the first place. But he had to admit, you had a way of making him forget his logic. It had even been fun for a while. Until it wasn’t. Now he had the attention of one of the most powerful men in town which never lead to anything good. He was suddenly considering that putting an end to this little stay wasn’t such a bad idea. It had been nice while it lasted, even if it had only lasted two days.

After locking you both inside the hotel room, Arthur dug through his satchel for a cigarette, finding he only had one left. He would need to get to a store soon. Maybe in the next town.

“So,” you said, that playful lilt still in your voice despite what had gone down back in that saloon. “Mr. Callahan, was it?”

He shook his head as he lit a match. “Fake name.” You laughed lowly, and it drew his attention. As did the way you settled on the bed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He let you drop it, still too jittery to pick a fight with you.

“I didn’t know any better, and I’d say you’re jealous.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Am I?”

“You must be if that’s how you react to me giving my name out.”

He eyed you, taking a long drag. “I ain’t jealous.”

“No?”

“No.” Then, because he couldn’t resist, “It just don’t make much sense. You, protecting your precious name from me all this time only to-” He caught your eye and the grin underneath them. And simultaneously realized himself a fool. “That ain’t your name, is it?”

You smiled wide, and he scoffed.

You laughed loudly, the sound so pure it made his chest tighten. “No, Mr. Callahan, it’s not.”

“Well, you don’t get to know my name, then. How’s that?”

You shrugged. “Fine. Arthur’s all I need.”

“You’re something else,” he said, ears burning for the way you kept outsmarting him.

With this, you just smiled and shed your hat, lying back on the bed. He wanted to join you on it. Knew he wasn’t strong enough not to. But if he was going to keep any gentlemanly manner about him, he couldn’t do it now. He couldn’t lay beside you while that alcohol ran through his blood so thick and that laugh of yours made him want to take your mouth to his. If he did, the night would end in a way he was torn between wanting desperately and knowing he would regret the moment it happened. There would be no happy ending for you and him. Just as there hadn’t been with Mary. Just as there hadn’t been with Eliza and the boy…

He couldn’t dwell on that now. Not while he still had you—someone kind enough to brave the world for him, as you had tonight in that shit hole of a saloon. It meant more to him than he could say. You were right that he never took time for himself. Mainly because when he did, it always ended badly, and there wasn’t anyone with him now with enough knowhow to get him out of a tight like that. In fact, the thought of you just trying put a smile on his face. Smart or no, you were no outlaw. He was willing to bet your experience with the law ran nigh on none, good or bad. But his experience wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, so he went back to looking out the window and trying to empty his head with that lone cigarette, passing the time in hopes you would fall asleep and his blood would cool. After a while, both came like a caring respite, and he crawled into that bed a second time with you, repeating to himself that it was only for comfort. And only for a little while longer.

_________

End Notes: My apologies if your name happens to be Frances Smith 😂 just pretend she said some other name that isn’t yours if so!

Chapter fifteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[possibilistfanfiction]

More surgeon suffering pls! Maybe bea learning more about Ava’s injury?

[definitely sooo gentle & no present-day suffering lol but here u go]

//

‘you can ask.’

beatrice’s gentle, callused, careful fingers still along your back, their patterns you can’t quite decipher gone quiet. ‘i would never do that.’

her voice is so soft and so relaxed, it’s not at all a reprimand; you can’t say it aloud, not yet, but you love her. you roll over so that you can see the gentle planes of her face through the silvery-blue light from the moon and the night outside her big windows, the blinds not yet drawn. she looks at you openly, patiently, like there’s nothing she wants to take from you; everything she wants to give. you know — in your heart and through your friends and your family and your therapist telling you over and over again — that you have so much to offer: you’re beautiful and funny and very smart, and you love the world more than anyone you know. you also know that beatrice is sometimes less sure of herself than she seems: she clams up every time her parents call, unable to tell them to, unequivocally if it was up to you, fuck off; she loves to be lazy and sleep in and wants no one to know; she still is in the habit of downplaying accomplishments, anything from a surgery she mastered (impressive in that you know how hard it is) to a new route she climbed at the gym (you have no idea but lilith was jealous and you can imagine it’s hot); she’s a horrible cook.

‘i know,’ you say, and you do. you let a finger drift down the bridge of her nose, count her freckles, feel the chapped bow of her lips beneath your thumb. she has a scar, small, through her left brow, and you trace it. ‘what’s this from?’

she smiles, always so quick to understand, always so generous. it makes you feel like you could light up the entire world sometimes. ‘i was five; my brothers were trying to teach me how to rollerblade.’

you think about it: beatrice’s gap-toothed grin and the delightfully terrible bob haircut she had for so much of her early childhood, the photos making you laugh when, unprompted, lilith showed you a few weeks ago when you’d all had dinner at a good oyster place near bea’s house. ‘can you rollerblade now?’

‘no, it frightened me. i never learned.’

‘putting that on the short list of things that scare you. good to know.’

she holds up her right arm so you can see the small scar on her elbow, the skin darker than before. ‘at university, i was drunk and my crush dared me to climb a tree.’

you can’t help the laugh it pulls out of you. ‘oh my.’

she nods. ‘yes, quite. needless to say, amelia and i went our separate ways fairly soon after.’

‘well, her loss. i’d have paid to see you fall out of a tree.’

‘i didn’t fall,’ she says. ‘i scraped my elbow on the way up, but i did continue.’

‘of course you did.’

she shrugs. you trace the scars across her chest, ones you love. 

‘camila told me you tried to go back to classes a week after your surgery. like, the day after you got your drains out.’

bea laughs. ‘yes, and promptly fell fast asleep about three minutes in.’

‘front row?’

‘well, the second.’

‘knew it.’

‘i can keep going, if you like. i have a good story about a scraped knee during field hockey at boarding school.’

‘homoerotic, i hope.’

she rolls her eyes, but based on her silence you know you’re right.

she lets you sit in it, easily, and her house is beautiful and warm and, you’re beginning to think — to hope — it might be full of your things one day, too. it’s easier to be brave here, but your words, the worst of them, still get stuck in your throat. ‘well, what do my scars tell you?’

she weighs it. ‘you know i’m more interested in cardio.’

‘you’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.’

‘well, you favor your left hand when you’re practicing sutures, and i know your left foot gets numb often. you have trouble with temperature regulation and walking long distances, but an easier time standing for the most part; your neck aches, i think all the time.’ she pauses. ‘your handwriting is abysmal, although i suspect that has nothing to do with your injuries.’

you’re about to start crying, but she makes things lighter, even now.

‘all i care about, ava,’ she says, soft and sure, a hand tangled in your hair and then gentle on your cheek, ‘is that you get the care you need, that you tell someone — me or anyone else who can help. and you can tell me whatever you like, if ever you feel ready.’

‘i can’t — i want to.’

she kisses your forehead. ‘like i said. it’ll always be up to you. i’m here.’

you take a deep breath. ‘my mom had a garden,’ you say. ‘she died, uh —‘ you get a little caught, stuck on the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t alive anymore, when you couldn’t move, when you were stuck for so long, screaming and so, so scared — ‘she grew all kinds of vegetables.’ your voice shakes but beatrice only nods. ‘and flowers. we were going to —‘ you sniffle and beatrice just wipes your tears — ‘i think she wanted to keep bees. i don’t even know if that was possible; we had a little yard. but everything grew.’

‘that sounds wonderful.’

‘it was, even though i hated eating my vegetables.’

beatrice laughs softly, admonishing in a way that’s harmless, fond. ‘you’ve grown so much since then.’

‘hey, i’ll have you know just today i ate, like, seven bites of a salad.’

‘very impressive.’

‘can i — not right now, because i think i’ll just cry too much, but — can i tell you more about her? i wish you could’ve met her.’ i wish i could remember her more; i can’t forget.

‘i would love that. and, if she was anything like you, i’m sure she would’ve lit up an entire room. it would’ve been an honor.’

‘bea, i really don’t want to cry again,’ you whine.

‘you should know,’ she tells you, a little firm, so there’s no argument. ‘she would be so proud of you. i know it; who wouldn’t be?’

‘that’s —‘ you bury your face in her neck, just for a moment, soft and warm and safe. 

‘would you like to plant a garden?’

‘in my tiny ass apartment?’

‘no,’ she says, and you can’t see her but you can practically feel her rolling her eyes. ‘here. i have the whole back yard and, frankly, no real interest in a lawn.’

‘i —‘ you back up so you can look at her, and her eyes are clear. ‘really?’

‘of course. i’m actually quite interested in self-sustaining agriculture, and the pacific northwest has great growing conditions for so much wonderful flora and fauna.’

