#pickle in a hat says thank you

[avenpt]

We just wanted to thank everyone for following us. We've gotten a lot of new followers of late, and it's greatly appreciated. We're trying to be more active compared to before...so thank you!!

Here is a walking pickle (or is he a bean?) tipping his cap in appreciation for you all.

[novemberheart]

{Overview} Your pack is gone again. You have to go through an emergency alone

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141 x reader, a/b/o dynamics, chapter story, panic attacks, trouble breathing, some emotional angst, a cute golden retriever

Chapter 34 <- Chapter 35 -> Chapter 36

The leaves were starting to change. The hot dry weather you so hated was beginning to shift as well.

“You play this song too much,” Anais whined, reaching for the phone in your hand. You made no move to stop her, rolling your eyes playfully. It was nearly your stop anyways. A gust of air left the bus as it screeched to a halt, you and Anais shooting up out of your seats. Anais took the earbud out of her ear, passing it back to you. You and Anais worked your way down the street, dodging puddles and people with low self awareness. Jane opened the door for the two of you. “Could’ve texted us you were already here. We waited outside your door for ten minutes,” Anais chided, shedding off her scarf and coat. You followed suit.

“Was like three minutes Anais,” you chuckled, patting Jane on the arm. Jane remained silent, a small quirk in her lips as she disappeared into the back again.

“You heard anything from your pack?” Jane called.

“No,” you sighed, flicking the oven dial on. Your pack had been gone for three weeks. You haven't heard from them since they left. It was the longest you’ve gone without speaking to them. You ran your knuckles over the two marks engraved against your skin, your heart thrumming painfully in your chest. “They’re fine though,” you insisted.

“Course they are,” Jane and Anais said in unison.

“I’m going to get started on the frosting,” Anais spoke. “How about you start planning next week's menu. You’re much more creative than we are,” Anais added. Jane nodded her head in agreement.

Ten minutes before the bakery opened a line started to form. You were thankful you had a busy job to keep your mind off of your pack. Yet it wasn’t completely unavoidable. The smell of cinnamon reminded you of Johnny. The leather chairs reminded you of Simon. Anytime someone came in with a hat on it reminded you of Kyle. The sound of coffee brewing reminded you of John.

The work day was nearly over before you knew it.

“I’ll run and get us some sandwiches from down the street,” Anais offered.

“I’ll go with you. You always forget I hate pickles,” Jane huffed. They turned to look, and you offered them a small smile.

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You two go ahead,” you assured with a wave of your hand.

“If you’re sure,”

“Stay out of trouble please,” Anais nearly begged, making you giggle. Your smile dropped as soon as they left, the numbness returning to your body. Your fingers ran over the marks on your neck again. It had become a habit now. It made you feel something. A reminder that you weren't alone. You belonged to a pack. Even if that pack was halfway across the globe. You couldn't say that with complete confidence. For all you knew they were a few cities over on a mission. That would be a tough pill to swallow. Them being so close yet so far.

You huffed as a familiar fever resettled over your skin. That had also become a habit. You dug in your bag for a bottle of fever reducers. You used to hate pills. Now they are the only thing keeping you feeling semi-normal.

“Fever again?” You jumped at the voice behind you. “Sorry,” he apologized, holding his hand up defensively.

“It’s alright Mr. Avery,” you chuckled. He gave you a slightly worried smile, the back of his hand resting against your forehead.

“My daughter gets fevers when she's upset too,” he sighed. “They can be tiring. If you need extra breaks let me know,” he pressed. Your eyes welled up and before you could stop yourself you wrapped your arms around his soft middle.

“I just miss my pack,” you whined. His hand rested on your back, rubbing soothing circles against your sweater.

“I know, hon,” he sighed sadly. “Can only imagine how much they miss you too,” he added. They better miss you. It wouldn't be fair if you were the only one walking around with a hole in your heart. Mr. Avery rubbed your back til the tears died down, projecting the warm scent of alpha that you so dearly missed. You were lucky he was so understanding.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, working up the courage to pull away. “You should get an award for being the best boss,” you tried to chuckle. His lips quirked.

“As long as you and the girls think I am- that's all I need,” he smiled. ”Lets get some food in you and I’ll drive you girls back to base,” he recommended, already guiding you to one of the plush chairs.

Maybe the smell of leather would do you some good.

Something wasn't right.

Your fever had yet to die down, instead, it spread throughout your whole body. You felt sick, half of your body clinging to the toilet yet nothing could come up. Your vision was spotty, your limbs heavy.

The only thing you could think of was the distance between you and your alphas. That had to be it right? You were going through withdrawals. You trudged your way to Simon's closet, grabbing one of the last items of clothing and holding it to your nose.

It didn't help.

Nothing did.

No amount of scent from your pack was easing the sickness. It was close to early morning now and your eyes had yet to close for more than a second.

You had to get help.

You threw on some scent blockers to cover the smell of sour lemons. You had to be fast. You couldn't be caught wandering around base while it was so dark. You were in no condition to fight back either.

You grabbed Vernie’s leash, attaching it to her collar. You didn't- couldn't go alone. The two of you stayed close to the buildings- for cover and support.

The medical center felt further away than it ever had. Every step felt like a race against the clock. You thought back to your nightmare about Kyle. The feeling of walking yet going nowhere. You had half a mind to scream in frustration.

The lights were blinding, making your already fragile head spin on its axis.

“I need an omega specialist,” you panted. The cold counter felt good against your heated hands. Vernie wormed herself in your grasp, her chilled nose pressing against your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

“I can take you sweetheart,” a soft woman wearing pink scrubs quickly held your arm. Her chocolate eyes scanned up and down nervously, her eyes connected with the receptionist. They spoke to each other without uttering a word. The receptionist quickly getting on the phone. “How long have you been sick, baby?” the nurse asked, leading you down the hall.

“Since my pack left,” you wheezed. Tears were already rolling down your cheek. “It’s really bad tonight,” you explained, using your fists to wipe away the tears Vernie didn't lick away.

“I can tell, baby. I can tell,” she soothed. She led you to a small room, guiding you to an examining chair. “How about I stay with you till the doctor gets here?”

“Please,” you begged.

“How long has your pack been away?” she questioned, pressing a cold towel against your forehead. It just reminded you of Simon, your sobs increasing in volume and intensity.

“I want my pack,” you sobbed, gasping for a breath. You couldn't breathe. No matter how hard you tried it was like the air couldn't reach your lungs.

“Easy,” she tried to soothe. It didn't work. You didn't know her. You needed your pack.

“I want my pack,” you repeated. It was barely a whisper, your words getting caught on a gasp.

You couldn't breathe.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart. Your pack wouldn't want anything to happen to you would they?” she continued, her hands resting on your shoulders.

If they didn't want anything to happen to you they would be back by now. They would've called. They would've had Laswell reach out to you. Something. Anything.

Maybe if you passed out that would get their attention. They would have to notify your alphas right? Just the thought made it easier to breathe- unfortunately. It would've been easier to sleep through everything. Wake up to your alphas and betas fussing over you.

Your lungs accepted the newfound air greedily.

“That’s it,” the nurse smiled softly. Her fingers brushed the wet hair out of your face and she guided you back against the seat. You held Vernie to your chest, her heart rate nearly as fast as yours.

A loud knock echoed throughout the room, the door slowly opening to reveal a doctor. He was a tall, slender man. You were only supposed to have female doctors. His eyes softened when they saw you.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Harrelson. I know in your file it says your alphas requested that you have female doctors, but I'm the only omega specialist on duty this morning,” his voice was soft with a beautiful lilt in it. “How do you feel about that?” he asked softly. You didn't care anymore. It wasn't like your pack really cared either. If they did, they would’ve tried to reach out to you.

“I’m fine with that,” you panted.

“Alright then. Let’s figure out what's going on with you, pup.”

You expected the nickname to throw you back into a spiral, yet, your breathing just steadied further.

Should be your alpha speaking those words to you.

Your stomach turned in bitterness.

“Her pack has been gone. Withdrawals, maybe?” the nurse offered. You were thankful for that, breathing being the priority for you. The doctor nodded his head in agreement, his brows furrowing as he looked you over.

“When did your symptoms start to become extreme?” he asked.

“The past few hours,” you explained.

“Can you describe them to me? Your symptoms.”

“Fever- I get those often though, sweating, heaviness in my body, nausea, dizziness, my heart won't slow down,” you rattled.

“Nausea and rapid heartbeats?” he questioned. He stood on his feet, resting his stethoscope in the center of your chest. “Those aren't usual symptoms of pack withdrawals,” he said slowly. “You are beating quite fast. It‘s been like this for how long?”

“The past hour,” you breathed.

“Have you started any new medication lately?”

“Camilcotazine,” you responded. He shook his head again.

“That wouldn't cause this,” he sighed. “Have you had any injections, piercings, or trackers placed into you recently,”

“I have a tracker but it’s been months since that's been put in,” you explained.

“Well, I'd like to run some tests. I think you may have something in your bloodstream. Maybe you accidently got poked by a rusty nail or something. Are you okay with that?” he asked.

Could you say no?

The initial fear had worn off.

Now you were just fatigued and irate. You didn't bother to ask if anyone was contacting your pack.

Would they even be able to get in touch with them?

If they were, what would your pack do?

Would they send someone back to be with you?

Even in your anger you believed they would.

You could imagine Johnny getting on a helicopter now, a mean snarl on his face at the thought of you going through this alone. You could smell the saltiness that would flow from Kyle at the state of you.

You didn't even want to think about your alphas.

You had more faith in your betas coming to your aid than your alphas.

The thought burned you further.

There was a knock on the door.

“Alright,” Dr. Harrelson sighed. He sat on his stool rolling closer to you. “Are you aware of a tracking device in your leg?”

The room went silent.

Dr. Harrelson’s face scrunched at your reaction.

“It’s very old. My guess would be about 7 to 9 years,” he continued. Not that you could hear him clearly. Your heart thrummed in your ears, your hospital gown clinging to you from how much you were sweating.

“I didn't know,” you replied shakily.

“Well it's an absorbable one- meaning after a few years it should've dissolved into your bloodstream. Yours hasn't. Your body is rejecting it,” he explained, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “We’ll need to remove it immediately. It'll be a small incision, one that likely won't even leave a scar. You won't even need to be put under, just some light anesthetic,”

“That's fine,” you responded immediately. You needed it out. Physically and mentally. You weren't in the corrected headspace to even think about who would do such a thing.

“Let's get started then.”

Hi friends! 👋Hope you enjoyed this next chapter and the first Chapter of section 2!!!! Lots of love and I’ll see you in three days for chapter 36! That's crazy!!!🧡

SERIES MASTERLIST

[mountttmase]

Little Bean

Note - happy Friday, here’s just a tiny something I wrote yesterday after we were talking about pregnancy cravings 🩷 feedback would be appreciated as always 😌

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 986

Warnings - fluff

‘So you want peanut butter and… pickles?’ Mason asked, a questioning tone to his voice as if he thought you were mad but you’d been craving the strange combination all day.

‘Maybe some chocolate chips too? Oh and the really cheap fluffy white bread, none of that 50/50 crap’ you told him.

‘You’re absolutely sure that’s what you want?’

‘It’s not what I want Mase, it’s what our little bean wants’ you told him, your hand falling to your rather large belly. Truth be told your little bean wasn’t so little anymore but it was yours and Mason's first nickname for your baby and it had just stuck so whilst you were still deciding on names the pair of you always referred to them as your little bean.

‘You want a drink or anything else?’

‘You know what I really fancy a vimto’ you told him, watching him shake his head with a laugh before kissing your forehead as he got up.

‘Okay well I won’t be long’

‘Thank you, Mase. I really appreciate you going to get it for me’ you told him sincerely but he was more than happy to do it for you.

‘Well it’s my duty as a dad’ he laughed. ‘You’re giving me a baby, the least I can do is go buy the love of my life some pickles and peanut butter at 11:30 at night’

‘Don’t forget the vimto’ you called as he got closer to the door and the loving smile he sent your way made your heart race.

‘I won’t baby. I’ll be as quick as I can, yeah? Love you’

‘Love you more’ you called, blowing him a quick kiss that he adorably caught, putting it in his pocket before leaving the room.

The small Sainsbury's was only a few minutes away and Mason kept his hat on and head down the whole time he was in there. Laughing to himself as he picked up everything you’d asked for and even getting a multipack of vimto just in case you wanted more tomorrow.

When he’d asked you earlier on if you fancied a snack he was expecting you to say ice cream like you had been for weeks but this new concoction had him stunned and confused. You were giving him the greatest gift he could ever ask for though so as soon as your order was in he was off to get it for you.

The shopping trip went without a hitch and he was home within 15 minutes. Unpacking his little haul before he got to making your special sandwich of peanut butter and pickles with chocolate chips and an ice cold vimto on the side. Nearly gagging as he placed it all together on the plate but if that’s what you wanted then that’s what you were getting.

You were sat up and waiting for him when he returned to your room, eyes lighting up and the sight of him and your heart thumped at the way he presented you your creation with a proud smile on his face.

‘Thank you, Mase. I really do appreciate you’ you told him. Kissing his cheek quickly as you took the plate from his hands and as soon as he set your glass on your bedside table he was undressing himself and getting back into bed next to you.

He watched on in what would only be described as fascination and slight horror as you took your first bite. Thinking maybe it had been a joke this whole time but there you were, eyes rolling back in your head as you munched away and as much as mason wanted to ask how it was he didn’t want to disturb your moment.

‘God that hits the spot. It's better than I thought it would be’ you told him after your second bite, looking over to him to find him trying to hold back a laugh. ‘You know what? The chocolate chips really set it off, I’m a genius I swear’

‘Yes you are baby’ he laughed, kissing your shoulder before he started to shuffle down and lay next to you.

‘You want a bite?’

‘You know what, I’ve got training early so I best not’ he told you, but you knew it was just an excuse. ‘Maybe tomorrow’

‘I’ll have one waiting for you when you get home’ you joked, watching his face scrunch up in disgust causing you to laugh loudly.

‘Can’t wait’ he chuckled, settling himself down next to you. ‘You gonna be able to sleep after all that sugar?’

‘I’m six months pregnant Mase, of course I’ll sleep’ you told him. Reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, your heart racing as his snuggled into your thigh and wrapped his arm around your leg. ‘Just let me finish and we can cuddle’

‘Fine but I wanna be the big spoon. Not sure I want pickle peanut butter breath in my face all night’

‘I’m gonna clean my teeth you big baby’

‘Doesn’t matter how much you clean them, I’ll still know’ he teased and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

‘You’re insane’

‘Says the one eating something i could find in a bin’

‘Hey, stop being mean’ you laughed. Polishing off the last of your sandwich as he kissed your thigh as an apology. ‘I’ll be back in a sec yeah?’

‘You want a hand up?’ He offered sweetly but you just shook your head and stroked his hair.

‘I’m good, thank you though’ you laughed. Getting yourself out of bed to clean your teeth but you stopped as you got to the door so you could look back at Mason all curled up in bed waiting for you. You heart thumping at the sweet man you got to call your own with tonight only confirming to you once again he would be the only man you’d ever need.

[mydearesthrry]

hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘

wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)

cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig

summary: sundays with harry <3

A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.

About anything, really.

“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”

“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”

“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”

Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.

“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”

“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”

Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.

“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.

“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.

“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.

“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.

“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.

“So… do you?”

“Yep, just put them on m’market.”

“And that, is why I love you.”

—

“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.

“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.

“I-“ He started.

“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”

“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“Can y’braid m’hair?”

“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?

“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”

A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”

—

“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.

“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.

“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”

“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.

“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.

“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”

“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.

“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.

Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”

He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.

“Y’fucking bitch.”

“Twat.”

[applesaucesims]

One afternoon, when Louis and Dayton were hanging out together in Louis's room, they could barely focus on their games, with the ruckus happening in the room next door. Curious about what was happening, the two of them sneaked down the hallway, where they found the girls' door wide open.

Inside, there was a chest surrounded by all kinds of clothing items, with the girls stood next to it. They were wearing funny hats and dresses to make them look like princesses, and had even attempted putting on their mother's makeup for a more convincing look. However, there was not playing going on. Instead, Ruby and Dorothy were arguing about which of them would be the princess in their game, as apparently there was only room for one. Of course, it could not be a proper fairy tale without the evil stepsister.

Dorothy insisted that she would get to be the princess, since she was the first to say so, but Ruby hated the idea of even just pretending to be evil. Louis knew it was time for him to step in as a big brother and figure out a way to diffuse the argument. Otherwise, they would never actually end up playing their game. He looked around the room, until his eyes rested on the costume chest.

