#this woman raised her for 21 years(yes she still needed raising in her 30s)

[flxmekeepr]

&  juliette + walker .    —     01     /    ??       mutuals   can   reblog.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[sorrelchestnut]

EVERYBODY’S PICKIN’ UP ON THAT FELINE BEAT, PART 39/39

So, uh.  This seems to be, well.  Done.

I still need to sit on it a bit before I can make the final round of edits - and if there’s anyone out there who would be interested in doing a general readability edit on the last chapter, please let me know - but somehow, against all the odds, after more than a 100k words and very nearly six fucking years, I have finished this fic.

Shit, I don’t even know what to do with myself now.

Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Part 4.  Part 5.  Part 6.  Part 7.  Part 8.  Part 9.  Part 10.  Part 11. Part 12.  Part 13.  Part 14.  Part 15.  Part 16.  Part 17.  Part 18.  Part 19. Part 20.  Part 21.  Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. Part 25. Part 26.  Part 27. Part 28. Part 29. Part 30. Part 31. Part 32. Part 33.  Part 34. Part 35. Part 36. Part 37. Part 38.

Title: everybody’s picking up on that feline beat Author: Sorrel Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: None Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor Series: Part 3 of everybody wants to be a cat

The Rail’s just starting to fill up when he walks in, the usual crowd of drifters with just enough caps for a hot meal mingling with the off-duty guards still hanging around from their late lunch.  Magnolia isn’t on stage yet, but he can see one of Charlie’s goons dragging the equipment up from the back, so she’s definitely on tonight.  

He doesn't bother trying to scan the crowd for a familiar mop of dark hair; she's only rarely in the mood for that kind of company, and he doesn't think tonight of all nights is gonna be the exception.  Instead he just elbows his way through and up to the bar and flags down Charlie, who eyes him with one curious eye stalk.  "You look nervous, guv.  Big deal afoot?"

"The biggest," Deacon says with a flash of a smile, and flips him a couple caps.  "Two beers and a shot, please."

"Sure, that'll sweeten the pot," Charlie agrees, and then gives him a look that would be a raised brow if he had one as Deacon immediately downs the shot.  "Wet your whistle, ay?  Must be some trouble you're trying to talk yourself out of."

"Into," Deacon corrects, and picks up the beers by the necks.  "Wish me luck."

A robotic burble that might be a laugh essays from Charlie's speakers as Deacon turns away.  "Luck, guv!" he hears behind him, and smiles to himself as he wades back into the crowd.

It doesn't take him long to locate his target.  The back tables aren't crowded yet, this early in the evening, and he'd know the sturdy shape of her shoulders anywhere.  Right now they're slumped in a way that probably reads drunk to someone who doesn't know her so well.  She looks so tired, alone in her dark corner.  What a fucking day she's had.  And what a piece of shit he was, making it worse.

"Evening, ma'am.  This seat taken?"

She's slow to look up, though he can see the recognition in the angle of her head.  He wonders if she, in turn, can see the way his pulse is pounding in his ears.

"D-"  She almost slips.  Whisper never slips, never, but she almost does it now, he can see her lips forming the first letter of his name.  "Depends," she says instead, recovering smoothly enough, but her gaze is still wary when it meets his.  "You got business for me?  'cause I ain't looking for company."

That fast, she read him and downshifted to match, easy as breathing.  God, she really is the perfect woman.

"Yes ma'am, that's right.  A Mister Valentine gave me your direction, said you could use a hand with a job."

The slightest flicker of her eyes is the only thing that betrays her consternation.  "Did he now."

"Yes ma'am," he says again.  "Said it was a real big job, too.  With a payout to match."

A muscle ticks at the hinge of her jaw.  "And that's why you're here?  The payout?"

"Well, the thing is, Miss…  Sorry, he never told me your name."

"Olivia," she says, after the barest hesitation.  "Olivia Bailey."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am.  John Daniels," and somehow, by some miracle, neither his voice nor his hand wobbles as he thrusts it out for her to shake.  "At your service."

Her eyes widen as shock stamps itself across her features.  It's just for a moment, before she catches herself and shuts it down again, but Deacon knows he's gonna savor it for the rest of his life.

"We'll see about that, Mister Daniels," she says, and gives his hand a brief, professional handshake before she gestures languidly at the seat across from her.  "Now, you were saying?"

Deacon flexes his tingling hand and slides gratefully into the indicated chair, not sure how much longer his shaking knees were going to hold him.  "Well, it's like this, Miz Bailey.  Uh, this is for you," and he sets the other beer in front of her.  "The truth of the matter is, I'm looking for an excuse to get out of town for a while, if you take my meanin'."  His accent thickens as he feels his way into the bit, letting impulse carry the way because he sure as shit didn't plan any of this out in advance.  "Had some trouble with some- well it's a real long story, but the point is, I'm looking for a job that'll take me out of the Commonwealth for a bit.  Let some of the fuss die down, you know.  And from what Mr. Valentine said, seems you could use a bit of company of your own.  Seems to me like maybe we could make a deal."

"Is that so."  She studies him for a long moment, her face unreadable now as she plays with the neck of the beer bottle.  "Well the problem with that, John-  Can I call you John?"

His pulse throbs in his ears.  "Feel free."

"The problem, John, is that Mister Valentine might have misrepresented the job just a tad.  You see, the place I'm heading, people don't tend to come back.  It's bad enough I'm putting myself at risk.  I couldn't in good conscience drag someone else along to die on my fool's errand."

Under the table his hand tightens into a fist, but Deacon keeps his voice steady as he says, "I understand, ma'am.  Better than you know.  Been on my own a long damn time, and you know what I learned?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"I learned that some jobs are just too big for one person.  You're better off with a partner who can watch your back."

She finally looks away at that, taking a sip of her beer to cover.  When she looks back he's waiting, his trembling hands palm-up in front of him.  Cards on the table.

"Is that what you think I need?  A partner?"

"I hope so," he tells her, his heart in his throat.  "I'm not looking to get in your way, and I'm not looking to make things harder.  But if you're asking me what I want, then yeah.  I'd like to stick around for a while.  If you let me."

After a moment, she says, "Deacon."

He swallows hard.  "Yeah."

She bites her lip.  "I really don't know what I'm doing."

His heart breaks for her, just a little bit.  "You know, a good friend once gave me some pretty good advice.  She told me, you do what you gotta in order to survive.  One foot in front of the other, partner.  Long as it takes."

She looks down at the table, at the litter of beer bottles, at his open hands.  Slowly, so slowly he's afraid she's going to change her mind at any moment, she inches her hand across the tabletop until they're resting just inside his waiting palm.  When he closes his fingers around hers, she closes her eyes and he watches her throat bob in a swallow.

Her voice is hoarse when she says, "A good friend, huh?"

"The best."

When she opens her eyes again, they're shining in the lantern light.  "Well then, Mister Daniels," she says, and gives his hand one last squeeze before she slips away.  "It sounds to me like we've got ourselves a deal."

"Yes ma'am," he says, and doesn't even bother trying to hide his answering grin as he stretches out one leg to knock the toe of his boot against hers.  "It seems that we have."

She knocks back, slouching further into her chair until she's achieved something closer to her usual insouciant lean.  They're not touching anywhere but the press of her booted ankle against his, but that doesn't matter.  He knows exactly where they stand.

"Hey, I almost forgot to ask.  Where exactly are we headed, anyway?"

"Oh, didn't I mention?" she says airily, as if Whisper would ever forget.  "The Glowing Sea."

He tries to make sense of that.  He doesn't try for very long.  "What the hell for?"

"It's a long story, partner," she says, and grins at him over the top of her glass.  "I'll tell you on the way."

*****

“Hey boss, message for you!”

Desdemona catches the message tube Drummer Boy tosses to her, frowning down at the seal on the end.  The only person she knows who uses that particular type of murky brown wax is Deacon, but he doesn’t usually send message runners back to HQ.  Either he leaves his reports at a dead drop or - more often, these days, thanks to Whisper's influence - he’ll deign to show his face and give his report in person.  A break in protocol like this is... disconcerting.  To say the least.

She opens the message tube with a quick twist of her wrist and pulls out the report inside.  TOP SECRET is stamped across the outside with Amari’s authorization code next to it, and Desdemona studies it for a moment, wondering why Deacon is sending her a report she’d get from Amari in two or three days anyway, before she notices the folded piece of paper clipped to the side.  Boss Lady is scribbled across the front, with the obnoxiously childish scrawl Deacon uses when he’s being particularly irritating, and so she’s already frowning when she tugs it loose and unfolds it to reveal Whisper’s neater hand in bold black ink.

Gone fishing.

xoxo,

D&W

[reylofanfictionanthology]

TO FIND YOUR KISS IS NOW LIVE!  

Authors will be revealed next week!  For now all fics are anonymous.  Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21.  We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars for abbytheatre08

The prompt: After Ben's death, Rey goes mad and turns to the dark side. Only Ben's not dead anymore. ----------------------- She is consuming fire, magnificent in her rage. She will burn the galaxy to its foundations, until the ashes rain down and pile high as mountains. She will gather them into bouquets and scatter them like petals upon his grave.

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained for AlwaysEverlark

The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.

They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.

The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions for Andrina_Nightshade

After visiting an old Sith temple, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has fallen into a deep sleep when he pricks his finger on the point of a red crystal. Rey become is the first to find him, but his rescuer isn't just any general or pilot, it's the woman he shares a soul with, who haunts his waking hours, who still sees him even in his sleep.

- The Dyad for aneighthdomain

Based of the Prompt: Groundhog Day scenario. Ben and Rey keep getting sent back to the first time they met and no matter what they do, Ben always dies so they stop trying to change events and just live a life time in the year between and couple of weeks and run away together.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains for AnneAnna

- The Delegation for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- i don't want you like a best friend for anopendoor

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose told her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, she just didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In for Blueyedgurl

Never in her wildest dreams did Rey Johnson think she would ever get to meet her favorite other Kylo Ren. She also would have never entertained the idea of the scenario she found herself in. How did a hike in the woods lead to a snowstorm and taking shelter in a remote cabin in the woods? The idea was so ridiculous but had become reality. Stuck inside with a handsome stranger surrounded by a winter storm, Rey wonders what will happen with no power and only one bed. Will they be polite co-habitants stuck in a strange set of circumstances or is there room for something more?

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance for Crysania

When Rey and Ben, long time co-workers who have never been able to admit their feelings to each other, go on a weekend retreat to work on a movie adaptation script together, a Nor’easter leaves them snowed in. On Valentine’s Day.

- Awake for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) for DoorKeeper9

- The Canvas of Your Skin for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- Fleeing the Storm for driverfever

As the granddaughter of an merciless aristocrat, Rey’s life hangs on a thread at the hands of the French Revolutionaries. When her childhood friend, Ben, offers to platonically marry her in order to take her to his home in England to safety, she has no choice but to accept.

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure for dustoftheancients

When Princess Rey of Coruscant calls upon the cursed Sir Kylo Ren to help her escape her grandfather the emperor’s political machinations, she discovers freedom in the ancient familial magic that binds them together.

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability for Evangel10n

Benimina Solo has never, not even once, had an ounce of Force Sensitivity. She's done a great deal to move on with her life after failing out of her uncle's Jedi training school. So when Rey Palpatine comes into her life and suddenly everything changes, she's not a happy camper.

- Splatter for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary for firelord65

Kaydel pressed her lips together in a thin line, passing a pile of datapads over the desk. “I don’t know what that pretentious nerf herder has put into your brain, but these are tales of the key roles women have played in past rebellions.” She stood, tapping the pile. “They’re great reads,” she added, with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

- and they danced across the sky for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable for HopeRebel

The woman in the mirror has blood on her clothes, cash in her bag, and a letter from her husband telling her it's better to forget. Well, he got his wish. She forgot everything-- including her name. And she wasn't the only one afflicted.

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh for irridesca

During the last song in Maxine’s set, a song she announces is called “Soul Companion,” Ben heads back out to the lobby to look for Rey. He finds her not with his eyes but with one broad shoulder, when he bumps into her and knocks her gig bag out of her hands and onto the plush carpet.

- and they were roommates for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- If You Take Me for literallynoonecares

She sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- 3 Days in Vienna for Like_A_Dove

Kylo Ren, trained mercenary Alpha assassin, is on a mission—assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and bring his underground authoritarian regime to an end. It’s what the First Order demands, for the better of society.

It should be an easy task. He’s been getting close to the Chancellor and his cronies for years. So how is it that the unexpected appearance of an Omega, with a seemingly similar mission—and a wholly inconveniencing scent—become a distraction he hadn’t accounted for?

- Confidence and Desire for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves for LRRH17

No one knows since when the giant, black bear has lived in the forest near Theed. Many stories about the origin of Kylo Ren circulate in the small village. After Rey has run away from Jakku, and arrived in Theed she has heard them all of, but has never actually meet the creature. This changes when her and her friends get attacked by bandits on their way back from Otoh Gunga.

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side for Lutrosis

Rey's daughter loses her mother as she wanders around the Supermarket. Ben finds her and the two connect over both being Type 1 diabetics. They find Rey, and Ben and Rey are instantly smitten. As they date and fall in love they discover that Jade and Ben are connected more than they thought and healing is brought to the Solo/Skywalker clan.

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life for maq_moon

“Boys, please stop arguing.” Rose rubbed her temples. “Poe, we get it, you’re childhood best buddies, you’ve got a better grasp on his character than some rando of a rando you met at a party. Finn, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been working with Ben for months. I’m pretty sure if he’s a serial killer or whatever, it would have come out by now.” Finn sat back in his seat, grumbling. “Not how serial killers work.” Rey was going to have a headache if this continued any longer, so she lied through her teeth at the reality of a new player joining their D&D party. "He seems nice." She didn’t trust a single inch of skin on that man. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

- A Mad Man, with a Box for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In for midwinterspring

Kylo Ren, the mysterious senator who appeared from out of the deserts of Jakku and somehow brought them back to life, has spent a long and unproductive session on Hosnian Prime. Now, it's time to go home. After all, there's someone waiting for him and so much for them to do together.

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party for MissCoppelia

Rey goes back to visit her foster mother for a Purim celebration. She meets Ben Solo who's visiting his parents, who are friends with her foster mother. They have an attraction to each other right away, but try to play it cool.

- The Banished Heart for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

Jakku is a withering outpost of the kingdom, and its people hope the new wizard - the mysterious Kylo Ren - will bring them the rains the land needs to heal. Rey is a lonely, clanless girl living in Niima, and she has a secret. One she hopes the wizard will be able to help her with too.

- The Smuggler's Bride for MyJediLife

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- Annabel Lee for myownlittleinfinity

Rey keeps finding these ... notes in her locker. She doesn't quite get them. They seem like love notes, but she doesn't know who they could be from. Meanwhile she's paired up with Ben Solo (who hates her despite her gigantic crush on him) for this English assignment. Who knows how THIS will go.

- with my body i thee worship for niennathegrey

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- the losing game for no_big_deal

Sith Princess Rey Palpatine is given a peculiar gift for her Life Day: a Jedi. Not only that, one who is boorish, spirited, and stubborn. But, he presents an opportunity: one that could liberate her from a life under the thumb of her grandfather. She has seven weeks to change his heart before all her freedom is taken from her - forever.

- standing right in front of you for notkellymarie

When Senator Solo's engagement is pushed forward, he and his Jedi bodyguard, Rey, travel to Naboo alone for the announcement ball. The pair despise each other, constantly bickering and disagreeing with each other, which makes spending extensive amounts of time alone together all that more difficult. Until of course, one of them breaks...

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling for OccasionallyCreative

Ben Solo is a seasoned smuggler. And he’s not bad at it, either. But when bounty hunter Rey offers him a temporary partnership he can’t refuse, Ben will find himself pushed to the limits of his skill, patience, and resourcefulness on a job that’s dangerous enough to be his last.

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war for politicalpadmé

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. “Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” ~

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You for Prix

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. She was starting to show, and her friends would start asking questions. She would have to give them answers, some of them would not understand, and none of them would accept.

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

During her search for the infamous Luke Skywalker — the man who predicted a devastating earthquake in New Madrid, Missouri — Rey finds herself entangled in Luke’s family history and with his brooding nephew, Ben Solo.

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer for Reykenobi68

Rey had started to get used to Ben not living next door anymore by the time the holidays came around. Then he's back for the holidays. Rey is really expecting things to go wrong after the way he left at the end of the summer. ut is it really going to be that bad.

- The Long Way Home for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings.  It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight for shariling

I don't know why I followed you here. She wanted to reply. Maybe because you're so tall I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe it's because of your hair or the way you move, or maybe it's because of that kind of melancholic look in your eyes. There is something about you that I find terribly attractive and I don’t know what it is: maybe the moon or the alcohol or the wolf I have met before infected me with some strange parasite and now I am hopelessly attracted to dogs, I do not know. She could have said one of these things, any of them, instead she said: “I've never bitten anyone before, and I want you to be my first.”

- Fallen for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

It's impossible not to have a soulmark. It's not a big deal, not in the lax and gin-soaked speakeasies of 1920s Manhattan, but it's still a heavy weight to bear, as Ben Solo and Rey find out side by side.

- Lips Raw With Love for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes for Takekurabehime

Jedi Knight Ben Solo is sent to Naboo on an errand of mercy (and to visit his grandparents). He arrives in springtime; but will he be able to complete his mission without finding himself distracted and bewildered when love and intrigue waft through the fragrant air?

- Glitter & Gold for TearoomSaloon

Rey is lead singer in an up-and-coming glam metal band. They've finally got steady performances, but that means playing at the same club as the Knights of Ren, whose lead singer definitely isn't interested in any competition.

- To kiss like lovers do for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Ben and Rey spend their formative years growing up together in Medieval Scotland and it looks like they will end up together. Circumstances intervene and Rey loses her chance to be with him. Devastated, she carries on until the day clan Ren attacks Castle Jakku lead by the notorious killer Kylo Ren.

- Snow Turns To Rain for thehobbem

For a moment, he wanted to ask what she meant, but if he was being completely honest, he already knew.  He asked himself that same question over the years, and none more often than tonight, since seeing her again.  Was leaving worth it?  Was going their separate ways worth leaving each other?

 “I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head.  “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work.  I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

 “But?”

 “But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

“What do you mean no one goes in there?” A chuckle. “It’s haunted. People see all sorts of weird things in there and some don’t ever come out. You’re better off living with your curiosity.” Rey wakes in a shadowy forest with no memory of where she came from, only her name. With the help of the resident guardian she takes a journey to figure out her past, and maybe even discover her future.

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) for Thursdaygirl

As they continue to work together, two things become clear. One: Ben Solo is an enigma. He’s preppy yet humble, privileged yet introspective. He’s the opposite of lazy; she kicks herself every day for assuming otherwise. And two: Ben Solo will never love her.

- show me the stars. for tmwillson3

“I don’t hate Christmas, I just don’t love it the way you do.” Lifting his head, he pulls a face, loosening up a tangled ornament of a poodle with pink, curly fluff. Rey snatches it from him possessively, tossing it back to the cart. “No one loves it the way you do, to be fair.”

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) for writergenie

In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait, Rey struggles to find her place among the Resistance. However, her lingering Force bond with Kylo— Ben— whatever name he calls himself— complicates things, blurring the line between friend and foe.

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) for XarisEirene

The bond snaps back into place, even stronger than before. He is here. With Rey, yes, but with Luke - Luke, who is looking at them now with that same dangerous glint in his eye that haunts Ben’s dreams.

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.

[the-slytherin-writer-12]

Best Daughter Ever: Chapter 1 “I am Iron Man” pt 1

A/N: this story is kind of going to be an AU. There are specific things that will happen in this story that aren’t canon and there are things that won’t happen that are canon. For example, in the future Steve is going to be closer to Tony and Y/N than in the canon MCU. I hope all of this makes sense. Also, let me know if you would like to be included in my taglist. 

Word count: 3,652

General Masterlist

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2008

Y/N sat in the living room of the Malibu house. Her dad was supposed to be on a plane to Afghanistan for a weapons presentation. But, being Tony Stark, he was in his lab working on his hot rod. 

Taking over Stark Industries had definitely been hard on Tony back when he was 21. But getting married at 30 and having a kid at 30 was stressful as well. Not to mention that his wife died and he was a single parent. Tony had lost himself in grief and stress. He gambled, he drank, and he spent a lot of his time in his garage. But he did make sure to spend time with his daughter. 

Pepper just walked in with the clothes of some woman that spent the night. Y/N figured it was a friend of her dad’s, but she wasn’t so sure about the ‘friend’ part because she was wearing her dad’s shirt from last night with nothing under it but her undergarments. As to not get in trouble for eavesdropping, she placed some wireless headphones on and played ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ on her StarkTablet. 

“I’ve got your clothes here. They’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you’d like to go,” Pepper spoke professionally. Anyone looking at her, whether they knew her or not, could tell that she was uncomfortable. 

The lady walked forward. 

“You must be the famous Pepper Potts,” she spoke. Pepper smiled and clasped her hands together. 

“Indeed I am.”

“After all these years, Tony still has you picking up his laundry?” The woman jabbed. Pepper looked shocked but quickly recovered.

“I do anything and everything Mr. Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?” she asked sweetly. The woman looked taken aback but cleared her throat, turned around, and walked away. 

Y/N looked up from her tablet and met Pepper’s smirk. 

“How’d I do?” Pepper asked. Y/N looked back down and shrugged. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Auntie Pep,” The little girl said, looking back up and flashing her a charming Stark smile and batted her eyelashes. Pepper chuckled and held a hand out to the little Stark. 

“You are your father’s daughter. Come on. Let’s go get your dad,” she laughed. Y/N took off her headphones and set them down along with the tablet. She got off the couch and took Pepper’s hand. 

As the two were walking down the stairs, Pepper got a phone call. Y/N chuckled as she heard Tony’s music blasting throughout the garage. 

Pepper punched in her access code and walked in, making J.A.R.V.I.S pause the music that was blasting. 

“Please don’t turn down my music,” Tony said, not looking up from what he was working on. 

“Come, on Daddy. That song wasn’t even good,” Y/N said, letting go of Pepper’s hand and walking over to her dad. Tony turned around and smiled at his daughter, hoisting her up to sit in his lap with an exaggerated grunt. 

“When did you get so big, missy?” He teased. Y/N giggled and playfully hit her dad on her shoulder, causing him to gasp and feign hurt. 

“You’re supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” Pepper said, after putting her phone away. 

“How’d she take it?” 

“Like a champ,” responded Pepper. Tony lifted up a cover of some sort that went on his car. Y/N watched in admiration as her dad fixed the old car. 

“Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” Pepper said exasperatedly. Tony put the cover he was looking at down beside him and looked back at the car motor. He pointed out quietly what was what to Y/N who nodded and listened with intrigued eyes.

“That’s funny, I thought that with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there,” Tony remarked Y/N giggled, which caused Tony to look at her and smile again. He kissed her cheek, making her squirm away because his goatee was scratchy.

“Don’t encourage him!” Pepper playfully snapped. This caused Y/N to giggle again, but she nodded nonetheless. “Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple of things before I get you out of the door.”

“I mean, doesn’t it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?” Tony continued, setting Y/N down and standing up from his stool.

The two adults continued to talk about business stuff while Y/N walked around her dad’s shop. She knew her way around it, but it still amazed her each time. Her father truly was a genius. 

As she walked to a metal table, she sat down on a stool. 

“Hello, Miss Stark,” J.A.R.V. I.S spoke. 