‘wow. okay, but — it’s your house.’

she pauses. ‘ava.’

‘i just — you’re sure?’

‘i would really enjoy it, if you’d like. also, my friend marco, from the climbing gym, runs the community garden in their neighborhood and has been pestering me to meet you.’

‘you talk about me?’

‘of course.’

‘well, if marco will do all the heavy lifting, and preferably both of you not have shirts on, i’m so in.’

‘it’s february.’

you shrug. ‘you’re tough.’

beatrice laughs, and you sink into it, delight in it. you could light up the whole world, ava, she told you after two glasses of wine and half an edible the other night, entirely serious, crammed onto the small couch in your small apartment, your life expanding far beyond, past any walls you knew. 

‘next weekend, when we’re both off,’ she says, ‘we can go to the nursery nearby and get started.’

‘you’re —‘ the love of my life sits right on the tip of your tongue, but you kiss her instead. ‘thank you.’

‘thank you for telling me about your garden, and your mother.’

all you can do is nod, and then hold her after she turns over and falls asleep.

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia: Chapter 424 Spoiler Thoughts:

MHA is finally back from break and we have a calm after the storm chapter. Let me put my thought on Tumblr for a bit:

So, let's get this out of the way: Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura is dead. Like, DEAD, dead. Unless Kohei Horikoshi pulls the rug under us, I think he's made it clear that Tenko's not coming back. Those last 2 pages were it for his conclusion. He did add one more panel of Shiggy and some dialogue from Deku to say that maybe Deku really did "save" Tenko, but that's all we got. I'm still unsure how to feel about this, but I appreciate Horikoshi giving Tenko a bit more of a conclusion after the last chapter. But, the story isn't over yet, so we'll see if he's mentioned again.

Bakugo's parts were the best parts of this chapter. I'm glad to see him alive and well after everything (I highly doubt Horikoshi would keep him dead again anyway) and that his parents are there for him (Mitsuki yelling at him was funny ngl). Sucks that his right arm will never fully recover, but maybe that rehab will help him get to a good enough place. Also, his moments with Deku and All Might were incredibly sweet and a great conclusion to their little storyline. Seeing Bakugo genuinely tear up and look back on his and Deku's relationship throughout the years honestly moved me because it shows how far this young man has come (the artwork on his face is so good btw; Horikoshi has always been great at expressions in particular). Katsuki Bakugo's character development is one of my favorites in the series and he deserves #1 in every character poll he gets.

EDIT: OH, BAKUGO'S CRYING OVER DEKU BEING QUIRKLESS AGAIN AFTER THE EMBERS BURN OUT ONE DAY I'M GOING TO FUCKING CRY WHAT THE FUCK 😭

Deku continues to be Deku till the very end. I loved Izuku nerding out about how he gets to share a hospital room with All Might because of course he would. It's also nice to hear that A.) All Might reassures Deku that even though he doesn't feel like he saved Tenko because Tenko died, he still might have in the end and B.) Deku still has the embers of One For All which doesn't make him Quirkless. I assume this means that Deku is basically back at the start when he first got OFA. I'm sure his strength is still there at least, but it's probably not nearly as powerful as it was in the final battle.

Also, Deku's haircut 😭! I know they had to do it because it got messed up in the final battle and surgery, but please let his hair grow again before the manga ends, Horikoshi! I want his cute, bushy green hair back! There's also a scar on his right cheek covering his cute freckles I can't. His eyeball popping out of his socket when he sees Kacchan cry was hilarious, though 😂

All Might also telling Deku and Bakugo that they're the greatest heroes to him and everyone else is a really nice full circle on their initial dreams when the story started.

And then there are the two panels we get of Shoto and Ochako. I assume we'll touch on their epilogues next chapter, but I'm curious how they're doing because Ochako looks solemn and we don't even see Shoto's face because his back is turned to us in a dark light. I bet they're reflecting on what happened to Toga and Dabi respectively. We're still not sure if either of them really died, so it's a coin flip as to whether they did or not. There's also Shoto's whole family situation that needs tying up which is a whole other can of worms. I really hope this gets covered in the next chapter.

Finally, we see Deku and the others returning to UA which is currently being rebuilt. I'm guessing we'll see how everyone else is doing post-war too either in the next chapter or later. While we need to cover the main 4 (Izuku, Bakugo, Shoto, and Ochako), we also need to see how everyone else is doing because they weren't the only ones affected by the war. Everyone has battle scars of some kind.

And while the chapter is called "Epilogue", it's not over yet. We clearly have more story to cover and bows to tie as neatly as possible. Horikoshi can't please everyone (no one can, really), but I can tell that he's doing his best and that he still genuinely cares about his story after nearly 10 years. I'd say we have the rest of June at least and the end of summer at most until MHA finally ends. This was a really nice "wrap-up" chapter and we have more to go until the end. Despite its flaws, My Hero Academia is still peak fiction to me and some of the parts in this chapter cement that. It will always have a special place in my heart. I will be sad to see this series go, but I will be there until the end.

EDIT: I just saw Horikoshi's comment this week and it basically confirms that we have more story to come. He doesn't say how many chapter but he says "I'll keep going for a little while" and that we're returning to school life; the "Academia" part of the story. I'm really glad he's not rushing the conclusion because there's a lot of stories and characters to give finales to. I'm also really curious to see how school life is post-war, so I'm glad that'll be explored.

[limabean42]

Could you maybe do a fear x an impulse emotion but they’re like best friends?

࿏ Fear with an impulsive! best friend ࿏

Thanks for requesting :) Reader is implied to be one of the new emotions

-

• Fear is the embodiment of well, fear

• You are the embodiment of impulse, Impulsive

• When you first appeared with the new emotions Fear let out a big sigh and just shook his head

• He knew that you would clash

• He was trying to keep Riley safe and you were preventing him from doing that with your actions

• He viewed you as an obstacle to get over, whenever he was needed at the panel it seemed you always swooped in and said, “Nope, we’re doing this.”

• Your justification was that it was fun and that Riley needed to experience different things no matter if she gets a little hurt in the process

• Most of the other emotions either agreed or were indifferent to your ways

• Joy and Anger supported your impulsive nature the most. Joy was all about having as much fun as possible and Anger wanted to yell at people

• Fear was shocked that you would be okay with her getting hurt in any capacity, even if it was just a scratch on the knee

• It only seemed to get worse for Fear as Riley got older

• The more she grew up, the more impulsive she felt

• He was going crazy

• One time Riley got mad at her parents and wanted to cut her hair. She’d been wanting a haircut but knowing that it would make her parents mad if she did it herself fueled her reason to cut it impulsively

• She stood looking in the bathroom mirror with scissors in hand, you controlling the panel

• “Here we go, are you ready everyone?” You shouted excitedly

• “No, stop!” Fear screamed

• “Nope, no one? Alrighty then!” You said grabbing ahold of the panels lever and slamming it upward

• Fear stopped in his tracks and just watched you. He looked up to see the hair falling in the sink below

• At this point he felt helpless. He didn’t see a point in caring anymore

• Fear walked out of the room, defeated

• After Riley’s botched haircut was complete the other emotions held a lackluster expression on their faces

• “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought that would turn out better.” Joy said with her hand on her chin

• “It’s awful! That’s what we get for trusting this one.” Disgust said sarcastically, eyeing you

• “I think it’s fine.” Anger shrugged

• “Well guys, sorry I’m not a professional it just felt right in the moment and hey, Riley feels more calm now, so my job here is done.” You walked toward Ennui’s couch then stopped mid-step

• Where was Fear?

• You looked all around the room and didn’t see the purple nerve

• A part of you felt guilty for ignoring him when he was trying to prevent a mistake

• Even though you didn’t see it as a mistake. It was necessary, Riley was mad so instead of yelling at her parents she cut her hair, seemed reasonable

• However, you hurt your colleague’s feelings so you decided to find him and apologize

• You found him sitting on his bed

• “Hey Fear.” you gently said while sitting next to him

• “What do you want Impulsive?” He scoffed looking down

• “I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t know you’d get so hurt from me ignoring you, I mean I do that all the time-”

• Fear cut you off, “Exactly, that’s the problem. You ignore me all the time. I don’t feel important when you’re in control of the panel. Riley needs to be safe and she can’t be safe physically, socially, or mentally when you’re in control and do bad things. Worst part is, it’s only getting worse.”

• He sounded fed up and deflated

• “I understand where you’re coming from Fear, but Riley needs to take risks sometimes. You make it sound like I’m always in control, I’m not. Joy’s the one who leads, you know that. Plus Riley’s getting older so of course she’s going to take more risks.” You retorted

• “Well, tell me how we can coexist? How can we both do our jobs when we don’t agree on what choices to make? None of the other emotions conflict as much as we do.”