There were more than enough costumes and accessories for all of them to dress up, which meant that the girls could easily both be a princess in this case. Louis would just have to be the stepsister in this case, the answer seemed pretty obvious to him.

The twins jumped excitedly at the idea that they would get to dress up their brother, and the two girls got to work on it quickly. Soon, Louis was sat on the chest in a barely fitting baby blue dress and a matching bonnet, while Dorothy painted his face with lots and lots of makeup. He actually did not mind it, in fact, he almost felt pretty, although he knew his sister was not the most skilled at what she was doing.

Even Dayton, who had simply thrown on a scarf as a makeshift cape and a paper crown, had to admit that the outcome was quite convincing. Had he not known any better, he could have thought Louis was a lost third McGregor sister. Speaking of whom, Dayton put on his smoothest prince voice to flatter the twin girls as best as he could. If he was going to be their prince, he was going to try his best at it, too.

With no music player in the room, the four children made up their own ballroom songs, as they danced around laughing. Dayton even took upon the role of announcing the next dance that would be coming up each time, while the other three came up with songs matching the increasingly absurd themes.

They kept playing for a while, until all of them were too tired to continue, and Dayton had to go home. All arguments were soon forgotten about, but it sure was a princess ball to remember.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Dorothy: "No, we can't both be the princess!"

Dayton: "Sounds like they're in a bit of a pickle, eh?"

Louis: "Let's see what's going on!"

Dorothy: "One of us has to be the evil stepsister!"

Ruby: "But I don't want to be evil, Dottie."

Dorothy: "Well, I chose first!"

*Louis clears throat*

Louis: "Hey, girls! What's the issue?"

Dorothy: "We're playing fairy tale princess ball. But stupid Ruby doesn't wanna be the evil stepsister!"

Dayton: "What's with the bear?"

Dorothy: "Why, that's the beautiful prince, of course!"

Dayton: "Naturally."

Louis: "Hmmm... Maybe I have an idea how we can fix this."

...

Louis: "Are you finished?"

Dorothy: "Hush, art cannot be rushed."

Dorothy: "Aaaand... done!"

Louis: "So? How do I look?"

Dorothy: "You look lovely!"

Dayton: "More like you're ready to meet the wonderful wizard of Oz!"

Louis: "Is it bad?"

Dayton: "I don't know. Dorothy's pretty, too, no? You could make a pretty girl. You know, if your dress actually fit."

Louis: "Oh, thank you, your maaaajesty!"

Dayton: *flutters eyelashes* "Of course, not as pretty as the beautiful princesses I'm meant to meet tonight at the royal ball!"

Ruby & Dorothy: *giggling*

...

*singing incoherently*

[thescarletnargacuga]

Okay so like I know you don’t do art but like could we have a short fic of Raceway Pomni trying to eat a burger in piece while literally everyone interrupts her?

I am slightly obsessed over your raceway au….

A/N: I have actual tears in my eyes. You're the very first person to submit an ask about Raceway! You have no idea what this means to me. A part of me was starting to think that Raceway was too boring to be engaging... Thank you