“Hello, JARVIS,” the little girl replied softly. 

She listened in on her dad’s conversation, something about buying something unnecessary. 

“I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday,” Pepper said. 

“Oh! Daddy it’s Pepper’s birthday!” Y/N called out cheekily. Tony rolled his eyes at his daughter but smiled. 

“I caught that,” he said. “I knew it was. Already?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that strange? It’s the same day as last year,” Pepper said teasingly. Tony looked at her adoringly. 

“Get yourself something nice from me,” he said softly. Pepper smirked. 

“I already did.”

“And?”

“Oh, it was very nice. Very tasteful. Thank you, mister Stark,” Pepper said, smiling. Tony smiled bacl. 

“You’re welcom, Miss Potts,” Tony replied. Y/N coughed. 

“Daddy, don’t you have a plan to catch for halfway around the world?” Y/N teased, breaking the silence. 

Tony turned to his daughter and stalked toward her playfully. 

“Are you trying to get rid of my, princess?” He asked, getting closer. Y/N squealed and got off the stool, running away from him. 

Tony let out a playful roar and caught up to her, picking her up from behind and blowing raspberries on her neck. Y/N squealed as he did so, squirming. 

“Daddy, stop!” 

“Never!” 

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

As the two Starks drove down the highway towards the airport, metal music blasted. Tony never liked going anywhere without his daughter, considering that’s how his wife ended up dead. But, there was no possible way that he was taking his daughter to Afghanistan. 

Speeding into the airport with Happy behind them, Tony came to a screeching halt. Y/N looked up at the plan and saw Rhodey standing at the top of the stairs. 

“Hey, Uncle Rhodey!” Y/N screamed from the passenger side of the car. Rhoday chuckled and waved back. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

Tony got out, laughing. 

“You’re good. Oh, I thought I lost you back there,” he called out to Happy as he got out of the car. Happy opened the trunk to the black car and got Tony’s lugage out. 

“You did, sir. I had to cut across Mullahound,” Happy said dryly. Tony nodded and walked around to where Y/N stood in front of the Audi. He crouched down and took his daughter’s hands. 

“Alright, baby. I’ve got to go,” He said, looking into her e/c eyes. Y/N pouted. 

“Do you have to?” she whined. Tony raised his hand and brushed her curly, brown hair out of the way from where the wind had blown it in her face. 

“Yeah I do. How else am i going to buy you everything?” He aske dsmiling. The girl pouted but nodded. “ I love you, so much.” He said, kissing her forehead, then pulling her into a hug. 

“I love you too, daddy,” she said into his shoulder. 

After a few minutes, Tony pulled back. 

“I’ve got to go now. Aunt Pepper will be there when you go to bed and Happy will stay at the house until she gets there. Be good for them,” Tony instructed. Y/N nodded. Tony placed one last kiss on her forhead and stood up. She watched as he walked to the stairs leading up to the plane. 

“What is wrong with you?’ Rhodey asked. Tony looked up there and shrugged. 

“What?”

“Three hours,” Rhodey deadpaned. 

“I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair,” Tony said as he climbed up the stairs, Happy trailing behind him. 

“For three hours For three hours you got me standing here,” Rhodey said. Tony walked past him and into the plane. 

“Waiting on you now.”

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

 Y/N sat in her bed, waiting on Pepper. She was watching TV when pepper walked in, tears running down her face. 

“Auntie Pep? What’s wrong?” The little girl asked. Pepper walked over and sat down beside the young Stark. 

“Sweetie. Um, your father. He, uh, he went miss..missing in Afghanistan. There was a bombing and he was kidnapped, they suspect,” Pepper choked out. Tears sprung in Y/N’s eyes. 

“Daddy’s missing?” she asked in a small voice. Pepper nodded, wiping her tears off and sniffling. Tears began to make their way down Y/N’s face. 

“Yes, sweetheart. He is. You’re going to stay with Uncle Rhodey until they find him. It shouldn’t be long.’

But it was long. It was three months. Three, long months without her father. She cried herself to sleep everynight for the first month. Then, for the next too, she barely slept. 

All Rhodey could do was watch helplessly as his goddaughter lost sleep and missed her dad. He did everything he could to make her feel better. They even started staying at the Malibu house just so she could sleep in his bed.  While she waited on her father, Y/N was no longer the happy little girl that she used to be.

As news reports told about the accident, they let it slip that the famous Tony Stark had a daughter. This caused for Rhodey to basically place her under a lockdown, barely leaving the house. 

When they got news that Tony was found, Y/N burst out into tears. Rhodey cradled the girl in his arms as he thanked whoever was out there that Tony was alive. 

Y/N went to the airport and waited with Pepper and Happy, since Rhodey was the one to go get him. When the gate let down on the back of the plane, Rhodey was helping Tony up from a wheelchair. His arm was in a sling and he was holding Rhodey’s hand as they walked down the ramp. Y/N began crying as she let go of Pepper’s hand. 

“DADDY!” The little girl screamed. She waited until the two best friends were off the ramp to run to him. Tony’s face broke out into a smile at the sight of his beautiful little girl. 

Tony, with the help of Rhodey, kneeled on the ground and Y/N launched herself at her dad. She was mindful of his hurt arm. She cried in his suit jacket as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Tony got chocked up as he wrapped his good arm around her. She smelt like home. Oh, how he missed her.

“Hey, princess. It’s alright. I’m right here,” he whispered into her hair. Pulling back, he admired her. While stuck in the cave, he didn’t know if he was going to see her ever again. 

“What happened?” Y/N asked, sniffling. She then felt a hard thing under his shirt, right in the middle of his chest. She tilted her head to the side and placed a hand on the hard piece of metal. Tony smiled and shook his head. 

“I got caught by some bad guys. But I’m Tony Stark, so I found a way out of there. And about this thing, some scrap pieces of metal got stuck in my chest and thus was the only way to keep me alive. Its a tinier version of the arc reactor at lab,” he explained. The little girl just hugged him again. Tony stood up, bringing her with him. He settled her on his hip and walked towards Pepper. 

“Hmm. Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony asked the woman. Pepper smiled. 

“Tears of joy. I hate job hunting,” she replied. Tony’s lip quirked up at the corners and walked past her and to his car. 

“Yeah, vacation’s over.”

Sitting in the car, Tony set Y/N beside him, allowing her to curl up into his left side. Tony wrapped his arm around her and kissed her hair. 

“Where to, sir?” Happy asked from the driver’s seat. 

“Take us to the hospital, please, Happy.”

“No.” Tony said. 

“No? Tony you have to go-”

“No is a complete answer.’

“-to the hospital. A doctor has to-”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“- look at you.” Pepper finished. 

“I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are three things I want to do; I want an American cheeseburger. I want to hold my daughter, and the other…”

“That’s enough of that.” 

“...is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference now.” Tony finished. Pepper looked at him.

“Call for a press conference?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Hogan, drive.” 

“What on earth for?”

“Cheeseburger first.”

After stopping at Burger King for three cheeseburgers, they made it to Stark Industries. Reporters and workers were lined up outside the door. Obie was waiting on them opening the door for Tony as they pulled up. 

“There he is. Ah. Tony,” he said, pulling Tony into a hug when he stepped out of the car. Tony wiped his mouth and hugged him back, Y/N getting out behind him. “We were gonna meet you at the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine,” Tony replied, throwing his napkin in the car. Happy walked around the car and held the Burger King bag out for Tony, who reached in and pulled out his second cheeseburger. 

Pepper walked over and motioned for her to follow her dad, who was talking to Obie about having to get a cheeseburger. 

Once they arrived in the press conference room, applause immediately sounded as Tony walked into the room. He had just finished his burger, meaning he was still chewing. 

Tony stopped for a moment, turning around and looking for his daughter. She was watching him from beside Pepper. With a jerk of his head, the little girl walked to her dad with a huge smile on her face. Tony grabbed her hand, smiling down at her. 

The two walked in between reporters who were desperate for news.  Arriving at the platform, Obie stepped behind the microphone and quieted the reporters down. Tony just sat down on the steps in front of the stand, allowing Y/N to sit beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side. 

“Hey, would it be alright if everyone just sat down?” He asked,pulling out a cheeseburger from his suit pocket. “Why don’t you just sit down? That way you can see me and I can… a little less formal and..” 

Everyone sat down, including Obie who sat beside Tony. Tony looked over to Obie and muttered a ‘good to see you.’

“I never got to say goodbye to my father.” Tony started. Y/N made a shocked face and looked up at him. Tony just glanced down at her and smiled. “There were questions I would’ve asked him. I would’ve asked him how he felt about what this company did. If he was conflicted, if he ever had any doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels.” 

Flashes were going off as he spoke. Y/N wondered why she was talking about her grandfather, he never talked about him. Especially to the public. 

“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend and protect them. And I saw that I.. had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.” Tony explained. A young reporter raised his hand on the front row. 

“Mr. Stark.” He said. Tony looked at him and nodded. 

“Hey, Ben”

“What happened over there?”

There was a beat of silence before Tony got up, Y/N scrambling up with him and taking his hand. 

“I-I had my eyes opened. I cam to realize that I have more to offer thus world than just things that blow up,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice. He walked around to platform and stood behind the microphone. “And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International-” 

This caused an uproar of noise. The reporters were talking over each other to get his attention. Y/N shrunk into her father’s side, not liking the loud noises.

“-until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be,” He finished. Obie grabbed him by the shoulders and talked over Tony through the microphone. 

Tony picked his daughter up and placed her on his hip, stepping back in front of the microphone. 

“I don’t want my daughter to grow up in a world with violence. I understand that violence is inevitable, but I will do the best i can to keep her away from it all. Manufacturing weapons is not doing that,” Tony explained, effectively quieting the reporters. He walked down the steps, ignoring the reporters clamoring. He kissed Y/N’s head, allowing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. 

“What we can take away from this is that, Tony is back. And healthier than ever.”

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

Tony wanted to go to the lab at Stark Industries. So, Happy drove him there and Y/N waited in the car, watching as Obie drove up on a Segway. He looked unhappy and walked in, leaving Happy to deal with the Segway. 

Y/N took out her Starktablet from her bag she takes with her everywhere, and pulled up a movie. She had recently been exposed to the Harry Potter series, obviously she read the books first. Taking out her earphones, she pulled up the 3rd movie, Prisoner of Azkaban.

Arriving home, Tony immediately went downstairs. Y/N sighed and went to her room, wishing her would watch a movie with her and cuddle. 

A few hours later, J.A.R.V.I.S announced that her father requested her in the lab. She paused her movie, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and got up. Dumbledore had just walked into the room, screaming at Harry for ‘putting his name in the Goblet of Fire.”

When she got there, she saw that Dum-E and the other robots had cleared some room and placed a metal table-like thing in the room, along with some monitors that looked suspiciously like an EKG monitor. 

“Alright, princess. I need you to help me with something,” he said, turning her attention to him. She gasped as she walked over to her father, looking at the reactor in her dads chest. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the cool metal. She grinned up at her dad.

“This is so cool,” she whispered excitedly. Tony grinned down at her and laughed. Dum-E brought over what looked like a better version of the reactor.

“You really are my daughter. Ok. I need your help. I need to swap this old one out for the new one,” he explained, holding up the new arc reactor. Y/N nodded and shook her hands out. “Ah, no. You have to be careful. There is an exposed wire under this device that is touching is making contact with the socket wall and causing a short,” he explained, taking out the old reactor. Y/N watched closley as he pulled it out, exposing a wire attached to it that went deep into his chest cavity. 

“Ok. I’m assuming you want me to get the wire, pull it out, and then reconnect the new reactor?’

Tony grinned at her proudly and nodded. 

“Exactly. But be careful, if you touch the sides with the wire or pull out the magnet,  I could go into cardiac arrest,” he said nonchalantly. Y/N gawked at him.

“Ok.. Grey’s Anatomy don’t fail me now,” she whispered. Tony chuckled. 

Y/N reached into the hole and searched around for the wire. 

“Wh-what is this in  here? Is that discharge?” she exclaimed.

“Yes it is. Just get the wire.” 

Y/N searched for the wire until she found it. She carefully pulled it out, being sure not to touch the sides. 

“Ok. Ok. Good now just don’t-”

She pulled out the magnet. 

“-pull out the magnet. Ok. It’s ok.”

The EKG started flat-lining, making her panic, She really wanted to page Dr. Yang, and charge to 200. Maybe even page Dr. Shepard just to be safe.  But, her dad seemed fine. 

“Daddy you’re going into cardiac arrest though!”

“I know. Just put the new reactor in, attaching the wires to the base plate,” he said, handing her the new reactor. She reached in, and attached the wires to the base plate like her said. He exclaimed when she did, making the heart monitors come back and set them at a steady rhythm. 

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and she dropped her head onto her dad’s chest. She then playfully swatted it.

“You can’t give me a heart attack at 8, daddy,” Y/n scolded. Tony laughed and ran his hand over her hair. She lifted her head and look at her dad. Tony sat up and kissed her forehead. 

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” she says, then glances at the old reactor. “What are you going to do with the old reactor?” 

Tony glanced her her, then turned back to whatever he was doing with Dum-E. 

“Throw it away. Incinerate it,” he said without any care. Y/N frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. 

“You don’t want to keep it?”

“Nope,” came his response. Y/N grabbed it and looked at it. 

“Well, I’m keeping it. Now, can you come watch some movies with me? You literally just got back from a foreign country where you were kept as a hostage,” she deadpanned. Tony chuckled, but tossed a shirt on and grabbed her hand. 

“Yes, let’s go. What are we watching?”

Taglist:

@bxtchboy69​

[detective-gum-chew]

okay okay okay

i know this isnt an orginal idea by any means but roleswap!narumitsu is just so good

so youll have to indulge me because this lives in my head rent free and i want to write it down concretely somewhere (also this gets LONG so ill pop a cut in here)

alright so:

1. at least in my writing of it, this is also a no-dl6/gregory lives au. but as well at that, miles and phoenix didnt go to school together

2. this means that there was nobody to defend phoenix at the class trial (yes i know the money stolen was edgeworths but shhh lets pretend it was someone elses, kay?) this lead to phoenix becoming not only bitter, but somewhat obsessive over the idea of punishing people that do wrong

(if someone can find that quote where phoenix talks about how he could have become a prosecutor because of the trial i will give u a gentle kiss on the forehead) 

3. Edgeworth was raised by Gregory and ends up becoming a defense attorney

4. in this, Von Karma goes down and Franzy is adopted by Gregory, and she assists Miles in his cases. (she can still have a whip, as a treat.)

5. anyway with that set up, lets get into some cases

6. Larry gets accused of Cindys murder, Miles defends with Franzy

7. Lets say Mia was in the crowd of that trial and decided to contact miles, seeing as he appears to be another uncorrupt lawyer and asks him for his help in taking down Redd White

8. He agrees, and she sets a time for him to meet at her office so they can talk. Mia then calls her sister and updates her on how shes going to recruit another person (Redd White hears this)

9. Much like the original case, Mia gets murdered, but this time, Maya isnt here to be blamed. Instead, its Miles himself, as the name that White heard over the phone (so basically we’re speed running to the “defend yourself in court” part)

10. the prosecutor today is Phoenix Wright.

11. but before that lets go into some backstory actually. Phoenix had encountered Mia previously during the Terry Fawles case. He had respected her as a peer, if not for just her determination and deductive skills. (After all, he was young at the time and solely focused on punishing the wicked) After Diego’s poisoning, he had briefly reached out for condolences

12. but anyway, Phoenix had distantly respected Mia, and now that she was dead, he was going to be tough on whoever he thought murdered her.

13. Miles proves his innocence, although it takes some baiting to get Redd White out of his building and actually into court. 

14. Wright is... not pleased about this, but theres not much he can do. His displeasure for Mias murder has shifted, but theres a new displeasure for Miles, the man who could beat him in court. (”well well well, you managed to save your own skin. But you should hope you get as lucky as you did in your next case”)

15. Next case! We know Miles is a steel samurai fan, so even without Maya it takes very little convincing for him to take the case. (Fran is not as amused but trusts her brother... enough.. to follow his lead)

16. Case proceeds mostly as normal, with Phoenix requiring Dee to re-do her testimony (maybe something deep within him still itches to put the true bad guy away, even if its harder than the accused)

17. I dont think Phonix would deliver the unnecessary feelings line, although there definetely is that moment in the lobby where hes like “hm. maybe you arent a bad person, but that doesnt mean i have to like you.”

18. and now, now now now, we finally get to the part where i somehow managed to put the most thought into. (for context it is nearly 2 am when i am writing this)

19. sleep schedule aside, you couldnt have thought i would made this WITHOUT some good angst, so here we go. case four is similarly structured to the original, but with an extra side of Phoenix angst.

20. Miles wakes up to Franzy shaking him. She points to the television. the news is on, but the voices are drowned out by a distant ringing as he stares at the image on the screen.

Famed Prosecutor Phoenix Wright Arrested For Murder

21. it just doesnt make sense. So he gets out of bed and into the closest clothes he can find and out the door with his sister in tow. He sits in the cold detention room, thinking about the other side of the glass.

22. Phoenix Wright looks dull. He asks what they want. Miles says he wants an explanation. Wright sneers and asks why. For some reason, that pisses Miles off. He slams his badge to the glass and Wright looks surprised.

“Do you know what this is? It’s my attorneys badge.”

“the badge doesnt mean youre a good lawyer.”

“Well Mr Wright, its 2-0, so i dont think you have any right to say that.” Miles glares at him and Wright sits back in his seat. He watches Miles for a long time.

“If im going to defend you, you need to tell me what happened.“ Wrights eyebrows shoot up and Franziska squawks at his side

“What do you mean defend him!”

“What she said.”

Miles narrows his eyes at Wright as he ponders to himself the answer. Why is he doing it? the answer comes to him. 

“Because i dont believe you did it.”

For all his snark, Miles cant bring himself to believe that the man in front of him would kill someone. Theres something about him, either in his eyes or the way he carries himself that makes the idea itself preposterous. Wright looks at him for a long time after he says it.

“Very well.”

21. Miles doesnt seem him until court, but at least he testifies. The next person up, a red head by the name of Melissa Foster, gives a testimony that seems airtight.

22. that is, until he looks over at Phoenix, who is pale as he looks at the woman on the witness stand. Phoenix catches his eye, and very carefully, very slowly, mouths one name.

Dahlia Hawthorne

23. (I really wish i could continue with the more narrative parts of this but im honestly running out of steam and ill get to the point lol. Maybe ill finish it later.)

24. Terry Fawles dies on the stand. Diego Armando falls into a coma. Dahlia Hawthorne walks free. Even after what happened to Diego, Phoenix is convinced he can do better. He sets up a meeting with Dahlia.

25. Doug shows up, trying to persuade him away from it, saying he overheard Dahlia’s plan to kill Phoenix when she arrives. Phoenix is cocky, and the pair fight. Doug gets shoved into the powerline. Phoenix, thinking him dead, panics and runs.

26. Dahlia, having overheard, goes back and finishes him off, drops some poison into his mouth perhaps. With an accidental death with a cause so obvious, nobody bothers to run blood tests (until Miles)

27. Its years later, and Phoenix gets a note that tells him they know what really happened to Doug. Phoenix arrives to a meeting place to find a dead body. He picks up the vial of poison almost absently. 

28. After all, Dahlia had gotten rid of Diego and Mia was dead. Now all she had to do was get rid of Phoenix

29. It plays out similarly to case four, with Phoenix being absolved of the first murder, then confessing to the old one. Miles has gone through the work to save his life once, that he cant not do it again.

30. but happy endings (ish) for all, with Phoenix being freed, Dahlia imprisoned and Miles having a better understanding of both him and Phoenix.

31. maybe more happens but we’re at bullet point 31 so its time to stop for now lmao. uh but yeah! roleswap au..... brainrot really.

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 1897

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… this is my first Min Yoongi fic!! After finally finishing my first ever BTS fic, GOLDEN TIME, I started working on this one!! If you haven’t noticed, I really love Hybrid stories and I seem to love writing them just as much!!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

NEXT

Training a house dog was one thing. Walking around parks and seeing them full of dogs playing and learning to sit, come, stay, roll over was something rather cute.

What wasn’t cute was walking past those same parks to see full grown adult hybrids learning the same tricks as dogs. They may have animal genetics, they may have eats and a tail, and some attributes of their animal counterpart. Yet, it gives no proper reasoning as to why hybrids needed to be trained to sit, stay, come, roll over for a treat like they were lesser.

Hybrids might have been part animal, but they were also part human. A small detail lots of humans seemed to miss themselves.

Y/N walked through the park, having slipped away from her overbearing parents 30 minutes ago, loving being by herself. Even though it was loud, children running and playing, their parents running and shouting after them, hybrids playing with children, dogs running around. There was so much noise, so much around her, and yet it was the most at peace Y/N had been in months.

She was never allowed this type of freedom, not since she was a kid, and so she basked in the walk alone. The rays of the sun warming her up as she stood in the middle of the grassy area, head raised to the sun, eyes closed. The light cardigan over the dress she wore in the summer breeze moved as she looked around, happy to be alone, even for a while.

“HEY, I SAID SIT YOU STUPID ANIMAL!”

A rather loud, high pitched shout caused Y/N to open her eyes. Y/N blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun, only to catch the ending of a tall woman hitting a hybrid.

From where Y/N stood she could make out small golden ears on top of the hybrids head, the same colour of the mop of golden hair on the hybrids head. A long golden tail wrapped around the hybrids own thigh as the hybrid curled in on themselves, their hands moving up to cover their face.

The hybrid was obviously scared, and it was even more obvious that no one was going to help the hybrid. Human and hybrids alike just looked as the woman punished her hybrid for not listening to her before looking away. Y/N noticed some hybrids, the closer ones and younger ones looked at the hybrid sympathetically, but the whole world knew that no one could help the poor hybrid. Like Y/N, all they could do was watch, before turning away herself.

Moving off the grass, Y/N followed the path to the edge of the park, joining the crowded streets of people. Y/N only had so much time to herself before her parents found her again, and that was an argument she could wait for. After all, this was the reason she had convinced her parents of this trip to the city, having planned the whole trip out.

Checking her watch as she moved across the street, Y/N only had 3 more hours before she had to meet her parents back at the hotel. She was already setting something up that would undoubtedly give her parents some type of heart attack, the least she could do was be on time.

Well as on time as a daughter can be in adopting a hybrid without her parents knowing she would.

Following the GPS on her phone, Y/N finally made it to the shelter, quickly opening the door. She was welcomed by a lively room, what was obviously once white walls were now covered in pictures of hundreds of hybrids. Some playing by themselves, some obviously posing for the camera and some with the biggest smile and humans, just having been adopted. The people in the room seemed to be just as lively, smiles and laughter coming from everywhere.

Y/N could tell who worked at the shelter, the purple shirts with the words “HOPE Sanctuary” on the back told her just that. It seemed there was a small family who had just happily adopted a dog hybrid, from the looks of it the young hybrid must have been the same age as the son he currently played with. There was also an elderly couple who had just adopted a cat hybrid, the younger feline standing next to the elder woman who gave the hybrid such a warm grandmotherly smile.

“Excuse me?” A voice spoke from behind Y/N. “Can I help you?”

A young woman stood next to Y/N; the purple shirt she wore matched the purple hair she sported. She was beautiful, the smile on her face was infectious, the soft dimples making her look that much younger. Y/N could tell she enjoyed working here, it was always good to see that there were humans like her that only wanted the best for hybrids.

