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mir-osik · 2 years

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Magic is Here for You and Me - 1

Fandom: Triple Frontier Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Summary: While on vacation with his friends and daughter, a series of unexpected encounters makes Frankie wonder if 'happily ever after' isn't just for fairytales. Wordcount: 12.9k (Don’t look at me LOL) Rating: 18+ Minors DNI (Mostly soft given the nature of the fic, but there will be some spice at some point so just want to set my boundaries now :)) Warnings: children (Charlotte and her relationships with Frankie and the other guys feature heavily in this story so just in case kids aren’t your thing), widower!Frankie, brief mention of death post-pregnancy, mentions of grief, shorter-than-Frankie reader, eventual smut. The TF boys deserve their own warning. Read this if you like: meet-cutes, repeated chance encounters, found family dynamics, three four men and a baby, match-making friends, tooth-rotting fluff, Disney World, vacation romances, and hot men being soft men.

Author’s Note: Takes place some years after the events of TF, there’s a minor discrepancy in when Charlotte was born, but it never comes up in the plot so we’re just going to suspend canon for it :) This is a wholly self-indulgent series and I know it won’t be for everyone. I spent a week at Disney World and saw so many hilarious interactions with children and their dads and ended up being super inspired to create an entire ‘The TF boys take Frankie’s kid to Disney World every year for her birthday’ fic and here we are! So this one’s for my Disney bishes who wish they could meet a Frankie Morales at Disney World :) Thank you in advance if you check this out, it’s my first reader fic and Pedro character fic, and I hope you enjoy it! The title is part of a lyric from the song that plays during the current fireworks show at Magic Kingdom. P.S. Huge shoutout to Ren over at the-ginger-hedge-witch for letting me bother her with all my questions about posting reader fic, warnings, platforms and the like! She’s a gem!

Benny’s Disney World Itinerary: Chapter 1: Disney Springs Chapter 2: Epcot (7/29) Chapter 3: Animal Kingdom Chapter 4: Rest & Recovery Part 1 Chapter 5: Hollywood Studios Chapter 6: Magic Kingdom Chapter 7: Rest & Recovery Part 2 Chapter 8: Epilogue

Disney Springs

Benny has vacation planning for Charlotte Morales’ Disney World Birthday Extravaganza™ pretty much down to a science now, and thank god for it considering how disastrous the first year had been. He’d made the rookie mistake of cramming too much into too short a trip, and had grossly underestimated how much sleeping an infant actually did.

And how cranky four grown men could get, even at the happiest place on earth.

He’s picked up a trick or two over the last few years, like knowing how to cushion for a growing child’s unpredictable moods and naptime schedule, and accounting for the guys’ limits for theme parks and crowds. The end result has evolved into a rather solid itinerary.

The first day in Orlando is easy, it’s always Frankie, Charlotte, and her honorary uncles checking into their resort by late afternoon. After settling in, they head over to Disney Springs — Disney World’s special retail, dining, and entertainment venue — for dinner and a little shopping. The days following are meant for the parks, with a rest day in the middle and one at the end of the trip before the flight home.

If you ask Frankie, the week is a good length of time to get the most out of not just the parks, but the vacation itself. Benny’s figured out the perfect balance of doing stuff and actually relaxing, and there’s no better remedy for all of the stress and responsibility of work and being a single dad, than having the opportunity to do absolutely nothing.

They’re staying at Port Orleans Riverside this time, a first for them, and even he has to admit that Benny did well choosing a resort this year. The lobby is massive, the very picture of extravagance with its opulent period rugs and cherry wood furniture. Walking inside is like being transported directly back in time; he keeps expecting sharply dressed men with top hats and pocket watches tucked into their vests to round the corners, or to see women wearing hoop skirt gowns strolling across the floor, parasols clutched in hand.

It’s silly, because they’re on vacation, but he almost feels underdressed in the faded jeans, gray t-shirt and flip flops he’d worn for the flight. Will lets out a low whistle beside him and Frankie knows without looking that he is sharing the same sentiment as he takes everything in.

Benny comes up behind them, slinging his arms around their shoulders and leaning against them with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. The posture of a man entirely pleased with himself.

“Go on, you can say it.”

“Say what?” Frankie asks, feigning ignorance and fighting back the little twitch of the corners of his mouth.

“That I’m amazing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Will replies, eyes dancing with mirth.

Benny is quick, tightening his arm around Will’s neck and snagging him in a playful chokehold. “Are you kidding me? For this? At the rate we got? I’ll remember that next year when I get rooms at the Grand Floridian and your wallet weeps, William.”

Will ducks, twisting out of his brother’s grip and shoving at his shoulder lightly. He chuckles, readjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder and holding his hand up to catch the fist Benny swings in jest in his direction.

Frankie has to give credit where credit is due, though, and he taps the bill of Benny’s hat. “You did good, Ben.”

“Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts. Thank you, Fish.”

“I can’t work under these conditions!” Santiago calls, interrupting them. He’s several feet ahead, trying to wheel his two large suitcases and wrangle Charlotte at the same time. “Let’s go, you slowpokes!”

“Slowpokes! Slowpokes!” she giggles.

She looks like she’s doing her best to either pull Santi towards the General Store or escape the hold he’s got on her hand, Frankie can’t tell which. With Charlotte, it could be either or both.

“Why does he need two suitcases?” Will wonders, staring after them. “We’re only here for a week.”

“I’m actually concerned he only has two,” Benny mutters out the side of his mouth.

Frankie nudges him with his elbow. “What you really need to be concerned about is how long it’s going to take him to unpack.”

Will barks out a laugh at that while Benny throws his head back on an aggravated groan.

“Fucking shit,” he grumbles.

“Come on you, knuckleheads!”

“Yeah, knuckleheads!”

“Hey, watch that mouth, kid,” Frankie warns Charlotte. He gives Benny a sympathetic pat on the cheek before heading towards the check-in line to join her and Santiago.

He notes that the lobby’s ceiling is high and only challenged in grandeur by a large, gleaming chandelier that hangs in the center of it. Despite the hour and the current illuminated state of the lobby, it glows warmly with light. His gaze moves to the white pillars lining the inner part of the floor, eyes tracing the ornate gold accents at the top and the thin lines of gold running down around the columns. Above the pillars, on the architrave, are the names of various Louisiana cities done up in elegant, capitalized letters that he can’t help but read while they wait.