BURGER

A RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

AU by yours truly

WARNING: NONE

~~~

Pomni stood in front of the dining room table in the racer's garage. Hands in her hips she calls for the bubble chef. "Hey, could I get a burger?"

A bubble assistant wearing a chef hat appeared. "Why, yes you can!" A single beef patty materialized and plopped onto the table.

Pomni gives the bubble a deadpan glare. "I would like more than just the burger patty. Please."

"You'll have to be specific." Bubble said with a toothy smile.

"Fine. Lettuce, onion, pickle, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, cheese. That specific enough for you?"

The listed condiments piled onto the burger patty unceremoniously. Pomni facepalmed. "The bun, bubble. The bun."

"Well, why didn't you say-"

"JUST GiVE ME THE [%$!#] BUN!" Pomni snapped.

"Yeesh, someone's hangry."

A bun popped into existence, sandwiching the pile of burger together neatly. Pomni grumbled to herself as she took her burger towards the lounge to eat in comfort. "Annoying little- you know what you're doing. Wasting my burger time. How dare."

The door to Gummigoo's room on the second floor loft flew open, startling Pomni. She looked up to see the gummy gator covered in marker and absolutely fuming. He stormed to Jax's room and pounded the door. "I know you're in there you sugar snorting son of a glitch!"

Pomni heard a sniggering voice from the kart line behind her. "Hehe...no, I'm not."

Gummigoo heard and turned to glare over the railing and down to Jax relaxing in his kart seat. "Stop coming into my room and drawing on my face!! So you know how hard this is to remove!?"

"Uh, yeah. It's called permanent marker for a reason." Jax smirked. "Of course, if you'd rather do something else when I visit... I'm open to suggestions." He winked.

Gummigoo's face flushed and he snorted. "You think you're funny!?"

"And fabulous." Jax taunted.

"Oh my GOD would you two get a room!?" Zooble loudly complained from her favorite pinball machine in the lounge.

"Gummigoo said I could have his." Jax grinned, enjoying every second Gummigoo was flustered. He was too easy to mess with.

"YOU WISH!!" Gummigoo shouted, blushing beyond belief.

Pomni did her best to ignore the shouting and had a seat in one of the plush recliners. She opened her mouth to have a bite when she felt something crawling up her back. She jumped out of the chair and brushed herself off in a ick-ed out panic. A bead necklace looking bug, fell off to the floor. "Ugh...KINGER! I FOUND MELISSA!"

"Oh, yay!" Kinger popped up from behind the pool table. "She's been missing all morning. Thank you, Pomni." There was a smile in his eyes as he collected his favorite insect.

Pomni sat back down in a huff and tried to eat. A piece of paper blocked her mouth from touching the burger.

"Look what I drew you!" Gangle proclaimed, holding the art directly in Pomni's face.

Pomni tasted the crayon and spluttered. "Bleh- um...thanks." It was a rather nice drawing of her. She took it and gave Gangle a small smile. Gangle skipped away happily over to Zooble to watch them play pinball.

Pomni looked both ways and behind her to see if anyone else was going to interrupt her meal. Satisfied that everyone else in the garage was busy doing something else, she went in for a bite.

"Pomni!" Ragatha called as she rushed over.

Pomni squeezed her burger so tight, it almost fell apart. "What??"

"I have such an exciting thing to tell you! Caine confirmed that Loo will be integrated into every track from today onward because he saw how happy she made me!! Caine is finally taking a hint, ha! Things are actually improving around here!" Ragatha stomped her feet excitedly.

"That's great." Pomni said flatly. It was not burger-interruption worthy news.

"Isn't it!?" Ragatha giddily continued, oblivious to Pomni's silent annoyance. "I could see Loo every day!"

"No one cares about your candy flavored girlfriend, dollface!" Jax heckled.

"Like you're one to talk!" Ragatha snapped back.

"It's not like that, it's just hilarious how angry he gets." Jax looked away.

"I highly doubt that! You tick people off all the time, but he's the only one you openly flirt with and then call it teasing to cover your tracks." Ragatha put her hands on her hips with a satisfied smirk as she watched Jax's face flush a bit.

"Watch it , rags! Or you'll find Carl on your pillow tonight!" Jax growled.

"YOU PUT THAT CENTIPEDE ANYWHERE NEAR ME, I SWEAR-!"

Pomni shot up out of her seat and stormed out of the garage. Enough of this. Enough of everyone. She wants to eat her goddamn burger in peace. She crossed the lawn to the default track. It was a quiet, breezy day. Very peaceful. Artificial wind blew through the grassy indefinite hills, creating shiny waves of green.

She crosses the track to the empty audience stands and throws herself into the first available open seat. Pomni was alone, just her and the refreshing digital day outside. She took a calming breath and went to eat.

"Hello, my dear!" Caine popped into existence next to her.

"AAH-!! WHAT-!?" Pomni tossed her burger. It splattered on the ground in front of the stands.

"Nice day for an outdoor lunch?" Caine raised a brow, confused as to why she just threw her food.

"I wouldn't know." Pomni said, defeated.

"I'm glad you're not busy, because there's something I've been wanting to ask-"

"Race me." Pomni needed to get her frustration out somehow. The track was calling to her raging spirit.

"What?" Caine gasped.

"You heard me. Everyone wants to talk to me so bad, to the point that I literally lose my lunch! You know what, you want my attention? Earn it."

Her intense look gave Caine chills. She was always beautiful to him, but especially when she was fired up. He snapped his fingers and their karts appeared at the start line of the track. "After you."

Pomni marches from her seat to her kart. Caine flew over, his kart starting on its own when he took his seat. The start line comes alive, lighting up with colorful displays. Engines rev as Bubble appears to do the honors of the start lights. "Racers ready?"

Caine and Pomni look at each other with determined smirks and nod.

Bubble stuck out their tongue, the starting light hanging from it.

First light...

Pomni gripped the steering wheel tight.

Second light...

Another rev for good measure, the roar of the engine exciting her.

Third light...

She catches Caine's glance again at the last second and kisses at him.

GREEN!!

Caine is completely caught off guard and bungles his start. Pomni takes off laughing. He shifts gears with a grin. "God, I love her." He puts the pedal to the floor, his tires scream and golden flames fly out of the tailpipes as he rockets after her.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 2/42

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

                “What is your name?”

                “Bradley Bradshaw.”

                Leandro blinks at him and he’s not sure if it’s the name or if they simply sound too similar to one another.

                “Hmm. I will call you Lee… like Leonardo. You like pizza too much. And you are American like turtles…”

                “Do you want me to wear an orange bandana while I’m at it?” Bradley jokes.

                Leandro laughs and pats his face.

                “Silly boy. Leonardo wears blue. Michaelangelo wears orange.”

…            …            …

2016

                Filming has wrapped for the morning and he finally gets to walk around without a crew trailing his every step. They’re still taking shots, but they’re not filming him, which he is supremely grateful for because he wants to go back and actually do some proper shopping, not just the stuff for cooking later, but items he saw in passing and knew he wanted to go back and get. He has time. It’s a proper farmers market, there are even livestock for sale off to the side, although he’s been told that’s not every week, more like once a month. He walks without any direction, there are different avenues set up, some with raw produce, meats, baking, candles, soaps, art works and carved pieces of wood. Another with preserves and pickles, little wafers to the side so people can taste them. He takes his time and tries everything he can, loves places like this, everything so fresh and everyone so friendly. Even if they know who he is.

                He’d never imagined that his life would take this many twists any turns, that he’s now a celebrity chef, one everyone considers self-taught, despite the fact he insists that Leandro and Silvia taught him, along with the whole extended Gallo family and their friends. He’s got fifteen years of experience now, the last seven though being the wildest. He’d been spotted in the background of the show with the British celebrity. Sought out and asked if he’d do a little cooking segment, then they’d found out he could do it in multiple languages. He’d been popular. More popular than anyone had anticipated and then he’d been asked to do a longer running show.

                In amongst it all he’d ended up with an agent and a manager. Leandro and Silvia had sat him down and made him plan things out, made him call Ice and tell him. He still hasn’t spoken to Mav, and he knows he’s maybe being immature and holding a grudge but Mav hasn’t ever reached out himself, or apologized or, even better, explained. So, it is radio silence there and he knows that Ice is likely keeping Mav updated with his goings-on, but he is okay with that as long as Ice doesn’t push him to forgive him.

                He’s stepping back from a stall, thanking them when he bumps into someone, apology already on his lips when the other person is also apologizing.

                “No, my fault. Sorry.”

                “Both our faults then,” the man says, and he’s tilting a cowboy hat back and he’s got a fucking toothpick sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He’s also wearing a sinfully tight white t-shirt and tight jeans, which are either old and worn, or just doing a poor job at containing some very nice-looking thighs. Bradley licks his lips. There are other appetites he hasn’t indulged in a while either.

                “You from around here?”

                “Uh. No. Just here for work…” Bradley says, and he can see the guy trying to place him, figure out why he recognizes him. It’s happening more and more often now, people recognizing him in the street and out of context.

                “What’s your name?”

                “Um. Bradley Bradshaw.”

                He’s waiting for the flare of recognition at the name, but there’s nothing and it’s kind of a relief. He’s not quite that famous, not a household name quite yet although the marketing team are definitely working their hardest. He looks at the guys face again does a double take, there’s something about him though which is casting him back nearly a decade, he looks so familiar and the way he’s smiling…

                “And your name?”

                “Jake. Jake Seresin.”

                That is a hell of a coincidence. For him to also be called Jake. And Texan. He remembers the accent. Bradley imagines him nearly ten years younger, a buzz cut and baby faced…

                “You remind me of someone. You ever been to Italy?”

                It’s Jake’s turn to pull back, eyebrow raised and the toothpick does a little twist in and out of his mouth with his tongue and it’s kind of distracting but there is a slow roaming of his face, like he’s looking at Bradley the same way.

                “Yeah. I have. Why?”

                “2008?”

                Jake is frowning now, clearly trying to remember what year it was, but Bradley is more and more sure the longer he looks his fill. This is his Cinderella… the one he’d always jokingly said had got away even though he hadn’t expected anything else that night.

                “Yeah… my first time there…”

…            …            …

                Jake steps back, raises his hand to cover the bottom half of the other man’s face, because the guy didn’t have a moustache, and there’s only one guy, one man, that could be asking. The night in question is seared in his mind, his first taste of freedom, his first kiss with a guy and also the overwhelming fear of doing anything more than kiss. And apparently, he’s grown a moustache and changed his name. Only one way to find out.

                “Leo?”

                “Yeah. Hi.”

                “Holy shit… Oh. You grew up good.”

                “So did you,” Leo (or is it Bradley?) replies, and his eyes show he’s clearly appreciative of how Jake looks. He’d liked Jake plenty all those years ago too. He also looks good, firm muscle and nice looking forearms and they’re both clearly checking each other out and there’s a little thrill fizzing through him because there isn’t any second-guessing his interest, no fear of getting punched for looking at him the wrong way.

                “This is a coincidence and a half. You here looking for me?” Jake asks, knows it’s unlikely but he’s still going to ask. Like he’s worth being hunted down across the world. Leo-Bradley throws back his head and laughs, looks at him and gives him another once over and Jake tries not to preen too much.

                “No. Not unhappy that I bumped into you though.”

                “Hmm,” Jake hums, lips and teeth continuing to play with the toothpick and Bradley’s eyes track the movement. “Neither am I. Although, can I ask why you’re using a fake name?” Leo-Bradley blinks, maybe confused and Jake isn’t an idiot. “Bradley Bradshaw? Really? Trying to sound more American?”

                “Well, you can call me Leo, but I am American and Bradley Bradshaw is the name on my birth certificate.”

                “No shit. Really?”

                “Yeah. Really.”

                “American. Huh. You had me fooled…” Jake murmurs, because he may have been trying to learn Italian for the last few years because of this man. Maybe. Definitely a contributing factor anyway.

                “I did live there for nearly a decade if it’s any consolation. Just travel quite a bit now. What are you doing here? Work?”

                “Yeah, my sisters are working me into the ground even though I’m on leave. But it’s nice being out in the wide-open space.”

                “I bet. What are you on leave from?”

                “I’m a naval aviator. What do you do?”

                Leo’s mouth drops open, but Jake has gotten used to telling the difference between someone being impressed and someone just being surprised. Leo is definitely more surprised than impressed though, his head shaking but he’s still standing close enough that Jake can feel the heat of his body.

                “What’s that look for? You got something against naval aviators all of a sudden?”

                The laugh that Leo lets out is pitched a little too high and Jake quirks an eyebrow up.

                “I don’t have a problem with it. I just… Shit. Small world I guess. My dad was a RIO in the Navy.”

                “Yeah? What does he do now?”

                “Uh. He died. When I was a kid.”

                “Oh shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to put my foot in it,” Jake says, pulling a face.

                “It’s okay. You didn’t know. But just a heads up that my mom is dead too, so, maybe don’t ask about her either.”

                “Well. Thanks for the heads up. What is a safe topic of conversation?” Leo smirks and Jake lets out a bright laugh, the message received loud and clear, if the body language wasn’t all telling him the same thing. “So… What do you do for a job then?”

                Leo blinks at him, like he’s not used to such a run of the mill question.

                “I’m a chef.”

                “Cool. Then I look forward to you feeding me…”

                “Oh yeah, I think I can definitely manage that.”

                “Think you can manage a lot more than that.”

                “I’d like to give it a try…”

                “Hmm. Me too.”

THREE

[muridae3]

Birthday Surprises | Harvey x GN!Farmer

The farmer prepares for Harvey's birthday, hoping to give him something that he will love. Only one problem: He is impossible to shop for.

The farmer had absolutely no idea what to do for Harvey’s birthday. 

He was impossible to buy for. Although had plenty of favorite things (Coffee, pickles, or the occasional bottle of wine), he deserved something much more special. 

“I love the guy…” Maru sighed, tired after an hour of fruitless brainstorming, “but he is…”

“Impossible to buy for.” The farmer groaned, resting their forehead on the desk. “I got him a model plane for The Feast of the Winter Star, so I can’t do that…”

“Why’d you wait so long to get him a birthday gift?” Maru asked.

The farmer sighed, embarrassed. “Time got away from me, I guess. I was so focused on my pumpkin crop, I barely noticed winter growing closer. Then, when the snow hit, I decided to fix up the wear and tear on my farm, then go to Zuzu city while he was at the clinic… then… that didn’t happen.”

“Maybe… maybe he doesn’t need a physical gift.” Maru suggested. “A party, maybe?”

“No.” The farmer laughed. “You know how he is at social gatherings. A private picnic?”

“No. Too cold. Dinner at the saloon?” 

“No, everyone would be swarming him with well wishes…” The farmer shook their head. 

“How about,” Maru tapped her chin, still deep in thought, “you surprise him with a night in? Cook his favorite meal, watch a movie, open a bottle of wine.”

The farmer’s eyes lit up. “That’s an amazing idea! How did I not think of that?” 

Maru shrugged. “I’m intuitive like that, I guess. You have a couple days to prepare— get over to Pierre’s and get what you need. I’ll keep the doc here.”  

“Thanks, Maru. I owe you.” The farmer smiled gratefully before leaving the clinic, rushing next door to get groceries.

The farmer ensured that Harvey’s birthday was full of rest and relaxation. At their urging, he had spent nearly all day in his atelier, piecing together his latest model plane and listening to his favorite jazz album. 

Meanwhile, the farmer had been working diligently in the kitchen. Harvey was the usual cook, but the super meals hadn’t turned out half bad. The farmer had used the nicest place setting from their grandfather’s china cabinet, and candles gave the table a romantic touch. Going down to the cellar, they found the final piece of the meal: a bottle of starfruit wine they had been saving for a special occasion. After all, what was more special than their beloved’s birthday?

They just hoped it was enough.

Harvey often downplayed just how important he was to them– he would always say that he was ‘self-sufficient’ and that the farmer didn’t need to worry about them.

But they did– almost as much as he worried about the farmer.

They just wanted him to know how much he was loved.

Just as they filled Harvey’s glass, pondering these thoughts, the farmer heard a gasp. Looking up, they saw that Harvey had entered the kitchen. “Oh! You weren’t supposed to come in yet! I was just about to come get you!”

“Did you…” Harvey choked. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Oh, Harvey…” The farmer set down the bottle of wine. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday, and you deserve to be celebrated.”

Harvey looked as if he was about to cry. Then a tear spilled down his cheek. “This is too much, you really didn’t have to–”

“But you haven’t even seen the best part yet!” They turned around, digging through the cabinet for a moment before removing two green party hats. “I got hats!” 

Harvey smiled. “I love them.” 

“Here you go, birthday boy.” The farmer set the hat on his head.

Harvey took the farmer’s own hat and secured it to their head. “There. Now we’re both festive.”

The farmer pulled Harvey’s chair out for him, and he sat. “Really, you didn’t have to do all this for me…”

“Pish posh, Doc.” The farmer said. “I’m your spouse. It’s the least I can do for the man I love.”

Hours later, after dinner had been eaten and copious amounts of wine had been drunk, Harvey and the farmer were sitting on the couch, watching the end credits of a Christmas movie.

“This…” Harvey started, clearing his throat. “This is the best birthday I’ve had in… a long time.”

“You think so?” The farmer asked, leaning on his shoulder. “I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

“It’s exactly what I wanted. A night in with my best friend, cheesy Christmas movies, and wine. What else could a guy like me want?”

“I dunno.” They mumbled, closing their eyes, realizing that they had accomplished their goal: Harvey felt loved. He felt seen. 

Harvey kissed the top of their head. “I love you, dear.”

“I love you too, Harv.” They mumbled, finally surrendering to the clutches of sleep. 

[venomwrites]

Warnings for violence, character death, sadness. Also on Ao3

It takes weeks for their first resupply.