“Hi yes. I called a few days ago about adopting a hybrid?” Y/N recalled the conversation she had with a very cheerful man.

“Ah yes, the older hybrid, right?” The woman’s eyes seemed to spark something. “If you would just take a seat, I will go get the owner.”

“Oh okay, thank you.” Y/N bowed her head  before moving to sit in one of the chairs.

Sitting on one of the free chairs, Y/N’s phone buzzed, reaching into her handbag to check the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking every god she could think of it wasn’t her parents. It was just a reminder, a needed reminder, but just a reminder to take her medication.

It was a simple enough task, one she did willingly, taking the small tablets then the water in the bottle she always carried around. She may not like it, she may not like the effects of them, and she may not like how her parents treated her like some child. But at 24 years old, she knew when to argue about something, and when to accept her fate and do as she’s told.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?” A familiar voice made Y/N look up as she screwed the lid tightly on her water bottle. “I’m Jung Hoseok, but please, J-Hope is what everyone calls me. I believe we talked on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Jung…” Y/N caught his eyebrow raise before laughing a little as she stood, taking the man’s hand in a handshake. “J-Hope.”

“Would you follow me to my office?” J-Hope gestured towards an office door, and with a nod they both moved towards it. “Can I just say, when we got your call that you were interested in one of our older hybrids, I just had to take your case personally.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing to be worried about, trust me.” J-Hope smiled widely, letting Y/N know he was excited. “It’s just when it comes to hybrids, people normally go for the younger children or even teens. I worry about the older hybrids, and unfortunately any hybrid over the age of 21 is considered old.”

“Really?” That was news to Y/N, her eyes wide as she took a seat opposite J-Hope.

With a sad nod from J-Hope, he moved some paperwork around, obviously finding the right stack; “So when you said you had interest in older hybrids, I just knew it was a case I had to take.” He finally found the right stack of paper with a small sound of approval. “We currently have 6 older hybrids here and I would love you to meet them all. Though with 2 of them unavailable you will only be meeting 4 of them.”

“What species of hybrids are they?” Y/N sat up straight in her chair, intrigued and happy. “The ones I’ll be meeting at least.”

“Two dog hybrids, a fox hybrid and a cat hybrid.” J-Hope looked up and smiled as he handed over 4 files to Y/N. “These are everything about them, you can read them first or you can meet them first, which ever you choose first.”

Looking down at the 4 files, she quickly flipped through them, a picture on the front of each yellow file. All 4 hybrids were males, first was a golden retriever hybrid, sandy blonde hair, the same colour as his floppy ear. He had a boxy smile, large eyes that shone brightly and he seemed to have been playing in mud as the picture was taken. Mud covered his clothes, parts of his face and hair had muddy stains, he seemed to be having a great time, even in the picture.

The second was a German Sheppard hybrid, large ears stood tall, tan and black, his head was tilted to the side. He looked to have been caught off guard, a book sat on his lap, his mouth opened slightly. He looked tall, even sitting on what looked to be his bed, his large hands looked like they wanted to move up to block the camera from taking his picture. There was a small note on the front of his file “Would be best suited for someone who lives close to the outdoors.”

Third was a very handsome hybrid. Anyone could tell that hybrid or not, he was truly very handsome, his black hair matched his shorter black ears. His eyes bore into the camera it seemed, welcoming anyone who looked at the picture. His smile was almost childlike compared to his eyes, his lips looked so soft and pink and honestly Y/N could stare at them all day. Y/N saw that he was the oldest of the 4 hybrids, and yet he could easily be mistaken for so much younger than his age.

The final file was of the only feline hybrid in the pile. A hand covered most of the view of the hybrid, but from what she could see was a pair of intense eyes. They looked almost black, his hand covered one of them, but still they drew her in, if not making her shiver. His hair was jet black, as were his small ears, in the light of the photo there was almost purple streaks. There was a small note left for him too; “If he is not adopted in the next 6 months, he must be signed up for the breeding program.”

“Um… could I meet them maybe?” Y/N lifted her gaze up from the feline hybrid. “I just… I think I would feel a lot better if I was able to meet them before making a decision.”

“Of course, you can. Would you like to meet them all together, or one at a time?”

“I think it would be better one at a time.” Y/N moved the files to sit on her knees.

“Perfect choice.” J-Hope stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to a meeting room.”

Soon J-Hope had set Y/N up in a room, large windows that completely illuminated the room, two comfortable looking chairs and a table between them. J-Hope had left to go get the first hybrid as Y/N paced a little around the room. She was scared to meet them, but she was more scared of walking out of the shelter without a hybrid.

It was the one thing in her life that she truly needed right now, she needed independence. A hybrid would give her that. 

NEXT

Tag List

@ariana-winchester95​ | @haven-raven012591​ | @gracehiii​ | @larenelizabeth​ | @legazix​ | @jiminot7​ | @narcissism-iskey​

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

— I just wanna say thank you so much to everyone who followed along, your comments and suggestions along the way really helped to bring this story to life! It’s my longest fic to date, and to think it started as a one-shot for nalu day 2020 lol. YOU GUYS HELPED MAKE THIS HAPPEN! 🥳🥰🥰 ILY YOU ALL!💜💜💜💜

@mcornilliac special shout out for you help with the toughest part 😘

Even after all these years, riding on a train still brought a small flutter to Lucy’s stomach as she remembered the long ago evening when she’d met her husband. From an innocent meeting to a death defying experience, talk about a roller coaster ride. And yet, if she had to do it all over again, Lucy wouldn’t change a thing. Crazy sounding yes, for why would anyone not want to avoid what she’d gone through? Touka had truly pushed her sanity to the breaking point, but well, the therapist was right in the end and Lucy felt almost invincible now. All that pain, all the struggle she’d pushed through had made her the strong and resilient woman she was today. Happily married to Natsu with their fraternal twins Nashi and Ryuu. Mrs. Natsu Dragneel, Lucy smiled to herself, there was no way she’d change a thing.

Of course, it hadn’t been easy. After Natsu proposed and Lucy had accepted, there were still a lot of work to be done. But that measure of acceptance and affection did wonders. Any worries she’d had that he wouldn’t want a broken woman melted away and gave her the confidence to get better. With each passing therapy session, her strength grew, and by the time they graduated college, Lucy could honestly say she’d been cured to a functional degree. No longer struggling through nightmares and panic attacks, her anxieties were under control and the debilitating depression a distant memory where it belonged.

Yeah... Lucy sighed happily as she watched the landscape pass by from her train seat. Meeting Natsu was the best thing to ever happen in her life, well, aside from the kids. They’d married about a year after graduation on the anniversary of their meeting. It was a beautiful affair at an indoor venue, with close friends and family to join them. They’d gone a more modern route for the ceremony but did take pictures at a garden dressed in the traditional attire for sentimental reasons. Lucy wore the shiromuku white kimono while Natsu a montsuki haori hakama. And no, it wasn’t train themed! Levy was the Maid of Honor and Gray was the best man. By then, Levy and Gajeel were also married and Gray in a serious relationship with a girl named Juvia Lockser. Lucy was so happy for them both. All of their lives were moving in the right direction.

Everything was perfect. Great jobs in their fields of interest, lives settled into a comfortable routine, when 5 years later Lucy was pregnant with fraternal twins. It was a total surprise since twins didn’t run in either of their families. Always the jovial optimist, Natsu joked that they’d been doubly blessed because of what they’d gone through, and Lucy couldn’t help but love such a concept. Of course, once the euphoria of the motherhood prospect waned, reality set in that she was having twins! Two! Double the babies meant double of everything, from the pregnancy concerns to raising them. Growing up without a mother and as an only child, Lucy didn’t have a lot of experience with small children. But Natsu patiently assured her, that she’d do just fine. Think of it as a new challenge, and after overcoming one pretty tough situation, this would be a walk in the park. On the bright side, Levy was also pregnant with the couple’s first child so the two best friend’s kids would grow up together.

And Natsu was right, there were a few bumps in the road but nothing too difficult. During her fourth month Lucy was diagnosed with gestational diabetes as well as some minor gastrointestinal issues, so Natsu swayed the doctor to put her on bed rest. Better safe than sorry. The babies were healthy, but by the 7th month, she really couldn’t move much, and she was miserable being stuck at home all the time. Lucy missed her job because she genuinely enjoyed working for the magazine. But in the end, it had been a good thing. She could manage her health easier that way and it gave her time to do something she’d thought about doing as part of the healing process. With Natsu’s support and permission, it was time to put her writing skills to good use and write a book about their experience.

It became an instant hit, especially with female readers. The book was not only an autobiographical reflection of what had happened to them but focused on shining a light on the dangers of stalkers, as well as the importance of taking the warning signs seriously. Lucy didn’t hold back in her re-telling, even pointing out the serious flaws in Japan’s laws in protecting citizens from stalkers which at the time were nonexistent. Feminist organizations working to change those laws used her story with permission for their cause. She had no intentions of becoming a poster child for the movement, but in the end her role may have played its part, because 2 years after the publishing, Japan finally adopted anti-stalking laws making it easier for police to string together harassment cases, as well as for victims to get the help they needed.

Her life was nothing but exciting to say the least! And with two young children, now age 10 certainly kept them on their toes. Their daughter Nashi was just like Natsu, very outgoing, friendly, but a bit of a daredevil while her brother Ryuu born 4 minutes after her was the quieter of the two. He preferred books like his mother to adventure. Of course, that never stopped Nashi from dragging him into shenanigans! But the best part was how close they still were and fiercely protective of each other. Lucy and Natsu couldn’t be prouder of them and hoped this would continue throughout their lifetimes.

Fifteen years... come to think of it, their wedding anniversary was coming up shortly. With Natsu now a senior fire inspector for the Tokyo prefectural government, he was often busy. Lucy did mind it, because frankly it gave her some peace and quiet. She chuckled at the thought. Not that it was all that peaceful with the twins. But she digressed. His success meant their lives were very comfortable, and her own journalism successes while not as financially based, were still celebrated in their relationship. Natsu never waned in being the dutiful and supportive, always loving husband that Lucy felt blessed to grow old with.

‘Two more stops, pick up the kids from school, stop at the grocery store for dinner...’ Lucy tapped out on her phone a to-do list of ingredients to pick up at the store. Perhaps katsudon... ‘Mmm, or maybe nabe,’ hot-pot soup since it was expected to be a bit chilly that evening.

Lucy looked up briefly, really just spacing out in thought when someone catches her eye. At the other end of the train car, she noticed a woman facing slightly away, but enough to where she couldn’t quite see a face. It couldn’t be... Lucy looked away not wanting to stare, but somehow... for some reason the woman was awfully familiar... looking exactly like Touka. Well, not exactly, but enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was a blonde, with a different hair style— and that could always be changed. Similar body type, the facial side-profile features that Lucy could see resembled Touka...

Now despite being better, her anxieties still bubbled up from time to time, so she immediately switched to her coping techniques to calm them down. ‘You’re fine,’ Lucy talked herself through it, ‘no point in getting riled up.’ The woman hadn’t done so much as looked in her direction, so it must be okay. Contrary to popular belief, things like depression and anxiety never fully goes away, especially when someone has experienced a severe level of it. Those emotions and irrational thoughts are forever programmed into the brain, but there are ways to keep them at bay and Lucy’s successfully done just that for 15 years.

‘Just go back to what you were doing. Katsudon or nabe? And don’t forget you need to pick up milk...’ But, fifteen years... could Touka have been released by now? Lucy shook the thought away again. ‘Stop it! Everything is fine. It’s not her!’ The train was semi-full of passengers all minding their own business... including the woman. There was no reason to start panicking now. Lucy adjusts her position on her seat away from the woman’s direction. If she couldn’t see her, she could pretend she didn’t exist. ‘Maybe I should pick up ingredients for both, that way I don’t have to shop tomorrow.’ Lucy thought to herself, and with the kids with her, they could help in carrying the shopping bags. ‘Yeah, we’ve got a plan…’

After figuring out her shopping list, Lucy pulled up social media to keep herself distracted and for a few minutes it did the trick. Silly videos of entertainers never got old. The train reached the next stop and she felt it come to a stop. Since it wasn’t hers, she didn’t pay it any mind as she scrolled through her feed. But as the disembarking passengers funnel past Lucy, her eyes pick up on a pair of pink high-heels peeking from over the edge of her phone. Her body instantly stiffened up from the similarity to the ones worn by the woman, while her curiosity slowly got the better of her. ‘Breath, act nonchalant!’ Lucy’s eyes tracked the high-heels moving past her until they left her periphery. She then slowly sat back up, pretending to readjust her position, when she caught a pair of eyes looking back. Lucy’s breathing hitches with a shaky exhale. “Oh, my god—"

Standing at the doorway with one hand on the frame, the blonde woman smiled at Lucy then winked before stepping off the train.

It was Touka!

[texanredrose]

Okay, to put some limitations on this, I’m only including the WIPs that I’ve done more than a synopsis for... that I can remember... that’s on Google Drive... that I actually think I might post one day... but haven’t posted yet because my posted WIPs are fairly easy to identify... okay... I got tagged by @unsteadyshade and I’m tagging @faunusrights and @alexlayer69

1) Across Time - Inuyasha AU where Weiss gets thrown back in time to the ancient past, where she meets two demons (Yang and Blake) warring against each other over a misunderstanding.

2) Alpha’s Devotion - Omega’s Strength, but from Winter’s POV.

3) Bears, Oh My - An exhausted Winter, lost on a hike, comes across a cabin where Yang lives with her three pet bears.

4) Brave New World - Continuation of the Dishonored AU where Ruby and Winter reflect on the new Mantle.

5) Bruised - Third installment to the ace!Yang AU. 

6) Coming Home - Based on Dash’s Tiny Knight AU, Princess Blake is betrayed and stranded far from home and must rely on a reticent knight named Weiss to return to her kingdom.

7) Complications Always Arise - Papa Schnee is demanding Weiss marry before he’ll allow her to take his place as head of the SDC, so Yang volunteers to pretend to be Weiss’ beloved. No one else knows the relationship is fake, least of all Blake and Winter, and it’s just a bunch of pain.

8) Divided - Continuation of the By Moonlight AU where Whitley returns to the castle and Winter’s not upset by that- and Winter’s upset by the fact she’s not upset and has to figure out why her inner wolf is cool with this when she should, by all rights, be furious.

9) Dragonsbane - Mage Knight Winter hears tale of a dragon in the countryside that the local villages wish to see vanquished. Winter, however, has other plans.

10) Eye of the Beholder - Blinded and near death after a battle, Winter is rescued by the mysterious Yang and is nursed back to health despite her protests otherwise. (It’s a Medusa!AU.)

11) Fabled - Fable 3 AU where Princess Ruby and Princess Yang are forced to confront the fact that Queen Raven has lost her fucking mind, only to discover that fear drove the woman insane- a fear they must confront themselves.

12) Fields of Love - Farmer Yang offers a job and housing to apparent single mother Winter and her young daughter Penny. What starts as a kind gesture grows into something so much more.

13) Full Circle - Van Helsing (2004) AU, Winter and Weiss, amnesiacs employed by the church to handle all manner of unholy problems, are sent to discover what happened to King Taiyang. Along the way, they become wrapped up in a centuries spanning prophecy and a bloodline hanging in the balance.

14) High Bar, Low Blow - Yang owns a bar where the gimmick is that everyone’s an out of work actor and the staff is staging an ongoing drama on par with a soap opera to keep their customers coming back. Winter joins the staff and then things get a bit real.

15) Hoodlums and Hijinks - Robin Hood AU where Princess Winter and Princess Weiss are just as in favor for overthrowing the king as the group of bandits run by Ruby, Yang, and Blake. 

16) Last One 2: Electric Boogaloo (title subject to change) - a sequel to Last One where the haunt continues.

17) Lexical Access - Sequel to Tip of the Tongue, where Yang gives her girlfriend a bit of roleplaying payback.

18) Little Red - Carmen Sandiego AU where Ruby was kidnapped adopted by a group of thieves and raised to become the world’s greatest thief, but a chance meeting with Penny via a stolen phone opens her eyes to the wider world, and she meets the rebellious heiress Weiss, street smart Blake, and brawler Yang, creating a team that works to foil Ruby’s former friends while eluding capture by mysterious operatives with a somewhat familiar white color scheme...

19) Long Term Investment - Yang, a fae who lives in the woods, makes a deal with Princess Winter to save the Queen. The price? Winter’s firstborn. Winter misunderstands how she’s expected to get pregnant and Yang’s never actually intended to collect. Next thing Yang knows, Winter’s moving into the clearing beside her tree home.

20) Miscalculation - Another Omegaverse AU where Weiss is an omega and Blake and Yang are alphas, except Weiss lied and said she was an alpha when enrolling in Beacon and now she’s locked in a room with Blake and Yang on the verge of starting her heat. Sharing is caring.

21) More Than Words Can Say - Winter, rendered mute by a military accident early in her career, is honestly the best girlfriend Yang’s ever had. However, tonight’s the night they’ve decided to get intimate, and that includes showing some scars that they don’t show often. It’s less about sex and more about trust and intimacy.

22) Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera AU where the mysterious, disfigured shade of the opera house, Weiss, finds herself at odds with the rich, jovial Yang in a competition for Blake’s heart. Then there’s Adam being a dick, too, and the opera house has never seen so much drama.

23) My Heart Will Go On - It’s the Titanic, but double the rich, unwilling-to-marry ladies and triple the won-a-ticket-to-a-ship ruffians. Penny’s there too; she, like Ruby, just really likes ships.

24) One Fucking Favor - Winter’s due for a long assignment and wants to make a sex tape for stress relief purposes. Yang doesn’t ask questions; she’s just the one with the camera. But then, Winter’s partner for the vid doesn’t show up. What’s Yang going to do about it?

25) Prophecy - Star Wars AU where Ruby, Yang, and Blake are trained as Jedi, Winter and Weiss are part of the clone army, and Ruby’s the chosen one. That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, but Senator Salem is there to lend a helping hand...

26) Propositioned - Faunus experience bouts of heat; sometimes, they can safely ignore it and go about their lives, but every now and again, they really can’t. Concerned for Blake’s health as she’s skipped too many heats to be healthy, Yang sets up a partner for Blake’s heat. Blake’s not a fan but she does like the idea of banging Weiss Schnee.

27) Proven - ARK: Survival Evolved AU where Winter, after being ‘won’ by Yang, is taken into the bowels of the earth to learn how the underground tribes who inhabit the area survive in such an unforgiving environment. As she acclimates to the tribe’s ways, she finds herself carving out her own path, culminating in facing off against the Queen and proving herself worthy.

28) Reaping What You Sow - When Winter escaped to the countryside with Penny to start a farm, she knew she had her work cut out for her. In need of help and facing a harsh cold season, she hires Yang, a one armed drifter, to help her. The two end up needing the other more than they could’ve imagined.

29) Tear My Heart Open - Blake thought she understood how the world worked. As a member of the White Fang Gang, all she needed to do was keep everyone motivated to continue their ongoing street war against the police and authorities bent on keeping them down. But while running from the cops, she’s offered sanctuary in the home of one Weiss Schnee and her girlfriend, Yang. From there, her perception of the world is completely upended.

30) The Duel - After her father offered her hand in marriage to the winner of a tournament, Winter opted to assume a disguise and fight for the prize herself. In the final match, she faces Yang Xiao Long, a competitor she’s come to know quite well, and she finds her conviction to win wavering slightly. Is it enough to lose her the fight?

31) The Lies We Tell Ourselves - Weiss has made it; she’s opened her tattoo shop in Vale, well away from her father, and aside from a bad first impression with the florists across the parking lot, everything’s looking up for her- until her father finds her. Luckily, Blake’s been through some shit and doesn’t mind helping Weiss drive daddy dearest up the wall, even if it means letting her own parents think she’s dating Weiss. It’s not like either of them is going to catch feelings... unless...

32) The Princess’ Bride - After losing her fiancée to the dreaded White Fang Pirates, Yang vows to take to the sea herself and exact her revenge. Princess Weiss finds herself falling madly in love with Yang, who still loves Blake, and all this is thrown into even more chaos when Yang gets kidnapped and Blake comes back from the dead! 

33) Two for One - Yes, another Omegaverse AU. Five years after the fall of Beacon, Yang and Blake cross paths, each believing the other has spent the time keeping their mutual mate, Weiss, safe. When they realize Weiss is with neither of them, old wounds are torn open, but before they can resolve their dispute, Winter captures the both of them and hauls them to a remote part of Atlas where an SDC facility has been turned into a fortress. There, they find a mortally wounded Weiss clinging to life and raising twins daughters; she gives her mates until her death to endear themselves to their children, else the twins might opt to stay with Winter and be kept from Blake and Yang for good. Between learning about their kids, Blake and Yang navigate their complicated feelings and try to reconnect with Weiss, all while a sinister force gathers to destroy the fortress and steal the prize within.

34) Weaknesses - Loosely set in the Glamour AU, Yang is being forced to assume her mother’s position as leader of their vampire coven. Her fellow vamps disapprove of Yang’s werewolf girlfriend. Winter, of course, doesn’t care.

I got lazy and cut a bunch out. No, fuck you, I don’t have too many AUs, I will add more if I want. Also, some of these, the first chapter is posted on my Patreon. Don’t ask me which ones; I genuinely have no idea. I’m bad at this, y’all.

[bolintheturtleduck]

Song Ranking

So I did that song ranking thing and it took HOURS. literal HOURS. Don’t ever do it, I won’t even link it. I hated doing it. But here is my list. And dare I say my Top 130 is immaculate hjgkhg

Some of this is not really accurate though. Could be me or the generator. Like ‘Cold Hearted’ being 500 something???? Not in my house. 

Also don’t go looking for christmas songs. They are all somewhere down there lmao

Anyways! Let’s go!