• Your face grew more serious as you noticed how much he’d been dealing with these thoughts silently this whole time, “Listen, we’re all important for Riley in some way. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be here. Sometimes I need to be in control of the panel and sometimes you do. We’re both equals here. I won’t ignore you anymore, when I’m about to control I’ll see what you have to say first. You can give me input and I’ll listen now. Same way everyone else gives input when someone controls.”

• Fear finally looked up from his fidgeting hands, “Thank you.” He smiled

• You patted his shoulder and jumped up from the bed, “Back to it then, comrade?”

• Fear got up with you and you both chatted while returning back to the others

• After your problems were resolved you and Fear grew surprisingly close

• Not in a million years would you have thought one day you’d consider Fear your best friend

• He could say the same for you

• Once you started considering him more he started chatting you up randomly throughout the day

• It started out as just awkward small talk but then it escalated

• You two would find yourselves sitting down having a cup of your favorite beverages talking about anything and everything

• You both had some nerdy interests in common

• “Oooh look at that comic! We need it!” Envy declared, eyes glued on the comic

• “Let’s steal it!” You blurted out, caught up in your head

• “Let’s buy it!” Fear shouted after you slightly pulling your hand away from the panel

• “Oh yeah,” you chuckled “that’s probably a better idea”

• While you always disagree with each other you rarely argue about it

•Each of you recognize the importance of the other

• Fear was here to keep Riley safe. You were here to help Riley let off steam and not always in a bad way, you realized

• With Fear’s help you began channeling your impulses into more positive things

• When Riley was feeling impulsive it didn’t always mean she wanted to punch a hole in the wall. It also meant she felt more creative. During these times she would draw, write, or practice hockey

• With your help, Fear learned how to stay calm and not pass out as much during scary situations

• You helped him “lock in” and get Riley out of any dangerous position while hyping him up

• The other emotions were surprised at how close you were after everything. You were total opposites yet now you worked so well together

• You guys were always talking, sometimes distracting the other emotions from the panel

• “Can you guys shut up for a second we’re taking a test!” Disgust whisper-yelled

• “Oh sorry!” you both whispered in unison

• You played board games together and often stayed up late when games ran long, determined to see who would win

• On movie nights you’d sit beside each other

• Fear would hold onto your arm if it was a horror movie and constantly get jumpscared

• Overall, you got close really fast after your disagreement and became inseparable

• You both regret not handling your issues sooner so that you could have had more quality time as best friends instead of adversaries

-

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed

[dracoxsworld]

Dozed Off - Harry P. x Reader

You arrived at Kings Cross station, bags in hand. The crisp Autumn air flew through your hair. Your knuckles were white, strongly grasping the handles of your bag.

You see your friend, Hermione, standing with her parents, speaking with another Hogwarts student.

“Granger!” You call out, standing on your tippy toes so she can see you better.

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” She responded, her face lighting up. She runs to you and wraps her arms around you. You set your bags down and wrap your arms around her as well. “How was your summer?” Hermione asked, helping you with your bags. “Not long enough, surely. I actually packed so last minute I didn’t get much sleep.” You admitted, chuckling to yourself. “You really should do better with your sleep schedule, Y/N, sleep is your brains best friend-!” Hermione went on about how I can help my brain.

You then see another familiar face, Harry Potter. You and Harry never had classes together, so you never had much conversations even though you've known each other for years. He greeted you and Hermione. "Has Ron arrived yet?" The boy with the messy black hair asked. Hermione shook her head. "No, not yet, Y/N and I were just talking about our summer, how was yours?" She asked.

"Oh, you know- brilliant, the Dursley's are always the best family to be around." Harry said sarcastically. Hermione frowned. Harry waved it off. "It's fine, Y/N, how as your summer?" Your head perked up.

To tell the truth, Harry Potter always had you in awe. He was fearless, intelligent, and charismatic; characteristics you felt attracted to. "oh, it was- you know-" You stammered. Hermione gave you and ornery smile. She knew. Before you could finish, Ron Weasley, your red-haired and freckled skinned friend came running to your group.

“Hermione! Harry! Y/N!” He exclaimed, giving you all a group hug. “How was your summer?” Hermione asked Ron. “It was fine, mostly playing Quidditch with Fred and George.” Ron smiled.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but Ron and I have to sit with the Prefects on the train, we will see you two once we get to Hogwarts.” Hermione politely explained, grabbing Ron by his arm. Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione I just got here-“ he started to argue, but she was pulling him away. I chuckled as the pair bickered.

“Well then, would you like to sit with me?” Harry asked, pushing up his glasses awkwardly. “Sure, sounds good.” You said, unable to keep eye contact. Harry was very handsome, he had grown into his looks quite a bit. He had gotten a haircut, although his raven hair was still messy. His glasses were taped together in the middle, and his skin was fair. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green.

Both you and Harry boarded the train, and found a compartment to sit at. “So, Y/N-“ Harry started as he put both yours and his luggage above your seat on the shelf. “We’ve never talked much, have we?” He asked. You shook your head. “What was your childhood like?” He asked. Deep question, required some thought.

“Well, my moms a half-blooded witch, my dad is a pure-blooded wizard, so it wasn’t a surprise when I levitated for the first time.” You chuckled. Harry’s eyes shined, he took a seat next to you. “What’s it like growing up in the muggle world?” You asked. Harry shrugged. “Kinda boring compared to the magical world. I’m sure it wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t living with the Dursleys.”

You and Harry talked for about an hour about your childhoods, embarrassing moments, and funny stories. Your eyelids started to get heavy. “Godric. It’s been a long day.” You yawned and stretched. Harry was tired too, he took off his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes. “I suppose this has been a long train ride. You’re just very entertaining I haven’t noticed.”

You blushed, “Why thank you, golden boy.” Harry’s lips curled into a smile. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and you felt yourself getting more and more sleepy.

Harry’s POV:

Y/N’s head was swaying left and right, until I softly pushed their head onto my shoulder, which then fell into my lap.

They were out like a light, very quietly snoring. I chuckled to myself. Why have I waited so long to get to know them? My hand gently went through their hair. I had a small bag on the floor next to my feet, with a quilt. With my wand I swished and flicked and the quilt unfolded itself and softly covered Y/N; leaving their head on my lap.

[ageingfangirl2]

You Look Different! Shanks (OPLA)

You return to help your family, taking a break from your captain and crew. Shanks shows up after the situation with Luffy and you let him have it. Shanks x Reader (F)

It had been four months since you'd seen your captain and crew. You'd gotten word from your hometown that they needed help, and since The Red Force was sailing around without anything to do Shanks allowed you to have some time off. He'd contacted you around a month ago saying they were close to getting a devil fruit so it would be about a month before they could pick you up. You'd learnt over the years not to question your captain, he might seem a little stupid at times but he always had a plan.

Your island needed your help getting rid of some bandits who'd set up camp on the edge of the village and were terrorising the locals. You'd dispatched them pretty quickly using your swordsmanship and agility, you didn't get to be on a pirate crew without having something useful to offer. It wasn't the career path your parents wanted, instead, they wanted you to stay on the island and take over the family farm. But you saw respect in their eyes when the whole island wanted to celebrate your victory against the bandits.

Today was another day tending to the vegetables, a lot of crops were ready to be harvested so you had a lot of work to do and not much time to laze around. Your parent's farm was far from the dock, so you had no clue what or who was about to happen to you.

You were dealing with some awkward carrots that didn't want to be pulled up, so you grip the tops and yank them out of the soil with force when a shadow looms over you from behind blocking the sun.

'I keep telling you to be gentle, don't be so forceful, take it nice and slow, you'll both get a lot more pleasure out of it,' Shanks's familiar jokey voice says.

'Captain,' you gasp, and turn around in genuine shock, having lost track of the days since that letter.

Shanks smirks, 'I knew you missed me the most.'

You remove the gloves you were wearing and stand up, brushing dirt off your knees, checking your captain out head to toe, 'You look...different...new haircut?'

Shanks frowns and pulls back his cape revealing his shirt tied up next to a stump, 'I lost an arm.'

You nod and hum, 'I know. The hair thing was a farce. I just didn't want to be rude, what the hell happened to you?'

Shanks tells you about a boy called Luffy, a devil fruit he no longer had in his possession, a fight, which resulted in him losing his arm to save Luffy. You run your fingers through your hair as you approach him.

'YOU IDIOT!' you shout, and punch him in the one arm he still had, 'I KNOW YOU SEE THINGS WE DON'T BUT THAT WAS REAL STUPID. DID THIS SEA MONSTER EAT YOUR HAT?'