Perhaps the most notable design feature, though, resides even further up, where decorative arch panels hide Mickey-shaped heads in plain sight. He makes sure to point them out to Charlotte, hoisting her up onto his hip when she reaches for him so she can get a better look. The way her face breaks into a grin when she recognizes the iconic silhouette serves as a sweet reminder of why they keep doing these trips.

Adjacent to the lobby entrance, a set of doors leads out onto a pier and a little marina with one dock. They were told that a manmade river runs through the entire resort, connecting it to the Port Orleans French Quarter next door. When they get out there, he sees that its waters are murky and dark, the sunlight catching on the rippling surface and making it glimmer a mysterious blue-black hue.

Automatically, his eyes do a quick scan for gators. It’s unlikely they’ll see any; he knows the resorts have gotten really good about keeping their properties free of them, but he figures it couldn’t hurt just to be safe. He’s been out of active duty for years now, but the instinct to assess potential threats has never really gone away, especially with a small child around. If anything, having Charlotte has only continued to enhance that particular skill set.

The rest of the views are like a scene out of one of Charlotte’s picture books — cloudless blue skies, grassy riverbanks, trees everywhere. Pretty in all its greenness, magical in its tranquility. Impressive, Frankie thinks, and picture perfect.

As if to prove his point, a very large family stops off on one of the bridges above the river, cellphones at the ready. The chaos of attempting to get everyone into frame makes him glad their own group is so small in comparison.

A cool breeze ruffles his hair, drawing his attention to the way it brushes at his cheeks and offsets the heat of the sun. With it, a sugary sweetness permeates the air and has him lifting his nose up for a deeper inhale. The smell is familiar to him — warm, buttery, comforting.

Benny grins at him.

“Beignets,” he sighs, as if the scent alone were enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. He points in the general direction of Riverside’s sister resort. “They’ve got Mickey-shaped ones at French Quarter. We can pop in on Wednesday sometime.”

He tosses a look at Charlotte. “What do you think, Charlie? You want some Mickey beignets?”

“Yeah!” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Frankie’s fairly certain Charlotte has no clue what a beignet is, but he knows that she’s figured out that if her tío Ben is asking, it likely will involve something to her benefit — usually something sweet for them to share.

As they keep making their way down the pier, he glances over to a quaint, brick-red water wheel attached to the end of the main building. He’s never been to the Old South, which is what the resort is meant to mimic, but he’s once again struck by how charmed he is by all the architecture, vegetation and general ambiance of the property.

All the thoughtful little details shouldn’t surprise him. If there’s one thing Disney knows how to do, it’s create an experience.

“Daddy, look!”

Charlie’s little gasp makes his head turn and he catches sight of a cream and blue ferry boat chugging slowly into port. It reminds him that the river serves an additional purpose: providing a water taxi service to Disney Springs. Their resort is the only one with that specific perk, a fact the front desk clerk had made it a point to boast about.

A fact that’s proven to be of extreme interest to Charlotte. She’s already begging for them to take it when they go later, her “Please, please, please, please” combined with her big puppy-dog eyes leaving Frankie and the boys little room to argue or deny her request.

Frankie sighs exaggeratedly, matching her smile and poking at the dimple in her cheek. The twin to his.

“If we must,” he says.

“Yes, Daddy, we must,” she echoes, her serious tone negated by the way she jumps up and down excitedly. “Right, Tío Will?” He’s the closest in proximity to her, so his validation is naturally required.

“That’s right, French Fry, you’re the birthday girl,” Will nods indulgently.

Charlotte catches one of Will’s hands, pleased by his answer. She keeps chattering absentmindedly at him while they walk — pointing out trees and the birds she spots in them, asking if alligators live in the river, when they can go to the pool, and if she can have a Mickey waffle for dinner.

Will is unbothered by her chattiness, he’s got patience for her in spades and is always attentive like she has the most important things to say. Even when it takes her a hundred years to get a sentence out or she repeats the same thing ten times. Frankie shakes his head in amusement, listening in on their conversation while he wheels his and Charlie’s suitcases after them.

The wood beneath their feet soon turns to pavement and rustic-looking buildings with tin roofs begin to come into view. Many of them are tucked off the main walkway, along more winding paths. They’re staying on the bayou side of the resort, so the swamp vibes are accentuated by bald cypress trees hanging over decorative ponds between the buildings.

It wouldn’t be a Disney World trip if they didn’t get lost on at least one wrong turn on the way to the rooms. Especially with Santiago and Benny insisting they each are reading the resort maps more correctly than the other.

“Ben, I’m looking at the map right here, I’m telling you, we have to go that way.”

“Listen old man, I’m looking at the map too and I’m telling you, it’s this way!”

“Can we go over here?” Charlotte asks innocently, smiling up at their scowls and making Will reach around to cover her mouth with his hand, effectively silencing her before she can get herself into any more trouble.

Settling in is a relatively easy endeavor once they finally get to where they need to be, the only one who ever gives them any trouble is Santi. He has a habit of unpacking his suitcase in its entirety in preparation for the week, and it tends to take an hour longer than Benny has the attention span for. With two suitcases this year, Frankie imagines it’ll be twice that.

Once Benny shoves his luggage into the corner of his own room — never to be opened until he’s rushing to get ready the next day — he meanders over to Santi’s to lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed. He lets his displeasure loose, whining into the mattress while the other man organizes his things.

“I’m hungry,” Benny complains, drawing out the vowels on the second word.

“Ben, you’re a grown-up with a wallet, go to the General Store or the food court and grab a snack.”

“It’s not the same!” he huffs, turning his head to watch Santi neatly stack socks, undergarments, and sleep attire inside the drawers.

“If you help me, this would go faster.”

“I would rather be eaten by the crocodile from Peter Pan.”

“Tick-Tock, Tío Benny!” Charlie chimes in.

She likes to be in there during this process too, giggling as she lays across Benny’s back and listening to Santi explain the benefits of putting things in their proper places while on a trip. It’s the same spiel he’s given since the first one they all did four years ago, but Charlotte doesn’t mind.

Even if she doesn’t always grasp the things he tells her, she likes to listen to him talk. She always has, since she was a baby. Frankie can’t even count the number of times he had called his friend in the middle of the night with a screaming infant in the background. His apology wouldn’t even be halfway out of his mouth before Santi would just simply brush it off.

“Put the baby on the phone, Fish, before she makes herself sick.”