1 Nasty / Rhythm Nation

1 Rumour Has It / Someone Like You

3 Be Okay

4 Love You Like A Love Song

4 Seasons Of Love

6 Mustang Sally

7 So Emotional

8 Tightrope

9 Barely Breathing

10 Cough Syrup

11 Shake It Out

11 The Boy Is Mine

13 Back To Black

14 Valerie

15 Paradise By The Dashboard Light

16 River Deep, Mountain High

17 Problem

18 Faithfully

19 Gloria

20 I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

21 How Will I Know

22 We Are Young

23 How To Be A Heartbreaker

24 Hand In My Pocket / I Feel The Earth Move

25 If I Die Young

26 I Feel Pretty / Unpretty

27 Bust Your Windows

28 Candyman

29 American Boy

30 I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) / You Make My Dreams

31 If I Can't Have You

32 It's All Coming Back To Me Now

33 Crazy / U Drive Me Crazy

34 ABC

35 Bad Romance

36 It's Too Late

37 Hungry Like The Wolf / Rio

38 I Wish

39 Need You Now

40 Landslide

41 Start Me Up / Livin' On A Prayer

42 Thriller / Heads Will Roll

43 What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)

44 There Are Worse Things I Could Do

45 Losing My Religion

46 The Edge Of Glory

47 Teenage Dream (Acoustic Version)

48 Make You Feel My Love

49 My Prerogative

50 Singing In The Rain / Umbrella

51 Songbird

52 Spotlight

53 Mine

54 Take Me Or Leave Me

55 Take Me To Church

56 No Surrender

57 Never Say Never

58 Constant Craving

59 Brave

60 Born This Way

61 Pumpin' Blood

62 Blame It (On The Alcohol)

63 Glad You Came

64 Give Your Heart A Break

65 It's All Over

66 It's Not Right, But It's Okay

67 Everybody Talks

68 Here Comes The Sun

69 Into The Groove

70 In Your Eyes

71 I Don't Want To Know

72 I Lived

73 I Kissed A Girl

74 Halo / Walking On Sunshine

75 You Can't Stop The Beat

76 She's Not There

77 Nutbush City Limits

78 True Colors

79 Can't Fight This Feeling

80 Breakaway

81 Dancing Queen

82 Don't Stop Me Now

83 And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going

84 Empire State Of Mind

85 Doo Wop (That Thing)

86 Arthur's Theme

87 Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy

88 Toxic

89 This Is The New Year

90 Last Name

91 3

92 A Change Would Do You Good

93 Got To Get You Into My Life

94 Tongue Tied

95 Smooth Criminal

96 Papa Don't Preach

97 Animal

97 Another One Bites The Dust

99 Don't Speak

100 Don't You Want Me

101 A Hard Day's Night

102 Some Nights

103 Somebody That I Used To Know

104 Superstition

105 Survivor / I Will Survive

106 My Life Would Suck Without You

107 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

108 Misery

109 My Love Is Your Love

110 Somewhere Only We Know

111 Blow Me (One Last Kiss)

112 Me Against The Music

113 I Follow Rivers

114 Mean

115 Here's To Us

116 Stronger

117 Summer Nights

118 Make No Mistake, She's Mine

119 Love Song

120 Waiting For A Girl Like You

121 We Got The Beat

122 We Found Love

123 We've Got Tonite

124 Love Shack

125 The Scientist

126 Love Is A Battlefield

127 Run Joey Run

128 Wings

129 When I Get You Alone

130 Uptown Girl

131 Roots Before Branches

132 I'm The Only One

132 I've Gotta Be Me

134 Hopelessly Devoted To You

135 Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way Or Another

136 Dinosaur

137 Dog Days Are Over

138 Hung Up

139 Everytime

140 Go Your Own Way

141 Every Breath You Take

142 Fire And Rain

143 Fighter

144 Not While I'm Around

145 Not The Boy Next Door

146 Fly / I Believe I Can Fly

147 Girl On Fire

148 Oops!... I Did It Again

149 Stop! In The Name Of Love / Free Your Mind

150 Stereo Hearts

151 Bills, Bills, Bills

152 Somebody Loves You

153 Hold It Against Me

154 Turning Tables

155 Wide Awake

156 You May Be Right

157 Cell Block Tango

158 A Boy Like That

159 All Out Of Love

160 Alfie

161 Jessie's Girl

162 I'm A Slave 4 U

163 I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

164 I'll Stand By You (Amber)

165 I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)

166 Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself)

167 Lovefool

168 Just Can't Get Enough

169 Just Give Me A Reason

170 Keep Holding On

171 Like A Virgin

172 New York State Of Mind

173 My Dark Side

174 More Than A Feeling

174 My Cup

176 I Want To Hold Your Hand

177 I Want To Break Free

178 I Want To Know What Love Is

179 I Want You Back

180 Teenage Dream

181 Take My Breath Away

182 America

183 Glory Days

184 I Say A Little Prayer

184 I Wanna Sex You Up

186 I Will Always Love You

187 A Thousand Years

188 Like A Prayer

189 Don't Rain On My Parade

190 Disco Inferno

191 Don't Stop Believin' (Regionals)

192 Dream On

193 Get It Right

194 Gold Digger

195 Telephone

196 Without You

197 You're The One That I Want

198 Tell Him

199 Let Me Love You

200 Good Vibrations

200 Raise Your Glass

202 Run The World (Girls)

203 Gimme More

204 Hey Jude

204 How Deep Is Your Love

206 Higher Ground

207 Vogue

208 Something's Coming

209 Footloose

210 Forget You

211 Gives You Hell

212 Everybody Wants To Rule The World

213 Far From Over

214 Fat Bottomed Girls

215 Hair / Crazy In Love

216 Hall Of Fame

216 Hello

216 Hello, I Love You

216 Somebody To Love

216 Time Warp

216 To Love You More

222 Last Friday Night

223 Hate On Me

224 Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

225 Locked Out Of Heaven

226 Rose's Turn

227 Everybody Hurts

227 Express Yourself

227 Loser

227 Shout It Out Loud

231 Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours

232 Pompeii

233 Party All The Time

234 Our Day Will Come

235 Perfect

236 Old Time Rock & Roll / Danger Zone

237 Greased Lightning

237 Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

237 Live While We're Young

240 Firework

240 Love Child

242 Fire

243 You're All I Need To Get By

244 The Scientist (Acapella)

245 Afternoon Delight

246 Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)

247 Listen To Your Heart

248 Tik Tok

249 You Keep Me Hangin' On

250 The Rose

251 You Can't Always Get What You

Want

252 Let's Have A Kiki

252 Listen

254 Pretending

255 More Than A Woman

256 More Than Words

257 Hot For Teacher

257 No One Is Alone

257 Not The End

257 Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag 257 O Christmas Tree

257 One Hand, One Heart

257 One

257 Only Child

257 Proud Mary

266 Heroes

267 Hey Ya!

268 Getting Married Today

268 Happy

270 Hell To The No

271 Night Fever

271 Sgt. Pepper's Lonley Hearts Club

Band

273 The Music Of The Night

273 The Only Exception 273 The Rain In Spain 273 The Safety Dance 273 Thousand Miles 278 Billionaire

278 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 278 The Happening

278 The Lady Is A Tramp

282 Borderline / Open Your Heart 282 Born To Hand Jive

284 Control

284 The Longest Time

286 Give Up The Funk

287 Chasing Pavements

288 Man In The Mirror

288 Say

288 Sexy And I Know It 288 Shout

292 Marry The Night

293 Mamma Mia

294 Loser Like Me

295 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 1)

296 Colorblind

297 Diva

297 Don't Cry For Me Argentina

299 Don't Dream It's Over

300 Let It Be

301 Don't Stop

302 Highway To Hell

302 Hold On

302 Holding Out For A Hero 302 We Will Rock You

302 What I Did For Love

302 What It Feels Like For A Girl

308 Take On Me

309 For Once In My Life

309 Good Riddance (Time Of Your

Life)

309 Hello Goodbye

309 Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love

309 Home

309 Homeward Bound / Home 309 Honesty

309 Human Nature

317 Drive My Car

317 For Good

317 I'll Remember

320 I'll Stand By You (Cory)

321 On My Own

321 Taking Chances

321 The Bitch Is Back / Dress You Up 321 Werewolves Of London

325 My Man

326 My Life

327 My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)

327 Never Going Back Again 327 No Scrubs

330 Creep

331 Come What May

332 Never Can Say Goodbye

333 Who Are You Now?

334 You Give Love A Bad Name

335 Womanizer

336 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

337 Come See About Me

337 P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) 337 People

337 Popular

337 River

337 Roar

337 Rolling In The Deep 337 Santa Baby

345 Boogie Shoes

346 At Last

347 I'm The Greatest Star

348 Jar Of Hearts

349 It's Time

350 It's My Life / Confessions Part II

351 It's Not Unusual

352 I'm So Excited

352 I'm Still Here

354 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 5) 354 Don't You (Forget About Me) 354 Dreams

354 Unchained Melody

354 Uptown Funk

359 Bohemian Rhapsody

359 Don't Stop Believin' (Rachel) 359 Lucky

362 Don't Stand So Close To Me /

Young Girl

363 Bridge Over Troubled Water

363 Bust A Move

365 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

366 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

(Reprise)

367 Longest Time

368 Applause

369 All Of Me

370 Any Way You Want It

370 Anything Could Happen

372 Red Solo Cup

372 Rock Lobster

372 Rockin' Around The Christmas

Tree 372 Rockstar

376 Saving All My Love For You

377 (I've Had) The Time Of My Life

377 Piano Man 377 Poison 377 Poker Face

381 A House Is Not A Home

382 4 Minutes

383 Black Or White

384 Blackbird

385 All By Myself

385 Smile

385 You Make Me Feel So Young

388 Wrecking Ball

389 (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural

Woman

389 (You're) Having My Baby

391 Superman

392 Ain't No Way

392 Stayin' Alive

394 Still Got Tonight

394 The Most Wonderful Day Of The

Year

394 The Way You Look Tonight / You're Never Fully Dressed Without A

Smile 394 This Time

394 Whatever Happened To Saturday Night?

399 They Long To Be Close To You

400 All About That Bass 400 Sing!

400 So Far Away

400 Some People

404 Addicted To Love

404 Moves Like Jagger / Jumpin' Jack Flash

404 Sing

404 Someday We'll Be Together 404 Somethin' Stupid

404 Something

404 Somewhere

404 Stand

412 Scream

413 Rather Be

414 Next To Me

414 No Air

414 Papa Can You Hear Me? 414 Physical

414 Piece Of My Heart

414 Pinball Wizard

414 Pony

414 Rehab

422 La Isla Bonita

422 Lean On Me

422 Let's Wait Awhile

422 Little Drummer Boy

422 Little Girls

427 Light Up The World

428 Science Fiction Double Feature

428 Silent Night 428 Silly Love Songs

431 Le Jazz Hot

432 Out Here On My Own

432 Pure Imagination

434 School's Out

435 Hey, Soul Sister

435 I Kissed A Girl (Season Six) 435 Sway

438 I Believe In A Thing Called Love

439 I Have Nothing

440 I Am Changing

441 I Saw Her Standing There

441 I Was Here

441 I Won't Give Up

441 I'll Be Home For Christmas 441 I'll Never Fall In Love Again 446 Funny Girl

446 I Look To You

446 I Only Have Eyes For You 446 I Still Believe / Super Bass 446 Story Of My Life

451 I Love New York / New York, New

York

452 What Makes You Beautiful

453 What The World Needs Now

454 An Innocent Man

454 Bad

454 Because You Loved Me

454 Bein' Green

454 ByeByeBye/IWantItThatWay 454 IfIWereABoy

454 Take A Bow

454 Take Me Home Tonight

462 Barracuda

463 Beauty School Drop Out

464 Chandelier

465 Baby It's You

466 It Must Have Been Love

467 At The Ballet

468 Baby One More Time

469 Beautiful

469 Being Alive

469 We Built This City

472 Being Good Isn't Good Enough 472 I Just Can't Stop Loving You 472 I Love It

472 Isn't She Lovely

476 All That Jazz

476 Blurred Lines

476 Bootylicious

476 Extraordinary Merry Christmas 476 Father Figure

476 Fight For Your Right (To Party)

476 Flashdance... What A Feeling

483 I Don't Know How To Love Him

484 Fix You

484 I Could Have Danced All Night 486 Push It

486 Rainbow Connection 486 Rise

489 Promises, Promises

490 Oh Chanukah

490 Ohio

490 One Love (People Get Ready) 490 Only The Good Die Young 494 Baby

494 Dancing With Myself

494 Defying Gravity

497 Baby, It's Cold Outside

498 Cherish / Cherish

498 Christmas Wrapping 498 Closer

498 Downtown

498 Endless Love

498 Forever Young

498 Friday I'm In Love 498 Friday

498 Gangnam Style

498 Get Back

498 Safety Dance

509 Cold Hearted

510 Clarity

511 Centerfold / Hot In Herre

511 Just The Way You Are 513 Jumpin', Jumpin'

513 Kiss

515 Juke Box Hero

515 L-O-V-E

517 Jolene

518 Jump

518 La Cucaracha

520 Dream A Little Dream

521 A Little Less Conversation

521 Beth

521 Bitch

521 Don't Sleep In The Subway 521 Girls Just Want To Have Fun 521 Have Yourself A Merry Little

Christmas 521 Help!

521 I Dreamed A Dream 521 I'm His Child

521 I'm Still Standing 521 Ice Ice Baby

521 Imagine

521 In My Life

521 It's A Man's Man's Man's World 521 Lose My Breath

521 Memory

521 Outcast

521 Over The Rainbow

521 Same Love

521 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 521 Teach Your Children

521 Tell Me Something Good

521 The Final Countdown

521 Uptight (Everything's Alright) 545 Big Ass Heart

545 I Love L.A.

545 I Melt With You

548 Big Girls Don't Cry

548 Mary's Boy Child

548 O Holy Night

548 On Our Way

548 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One

Beer

548 One Less Bell To Answer

554 Maybe This Time 554 My Favourite Things 554 My Sharona

557 Marry You

558 Cool

559 Cool Kids

560 Celebrity Skin

560 Cheek To Cheek

560 Dance The Night Away

560 Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend / Material Girl

560 Don't Go Breaking My Heart 560 Don't Wanna Lose You

560 Feliz Navidad

560 Here Comes Santa Claus 560 I Know What Boys Like

560 I Know Where I've Been 560 Trouty Mouth

571 Total Eclipse Of The Heart

572 Don't Make Me Over

573 Call Me Maybe

574 We Are The Champions

575 Time After Time

576 Bring Him Home

576 Broadway Baby 576 Buenos Aires 576 Burning Up 576 Yesterday

581 Boys / Boyfriend

582 Mercy

582 You Get What You Give

582 You Have More Friends Than You

Know

582 You Learn / You've Got A Friend

582 You Should Be Dancing

582 You're All The World To Me 582 You're My Best Friend

582 You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' 590 Break Free

590 Jingle Bell Rock 590 Jingle Bells

590 Joy To The World 590 One Of Us

590 Tonight

590 You're The Top

590 You've Got To Hide Your Love

Away

590 Your Song

599 To Sir, With Love

600 Torn

601 Wake Me Up

601 Wannabe

601 Wedding Bell Blues

604 Touch A Touch A Touch A Touch Me

604 UpUpUp

606 All Or Nothing

606 Alone

606 Cry

606 Leaving On A Jet Plane

606 Let It Go

606 Mickey

606 Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) 606 Mr. Roboto / Counting Stars 606 Try A Little Tenderness

606 U Can't Touch This

606 Uninvited

606 Vacation

606 Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' 606 What Kind Of Fool

606 Whistle

606 Will You Love Me Tomorrow /

Head Over Feet 606 Wishin' And Hoping

606 YouAndI/YouAndI

624 Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?

624 Do You Hear What I Hear? 624 Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh

Yeah)

624 Lucky Star

624 Merry Christmas Darling 629 Damn It, Janet

629 Danny's Song

629 Daydream Believer

629 Deck The Rooftop

629 Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead 634 All I Want For Christmas Is You 634 Angels We Have Heard On High 634 Anything Goes / Anything You Can

Do

634 As If We Never Said Goodbye

634 As Long As You're There 634 Bamboleo / Hero

634 Bella Notte

634 Copacabana

634 Do They Know It's Christmas? 634 Last Christmas

634 Let It Snow

634 We Need A Little Christmas

634 Welcome Christmas

634 Whenever I Call You Friend

634 Whip It

634 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life

650 All You Need Is Love

651 Americano / Dance Again

652 Crush

653 Big Spender

653 Make 'Em Laugh

653 White Christmas

653 Yeah!

657 (Charlie Chaplin song)

657 (originally by Michael Bublé) 657 Away In A Manger

657 Baby Got Back

657 Christmas Eve With You 657 Come Sail Away

657 You Are Woman, I Am Man 657 You Spin Me Round (Like A

Record)

665 You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

666 Starlight Express

666 The Trolley Song

666 The Winner Takes It All

666 There's A Light (Over At The

Frankenstein Place) 670 Take Care Of Yourself

671 Sweet Caroline

672 Ben

672 Best Day Of My Life 672 Blue Christmas

672 Candles

676 Starships

676 Suddenly Seymour 676 Sweet Transvestite

679 Thong Song

680 The Fox (What Does The Fox

Say?)

680 The Living Years

682 The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)

682 The First Noël

[badartfriend]

There is a sunny earnestness to Dawn Dorland, an un-self-conscious openness that endears her to some people and that others have found to be a little extra. Her friends call her a “feeler”: openhearted and eager, pressing to make connections with others even as, in many instances, she feels like an outsider. An essayist and aspiring novelist who has taught writing classes in Los Angeles, she is the sort of writer who, in one authorial mission statement, declares her faith in the power of fiction to “share truth,” to heal trauma, to build bridges. (“I’m compelled at funerals to shake hands with the dusty men who dig our graves,” she has written.) She is known for signing off her emails not with “All best” or “Sincerely,” but “Kindly.”

On June 24, 2015, a year after completing her M.F.A. in creative writing, Dorland did perhaps the kindest, most consequential thing she might ever do in her life. She donated one of her kidneys, and elected to do it in a slightly unusual and particularly altruistic way. As a so-called nondirected donation, her kidney was not meant for anyone in particular but instead was part of a donation chain, coordinated by surgeons to provide a kidney to a recipient who may otherwise have no other living donor. There was some risk with the procedure, of course, and a recovery to think about, and a one-kidney life to lead from that point forward. But in truth, Dorland, in her 30s at the time, had been wanting to do it for years. “As soon as I learned I could,” she told me recently, on the phone from her home in Los Angeles, where she and her husband were caring for their toddler son and elderly pit bull (and, in their spare time, volunteering at dog shelters and searching for adoptive families for feral cat litters). “It’s kind of like not overthinking love, you know?”

Several weeks before the surgery, Dorland decided to share her truth with others. She started a private Facebook group, inviting family and friends, including some fellow writers from GrubStreet, the Boston writing center where Dorland had spent many years learning her craft. After her surgery, she posted something to her group: a heartfelt letter she’d written to the final recipient of the surgical chain, whoever they may be.

Personally, my childhood was marked by trauma and abuse; I didn’t have the opportunity to form secure attachments with my family of origin. A positive outcome of my early life is empathy, that it opened a well of possibility between me and strangers. While perhaps many more people would be motivated to donate an organ to a friend or family member in need, to me, the suffering of strangers is just as real. … Throughout my preparation for becoming a donor … I focused a majority of my mental energy on imagining and celebrating you.

The procedure went well. By a stroke of luck, Dorland would even get to meet the recipient, an Orthodox Jewish man, and take photos with him and his family. In time, Dorland would start posting outside the private group to all of Facebook, celebrating her one-year “kidneyversary” and appearing as a UCLA Health Laker for a Day at the Staples Center to support live-organ donation. But just after the surgery, when she checked Facebook, Dorland noticed some people she’d invited into the group hadn’t seemed to react to any of her posts. On July 20, she wrote an email to one of them: a writer named Sonya Larson.

Larson and Dorland had met eight years earlier in Boston. They were just a few years apart in age, and for several years they ran in the same circles, hitting the same events, readings and workshops at the GrubStreet writing center. But in the years since Dorland left town, Larson had leveled up. Her short fiction was published, in Best American Short Stories and elsewhere; she took charge of GrubStreet’s annual Muse and the Marketplace literary conference, and as a mixed-race Asian American, she marshaled the group’s diversity efforts. She also joined a group of published writers that calls itself the Chunky Monkeys (a whimsical name, referring to breaking off little chunks of big projects to share with the other members). One of those writing-group members, Celeste Ng, who wrote “Little Fires Everywhere,” told me that she admires Larson’s ability to create “characters who have these big blind spots.” While they think they’re presenting themselves one way, they actually come across as something else entirely.

When it comes to literary success, the stakes can be pretty low — a fellowship or residency here, a short story published there. But it seemed as if Larson was having the sort of writing life that Dorland once dreamed of having. After many years, Dorland, still teaching, had yet to be published. But to an extent that she once had a writing community, GrubStreet was it. And Larson was, she believed, a close friend.

Over email, on July 21, 2015, Larson answered Dorland’s message with a chirpy reply — “How have you been, my dear?” Dorland replied with a rundown of her next writing residencies and workshops, and as casually as possible, asked: “I think you’re aware that I donated my kidney this summer. Right?”

Only then did Larson gush: “Ah, yes — I did see on Facebook that you donated your kidney. What a tremendous thing!”

Afterward, Dorland would wonder: If she really thought it was that great, why did she need reminding that it happened?

They wouldn’t cross paths again until the following spring — a brief hello at A.W.P., the annual writing conference, where the subject of Dorland’s kidney went unmentioned. A month later, at the GrubStreet Muse conference in Boston, Dorland sensed something had shifted — not just with Larson but with various GrubStreet eminences, old friends and mentors of hers who also happened to be members of Larson’s writing group, the Chunky Monkeys. Barely anyone brought up what she’d done, even though everyone must have known she’d done it. “It was a little bit like, if you’ve been at a funeral and nobody wanted to talk about it — it just was strange to me,” she said. “I left that conference with this question: Do writers not care about my kidney donation? Which kind of confused me, because I thought I was in a community of service-oriented people.”

It didn’t take long for a clue to surface. On June 24, 2016, a Facebook friend of Dorland’s named Tom Meek commented on one of Dorland’s posts.

Sonya read a cool story about giving out a kidney. You came to my mind and I wondered if you were the source of inspiration?

Still impressed you did this.

Dorland was confused. A year earlier, Larson could hardly be bothered to talk about it. Now, at Trident bookstore in Boston, she’d apparently read from a new short story about that very subject. Meek had tagged Larson in his comment, so Dorland thought that Larson must have seen it. She waited for Larson to chime in — to say, “Oh, yes, I’d meant to tell you, Dawn!” or something like that — but there was nothing. Why would Sonya write about it, she wondered, and not tell her?

Six days later, she decided to ask her. Much as she had a year earlier, she sent Larson a friendly email, including one pointed request: “Hey, I heard you wrote a kidney-donation story. Cool! Can I read it?”

‘I hope it doesn’t feel too weird for your gift to have inspired works of art.’

Ten days later, Larson wrote back saying that yes, she was working on a story “about a woman who receives a kidney, partially inspired by how my imagination took off after learning of your own tremendous donation.” In her writing, she spun out a scenario based not on Dorland, she said, but on something else — themes that have always fascinated her. “I hope it doesn’t feel too weird for your gift to have inspired works of art,” Larson wrote.

Dorland wrote back within hours. She admitted to being “a little surprised,” especially “since we’re friends and you hadn’t mentioned it.” The next day, Larson replied, her tone a bit removed, stressing that her story was “not about you or your particular gift, but about narrative possibilities I began thinking about.”

But Dorland pressed on. “It’s the interpersonal layer that feels off to me, Sonya. … You seemed not to be aware of my donation until I pointed it out. But if you had already kicked off your fictional project at this time, well, I think your behavior is a little deceptive. At least, weird.”

Larson’s answer this time was even cooler. “Before this email exchange,” she wrote, “I hadn’t considered that my individual vocal support (or absence of it) was of much significance.”

Which, though it was shrouded in politesse, was a different point altogether. Who, Larson seemed to be saying, said we were such good friends?

For many years now, Dorland has been working on a sprawling novel, “Econoline,” which interweaves a knowing, present-day perspective with vivid, sometimes brutal but often romantic remembrances of an itinerant rural childhood. The van in the title is, she writes in a recent draft, “blue as a Ty-D-Bowl tablet. Bumbling on the highway, bulky and off-kilter, a junebug in the wind.” The family in the narrative survives on “government flour, canned juice and beans” and “ruler-long bricks of lard” that the father calls “commodities.”

Dorland is not shy about explaining how her past has afforded her a degree of moral clarity that others might not come by so easily. She was raised in near poverty in rural Iowa. Her parents moved around a lot, she told me, and the whole family lived under a stigma. One small consolation was the way her mother modeled a certain perverse self-reliance, rejecting the judgments of others. Another is how her turbulent youth has served as a wellspring for much of her writing. She made her way out of Iowa with a scholarship to Scripps College in California, followed by divinity school at Harvard. Unsure of what to do next, she worked day jobs in advertising in Boston while dabbling in workshops at the GrubStreet writing center. When she noticed classmates cooing over Marilynne Robinson’s novel “Housekeeping,” she picked up a copy. After inhaling its story of an eccentric small-town upbringing told with sensitive, all-seeing narration, she knew she wanted to become a writer.