The airship is well stocked. Too well stocked, if Vi thinks about it. It’s a week before she realizes this was someone’s escape. She spends the next days torturing herself with who they could have been, what their faces could have looked like when they realized their ticket out had been punched. Did they see them flying away? Were they able to get out? But then Jinx mumbles that she’s hungry and the torturous thoughts shift back to the reason she’s here. She promised Jinx that they could go. Jinx didn’t want to help but she was willing to shuffle out of the bunker with her. All of the guards had been shifted to the gates. But their luck seemed to hold all the way to the Airship docks. It held as they got onto the ship. It was already started, already humming like it was waiting for them. It wasn’t, it was waiting for someone else but Jinx shuffled forward and so Vi took it. She’d been pick pocketing for weeks before Jinx got her, but this is a huge job. Her hands shook as she cast off the rope and her side ached as she scrambled onto the ship. But Jinx pointed to a button and she thumbed it and the job was done. Full gas, full supplies, the beds were maid with fresh linens. She and Jinx curled up in the smallest one, limbs locking together like they were kids again.

For weeks they just drift where the wind takes them. 

Half the time they don’t even put the engines on. Their destination is ‘away’. So they drift and conserve fuel. Jinx just stares away mostly, barely even having the energy to speak. Shifting back into taking care of her is like breathing. Vi combs and braids her hair. She boils the fresh food into stews and forces it through strainers turning it into something finer. Some she stores away. Some she guides through her sister’s lips on the days when Jinx can’t bring herself to eat. She remembers how to make brine and pickle vegetables. Soon one of the pantries is full of jars that will last them long after the fresh food is supposed to rot. She sorts through the contents of the ship and creates piles of things they can sell. During that process she finds a box that is so stuffed with credits she claps it shut and looks for witnesses. There are none. It’s just her and Jinx on this airship and Jinx is in the wheelhouse with the windows slitted open. Vi doesn’t let her on the deck unsupervised right now. Jinx doesn’t fight her.

Eventually though they do need gas. 

By that time Jinx is a bit more alive, but not by much. So Vi coils her hair under a cap and puts her in some of the clothing left for the servants. She pulls on some of the clothing left for the family. She knows they might be looking for her so she chooses a dress instead of pants and finds the cosmetics laid out for the woman. She pains her face and puts on a hat with a little veil that helps hide her scars. When she tests the undergarments they fit oddly well and she thanks whoever is listening their luck is holding. She pulls on the dress and stockings and fawn colored cape. When she comes out Jinx looks at her quietly for a moment and Vi rolls her eyes to let her know she’s aware of how foolish she looks.

“Next time you can be the lady if you’re up for it,” she says.

Jinx doesn’t reply. 

Vi gets the airship parked following Jinx’s quiet points. She ties it off and goes to speak to the man in charge of the dock. He’s a stout, old man who straightens up when he mistakes her for a lady. Her heart aches at how much he reminds her of Benzo. She hopes he made a good welcome for Dad. The idea of them together in the afterlife always felt nice. Now she knows it’s a reality. Finally. She swallows down the lump the thought brings and focuses on the man. 

“We need gas,” she says, “water,” she pretends to consider, “somewhere to restock our food,” the man is still staring at her and Vi wonders if they’re going to have to run. They have enough to get somewhere new, but it’ll be close, “sir?”

“Apologies, ma’m,” he says, blinking back to life, “forgive my rudeness, we just didn’t think anyone made it out.”

The adrenaline doesn’t dissipate now that she know she hasn’t been caught. If anything it gets worse. The man softens and comes around the counter. He hesitates a moment before he embraces her tightly. 

“There’s still hope then.”

“Did you have family there?” She tries and he shakes his head. 

“No, thank the Gods. But friends do.”

“We left before it happened,” she says, “we ran.”

The word comes out unexpectedly choked. 

“None of that,” he says, handing her a handkerchief, “if you’d have stayed you’d be like the rest of them. That’s not a fate I’d wish on my worst enemy,” his eyes move to Jinx and his face softens. He scribbles something on a pad and hands the paper to her, “take this to Marcello’s shop. He’ll have supplies for you. I’ll get you refueled. Will your servant stay?”

“No, she’ll come with me,” Vi says, “she’s recovering.”

The man nods.

“I’ll see to it personally,” he says. Vi nods and moves towards the door. The man hesitates and then calls after her, “you’ve got a good heart, ma’m,” he says, “thanks to the Gods it still beats.”

Vi blinks away the sting in her eye and steers Jinx into town. The man calls ahead because when they get there a cart is waiting with boxes of food. It’s more food than Vi has seen in one place in a long time. It looks like their own personal market. It makes her think of the Kiramman pantry. But she shoves the memory away. She needs the tears but they have to be fake. Jinx picks up the handle of the cart as she pays for their supplies. They undercharge her criminally for them and wish her well. The boxes are loaded onto the ship and their gauges all read full before Vi finally can swallow the question back no longer. 

“I’m sorry, can you tell me any rumors about Zaun?” She asks, “for my servant?”

The man’s face falls but he nods and pulls her to the side. Vi positions herself so she can keep an eye on Jinx, but she’s picking through the fruit. 

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news,” he says, “the last party said Zaun fell to it right after,” he twists his hands together, “the straight’s fallen. Bilgewater’s gone, Ixal will be next.”

Vi wants to demand answers but knows she can’t without compromising her cover. His voice turns urgent.

“I’d keep floating,” he says, “high as you can. They’re not in the sky yet. If you see them, turn everything off. They don’t want your stuff, they just want your mind.”

“We left before we could see them, do you know what they look like?”

“White and gold,” he says, “lock your servant up if you see them. They aren’t who they used to be.”

Vi thinks she might be sick. 

“They belong to the Herald now.”

Those two sentences haunt her as she puts them back in the sky. Jinx is tearing into the flesh of some pulpy fruit. Seeds of another are collected in a little bowl. It’s a good thing she’s eating, but all Vi can do is twist the words in her head. They aren’t who they used to be, they belong to the Herald now. She pulls out one of the maps and lays it on the table. She takes one of the seeds out and puts them near the outpost they just re-supplied at. They’re moving away towards the sea. She picks up a pencil and circles the straight between Piltover, Zaun and Bilgewater. Her plan was for them to drift more, but now there’s places they cannot go. They’ll need to use more gas which means more resupplies. If this is spreading across the continents, then they need to start making their way somewhere else. It could buy them some time. 

“Will this thing make it to Ionia?” She asks Jinx. The fruit has helped her perk up a bit. She glances around and shrugs, “best guess.”

“Probably,” Jinx says, “if the weather holds,” she leans forward over the map. A drop of juice lands on Piltover but Vi doesn’t even think to scold her. Piltover’s gone, “we might need to supply here.”

“He said that’s gone,” Vi says.

“So no guards.”

Vi smiles but she hopes they don’t have to resupply there. 

She hopes the weather holds. 

That night she dreams of Caitlyn again. She’s wide-eyed and terrified, yelling Vi’s name over and over. She hovers over her like she had for months before. Though this time Vi knows she’s there. Her fingers are painful on Vi’s wound as she shoves the lacy cravat against it to try and staunch the bleeding. All Vi can do is try to make eye contact as the world pulls away. Regret churns in her gut for how she shoved Caitlyn to the side to stagger after Jinx. How Caitlyn shouted at her not to but Vi pushed forward anyway. Jinx is the most important thing. She always has been. All Vi can do is hear Vander’s plea even as he roars and flings lava everywhere. She thought his first death was horrible but she’d give anything for him to be laying on the ground twisting with Shimmer. She left Powder then, she’s not making the same mistake. 

She’d rather die. 

She nearly does. 

It’s worth it. But her under arm feels painfully cold with Caitlyn’s absence and her hands sting from pushing her away. 

In the dream Caitlyn’s scream turns distorted. Her face freezes and cracks and turns white. White and gold, like he said. Behind her she sees a figure whose unnaturally long hand is buried in Caitlyn’s scalp. Her inky hair turns into a web of gold that makes Vi think of her stupid beret. The grip she has on Vi’s wound turns agonizing as her fingers push through Vi’s flesh. She opens her mouth to yell but only blood comes out as Caitlyn’s fingers  part her flesh and bump against her spine. Caitlyn’s features are lost to the white that takes over her skin, but a tear still falls from where her eyes used to be and trails to join the blood Vi coughs onto her face. It all drips back onto Vi’s cheek as the white thing that was Caitlyn leans closer in a mockery of their first kiss. 

Vi wakes with a yell.

She looks over but the bed is empty. The ship lurches horribly. One glance tells her they are caught in a storm. Vi scrambles to her feet and grabs the handholds in the wall. The ship is full of clever details like that. There’s another tilt and she holds on tighter, digging in her heel. The thick carpet in the hall strains and shifts before it gives way. Vi looks down to see glue on the edge. More glue is revealed as more of the carpet pulls back. Vi glares at the loss of her foothold and the cheapness of the job. She’s shocked it’s held up for months and infuriated it chose now to give up. The ship thankfully rocks back to center. Vi scrambles forward past the bunched carpet. She nearly falls on the most bunched part and yells in frustration, ripping it the rest of the way off and rolling it towards the other wall. If they need to run down the hallway she doesn’t want either of them wiping out on it. 

“Fucking Pilties,” she mutters when she realizes there’s another carpet underneath. 

She rips the top one off from the other side and shoves it into one of the other rooms. It’s minutes she wishes she didn’t have to waste but she knows it’s time well spent. She runs up to the wheelhouse to see Jinx gripping the steering wheel. Her face is serious and her fingers are dexterous. Vi realizes she’s taken them down and is finding a place for them to land. She opens her mouth to protest but Jinx shakes her head and flicks a few switches. The ship drops like an elevator. Gears and mechanism whir as they drop through the sky and then gently lower onto a wide stone balcony. They nestle close to the doors so if anything hits like lightening, it’ll hit the giant house first. 

“Where are we?”

“Dunno,” Jinx says, “I hit the emergency landing and the ship went on autopilot horizontally. I was just controlling the vertical.”

“Weird,” Vi says, “you think anyone’s home?”

Jinx looks and shakes her head. For the first time Vi sees something like worry on her face. Immediately she puts her hand on her shoulder. 

“You wanna be the lady this time in case we have to explain?”

Jinx shakes her head.

They change back into their disguises quickly, but no-one comes. Something feels wrong in a new way. Her fingers itch for her Gauntlets. But the pistol will have to suffice. Vi makes her way back to their room. Past the wheelhouse, back down the stupid hallway with it’s double carpet. She just hopes whoever’s lawn they’ve landed on doesn’t come before she gets the weapon. She keeps it hidden from Jinx but if push comes to shove, she’ll have to ask her to get it. But no-one comes as she gets to the steps leading down the hallway. She has to take them slower when her feet are in the stupid stockings but it’s better than running in the blocky shoes. That slowness means for the first time the second carpet registers. 

For the second time the handholds are the only thing keeping her upright. 

The keys are crossed and stamped at neat intervals along the dark blue fabric. Not the new ones with the Noxus gem, these are the old ones that were littered around the Kiramman house. As her eyes take them in, it feels like someone has put a key into her brain. She can feel every pin shifting into place. The lack of guards, the abundance of supplies, the pile of money. She looks down at the garments she’s wearing. The clothes fit her. Pistol forgotten, Vi races back along the route to the fancy bedroom. The one where all the lady’s stuff is. She’s been sewing her entire life. She turns one of the blouses inside out and sees the hastily shifted seam. Another coat has an extra button still tacked onto the corner. Dread pounds through Vi as throws the new clothing aside and flings back the cover of the bed. 

She would know those sheets anywhere. 

Her knees smack the ground as she stares at them. The thoughts of the family this ship was meant for vanish. Instead she sees Caitlyn signing documents while she’s unconscious in the background. She sees her pushing money into a box she knows Vi will find and handing Vi’s measurements to someone to get clothes that will fit. Three days. She had three days and she did all of this knowing Ambessa was coming for her. And what had VI done? Yelled at her. Even when Caitlyn told her Jinx surrendered, that she kept her safe. Even when she looked at her with that anguish on her face. None of it had registered. Caitlyn hadn’t just put Jinx in the bunker in her own house, she had cleared the way for them. She gave them everything they needed to get away. Vi lurches to her feet again and runs to the other wardrobe. The clothes in there are cut slimmer. There’s a brush and hair ties. For a moment Vi feels hope but then she sees how short the pants are. How they are faintly patterned. 

Caitlyn never planned on coming with them. 

The realization crashes into Vi as the fabric falls from her hands. Caitlyn set this up, she put her own sheets on the bed and arranged for all of this so Vi and Jinx could get away. Caitlyn who threw away all of her plans for the slim chance Vi could get more time with her father. Who put Vi in her bed, the only place Vi can remember feeling truly safe. She did all of that and Vi yelled at her. Vi left her. She wanted Vi to leave her. Vi feels an itch in her mind. Caitlyn wanted her gone, but that makes no sense. The battle was weeks out. Vi could have been healed and ready to fight in that time. Vi would have fought, especially with Jinx in the bunker. But even if she hadn’t been, Vi would have fought. It was what she did best. There has to be a reason for this. Something she’s missing. There wouldn’t just be nothing. She grabs the small pull on the first drawer of the nightstand and starts to look for a note. 

She doesn’t find one.

She finds so much though. Papers with her and Jinx’s pictures but different names. There’s a case with orange tinted glasses that will hide Jinx’s eyes. A box full of thick cotton wraps for her hands. Her red jacket is in one of the closets. She finds her  old necklace nestled among a truly nauseating amount of sapphires and diamonds. She finds her old Enforcer badge, back in it’s case. But nothing with Caitlyn’s handwriting. Nothing that tells her why she did this. She scrubs her face and thumbs through the books again to see if something’s hidden there. Nothing. There’s nothing. The only scrap of Caitlyn’s handwriting are the forged signatures on the documents and that’s not what she wants. That’s not Caitlyn. That’s Caitlyn pretending to be her. 

“Vi?” Jinx’s voice is tentative at the door.

“Did she say anything to you?” Vi asks and the desperation in her voice makes both of them jump. Jinx shifts back and looks heartbreakingly like Powder for a moment, “sorry,” Vi says quickly, “when I was out did she say anything to you?”

“Who?” Jinx asks quietly.

Anger floods through Vi at the question before she remembers Jinx has no way of knowing what she knows. She doesn’t know Caitlyn did all of this for them. It takes everything to pull back on the rush of anger and look at her sister. 

“Caitlyn,” she says, “did Caitlyn say anything?”

“No she just talked to you,” Jinx says, “until the bunker.” Vi’s heart jumps, “she brought me food. She said there wouldn’t be a trial,” Jinx continues, “when you came and you looked so happy, I didn’t want you to watch me be executed. Even though I deserve it. I knew it’d hurt you and I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

The air goes out of Vi’s lungs.

“You knew it’d hurt me?” Vi asks weakly. 

“You hate seeing people hurt,” Jinx says, coming closer.

The words hang between them as the horrible truth settles into Vi’s marrow. Caitlyn protected her. Even if the battle meant they would both die, Caitlyn made sure Vi wouldn’t watch people die. She made sure Vi wouldn’t suffer. Even after the things Vi yelled at her. A low sound pulls from her chest at the realization. Any doubt Vi had that the Caitlyn she fell for was in there somewhere vanishes. It’s too smart a trap. Not the brutal ones Caitlyn laid in their search for Jinx. This is a clever one. Unbearably clever. And Vi fell for it. It should feel like a snare but as she looks at the trap, even she cannot find any cruelty in it. It should feel like a snare but instead it feels like an embrace. Like Caitlyn pressing her tears into her neck on the bridge. Like the way her arms wound around her when their lips finally met. She had begged her not to change. She felt betrayed when she did. Now she sees there’s a part of Caitlyn that didn’t. But she was too blind to see it. Caitlyn was there and she just left. 

“Where are we?” Vi demands. 

“Huh?”

“Where are we?” She hurries up to the wheelhouse, “how close are we to Piltover?” Her mind shifts. Caitlyn’s brilliant, of course that guy was wrong. She’s found a way to survive, “we have to get there.”

“Vi we can’t,” Jinx says. 

“We have to!” Vi argues, “Caitlyn’s there—she’s probably in the Bunker waiting for us,” she tries to think. The ship was well stocked, the bunker must be too, “they’re probably running low on supplies so we gotta hurry—“

“Vi!” Jinx finally says her name in a way that registers. She looks at the anguish on her face and forces herself to stop for a moment. Even though everything in her screams to start running through the storm, “she’s not.”

“Jinx—“ Vi shakes her head, “I know I’m asking a lot but this is an emergency. She’s waiting, we can get her and figure this all out. I made her think I didn’t care, I gotta fix that—“

“No, Vi,” Jinx makes a miserable sound, “she talked to me in the bunker. She said she was exhausted and tired of hating me,” she chews her lip, “she said she hated herself.”

“What did you say?” Vi questions. 

“I told her I didn’t know her mom was up there,” she says. 

“What else?”

Jinx shakes her head. 

“She left right after.”

Vi looks back at the map and forces her anger down. It’s not just at Jinx, it’s at herself. She yelled at Caitlyn and Jinx told her that her mother’s death was little more than an afterthought. Caitlyn hated herself. Vi abandoned her to a woman she betrayed. A monster she betrayed. She hadn’t truly been loyal, if she had she would have done things differently. All those months and how Caitlyn must have felt make her head spin. All of that she weathered alone. Vi had made a few attempts to get in contact but they were all quickly rebuffed. She thought it was because of how much she fucked up, but the world has shifted. Was Caitlyn protecting her even then? She misses the chair and sits down hard on the floor. Jinx comes over and sits in front of her. There’s life in her eyes, but it feels like it’s coming out of Vi. 

“We’ll go as soon as the weather clears,” Jinx says.

Vi nods but her gaze keeps dragging towards the stone columns. 

And the crossed keys stamped into them. 

She waits for Jinx to fall asleep before she slips away. She’s been doing it for years. Slipping out of bed without waking her. She knows enough after months of flying this thing to program the autopilot on a delay. She does everything she can think of to slow Jinx down and she leaves a note. She promises she’ll be back as soon as she can, but if something happens Jinx needs to go. Needs to live for as long as she can. Live for all of them. She says she’s proud of her and would do it all a thousand times over to call her sister. She signs it ‘Always’. Then she gathers what she needs, puts on her red jacket and slips out of the ship. 

She makes it to Piltover a few hours later. 

The storm has shifted into just a downpour, no wind. Vi wishes there was as she looks at the bridge. This one is narrower. It’s a private bridge, one people aren’t allowed on unless you’re a founding family. The double keys were a dead give away. The ship going to that house makes a lot more sense now that she knows it’s a Kiramman ship. Of course it went to a Kiramman house. Now she’s on a Kiramman road. She waivers as she looks at the bridge. The autopilot is set for day. Jinx is still asleep probably. She could turn back. She should turn back. The chances of Caitlyn being alive are so impossibly slim. She and Jinx could have months more floating in the sky. This plague could stop. She could go off with the new life that’s been given to her so selflessly. 