He would tell Charlie stories, drowsily building fantastical worlds about whatever came to mind. Princesses. Puppies. Wizards. Anything and everything. Sometimes he’d recount shenanigans the team used to get up to, stupid shit that had Frankie chuckling quietly with nostalgia. Other times he would sing softly to her, Spanish lullabies his mamá sang to him when he was a kid himself, or Frank Sinatra or Etta James — the kid had an ear for the classics.

There were even nights where Santi would just come over, shuffling in wearing his slippers, pjs and bathrobe. He’d look so haggard, eyes bleary and curls sticking up every which way. Wordlessly, he would take Charlotte from Frankie and sit with her in the rocking chair in the nursery, murmuring to her until she calmed down and they both fell asleep exactly where they were.

So when she still seeks him out, eager for the comfort of his voice even after all this time, Frankie knows he’s more than happy to oblige. Santi smiles at her affectionately, and then resumes his unpacking.

Shirts, light sweaters and weather-appropriate jackets are hung up next, coordinated by color on the wall racks. He brings his own pants hangers, of course, and Benny can’t contain his eye roll when Santi pulls them out of his suitcase. Toiletries follow suit, set on the counter in the bathroom before chargers (yes, multiple) are plugged into the outlet near his nightstand. He places an umbrella on the table in the corner just in case, for unexpected rainy days.

Meanwhile, Frankie and Will usually set aside their suitcases for later so they can catch a cab or an Uber to the closest grocery store. They like to stock up on water instead of paying for the inflated prices in the parks, plus Will always insists on grabbing some healthier snack options for Charlie to munch on, rather than giving her park food all day.

By the time they make it back, drop off their haul, and change for dinner, Benny’s dragging Santi out of the room by headlock. The ruckus is only worsened by Charlie latching herself onto Santi’s leg koala-style.

“Mutiny!” Benny yells.

“Mutiny!” Charlie repeats, laughing like a hyena. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Tío Will! Tío Santi’s our prisoner and we’re pirates of the Carry-bean!”

“Good job, French Fry,” Will grins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he surveys the scene and her handiwork. “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth either, just like I taught you.”

Santi scowls at Will. “Carlota Xiomara Morales, do not bite me! And it’s Caribbean!”

Frankie rolls his eyes at them. There isn’t any heat behind the gesture, but he knows he needs to put an end to this chaos now, otherwise Santi will take Benny to the ground and they’ll wrestle right past their dinner reservation. He makes a show of grabbing Charlie around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Alright, ye scallywags, it’s time to set sail.”

She giggles some more, kicking her feet while she hangs upside down. It’s an old routine, one she very much delights in, but it gets the point across and the guys all fall in line behind them, their easy banter and laughter following him and Charlotte all the way to the docks.

When they arrive at the venue, it becomes apparent very fast that they’ve picked a busy night to head out there. Even from the docks, he can tell that the music normally playing over the speakers is muffled by the chatter of the crowd. There’s so many people, it almost feels like a park in and of itself.

If he had known it was going to be this lively, he might have suggested staying in for the evening and just ordering a pizza, but he knows the first night dinner is the only opportunity he’ll have to acclimate to the crowds and energy unique to Disney World. The frazzled parents and rowdy children, the bright-eyed first-timers and the seasoned annual pass holders, the obscenely long waits for everything — it can be a lot at times, and he always prefers to ease his way into the trip rather than diving in headfirst.

After they disembark, Frankie takes a second to bundle Charlie into a Haunted Mansion sweater, a thoughtful early birthday gift from Will’s best friend, Jasmine. It’s bright purple with the hitchhiking ghosts screen printed on the front in black and Charlotte absolutely loves it. He already has his doubts that he’ll be able to get her to wear anything else the rest of the week.

She holds her arms up when he’s finished, silently asking to be picked up, and it makes his heart ache sweetly in his chest. He knows these moments will fade away soon enough, so he always makes it a point to treasure them at every opportunity.

He scoops her into his arms and settles her against his hip, pressing his lips absentmindedly to her cheek. She reaches up to rub at the spot where he kissed her, where his scruff likely tickled, and he smiles at the way her nose scrunches up at him.

“Can I have a cookie now?” she asks, giving him that doe-eyed look she knows he can’t resist.

“If you finish your dinner.”

They’re working on compromising.

“Okay,” she sighs, and her pout looks so much like his, he wants to laugh.

“Okay,” he agrees, then, whispering conspiratorially, “But I bet you could get your tío Santi to get you that Little Mermaid bubble wand over there.”

He tilts his head towards the shop they’re coming up on and Charlie’s eyes light up like the Grinch before he steals Christmas. She wiggles to get down and Frankie chuckles softly as he watches her skip over to Santiago. Santi’s head tips towards her when she approaches, and from the smile on his face, Frankie knows he’s already wrapped around Charlotte’s finger before her hand even slips into his.

They're still early for their reservation at the restaurant that Will’s picked, so once they’ve secured Charlie’s bubble wand, they continue taking their time heading over there. The shops haven’t changed too much over the years, but there’s several they still frequent every visit. It doesn’t take long for Frankie’s mood to shift. It’s easy to be affected by that buzz in the air, the kind that only Disney magic can create, and he can’t deny that he’s already starting to unwind and enjoy himself.

Benny’s had a lot of idiotic ideas in his life, but scheduling that surprise first trip none of them had wanted to go on, forcing them to do it anyway, and turning it into an annual thing is definitely one of his better ones.

By the time dinner finally rolls around, Frankie is famished. Their group ends up in the outdoor seating area of an Irish restaurant and pub called, ‘Ragland Road.’ The table is a little cozy for five, making it difficult to get all the plates situated; he keeps knocking elbows with Will and confusing his and Santi’s drinks, but all of that is easy to ignore when the atmosphere is so homey and comfortable.

There’s a live band in the middle of a set playing a song he doesn’t know. The beat is cheerful in a folkish, knee-slapping way, and his lack of familiarity doesn’t stop him from tapping his foot along while he eats. When he catches Charlie wiggle-dancing in her seat as she takes a bite of potato cake Santi offers to her, he smiles at the sight.

The food is delicious and judging by the nearly finished state of the other plates around the table, the others would agree. Even Charlotte eats most of her meal, a huge feat to say the least, and he deems it another win for the Miller brothers. Between the resort and the restaurant, the trip is off to a great start.