At GrubStreet, Dorland eventually became one of several “teaching scholars” at the Muse conference, leading workshops on such topics as “Truth and Taboo: Writing Past Shame.” Dorland credits two members of the Chunky Monkeys group, Adam Stumacher and Chris Castellani, with advising her. But in hindsight, much of her GrubStreet experience is tied up with her memories of Sonya Larson. She thinks they first met at a one-off writing workshop Larson taught, though Larson, for her part, says she doesn’t remember this. Everybody at GrubStreet knew Larson — she was one of the popular, ever-present people who worked there. On nights out with other Grubbies, Dorland remembers Larson getting personal, confiding about an engagement, the death of someone she knew and plans to apply to M.F.A. programs — though Larson now says she shared such things widely. When a job at GrubStreet opened up, Larson encouraged her to apply. Even when she didn’t get it, everyone was so gracious about it, including Larson, that she felt included all the same.

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Now, as she read these strained emails from Larson — about this story of a kidney donation; her kidney donation? — Dorland wondered if everyone at GrubStreet had been playing a different game, with rules she’d failed to grasp. On July 15, 2016, Dorland’s tone turned brittle, even wounded: “Here was a friend entrusting something to you, making herself vulnerable to you. At least, the conclusion I can draw from your responses is that I was mistaken to consider us the friends that I did.”

Larson didn’t answer right away. Three days later, Dorland took her frustrations to Facebook, in a blind item: “I discovered that a writer friend has based a short story on something momentous I did in my own life, without telling me or ever intending to tell me (another writer tipped me off).” Still nothing from Larson.

Dorland waited another day and then sent her another message both in a text and in an email: “I am still surprised that you didn’t care about my personal feelings. … I wish you’d given me the benefit of the doubt that I wouldn’t interfere.” Yet again, no response.

The next day, on July 20, she wrote again: “Am I correct that you do not want to make peace? Not hearing from you sends that message.”

Larson answered this time. “I see that you’re merely expressing real hurt, and for that I am truly sorry,” she wrote on July 21. But she also changed gears a little. “I myself have seen references to my own life in others’ fiction, and it certainly felt weird at first. But I maintain that they have a right to write about what they want — as do I, and as do you.”

Hurt feelings or not, Larson was articulating an ideal — a principle she felt she and all writers ought to live up to. “For me, honoring another’s artistic freedom is a gesture of friendship,” Larson wrote, “and of trust.”



Image



Sonya Larson in Massachussetts.Credit...Kholood Eid for The New York Times

Like Dawn Dorland, Sonya Larson understands life as an outsider. The daughter of a Chinese American mother and white father, she was brought up in a predominantly white, middle-class enclave in Minnesota, where being mixed-race sometimes confused her. “It took me a while to realize the things I was teased about were intertwined with my race,” she told me over the phone from Somerville, where she lived with her husband and baby daughter. Her dark hair, her slight build: In a short story called “Gabe Dove,” which was picked for the 2017 edition of Best American Short Stories, Larson’s protagonist is a second-generation Asian American woman named Chuntao, who is used to men putting their fingers around her wrist and remarking on how narrow it is, almost as if she were a toy, a doll, a plaything.

Larson’s path toward writing was more conventional than Dorland’s. She started earlier, after her first creative-writing class at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. When she graduated, in 2005, she moved to Boston and walked into GrubStreet to volunteer the next day. Right away, she became one of a handful of people who kept the place running. In her fiction, Larson began exploring the sensitive subject matter that had always fascinated her: racial dynamics, and people caught between cultures. In time, she moved beyond mere political commentary to revel in her characters’ flaws — like a more socially responsible Philip Roth, though every bit as happy to be profane and fun and provocative. Even as she allows readers to be one step ahead of her characters, to see how they’re going astray, her writing luxuriates in the seductive power that comes from living an unmoored life. “He described thick winding streams and lush mountain gorges,” the rudderless Chuntao narrates in “Gabe Dove,” “obviously thinking I’d enjoy this window into my ancestral country, but in truth, I wanted to slap him.”

Chuntao, or a character with that name, turns up in many of Larson’s stories, as a sort of a motif — a little different each time Larson deploys her. She appears again in “The Kindest,” the story that Larson had been reading from at the Trident bookstore in 2016. Here, Chuntao is married, with an alcohol problem. A car crash precipitates the need for a new organ, and her whole family is hoping the donation will serve as a wake-up call, a chance for Chuntao to redeem herself. That’s when the donor materializes. White, wealthy and entitled, the woman who gave Chuntao her kidney is not exactly an uncomplicated altruist: She is a stranger to her own impulses, unaware of how what she considers a selfless act also contains elements of intense, unbridled narcissism.

In early drafts of the story, the donor character’s name was Dawn. In later drafts, Larson ended up changing the name to Rose. While Dorland no doubt was an inspiration, Larson argues that in its finished form, her story moved far beyond anything Dorland herself had ever said or done. But in every iteration of “The Kindest,” the donor says she wants to meet Chuntao to celebrate, to commune — only she really wants something more, something ineffable, like acknowledgment, or gratitude, or recognition, or love.

Still, they’re not so different, Rose and Chuntao. “I think they both confuse love with worship,” Larson told me. “And they both see love as something they have to go get; it doesn’t already exist inside of them.” All through “The Kindest,” love or validation operates almost like a commodity — a precious elixir that heals all pain. “The thing about the dying,” Chuntao narrates toward the end, “is they command the deepest respect, respect like an underground river resonant with primordial sounds, the kind of respect that people steal from one another.”

They aren’t entirely equal, however. While Chuntao is the story’s flawed hero, Rose is more a subject of scrutiny — a specimen to be analyzed. The study of the hidden motives of privileged white people comes naturally to Larson. “When you’re mixed-race, as I am, people have a way of ‘confiding’ in you,” she once told an interviewer. What they say, often about race, can be at odds with how they really feel. In “The Kindest,” Chuntao sees through Rose from the start. She knows what Rose wants — to be a white savior — and she won’t give it to her. (“So she’s the kindest bitch on the planet?” she says to her husband.) By the end, we may no longer feel a need to change Chuntao. As one critic in the literary journal Ploughshares wrote when the story was published in 2017: “Something has got to be admired about someone who returns from the brink of death unchanged, steadfast in their imperfections.”

For some readers, “The Kindest” is a rope-a-dope. If you thought this story was about Chuntao’s redemption, you’re as complicit as Rose. This, of course, was entirely intentional. Just before she wrote “The Kindest,” Larson helped run a session on race in her graduate program that became strangely contentious. “Many of the writers who identified as white were quite literally seeing the racial dynamics of what we were discussing very differently from the people of color in the room,” she said. “It was as if we were just simply talking past one another, and it was scary.” At the time, she’d been fascinated by “the dress” — that internet meme with a photo some see as black and blue and others as white and gold. Nothing interests Larson more than a thing that can be seen differently by two people, and she saw now how no subject demonstrates that better than race. She wanted to write a story that was like a Rorschach test, one that might betray the reader’s own hidden biases.

When reflecting on Chuntao, Larson often comes back to the character’s autonomy, her nerve. “She resisted,” she told me. Chuntao refused to become subsumed by Rose’s narrative. “And I admire that. And I think that small acts of refusal like that are things that people of color — and writers of color — in this country have to bravely do all the time.”

Larson and Dorland have each taken and taught enough writing workshops to know that artists, almost by definition, borrow from life. They transform real people and events into something invented, because what is the great subject of art — the only subject, really — if not life itself? This was part of why Larson seemed so unmoved by Dorland’s complaints. Anyone can be inspired by anything. And if you don’t like it, why not write about it yourself?

But to Dorland, this was more than just material. She’d become a public voice in the campaign for live-organ donation, and she felt some responsibility for representing the subject in just the right way. The potential for saving lives, after all, matters more than any story. And yes, this was also her own life — the crystallization of the most important aspects of her personality, from the traumas of her childhood to the transcending of those traumas today. Her proudest moment, she told me, hadn’t been the surgery itself, but making it past the psychological and other clearances required to qualify as a donor. “I didn’t do it in order to heal. I did it because I had healed — I thought.”

The writing world seemed more suspicious to her now. At around the time of her kidney donation, there was another writer, a published novelist, who announced a new book with a protagonist who, in its description, sounded to her an awful lot like the one in “Econoline” — not long after she shared sections of her work in progress with him. That author’s book hasn’t been published, and so Dorland has no way of knowing if she’d really been wronged, but this only added to her sense that the guard rails had fallen off the profession. Beyond unhindered free expression, Dorland thought, shouldn’t there be some ethics? “What do you think we owe one another as writers in community?” she would wonder in an email, several months later, to The Times’s “Dear Sugars” advice podcast. (The show never responded.) “How does a writer like me, not suited to jadedness, learn to trust again after artistic betrayal?”

‘I’m thinking, When did I record my letter with a voice actor? Because this voice actor was reading me the paragraph about my childhood trauma.’

By summer’s end, she and Sonya had forged a fragile truce. “I value our relationship and I regret my part in these miscommunications and misunderstandings,” Larson wrote on Aug. 16, 2016. Not long after, Dorland Googled “kidney” and “Sonya Larson” and a link turned up.

The story was available on Audible — an audio version, put out by a small company called Plympton. Dorland’s dread returned. In July, Larson told her, “I’m still working on the story.” Now here it was, ready for purchase.

She went back and forth about it, but finally decided not to listen to “The Kindest.” When I asked her about it, she took her time parsing that decision. “What if I had listened,” she said, “and just got a bad feeling, and just felt exploited. What was I going to do with that? What was I going to do with those emotions? There was nothing I thought I could do.”

So she didn’t click. “I did what I thought was artistically and emotionally healthy,” she said. “And also, it’s kind of what she had asked me to do.”

Dorland could keep ‘‘The Kindest” out of her life for only so long. In August 2017, the print magazine American Short Fiction published the short story. She didn’t buy a copy. Then in June 2018, she saw that the magazine dropped its paywall for the story. The promo and opening essay on American Short Fiction’s home page had startled her: a photograph of Larson, side-by-side with a shot of the short-fiction titan Raymond Carver. The comparison does make a certain sense: In Carver’s story “Cathedral,” a blind man proves to have better powers of perception than a sighted one; in “The Kindest,” the white-savior kidney donor turns out to need as much salvation as the Asian American woman she helped. Still, seeing Larson anointed this way was, to say the least, destabilizing.

Then she started to read the story. She didn’t get far before stopping short. Early on, Rose, the donor, writes a letter to Chuntao, asking to meet her.

I myself know something of suffering, but from those experiences I’ve acquired both courage and perseverance. I’ve also learned to appreciate the hardship that others are going through, no matter how foreign. Whatever you’ve endured, remember that you are never alone. … As I prepared to make this donation, I drew strength from knowing that my recipient would get a second chance at life. I withstood the pain by imagining and rejoicing in YOU.

Here, to Dorland’s eye, was an echo of the letter she’d written to her own recipient — and posted on her private Facebook group — rejiggered and reworded, yet still, she believed, intrinsically hers. Dorland was amazed. It had been three years since she donated her kidney. Larson had all that time to launder the letter — to rewrite it drastically or remove it — and she hadn’t bothered.

She showed the story’s letter to her husband, Chris, who had until that point given Larson the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh,” he said.

Everything that happened two years earlier, during their email melée, now seemed like gaslighting. Larson had been so insistent that Dorland was being out of line — breaking the rules, playing the game wrong, needing something she shouldn’t even want. “Basically, she’d said, ‘I think you’re being a bad art friend,’” Dorland told me. That argument suddenly seemed flimsy. Sure, Larson had a right to self-expression — but with someone else’s words? Who was the bad art friend now?

Before she could decide what to do, there came another shock. A few days after reading “The Kindest,” Dorland learned that the story was the 2018 selection for One City One Story, a common-reads program sponsored by the Boston Book Festival. That summer, some 30,000 copies of “The Kindest” would be distributed free all around town. An entire major U.S. city would be reading about a kidney donation — with Sonya Larson as the author.

This was when Dawn Dorland decided to push back — first a little, and then a lot. This wasn’t about art anymore; not Larson’s anyway. It was about her art, her letter, her words, her life. She shopped for a legal opinion: Did Larson’s use of that letter violate copyright law? Even getting a lawyer to look into that one little question seemed too expensive. But that didn’t stop her from contacting American Short Fiction and the Boston Book Festival herself with a few choice questions: What was their policy on plagiarism? Did they know they were publishing something that used someone else’s words? She received vague assurances they’d get back to her.

While waiting, she also contacted GrubStreet’s leadership: What did this supposedly supportive, equitable community have to say about plagiarism? She emailed the Bread Loaf writing conference in Vermont, where Larson once had a scholarship: What would they do if one of their scholars was discovered to have plagiarized? On privacy grounds, Bread Loaf refused to say if “The Kindest” was part of Larson’s 2017 application. But Dorland found more groups with a connection to Larson to notify, including the Vermont Studio Center and the Association of Literary Scholars, Critics and Writers.

When the Boston Book Festival told her they would not share the final text of the story, Dorland went a step further. She emailed two editors at The Boston Globe — wouldn’t they like to know if the author of this summer’s citywide common-reads short story was a plagiarist? And she went ahead and hired a lawyer, Jeffrey Cohen, who agreed she had a claim — her words, her letter, someone else’s story. On July 3, 2018, Cohen sent the book festival a cease-and-desist letter, demanding they hold off on distributing “The Kindest” for the One City One Story program, or risk incurring damages of up to $150,000 under the Copyright Act.

From Larson’s point of view, this wasn’t just ludicrous, it was a stickup. Larson had found her own lawyer, James Gregorio, who on July 17 replied that Dorland’s actions constitute “harassment, defamation per se and tortious interference with business and contractual relations.” Despite whatever similarities exist between the letters, Larson’s lawyer believed there could be no claim against her because, among other reasons, these letters that donors write are basically a genre; they follow particular conventions that are impossible to claim as proprietary. In July, Dorland’s lawyer suggested settling with the book festival for $5,000 (plus an attribution at the bottom of the story, or perhaps a referral link to a kidney-donor site). Larson’s camp resisted talks when they learned that Dorland had contacted The Globe.

‘This is not about a white savior narrative. It’s about us and our sponsor and our board not being sued if we distribute the story.'

In reality, Larson was pretty vulnerable: an indemnification letter in her contract with the festival meant that if Dorland did sue, she would incur the costs. What no one had counted on was that Dorland, in late July, would stumble upon a striking new piece of evidence. Searching online for more mentions of “The Kindest,” she saw something available for purchase. At first this seemed to be a snippet of the Audible version of the story, created a year before the American Short Fiction version. But in fact, this was something far weirder: a recording of an even earlier iteration of the story. When Dorland listened to this version, she heard something very different — particularly the letter from the donor.

Dorland’s letter:

Personally, my childhood was marked by trauma and abuse; I didn’t have the opportunity to form secure attachments with my family of origin. A positive outcome of my early life is empathy, that it opened a well of possibility between me and strangers. While perhaps many more people would be motivated to donate an organ to a friend or family member in need, to me, the suffering of strangers is just as real.

Larson’s audio version of the story:

My own childhood was marked by trauma and abuse; I wasn’t given an opportunity to form secure attachments with my family of origin. But in adulthood that experience provided a strong sense of empathy. While others might desire to give to a family member or friend, to me the suffering of strangers is just as real.

“I almost fell off my chair,” Dorland said. “I’m thinking, When did I record my letter with a voice actor? Because this voice actor was reading me the paragraph about my childhood trauma. To me it was just bizarre.” It confirmed, in her eyes, that Larson had known she had a problem: She had altered the letter after Dorland came to her with her objections in 2016.

Dorland’s lawyer increased her demand to $10,000 — an amount Dorland now says was to cover her legal bills, but that the other side clearly perceived as another provocation. She also contacted her old GrubStreet friends — members of the Chunky Monkeys whom she now suspected had known all about what Larson was doing. “Why didn’t either of you check in with me when you knew that Sonya’s kidney story was related to my life?” she emailed the group’s founders, Adam Stumacher and Jennifer De Leon. Stumacher responded, “I have understood from the start this is a work of fiction.” Larson’s friends were lining up behind her.

In mid-August, Dorland learned that Larson had made changes to “The Kindest” for the common-reads program. In this new version, every similar phrase in the donor’s letter was reworded. But there was something new: At the end of the letter, instead of closing with “Warmly,” Larson had switched it to “Kindly.”

With that one word — the signoff she uses in her emails — Dorland felt trolled. “She thought that it would go to press and be read by the city of Boston before I realized that she had jabbed me in the eye,” Dorland said. (Larson, for her part, told me that the change was meant as “a direct reference to the title; it’s really as simple as that.”) Dorland’s lawyer let the festival know she wasn’t satisfied — that she still considered the letter in the story to be a derivative work of her original. If the festival ran the story, she’d sue.

This had become Sonya Larson’s summer of hell. What had started with her reaching heights she’d never dreamed of — an entire major American city as her audience, reading a story she wrote, one with an important message about racial dynamics — was ending with her under siege, her entire career in jeopardy, and all for what she considered no reason at all: turning life into art, the way she thought that any writer does.

Larson had tried working the problem. When, in June, an executive from the book festival first came to her about Dorland, Larson offered to “happily” make changes to “The Kindest.” “I remember that letter, and jotted down phrases that I thought were compelling, though in the end I constructed the fictional letter to suit the character of Rose,” she wrote to the festival. “I admit, however, that I’m not sure what they are — I don’t have a copy of that letter.” There was a moment, toward the end of July, when it felt as if she would weather the storm. The festival seemed fine with the changes she made to the story. The Globe did publish something, but with little impact.

Then Dorland found that old audio version of the story online, and the weather changed completely. Larson tried to argue that this wasn’t evidence of plagiarism, but proof that she’d been trying to avoid plagiarism. Her lawyer told The Globe that Larson had asked the audio publisher to make changes to her story on July 15, 2016 — in the middle of her first tense back-and-forth with Dorland — because the text “includes a couple sentences that I’d excerpted from a real-life letter.” In truth, Larson had been frustrated by the situation. “She seemed to think that she had ownership over the topic of kidney donation,” Larson recalled in an email to the audio publisher in 2018. “It made me realize that she is very obsessive.”

It was then, in August 2018, facing this new onslaught of plagiarism claims, that Larson stopped playing defense. She wrote a statement to The Globe declaring that anyone who sympathized with Dorland’s claims afforded Dorland a certain privilege. “My piece is fiction,” she wrote. “It is not her story, and my letter is not her letter. And she shouldn’t want it to be. She shouldn’t want to be associated with my story’s portrayal and critique of white-savior dynamics. But her recent behavior, ironically, is exhibiting the very blindness I’m writing about, as she demands explicit identification in — and credit for — a writer of color’s work.”

Here was a new argument, for sure. Larson was accusing Dorland of perverting the true meaning of the story — making it all about her, and not race and privilege. Larson’s friend Celeste Ng agrees, at least in part, that the conflict seemed racially coded. “There’s very little emphasis on what this must be like for Sonya,” Ng told me, “and what it is like for writers of color, generally — to write a story and then be told by a white writer, ‘Actually, you owe that to me.’”

‘I feel instead of running the race herself, she’s standing on the sidelines and trying to disqualify everybody else based on minor technicalities.’

But Ng also says this wasn’t just about race; it was about art and friendship. Ng told me that Larson’s entire community believed Dorland needed to be stopped in her tracks — to keep an unreasonable writer from co-opting another writer’s work on account of just a few stray sentences, and destroying that writer’s reputation in the process. “This is not someone that I am particularly fond of,” Ng told me, “because she had been harassing my friend and a fellow writer. So we were quite exercised, I will say.”

Not that it mattered. Dorland would not stand down. And so, on Aug. 13, Deborah Porter, the executive director of the Boston Book Festival, told Larson that One City One Story was canceled for the year. “There is seemingly no end to this,” she wrote, “and we cannot afford to spend any more time or resources.” When the Chunky Monkeys’ co-founder, Jennifer De Leon, made a personal appeal, invoking the white-savior argument, the response from Porter was like the slamming of a door. “That story should never have been submitted to us in the first place,” Porter wrote. “This is not about a white savior narrative. It’s about us and our sponsor and our board not being sued if we distribute the story. You owe us an apology.”

Porter then emailed Larson, too. “It seems to me that we have grounds to sue you,” she wrote to Larson. “Kindly ask your friends not to write to us.”

Here, it would seem, is where the conflict ought to end — Larson in retreat, “The Kindest” canceled. But neither side was satisfied. Larson, her reputation hanging by a thread, needed assurances that Dorland would stop making her accusations. Dorland still wanted Larson to explicitly, publicly admit that her words were in Larson’s story. She couldn’t stop wondering — what if Larson published a short-story collection? Or even a novel that spun out of “The Kindest?” She’d be right back here again.

On Sept. 6, 2018, Dorland’s lawyer raised her demand to $15,000, and added a new demand that Larson promise to pay Dorland $180,000 should she ever violate the settlement terms (which included never publishing “The Kindest” again). Larson saw this as an even greater provocation; her lawyer replied three weeks later with a lengthy litany of allegedly defamatory claims that Dorland had made about Larson. Who, he was asking, was the real aggressor here? How could anyone believe that Dorland was the injured party? “It is a mystery exactly how Dorland was damaged,” Larson’s new lawyer, Andrew Epstein, wrote. “My client’s gross receipts from ‘The Kindest’ amounted to $425.”

To Dorland, all this felt intensely personal. Someone snatches her words, and then accuses her of defamation too? Standing down seemed impossible now: How could she admit to defaming someone, she thought, when she was telling the truth? She’d come too far, spent too much on legal fees to quit. “I was desperate to recoup that money,” Dorland told me. She reached out to an arbitration-and-mediation service in California. When Andrew Epstein didn’t respond to the mediator, she considered suing Larson in small-claims court.

On Dec. 26, Dorland emailed Epstein, asking if he was the right person to accept the papers when she filed a lawsuit. As it happened, Larson beat her to the courthouse. On Jan. 30, 2019, Dorland and her lawyer, Cohen, were both sued in federal court, accused of defamation and tortious interference — that is, spreading lies about Larson and trying to tank her career.

There’s a moment in Larson’s short story “Gabe Dove” — also pulled from real life — where Chuntao notices a white family picnicking on a lawn in a park and is awed to see that they’ve all peacefully fallen asleep. “I remember going to college and seeing people just dead asleep on the lawn or in the library,” Larson told me. “No fear that harm will come to you or that people will be suspicious of you. That’s a real privilege right there.”

Larson’s biggest frustration with Dorland’s accusations was that they stole attention away from everything she’d been trying to accomplish with this story. “You haven’t asked me one question about the source of inspiration in my story that has to do with alcoholism, that has to do with the Chinese American experience. It’s extremely selective and untrue to pin a source of a story on just one thing. And this is what fiction writers know.” To ask if her story is about Dorland is, Larson argues, not only completely beside the point, but ridiculous. “I have no idea what Dawn is thinking. I don’t, and that’s not my job to know. All I can tell you about is how it prompted my imagination.” That also, she said, is what artists do. “We get inspired by language, and we play with that language, and we add to it and we change it and we recontextualize it. And we transform it.”