But Caitlyn will be here. 

Her parents will be here.

Vander and Benzo and Mylo and Claggor—

And Caitlyn. 

Vi steps onto the bridge. 

The rain obscures her vision enough that it’s a surprise when she realizes there’s something ahead. She’s never seen the things before. Only heard the whispered rumors of how you can’t let them touch you. Maybe the rain is giving her some cover because this one hasn’t moved. It stands perfectly still. It’s faceless and white, etched through with gold. All she can think of is how the elongated, elegant limbs remind her of Viktor. She steps forward and the doll shifts just slightly. Just enough for Vi to know she’s been made. The option of going back closes behind her. She waits for the feeling of horror, but all she feels is relief. Peace settles over her as she looks at the face. You’re not supposed to try and guess who they were. But if she’s going to die, she figures why not? There’s a lot of gold on this one, it’s actually more gold than white. Including a dip where a lip should be. 

“Vi,” the robotic says her name but it speaks with Viktor’s voice. Another pin slides into place, “this is a surprise.”

“Is it?” She asks. 

“No, this is inevitable” the doll says, “but I thought it would be a few months before we met again. Where is your sister?”

“Long gone,” she says, “months, right?” The doll inclines its head, “so what does it matter?”

“You still sacrifice yourself so easily.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m here,” she says. 

The doll moves and it’s suddenly in front of her. It’s fucking fast. Her dream echoes back to her of the hand pushing through her body. There’s nothing to stop this doll from doing the same. It doesn’t though. It tilts its head considering her. 

“Emotion clouds us,” Viktor says, “humanity’s greatest flaw,” his voice shifts and a female one Vi has heard a few times joins it, “she was so relieved you didn’t see.”

Vi’s hand grabs the first piece of metal she can. The thing reverses the grip, knocks her hands aside and picks her up by the jacket. 

“How confident are you?” Vi challenges. The doll shifts it’s head, “you said you corrected emotions. But Caitlyn thought of me—“ she’s thinking on her feet, “take me to her and find out.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” the doll says, drawing her closer. 

“You’re the scientist,” Vi says. 

The doll considers her for a moment more and then she’s flying through the air. It’s hard to even get a breath in, let alone get her bearings. The doll takes her through the deserted city, past groups of the same dolls. Vi forces herself not to look at how fucking small some of them are. Kids. He did this to kids. He’ll do it to every kid in the world. The dolls occasionally glance over. Vi wonders if it’s Viktor looking or if some part of them remains who they were. The doll shoots across the Bridge of Progress and skids to a stop so she’s facing Zaun. The hand behind her neck tightens as the doll goes silent. Like someone has flicked a switch and turned it off. Something like hope churns in Vi’s gut. Maybe Viktor will be here to witness this experiment. Doubt flicks in the back of her mind but Vi shoves it away. Caitlyn did all of this for her. She’s not listening to any doubts. There’s a glow behind her and the doll rotates her so she watches Viktor descend. Any hope vanishes at the sight of him. He’s more machine than man, no sign of the person Vi thought would save her dad. When he floats over to her, there’s no heat on him. 

“We have evolved past feelings,” he intones and the sound comes from him and the doll, “but sometimes we are drawn to the familiar. A weakness eased by time,” he says, “as are all things.”

“Where is she?” Vi questions, straining to hear any sound of Caitlyn.

“As I said, the familiar draws us. Even past feelings,” the doll turns her and deposits her on the ground.

Right by the pillar that was the memorial to her fucking parents. 

You aren’t supposed to let them touch you. Now Vi sees why. That hand on the back of her neck has been in her head. She’s going to die right where her mom died. Funny because she always thought she’d die at home. But the bridge is as good as anywhere if she’s going to fucking die. Vi straightens her jacket and looks at Viktor, but his head is turned. The claw on his back tightens into a point and a flash of light emits, illuminating the dolls they zipped past. They stand on the bridge and VI can pick out the bronze on them. They’re much less gold than the doll that carried her here. Some of them are splattered with red. It takes a moment for her to realize these were all Enforcers. Or dressed like them anyway. Her stomach tightens as she sees one has his hand across his stomach, like he could be holding a shield. She forces herself not to think about whether or not that’s Loris. It probably is. They are all standing at the ready facing a doll whose back is towards them. Like it’s stopping the Enforcers from coming any closer. 

Like it’s protecting her. 

She can’t breathe as the truth hits her. Even before it registers this doll is taller than most. It rotates and Vi is gutted at the smoothness of it’s features. She thinks for a moment maybe she was wrong. But her eyes pick out the bulkiness of the doll’s right shoulder where Caitlyn always wore the most armor. Worse is the red on the hollow of her throat. It mirrors the red at the back of her neck. Caitlyn wasn’t just dying, Caitlyn was drowning in her own blood. And all she felt was relief Vi wasn’t there to see it. The doll behind her steps back and Vi realizes she’s about to watch Viktor speak through Caitlyn. 

“Hang on don’t you want this to be authentic?” She says. Viktor looks at her, “see what she does without you.”

“We are one,” Viktor says. 

“You sound pretty solo to me,” Vi challenges. Viktor’s head cocks to the side and Caitlyn follows, “let her do whatever you’re doing.”

“It won’t work,” Viktor replies. 

“So what’s the harm?” Vi asks, “you said it yourself, the world has months. When are you going to get the chance to do this again?” Her heart thuds when Viktor doesn’t just shoot the idea down, “She did all of this for me,” she says, “how many times are you going to find an emotion like that?”

Viktor gives something that might be a shrug and settles himself against the side of the bridge. He looks almost relaxed. Only the fact that he can fly tells Vi pushing him off the bridge won’t fix this. She turns back to the Caitlyn doll. It’s still and frozen, head still cocked to the side. Like an off switch has been flicked. She looks at Viktor who regards her. 

“Perhaps you were wrong,” he says. 

“No I just need to get closer,” Vi retorts.

The doll helps her out with that. 

It’s so much worse up close. How the fuck is this thing Caitlyn. But it is. Vi knows it is. She tilts her head to try and mimic how the doll is standing. She tries to think about the Caitlyn who lingers in the back of her head. The one who looked at her softly and didn’t bother to tell Vi she was an actual princess until there was no other choice. Who pleaded for her to stay and forgave Vi for leaving the first time. She clings to that image as she looks at the doll’s smooth face. 

“Hey, Cupcake,” she says, “thanks for lending me your ship. Took me months to figure it out but you know,” she taps her head, “Loris said the doc’s told you I had a thick skull. Probably wouldn’t have figured it out for a few more months if it hadn’t happened.”

The twitch is so faint Vi thinks she might have imagined it. 

“But once it did I figured it out,” she says, “the note was really sweet.”

Another twitch, this one unmistakable even before the doll’s head rotates forward and then up. 

“Not me,” the doll wheezes.

Vi’s eyes flood with tears. Caitlyn can hide her feelings better than anyone she knows. She plays things close to the chest until she can’t anymore. Until they bubble over. In a kinder world, it would be love or something that made her do it. But it’s not. Anger gets her there. Anger makes Caitlyn speak even though some part of her thinks she’s still got destroyed vocal cords. But she speaks because Vi’s managed to annoy her. To put a dent in her brilliant but stupid plan. Vi tries to blink the tears away but a few break free. Caitlyn is closer, peering at her with those missing features. 

“There was no note,” Caitlyn clarifies and her voice comes out stronger. 

“So how’d I know it was you then?” Vi challenges, “or are you going to pretend it wasn’t?”

Caitlyn considers her quietly. 

“How?”

“Come on Cupcake, take a guess.”

Caitlyn twitches.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, “it’s too late.”

“Nah it’s never too late,” Vi says, “come on, you know you want to know.”

Dread creeps though her as Caitlyn twitches again. Vi wants to see her face but there’s nothing there. She’s so used to seeing the way Caitlyn’s face shifts to let her know if something is getting through or not. Does Caitlyn even know she’s a doll? That Vi can’t see. 

“Okay fine it was the carpets,” she says. 

“I was thinking!” Caitlyn argues and then stops, “what?”

“They used the wrong glue in the hallway,” she says, “I found your Kiramman ones underneath.”

Caitlyn goes still. Panic hits Vi like a ton of bricks. Not seeing her expression is hard. She sees one of the other dolls twitch and moves before she can think. She grabs Caitlyn’s hand and touches it to her side. The doll jerks back.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Caitlyn says, “I didn’t want you here.”

“You got what you wanted,” Vi says, “now it’s my turn. Or is this just about you?” The doll is quiet, “come on Cupcake did you think about me at all?”

“Y-Y—“ the doll stutters and goes quiet. Then straightens and says in that overlapping voice, “Yes but it doesn’t matter."

Vi grabs the hand again and flattens Caitlyn’s palm over her side. The doll jerks like it’s fighting something. Vi puts her other hand there, holding it against her skin. The place where Caitlyn saved her. Features or not, she knows that means something. Viktor moves out of the corner of her eye and she feels the dolls fingers meld together. They flatten into something pointed and the path forward becomes horribly clear. The Caitlyn doll twitches, goes still and straightens, pulling it’s hand back. 

“Your hypothesis was not proven,” Viktor and Caitlyn’s voices overlap, “we have evolved—“

The metal goes through her flesh as easily as it did in her dream. 

It hurts way worse. 

Vi sucks in a breath and looks down at the metal embedded in her gut. Her blood drips down the white cone as it goes deeper. Towards her heart. The cone twitches and shifts back into a hand. It wrestles a noise from her lips as her mouth fills with blood. Unlike her dream she spits it to the side this time. She’s not getting out of this. The doll looks down at her wound and curves it’s hand inside her body. Vi feels it in her ribs as it pulls her closer. 

“You would strain the system,” Viktor says.

“I never wanted to be one of your stupid dolls,” Vi says. Fingers twitch again, “I just wanted to die at home,” she says, putting her hands on Caitlyn’s shoulders, “with someone who loves me.”

Viktor screams and Caitlyn’s voice takes over. 

Vi watches Viktor stagger back, clutching at his head. All of the dolls collapse but Caitlyn cradles her so tightly Vi barely feels it. Or maybe that’s just the blood loss. Either way it barely seems to matter as she looks up. Caitlyn is gasping loudly, looking around like she isn’t certain where she is. Vi grips her arm and her head turns frantically towards her. A horrified sound escapes her lips. Vi smiles and tries not to think of how bloody her lips must be. 

“Oh God, Vi,” she chokes out her name.

“S’okay,” Vi breathes, “I meant it,” she says, “I wanted to see you.”

“No, no—“ Caitlyn turns her head frantically.

“He said you went somewhere familiar,” Vi gasps, “I’d come here too. Where I came back,” she looks at Caitlyn, “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Vi, no, Jinx needs you,” Caitlyn pleads, her thumb stroking her cheek, “you could have months.”

“No,” Vi says as their airship appears. Dozens of blue stones clustered on it. Gods she hopes this works. Viktor is still clutching at his head, “just want you.”

“Why?!” Caitlyn cries and Vi smiles as the world takes on a fuzzy edge. She brushes her thumb across where Caitlyn’s lips should be. The doll can’t make tears but Caitlyn sobs all the same, “I thought I was protecting you.”

“You did,” Vi says, “but I want to be with you more.”

The flash is blinding but all Vi can see is the doll’s face. It doesn’t have lips but she pulls it closer as Caitlyn leans down. Deep in her chest Vi feels Caitlyn’s fingers find her heart. All Vi can think is they’re the lucky ones.  Caitlyn's fingers close over her heart and Vi pulls her closer as the heat and light hit them both and take them.

****

Ekko waits hours before emerging after the blast. 

He’s lived his life in four second increments for months. Lifetimes, if he’s being honest. With all the times he’s had to jerk back time. All the near misses, the almost deaths. The actual deaths. But he’s kept his people alive. That’s the only thing that fucking matters. It’s weird to even feel the breeze as he walks to the bridge. All of the dolls lay dead. Their strings cut. It’s hard to wrap his head around when he looks at them. They were people once. When he shifts one, nothing happens. They really are gone. 

He makes his way towards the Bridge, where he thinks the blast may have come from. It’s confirmed when he looks at the gaping hole ripped through it. The blast is devastating and right though the center of the bridge. The Herald is nowhere to be seen, but Ekko thinks he might be at the bottom of the water. Or maybe he doesn’t exist anymore. They’ll have to figure that out. The dolls would come for him if he was still there. Ekko looks around for some kind of confirmation, but he doesn’t have to look long. 

One of the dolls is cradling a person. 

They’re well preserved considering the magnitude of the blast, thanks only to the doll that cradles them. The doll is collapsed over them, hiding their face. Ekko can see the doll’s hand buried in their side. Either they wanted to cause pain or to prevent it. But the way they are cradling the person makes him think it was the latter. He’s never seen a doll express anything like kindness, no matter who they used to be. It would be strange anywhere but he can’t help the feeling that it has something to do with the explosion. 

“Is it over?” Scar asks him quietly. 

“Yeah,” Ekko says, “I think we’re safe."

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Little 141 (+König!) SFW!Headcannons

König

Eats shredded cheese from the bag

Hypes himself up before anything (still stands in a corner)

Cannot write in a straight line

Tries to begin a book, closes it within 3 minutes

Likes hockey, believes he would be a hockey player in another life (true)

Price

Gets a new hat from Soap every Christmas/birthday. They’re all fucking stupid too (ex. Price has a hat that says “this is what a cool dad 🔥 looks like”. He’s not a dad.)

Hates pickles

Shaves his beard into weird ass shapes and sends them to the team before shaving it all (they like the mustache)

Fishes in his free time and takes a picture with every fucking fish

Uses emojis (most used: 😂🧐🫡🇬🇧)

Soap

Unironically 🤨 when he doesn’t understand something

Posts on Facebook every once in a while

Gets VERY mad at board games

Eats like a starved man (he just ate an hour ago)

Over seasons his food religiously

Ghost

If children are staring at him he will stare back

Texts ominously…and dry. So dry. (Ex. Hasn’t texted you for months and then suddenly “Hi”. Nothing else.)

Cats rub on his leg and he feels a little bad about leaving them so he gives them a little scratch and an “I’m sorry”

So bad when people vent to him. (Side hug) “I’m sorry…Uh, that’s tough. Yeah, real tough.

Takes aggressive showers. Scrubbin REAL hard

Gaz

Has eaten the same sandwich for lunch since 7th grade and swears up & down his mom makes it better

Looks like he forces a smile in every picture

Football player in highschool but he was kicked off bc he assaulted a guy who said a few things to him

He doesn’t know how to react when being flirted with. “Haha thanks runs away”

One time he asked Soap what skibidi meant and they both didn’t know so they looked it up and now they both are well educated on brainrot terms

[raewritesfiction]

The Deputy [Jeremy Renner]

A/N: I watched the video for “Trouble” by Pink and it gave me this idea. Still…. ACAB. I know he plays the Sheriff in the video but for this he’s the Deputy! Also the daughter’s name was picked at random via a Google generator.

Plot: You’re locked in a cell in the Wild Wild West but Deputy Renner has a soft spot for you.

Pairing: Deputy! Jeremy Renner x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Sex worker. Lesbianism. Unsafe sex. Handcuffs.

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @thegreatlarryfisherman @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @dreamlesswonder86 @purplerain85 @lipstickandtanqueray @kandis-mom @melaclintbartoncorner @mcugeekposts @kcthescreamqueen

—

You sigh loudly just to piss off the Sheriff as he goes off duty and switches with his Deputy; you blow the man in charge a kiss “say hello to Scarlett for me!”

“That bitch stays put!” He says to the Deputy and walks out mumbling under his breath.

You’d get nowhere with the Sheriff but the Deputy…. Deputy Renner had a soft spot for you since you came to town and you were more than willing to use your own soft spot to your advantage.

The Deputy smiles at you behind the cell bars and shakes his head “ma’am… just what did you?”

“Hello Deputy Renner.” You wink “well… it seems I was caught stealin’ from a client… the thing is it was the heart of the Sheriff's daughter I stole…and he don’t like that none.”

Deputy Renner nods “uh huh…”

“The Sheriff wants Scarlett to marry some big wig in the city. Business type…. So he’s sending her off tonight on the last train of the day.”

“Well ain’t that a pickle?!” He grips onto the bars and flexes his biceps.

“Ain’t it just? I would very much like to leave and see her off… but it seems that I am stuck here in cuffs.” You pout and flutter your lashes at the Deputy.

“I would very much be obliged if you could let me out and although the sheriff took all my coins I can pay in a different way.”

Deputy Renner raises an eyebrow “I see…” re-adjusting his cowboy hat as he walks to the door of the cell you were in. “And how would you pay ma’am?”

“Well I know how badly you’ve been trying to get to my room at my… lodgin’s… but it seems I am always very busy with other clientele. Maybe I could forgo payment just this once to give you a very private experience right here?”

Deputy Renner smirks and licks his lips “well, the sheriff is gone until mornin’… but what do I tell him then?”

“You tell him I slipped my cuffs with a hair pin while you were taking care of business and then escaped my cell the same way… and you’re not in the habit of manhandlin’ a lady like that.”

“Well you have this all thought out don’t ya?” His hand was already unlocking the cell door for you.

“Yes sir, I most certainly do.” You smile and stand, flashing him your most seductive smile.

“You clean…?” He watches you.

“I sure am, it’s why my price is so high.” You nod “my clientele is very select.”

The Deputy nods and motions for you to step out towards him whereupon he guides you back towards the Sheriff’s desk “this would piss him off so badly…”

You nod “in which case I am all for it… and if it’s your thing… you can leave me in the cuffs.”

“Oh I am definitely leavin’ you in the cuffs until we’re done.” The Deputy nods and makes light work of undoing your bodice; it was re-stitched multiple times but it was still a firm favourite of your clients due to the way it made your tits so pronounced.

The Deputy licked his lips at the sight of your bare chest and his hands moved to massage and tease you, watching your nipples harden under his touch. You let out breathless moans and gasps; his name escaping you when his lips close around your nipple and suck lightly before switching to the other side.

You shuffle your legs and squeeze his hips with your thighs “please Deputy Renner…”

“So polite ma’am… I’m not so much when it comes to matters of pussy…” his hands glide up your legs and move the layers of skirts until he gazes at you “well look at that pretty pink pussy… I was almost expecting it to be made of gold the way other men and women talk about it.”

You blush and smile, leaning into his ear and speaking quietly “feels like silk, so I’m told…”