Early into the evening, one of the staff had turned on the heat lamps strategically placed between tables, helping to ward off the nighttime chill. Frankie shed his jacket a while ago, having been warmed further by his meal and the beer he had as an accompaniment. He’s pushed his chair back a little, too, sliding down his seat so he can lean back and stretch his legs, take the pressure off his stomach.

He can tell the day’s catching up to him. Travel fatigue, in combination with being full and content, begins to weigh on his shoulders and make his mind feel a little sluggish, like he’s watching everything from behind a fog.

A bed sounds nice, and so does sleep for that matter, but the guys are chatty tonight and many years of experience has taught him that they’ve got at least another hour in them before calling it a day. He doesn’t mind too much; he’s happy just to sit and listen to them trade stories and laughs over another round of drinks.

They reminisce about the old days and catch up on life, not an unusual occurrence for them as they do this already at least once a week. The result of a camaraderie forged in military service and a brotherhood kept long after retirement.

There are dinners and weekend BBQs, random visits throughout the week. Hell, even game nights if Benny can get them drunk enough. Sometimes evenings at the local dive bar, so long as Frankie can find a sitter. Still, despite the regular meetups, it’s nice to be in a different setting and away from the ‘everyday’ of their lives for once.

“Daddy, I want to go on the balloon ride!”

Charlotte’s voice cuts through his thoughts, reminding him of the hot air balloon they’d seen earlier on their way to the restaurant. It’s been a number of years that they’ve been coming out here, but they have yet to actually ride it.

“Sorry, kid,” Santi tells her, tugging playfully on one of her curls. “The balloon ride is already closed. How about we finish coloring-”

“I don’t want to color anymore!”

Her pitch is one octave away from tantrum levels and Frankie frowns.

“Charlotte.”

She pauses for a second, contemplates the warning tone in his voice and knows she’s toeing quite closely to a reprimand. She ends up huffing anyway, “Well, I don’t!”

It surprises him, the way she snaps back, and it takes him a second to regroup.

“Alright,” he replies slowly, calmly. “That’s fine. You don’t have to color anymore if you don’t want to. But we can say that without yelling at people, okay?”

“That right, French Fry,” Will chimes in. “Sometimes if you yell at people, it can hurt their feelings, and you don’t want to hurt Santi’s feelings, do you?”

She eyes the both of them stubbornly, bottom lip poking out in a pout. He can see the way her mind is weighing out the repercussions of whatever she decides to say next and it simultaneously terrifies him and fills him with so much pride witnessing how clever and astute she is even at her young age. Eventually she shakes her head and Frankie runs his hand soothingly down her hair.

“I bet Santi would feel better if you said ‘sorry’ to him. What do you think?”

Charlotte turns her head towards Santiago, who is doing a terrible job of trying to conceal his smile. He breaks as soon as she lifts her arms and wraps them around his neck, leaning down to draw her tighter against him.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“For?” Frankie prompts.

“For yelling.”

Santi presses a kiss to her temple and pats her comfortingly on the back. “You’re alright, pescadito. Thank you for apologizing, that’s very good manners.”

She’s tired, he mouths to Frankie, resting his cheek on her head when she keeps close.

He gets it, travel days are difficult enough as it is for regular adults and he imagines they’re even worse for tiny humans. Plus, there’s only so much coloring a kid can do on their placemat before they start getting antsy. But now that she’s gotten a little older and her attention span has gotten shorter, he’s started to notice that his sweet little girl is becoming a bit of a pint-sized demon.

When Charlie peeks out from her hiding spot in Santi’s neck, Benny beckons her over to him with a few crooks of his finger.

“Carlota, mi tesoro,” he sing-songs.

Frankie smiles at that. Benny’s accent is terrible beyond belief, but Frankie appreciates the effort he and Will have been putting in to learn Spanish in their free time.

Charlotte’s sad little pout transforms almost immediately as her tío Ben takes her hand. He gets up to twirl her beside the stage with the band’s latest tune playing in the background. Out of all of them, Benny’s always been the best at being able to redirect an impending meltdown and getting some of that energy out. Probably because he has it in equal measure.

The knot loosens in his chest with the situation effectively diffused. Her tantrums don’t happen all the time, thankfully, but when they do, they’re definitely not fun for either of them. While he’s doing his best to parent her through this new stage in her development, he’s finding it more challenging than he anticipated.

He’s never been more grateful that he’s got extra sets of hands to help him with Charlotte than during moments like these with the guys having his back. Teaching her, guiding her, loving her as deeply as he does. Loving her as if she were their own. It truly takes a village.

Frankie grins watching Benny and Charlotte together. Her dark hair fans out around her as she spins under his arm again, and the dimple in her cheek deepening with her smile is only further sweetened by her joy. He can feel his heart light up with her bright peals of laughter and he hopes that she always feels like this: carefree, happy, cherished. That’s all he could ever want for her.

As the night winds down, and Charlotte’s energy finally begins to wane, she climbs into Frankie’s lap to snuggle into his chest. Her little cheek presses right over his heart and the easy way she makes herself comfortable against him makes him sigh happily. He’s only half-listening to Santi chat about a woman he met at a bar recently. It’s decidedly inappropriate conversation for a five year-old anyway, so he’s glad Charlie picked that moment to fall asleep.

Her breathing evens out despite Benny’s antics and boisterous teasing over Santi’s taste in women. Or rather, the kind of women often attracted to him.

Frankie rests his hand reflexively over the back of his daughter’s head when Benny laughs again. The gesture soothes him as much as it’s meant to soothe her and keep her with her dreams.

When he glances up, he catches Will watching them, the other man’s smile soft around his eyes. Will leans forward slightly, lifting his hand to rub his thumb over a smear of chocolate on Charlie’s cheek.

Frankie brushes a kiss across her brow, taking in the sight of the guys around the table. They’ve been just this way hundreds of times before, hundreds more since Charlotte had come into their lives. It’s an image that is comforting in its familiarity, safe in its constancy, and he feels incredibly blessed to be celebrating another year of his daughter’s life in her favorite place, with all her favorite people. Mainly because they’re his too.

“One hundred dollars she tells you she misses you before the week is up,” Benny tells Santi, pointing a finger at him.

“She’s not like that,” Santi argues, throwing one of the leftover fries from Charlotte’s plate at his head.

Benny ducks out of the way at the last second but Santi is anticipating him and reaches over to flick his finger against Benny’s forehead when his lean puts him within striking distance. Benny swears under his breath, swatting Santi’s hand away playfully.

“She’s sweet,” Santi continues. “But she’s got her own things going on, you know? And thank god for that.”