When Larson discusses “The Kindest” now, the idea that it’s about a kidney donation at all seems almost irrelevant. If that hadn’t formed the story’s pretext, she believes, it would have been something else. “It’s like saying that ‘Moby Dick’ is a book about whales,” she said. As for owing Dorland a heads-up about the use of that donation, Larson becomes more indignant, stating that no artist has any such responsibility. “If I walk past my neighbor and he’s planting petunias in the garden, and I think, Oh, it would be really interesting to include a character in my story who is planting petunias in the garden, do I have to go inform him because he’s my neighbor, especially if I’m still trying to figure out what it is I want to say in the story? I just couldn’t disagree more.”

But this wasn’t a neighbor. This was, ostensibly, a friend.

“There are married writer couples who don’t let each other read each other’s work,” Larson said. “I have no obligation to tell anyone what I’m working on.”

By arguing what she did is standard practice, Larson is asking a more provocative question: If you find her guilty of infringement, who’s next? Is any writer safe? “I read Dawn’s letter and I found it interesting,” she told me. “I never copied the letter. I was interested in these words and phrases because they reminded me of the language used by white-savior figures. And I played with this language in early drafts of my story. Fiction writers do this constantly.”

This is the same point her friends argue when defending her to me. “You take a seed, right?” Adam Stumacher said. “And then that’s the starting point for a story. That’s not what the story is about.” This is where “The Kindest” shares something with “Cat Person,” the celebrated 2017 short story in The New Yorker by Kristen Roupenian that, in a recent essay in Slate, a woman named Alexis Nowicki claimed used elements of her life story. That piece prompted a round of outrage from Writer Twitter (“I have held every human I’ve ever met upside down by the ankles,” the author Lauren Groff vented, “and shaken every last detail that I can steal out of their pockets”).

“The Kindest,” however, contains something that “Cat Person” does not: an actual piece of text that even Larson says was inspired by Dorland’s original letter. At some point, Larson must have realized that was the story’s great legal vulnerability. Did she ever consider just pulling it out entirely?

“Yeah, that absolutely was an option,” Larson said. “We could have easily treated the same moment in that story using a phone call, or some other literary device.” But once she made those changes for One City One Story, she said, the festival had told her the story was fine as is. (That version of “The Kindest” ended up in print elsewhere, as part of an anthology published in 2019 by Ohio University’s Swallow Press.) All that was left, she believes, was a smear campaign. “It’s hard for me to see what the common denominator of all of her demands has been, aside from wanting to punish me in some way.”

Dorland filed a counterclaim against Larson on April 24, 2020, accusing Larson of violating the copyright of her letter and intentional infliction of emotional distress — sleeplessness, anxiety, depression, panic attacks, weight loss “and several incidents of self-harm.” Dorland says she’d had some bouts of slapping herself, which dissipated after therapy. (This wasn’t her first lawsuit claiming emotional distress. A few years earlier, Dorland filed papers in small-claims court against a Los Angeles writing workshop where she’d taught, accusing the workshop of mishandling a sexual-harassment report she had made against a student. After requesting several postponements, she withdrew the complaint.) As for her new complaint against Larson, the judge knocked out the emotional-distress claim this past February, but the question of whether “The Kindest” violates Dorland’s copyrighted letter remains in play.

The litigation crept along quietly until earlier this year, when the discovery phase uncorked something unexpected — a trove of documents that seemed to recast the conflict in an entirely new way. There, in black and white, were pages and pages of printed texts and emails between Larson and her writer friends, gossiping about Dorland and deriding everything about her — not just her claim of being appropriated but the way she talked publicly about her kidney donation.

“I’m now following Dawn Dorland’s kidney posts with creepy fascination,” Whitney Scharer, a GrubStreet co-worker and fellow Chunky Monkey, texted to Larson in October 2015 — the day after Larson sent her first draft of “The Kindest” to the group. Dorland had announced she’d be walking in the Rose Bowl parade, as an ambassador for nondirected organ donations. “I’m thrilled to be part of their public face,” Dorland wrote, throwing in a few hashtags: #domoreforeachother and #livingkidneydonation.

Larson replied: “Oh, my god. Right? The whole thing — though I try to ignore it — persists in making me uncomfortable. … I just can’t help but think that she is feeding off the whole thing. … Of course, I feel evil saying this and can’t really talk with anyone about it.”

“I don’t know,” Scharer wrote. “A hashtag seems to me like a cry for attention.”

“Right??” Larson wrote. “#domoreforeachother. Like, what am I supposed to do? DONATE MY ORGANS?”

Among her friends, Larson clearly explained the influence of Dorland’s letter. In January 2016, she texted two friends: “I think I’m DONE with the kidney story but I feel nervous about sending it out b/c it literally has sentences that I verbatim grabbed from Dawn’s letter on FB. I’ve tried to change it but I can’t seem to — that letter was just too damn good. I’m not sure what to do … feeling morally compromised/like a good artist but a shitty person.”

That summer, when Dorland emailed Larson with her complaints, Larson was updating the Chunky Monkeys regularly, and they were encouraging her to stand her ground. “This is all very excruciating,” Larson wrote on July 18, 2016. “I feel like I am becoming the protagonist in my own story: She wants something from me, something that she can show to lots of people, and I’m not giving it.”

“Maybe she was too busy waving from her floating thing at a Macy’s Day parade,” wrote Jennifer De Leon, “instead of, you know, writing and stuff.”

Others were more nuanced. “It’s totally OK for Dawn to be upset,” Celeste Ng wrote, “but it doesn’t mean that Sonya did anything wrong, or that she is responsible for fixing Dawn’s hurt feelings.”

“I can understand the anxiety,” Larson replied. “I just think she’s trying to control something that she doesn’t have the ability or right to control.”

“The first draft of the story really was a takedown of Dawn, wasn’t it?” Calvin Hennick wrote. “But Sonya didn’t publish that draft. … She created a new, better story that used Dawn’s Facebook messages as initial inspiration, but that was about a lot of big things, instead of being about the small thing of taking down Dawn Dorland.”

On Aug. 15, 2016 — a day before telling Dorland, “I value our relationship” — Larson wrote in a chat with Alison Murphy: “Dude, I could write pages and pages more about Dawn. Or at least about this particular narcissistic dynamic, especially as it relates to race. The woman is a gold mine!”

Later on, Larson was even more emboldened. “If she tries to come after me, I will FIGHT BACK!” she wrote Murphy in 2017. Murphy suggested renaming the story “Kindly, Dawn,” prompting Larson to reply, “HA HA HA.”

Dorland learned about the emails — a few hundred pages of them — from her new lawyer, Suzanne Elovecky, who read them first and warned her that they might be triggering. When she finally went through them, she saw what she meant. The Chunky Monkeys knew the donor in “The Kindest” was Dorland, and they were laughing at her. Everything she’d dreaded and feared about raising her voice — that so many writers she revered secretly dismissed and ostracized her; that absolutely no one except her own lawyers seemed to care that her words were sitting there, trapped inside someone else’s work of art; that a slew of people, supposedly her friends, might actually believe she’d donated an organ just for the likes — now seemed completely confirmed, with no way to sugarcoat it. “It’s like I became some sort of dark-matter mascot to all of them somehow,” she said.

But there also was something clarifying about it. Now more than ever, she believes that “The Kindest” was personal. “I think she wanted me to read her story,” Dorland said, “and for me and possibly no one else to recognize my letter.”

Larson, naturally, finds this outrageous. “Did I feel some criticism toward the way that Dawn was posting about her kidney donation?” she said. “Yes. But am I trying to write a takedown of Dawn? No. I don’t care about Dawn.” All the gossiping about Dorland, now made public, would seem to put Larson into a corner. But many of the writer friends quoted in those texts and emails (those who responded to requests for comment) say they still stand behind her; if they were ridiculing Dorland, it was all in the service of protecting their friend. “I’m very fortunate to have friends in my life who I’ve known for 10, 20, over 30 years,” Larson told me. “I do not, and have never, considered Dawn one of them.”

What about the texts where she says that Dorland is behaving just like her character? Here, Larson chose her words carefully. “Dawn might behave like the character in my story,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that the character in my story is behaving like Dawn. I know she’s trying to work through every angle she can to say that I’ve done something wrong. I have not done anything wrong.”

In writing, plagiarism is a straight-up cardinal sin: If you copy, you’re wrong. But in the courts, copyright infringement is an evolving legal concept. The courts are continuously working out the moment when someone’s words cross over into property that can be protected; as with any intellectual property, the courts have to balance the protections of creators with a desire not to stifle innovation. One major help to Dorland, however, is the rights that the courts have given writers over their own unpublished letters, even after they’re sent to someone else. J.D. Salinger famously prevented personal letters from being quoted by a would-be biographer. They were his property, the courts said, not anyone else’s. Similarly, Dorland could argue that this letter, despite having made its way onto Facebook, qualifies.

Let’s say the courts agree that Dorland’s letter is protected. What then? Larson’s main defense may be that the most recent version of the letter in “The Kindest” — the one significantly reworded for the book festival — simply doesn’t include enough material from Dorland’s original to rise to the level of infringement. This argument is, curiously, helped by how Larson has always, when it has come down to it, acknowledged Dorland’s letter as an influence. The courts like it when you don’t hide what you’ve done, according to Daniel Novack, chairman of the New York State Bar Association’s committee on media law. “You don’t want her to be punished for being clear about where she got it from,” he said. “If anything, that helps people find the original work.”

Larson’s other strategy is to argue that by repurposing snippets of the letter in this story, it qualifies as “transformative use,” and could never be mistaken for the original. Arguing transformative use might require arguing that a phrase of Larson’s like “imagining and rejoicing in YOU” has a different inherent meaning from the phrase in Dorland’s letter “imagining and celebrating you.” While they are similar, Larson’s lawyer, Andrew Epstein, argues that the story overall is different, and makes the letter different. “It didn’t steal from the letter,” he told me, “but it added something new and it was a totally different narrative.”

Larson put it more bluntly to me: “Her letter, it wasn’t art! It was informational. It doesn’t have market value. It’s like language that we glean from menus, from tombstones, from tweets. And Dorland ought to know this. She’s taken writing workshops.”

Transformative use most often turns up in cases of commentary or satire, or with appropriation artists like Andy Warhol. The idea is not to have such strong copyright protections that people can’t innovate. While Larson may have a case, one potential wrinkle is a recent federal ruling, just earlier this year, against the Andy Warhol Foundation. An appeals court determined that Warhol’s use of a photograph by Lynn Goldsmith as the basis for his own work of art was not a distinctive enough transformation. Whether Larson’s letter is derivative, in the end, may be up to a jury to decide. Dorland’s lawyer, meanwhile, can point to that 2016 text message of Larson’s, when she says she tried to reword the letter but just couldn’t. (“That letter was just too damn good.”)

“The whole reason they want it in the first place is because it’s special,” Dorland told me. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t bother.”

If anything, the letter, for Dorland, has only grown more important over time. While Larson openly wonders why Dorland doesn’t just write about her donation her own way — “I feel instead of running the race herself, she’s standing on the sidelines and trying to disqualify everybody else based on minor technicalities,” Larson told me — Dorland sometimes muses, however improbably, that because vestiges of her letter remain in Larson’s story, Larson might actually take her to court and sue her for copyright infringement if she published any parts of the letter. It’s almost as if Dorland believes that Larson, by getting there first, has grabbed some of the best light, leaving nothing for her.

Last year, as the pandemic set in, Dorland attended three different online events that featured Larson as a panelist. The third one, in August, was a Cambridge Public Library event featuring many of the Chunky Monkeys, gathering online to discuss what makes for a good writing group. “I know virtually all of them,” Dorland said. “It was just like seeing friends.”

Larson, while on camera, learned that Dorland’s name was on the attendees list, and her heart leapt into her throat. Larson’s life had moved on in so many ways. She’d published another story. She and her husband had just had their baby. Now Larson was with her friends, talking about the importance of community. And there was Dorland, the woman who’d branded her a plagiarist, watching her. “It really just freaks me out,” Larson said. “At times I’ve felt kind of stalked.”

Dorland remembers that moment, too, seeing Larson’s face fall, convinced she was the reason. There was, for lack of a better word, a connection. When I asked how she felt in that moment, Dorland was slow to answer. It’s not as if she meant for it to happen, she said. Still, it struck her as telling.

“To me? It seemed like she had dropped the facade for a minute. I’m not saying that — I don’t want her to feel scared, because I’m not threatening. To me, it seemed like she knew she was full of shit, to put it bluntly — like, in terms of our dispute, that she was going to be found out.”

Then Dorland quickly circled back and rejected the premise of the question. There was nothing strange at all, Dorland said, about her watching three different events featuring Larson. She was watching, she said, to conduct due diligence for her ongoing case. And, she added, seeing Larson there seemed to be working for her as a sort of exposure therapy — to defuse the hurt she still feels, by making Larson something more real and less imagined, to diminish the space that she takes up in her mind, in her life.

“I think it saves me from villainizing Sonya,” she wrote me later, after our call. “I proceed in this experience as an artist and not an adversary, learning and absorbing everything, making use of it eventually.”

Robert Kolker is a writer based in Brooklyn, N.Y. In 2020, his book “Hidden Valley Road” became a selection of Oprah’s Book Club and a New York Times best seller. His last article for the magazine was about the legacy of Jan Baalsrud, the Norwegian World War II hero.

Correction: Oct. 6, 2021

An earlier version of this article misstated the GrubStreet writing center's action after Dorland's initial questions about potential plagiarism. It did reply; it's not the case that she received no response. The article also misstated Dorland’s thoughts on what could happen if she loses the court case. Dorland said she fears that Larson would be able to sue her for copyright infringement should she publish her letter to the end recipient of the kidney donation chain. It is not the case that she said she fears that Larson might be able to sue her for copyright infringement should she write anything about organ donation.

[ouyang-zizhen]

Headcanon, part 2

So, I’ve seen a few posts in which ZiZhen has plenty of siblings due to his dad being old and all, and I raise you with: ZiZhen has many moms.

A total of 6, to be precise, would have been 7 if his own mother had survive. So here’s the thing:

1 - ZiZhen is an only child.

2 - His father realized, after marrying his third wife, that the problem of conception does not lie with the women he beds but with his own genetic. He’s still hoping it might happen with the right woman though. 

3 - ZiZhen is pretty much a miracle baby from an infertile (but not sterile) father.

4 - His mother was the first wife. After she died, the second concubine got that title. The third concubine arrived a year after the first wife’s death. 

5 - Ouyang Dad still tried to have more kids, marrying 3 more women, yet never earning any results (3 more instead of 2, because 4 is a bad omen). 

6 - He would have kept only those, but his fourth wife got badly sick and she was expected to die within the year. Not wanting to keep only 4 women in his household (again, bad omen), he took another wife during that time. The fourth wife survived, and they are now 6 in total. 

7 - All the wives, fully aware they’ll never have a child of their own unless Ouyang Dad adopts (which is unlikely), dotes on ZiZhen like he is their own son. 

8 - The second concubine, now first wife, was raised in the Meishan Yu sect, although not part of the main Yu clan. Her family has been part of the sect for three generations. She is the third daughter.

9 - When the Second Concubine married into the Baling sect, ZiZhen’s mom was still childless. She got pregnant with ZiZhen a year or so after the arrival of the Second Concubine, who also remained childless.

10 - ZiZhen knows many stories of his mother through the bedtime tales of the Second Concubine.

11 - The third concubine is from YunMeng. She was a dancer, born from a rogue cultivator, who taught her to train her golden core, and a dancer, who taught her the skills she made a livelihood of after her parents death when she was 16. She was 19 when she joined the OuYang household. 

12 - She and the Second Concubine slowly fell for each other and became lovers. 

13 - ZiZhen once caught them kissing. They both told him beautiful stories of soulmates and how easily those bonds can be broken by the cruelty of the world. ZiZhen listened with rapture and promised never to tell a soul about what he saw, for his aunties were true soulmates. (Yes, they both manipulated ZiZhen into not telling his father of what he saw).

14 - That moment sparked ZiZhen’s interest in love stories and slowly shaped him into the romantic he is. 

15 - He later understood what Second and Third concubine truly meant by their story. It fueled his passion for WangXian more than anything. 

16 - The Fourth Concubine was from the Chang clan. She got sick after hearing of their horrible death at the hands of Xue Yang, and how the latter escaped justice for it. Her cultivation has always been weaker than most, which is why she was thought to die from her pain, but, with the help of Second and Third Concubines, she got through. Her body still does not allow her to travel very far, but she enjoys taking long walks in the gardens of the previous First Wife, lovingly tended to by she and the other concubines. 

17 - During her recovery, she began to write stories to keep herself entertained.

18 - ZiZhen is her most fervent fan, always poking in her rooms to have a sneak peek of her next story. 

19 - Because of the involvement of the Jin Clan in the absence of justice for the Chang, she is the most suspicious of the budding relationship between ZiZhen and Jin Ling. While not outright disagreeing, she always keeps her eyes open to any clues that might tell Jin Ling is not right for ZiZhen.

20 - The Fifth Concubine is the 5th daughter of a rich Baling family. She was raised in the sect, developing a strong core, often helping Young Master ZiZhen, age 14 by now, to train. At age 25, still unmarried, the Fifth Concubine was noticed for the first time by OuYang Dad, on a day she actually bothered to dress nicely. She went back to what I would call an “Ancient Chinese Butch Look” shortly after the wedding. 

21 - Fifth Concubine then proceeded to thoroughly seduce Second, Third and Fourth Concubine into a relationship all together. Their laughter can often be heard in the courtyard linking each of their pavillion together. 

22 - Sixth Concubine was a rogue cultivator herself. Fifth Concubine saw her at the market one day. They talked and fell in love. Fifth Concubine, with the help of Second, Third and Fourth, who also met Sixth and were charmed, managed to convince her husband to take Sixth in with them. “Four is a bad omen husband, you need another one of us!”

23 - When Fourth fell sick, that’s when OuYang Dad hurriedly tried to find Seventh Concubine. She was a merchant’s daughter, selling her father’s ware at the market. Ouyang Dad tried to haggle something much cheaper than it was worth. She stood her ground. He asked to marry her. 

24 - She refused at first. “I am not a cultivator, what am I bringing to you?” OuYang Dad, at this point trying one last time before calling it quit, decided that maybe it would work, a baby with a non-cultivator. 

25 - It did not work. But Seventh is pretty happy with her lot. She’s well taken care of, especially by the other concubine who all warmly welcomed her, and they all promised to take care of her the same, even once she’s old and grey. 

26 - So ZiZhen is really well loved by his father’s remaining 6 wives. That’s where he gets his “Respect Women” juice from. 

27 - The only reason why he’s been feeling down lately with his father’s expectations and mistreatment is because said father also cut the time ZiZhen is allowed to spend with them, he has “Sect Related Duties” now, he doesn’t have the time to play around anymore. 

28 - The Wives eventually called bullshit. ZiZhen has been feeling better ever since. 

29 - OuYang Dad is painfully oblivious to his Wives relationship together. He is just happy none of them are giving him any headaches. 

30 - One day, Jiggy went to Ouyang Dad and congratulated him on the harmony of his household. Jiggy, of course, thought he would be subtly blackmailing OuYang Dad with the scandal of his wives together (where did he learnt that? Fuck if I know!), but Oblivious OuYang just smiled and thanked him, which kinda messed up Jiggy’s plan. Not that he needed to blackmail Sect Leader OuYang, but it’s always useful to do so. Anyway, Jiggy left the conversation thinking Ouyang Dad thought everyone knew already and he was happy with it. 

31 - Eventually, Ouyang Dad DID learn the truth, well into ZiZhen’s 20′s. He got mad for about 5 minutes before calming down. “At least they can’t get pregnant from this, it won’t bring me any shame.”

32 - He lets them be, especially since they let him be. He enjoys his quiet evenings away from whatever his wives are doing. 

33 - Which is ironic considering he is friends with one of the loudest mouths in the Cultivation world, Sect Leader Yao. 

34 - All the wives avoid him like the plague whenever he visits Baling. 

35 - All the wives having a golden core, they go to Night Hunts together from time to time. Seventh sometimes tags along despite not having a golden core, while Fourth tends to stay at home after her sickness. 

36 - They are all very careful though, since they know ZiZhen’s mother died during a Night Hunt and they all promised ZiZhen they would not be careless.

37 - ZiZhen started calling the Concubines “Autie”, but one day, he accidentally called Fourth “Mom”, and all the others got jealous and wanted to be called “Mom” too, so he now calls them First mom, Second mom, Third mom, etc.

38 - He uses a different, more childish word when talking about his deceased birth mother. 

Aaaaaand that’s it for tonight folks! I know some of what I’ve written gets change a little now that I have this headcanon in mind, but I’ll keep this for whatever’s coming next in the OG world (well, canon-divergence world now XD). See you guys soon with some new OS!

[x-wingkc]

Sexy Ice Cream

Fanfiction: Stargate SG-1 Rating: Mature (no explicit) Warnings: Adult language, Adult content, Relationships: Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill Fictober 21 Prompts: #13 He walked inside the building just as Daniel walked to the counter to get the ice cream for everyone. This was their favorite ice cream place. They’d been coming here for at least eight years now. The ice cream was homemade. The building was an old saloon from the 1800’s. The inside was lined with wood panels that stood the test of time.

They all had their favorites. Teal’c always got the flavor of the week, no matter how awful it sounded. He said it was his way of making sure he ingested all of Earth’s sweet delights. Daniel almost always got something that had the store’s french vanilla as a base. Carter would normally get something with strawberries, and if they didn’t have that, she’d get something with caramel. O’Neill was a simple man. Normally opting only for vanilla or chocolate. He was the last to arrive. He entered the store and found where they were sitting. He moved seats to sit at the round table across from Carter. Teal’c was still standing, and had his back turned to him. He glanced over at Carter, and found her smiling and talking to Teal’c. He was lost in her smile.

Her smile has always been what comforts him. Her smile is what immediately attracted him to her all those years ago. Her smile is burned in his mind and in his soul. She glanced over at him.

He knew he must have had his fuck me eyes on because the moment she looked at him, he watched her eyes darken, and her smile soften. He wanted nothing more than to take her home and open her up on the deck right now.

Daniel came out with an ice cream cone for all four of them. He sat down next to Carter and they all started eating.

Transposed to the time warp of the decor were the stainless freezers that held about twenty-five different homemade flavors of ice cream. The lighting was a mix of replica chandeliers and LED fixtures in the ceiling that added some much needed light to the otherwise dark interior. He figured under different circumstances that the inside could be rather romantic.

Hanging on the walls were old pictures of what Main Street used to look like back in the early days of the city. The street looked as if it ended at the foot of the mountains. Present day the road was paved and had parking spaces for cars. But in the old pictures, there were just a few buildings and a dirt road.

All four of them talked in between bites of ice cream. O’Neill was to fly back to DC in two more days. Carter smiled across the table at him as he discussed his endless boring meetings. They all knew he hated paperwork. Now that’s all he does. The three of them knowingly smiled at him. He told them all to shut up.

O’Neill looked over at Carter just as a little bit of melted ice cream began to run down her hand. She lifted her cone to her mouth, and ran her tongue along her hand, up the side of the cone, and around the remaining scoop of ice cream at the top. O’Neill straightened in his seat, and crossed his legs a little. He noticed a familiar twitch between his legs as he watched Carter lick that cone.