You weren't mad at him, he had the right to do whatever he wanted, and if you were in his position you wouldn't let a child die, but sometimes you needed to vent at his actions. His sad face showed that you weren't the only one to shout at him, most likely Benn had some choice words as well.

Shanks touches his hair, 'I gave Luffy my hat and told him to give it back to me when he becomes a great pirate.'

You slap his hand away and tangle your fingers in his messy and knotted red locks, 'now you're hatless, you might want to consider a new hairstyle or at least take care of it a bit more,' you tut, sounding more like a mother than a crew member.

He pouts, 'So the hair thing wasn't a farce. Is my hair really that bad?'

You remove your fingers and nod, 'It is captain unless you want to use it as a distraction from the whole missing an arm situation.'

Next thing you know he pulls you into a hug, his one arm wrapped around your waist. It would take some getting used to, but as long as you were around to keep an eye on him hopefully he kept the rest of his limps. You hug him back, happy to be reunited even if there is some tension, at least now you could mock his hair hygiene to distract him.

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Bridgerton S3

"I must say, all those piano lessons in Bath have reaped their reward." Is this their subtle explanation for where This Francesca has been the past two seasons?

"You do realize what tune she was playing right now, don't you? Mozart's Funeral March." "Oh god." Benedict said: I am both a scholar of art AND a smart aleck, Mum

Say what you will, Bridgerton knows the power of a good haircut

LMAO did they have Colin get his tiddies out in the carriage just to show off how hot he is since it'll take a while for him to get naked with someone else?

"It would be pleasant to have my own house." LMAO Francesca, extremely real reason to get married

I like the Featheringtons' husbands, they're just here to vibe

Speaking of marrying into money, Kate is truly the most gorgeous person alive. Bridgerton said: Do you want to watch beautiful people in fancy outfits struggling to socialize? And I said: Yes!

The way that despite their troubles, Eloise STILL protects Penelope's identity and keeps Cressida from sniping at her. The love story of MY season

"My stories from abroad are not suitable for such tender young ladies." With all due respect to Colin: Brother eugh, what's that?

"I take comfort in knowing that you will always be here to take care of me." What's the 1810s equivalent of putting your parents in a home? A convent? Lady Featherington inches closer with her every word to Penelope

"Perhaps something like what they are wearing in Paris?" [...] "I love it brother. Where is it from?" "A trader in Marseille." "My perfume is from Paris?" Bridgerton said: SUBTLETY WHO, COLIN X PENELOPE 4EVER

The sneaky looks on Anthony and Benedict's faces as they help Gregory run away with his bow and arrow KILL me

"I lost the battle, and I've no appetite for the war, so I've joined the winning side. Not unlike you, I take it? Or is this truly the new you?" Eloise said: People in superficial society houses shouldn't throw stones, Colin

(Also. I am in love with Eloise, she charms me more every season. Though wild that they're dissing Emma, Austen has women with SO much agency and Emma specifically is the lady of her house, someone throughout the novel learns that she DOESN'T know everything, and who vows herself not to marry until she changes her mind and falls in love with a friend)

[Voice breaking] "Now you have your life, and I have mine." ELOISE WAHHHHHH. I think she is totally justified, but god, friendship breakups are SOOO brutal

"In truth, I enjoyed having a purpose. Whereas now that you're back, I'm not certain what I'm supposed to do exactly." Explore bisexuality, Benedict <3

YEAHHHHHH Mondrichs!!! I hope society is kind to them

HAHAHAHAHAH I love Kanthony

Kate: You do know that what we are doing is not how one makes an heir?

Anthony, head still between his wife's legs: We have to start somewhere.

If they don't want me to want Penelope and Eloise to be in love, they HAVE to stop making her look at Penelope like that

HAHAHAHHA I love that Penelope, while getting attention from her nice hair and dress, is still extremely awkward when being talked to by a man. It is endearing

After the Queen Charlotte spin-off, I have a new appreciation for Lady Danbury and the Queen's friendship. Agatha knows how to get Charlotte going, 'bestie Lady Whistledown will get more recognition than you if you do not tell everyone who the hottest young debutante is'

Wondering if Kate's gown style is meant to invoke salwar kameez?

I hope Francesca and Penelope become closer!! Two gals who would rather die than talk to any man in this room:

"Why do I have the feeling that you in turn, know how to make one wither, if you so choose?" I do like Lord Debling so far, even if he looks MUCH older than Pen LOL

Every time they have a one-on-one interaction between a man and woman I'm like, why does it only sometimes matter if they're chaperoned LOL? Inconsistent

"You miss me, but you'd never court me. Is that correct?" GET HIM PEN

Not a season goes by that the Featheringtons are not in some kind of financial trouble. They're like the Coopers from The O.C.

"You disapprove? I thought we did not like Penelope." "What you did was cruel and unnecessary." I like both halves of this interaction, that Cressida is saying 'we' as in wanting to be on the same side as Eloise, and that Eloise is calling Cressida out for how awful she's been treating Penelope

I like that Cressida is both acknowledging that she's been unkind but also giving mind to the fact the women of the ton have been raised to be in competition with each other

God I love Kate and Anthony this season, sappy and sex-addled but also Kate making sure to think of Violet's needs and how difficult it would be to suddenly no longer be viscountess

While I do love the idea of charm lessons, and I cannot help but notice MOST of what Colin likes about Penelope are about him, "I know that you will lift my spirits, and make me see the world in ways I could not have imagined." "[You] have always truly made me feel appreciated.") Don't love that

"I will never forgive her," said Colin, about the woman he just called his very good friend and would later go on to marry

Surely the Mondrichs can decide how things are done in their own house, I highly doubt Violet and her husband or Kate and Anthony do separate bedrooms

HAHAHAH I wonder how many episodes Eloise will have fancy hand muffs to hide Claudia Jessie's broken arm

I guess I was wrong about Colin not getting naked, he's just frequenting brothels I suppose?

"Pen, living for the estimation of others is a trap." Spoken like a man who can inherit property and fortune through means other than marriage

I was thinking Francesca and Eloise were on similar plights, but it seems more that Francesca's beef is with any sort of attention than with being married

Hee hee, I love Hyacinth beating her older brothers at cards

"Somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth." I feel that, Penelope! I have no idea what I'm saying half the time

"Your eyes are a most remarkable shade of blue, and yet they shine even brighter when you are kind." If I were Colin, this would immediately do me in, a compliment that specific is really something

This journal thing is symptomatic of Penelope's lack of respect for anyone's privacy, even if it is good she understands what Colin was doing in Paris

"I do not wish for her to be friendless, and you are perhaps all she has now." Eloise is SO understanding given what Penelope has said about her AND Colin

"I think of Prudence as a bonbon. Delicate, and oh so agreeable." "Mr. Dankworth, you are so... pretty." I love Mr. Dankworth. Pretty, loves his wife, gives great compliments, what more can I ask for?

Bold of Eloise to tell Cressida about Colin helping Penelope, she knows that Cressida has been purposely cruel to Pen before

"I think we have found your talent. You are a most entertaining speaker." YEAHHHHH Eloise, getting along with the girls with her gift for gab

"How are we expected to understand all these society rules when even someone born into this world cannot grasp them?" [Benedict makes a face but then smiles at being insulted] As I have been from his very first moment on screen, I'm in love with Benedict:

"We kiss, and then he makes an odd sound, and then goes to change his breeches." "His breeches remain on?" HAHAHAHAH every season there's a problem with no one offering the ladies any formal sex education

"I cannot think of anything [to gossip about] at the moment." GOOD FOR CRESSIDA

"I do not much care for idle gossip," said Penelope, like she wasn't the Queen of Capitalizing on Idle Gossip

I am SHOCKED that they have a character in a wheelchair on this show, and even more shocked there wasn't immediately some comment drawn to it, but glad! It may be a weird show when it comes to race, but at least it's not weird when it comes to ability?

The way the Colin Has Been Helping Penelope reveal was SO dramatic I thought it might actually be a dream sequence

"We can do whatever we want now. We are a married noble couple." That's what I'm talking about, Will

Penelope said: "Be a homie and kiss me," and Colin said: "I do not have the strength to deny that kind of request!"

This second kiss HAS to be a dream sequence, there's no way they'd jump into this without any preamble

Oh it was COLIN'S dream sequence, love that for him!!!!

Fhfkhfkjhf Colin: I did NOT have a wet dream, in case anyone wanted to know!