The Deputy moans low and reaches between your legs, sliding his fingers over you until they were slick and then pushing them into you with ease. You throw your head back and moan quietly; you had mastered the art of making the right noises at the right times but the way the Deputy moved his fingers inside you felt like he knew how to please a lady; curling and scissoring, thrusting them slowly then speeding up until you were whining against his ear and rocking your hips to his hand for release. Something you usually had to do for yourself between clients.

He withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, humming and closing his eyes “so sweet…”

You lean panting against him and nibble on his earlobe, wanting nothing more than to touch him but being bound by the cuffs behind your back.

Deputy Renner makes quick work of his belts and pants; pushing them down to free his hardening cock. “Want me to help?” You whisper and nip again.

“On your knees…” he commands

You drop down and open your mouth ready for him, your tongue peaking out over your teeth. His cock tastes a little salty, surely better than most of your clients and you bob your head as you suck along his length, taking little time to feel him harden fully.

“You’re over qualified for this…” he breathes and holds the edge of the desk “get up!” He groans and moves your skirts as you position yourself on the desk again; his hand grips your hip while the other guides his cock into you with ease, “God damn you really do feel as soft as silk…” he groans and pulls you down his length fully, both hands now gripping your hips.

You steady yourself and tighten around him in pulses to tease; a little something that drove other clients wild. The Deputy moans and gasps “keep doing that…” he starts thrusting into you and you’re glad the desk is against a wall for stability; his thrusts are rough and deep but he’s not hurting you like others who do the same. He keeps the pace measured and steady, your pussy coating his cock in your arousal until you’re both a panting mess.

The Deputy watches your tits move on every thrust, mesmerised by their sight and the way your body reacts to him. He watches your nipples harden into sensitive nubs and leans down to suck on them in turn making you whine and moan. Actual moans; you didn’t have to fake anything for the Deputy as he speeds up his hips and reaches to tease your clit - he wasn’t just about his own pleasure. You tightened and relaxed your walls around him as best you could and arched towards him as his teeth scraped over your nipple.

“Oh fuck!” You moan and pant quickly, violently tightening around his cock and pulling him into you with the force of your release. The Deputy grunts roughly and has enough thought to pull out of you, wrapping his hand around himself and jerking himself roughly, moving back as you fall to your knees and throw your head back again. After only moments you feel his hot cum on your bare tits, where his lips had been just seconds ago. His moan is rough and full of pleasure he’d been wanting to release; his jaw was lax and eyes tight shut and his chest heaving.

After a few of minutes, The Deputy is uncuffing you and watching you re-dress yourself.

“Come by anytime and tell them I sent you; I’ll make sure you get a good deal on any lady you like… and I’ll be sure to always have time for you, Deputy.”

He nods and offers a smile “Thank you ma’am… you’d better get running if you’re gonna catch her.”

You nod and leave to the sound of Renner sighing and thanking God.

-Fin-

[familyvideostevie]

how it could grow

thank you for voting in this poll! here we have grumpy!reader and sunshine!rooster going to the farmer's market | fluff, 1.7k

It's early.

Bradley gets up early and probably will forever. You've always considered yourself able to get up in the morning, but he's so...cheery. So damn chipper.

Being up early on a Saturday means the local farmer's market. It's so early that it's not even close to crowded, so you and your boyfriend stroll down the rolls of stalls, checking your combined list as you to to make sure you hit the right vendors.

Bradley waves at many of them, dragging you over to get some pickles and compliment Carlota's hat, to the bee farm stand to ask Steve about new candle scents, to get some iced tea and to hear about Lu's new puppy.

"This is delicious, Lu," he says. "What do you think, babe?" He nudges your shoulder with his.

He's not teasing you, not really, but he is trying to make you talk. You're usually very content to let Bradley be the talker, the friendly face. He's like the sun and for a long time you had no idea what he was doing spending his time with you. You're quieter, rougher around the edges. But he's practically drilled it into you by this point: he loves you. So you let him prod you a little because you do like these people and they always have a smile and kind word for you, even if Bradley does all the chatting.

"It's lovely," you tell the vendor, and mean it. It's no surprise Bradley knows him and his dog's name and everything about the business. He beams at you.

"Thank you!" he says. "Bradley's told me you're particular about your tea. Here, you take some of this new blend to try and let me know next week what you think."

So ensues a small battle over paying that ends with Bradley convincing Lu to come to the Hard Deck for a free drink this weekend in exchange for your sample blend.

"That was nice of him," you mumble, tucking into Bradley's side. He holds the iced tea you're sharing between you so you can take sips from the straw, his other arm slung over your shoulder.

"You're his favorite customer," he says. You look at him. Yeah, right, you say with your eyebrows. Seriously, his say back. You roll your eyes.

"I think that's you."

He winks. "Alright, beautiful." You scowl but he ignores it. "I think it's time to divide and conquer. You take fruits, I'll take veggies? And then we can hit the bakery on the way home and eat on the porch."

"Okay," you tell him. He gives you the rest of the tea and you tilt your cheek up. Bradley recognizes what you're asking for immedietly, surging forward to press his lips to your cheek tenderly.

"I'll find you," he says, and heads to the farm stand, whistling as he goes.

You head to the fruit stand. Bradley asked for strawberries, so you'll get some of those. And some apples for snacking on and blackberries, if she has them. When you get there, there's a small child and her mother in front of you. The little girl looks at you and you crack a smile at her and wiggle your fingers in hello. She giggles before burying her face in her mother's leg.

Yeah, okay, so a few things can crack your exterior. Your cheery, handsome aviator boyfriend and cute kids. And dogs, obviously.

The mom and kid leave and it's your turn. "Hi, honey!" the vendor says.

"Hi, Thalia," you say. Bradley comes here almost every week and when you tag along you love to visit this woman especially and her colorful piles of fruit.

"What's it for you today?" she says. Before you can answer, she holds up her hand. "Wait, I forgot!" She bends down under her stall table and reemerges with the most perfect carton of raspberries you've ever seen. You gasp softly. This is the first time she's had them all summer.

"Those are gorgeous," you say. She grins.

"That tall boyfriend of yours came by last week and I didn't have any yet." She chuckles at the memory. "He looked downright heartbroken and asked me to save some for you special once I picked 'em. So here we are! First and only carton before we bring a full load next week."

You gently take the berries from her and find that words won't come. "Oh," you say softly, looking down at them in your hands. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, dear," Thalia says softly. "Anything else for you?" You snap out of it and smile at her, rattling off your list. She bags up your things into your tote after you pay and you carry them over your shoulder while cradling the carton in your hands like precious cargo. Because it is.

The market is a little more crowded as you scan the veg stalls for Bradley. He does things like this -- the berries -- all the time, really. He looks out for you, makes sure your water bottle has ice in it, buys you more shampoo when he notices you're low, resets the car seat when he knows you'll be driving. You know that he likes taking care of you, that it makes him feel useful and like he's loving you properly, but you wonder if maybe you don't show him the same courtesy.

You know you can be sullen, you can be quiet, you can be prickly. It's not proved too much for him thus far and you're sure it won't drive him away, but you worry that he just doesn't know that he deserves to be loved with the same care and concern that he loves you. He deserves someone who makes sure he has the very first carton of the season of his favorite fruit.

You spot him standing by the kombucha stand and admire him as you walk over, tossing out the empty iced tea cup as you go. Highlighted hair, golden skin, tote bag of veg over his broad shoulders. He's so beautiful and he's yours. You love him, you really do. Right before you call his name he looks up and finds you, almost as if he felt you coming. He breaks into a smile so genuine you can't help but return it.

"Hi, gorgeous," he says, loudly. Beautiful, gorgeous. Bradley is always calling you something that makes your cheeks heat and your stomach swoop. You duck your head and step close to him. "Oh, hell yeah, the raspberries! Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," you tell him. You're perfect. "Thank you."

"Good," he says, like you being pleased by some raspberries is the best thing he's heard today. "Ready for breakfast?" You nod and he grabs your free hand and you head out of the market and down the street.

"Bradley," you say quietly, once you're clear of the stands. It's your serious tone and he picks up on it right away, giving your hand a squeeze.

"You okay?"

You hum. You are, but you need to get this out. "It was really nice of you to ask Thalia for these," you say, looking at your raspberries. "And I...I feel like I don't do things for you like that. And I wanted to say I'm sorry and that I'm going to try to do more because --"

"Woah, woah, woah," Bradley says, tugging you to a stop and making sure you're facing each other. "What's all this?" His brows are creased in concern, the furrow between them annoyingly adorable.

You take a deep breath and keep your eyes on his, determined. You want to be sure he hears this because you mean it.

"I know that I'm...prickly. And you're like the sun, Bradley." He looks like he wants to say something but you keep going before he can interrupt. "And you do nice things for me all the time and I know it's because you love me but also because it's just how you love, and because you're good. And I just want to do more to make sure you know that I love you and that you deserve to be treated like you're...like you're the best person in the world because you are."

His eyes get wider and wider as you speak, his lips parting. Yeah, maybe this is a little intense for like, 8:30 in the morning, but you two are honest with each other. It's how you got this far.

"Sweetheart," he says. "Baby, god, I--" He cups your face with one hand, eyes darting back and forth between yours. "But you do."

It's your turn to furrow your brows. What does he mean?

"You iron my uniform and you make sure I get dinner with Maverick every few weeks and you put gas in the Bronco and you stay up late to call me when I'm halfway across the world and you never let me forget my watch and you tell me you love me and that I'm brave and..." Bradley trails off and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. He starts again, quieter this time. "You're quiet in the mornings but you don't mind when I whistle and you're grumpy when it's too hot but you go outside with me anyway and you let me do the talking because I can't shut up and you only smile when you mean it and you're you. You do love me like that. You do."

Good god, you're blinking away tears at his words. "Okay," you say. "I guess we...I guess we love each other alright." Maybe it's just hard to see yourself the way he sees you. Maybe he finds it hard to see himself the way you see him. Maybe this is just how it is -- you have to remind each other you're doing your best.

Bradley leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. "You fucking bet we do," he whispers.

"Don't crush my berries," you say, eyes fluttering closed. He shifts and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I'd never."

And then he kisses you on the empty boardwalk on another gorgeous morning in your lovely, wonderful life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here! (also did anyone catch the easter egg in this fic :))

[wanderingblindly]

With what you said about growing old, might I point you towards the poem Warning by Jenny Joseph, especially the version read by one of my all time favourite actresses Helena Bonham Carter (https://youtu.be/ShNYW2e5ecQ?si=1Ao-TtYRkzUEeJ9h)

I'll copy paste it here for you: 🧡

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

((corrected link that you sent in your second ask))

GOD yeah this is the exact feeling!!!!! It really is!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What an absolutely beautiful poem, thank you so much for sharing 💖💖💖

[trixcuomo]

Dear Blizzard,

I said this as a joke before, but I think it has potential--could you please make the NPCs in capital cities romanceable, like in Baldur's Gate?

No, I'm serious! And it doesn't have to be romantic as a rule. Let's increase player presence in the big cities. We could grind rep off these profession trainers and vendors for things like the Ruby Feast cosmetic buffs that give you top hats, or little pets that ride on your shoulder for a day. Or these giant bongo drums that I once saw a vulpera wearing on his back? Stuff like that!

The NPC wants us to run an errand, or collect a thing? Steal from the other hunter trainer, settle a bet, park their mount after insulting us like that scene in The Fall Guy, or listen to their god-awful life story? We'd do any of that for a 24-hour fur boa mog. Or a buff with flavor text saying we chipped a tooth on ancient candy. My 10k-years-young Night Elf loved that last expac.

Maybe a few of them flirt with us too, I dunno. The more we click yes, that we like them back, the happier they are to see us the next time around. We could go on these adorable picnic dates in Valshara or to the Darkmoon Faire. Like if they mention they are bored and we bring them ride tickets? That boredom prompt could be open-ended with lots of options for dates. I can't wait to see what bringing Master Apothecary Faranell a pickled murloc head does! We could even be the third wheel when Mankirk finally pops the question to his new wife, over kodo steaks. Cause he was too nervous to do it without us.

At the highest reputation level with these guys, maybe our best friend NPC shows up unexpectedly in the new expac main city. They're standing next to our new profession trainer and want to put in a good word for us. Maybe that's +2 profession knowledge a week--thank you very much, Jhordi Lapforge! That'll keep me a step ahead of other crafters, or help me level up, but not break the system.

Or, it's sorta funny and awkward when they flag us down in the Dornogal inn, shouting our name. We buy them some food and drinks from the innkeeper to get them calm, and we eventually help them buy an apartment in the city. Get them settled with a new workshop that only we can see. Or, if other players can see how we helped them and they brag about our special friendship, even better!

These NPCs could also give or receive gold, goofy gray-grade items, and even instacart some special food from random expacs like Orgri'la chicken tendies. How else can you deal with a sudden craving! Best friends go on munchies runs for each other.

If you want to give them an actual story arc and let some of them become obsessed with us, then fine. Of course they would! We're the champions of friggin Azeroth and it's about time we had our own fanclub.

If I get chased down the streets of Dornogal at least once by Gravy about my bar tab back at the Wyvern's Tail, you will make my Horde life.

All I'm sayin--This could be Real World World of Warcraft. Your choice.

Your friend,

Trixany Cuomo

[theinsanecrayonbox]

FOP: A New Wish e16?, 18-22

well would you lookit that, new episodes. thanks internet for telling me...since i don't watch cable live...but man, we are starting the wonky releasing aren't we? e17 was e16, but now e16 is 2 episodes after e17?? the more things change, the more they stay the same eh? lol

Episode 16: Lost and Founder's Day

yeah like i said, wonky episode ordering. i know they sometimes air out of production order, but this? this is also a full 22 min episode?? nice. i guess that's why it's so out of order...wouldn't have that problem if you didn't split 22 min eps into 11 min ones, just saying...

huh, and description is saying that Dale is the new Crocker...yeah, i can easily see that...it's the plot of s2 of the Santa Clauses

so story time proper now

oh right the Dimmadome hat, because Doug founded the town, du how'd i forget that.

aww Dev is still glasses-less. but lol smart watch that can't tell time, classic

pfffft the mentioning of Poof and Cosmo's slip of the tongue, that's great. nice that they acknowledge that Cosmo had him. but wait, did they just admit that they left him alone for 10,000 years while on vacation? it hasn't been 10,000 years...but still, you left your son at boarding school this entire time??? guys

oh hey recurring wish characters, just chilling in the wild, not drawing any attention for weirdness...why'd Mark have to hide in the past again

pfft Dimm n' Out Burgers

Doug got gold in 1953...the original series was like mid 90s...???

oh Hazel's gonna wish for others, now we're pulling Live Action plots...but also Wishmas...but also standard, and was that the standard kid hurray that FNaF uses??

dawww Dev :( i mean i know we knew the statute wasn't gonna be good, but poor Dev. and wow laying on the Poof referencing heavy; if i hadn't been spoiled that he's returning it wouldn't be a surprise because that is not foreshadowing, that's a neon sign

and hat montage...ok...at least it's not a musical number i guess...and it is a nice commercial break spot, because *double length episode*

heh snarky Dev. but also daww protecting Hazel

and dawww 3rd act breakup?? Dev hunny

but now we have terminator founders' day statues. this is getting crazy again, and i love it

ha! callback to the "oh great the wand not working noise". also callback to Cosmo was right

pfft "Dill Pickle Dimmadome". just a dumb joke, or Rugrats shoutout, you decide!

huh just now realizing that the non-Roman Dimmadome was French, very obviously a French trapper, so...are the Dimmadomes also Canadian?

dawwww Hazel be nice to Dev! he did save you

HEY! Poof is back! yes, yes, he's Peri now; very grown up, not a questionable foreign slur, i know. and he's Dev's fairy????? ok i did not see that how he came back; i expected him in an episode or two. but how interesting that the spoiled rich kid who's parents don't love him gets the purple fairy...again...

well, i guess i can see why this was produced as e16, but aired after e18 since that's sort of a big plot point

Episode 18: Work Her Magic

so chronologically this should be before Lost and Founder's Day...lets see is that matters. because this series does have some ongoing continuity to it...

synopsis has the standard plot of kid thinks parent is overworking so wants to spend time with them. doesn't sound like Add-a-Dad, so that's good

adult Hazel design? huh

heh the puppet replacement is back...and having an existential crisis??? O.o this show man...i love it

hey design for Antony

interesting montage

wait what was the name of the building??? E-Lidder+Acey Publishing. oh, ok, it went by so fast i thought it was E-Leddy, as in similar to Mr Turner's boss at the pencil pushed factory office thing. idt there's a connection, carry on

there's no Un-Wish Island for Hazel, but instead a cosmic void...filled with neon glitter...Mad Muse Mythos??? O.o

ah well, the ending was good enough. this was a low magic, personal growth episode, which is always grade a good. but you know...i feel like there could be a wish uprising in the future, just like Un-Wish Island...oh and no, idt this being aired out of order in comparison to Lost and Founders Day matters at all

Episode 19: Crock to the Future

so many pun titles, i am loving it. but Crocker is back??? did he get demoted to janitor after his affair with Vicky (heh yes i will never forget the worst part of Odder, and neither will any of you so it will never happen again)(also this is NOT the Odder timeline so i know there's no correlation...other than the cosmic multiverse deciding to punish him for eth actions in an alternate reality lol). but...since the internet spoiled that there's an adult AJ, this is sort of a missed opportunity to have it be adult Kevin...not that i want Kev to be a carbon copy of Crocker, but still. would help narrow the timeline more (gimme adult Chloe! gimme proof there's no Sparky!!), seeing as Poof is grown and present, so we know it's not a Channel Chasers timeline...

anywhos, actual episode!