“I don’t know, man, you’ve got a history.”

“What do you mean, ‘a history?’ A history of what, Ben?” Santi doesn’t snap, but his eyebrows pinch together with the question.

Benny looks to Will and Frankie for back-up, a habit ingrained from their days in the field, and gestures at Santi.

Frankie merely shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Ohh, no, no, no, no. Nope. I’m staying out of this one.”

Will shrugs beside him, and Frankie’s brow lifts in surprise as their eyes meet. It’s obvious that Will’s feeling loose-tongued tonight, and unafraid of the consequences; his smirk is all mirth as he raises his beer to his mouth for another sip.

“What Ben’s trying to say is that you’ve got a history, Pope…” Will claps Benny on the back as if to reiterate the point. “Of dating stage five clingers.”

Santi is unfazed by that assessment, however, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he leans back and rests his hands on the back of his head. “Well, when the dick is just that good-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Frankie’s response is immediate and protesting as he covers Charlie’s ear with one of his hands.

Will chokes on his beer, moving forward to let the fizzy liquid drip down onto the floor instead of all over him while he laughs through a coughing fit. Frankie, ever in dad mode, holds out a napkin to him with his free hand, glaring at Santi all the while. Benny just groans, dunking his fingers in his water glass before shaking the droplets at the older man.

“Hey, man,” Frankie chastises. “This is a family establishment!”

“Family establishment!” Santi says, his eyes positively gleaming. He shifts and holds his hand out towards Charlie. “She’s asleep! She’s not gonna know!”

“Yeah, but the kids at the next table have ears, pendejo, and so do their parents!”

Frankie has a couple more choice words for him in Spanish that make Santi snort with laughter but he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, alright. For the sake of little ears, we’ll keep it clean.”

It takes them another minute to all settle down again, the last bits of jesting and laughter filling the air. Once they do, Santi suddenly turns serious, and his gaze falls to him and Charlie. He nods at Frankie when Frankie’s eyebrow arches up questioningly.

“Hey, what about you, Fish, huh?”

He stills, eyeing his friend carefully. “What about me?”

Santi’s shrug is casual but Frankie knows him better than that.

“You think you’re ever gonna get back out there again?”

“Out where?” He keeps his tone nonchalant, his posture relaxed despite feeling his hands beginning to grow damp.

“We know you’re not that dense, in the dating pool,” Benny speaks up, reaching across Santi to pilfer one of the uneaten pickles off Charlie’s plate and grinning like a pirate.

Frankie wrinkles his nose at that, inhaling deeply while he thinks on his answer. Truthfully, with Charlotte getting older, the thought may have crossed his mind a few times. Albeit very fleetingly and far between.

He reaches up, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb and attempting to mask his anxiety behind the casual gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know, man. I’ve been so focused on Charlotte, it hasn’t been a priority.”

Benny whistles lowly in response and Frankie’s eyes drop to the table, his composure threatening to fissure under the combined weight of their attention. His emotional wounds begin to ache at the seams, dull yet insistent despite the many years he’s had to heal, and he wonders if he even ever really did. After his wife’s unexpected and tragic passing, his whole world has been nothing but his little girl and he’s just…never needed more than that. Never allowed himself to look beyond that.

“I mean, it’s fine. We’re doing okay just the two of us, I think.”

“Yeah, but how long has it been? Don’t you have…needs?” Benny wonders, eyebrows arching suggestively.

“Jesus Christ, Ben,” Frankie grimaces, feeling his face warm at the sudden scrutiny of his personal life. “Look, I’m not celibate if that’s what you’re asking!”

Will chucks his crumpled up napkin at Benny’s head. “Why you so interested in Fish’s sex life, huh?”

“Yeah, is your own a little lacking there, Ben?” Santi retorts with a snicker.

Benny, predictably, rises to the occasion, defensive and boasting about his own recent conquests. Frankie’s grateful for the redirection of the conversation, but with the truth laid bare and now at the forefront of his mind, he finds himself distracted from the rest of their heckling.

Sure, there’s been the occasional fling here and there, some one night stands just to scratch the itch, but nothing ever serious, and certainly not serious enough to disrupt Charlie’s life with.

Besides, Frankie’s grown quite comfortably into this version of his life without romantic love. He’d had to pivot in a way he’d never imagined, from husband and new father in one breath, to widower and single dad in the next. His entire world had plunged into a tailspin, and he’d nearly lost himself in the turbulent spiral of his shock and incomprehensible grief.

There had been many days where he just didn’t know how he was going to make it, where trying to balance the loss of her with raising their newborn child was too much to bear. She was his match, the love of his life, his partner in every way, and the abrupt absence of her had been debilitating, his heartbreak suffocating. He could never seem to catch his breath, choking on the air trapped in his lungs until they started to burn, until they felt near exploding, and even then, simply enduring.

Anything could set him off: seeing her toothbrush in the holder next to his, realizing he poured two cups of coffee in the morning instead of one, her favorite song on the radio. Even Charlotte smiling for the first time. That was perhaps the most difficult, all the little things and all the big things she’d missed and would continue to miss where their daughter was concerned.

But even in that darkness, even with all that despair, the light had always been Charlotte. She could steady him with a look, ground him with the grasp of her tiny hand around his finger, soothe him by simply needing him in the ways that infants need someone to care for them. To be fed, changed, held, loved.

And so he did.

And bit by bit she’d forced him to piece the broken shards of himself together. It hadn’t been easy and some of the pieces never really fit back properly, the remaining shapes made too small by his unending pain or too big by his lingering rage, but what had remained of himself he’d simply given wholly to her. He’d endeavored to be the kind of father she deserved, the kind of man her mother would have been proud of.

Some days it almost felt wrong to keep living the way that they had, to keep having those little slivers of happiness — her first steps, her first birthday, her first word (“dada”) — when half of Frankie’s heart was missing. He knows that’s what she would have wanted, but it never made it any easier.

There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest now, soothed only mildly by their daughter’s weight against him. He rarely speaks her name aloud anymore, but he still thinks of her everyday.

Time has stolen so much from him, though. It’s just…the shape of her in his memory now. An image no longer as crisp or clear as it once had been, the tangibility of her — her smell, her touch, her voice — all things he can barely remember anymore. But she still exists in other ways.

Snapshot moments in his mind, seconds of the life they once shared. Her smile the first time he tried to flirt with her. Her eyes welling with tears when he slipped her wedding band onto her finger. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed too hard. How pretty she looked in his t-shirts with her lips kiss-swollen and hair all mussed from his fingers.