"[Hyacinth] waits for the maids to throw out last week's copy of Whistledown because she knows she is not allowed to read it." HAHA this is such a big brother thing for Benedict to say

"It was quite harsh what she wrote about you. Unnecessarily so, I think." Eloise said, be nicer to yourself, bestie

Colin does not know how to act around Penelope, this is the first time I've been endeared by him all season

"If I secure a proposal, it will be because of you." You know what that is, Penelope? Foreshadowing!

[Disdainfully] "Apparently he only eats vegetables." They disapprove of vegetarianism in Georgian England. Also. What a thing to say in front of two South Asian women, when India has the HIGHEST proportion of vegetarians in the world, and also has many historical and ongoing ties between vegetarianism and spirituality kjghgkjhg

Is the open mocking of other people supposed to be why we as the audience should be okay with Penelope exploiting other people's drama for profit? Cause I still don't appreciate 1810s Gossip Girl

God, Mrs. Mondrich is SO gorgeous. Peak beautiful people in fancy outfits

"I find your frankness immensely refreshing." I like Lord Debling more with every scene

"Do you feel some attachment to him?" Colin said: Penelope do you still like me check yes or no

Penelope just going "Yeah, me too," to all of Cressida's specific commentary about Lord Debling's interests is difficult to watch

Colin stopping the balloon is the first moment I have personally been attracted to him (ever, I think). I think the more casual outfit does do him some favours. This is his Anthony in the Lake moment

Weel weel weel, perhaps Violet will be finding someone to tend to her garden (her libido) soon

"I see you have met my brother, Lord Marcus Anderson." It would be SOOOOO funny if Violet fucks Lady Danbury's brother after finding out Danbury fucked her dad. It's very messy friendship LMAOOOO

"Perhaps we can enjoy the silence together." I like this man

"I am not afraid of you." "That... is a mistake." I was hoping Benedict would get to flirt with a man this season, but alas it does not seem to be in the cards (you're still bisexual to me, Benedict Bridgerton)

"Members of society do not work." Then how do they make money? Is it only what the crown gives you? What about the lawyers and doctors? Also lol @ this guy admitting that being a landlord isn't an honest line of work

"I do not wish to court someone exactly like myself. I want to be with someone who knows who they are, and embraces their own pecularity, as I do." Men in real life can never do for me what the men in Bridgerton do for me

"It is rare to begin as friends and for both parties to then feel more." I love that Colin is seeking out romantic advice from his mum, he's the only child so far who has earnestly listened to her

HAHAHAH not the I'm-asking-for-a-Friendcesca routine

Colin looked SO desperate to kiss Penelope that for a second I thought he might actually do it in the ballroom in front of everyone

They're selling me on Debling a little TOO much; it's like Daphne and the Prince. Like I know Pen and Colin are great friends, and that they have feelings for each other, but Debling seems like he would make an amazing husband, while I am less convinced that Colin would. Colin is sweet, but he is not street smart, and lacks the emotional awareness that Debling has:

Even if it's not what I ordered, I do enjoy Benedict catting around

What is Lady Danbury's beef with her brother LOL

"Step another pace backwards, you read me too well." Queen Charlotte's spinoff has really made me have a whole new appreciation for Brimsley

"But how will they know each other if they do not speak?" Honestly a very valid question, Violet

Considering that Lord Samadani wants to have eight kids, perhaps he should ask how many kids Francseca wants?

"Well, let him tell you about it. Men love to explain the world to us. If we have already explained it to ourselves through reading, then they will feel superfluous and unnmanned." Lady Featherington years ahead of her time in defining mansplaining HAHA

"Are there any novels in which the man goes travelling for a very long time, but his wife is happy to stay behind, tending the estate? I suppose that would not be a book with much sentiment, would it?" "Not necessarily. But if the wife had her own interests in life, then perhaps they could both be very happy." "A practical match, but a happy one? I like the sound of that." Again, you are selling me on Debling too well. I cannot believe you are making me root for a blond man with a Vegeta hairline*

*There's nothing wrong with the way this man looks, he just looks much older than Penelope!

"But it is tiring, is it not? The necessity for us to remain caveliar about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?" Colin Discovers: Toxic Masculinity Bad

"Do you know what is romantic? Security." Real, Lady Featherington

"My head is bottle-weary." What a poetic way to say you're hungover

Do we think Cressida and Eloise could fall in love? Let me have at least one lesbian in this show, please:

"And is your heart located in your breeches?" Apparently Lady Danbury's beef with her brother is that he is a slut

"To be honest, my work has such a large portion of my heart it may difficult to make more space. But I am very glad that you are someone who seems to have such a full life." Alright, I can see why Debling might not be the perfect match

Colin said: What up Penelope I'm here to ruin your marital prospects

"But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings. Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. About that kiss. Feelings like dreaming of you when I'm asleep. And in fact, preferring sleep because that is where I might find you. A feeling that is like torture. But one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up." I'll hand it to Colin, that was a pretty good confession, 8/10, I'd knock points off for the torture remark

Whoever is dating the Bridgerton cast has to be so strong, these scenes so impassioned

"For God's sake, Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?" Good for them!!!

I will say, bold choice to hard launch to the fam in the wee hours of the night immediately after a ball and fingering in the carriage, but if anyone's going to be cool about it, it's the Bridgertons:

EXTREMELY fair of Eloise to exit right away when she finds out her best friend with whom she has shared a borderline romantic breakup after several years of exploitation of her family for money and at least two pointed attacks on Eloise and her brother suddenly announces she's gonna be her sister-in-law

"And until he knows the real you, he cannot possibly love you." YOU RIGHT, ELOISE

"I will tell him. You have my word." "Very well." Kind of Eloise to still take Penelope at her word

NOT BENEDICT MISSING HIS BROTHER'S ENGAGEMENT BECAUSE HE WAS OUT PHILANDERING

Anthony and Kate are SO beautiful. I loooove them

"I am simply enjoying the view of my ravishing wife, and soon-to-be mother of my child." OOOOOh Kanthony baby, love that for them

HAHAHAHAH Anthony immediately forgetting how happy he is about the baby because he is PISSED another sibling is getting married without his permission

"I am one of the brothers as well." "I think of you as the family pet." BRUTAL HYACINTH HAHA

"If I do have to marry a man who could be my great-grandfather, we can at least use his money to shop, and queen over society like Lady Danbury." Cressida you are so lesbian to meeee

"The final part, the betrothal. it did all happen rather... swiftly." "It was swift because you--" "Are you going to duel your own brother or...?" Anthony's definitely thinking about it, Benedict!

Anthony insisting on Colin telling Penelope the depth of his feelings for her. That's growth, baby!

"I proposed to [Penelope] out of love, nothing less. And were you not so narrowly concerned over your own standing, you might see see that Penelope is the most eligible amongst you." Now THIS is the romance I'm talking about, Colin

"I will always stand up for you. Because I love you... Pen." "Are you sure?" [Nods] AWWWW they're so sweet

"You are cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known." Finally a compliment that feels like it's about Penelope (even if it was immediately followed by a comment about Colin)

I love Colin's Lustful List of How Hot His Fiancee is, and that he asks her specifically if she wants to stop because she's a lady!!

Oh smutty consensual Bridgerton, we back baybeeeeeeeee

"Tell me what to do." "I will do everything." "No, tell me." Ohhhhhh I love this

I LOVE knowing that Nicola Coughlan requested to be as naked as possible for this scene as a memory of how hot she is. And she was RIGHT

"Can we do it again?" "Give me five minutes. Maybe ten." HAHAHA this was a perfect scene from start to finish

"Is this the only reason you wish to delay our news? You are happy, I hope?" "Oh... Very happy." I love Anthony checking in on Kate about her pregnancy. He is such a sweet husband

"I wish to be married. Very much, in fact. I just hope my husband will not hide my piano stool from me." "I would not dream of it." I have been sold on John Stirling since his first shared silence with Francesca, I love them!!

"You seem to be quite good at [planning hospitality.]" "Oh, I am. I'd still much rather be out riding somewhere." I love Eloise and Kate's friendship also

"Finally, the woman will get the consequences she deserves." You see, Penelope, this is why you should have told Colin you were Whistledown BEFORE you agreed to marry him. Or before sex, or at any point whatsoever. You KNOW he has beef with Whistledown. This is engagement-ending stakes

God Eloise has been SO reasonable this whole time but I really do think the 5000 pound reward is a fair incentive to sell Penelope down the river for her own sake or even for Cressida's. It's tough being a lady in the 1800s!