AJ!!! Anthony James Junior is AJ's full name??? and he's into Paranormal Science/ uh...that doesn't really track, but AJ!?

but also, claiming that the experts said a ghost containment unit was impossible...so this is not the same universe as DP, since that is confirmed as possible. i know it wasn't really a connected universe before, but confirmation that they are separate is nice...though i say that and watch as Jack and Maddie end up in a background shot coming up lol

wow their paranormal detector works

AJ!! "remember him from the original series?" lol but yeah this has got to be 20 years in the future minimum...

hey there's Mark and his ship on that mural!

IT'S CROCKER!!!!!! and he looks so OLD! zomr i love it, he looks so much like Dolores and Albert. and he still has the FaIrYgOdPaReNtS!!

huh we acknowledge that Crocker was their godkid, nice

Wanda, why would you think Crocker covering eth building in a net is impossible? he afforded to do that back on a teacher's salary, he can certainly do that on a janitor's

Timmy name drop!

so Crocker does this every year...AJ knows his old teacher works for him. neat!

well this was actually a very fun cameo episode! i highly approve!! shame Kev didn't show up to pick Crocker up at the end, and it'd mimic how Denzel was with Dolores, but better since Kev isn't fairy crazy...i liked Kev lol

Episode 20: Battle of the Dimmsonian

description says Dev and Hazel magic battle. so...it's Remy Rides Again

oooo Dev's the wishy-washy wisher, that's neat. it goes to show that even he doesn't know what eh wants or needs

waitwiatwait "remember episode 13 when i was horse and you were a cowboy hat" e13 of NW was Stany Danky and was there cowboy wear in that? e13 of the original series was Christmas Everyday and...no i think it was only Maria that was a cowboy there. hm.....

oh are they going to follow the "fairy godparents can't out other fairy godkids" rule??

Brindle Folk people lived in Dimmadelphia before settlement huh? ad they have a lot of antlers...and a spirit named Viozalia...and that looks like a portal....otter-deer fae nice (i see what you meant saying i had a lot to work with in these new episodes lol)

hey that looks like a ghost portal...fae spirit...yeah that tracks...heh called her a demi-god wow. wrath of the underworld? what is this show?? i love it!!

hehe Viozalia tricking Dev into giving her the staff; classic fae.

"what to do if your kid tries to start the ghost apocalypse" that is actually a thing that they though could happen/has happened before?? also ghost apocalypse, and child possession, this is amazing

the family reveal was fun lol

dawww Dev not knowing how friendships work

hehe Ghostbusters references all around

that was actually a really good episode. very enjoyable, plot progressive, character progressive, very spoopy. A+ team

Episode 21: Patty Possum's Party Playground

is that a FNaF reference??? and did they forget that they already have Mikey Mozzarella's?? and description says Hazel wishes eth animatronics to life...it is FNaF holy crap!!!

Patty Possum looks like a female Mikey Mozzarella...

and if Winn watched her show in daycare, it's at least a 5 year old franchise

man i love Ski-Ball

Patty invited the children onto the stage to be her new posse...she's gonna try to keep them isn't she...

ah another instance of Cosmo and Wanda being idiots and loosing their wands the most stupid way because if they didn't there'd be no plot

haha yup there it is, she's keeping those children. time to survive until 6 am kids

wait what was the tunnel graffiti?? Miss you Mom...with 25 tick marks and a skeleton, oh...i thought it was something cooler. carry on

ok i am so into this musical number. the background music is actually going good this ep

dawww lesson of the week time; friends are friends even when they are apart

oh no the possum is stealing not-Timmy to stuff him into a suit to be the new turtle or something! lol

ok, so this was fun. didn't go as dark as the other spoopy episodes, but it was still fun, and filled with fodder.

Episode 22: A Date to Remember

this one's description sounds like a Lovestruck light...but hey more returning characters!

oh actually it seems like it's got some Apartnership mixed in too actually...huh...neat

hey, Cosmo's referencing their first date from "Floating with You" from School's Out: The Musical. you guys did your homework a bunch

wait she made that wish...oh geeze Hazel Marty McFlyed herself...oh wait no, not time traveling, but basically yeah

heehee 2d versions of stuff that happened, love it

what happened to Cupid?? O.o this character is like, 100% different than the original. are we saying that Cupid isn't a person but an office/title now? so this isn't the same Cupid?? redoing Father Time was since since he wasn't a highly established character, but Cupid was, and since we had April Fool reffs it's not like you guys never saw OG Cupid

all the sports jokes are going over my head. i don't sport ball.

but you know, the message that love isn't just a point game, and that Angela still had free will to choose despite the game saying otherwise, that's great.

so other than the confusing character...it was ok

Episode 23: Lost in Fairy World

the kids get lost and fairies have to find them before Jorgen finds out? is it now illegal to bring your godkids to Fairy World?? i mean, tat should've been a rule from the start, but why now?

heehee family brunch of candy. and Dev's first Fairy World exposure, nice. but you know what, this is actually really cute and clever setup giving Peri to Dev. Dev's an only child with an absent father (and no mother in sight), so he gets a single godparent. BUT he also happens to also get 2 grand-godparents and a godsister/aunt in the form of Hazel. Dev gets the big loving family he wants so badly. meanwhile, Hazel started this by loosing her brother's friendship when he moved away, and feeling distant from her parents; well she got herself 2 more godparents for the attention, and now has a godbrother and godnefew/goduncle and godcousin/brother (i know technically it works one way but the dynamics of the personal interactions feel the other so just role with it). she's gotten back her family she thought she lost. this was really good story telling here.

anywhos, Fairy World!! oooo map...with several locations....ooooooooooooo

Cosmo and Wanda being over bearing parents to Peri is great. and Peri saying Dev's his first godkid...eh...i guess he's technically right since we only saw him assigned to Dolores in Fairly Old Parent before...

ok we're going on a world tour! first stop: Star Dome. it's...a wand garden? i feel like we established wand production in the past but i can't recall when... second stop: Rainbow Highway. not much to it third stop: Dollfins. it's...dolphins, but dolls...wut? this seems silly fourth stop: Wings n' Thangs. it's a factory...mk...well since Norm did have wings stapled onto his back i guess wing manufacturing is a thing

Jorgen seems stupider than he used to be...i blame the sweater vest

the kids unwished themselves? wait what?? THAT'S the Hocus Poconos?? Wish storage...Unwish Island...the glitter void where the puppet went...is that this place??? I...hu...and there is an Un-wish dragon. i...hm...

pfft ok i'll give the dragon the meta joke, that was funny

and i guess this new system does make sense, seeing as Timmy got Un-Wish Island because his Wish Storage was over willed, so dumping the unwishes in a designated area with something to destroy them does make sense. now i'm hoping there's a rebel Gary here and we go Mad Max with a smattering of other unwishes lol

pffft Fredanator head, nice. i guess it's cameo time....holy crap that was a skeletal snake!Vicky in a milkshake glass O.o show!! i love you

wait ate a godkid again?? O.o!!!!

lol Dev learning no lessons. he's trying guys, he's learning...slowly lol

ok not a bad episode. very much a cameo game. still loving this show, looking forward to next week's crop.

[mjonthetrack]

vice: book v

Chapter 134: “Family Is More Than Blood”

Back at the compound, the mood was subdued. The breeze coming off the water did little to cool the simmering tension from earlier. The children were inside, napping or distracted by cartoons. Most of the family gave Dulce space, watching her quietly, as if afraid to break the fragile calm that had settled around her.

She sat on the back patio, still in her beach cover-up, her curls tied back messily, Zion nestled against her chest. Her arms cradled him instinctively, protectively, even in sleep. Her body was still sore. Her mind still burned with flashes of that bastard’s hands and the fear in Jasmine’s voice. But she held it together—because she had to.

Jey and Nadia came outside together, hand in hand, the weight of earlier heavy on both of their faces. Neither said anything at first. Dulce looked up at them with tired, understanding eyes, and gently adjusted Zion’s little hat to keep the sun off his face.

Jey stepped forward first. “I don’t even know how to say thank you in a way that feels enough,” he started, voice a little hoarse. “You protected my baby, Dulce. You protected my Jasmine.”

Nadia didn’t speak, her eyes already glossy, one arm crossed over her stomach while the other wiped at her cheek. “She told me everything,” she said softly. “She said you blocked her view, that you kept her safe... said you told her to close her eyes and not look no matter what. She said she heard you yelling. Fighting. She wasn’t scared because she said she knew you wouldn’t let anything happen.”

Dulce’s face twisted for a second, lips pursed, throat tight. She didn’t cry—not now—but her voice cracked when she spoke.

“Look…” She held up one hand, shaking her head as if to stop them before they got too deep. “I know I’m not a Fatu by blood… but I would protect any of these children with my life. Jasmine, Messiah, Melody, JJ, the triplets, Kyree—all of ‘em. Mine or not.”

She looked down at Zion and then back up at them. “You don’t need to thank me. I know any one of you would’ve done the same thing if it was Zion. That’s what we do here. That’s what family is. I’ll be okay… just be there for your daughter. Help her through it. Don’t worry about me.”

Jey swallowed hard, nodding with his jaw clenched, clearly fighting emotion he didn’t want to show.

But then Dulce blinked and added, “However… if you do wanna pay me back… I do have an aggressive appetite for a bacon cheeseburger. Pickles. Extra. And a Sprite. Maybe a few curly fries if y’all really love me.”

Nadia let out a watery laugh, wiping her eyes. “Girl, you’re so damn annoying.”

“Yup,” Dulce said proudly, sitting back. “And hungry. Like a hero should be.”

Jey shook his head, a laugh finally breaking free as he leaned forward to press a grateful kiss to the top of her head. “Burger’s already on the way. Double bacon. And two Sprites. One for now, one for later.”

Dulce grinned smugly, cradling her son. “Now that’s appreciation.”

As they all sat together, quiet and comfortable again, the tension eased. The love that held this wild, chaotic family together was stronger than any threat—and Dulce had just proven it in the loudest, bravest way possible.

She wasn’t “just” Zilla’s girlfriend.

She was part of the pride now. Through blood, sweat, and hands thrown in a bathroom stall.

Chapter 135: “Santa Dulce”

It was a rare crisp December morning in Samoa—the kind of day where the ocean breeze had a slight chill, just enough to justify a cozy hoodie and fluffy socks. The Fatu compound had been transformed into a holiday wonderland: wreaths on every door, lights twinkling around the lanai, and a twelve-foot Christmas tree in the center of the grand room, decked out with every ornament imaginable.

The front door burst open, and in waddled Dulce with a look of mission-focused glee. Zion, bundled up in a gingerbread man onesie, was strapped to her front in a carrier, arms flailing like he was ready to fight Santa himself.

Behind her, the door slammed again and again as she dragged in a ridiculous amount of shopping bags—Target, Macy’s, local island stores, gift bags, rolled-up wrapping paper, and boxes big enough to hold furniture.

Zion gurgled in support. Or protest. Hard to tell.

“We made it, little man,” Dulce huffed, wiping sweat from her brow. “Now let’s go be festive as hell.”

She kicked off her slides, padded toward the massive Christmas tree, and promptly began shoving the bags under it like Santa’s chaotic assistant. She had it all labeled too—Post-Its that said: For the girls, JJ & the crew, Leilei’s baby bump, Jey’s secret Santa gift (don’t touch it Jimmy), and For the twins but wrapped like it's from the kids because they’re annoying.

Once everything was stacked (and slightly toppling), she spun on her heel and headed toward the kitchen. Zion let out a squeak of delight, which she took as approval.

“Oh yeah, we’re that family now, baby boy,” Dulce said with pride, cranking up the holiday playlist on her phone. Mariah Carey hit the speakers like a war cry.

From the pantry, she whipped out flour, sugar, vanilla extract, chocolate chips, sprinkles, and pre-cut gingerbread shapes like a woman possessed. She tied on one of Tamika’s “Santa’s Favorite Thot” aprons and grabbed a mixing bowl, humming along while Zion happily kicked his feet and babbled from his carrier.

“This year, we goin’ full cookie chaos. Kids are decorating. Someone’s getting covered in frosting. Jey’s probably gonna burn a tray. All part of the experience.”

Just then, little Jasmine padded into the kitchen rubbing her eyes in her Christmas pajamas, blinking up at Dulce.

“You makin’ cookies?” she mumbled sleepily.

Dulce winked. “You bet your sweet little gingerbread booty I am. Grab your cousins—we’re making sugar and chocolate chip cookies, and y’all are about to decorate like you’re on a baking show. Winner gets first dibs on Santa’s snack plate.”

Jasmine gasped like she’d been called to destiny, and sprinted off yelling, “COOKIEEEEEEES!”

Moments later, the thunderous herd of little Fatus descended upon the kitchen like joyful chaos. And at the heart of it all, Dulce stood proudly—apron dusted in flour, her baby boy babbling from her chest, and a smirk on her lips like she knew exactly how much joy she was stirring up.

Let the Christmas madness begin.

Chapter 136: “Gingerbread & Grown Folks”

The scent hit first—sweet, buttery, warm, and unmistakably sinful. Sugar cookies. Chocolate chips. Vanilla. Sprinkles. The Fatu compound was known for wild energy and louder voices, but right now the volume was turned up in a different way.

Laughter. Screams. Frosting war cries.

One by one, the grownups started wandering out of their rooms, groggy and still in pajamas. Marsai was the first, hoodie thrown on over her tank top, eyes squinting as she followed the smell like a bloodhound.

“What in Willy Wonka’s workshop is going on in here?” she asked, stepping into the kitchen and pausing.

The entire kitchen and half the living room had been transformed into a full-blown cookie operation. A plastic folding table had been dragged out and lined with parchment paper and decorating kits. Bowls of M&Ms. Sprinkles in every color. Chocolate drizzle. Sugar pearls. Cookie cutters. Icing tubes. And about eight excited little Fatus with sticky fingers and frosting on their cheeks.

In the middle of it all was Dulce, in her “Santa’s Favorite Thot” apron, holding a spatula like a wand as she directed the chaos. And on her chest, tucked in a little carrier, was baby Zion, dressed in the most ridiculous—and adorable—gingerbread man onesie anyone had ever seen. Puffy arms, brown with white squiggles, gumdrop buttons on his belly. His little hands were balled up and flailing, and he was smiling—a big gummy, milk-drunk grin like this was the best day of his life.

“Oh my god,” Marsai said through a snort, turning back toward the hallway. “Y’all! Come see this! Bring your cameras!”

Jey stumbled in next, shirtless and scratching his chest, followed by Jimmy, Tamika, Leilapua, and Jacob with a confused yawn.

“What’s goin’—”

“Shut up, look,” Marsai pointed.

That’s when Zilla walked in.

Zilla was shirtless, still pulling on sweatpants, his hair messy and expression half-asleep. But the second his eyes locked on Dulce and his son—dressed like a snack-sized gingerbread gangster—his whole demeanor shifted.

He blinked. “Yo… what is my son wearin’?”

Dulce looked up and grinned. “The holiday fit. Obviously.”

Everyone turned to look at Zilla, waiting on the usual sarcastic comment. Instead, he just… melted. One hand on his chest, his mouth parted like he’d taken emotional damage.

“That’s my little cookie?” he said quietly.

“Gingerbread king,” Dulce corrected proudly, tickling Zion’s side. The baby let out a giggle, swinging his arms like he was boxing the air in celebration.

The room erupted in laughter.

Marsai was already taking photos. Jimmy wiped a fake tear. Tamika snorted and muttered, “I can’t take y’all seriously.” Jacob mumbled, “This baby already got more style than me,” and Leilapua was whispering to Melody about how next year she’s getting her a sugarplum tutu.

Zilla walked over, kissed Dulce’s forehead, then gently cupped Zion’s chubby gingerbread face in his hand.

“You good, little man?” he asked softly.

Zion squealed in response and latched onto Zilla’s lip with one gummy hand like it was a teether.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Zilla muttered, trying not to grin.

The grownups stood around for a beat, watching their wild family moment. It was messy. Loud. Full of flour and frosting fingerprints and kids climbing chairs to reach more sprinkles.

It was perfect.

“Y’all better roll up your sleeves,” Dulce said, tossing Zilla a piping bag. “Grownups are decorating next. And this is war. So pick your icing color wisely.”

Let the adult cookie showdown begin.

Chapter 137: “Cookies, Cubans & Christmas Chaos”

“Okay! Round two, y’all!” Dulce’s voice rang like a holiday bell, thick with chaotic cheer and a hint of command. She had flour in her baby hairs, a sprinkle stuck to her cheek, and was barefoot as hell in Christmas pajama pants. Zion let out a soft sigh in the gingerbread carrier strapped to her chest, milk-drunk and cozy against her body while his mama took charge like a sugar-fueled general.

The kids were still knee-deep in icing war. The triplets had teamed up against JJ and Messiah, Jasmine had icing in her hair and didn’t care, and Kyree was taste-testing everything within reach. But now, Dulce had set her sights on the adults.

The oven dinged behind her, and without missing a beat, she kicked it shut with her foot and turned, dragging a red Santa sack—yes, a literal oversized gift sack—across the floor like she’d robbed a bougie North Pole.

“I come bearing gifts for you grinches,” she declared dramatically, opening the sack and tossing out items like an Oprah giveaway.

“Fancy latte bombs, first of all,” she said, pulling out steaming paper cups with names written in gold Sharpie. “One peppermint mocha, two caramel brulees, a snickerdoodle cold brew—Jacob don’t say nothin’—and a gingerbread chai for the baddie that birthed the gingerbread king.”

Zilla took his with both hands, kissed her forehead again, and whispered, “Best woman alive,” while Zion made a soft coo like he agreed.

“Now. For the real grown-up goodies.” Dulce reached deeper into the sack and started passing around custom Christmas goodie bags, thick and filled to the brim. Every adult in the room suddenly perked up like sugar-deprived kids at a birthday party.

Inside each bag:

Matching fuzzy Christmas socks in red and green, embroidered with each person’s name

Favorite snacks and candies (Tamika squealed over her Flamin’ Hot mix, and Leilapua clutched her bag of Hawaiian honey butter chips like gold)

Mini bottles of their favorite alcohol, ranging from Henny to Malibu

Perfectly rolled blunts, tied with ribbon like cigars in a mafia wedding

Matching Cuban link bracelets, custom in each person's favorite color metal—gold, rose gold, black, even platinum—and engraved with the family’s crest on the inside

And last but not least… handwritten notes from Dulce, sealed in red envelopes

Nadia opened hers first and went silent. Then softly chuckled, blinking a few times and clutching the letter to her chest.

“She really wrote all of us notes?” Marsai whispered, already sniffling before she even opened hers.

“I been tryna tell y’all,” Zilla murmured with pride, arm around Dulce’s waist. “That’s my girl.”

The notes weren’t long—but they were real.

To Tamika: “For the one who reminds me I can survive anything, with a braid laid and lip gloss poppin’. Love you, mean it.”

To Jimmy: “You make me feel safe even when I’m not your responsibility. Thanks for never treating me like baggage.”

To Leilapua: “Soft doesn’t mean weak, and you show us that every day. You’re my favorite calming presence, even when you steal my snacks.”

To Zilla: “You gave me a son and reminded me I was still worthy of love. I’ll never not ride for you.”

The rest were just as personal. Thoughtful. Tender. And then it happened—Jacob stood up, motioning for everyone to raise their lattes and blunts like a champagne toast.