She hated folding clothes even though she didn’t mind washing them.

She liked paperbacks over hardcovers, but disliked creased spines.

She played Sudoku like a champ.

She used to order onion rings as the side with her burger despite preferring fries because he liked onion rings more. His own were never enough, and he didn’t figure that out until after she was gone.

He thinks back to Santi’s question again, turning it over and over in his mind. The answer remains elusive, and perhaps it always would be. But that’s probably for the best.

He’s already experienced a big, big love once, and maybe once is all he gets. Maybe once will just have to be enough.

It would save him some disappointment, at least. Preemptively stave off any potential heartbreak — not just his, but Charlie’s as well. He couldn’t put them through something like that again. Not after everything they’ve been through.

He glances around at the table again, rubbing a hand over Charlie’s back. He’s not even sure what the guys are talking about anymore, but their laughter feels like a salve for his reopened wounds. So does Charlotte’s quiet snores.

And if this is all he gets for the rest of his life, this brotherhood, this camaraderie and family, and the generous love of his kid…he could be okay with that, he thinks.

Later, as they’re headed back to the resort for the night, Santi elbows him lightly in the ribs to get his attention and he turns his head towards his friend.

“Hey, about earlier,” Santi says quietly, just between the two of them. “Sorry if we overstepped.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pope, it’s fine.”

“For what it’s worth, Fish, you and that kid deserve the world, and whatever that means for you, whatever that looks like, we’re always gonna have your back.”

“But?”

“What do you mean ‘but,’ there’s no ‘but.’”

“With you, Pope, there is always a ‘but,’” he smiles.

Santi rolls his eyes at him. “Alright, but…”

He trails off, inhaling deeply. Instinctively Frankie braces for the blow.

“You deserve a second chance at love. Juliana would want that for you.”

Santi shrugs then, clapping him lightly on the back. The gesture is meant to be casual, but Frankie feels the pressure of it all the same, just as he feels the heaviness of hearing Juliana’s name spoken out loud. A punch to the gut that has his hold tightening around Charlotte’s small frame.

“You’re a good dad and a good man, and some women find you easy on the eyes, though I can’t imagine why-”

Frankie reaches out with his fist, knocking Santiago lightly against his jaw and making him laugh as he maneuvers out of reach.

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of stuff going for you still. It couldn’t hurt to see what’s out there! You might be surprised.”

Frankie hums noncommittally at the advice, adjusting his daughter in his arms as they approach the buses meant to shuttle them back to the resort.

“Yeah, maybe someday,” he mumbles, more for Santi’s benefit than his.

But he couldn’t have known that maybe that day was closer than he realized.

You love Disney World, truly, you do. But it’s almost criminal that there’s this many people at Disney Springs on a Monday night. Particularly during what should have been one of the least busiest weeks to go. It’s well after the holiday rush of Christmas and New Year’s but it doesn’t appear like everyone’s gotten the memo.

Bus after bus comes to take people back to their resorts and your little group of four frustratingly continues to end up on none of them. The line is moving, though. You can tell simply because eventually you’ll realize you’re in a different place in it than you were ten minutes ago.

Closer to the front, but somehow still not close enough to get on an actual shuttle. It imitates a park ride wait so perfectly, like an adult version of ‘Are we there yet?’ except you are both the impatient child and the irritated parent.

Disney magic at its finest.

“Is there a single rider option for this?” Your best friend, Taylor, mutters under her breath from her place behind you.

The question makes your mouth twitch at the corners, but as another bus pulls away from the curb, and another round of disappointed sighs and quiet grumbling goes up through the crowd, you can’t help but agree with the sentiment. At this point, you wouldn’t mind standing so long as you actually get back to the resort soon. Tomorrow is your first day in the parks and you and your friends are all eager to shower the day off before going to bed and resting up.

There’s little else to do while you wait for the next ride so you reach into your bag for your phone to check the time. You have to plan for tomorrow, calculate exactly how many hours you have until you have to get up. The number determines your sleep schedule and whether you do the long or shortened version of your nighttime routine, especially because you still have to decide on an outfit and allot time for getting ready in the morning. Oh, and making a coffee and breakfast run.

Your fingers dig around inside the purse, brushing against crumpled receipts, a tube of lip balm, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer before you frown.

Huh. That’s weird.

You grasp the bag, pulling it further in front of you so you can actually see while you’re rifling through it. Every item you know to be in there is mentally checked off as you touch each one: wallet, passport, some loose change from when you paid cash for a water bottle at the airport convenience store, dinner and shopping receipts, lip balm, sanitizer.

Everything is all accounted for; everything, that is, except your phone.

“Shit,” you mutter.

The panic hits you quick and sharp. You try to tamper the feeling down but it’s too late, you’re already on edge and the way your stomach clenches tells you that you’re spiraling fast. This is the very last thing you need on the first day of your trip, your mind racing with thoughts of fraudulent charges, emptied bank accounts, and scam emails being sent to your entire address book.

And what the hell are you going to do if you need to have all your cards canceled while you’re out here?

One of your other friends, Sasha, gives you a quizzical look as you start patting yourself down. Your movements are frantic, hands flitting between your jacket pockets, jean pockets and back on a second pass just to be sure.

“You okay?” she wonders, her voice concerned.

Your eyes flit downwards in a frenzied scan across the pavement as you search between people’s feet on the off-chance you may have simply dropped it. But then in your periphery you catch sight of a young boy just as he drops a piece of chocolate. It lands by his shoe and he’s quick to lean down for it, but his mother’s reflexes are quicker. She grabs onto his arm before he can take it back and attempt to put it in his mouth.

Shit. The Ganachery.

You can see it so clearly in your mind, how you’d been taking photos of the chocolate in the displays before setting your phone down on the counter when one of the employees came by and offered a sample. Absentminded and careless and entirely your mistake.

“I left my phone at The Ganachery,” you sigh, the sound frustrated and grouchy as your fingers press into your temple where you can feel a headache starting to brew.

“What?” Taylor leans over your shoulder, her ears ever sharp. Automatically, her gaze drops to the ground as well. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t have it.”

“You checked your pockets? What about your jacket? Your bag?”

She means well, logically you know this, but there’s nothing more irritating when you’re on the verge of a minor crisis than someone trying to tell you to do the things you’ve already done. Another agitated sigh escapes between your lips.