"Somber clothing is best. Gray or brown. And we do not flit about town, engaged in gossip within the ton. We shall attend no more than one ball per month, and only if the hosts are of strong moral character. I certainly do not believe in music, and modern art nowadays is absolutey scandalous. Her tender eyes and ears will never be exposed to such filth." Not to be dramatic but I think Lord Greer has to die. Somebody needs to spook him really hard, he's like 105, it won't take much

"Featheringtons support one another." "Is that what you were doing earlier, supporting me?" "You are right, I have been unkind. But it stops now. And thankfully we have your engagement party coming up to allow us our fresh start." Parents really do think they can fix years of trauma with a single 'my bad'

"Your ledgers will not miss you, but your family will." A good wake-up call for Mondrich

"Do not take an interest in her. I have a new bow and arrow. Would you like to see it?" Tweens are still the same in 1815 HAHA

Hahaha Lady Danbury could not be emanating "Please don't fuck my brother," vibes harder. To which Lady Bridgerton said, "You fucked my dad, I'm definitely fucking your brother!"

"If it proves too difficult for you to reveal the truth, I will be merciful and reveal it to him myself. You have until midnight." Good for Eloise for giving her a deadline!!

AWWWWW John struggling through the boots story. He said: I'm an introvert and I will not be socialized, xoxo

"I know it is unlike you to cajole your own children." "You mock me." "As you rightly mocked me all last season." I missed these interactions between Anthony and Mama Bridgerton!!! I love when the Bridgertons are all in the same place

HAHAHAHA not Eloise dropping a really threatening post-script to Colin's speech about how excited he is for marriage

If they don't want me to want Penelope and Eloise to be in love, they gotta stop being so fucking intense all the time. They're turning charades into their own private intellectual battle

Also Cressida is reasonably, pretty jealous, considering the homoerotic friendship fight vibes. She said: Hey, I thought it was my turn to be gay!

Eloise said: I do not have time for two homoerotic friendships, sorry Cressida, Penelope has seniority

"All that to say, sometimes I miss what is right in front of me. But not Miss Francesca. Her, I saw straight away." I love you John, you are my favourite Bridgerton character of the season (book readers, tell me nothing!!)

"It is a great change, but you and I will make our way with our child, as we have always done with each other," said Anthony, like they weren't a whole mess last season public fucking in the Bridgerton gardens and getting into horse accidents

OMGGGGGGGGGG Cressida! Saying she's Whistledown so that she doesn't have to marry Lord Greer is truly a 'work smarter, not harder' moment

The smart move for Penelope would be to say nothing at all as Lady Whistledown and see how the Cressida thing pans out. Also, TELL COLIN!!

"You have many gifts, but cleverness is not amongst them." A harsh review on Cressida from Mama Cowper

"It is one thing to follow the rules. But if you want to win the game, you must lead it. Otherwise you will always be on the defensive." I love Agatha mentoring the Mondrichs

"Lady Bridgerton. Forgive my intrusion, I simply forgot my hat." Lord Anderson left his hat so he'd have an excuse to see her again. This is No. 1 in the Flirting Playbook

My question is: How do you have a booty call when you have have seven of your children in your house. Eight if you count in-laws!

Anderson really came to just flirt with Violet and leave. I love that!

"Excuse me, I have been taken ill of the plague, and you are all doomed by association." HAHAHA John is so funny. I keep saying I love him, but it's true

HAHAHAH Benedict ending his macaron fight with Gregory and Hyacinth by saying "Last macaron for you," to John, his new soon-to-be brother-in-law is incredible family dynamics at play

"Perhaps I can make Lady Whistledown go away, so she shall not be able to harm any of us again." "You will speak with Miss Cowper?" "With the scribe herself." Eloise is a WAY better friend than Penelope deserves

"Eloise, I have worked too hard for too long. Of all people, I refuse to let Cressida Cowper take credit." We have passed Bad Friend and circled to deranged. It is NOT girl boss behaviour to lie to your fiance and BRAG about exploiting your friend. Get some help, Penelope!

"Lady Whistledown is my name. Not hers." "Your name is about to Bridgerton. You cannot be both." YOU TELL HER, ELOISE

"We think speaking to the Queen would be the wisest decision." "Well, if you think you are up to it." "We would like you to speak to the Queen." Francesca said: I'm not afraid to have my mommy fight my battles for me

"What about my dreams?" "What dreams? Ladies do not have dreams. They have husbands." I know is a great line and a really stark commentary on the lack of independence for women of the era, but it also kinda reminds me of 'I do not remember names, I am female' in Queen Charlotte and that kills me a bit HAHA

"And my greatest wish has always been for you three to do better than I did. And you have." Penelope having her Mum Trauma healed in real time

Also Lady Featherington, the mess that she is, continues to be one of the most compelling characters in this show

"I am hosting a dinner party later this week. For you, and me, and my dear friend Paul. Will you come?" [CHANTING] BISEXUAL BENEDICT, BISEXUAL BENEDICT, LET HIM KISS PAUL

"I'm writing a manuscript in fact." [High pitched, perturbed] "Oh, are you?" That's also how I feel about Colin's manuscript, Benedict

Colin dancing with Penelope in the empty church <3 Stoppp it's so sweet. (Also. TELL HIM)

"May I present Lady Keswick." Danbury said: You will not be fucking my best friend on my watch, brother!! If only Eloise was this efficient

"It is no wonder Penelope abandoned you. All you ever do is talk. You clearly just envious that I have made something of myself." "Perhaps I am envious of Whistledown. It is quite a feat. And after spending a season feeling nearly invisible, I almost understand why one might be driven to write it. Congratulations on your hard-earned success." Not another homerotic friendship break-up. That's 2 for 2, Eloise!

It must be weird for all the Featheringtons now that Penelope is the favourite child

Well, burning every copy of Whistledown she's made and hanging up her pen is the second best thing that Penelope could do other than TELLING COLIN

They're really namedropping the town of Mayfair more this season than any before it

"You know my favourite part about dressmaking is seeing the glow on a woman's face when she puts the dress on. I can't imagine ever giving that feeling up. At any rate, we will make you the most beautiful dress." I appreciate Delacroix sharing what she thinks about Penelope giving up the column without pushing her in any sense

Things are going pretty well for me Bisexual Threesome Dreams:

Every since that one post about how the Bridgertons are the Kardashians of their town because they're popular, rich and keep getting with people of colour, I CANNOT stop thinking about it. Particularly for Lady Bridgerton and Lord Anderson, who are now Nicer Kris Jenner and Old Timey Hoe Corey Gamble in my mind

HAHAHAHAH Agatha really said: Marcus I will introduce you to EVERY widow in this town if it keeps you away from Violet

"Not bad. Not bad at all." God I love the Mondrichs earning the Queen's respect by throwing the sickest first ball the town has seen

"I have supported you." "You have been perfunctory in your support." Something something when the people who you love fail you

"Not every attachment must be dramatic and hard-fought. What John and I have is easy... and I love him, Mama. Even if it is not the love you want for me." We have now circled back to Violet's S2 ideology that Bridgertons are physically incapable of having a healthy courtship. Francesca has one, and it's nearly destroying her relationship with her mother LMAO

"The night before I was to be married, I very nearly escaped to freedom. Do you think I did not know that it was you who betrayed me to our father? I heard him thank you." That's really fair, I know it's been like 30 years and Agatha has a really nice life now, but financial independence does not make up for years of marital [LOUD FOGHORN NOISE] and the general unpleasantness of being married to Lord Danbury

"Soma. Soma..." "Soma? You think you can call me by my born name, and right the wrong?" Lord Danbury took her NAME? EUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I genuinely think that Marcus didn't know. It's giving, for me it was the worst day of my life, for you, it was a Tuesday

"Apparently the wine has made me rather rude." "It has also made you rather charming." I think Benedict is about kiss a man. I have NEVER been happier while watching Bridgerton. I have been saying Bi Benedict since Day 1. He's my people. That is a bisexual man!! I had to pause to hop around for a minute because I am that thrilled at the possibility what I have been asking for 3 years might actually come to fruition. GOD BLESS SHONDALAND. [HOLT FROM B99 VOICE] VINDICATION

Benedict after a man has flirted with him for the first time: I gotta go think about some stuff

I was joking, but HE DID have to go think about some stuff. Aww baby, you'll get there!

Not "[In BSL] she is the Devil," at Cressida hahahaha Sign Language Mama doesn't hold back

"Those [personal passages in my journal] are only for you." Awwww Colin that's sweet

Cressida is so unhinged for posting a Whistledown mid-ball. I do love the drama of it though

HAHAHA them having a close-up of Mama Cowper's arm with ink stains if we couldn't tell it was her from Cressida's near-and-far-far-and-wide speech earlier to the cohesive bulletin of her mum's writing. They don't do subtlety in Bridgerton

AWWWW the Crisis of Cowpers bringing Eloise and Penelope back together again. I can only imagine Colin's gonna overhear their conversation

"Writing was the only way I felt I could have a voice. And I should've been using the column to give a voice to the other voiceless. I have done plenty of damage with my pen. Please, let me use it now to do some good." "You must get a full issue out right away." I LOVE YOU PENELOPE AND ELOISE SOLVING THIS TOGETHER. CRIMES PARTIALLY FORGIVEN, PEN!