She let out a satisfactory moan, and closed her eyes as she ingested the tasty frozen treat that she was holding in her hand. Daniel gave her a sideways glance, then immediately looked to Teal’c. Teal’c had one eyebrow raised already, and he was looking at O’Neill. Teal’c found O’Neill staring at Carter, not able to remove his eyes from the scene in front of him.

Daniel and Teal’c began to rapidly eat their ice cream, and immediately tried to change the topic.

“So. T. New fedora?” Daniel asked. “It is, indeed, DanielJackson,” T replied. “It’s a good color on you,” O’Neill interjected. Teal’c bowed his head to them both before taking another large bite off of his cone.

Carter then let some ice cream drip down her chin. She stared at O’Neill, her eyes darkening knowing exactly what she was doing to him. With her mouth slightly open, she took her index finger and wiped the drip off of the side of her mouth. She salaciously stuck the sticky, sweet finger into her mouth, and swirled her tongue around her finger.

All three of the men at the table saw her do that. One of the men at the table immediately had a problem. There was no way he could stand up right now and not have everyone in the store know what Carter had done to him. He reached beside him to the garbage can, and threw the rest of his ice cream cone away. “Does the ice cream not please you, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, almost with a smile on his face. “Teal’c. Was that a joke?” O’Neill asked.. “It was, indeed, O’Neill.”

Carter slowly licked her lips as she continued to stare at O’Neill. “Well, gentlemen. I have to go. I have dinner plans with Doctor Lam,” Carter said, slowly standing and reaching over to the garbage can to throw the remainder of her cone away.

Daniel and Teal’c also stood quickly, more to get out of the cross fire of tension between their two best friends. “Ya. Us too. Ready, T?” Daniel quickly asked. “I am, indeed, DanielJackson.”

“You, uh, need help, Jack?” Daniel asked like a true smartass would in this situation. “Funny. I’m fine,” O'Neill quipped back. “You sure, sir?” Carter asked with her chest puffed out a little bit, and a sinful smile on her face.

O’Neill just smiled back at her with pure lust on his face. “Oh, I’m very fine, Carter. Have a good dinner,” he said, waving his hand for all of them to just go and leave him alone.

They each smiled or laughed at him, then all three turned to leave the ice cream store. As the door closed behind them, Daniel and Carter laughed, and Teal’c just cleared his throat. “You know. You really are mean,” Daniel said. “He’ll be fine. He always is,” Carter said with a smile. “Indeed,” they heard Teal’c.

Back inside the store, O’Neill squeezed his legs together one more time before trying to stand up. He discreetly put a hand between his legs and arranged himself so he was not so obvious. Thankfully he had on baggy pants and an oversized flannel shirt to help hide this predicament. “Damn that woman,” he whispered to himself.

After a few minutes, he stood and quickly left the store. He went straight for his truck, and fumbled his keys as he tried to unlock the doors. He finally got the door open, and sunk into the seat. He started the truck, and locked the doors.

He undid his pants, and ran his palm over his bulging shaft trying to relieve the pressure that Carter had left him with. He put his head back on the head rest, and lightly caressed himself as he took in big breaths.

“Dammit, Carter. The things you make me do…”

When he thought he could drive, he put his seatbelt on and started the drive home. But he couldn’t stop thinking of Carter and the ice cream. He wanted to tie Carter’s hands to his bed with his own neck ties, and then take that ice cream and put it all over her body. He wanted to lick her body clean, and make her scream his name over and over as he ate off of her.

This was not helping. His dick was hard and wanted to be inside Carter. He put his hand back down his open pants. Just then the driver of a passing truck glanced down into his vehicle. It was a woman driver, who got a huge smile on her face seeing him with his hand down his pants. “Great,” he said, slowing down a little to let the truck pass him. As he slowed, the tip of his cock rubbed the fabric in his boxers, eliciting a rather pleasurable sensation. He pulled his hand out from his pants, in an effort to not come in his pants. He sat up a little more, trying to rub his nuts against the seat through his pants. He needed to come, or he needed to let this one deflate. He hoped driving would give him time to deflate. It didn’t really work. He couldn't stop thinking about Carter. That would be like trying to stop the sun from rising. It can’t be stopped. Although if anyone could stop a sun, it would be Carter. “Not helping,” he said.

He pulled into his driveway and turned his truck off. He got out fast, and tried to put himself back together, but it was too late already. The slightest touch of his hand against the fabric. Too much stimulation. Too much thinking about Carter’s body covered in ice cream, and him licking it all up. Too much thinking of being inside Carter.

“Not this again,” he said dejectedly, looking up to the stars. “What am I, thirteen again?”

He could feel some start to drip down his inner thigh. He went inside and went straight to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, and stripped out of his clothes. He used his boxers to wipe up as much semen as he could, then jumped in the shower to get clean. When he got done and dried off, he threw his wet boxers in the garbage can. He put on a tshirt and sweatpants and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. After watching The Simpsons marathon for a few hours, he went to bed.

Around 11:30 PM he heard his door open. He slowly got up, and quietly moved to look down the hallway where his front door was. He saw the kitchen light turn on. He padded to the kitchen. “How was dinner?” he asked. “How was your ride home?” she asked with a big smile on her face. “Very funny. You know damn well what you were doing,” he said, adding a little smile at the end. “What? Little ‘ol me?” she purred. He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her and gave her a searing kiss. He held her ass with one hand, and lovingly held the back of her head with the other. “Yes. You,” he said in between kisses. “As your wife, it’s my job to know how to push your buttons,” she said, running her palm in between his legs. She heard him grumble, their chests pressed tight. “You want dessert?” he asked. “Do we have any ice cream?” she asked.

[justpan]

Title: Unwilling Bride

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Summary: Pirates are planning an attack and all hands are on board to prepare for battle...maybe even the wrong hands.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Now that Bae had “escaped” the island, it was just a waiting game. 

Waiting for him to grow up and meet the product of true love so that they could create the truest believer.

Peter of course kept his eyes on this but there was very little he could do to hurry things along, no matter how much he wished he could have.

You wished that there was something you could do to help him, but there wasn’t anything that you could do either; plus you weren’t sure if he wanted to talk to you at all at this point.

Now that you and Rufio were an item.

It seemed like things around camp were still trying to find a new way to operate; everyone was walking on eggshells either around Pan or you and Rufio. Despite how often you assured the Lost Boys that you no longer harbored any ill feelings for your ex.

Of course you and Peter weren’t exactly friendly enough to spend time together away from camp business but you were at least able to speak with each other directly, which was a huge improvement. 

Business was all it was though, it was like he had decided to keep you at an arm's length, and you understood why.

You couldn’t stand to even see him walking toward Wendy’s hut back when you had first divorced, you couldn’t imagine seeing him with her the way he saw you with Rufio.

Laughing by fires, playfully wrestling during training and sneaking off to your little hide away for more...intense making out.

To his credit Peter never seemed to hold a grudge against Rufio, not that he really could without being obvious. Rufio was a great addition to the Lost Boys; he was an amazing hunter and he had even begun training other boys in acrobatics, showing them how to use the trees of Neverland to their advantage.

Things were tense but they were working, you were happy.

Only one thing seemed to be an issue… Wendy.

She had apparently complained and whined enough about feeling cooped up in that hut that Pan had finally caved and given her one simple task.

Berry and herb collecting.

The most basic chore, and it had been basically marked as pointless since the pirates delivered plenty of food and herbs, but the little twit felt like she was contributing to the camp.

You were sitting down skinning today’s kill when Wendy came and sat next to you, staring at you wordlessly.

‘What do you want?’ you asked in annoyance as you stayed focused on the rabbit you were busy with.

‘I want to be friends with you.’ she said quickly.

‘Why? Because I’m the only girl here, want to braid each other’s hair and talk about all the cute boys here?’  you scoffed.

‘No…’

You looked at her from the corner of your eye.

‘Well, we don’t have to braid hair or talk about boys...but it would be nice to be friends with at least one person here, and I have nothing in common with the boys.’ Wendy confessed.

‘You have nothing in common with me, other than what’s between your legs.’ 

‘That can’t be true, my mother always told me every woman has something in common with another.’

‘Really? Have you ever shot an arrow, or been hit by one?’ you asked.

‘No!’ Wendy gasped in horror.

‘Skinned any squirrels?’

‘No.’

‘Then not a lot in common.’

‘Have you ever...bled through your skirts?’ Wendy tried.

The laugh that shot out of you nearly startled you, you had never thought that she would bring up the thing one the two of you would have in common.

‘Of course I have!’ you laughed.

As you continued to laugh Wendy joined in as well and you thought of how confused all the boys must be to see the two of you laughing together, and that just made you laugh harder.

‘Oh my God! Sit down you daffodil, if you can handle the shit show that is your period then you can handle skinning a few squirrels.’ you invited, handing her a squirrel and a skinning knife.

The girl looked horrified, but she took the two items, holding them like they were poisonous.

‘We are not friends, but I think your life here would be better if you stopped being so soft. That’s why the boys are so annoyed by you, you try to apply your stupid manners to them; manners that mean dog shit in a place like this.’ you explained as you showed her how to cut through the skin and pull it off in one go.

‘I know...it's just hard to forget how I was raised.’ 

‘Where you from Wendy, Oz? Boys from there always seem to be more polite.’ you conversed as you watched her struggle to remove the skin like you showed her.

‘Oz...no I’m from England.’

‘England? As in my world? Do you know anything about America?’ you asked, suddenly interested.

‘America? Yes I believe that’s where the bad people are sent to work.’ she said as she finally completed her task, proudly showing off her feat. 

‘Yikes so you are from WAY back in the day.’ you sighed.

The two of you conversed while you skinned the game, Wendy of course sticking to the smaller animals while you tackled the deer and boar.

Eventually Rufio came up to you and kissed your cheek.

‘Stop it, I'm busy.’ you smiled, making no move to push him off.

‘What if I came to help? Can I stay then?’ he asked, holding up his own knife.

‘Depends, did you sharpen all the weapons, that was your chore for the day.’ 

Your boyfriend made a completely offended face, showing you his knife again.

‘Look at this beauty, have you ever seen a blade so sharp? I think I might cut myself just by looking at it.’ he boasted.

‘It is a lovely piece of work.’ Wendy spoke up politely.

Rufio sent her a look as if he was only now seeing her right there, then he looked over to you in confusion.

‘We’ve found common ground over the fact that both of our vaginas shed.’ you smiled.

‘Great...is this that feminism you told me about?’ he asked as he took hold of a boar and started skinning it.

‘Part of it.’ you answered.

The three of you made basic small talk as you skinned all your animals and once you were finished Tootles came to take them and make jerky.

‘I don’t understand why everyone still hunts, the pirates bring us plenty of food.’ Wendy said.

‘Keeps my boys sharp, I don’t need a camp full of fat lazy hormonal idiots. This island would eat them alive, and Pan has a reputation that is bound to lead someone with bad intentions our way. If my parents did me any favors it was teaching me to always be prepared for a shit show.’ you said.

‘And it’s fun, not like there is anything else to do but beat the hell out of each other and descend into chaos. We need the organization.’ Rufio said as you all looked over at a random brawl that was taking place.

‘This is organized?’ Wendy asked in horror.

‘Completely organized.’ Felix said as he approached your little trio.

‘Oh looky here, where have you been Fruitcake?’ Rufio smiled.

‘With Pan.’ the scarred boy replied.

‘With Pan as in...with Pan.’ you teased, lowering the tone in your voice.

‘As in we have real business to discuss, come on I’ll fill you in on the way.’ he said as he walked past.

‘His bedside manner needs a lot of work.’ you sighed as you bid your boyfriend and Wendy farewell.

Felix led you toward Peter’s Thinking Tree, a place you were not too fond of, considering he had tied you to it when you first met.

‘What’s going on?’ you asked.

‘Pirates, looks like they might be up to something, deliveries are coming later and shorter and they seem to be getting a bit too bold. Pan thinks they might be preparing to attack.’

‘That makes no sense, from how it was explained to me they got a pretty sweet deal with us. Why attack and risk losing it?’

‘They are dumb adults with too much pride.’ Felix said in annoyance.

‘Now that you know what I do, tell me something I don’t know. Like how are things with you and the Rooster.’

‘Things are great, he’s great and he treats me great. Things with him just flow naturally with no rush and no hesitation. I really like him.’ you answered.

‘So it’s boring.’ Felix hummed.

‘No! It is not boring, it's...safe. I like him and he likes me, we get along and he’s sweet and attractive as hell. Nothing is wrong with us, we are a good couple.’ you defended.

‘Safe? Look at where you live...you don’t like safe (Y/N).’ he said.

‘I do like safe, when it comes to relationships. I like knowing that I’m never going to wake up one day and everything between me and Rufio has just...changed. Or worry that the whole time it was all just some scheme.’

‘I can’t speak on whatever Pan’s plans are or were, but I can say he seemed happier with you. I think it was real.’ Felix reasoned.

‘So did I, but then it wasn’t, then he told me it was. It was all such a yo-yo game and I just can’t get back on the string man. Rufio is safe and I like that...I need that.’ you finished.

‘Fine, your business I guess, but my curiosity begs to know...how safe is my friend.’ Felix asked.

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘How far have you two gotten? The bastard won’t tell me anything.’

‘Well Nosy, if you must know; we’ve done…’ you paused.

‘You’ve done what?’ he urged.

‘...pretty much the same as I did with Peter.’ you grinned as your friend rolled his eyes.

‘So still no real sex, I honestly don’t know how you’ve waited this long, Lord knows I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a good chunk of these boys.’ 

‘Even Rufio?’ you gasped.

‘Ew no...it’s practically incest, even I have some morality.’ he laughed.

At last you two arrived at the thinking tree and saw Peter sitting at the roots, twirling the vile of fairy dust he wore on his neck.

About a year ago the Thinking Tree went dry and he couldn’t get anymore so he was saving the last of his supply for an emergency. So that meant no more flying for him and you could all tell that it depressed the hell out of him.

‘Felix filled me in. What’s the plan and what do I need to do?’ you asked as you crouched down in front of him.

‘They’re camping near Mermaid Lagoon, which is risky but smart. If I weren’t so clever I’d never expect anyone to anchor their ship in such a dangerous spot and they could creep on through the woods around the Forgotten Forest and ambush our camp.’ Pan explained as he drew a crude map in the dirt to show the path from the Lagoon to your camp.

‘But you are clever, so what are we going to do when they attack?’ Felix asked as he leaned against the tree.

‘Place the archers in the trees, clubs and swords in the bushes, nice and swift battle.

‘Are you kidding me?’ you scoffed.

‘What is wrong with that plan?’ Pan asked.

‘Nothing, if you want casualties and a boring fight no one is going to think about next week.’ you said.

With a slightly disappointed sigh you wiped away his map and drew your own.

‘Move the camp, leave the clearing empty to make the battlefield, have fences built in to trap the pirates in once they arrive. When that is done clubs and swords drop down from the trees; leave the archers on the ground behind the trees and bushes. Once they are ready to flee we let down the fence and send them off knowing not to attack us ever again.’ you explain as you drew out your plan in the dirt.

‘That’s huge.’ Felix said as he also crouched down to look over your plan.

‘It is...so big no one would even think to expect it… but it might be too big. I expect an attack in a matter of weeks. We don’t have time to build fences and move the camp.’ Pan argued.

‘Then I will magic the camp into a new spot and that will give the boys more time to work on the fences.’

‘I can have our best builders working on it now. And the rest can compact the camp so it's easier for (Y/N) to move.’ Felix added.

Peter looked hesitant but he nodded and sent Felix off.

You were considering leaving too but something in your gut was telling you that Peter was upset about something.

‘What’s wrong?’ 

‘Nothing.’ 

‘Try that with someone else who doesn’t know you, you’ve been frowning since you heard my plan.’

‘Your plan is great...perfect even.’

‘So what is the issue, do you think it’s too risky?’

‘No, I just...I would have liked to have been a part of it more but I can’t do much to help with how weak my magic is becoming. If it weren’t for my shadow, I wouldn’t have even known something was wrong since I can’t patrol the island anymore.’ he said as he stood up.

‘Hey, you are doing plenty and we will get through this, it’s child’s play.’ you assured him.

‘You don’t need to placate me (Y/N), it doesn’t help. I’ll just keep eyes on the pirates for now and I’ll let you know when they are close.’ Peter said as he turned to walk away.

‘Wait.’

Peter turned back and looked at you.

‘The boys miss you at camp, and now more than ever they are going to want to see you. It’s nice to see the person you follow into battle and I don’t think they want to see you full of doubt.’ 

‘I doubt they want to see how useless I am now, do you think they follow me because of my winning personality? It’s my power that they respect and I’m losing it (Y/N), once that’s gone I’m going to lose them.’ he said before walking away.

You wished you could say something to say make him feel better but you know deep down he was right. Every single Lost Boy survived their old lives by being cut throat and while here there was an obvious hierarchy you had to imagine a good amount of them still had ambition. 

Without Pan at the helm the island would descend into pure chaos and mutiny.

You had to shake away those thoughts and focus on what was happening now; pirate attacks.

There was a lot of work to be done and thankfully Felix wasted no time on briefing the boys on what was about to go down and got them in action immediately.

‘Pull as much as you can into your tents, its easier to move full tents than everything item by item! Move it boys, this isn’t a game, pack this shit in, fill the tent’s to the brim!’ you yelled as you entered the camp.

It was full on panic as everyone was running around picking up everything they could pick up and placing it in tents. Whenever one was full you would send it off to another clearing that was closer to your little room but further from the Lagoon.

You found it so odd sometimes, your magic still felt as strong as it had always been, but Peter’s seemed to fade more and more as the days went on. You imagined it had to do with his ties to that Hourglass and the island.

Eventually the sun was setting, another thing that was odd to you, daylight felt like it only lasted five hours. At first you wanted to chop it all up to time being useless here and you simply losing track of it, but one day you took the time to pay attention and you knew it for sure.

Plants were drying, animals were becoming harder to find, days were shortening and Peter’s magic was weakening...it wasn’t hard for you to put it all together.

The island was dying, and Peter was scared.

With it being dark now and the temperature dropping you let them all turn in, letting everyone know it was going to be an early start tomorrow.

You noticed Wendy hadn’t been helping too much with heavy lifting but it looked like she was at least trying. Took her about thirty seven years but she was finally putting in the effort to try and help around camp.

For the next two weeks everyone was focused on the tasks at hand, building fences and preparing for the attack.

Everything was perfect and everyone was excited for what was sure to be an easy win and an epic battle; even Wendy who was certainly not fighting in it, but she would play a very big part in it.

You had sent her off to make sure the tents were being sent to the right clearing, in other words you were getting her out of the way.

What you didn’t plan on  was her being dumb enough to get lost in the Forgotten Forest, the one place even Pan’s shadow couldn’t navigate and you certainly didn’t think the Pirates were also that foolish.

But at last they were, and they did cross paths.

Wendy stood before this large group of filthy men and their weapons and she felt frozen with fear as they looked at her, taking in her stupid cute dress and defenseless self.

‘Well boys looky what we have here, I guess even Pan needs to have his needs met.’ Hook smiled dangerously as he approached the frozen girl.

He raised his hook and threateningly slid it down her face, leaving a trail of reddened skin in his wake.

‘P-please don’t.’ she said as a tear fell from her eyes.

‘Oh sweetheart what do you think of us? We would never hurt such a young...cooperative girl like you.’ he said with a dark look.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,239

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: I need to quit fooling you people. Because the trust issues are going to get worse. Maybe this is a silver lining? Maybe? Yes? ...I’ll go away now.

Chapter 55: Sea

“Praying that we’ll remain in this desert till the end. Praying that this isn’t truly our reality.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Two Days Later Jeju Island – Seogwipo South Korea

When Taehyung first came to, he felt warmth blanketing his entire body. Every so often, a gentle brush of cool air passed over him. His limbs ached and it felt like a stone was being pressed against his chest. Breathing was a seemingly impossible task. When he could breathe, the sensation of phantom glass fragments scraped along the insides of his lungs. Coughing was a regular occurrence. Through said coughing fit was how he was able to pull himself back to consciousness.

For a moment, he believed he had, in fact, died. There was a part of him that even accepted it. But he wouldn’t have accepted it with a smile, of that he was most certain.

There were people waiting for him; people he would potentially be leaving behind.

The faces of his brothers and of the woman he loved yanked him from the abyss.

An old man sat next to him, moving a fan slowly over his body. Sweat seemed to cover him from head to toe and there was a large basin of ice beside him. Again, Taehyung coughed and tried to sit up. But the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lie back down on the futon. What energy he managed to muster quickly slithered out of him, the weight of exhaustion overwhelming him all over again.

Had he actually died?

“Don’t make such a fuss,” said the old man.

The stranger’s skin was bronze from being out in the sun, his worn and wrinkled hands and face gave testimony to the life he lived. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, frazzled from being whipped around in the ocean breeze just outside. Despite his seemingly austere appearance and gruff tone, his dark eyes were gentle as he continued to move the fan back and forth over Taehyung’s prone form.

Taehyung squinted slowly, the light peeling in from the window almost blinding him. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but found it more difficult than he’d anticipated. Sensing his distress, the old man shifted so his small frame could block as much of the light as he could.

“Where am I?”

The question croaked from Taehyung’s throat, surprising him. Attempting to swallow, he mentally reeled at how terrible he sounded.

He heard the man scoff, a sympathetic smirk pulling at his thin lips. “My home,” he replied simply, resting the fan on his knee, “you’ve got the devil’s luck, young man.”

Taehyung tried to smile but realized it probably looked like a grimace. “You don’t know the half of it, Oroshin.”

He watched the man’s smile widen a measure. “You’re young, but I see you still have some manners.”

Again, he attempted to sit up and failed. The old man seemed to take pity on him, reaching out with his thin arms to help him. When he was up, Taehyung winced at the tight feeling around his chest. He rubbed at it gingerly as the elder pressed a cold compress to his temple. Willing himself not to shrink back at the sudden cold, his eyes wandered around the abode to serve as a distraction.

He could tell that it was the home of a local fisherman. Quaint, humble and quiet; save for the crashing of waves along what he could only assume was the beach nearby. The salt was prevalent in the air, seeping in through what cracks existed in the house. Even though he could feel the cold wind, the floor was warm beneath him.

“Did you save me?”

Dipping the cloth into the ice water, he wrung it out and pressed it back to Taehyung’s head. “The gods saved you, my boy. You were already washed up on the shore when I stumbled across you.” He watched his eyes shifting to his shoulder and Taehyung reached up to touch the dressings over his injury. “I managed to purge the toxins out of you.”

His eyes narrowed. So it was poison, he thought angrily, shifting his gaze to the space between his knees, Lee Jooheon, you son of a bitch…

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet the old man’s. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of days now. The worst of it passed yesterday.”

Even though he still ached all over, Taehyung quickly shifted to sit on his knees, bowing his head low to the old man. “I’m in your debt, Oroshin.”

“Nonsense. It’s human nature to help those in need.”

Taehyung raised his head. “It’s a cruel world we live in now. Your kindness is rare in it.”

“Your view of the world is too narrow, my boy.” The old man lifted the fan and smacked Taehyung’s wrist with it. “Now enough of this. Sit comfortably.”

He did as he was told, sitting with his legs crossed in a more comfortable position. “Oroshin, I hate to burden you further, but would you mind taking me into town? I need to get back to Seoul as soon as possible.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, the old man peered at Taehyung – as if gauging what his motive was. But there was only one thing on his mind. He needed to get back to his brothers and warn them of the danger that was coming. There would still be time for them to find Eden and return her to the place she belonged.