“I have to go back,” you announce, wasting no time unclipping one of the ropes helping to designate the boarding line for the buses so you can slip out of line.

Reese, the fourth in your friend group, pokes her head out from behind Sasha’s. Her phone already tucked to her ear, no doubt attempting to call yours.

“I’ll go with you, so you don’t have to be alone on the way back.”

You wave her off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be quick. I’ll meet y’all back in the room!”

But Reese is insistent, saying your name in protest.

“Seriously, it’s okay! Just save me some hot water!” you tease, hoping your easy tone placates her.

She cups her hands around her mouth so her voice carries and you don’t miss the instruction. “Fine, but text when you find it and are on your way back!”

You give her a thumbs up before you turn, speed walking out of sight and back into Disney Springs. In all the years that you’ve been coming out here, you’ve never lost anything once, let alone something as important as your phone. It’s hard not to beat yourself up over it, your anxiety a heavy weight in your stomach as you make your way against the flow of traffic.

There’s a startled ‘Oof!’ that reaches your ears when you inadvertently bump into someone, but it does little to slow you down. All you can manage is a hurried ‘Sorry!’ while you breeze by. You miss the way they turn after you when you go, only left with the vague sense that you’d run into some guy in a hat holding a kid. Oh well, fingers crossed he’d at least heard your apology.

Your frayed nerves only begin to calm once the shop’s sign finally comes into view, and it pushes you to jog the last few steps, bursting through the double door entrance in dramatic fashion. The irresistible scent of sweetened cocoa slams into you, but it’s the looks from the employees and other customers that stop you in your tracks.

“Hi,” you greet the person behind the register, the word breezy and rushed as it trips out of your mouth. You recognize them, but aren’t sure if they recognize you. “Sorry, I was just in here about fifteen minutes ago with my friends. Did you happen to find a-”

“Phone?” The device is held up in their hand with a cheerful smile.

“Yes. Thank you so much!” Your shoulders sag with immediate relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“No problem, I was hoping you’d notice before you went back to your resort. Your friend called to let us know you were on your way to grab it.”

You cringe with mild embarrassment while you approach the register and your phone gets passed to you. Of course Reese did, she is notorious for being the ‘Mom friend’ of the group.

“Have a good night!” they say cheerfully, waving goodbye at you.

With your phone safely clutched to your chest, you back into one of the doors and push it open with your hip to leave. Now that you’ve caught your breath and the adrenaline is slowly working its way out of your system, your walk back to the shuttles is at a much more leisurely pace.

You notice the crowd has thinned out some since you had come through just minutes before, and that only the last stragglers looking to close out Disney Springs remain. You figure they’re staying to either make the night last just a little longer or wait for a less cramped ride back to their resorts. If you weren’t looking to catch some extra sleep, you might have entertained the latter yourself.

To your surprise, the boarding area for the Port Orleans resorts is much less crowded than when you had left earlier too. After you’ve shuffled your way back into line, you predict that the likelihood of you actually getting to sit for the ride back is looking pretty good, and though that comfort is merely just a little thing, sometimes the little things make all the difference.

You pick a seat near the front as you enter, planning ahead for easy access to an exit when it’s time to get off later, and busy yourself with your phone while you wait for other passengers to board and settle in.

The group chat is popping, 67 messages waiting for you as indicated by the red bubble on the top corner of your app. It’s mostly the other girls sharing photos from the day, with the occasional snarky text about Sasha’s horrible photography skills and Taylor’s obsession with food aesthetic photos.

You skim the rest of the messages, making a mental note to add your own photos later and to look at and save all the others at some point. At the bottom, Reese’s ‘Are you on your way back?’ is waiting for you and you let them know that you’re on the bus now and will be at the resort soon. A series of messages come in rapid-fire succession.

Sasha Vasiliev Be safe!

Reese Fraser Don’t talk to strangers!

Taylor Crawford Absolutely talk to strangers if they’re cute!

You shake your head at their antics, but the way your mouth curves up betrays your amusement. You’re just about to respond when a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Guess it’s standing room only.”

It’s honey-sweet and slow as molasses, and when it hits your ears, you glance up without thinking.

Piercing blue eyes the color of seaglass meet your gaze, and then the owner of them smiles. You blink in surprise as you take in the rest of him, as you are caught off guard by his blatant attractiveness. ‘Hollywood Handsome,’ Taylor would say, with his dimpled smile and perfectly disheveled sandy-blonde hair that’s just edging towards brown.

His eyes light up at your expression and you don’t miss the way he gives you a flirtatious once-over.

“Hi,” he greets — all of the charm he can muster in that singular word — and slows his gait as he moves past you.

Oh, here we go.

Your own smile is small, polite, but you don’t say anything back, not wanting to encourage him.

The man behind him claps him on the back, drawing your attention and making you start. He’s older — if the silver woven through his dark hair and beard is any indication — and about half a foot shorter but no less striking.

Although ‘striking’ doesn’t seem to be a big enough word. Not for the classical angles of his face or dimples in his cheeks that have turned to creases with age. Not for his sharp eyes, rich like dark mahogany wood, or the crinkles at the corners of them.

He gives his companion a light push towards the middle of the bus where there’s space to stand.

“Leave the pretty girl alone, Ben,” he says, winking at you.

“What? I was just saying ‘hi,’' Ben replies.

He sounds innocent enough, but you’re not entirely convinced. Apparently, neither is his friend.

“Mmhmm, sure you were.”

After Ben moves as far in as he’s able, he turns and leans against one of the bars flanking the steps to the elevated seats in the back. One of his hands is full of shopping bags, the other slides into one of the pockets of his jeans, and his feet cross at the ankles while he waits for the bus to finish loading. It speaks to his confidence, how comfortable he is in his skin. The kind of man who takes up space not because he can — or should, or wants to — but because he just does.

He never drops his head, his posture, or his gaze for that matter, and as if on cue, it sweeps briefly over to you again. He beams when he catches you watching him and he gives you a little nod in acknowledgement, a little wiggle of his eyebrows with that relaxed smile.

You look away, electing to ignore his easy affection. Connecting with a random guy during vacation isn’t at the top of your priority list, regardless of if it’s just a little harmless flirting. There’s only three f-words you’re here for: food, fun, and friends.

Speaking of friends, a quick scroll through social media shows that the girls have already started posting some of the photos from the group chat. You distract yourself with them, examining each post and liking them as you go.