"You... are Lady Whistledown?" Turns out he followed her to the publishing house. FINALLY THOUGH. Talk it out, you Bonkers Betrothed

[Tearfully] "All of the lies... you have told me. All of the things you have written about me and my family." That is SUCH a fair reaction Colin, Penelope really has built an empire on shit-talking your family in secret

"I will never forgive you." Really? Cause you've got like 3 weeks to figure it out before your wedding, Colin

"Perhaps, because a few of [the Bridgerton children] may be of dubious parentage." What does that even MEAN, Cressida!! Which parent are you suggesting was getting around

Also, how's Penelope planning to explain the situation with Colin to anyone. What's Colin gonna do? The last time a woman lied to him, he had to end an engagement

"How many eyes exactly do you think there are in the ton?" "Double the amount of people, I would imagine." Philippa and Prudence's dialogue is great

"Whenever I try to grasp her hand these days, she does not swat it away with nearly the same gusto." Prudence has married the only man in this town with a rejection kink

"Perhaps I should read it then. I could use a distraction." You can't read your way out of bisexuality, Benedict. Try taking Am I Gay Quizzes and failing them. It worked for me!

"I cannot help you with this, Pen. I am so grateful for everything you have done for me, but already, I feel in the middle between you and Colin. Perhaps I always have been." That's because your friendships always lean romantic, Eloise!! And your best friend loves to lie all day every day

"But I hope you know that my care for you is not contingent on your aid. I am here for you, Agatha. Always. Even when there are no unmarried children left to help." [Softly] "Thank you, Violet. That means a great deal to me." Ohhhhh I love their friendship

"Are you going to stop publishing?" "I do not know." At least Penelope is finally being honest

Colin said: I'm still gonna marry you, but I'm not gonna be happy about it, Pen!!!

HAHAHAHA Tilley inviting Benedict over for an After You Ran Away from Our Threesome Offer Debrief. You know, I found them boring in the first half, but they've really sold me on the second half

"I have known men like Mr. Suarez, but I myself have never felt tempted... before." Oh, that's a qualifier Benedict

"But a feeling between two people, whatever their sex, is the most natural thing in the world." Lady Tilley said: Let me be your Bisexual Guru, Benedict

"If you did not feel anything with Mr. Suarez, then let us, you and I, continue on our own. But you should know... my staff are very discreet." GOD. That we are not only getting bisexual Benedict but that he is getting a bisexuality ARC. More than I could've asked for. I am kissing the Bridgerton writers on the mouth. Giggling and kicking my feet

Look at him trying to figure out if his sexuality. Benedict Girl til I die. FAVE FROM DAY 1

Violet lustfully watching Lord Anderson eat a fruit jelly. This is EXACTLY what Colin did to Penelope. Like mother, like son. All of her kids are different aspects of her personality

"I am not uninterested in exploration. But I will not know if I am ready for that, until after the affairs are... in order. Especially because I am not the only whose affairs need ordering." Violet said: We cannot start a situationship until you sort out your relationship with your sister, Marcus

When Cressida stared into the mirror I did expect Chappell Roan to start playing in violins

"Well, if I am to be bold, I should need some time to think about it." HAHAHA John Stirling, love of my life (second only to Benedict)

"Is everything well?" "Is everything well with you?" The B & C are really going through it on this stag night

"You were a girl who did not know her own power." "But does that justify it?" "No." Madame Delacroix is the realest friend

I really am glad that Colin is airing out all of his beefs with the Whistledown papers. He deserves to give her a lecture

"I can take care of myself." "Then what good am I to you?" "Colin, I love you!" Colin, you have value beyond what you can do for others

Also I can't believe they're ending this fight by getting frisky on the street. WHERE ARE YOUR PRIORITIES, YOU FREAKS? (AFFECTIONATE)

Relationship status: It's extremely complicated:

"Two glasses is celebratory. One whole bottle is a cry for help." HAHAH I love Kate's zingers, she's truly sharp as a tack

[Kate, laughing] "You think our marriage is perfect?" [Anthony, immediatley heartbroken] "Is it not?" HAHAHAH THEY ARE SO CUTE

Every time Kate makes any reference to marriage being hard, Anthony immediately gets upset and goes, 'I love you, our marriage has no flaws, why are you bullying me?'

"I drunk a whole bottle before my wedding (the second wedding) and it was deeply celebratory. Three raw eggs in the morning." It's been a while since Anthony has broken out Dad Mode, but that was a good one

The context that Marcus was 10 years old when he ratted out Agatha trying to escape really does make me not blame him quite so hard for it. He was a kid, he didn't understand long term consequences!

"You had something in you all along, a kind of courage I never dreamed of having. I have wished so many times that I had stood up to him. For you. For myself." New Bridgerton Dubious Race Trope unlocked: Why do all the Black characters (Simon, Agatha, the ongoing plot around the Mondrichs, Marina and Charlotte not having parents at all) have abusive or absent fathers? Discuss

But to be fair, most people in Bridgerton have absent or dead fathers. They're like 'Men? We don't need 'em!'

Also, good for Marcus for putting his resepect for his sister into words

"Do not come for my cane. I suppose you got all the good joints in the family." What a chronic pain sister with a healthy brother mood

"At last, my life is full of joy. And I've been afraid you would take it away from me." "Any joy I am after, I deep hope you are a large part of." Ohhhhhhh we love a healing of family trauma. This is the season of Therapizing Your Relatives

The way they keep referencing Anthony and Kate's wedding that they completely skipped. LOL

WHY IS YELLOW BY COLDPLAY THEIR WEDDING MARCH SONG LMAOOOOO

To date they have not shown a wedding under normal circumstances. Someone's always fighting, or lying, or under duress. It's brutal actually

Ohhhhh the way Colin nods at Penelope like 'we'll be okay.' MY HEART. I do love that they are friends in love getting married

I do feel like this was the most normal wedding so far. Good for them!

"Which brother or sister do you like the best?" "Gregory, clearly." HAHAHA I love Benedict and Eloise's little chats. Best sibling duo

"Love is not finite, Eloise. The friendship you have with Penelope is a lucky thing. As is the one you have with Colin." AWWW Eloise is sad because she thinks they don't have room for her in their hearts (Penelope especially, I think)

"Our child... will always be a Bridgerton. But I should like them to know that they are a Sharma as well, know their history. And it is important for me to know it so that we can share that history, with our child, together." I know that this India trip probably solves a plot purpose of giving Anthony and Kate a place to be but I can't help but also think of what a great example of cross-cultural parenting Anthony is providing. He's so good!!

Anthony and Kate really do be kissing in public all the time, HA

"Weddings are never for the bride and groom, even when things are... well, between the couple." "Thank you, for allowing me work it out for myself." [Lightheartedly] "Well, this wedding couldn't plan itself. I have not had time to meddle. Whatever it is, I know you will resolve it." Lady Featherington and Penelope have come a long way

Them doing the cutaway to them being the only people in the room while they dance. I see you 2005 Pride and Prejudice fan who did directed this scene

"I did not think you a dancer." "Perhaps not. But perhaps we should both be more bold in declaring ourselves." Is it unfair to Colin and Penelope if I say Lord Kilmartin and Francesca are my favourite couple of the season? 'Cause they are

Now that Lady Danbury is cool with Violet and Marcus, Anthony has switched to 'HEY. HEY DO NOT HIT ON MY MUM, LORD ANDERSON. THAT'S MY MUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' O'VISION

I love that the Queen said, "Everyone who's not a Bridgerton, get out," and Lady Danbury said, "Hey, I am at least half Bridgerton by now, I'm staying."

"Do you know what it is like to have nowhere in the world where you can truly be yourself? You cannot possibly know, because you are not a woman. You have the choice to be any kind of person you wish to be, while the only choice women have is to conceal the parts of us the world will not accept." Penelope said: Lying to your fiance and exploiting his family for money is feminism, actually

It's very reasonable for Colin to not accept Penelope continuing to be Whistledown

Aww at least Eloise and Penelope's friendship is back in full force

VINDICATIONNNNNNNNN. BISEXUAL BENEDICT CANON. I WIN. WE ALL WIN. I KNEW HE WAS THE MOST BISEXUAL BRIDGERTON. YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

They split this season in two halves just so they could bisexualize Benedict during Pride Month. That's the reason. I've decided. Happy Pride Month to me!!!!