“To the woman who keeps feeding our kids, saving our lives, and making us look like soft fools with matching bracelets,” he grinned. “Merry Christmas, Dulce.”

“Merry Christmas!” everyone echoed, laughing, some still choked up.

Dulce blinked, overwhelmed but smirking as she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her Santa apron. “Y’all gonna make me cry and burn the next batch of cookies.”

“You better not,” Marsai said, already licking frosting off her fingers. “These snickerdoodles got me feeling spiritual.”

And just like that, the room returned to sweet chaos. The kids were eating more than decorating. Adults were sneaking blunts out onto the porch. Zilla had Zion resting on his chest, gummy smile in full effect, and Dulce—tired, emotional, high off sugar and hormones—stood in the center of the noise, quietly watching the family she never thought she’d get.

Her family.

Her tribe.

Her Fatu Christmas.

And there wasn’t one damn thing she’d change.

Chapter 138: “Bòksè, Bachata & Blessings”

The cookie war had died down to crumbs, the kids sprawled out on the living room rug in frosting comas, and the adults? Deep into blunts and lattes, laughter echoing through the Fatu compound like music.

Then—

DING DONG.

Everyone paused.

“Who rang the bell? Everybody we know already here,” Jimmy said, half-laughing, flicking his lighter closed.

Jey looked around. “Ain’t nobody say they was coming. Yo Zilla, you got people showing up unannounced?”

Zilla frowned. “Not that I—”

BAM BAM BAM! The knock was now a rhythm. Loud. Confident. Unmistakably Caribbean.

Then it started.

The moment the front door creaked open, it was like a damn cultural tidal wave hit the compound. An eruption of rapid Haitian Creole, flowing Dominican Spanish, and laughter so loud it shook the walls. Kids. Aunties. Cousins. Somebody was already singing.

And at the center of it, stood Dulce’s Dominican mama, 5’1” of tight curls, thick hips, and judgmental eyes. One hand on her hip, one arm cradling a box wrapped in plantain-themed paper.

Beside her was Dulce’s Haitian daddy, tall, dark, broad, in his Sunday best with gold rings and a proud grin as wide as his shoulders.

Dulce blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then she sprinted.

Flour still on her apron, cheeks flushed, gingerbread socks sliding across the floor, she let out a sobbing wail and threw herself into both their arms at once. Her voice cracked as she yelled in Spanish and Creole, a tangled mess of, “Mami! Papi! Ay Dios mío—I didn’t think—how did you—how’d you even find—”

“Mami know everything,” her mama said, sniffling but strong, smoothing Dulce’s curls like she was still a little girl in pigtails. “You think we wasn’t gon’ come meet our first grandson? You crazy.”

“We had to see him wit’ our own eyes,” her father rumbled in warm Haitian baritone. “And assess these... Fatus.”

That last part made the room collectively pause.

“Assess?!” Jey asked, stepping forward like a defensive big brother.

“Assess?! Like an interview?” Jimmy echoed.

The door was still wide open. And more of Dulce’s people came flooding in. Tías, tíos, cousins, loud-mouthed and well-dressed. Several coolers of Dominican food and Haitian dishes followed—kremas, griot, arroz con gandules, pastelón, pikliz, and at least three portable Bluetooth speakers, all playing different tracks: Kompa, bachata, reggaetón, and zouk.

It was chaotic Caribbean magic.

Tamika blinked. “Did this girl just import the Caribbean diaspora in one hour?”

Leilapua sipped her latte, wide-eyed. “One of the cousins asked me if we had room to set up dominoes outside.”

Nadia grinned, elbowing her. “Girl, let them set up. We Fatu—our family was overdue for a little spice.”

Meanwhile, Zilla just watched from the kitchen entrance, baby Zion still asleep on his chest, and a soft grin tugging at his lips. He hadn’t seen Dulce light up like this since before the pregnancy. She wasn’t performing, or tough, or guarded. She was just… home.

Her mama walked over, peered down at her grandson with a dramatic gasp. “Ay coño, tan bello!” she cried, already pulling out a gold bracelet with “Zion” engraved on it. “Look at this cinnamon roll! Dios me lo bendiga—he look like you, but he got his daddy ears!”

Zilla laughed, raising an eyebrow. “So I passed down my ears? That’s what I get credit for?”

“Be happy, papi,” she said, patting his chest like a proud mother-in-law. “That’s a strong trait. He gon’ hear everything.”

One of Dulce’s aunties slid up beside Jimmy with a tray of rum cake. “You married?” she asked in thick Creole-accented English.

Jimmy blinked. “Uh... yes, ma’am?”

She winked. “That’s a shame. I make good soup joumou.”

“Marsai gonna fight her,” Tamika whispered, cackling.

And Dulce?

She was now seated between her mama and papa, cheeks flushed, feet up, feeding Zion while her family swarmed the house like they’d been there for years. Every now and then, she glanced up and caught her Fatu cousins watching—confused, impressed, slightly terrified.

“You see now why I’m crazy?” she called out, laughing, biting into a pastelito. “This is where I come from.”

“You crazy, but you hella loved,” Nadia called back, lifting her cup.

“And all this for a baby you made with our quietest cousin,” Marsai said with a smirk. “Girl, your family the loudest thing in Samoa right now.”

Zilla leaned into the kitchen doorframe, arms folded, watching his girl glow in her element.

His son.

Her people.

His people now, too.

He smiled.

Christmas at the compound?

Just got real bilingual, real loud, and real unforgettable.

Chapter 139: “The Interview”

The music had calmed to a soft bachata hum, kids were knocked out in cookie comas, and most of the house was either napping or pretending to. All except Zilla, who was suddenly very, very awake—sitting upright on the Fatu patio couch like a soldier about to get court-martialed.

Across from him sat Dulce’s mama and daddy, backs straight, expressions tight. Between them sat a thick leather notebook and a clipboard. Yes—a clipboard.

Dulce? Nowhere in sight.

“You comfortable?” her dad asked coolly, adjusting the cuff of his crisp button-up shirt.

Zilla nodded, cautious. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me yet,” her mama said, crossing her legs. “This is just phase one.”

He blinked. “There’s… phases?”

“Yes,” her daddy said. “This is the interview for the position of Father to My Grandson, and possibly one day Husband to My Daughter—which, if we’re being honest, seems overdue since you already stretched her womb out with no legal commitment.”

Zilla choked slightly.

“Mami,” came Dulce’s faint voice from somewhere inside the house.

Her mama ignored her. “First question. What size pants you wear?”

Zilla blinked. “Uh—thirty-eight.”

Her father wrote it down.

“Height?”

“Six-five.”

“Bench press?”

“Four-twenty-five. On a good day.”

Her mama raised her brows. “That explains the back. Okay.”

“Favorite meal to cook?” her dad asked.

“Pork belly and garlic rice.”

Both parents looked at each other.

“Okay,” her mama muttered, impressed against her will. “How many women you been with?”

“Mami!” Dulce’s voice rang again, louder this time.

Zilla cleared his throat. “Uh. Not relevant.”

Her mama smiled tightly. “Wrong answer.”

Her daddy didn’t even blink. “Do you plan on making my daughter a wife or just keeping her in the baby mama danger zone forever?”

Zilla sat up straighter. “Sir. I love your daughter more than I love breathing. If she asked me to marry her in a gas station parking lot with a ring pop, I’d say yes before the door chimed shut. I didn’t propose yet 'cause she almost died giving birth, and I needed her to feel strong again before I gave her anything that heavy.”

That made them pause.

Her mama narrowed her eyes.

“Do you change diapers?”

“Every one.”

“You get up at night?”

“Every time she stirs.”

“You rub her feet even when she pretend she don’t need it?”

“Every single night.”

Her daddy leaned in. “Do you know how to make Haitian soup joumou and Dominican mangu?”

Zilla hesitated.

“…I could learn?”

The father leaned back. “Okay. Better answer.”

Right then the door creaked open, and Dulce shuffled outside, Zion swaddled in one arm, the other resting on her hip.

“Mami, Papi, please. You’re interrogating him like he smuggled me across borders—”

Her mom stood, kissing her cheek. “We’re protecting you, mija.”

Her dad stood too, patting Zilla on the shoulder once before whispering, “You passed this round. We’ll do the cultural test later.”

Zilla sat there, stunned and mildly sweating.

Dulce just rolled her eyes, sat on his lap with Zion between them and kissed his cheek. “Sorry about them,” she whispered. “They love me hard.”

He kissed her temple. “I ain’t scared of your people, mami.”

From the corner, her mama called out in Spanish, “You should be!”

Zilla swallowed and pulled Dulce closer.

“…Okay, maybe a little.”

Chapter 140: “Cousins, Chaos, and Cackling Aunties”

It was mid-afternoon chaos. The compound had become a swirling, laughing, mouth-smacking cultural explosion—Haitian and Dominican voices layering over the constant thrum of Samoan banter, kids running, music flipping between Kompa and Reggaetón, and everyone trying to out-feed each other.

In the eye of this festive storm stood Dulce, bouncing baby Zion in her arms while talking to Marsai and Leilapua when she heard it—

“DULCE!”

She turned—too late.

Her Haitian auntie, Tatie Myrlande, a thick woman with bold lipstick and earrings bigger than her fist, had Jey’s whole face squished between her palms, fingers pressing into his cheeks like playdough.

“This one! This one right here, baby!” she declared, eyes wide, lips pursed. “This one look like sexy mafia man—brutal but with deep trauma! Look at the neck! Look at the tattoos! You should have had baby with this one!”

Dulce froze, face flaming red as a chili pepper, as Jey blinked in absolute confusion, trapped in a situation he couldn’t fight without disrespecting an elder.

“Auntie—he’s married,” Dulce sputtered, gesturing desperately to Nadia, who was doubled over laughing behind them.

“Oh please,” Myrlande scoffed, still holding Jey’s jaw. “Marriage is a contract. Lust is eternal.”

Dulce’s jaw dropped. “TATIE!”

But it got worse. Because her Dominican Tía Belkis, loud and dressed like she was going to the club even at a family cookout, strolled up next—with Sefa in tow.

“Mija, ¿y este?” Belkis crooned, already holding the side of Sefa’s face like she was about to kiss his forehead and bless him.

“Mira! Look at the size of him! The bigger the man—the bigger the di—”

“TIA!” Dulce screeched, locking up mid-breath, face beet red, Zion squirming in her arms while the entire group of Fatu cousins turned toward the chaos like lions clocking meat.

Sefa looked like he was debating whether to laugh or run.

Jimmy dropped his drink.

Zilla?

Zilla was leaned on the grill, dead silent, head cocked as he watched with the quiet stillness of a man trying very hard not to throw someone in a trash can.

“Dulce, you got all these big men hanging around you like a buffet plate!” Tatie Myrlande added, now patting Jimmy’s cheek. “You better pick fast before they start fighting like roosters!”

“Lord Jesus,” Dulce groaned, hiding her face in Zion’s blanket.

From across the patio, Nadia snorted, “It’s the cheeks clenchin’ on Zilla for me.”

Marsai was breathless, doubled over, “She said sexy mafia man! I can’t—!”

Zilla finally pushed off the grill, sauntering over like a storm cloud, gently took Zion out of Dulce’s arms, and kissed her temple.

“My son’s gonna need therapy if y’all keep talking like that,” he muttered, giving Tía Belkis a polite nod—only because Dulce would yell at him if he didn’t.

Tía Belkis waved a hand. “Don’t be jealous, baby. You already got the prize. Just don’t let her forget it.”

Dulce shrieked again, smacking her own forehead and marching off toward the house. “I hate y’all!”

“Love you too, mija!” her mama called after her. “Tell your man to hurry with that ring!”

Zilla looked at his son, who gave him a slow blink and a big baby yawn.

“…You see this?” Zilla whispered to Zion. “Your mama’s people are wild.”

Zion let out a little giggle and reached for his daddy’s lip.

Zilla sighed.

“Yeah, you right. Still love her.”

Chapter 141: “Abuela’s Blessing… Sort Of”

Zilla didn’t even see her coming.

He was standing near the deck, bouncing Zion lightly in his arms, finally thinking the storm of Dulce’s family had calmed—when he felt a grip around his waist like a vise made of steel and grandma perfume.

“Ay, mi nieta… this the one?” a raspy, heavily accented voice asked right against his shoulder.

Zilla blinked. Slowly turned. And saw her.

Abuela Dominga.

Tiny, wide, and strong as an ox, she was dressed in an old church outfit, gold hoops nearly touching her shoulders, rosary wrapped around one wrist, and a wig curled into oblivion. She had Zion’s foot in one hand and Zilla’s entire midsection in the other, her face squished into his bicep like she was evaluating meat.

“This the one?” she asked again, louder now, addressing Dulce who was barely recovering from her aunties’ chaos inside the house.

“Abuela—” Dulce started, wide-eyed.

“¡Cállate! I like this one.” Dominga turned back to Zilla, now patting his chest, his arm, his abs. “He got that fire… those eyes—loco eyes. I can tell. He got the kinda crazy that would stab a man over your coochie, mija.”

Zilla choked on absolutely nothing. Jimmy, Jey, and Sefa—within earshot—bent over wheezing.

“Excuse me?!” Dulce yelped, her whole body locking up as she ran over. “Abuela, please!”

“I’m just saying!” Dominga snapped. “You need a man who look like he ready to die and kill over you! This one?” She thumped Zilla’s chest hard. “He look like he’ll murder someone over your panties and still be home by dinner.”

Zilla stood there holding Zion, speechless, because what exactly do you say to a grandma telling you she likes your stabby energy?

But Dominga wasn’t done.

“Nice body,” she muttered, squinting at his arms. “Mmhm. I bet he got at least ten more years in him. Give me grandbabies! I want a whole choir!”

“Abuela, please,” Dulce hissed, face beet red, hands flying everywhere, eyes darting to Zilla’s cousins who were absolutely dying in the background.

“Zilla gon’ pass out,” Marsai cackled.

“He ain't blinked in two minutes,” Jey wheezed.

“I’m tryna figure out if that’s pride or fear on his face,” Sefa added.

Zilla finally exhaled, looked down at Zion—who, no help at all, was blowing spit bubbles and giggling like his grandma hadn’t just threatened generational fertility.

He cleared his throat. “Uh… gracias, Abuela.”

Dominga grinned, slapped his back, and waddled off like she hadn’t just thrown a verbal grenade into the compound.

Dulce covered her face. “I’m never recovering.”

Zilla smirked and leaned into her ear. “Ten more years, huh?”

She punched his chest.

“I hate my family.”

He kissed her cheek. “I love them.” Then, with a wicked grin— “Especially if they right about the ten years.”

Her eyes snapped wide.

“Zilla!”

Chapter 142: “Zilla's Secret Talent”

The smell of fried plantains, spiced sausage, and coconut oil hit Dulce before her eyes even fully opened.

Sunlight spilled through the curtains, and somewhere outside, she could hear laughter, clapping, and loud music—realmusic. Not just something off a Bluetooth speaker, no. Live, vibrant, full-body-shaking music, the kind that made your bones want to move whether you were ready or not.

She rubbed her face, stretched out sore and stiff, and blinked toward the clock.

“9:24… in the morning?”

The music swelled—fast meringue, the percussion sharp and bold, the horns alive. And over it all? She heard the most disrespectful sound possible at that hour.

Her mama’s laugh.

Dulce scrambled to her feet, dragging a hoodie over her tank top and tugging shorts on, hair a mess in a satin scarf, one sock on and one off as she flung open the door—

And froze on the porch.

A massive white tent had been set up on the compound lawn, strung with red, green, and gold streamers, folding tables covered in Dominican and Haitian breakfast dishes, drinks, and blunts. There were more family members out now—some she hadn’t even remembered arriving last night—but none of them mattered.

Because in the middle of the grass floor, with that devilish little half-smile on his face…

Zilla was spinning her mother in perfect sync to meringue.

“¡Wepa!” her mother called, tossing her head back, clapping her hands. “Ay, coño, this one can move!”

“ISAYAH?!”

Dulce’s voice broke. Not from anger—no, not even embarrassment.

Just pure, jaw-dropped shock.

Zilla looked over his shoulder mid-twirl, sweat on his forehead, and smirked like the smoothest man alive. “Morning, mama.”

She stared. “You dance?”

He winked. “Apparently.”

Then came the real setup.

The DJ switched up. Haitian kompa dropped in, bass heavy, the kind that made hips swing and aunties turn into absolute problems. One of her Haitian aunties shrieked, grabbing Zilla’s hand with a bold grin and dragging him into the new rhythm.

And he kept up. Every step. Hip rolls, shoulder dips, fluid turns—like he’d grown up in Little Haiti, not Samoa.

“Go ‘head baby daddy!” one cousin screamed.

Another auntie was fanning herself. “I knew he had the sauce!”

Dulce just stood there like her soul left her body. She was glitching.

“Zilla… ZILLA WHAT IS THIS?!”

He turned again, this time locking eyes with her over his auntie dance partner’s shoulder, and gave her a slow shrug, as if to say:

“You thought I only knew how to fight?”

She slapped both hands to her cheeks. “I’m having a stroke.”

The tias were clapping. Her Haitian aunties were yelling in Creole. Her Dominican mama? Cheering.

“¡Eso! ¡Eso! ¡Ese es tu hombre! Look at those hips, Dulce!”

“HE’S SAMOAN!!” she yelled helplessly.

“And he’s doing it better than your cousins!” her mom shot back.

Zilla laughed, bowing politely as his “set” ended, walking over to her with a gleam in his eye and sweat shining on his jawline.

“You good, baby?” he asked, voice teasing.

Dulce just pointed at him, then the dance floor, then him again. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

He kissed her cheek, pulled her in by the waist, and murmured low against her ear, “I learned for you. You ain't the only one bringing your culture into this family.”

And just like that, she melted. Boneless. Fully cooked.

“Zilla…” she whispered, overwhelmed.

He grinned. “Come dance with me, mama.”

She nodded helplessly, muttering, “I’m still mad, though…”

Zilla smirked. “You always mad. That’s why I love you.”

Chapter 143: “First Dance Practice”

The DJ didn’t even pause.

As soon as the Haitian kompa faded, a smooth bachata rhythm rolled in—Romantic, slow, and a little cocky, like it knew it had no business hitting so hard at ten in the morning.

Dulce had just finished muttering under her breath about Zilla’s secret moves when he took her hand again and pulled her back toward the tent’s center.

“Nah, nuh-uh—don’t play with me, Isayah,” she warned, squinting at him.

“What?” he said, pretending innocence. “You know how to dance. I’m just trying to catch up.”

Her fingers laced with his automatically, her hips already starting to follow the beat, no matter how much her brain protested. “Since when do you know how to dance bachata, Zilla?”

He leaned down, his breath warm against her cheek as he murmured, “Since I fell in love with a woman who hums Aventura songs in the kitchen like it’s a damn lullaby.”

Dulce choked on air. “Zilla—”

He didn’t give her time to recover.

One hand found the small of her back, the other held her hand steady, and he led. Not just stomping around. He moved. Smooth. Confident. Natural. Their bodies fit together like a lock and key, their feet stepping together in time with the beat—1-2-3, tap—hips swaying, torsos just brushing.

Her breath caught in her throat, but not from nerves. From how damn good he was.

From the side of the tent, her mom elbowed her dad, whispering loudly in Spanish, “Mira eso, that’s wedding energy!”

One of her tias gasped. “Ay Dios, ese hombre was made for her.”

Jimmy leaned in toward Jey and muttered, “This look like some first dance choreography, not casual breakfast vibes.”

Jey smirked. “Yeah, bro. He gone propose. I see it in his step.”

Marsai had her phone out filming, lips pressed tight to keep from squealing. “I’m posting this. I don’t care.”

Meanwhile, Sefa was yelling, “OKAY FANCY FOOTWORK—DAMN!”

Zilla spun Dulce back into his chest, their eyes locking.

“You laughing now, but you’re shook,” he murmured.

Dulce was laughing, but her cheeks were bright pink, her eyes shining, curls bouncing with every turn.

“Shut up,” she said between giggles. “Who the hell are you?”

“The man you said you wanted,” he grinned.

Their bodies flowed like they’d done this a hundred times before.

In truth? It was the first. But with the way Zilla was holding her… leading her… gazing at her like he already had her last name tattooed on his chest…

Everyone watching knew.

This wasn’t just a dance.

It was a preview.

And when the song ended, and he dipped her slightly, grinning at the shocked but blissed-out look on her face, Jey whispered to Jimmy across the table:

“Damn. That man just rehearsed his wedding.”