…at Jungkook’s side.

Jooheon’s words slammed through his body like a wrecking ball, causing him to visibly shudder. Taehyung couldn’t believe it now that he was lucid. How had Jungkook managed to hide such a huge secret from them all? Then again, they’d all been so busy anticipating the moves of the Jade Fangs that a lot of things could have gone amiss. Something as small as eloping could easily be overlooked.

That didn’t mean he was any less salty about it.

When I get back, he and I are gonna have a little chat…

“Well,” cut the old man’s words through his thoughts, “it’s a good thing this washed up with you then.” He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out Taehyung’s wallet.

He bowed as he took it from him, opening to see the paper money was worthless. So were his cards. But his ID was still intact. That was the only thing that mattered. If he could prove who he was, getting money would be easy. He peered at the old man expectantly who raised his brows at him.

“I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it?” The elder shook his head and Taehyung sighed. Of course it wouldn’t have made it. That would have been the luckiest break he could get outside of being alive. “I’ll just have to buy another one.”

“Eat something and then I’ll take you to town. You can’t function on an empty stomach.”

Taehyung flashed him his best boxy smile despite the agony he continued to feel. “Thank you, Oroshin.”

After filling his stomach with three full helpings of rice, soup, and freshly caught fish, he thanked the old man profusely for his kindness. When he asked his name, the elder simply smiled and told him to come back when all his business was taken care of. Taehyung promised he would return to repay him for saving his life.

There wasn’t much time to waste. He needed to procure funds to buy a plane ticket back to Seoul. He would worry about a phone once he landed safely. Besides, Taehyung didn’t think he could handle the slew of missed calls and voicemails demanding to know of his whereabouts. He went on blind faith that everything was okay; that his brothers were able to find something out on their end since it was obvious that his own trail was a perfectly placed trap.

The flight back to Seoul was only an hour, but he felt like time crawled at an agonizingly slow pace. The time he had alone on the plane was enough to cause Taehyung to fester in his own guilt. He was angry at himself for falling for such a setup, and he was even angrier that he hadn’t seen it for what it was.

Maybe Hyungwon was right, he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the window, we’ve gotten fucking soft.

But he stood by what he said. This wouldn’t have been a problem had they taken the Jade Fangs out five years ago. Sacrifices be damned. At least they could avoid the headache inducing bullshit they were suffering right now.

He replayed the scene on Dragon’s Head Cliff repeatedly. No matter how many times he thought about it, Taehyung’s conclusion was the same every single time.

…if I hadn’t dodged, whatever came at me would have hit me straight on. He frowned. They were really trying to kill me.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Curling his hands into fists on the arm rests, he closed his eyes – attempting to stave off an oncoming migraine.

They would be dealt with.

They would all be dealt with.

Taehyung wouldn’t rest until he made sure of it.

Seoul - Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

As soon as he landed in Seoul, he purchased a phone at one of the stores in the airport, activating it on the spot. There were several voicemails and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to listen to them. Now that Taehyung could confidently say he’d met the Reaper at the Gates of the Underworld and walked away, the only person he wanted to see was the woman carrying his child. He had to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming; still sleeping from the effects of the poison.

Taehyung needed just a little more reassurance that he wasn’t dead. That he wasn’t already in Hell.

Hailing a cab, he gave instructions for the driver to take him to Raelyn’s hospital. The woman was so stubborn, insistent on continuing to work as her belly continued to swell with the life in her. Taehyung told her constantly that she didn’t need to work anymore, especially while she was with child. But she was hellbent on having her way and who was he to deny her the freedom to do as she pleased?

He’d have been a fool to try.

Taehyung quickly paid the cab driver, thanking him for getting him to his destination so quickly. He raced through the parking lot, up the steps and just barely clipped his shoulders in his impatience in waiting for the sliding doors to open wide enough to give him entrance. One of Raelyn’s co-workers that he recognized spotted him, her expression forming into shock before melting to discomfort almost immediately. He skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path as she seemed to mentally prepare herself to flee.

“Eunsoo-ssi,” he huffed, attempting to catch his breath, “where’s Raelyn?”

She averted her eyes, shrinking back from him as he took a step toward her. Canting his head slightly, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. She’d never treated him like this before. In fact, he remembered her playfully doting on him like she would a younger brother. This sudden standoffishness seemed a little unwarranted.

“She…” Eunsoo paused, taking a breath, before lifting her face to meet his gaze. Her brows were furrowed harshly and he could swear that her eyes looked glassier than they had just a few seconds ago. “She’s at the funeral hall.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I have to finish my rounds.”

Eunsoo quickly bowed, side-stepping him to disappear around the corner to the next hall. His gaze followed her as he was left in the main lobby alone.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he made his way toward the elevators. Pressing the button to give him entrance, he pressed the button that led to the mortuary floor where funeral services were typically held. Did something happen to one of their co-workers?

It didn’t take him long to make it to the funeral hall. Various other families were dressed in their traditional mourning attire and rows of wreaths with white carnations lined the walls. White ribbons hung from them, traditional hangul printed on them with the names of the deceased. He barely took notice of them, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of Raelyn.

The weight of sorrow that filled the hall was palpable, making the uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest almost unbearable. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Taehyung swore that a dark cloud of dread was hanging over him. He quickly shook his head, attempting to chase the nagging voices from his mind.

This was crazy. He needed to get his head together.

Just as he took another step, he stopped as someone dashed out of one of the rooms. He blinked when he realized the woman dressed in a traditional white mourning garb was Jimin’s older sister. She covered her mouth, smothering a sob, and Taehyung could only blink when she paused just seconds before colliding into him. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize who he was, as it did him for her. Her face was puffy and swollen from all the crying she’d done.

“N-Noona,” Taehyung stammered out, an icy sensation slithering down his spine, “what are you doing here?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, her hands reaching out to grasp at the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she choked out, curling her fingers into his arms, “Jimin-ie…he…he…”

Slowly, he craned his neck to peer at the three wreaths lining the walls just outside the room she’d vacated from. He read the names on each of the ribbons draped over the wreaths. Taehyung’s heart froze for half a second before slamming viciously against his chest.

“No way,” he murmured, looking back at Jimin’s sister, “…Noona.”

Instead of answering him, he watched her collapse to her knees – a wailing sound bursting from her. Taehyung heard his very soul shattering as he pivoted on his heels, his legs carrying him into the mourning chamber.

It was crowded, bodies shuffling around as people cried or whispered among themselves. Taehyung didn’t bother removing his shoes as he stepped up onto the small landing. He saw Raelyn out of the corner of his eye. She was the first one to spot him, making her way toward him. But instead of relishing in the comfort of her embrace, the very thing he had so desperately been seeking out since he’d woken up, Taehyung stepped just out of her reach. His eyes focused on the three portraits situated on the table where various foods and flowers were placed.

“Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin called to him, but his voice sounded muffled from the incessant buzzing in his ears. He heard him say his name again and he still couldn’t hear it well.

All he could focus on were the smiling faces of Jungkook, Eden, and Jimin looking back at him from the black frames encasing their visages.

As he took another step, he saw someone move to step in his path – blocking his view of the pictures. When he lifted his eyes, he was now staring into Hoseok’s stern face.

“Where have you been?”

Taehyung continued to stare at Hoseok, blinking slowly as his mind attempted to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t find the words.

“We thought you were dead.”

The phrase shook Taehyung; rattling his bones. He visibly flinched, took a breath, then glared up at his older brother.

“Hyung,” he finally managed to say, his voice dropping a full octave, “what is this?” Raising a hand, he pointed to the side of him and gave a wide flourish to the entire scene surrounding them. “What the fuck is this?”

A hand fell on his arm and he felt Raelyn’s swollen belly pressed against his side. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, suppressing a sob as she pulled him close. His body felt stiff, like he’d turned into a marble statue. This was all some joke. It had to be. There was no way that any of this was real.

“How?”

“The Jade Fangs were responsible,” cut in Seokjin.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way that—”

Yoongi sighed gently. “You told us her location, Taehyung-ah.”

It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his body.

“W-What?” That was impossible. He hadn’t been able to obtain that information. “I didn’t—”

“We realize that now,” added Namjoon. When Taehyung glanced at him, he nearly hiccupped at the dark expression painted over his brother’s face. “They texted us from your phone. It was all a setup from the start.”

Again, silence filled the small space around them save for the members of Jimin’s family who came, as well as friends.

“They’re gone, Taehyung-ah.”

Twisting his face to look back at Hoseok, he noticed his other brothers crowding around him in a semicircle. It wasn’t until his vision went out of focus that Taehyung realized he was now crying.

“What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do—”

Hoseok’s face softened, his brows furrowing before he closed his eyes. “They’re gone.”

The sun slowly set over Seoul’s cityscape. Lights blinked with life in succession, illuminating the darkness. Taehyung listlessly stared out over the vast expanse while standing on the hospital’s rooftop, lips puckered out while indulging on a sucker. He didn’t remember running from the mourning chamber. He didn’t remember banging his knee on the steps as he tripped over his own feet upon his ascent.

No one chased after him. They knew better. They knew he would likely implode if they did.

Taehyung didn’t stay for the cremation process. He would have thrown himself into the flames right along with them. Selfish? Of course he was. He was man enough to admit that all he could see was red.

Pulling out his phone, he crushed the candy between his teeth. Scrolling through the numerous voicemails left by Hoseok, he stopped until he saw Jimin’s name. His thumb hovered over his name, trembling, before he pressed down on the screen.

It automatically played the message on speaker mode.

“Ya, Kim Taehyung,” came Jimin’s voice from the receiver.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, hearing the pained chuckle that followed.

“…you son of a bitch. How could you just take off for the gates of the Underworld alone? Huh?”

His grip tightened on the phone, feeling his arm shaking from the force of his hold. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before he heard Jimin speak again.

“Don’t even think about stirring up a bunch of shit without me. Jungkook and I will be there soon.”

Without any warning, Taehyung fell to his knees. The phone fell with a clatter beside him as his hands gripped onto the roof’s railing. His whole body shook, his silent sobs rattling through him. The tears that streamed from his face were hot and thick. He swore he could feel his own blood leaking from his eyes.

Jungkook. 

Jimin.

Eden.

They were gone. 

Mercilessly ripped away from the life they more than deserved to live.

Someone had to answer for this. 

Someone was going to answer for this.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growled, glaring at the landscape as he ground his teeth together, “I swear to your God, Jimin-ah…”

I’ll fucking kill them all.

[timeandspacenovelist]

Wargames Worries

Set before and after Wargames 2020.

The sweet but peaceful tones of “A Whole New World” filled the air with a relaxing atmosphere as Candice LeRae hummed along. She just taken out a nice turkey (it was a week after Thanksgiving, allow her) and she set it alongside the other lovely dishes on offer. Today was planning day for WarGames and in addition to going into war with these ladies, she also got on decently well with them. She and Dakota had patched things up after their falling out last year and Raquel seemed alright. Toni and she had met a few times over the past two years or so and she liked her, so that’s good as well. So in order to make this day as good as it could be, alongside the turkey there was a lobster, some Texas ribs and some snacks imported from New Zealand. Now all that was needed was for the guests to arrive. She checked the clock, 3:00pm. Johnny had his game to watch, so he would be occupied. She didn’t want him blabbing about anything unintentionally. She had to outright click delete on a tweet that he was about to send that was gonna reveal Indi as Ghostface before the time called for it. She loved him so much, but honestly, he frustrated her sometimes. She took a few cleansing breaths as she thought about the day ahead.

“Ok, first time planning as WarGames captain. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m in control. Rhea did it last year, what’s the worse that can happen?” she said to herself. Maybe it was gonna be a good day. Then the doorbell rang.

She opened the door to three smiling faces who no doubt got a whiff of the food as they almost bulldozed past her. She was glad that part was a success, at least.

“So how are you guys doing?” she asked, trying to start off the get together on a friendly note.

“Well, Raquel and I just finished working out and Toni.. What did you say you were doing again?” Dakota stated and then asked.

“Mmmm? Oh, I was getting some new gear,” Toni said, her mouth full with lobster, “I’m really sorry Candice but I hadn’t eaten today and it looked so nice.”

“That’s fine Toni. It was for you anyway.” Candice said, a smile appearing on her face because of the Australian’s love for the food. She hadn’t quite gotten a chance to ask Toni exactly why she liked lobster so much, but one day she’ll tell her.

“Where’s Johnny?” Raquel asked, the Latina taking Toni’s initiative and digging into the turkey.

“In the bedroom, watching the game.”

“Don’t you two usually watch together?”

“Yes, but today, we’ve got something important to do.” The captain of Team Candice and the namesake, (Dakota suggested Task Force X but was rejected), then went over to the couch and picked up her iPad. She flicked through a few unneeded pictures (she didn’t know why she had a picture of Pawdme’s paw) before settling on the picture of the plans she spent last night drawing up.

“I figured since we’re up against some tough competition, we’d best prepare as well as we can. No four on 1 attacks this time.” That was slightly disappointing to her as they had enjoyed the use of the numbers game a lot over the past few weeks, but this time, they had to go toe to toe.

“Umm, Candice?” Dakota said, her hand raised in the air like a diligent student.

“Dakota, you don’t actually have to put your hand up.” Candice said with a soft smile.

“Ah, sorry. Force of habit,” the Kiwi said, blushing slightly in her embarrassment, “who’s gonna be the first one going into the cages?” It was a valid question. They had unexpectedly lost the advantage match so they would have to enter first. The person who went in first usually would be the one to set the pace and hang on, Candice herself knowing that personally.

“Well, I was gonna suggest that....” The sentence wasn’t completed as the trio were startled by the shout of Dakota who’s shocked face melted into a warm wide grin as she realized the mysterious person who touched her was Pawdme. The captain of Team Kick sunk to her feet and began to play with the Garganos’ dog, rubbing her belly and giving her high fives.

“Dakota, are you gonna listen to what I’m saying, or are you gonna play with Pawdme?” Candice sighed and asked, already knowing the answer. Every time she came over, this always happens.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” she responded, clearly distracted by the rather cute pup.

Candice just shook her head and turned her attention to Toni and Raquel. Toni was, albeit still, paying a lot of attention to her lobster, but she was at least listening. “So, Raquel, I think you should enter the ring second. That way you can help clean up any messes we might have dealing with two of Team Shotzi’s members.”

“I got you Cap,” Raquel said, before she was interrupted by the throat clearing of one Dakota Kai. “sorry, other cap.” Dakota nodded her head and continued playing with Pawdme. Raquel was about to speak again when a loud cheer interrupted her. Johnny came out (well, ran out) of the bedroom like an excited kid who was bringing a report card for their parents to see.

“Sorry, Candice, but I just gotta tell you. I got it. My bet actually paid off!” the exuberant founder of the Gargano Way stated, as proud as he possibly could be.

“What bet is that?” Toni asked, her face showing one of intrigue and interest.

“He bet $500 that Higgins would score two touchdowns this game. It obviously paid off.” Candice stated, giggling at her husband’s excitement over it.

“Yep! Oh baby, Hollywood’s coming in clutch once again!” Johnny said.

“Hollywood, eh?” Toni said, intrigued by the nickname. Her boyfriend watched it, but she never paid attention when he talked football. She had no idea what a touchdown was, but it was obviously good as he got two, and Johnny was happy. She honestly knew little about sports other than wrestling, but was willing to try it if it was interesting to her.

Candice turned to see Raquel looking sheepishly at her, almost like there was something she wanted to say, but felt like it would be wrong to. “If you’re gonna say it, go ahead and say it, Raquel.”

“It’s the Cowboys, they’re playing the Browns. I mistimed the schedule. I thought we had more time before the game began.” the large Latina said, her point coming across very clearly.

“Fine.... go ahead and watch the game. But you better listen when Toni and I talk about the plan with you.” Candice said, like an exasperated mom.

“Thank you so much!” Raquel said as she hurried inside with Johnny, not before flicking Dakota for her interruption earlier, who responded with a playful jab in kind.

“Score’s 21-14 right now. Best watch your head there, the doorway’s a bit..... Ah see I told you to watch your head.” Johnny told her, his warning coming too late.

“Well, Dakota’s playing with Pawdme so her attention is gone, essentially. Raquel’s watching the game with Johnny, so it’s up to the two of us. You ready Toni? Toni?” Candice explained before trying to get Toni’s attention. She then heard a small sound before listening closer and hearing the loud but soft music of Queen, in particular, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. Toni had her headphones in her ear and was scrolling down her phone on Twitter. Candice could only shake her head and smirk. She was 25 once too, and she did the same thing, albeit with a less high-tech phone.

She sighed, and she shut down the iPad. It was low on power, anyway. She did try. She did honest to God try. Maybe being a captain was a lot more difficult than Rhea made it out to be. Then again, she never had any team meetings. She was better than her there. Maybe one day when she’s less mad at her for the multi-woman beat down thing, she and Rhea would have a talk about WarGames last year that they had been meaning to have. She checked the clock, 3:30. It had only been a half hour. She shook her head and took out the cupcake she had brought for herself to eat as she let the vocalizing of Freddie Mercury send her thoughts to another place. Come Sunday, they’d just wing it.

Everything hurts. Everything aches. Turns out WarGames isn’t the most pleasant experience in the world. You’d think Candice would realize that after getting her ass kicked by four women for almost half an hour last year. But in her mind, Shotzi needed to be punished. Unfortunately, that punishment meant a broken arm and feeling very, very sore. But a win is a win, and she’s won two WarGames matches now, so that was nice. She looked to her left and gave a warm smile to Toni Storm, who responded in kind before wincing a bit as she tried to move fully on her side to turn to her friend.

“Hey..... thanks for letting us crash at your place for tonight and heal up.” the Aussie said in recognition of the Garganos’ hospitality. Candice (well, mostly Johnny) had decided that the rest of Team Candice could stay at their house tonight, so they wouldn’t have to drive home in pain. It was the least she could do as they put their bodies on the line tonight to win.

“It’s no problem, really. We all needed a place to rest and recuperate after the match and we have more than enough room here.” Candice replied.

“I’m sure Dakota is very thankful for your help, as well. She’ll just let you know when she wakes up. She got hammered, literally.” Toni said, as Candice turned to her right to see a soundly sleeping Dakota Kai, who had taken the lion’s share of the punishment. She had been the most difficult to get into bed because of her soreness and hadn’t taken long to fall asleep.

“You guys can thank me by healing up and getting better” Candice then took the bell she had on her chest and rang it as loud but as gentle as she could in order to alert the person who gave it to her. She had been in the opposite role many a time, but now she was glad it was her turn to be pampered. The door flew open to reveal an attentive Johnny Gargano awaiting his next order.

“You rang?”

“Could you bring me a cup of water, please? My throat’s a little parched.” Candice asked nicely.

“No problem. Nurse Gargano is at your service.“ Johnny said with a salute as he went off to get the drink. Yeah, Candice could definitely get used to this.

Toni tossed and turned in bed as she suffered from the nightmare again. It was the third time in four weeks she had gotten it, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. She honestly hadn’t wanted to do it at all, but she rolled to her side in order to fight off the seemingly invisible enemy and she hit Dakota as she flew off the bed and fell down on the surprisingly soft carpet. Dakota would need to make a mental note to tell them about it. The sudden thud and that wail of pain woke Candice up from her slumber and shook Toni from her nightmare. The bell was rung, and it was Raquel, not Johnny, who had answered. In addition to winning the match for the team, Raquel had taken the least amount of damage and so was fit for duties as a caretaker temporarily.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Raquel asked as she burst in.

Candice looked over to the fallen Kiwi and then the shaking Aussie, and put two and two together. When she switched places with Toni, she didn’t expect this to happen. “Toni had a nightmare, swung wildly and knocked off Dakota.”

Dakota hadn’t realized when it happened. All she knew was that she was on the floor, in the air, and then back on the bed. As her realization started sinking in, she noticed the towering figure above her and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You’re my Hermana. I wanna do stuff like this for you.” Raquel said, straightening and fluffing Dakota’s pillow.

Dakota wasn’t a multilingual person, far from it. But she knew a little bit of Spanish and knew that Hermana meant sister. She smiled at the term of endearment by the Latina. “Sister, eh? Does that mean I get to borrow your clothes? I might need to fix some of them though, just to fit little old me.” Dakota said, smiling at her friend.

“Oh, shut up.” Raquel said laughing as she ruffled Dakota’s mane and left the room, seeing that the other problem was being well handled by Candice.

Candice had her arm around Toni and was rubbing her shoulder as the Aussie finally calmed down. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. You’re alright now. What was the dream about?”

“...... The I quit match.” Toni said after a few seconds of building up courage to say it. Candice understood immediately. It was Toni’s last match in NXT UK and she’d almost gotten seriously hurt towards the end. She assumed the nightmare stemmed from the WarGames recently and all the stuff around it must have reawakened it in her.

Candice took Toni’s hand in hers and held it tight. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about that now. I’m here, with you, in this nice bed. I’ve got your hand, You’re safe. Now I think we can lie back down and go to sleep, but as long as you know that I’ve got you. Ok?”

“Ok.” Toni said, nodding. Toni eased back onto the bed and kept a strong hold of Candice’s hand. Candice stayed up until she felt the strong grip loosen and loosen until she looked over and saw her sleeping. Candice, upon seeing that, was now content. She took a little longer, but she also eventually fell back to sleep as well, dreaming of her Prince Charming..

“Rise and shine, people! Up and at them. Time for breakfast.” Johnny shouted as the clock struck 8:00 am. Seeing as they were normally early risers, Johnny decided to let them sleep in a bit but now, he was ready. The three women sleepily walked out of the bedroom, still sore but less so than last night.

“Morning honey.” Candice said as she walked over and kissed her husband to greet him. She did smirk at the gagging sounds done by Dakota and Toni mocking her for her show of affection.

“Get a room you two.” Toni said, feeling much better after her nightmare last night.

“It’s our house, thank you very much. So what do you have prepared for us today, Chef Gargano?” Candice said laughing.

“Well, with some.... ok a lot of help from Raquel, we got up early, and we made toast and eggs and sandwiches and we got orange juice and water. All you need for a lovely breakfast to give you a good start to the day.” Johnny said, looking quite proud of his accomplishment, well, his and Raquel’s accomplishment.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Dakota admitted to her large friend.

“You never asked. Ten months together and you never once asked if I could cook?” Raquel questioned with an air of lightheartedness surrounding it.

“Never got the chance?” Dakota said in response.

“Eat your damn breakfast. I worked hard on it so you best enjoy it.” Raquel said smiling as she sat down to eat, which gave the cue to everyone else to dig in.

“Yes, sir.” Dakota said saluting the Texan. The five of them sat down and ate their well-prepared breakfast, talking about the matches and how it went. Johnny and Candice spoke about bringing in Austin and Indi full time to train them. Toni talked about challenging Io, much to the annoyance of Raquel, but they agreed they’d settle in the ring when the time came. Dakota, to what she thought was away from Candice’s view, snuck food under the table for Pawdme, until Candice caught her but allowed her to give one piece to the dog before she had to stop. Eventually the breakfast was finished and Toni, Raquel and Dakota said their goodbyes and went home. Later that day, the Garganos were having a chat about the experience.

“I really think we should do this more often,” Johnny said as he kissed Candice’s arm injured, “of course, hopefully when you’re not hurt.”

“Well, the next time that WarGames comes around....,” Candice said as she kissed his cheek before slapping him on the head, “you go in the cage instead.” she said, laughing as Johnny rubbed his head in pain.