Also the emotional contrast of these last couple of scenes jgjhgjh

Colin: Fighting with his wife about life-altering deal-breaking secrets 0.03 seconds into marriage, on edge, disappointed and heartbroken

Benedict: Realizing there's a whole other kind of sex he could be having, and having a great time

"You will pay me my sum, or I will reveal the truth to the entire ton." Cressida isn't nice, but she did make a good detective and subsequently, blackmailer

Poor Violet trying to avoid being thrown into scandal once more. Also her and Anthony with parallel declarations that they would've noticed if someone in their house was Whistledown, even though it was Penelope, who until now, has lived across the street

Also also also: Francesca now dropping her own news that she's moving to Scotland Post-Haste

It is satisfying to see Penelope, Colin, Eloise and Lady Featherington all trying to sort out this Whistledown blackmail because they're all aware

"I will not cower to Miss Cowper. I will call upon her tomorrow. Bring her to see this course of action is ruinous for everyone involved." Good luck, Colin

HAHAHAHA again with the contrast of Benedict's family being in crisis while he is off Philandering: Bisexuality Edition

"You do not sound as if you hate Whistledown. You sound as if you are jealous of her." [Unconvincingly] "No I'm not."

Cressida making the sum twice as much + a nice review in Whistledown when Colin tries to empathize with her with his excellent man-free-for-world-travels and supportive family. I'm not gonna lie, kinda girlboss of her

HAHAHAHA Benedict has had no scenes in the past half an hour of Bridgerton but back-and-forths to him and Paul and Tilley. I love it. He's having a great night. They're leaving no doubt about him enjoying this

Also. Not to be bisexual myself. But Benedict being with a man and a woman at the same time is doing more for me than any other Bridgerton scene has ever done. It's a combination of vindication, being a Benedict girl, and the high of hot bi people. Bridgerton. I once again give you a little kiss on the mouth

"You are both adults. You may do as you wish. After all, it is not as though I asked your permission." I cannot believe Agatha is using this Are-You-Gonna-Date-My-Brother talk to confirm that she fucked Violet's dad. Unhinged. Incredible. What the hell!!

"I know my father was a good man. And that you have been a very good friend. And that is all I need to know." Not good enough to not cheat on his wife though, Violet! But I love the sentiment

"And my brother is a good man. And you are a good friend. And that is all I need to know as well." Awww, I do love a mirrored dialogue. I've said it before but Agatha and Violet's friendship is perhaps my favourite on this show

The zoom in on the Birthday hat was EVIL. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

"How do you stand society events?" "I suppose I have love to give in abundance. Love for a bit of chitchat. And love for a good party. Especially a party of three." Benedict is still a romantic at heart, even in a threesome pile

OMG HAS COLIN KEPT EVERY LETTER PENELOPE HAS EVER WRITTEN HIM? I LOOOVE

This does kind of get me thinking of how they handle garbage disposal in Georgian England

Finally the embezzlement funds from Cousin Jack come back to haunt them. The Featheringtons are never not in financial crisis

"What will Lady Whistledown write about our disgrace when I am exposed?" "She will write whatever I like her." "That is a agreat power. What a thing you have made for yourself." This is the most optimistic final take Lady Featherington could have on her daughter being an infamous gossip columnist

"It is my great hope that the silence and beauty of Scotland will allow me to know myself better, so that you can all know me better as well. I want nothing more than to be close." Francesca has such a good heart

"For a long time, I thought that is what love must be like for everyone. Surprising, forceful, quick. But you have shown me that there is another way. There is... beauty in the slow approach." You know what that is, Violet? That's growth! She's such a good mum

"May you now live together in holy matrimony until your dying breath." Ominous way to end their vows (book readers, tell me nothing!!)

What is the proper way to court a widow? I guess we'll find out!

"Lady Bridgerton, I see your openness reflected in Benedict, your charm in Colin, your wisdom in Eloise, and a brightness you've instilled in both Gregory and Hyacinth. In this moment, where I feel so much gratitude for my new wife, I feel it in equal measure for the remarkable woman who raised her. I thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart." Good speech John, I think you've really won the Bridgertons over

Francesca and John's wedding wins for most normal for sure

AW FRANCESCA AND VIOLET'S DUET. Something something complex relationships with your mother:

Also also also. Why are half the scenes in Bridgerton filmed like we're in somebody's pocket. Or in the flower vase. The huge blurs are distracting

"It is not what you do for me that makes me love you. It is your kindness. Your empathy. How much you care. Just being you is enough, Colin. I do not need you save me. I just need you stand by me." I'm glad Penelope is telling Colin this outright, he needed to hear it

"Tilley, you are extraordinary, but I am not certain that serious is what I want." Benedict is the only Bridgerton who knows how to communicate his feelings directly right away

"Is it because of Paul?" "No. Paul could be Patricia, or Polly, or Peter, or all three at once. What happened between the three of us, what has happened to me since I met you, has made me realize how good it feels to be free. You've opened my world. I am not ready to close it again just now." Benedict said: I gotta sow my wild bisexual oats, Tilley, I am not looking for a wife at present

We are BACK at the Bisexual and Lesbian Sibling Swingset. This is where I first grew so attached to Benedict and Eloise. It really is a full circle moment:

"It feels right now that the next thing I learn may change me entirely." "I agree profoundly with everything you've said, as I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Their dialogue is so fun

"We should not let so long pass again between us before we meet on these swings to be entirely confused together." BENEDICT. B AND E BEST SIBLING DUO

Lady Featherington saying she's proud of her daughters like it's been ripped out of her forcefully. She is so my mum-coded LMAO

"She calls upon my mercy, asking to address you all herself. To plead her case publicly, before I pass my judgment. So I turn the floor over now to the scribe herself." This is a very dramatic way to resolve the Lady Whistledown situation but I guess they did leave it til the last 20 minutes of the season

Also RIP Cressida, who is definitely being shipped off to Wales

"She seems humbled, but we will be watching that she remains so. What is life without a little gossip?" Wow, all took was 3 minutes of 'my bad, you're actually very brave for doing things where I can see them, I won't do it again xoxo' to win over the whole ballroom and the Queen. Power of Lady Whistledown, I guess!

HAHAHAHAHA THE BUGS THAT PHILIPPA LOVED SO MUCH BEING BUTTERFLIES. I WAS KIND OF HOPING THEY WERE SPIDERS (EVEN THOUGH THEYR'E ARACHNIDS) FOR THE COMEDY, BUT THIS IS MUCH CUTER

"You... are a genius." "I know!" Hee hee, go Featherington (or Dankworth-Finch, as it were) sisters

"There is only one person who loves the Bridgertons more than I." "You knew it was me." "I suspected. You are not the only lady of the ton who can keep a secret." YEAH AGATHA <3

"We can now tell that solicitor that money came from my writing. He will have no recourse. Time for us to do better." [Softly] "My girl." I wonder if Lady Featherington is gonna come clean and give the money back

"You have always had one voice. There is no separating you from Whistledown. And after seeing you speak today, well, I would not want to." AND it fixed her marriage. What a powerful speech

"If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you, then I will be a very fulfilled man, indeed." "I love you. You are very good man, Mr. Bridgerton." I didn't buy the forgiveness because it feels super rushed, but I do buy this

"Francesca Bridgerton. Kilmartin. Kilmartin is my name now." Ggkhkgjhgkjhg why is Francesca so flustered by Michaela Stirling? Is she also gonna go down a sexuality journey?? Not the sibling I anticipated!! Also does them introducing a new character mean the story will follow Eloise and Francesca in Scotland

Also wait wait wait. IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE FRANCESCA'S (BOOK SPOILERS THAT I HAVE VAGUELY OBTAINED) OTHER LOVE INTEREST? OH MY GOD

"Only until next year. Do you think Mama would ever let me miss her Masquerade Ball?" WEE OO WEE OO I KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT THE BOOKS TO KNOW THAT THAT MEAN'S BENEDICT'S NEXT BABEYYYYYYY

You know, I kept thinking about how Penelope had lost a titled match for Colin, who is the third son, and it turns out they do get to have a little baby Lord Featherington! And she gets to pass on her family name. I love that for Penelope:

What this season lacked in pacing, it more than made up for in gusto, Bisexual Bridgertons, really powerful and satisfactory friendships, a ton of Bridgerton family interactions, and more than enough romance to keep me giggling and kicking my feet for days. Honestly, it might be my favourite season, for little to do with the main couple, everything to do with the drama and excitement and fun dialogue of it all. I do really keep enjoying this show!! Every part of Bridgerton is good after S1 LOOOOL. KEEP 'EM COMING BABY!