You’re just about to comment on one when past the side of your phone, you see a man’s boot-clad feet step into the space in front of you. You groan inwardly, preparing to tough out the bus ride with a stranger’s crotch in your face. He doesn’t move, though, keeps his hip to you and you’re grateful that he at least has the manners and decency not to angle himself in your direction. You keep your eyes averted anyway.

“Daddy?” a little girl asks sleepily.

The sound comes from directly above you.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs.

“I wanna sit.”

It’s not a whine, but it may as well be.

“Sorry, mijita, we gotta stand for now. Just for a bit, okay?”

“No,” she answers. “I wanna sit.”

Oh, you know that tone. You’ve been around Disney World kids long enough to recognize when a tantrum is impending, and realizing there will be no opportunity for escape due to proximity, you brace yourself for the full force of her inevitable outburst.

“You want me to take her?” you hear another man offer. He’s standing beside him, just to the right of you.

It takes everything in you not to look up and watch the scene unfold. Apart from it being impolite, you can already sense the stress and embarrassment from the dad. The last thing the poor guy needs is another pair of eyes on him.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got her,” he answers.

He whispers to her in Spanish, too low for you to really hear, but instinctively you know it’s meant to calm her down just by the soothing timbre of his voice.

“Papá!” she grumbles, a few octaves higher now.

“Carlota,” he tsks.

And oh, you know that tone, too.

“There’s no place to sit. I’m sorry but we have to stand. It’s just for fifteen minutes-”

“I’m tired.”

You can make out the exhaustion in her voice as well as the frustration over not getting her way, and you feel for the kid. Big feelings for a little person; though you know not everyone will be as understanding. Or as patient.

That’s the only thing you hate about Disney World’s transportation service. It’s complimentary, yes, and hugely convenient for getting around their massive property, but making people stand and cramming the bus to breathing room only, is a bit excessive and torturous for people to have to endure. Little ones especially.

“I know, Charlotte,” he sighs. “You hang on to me and go back to sleep-”

“I wanna sit now!”

The words explode out of her, sudden and shrill, making the bus go abruptly quiet as all of the air is sucked out of the small space.

And then the waterworks start — deep, howling wails that pierce your ears and go straight to your head. You wince inwardly and take a peek up at her dad.

Your first thought, humiliatingly, is: holy hell because you certainly weren’t expecting the little zing of attraction that jolts down your spine just from the sight of his profile.

Your second thought, more appropriately, is: how can I diffuse this situation?

On a whim, you tap him lightly on the arm while he continues to try to pacify his child. His head jerks at the contact, turning towards your direction with an expression that can only be described as equal parts shame and dread. It looks out of place on his handsome face.

He stills when he sees you, regarding you with his deep, deep brown eyes. There’s a flicker of something in them, too quick for you to really discern. Then his whole demeanor softens apologetically, apprehensively, as if he is expecting a confrontation and dreading it. The fact that this would be his first reaction makes your insides warm with empathy.

“Hi,” you start, beginning to rise from your seat.

He shuffles away to give you a little more space to move, rocking his child all the while. She hasn’t stopped crying so you make sure to raise your voice a little in order to be heard over her.

“Forgive me for eavesdropping but…you’re welcome to have my seat.”

He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m happy to stand.”

You give him your most friendly smile and hope your voice sounds cheerful despite its volume. But his head shakes resolutely.

“No, Miss, please, I can’t let you do that-”

“Really, I insist! I mean, we’re about to head out so…” you trail off, gesturing at the bus driver sliding into his own chair.

You smile again — disarming, encouraging. He continues to look horrified at your suggestion, but between his screaming kid, the irritated looks of the other passengers, and the time he doesn’t have to argue properly, there’s really no other option than to do as you’ve offered.

Maneuvering around you is a little bit of an awkward shuffle, bodies bumping and brushing despite the attempts at propriety in such close quarters. You try not to think about how there seems to be so much of him, just…tall, broad, man tangled up in your space. Eventually he gets to where he needs to, and eases down onto the bench.

It’s a tight squeeze for the width of his shoulders between the other two passengers who had been on either side of you, but he manages to make it work. You have the fleeting thought that Taylor would rate him a ‘15/10 Hot Dad’ on that feature alone. Shamelessly, you might be inclined to agree.

At least in the privacy of your mind.

Almost immediately, his daughter’s crying abates. Her sniffles and occasional hiccups are the only remaining evidence of her outburst. She snuggles deeper into his chest, cheek laying over his shoulder, one of her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

She’s a cutie — cherub-cheeked, with curling chestnut-colored hair and a sweet little button-nose. Her eyes match his, and they’re already starting to droop, heavy with sleepiness.

“Thank you,” he says, and you can tell he’s sincere in his gratitude by the intent way he stares up at you and oh boy.

You don’t know how it’s possible to feel a look, but you feel that one. All the way down to your fingers and toes you feel it.

“You’re welcome,” you answer softly, swallowing the lump that’s suddenly formed in your throat.

Without a fussy child between you, distracting you, your attention turns to other things. Like the scruff along the sharp line of his jaw, and the neatly trimmed mustache sitting under a prominent nose. The facial hair’s a good look on him, you think; it saves him from appearing too baby-faced. He’s got a baseball cap on his head that is doing a horrible job of containing all of his wavy brown hair, but that’s a good look on him too.

It’s the eyes that really get you, though — kind and soulful, warm like smoky quartz.

You glance away when your skin starts to tingle, in need of respite from the full-force of his attention. It’s just your luck that his attention is replaced by his companion’s, the one who asked if he needed a hand with his kid earlier. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, rugged.

He has a full beard, hair almost down to his shoulder with half of it pulled back into a messy knot. He’s got a way about him that’s unnervingly intimidating; it contrasts with the gentle smile on his face, the cute braid that starts at his temple and is tucked back into the tie, and you can’t help but stare in bewilderment at him.

It would appear you are four for four on meeting gorgeous men tonight. Must be something in the water.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply back, suddenly shy. He makes you feel like you need to fill the space with something other than his considering look but nothing will come to mind.

“Next stop, Port Orleans!” the driver abruptly calls out, pulling your thoughts away and saving you from continuing your awkward exchange with him.

There’s about a half second lag before the doors all close with a loud hiss and the driver hits the gas, making the bus jerk aggressively away from the curb. You grasp onto the strap dangling above your head as a reflex, but horrifyingly, you have no time to brace yourself.

The sharp movement disrupts your balance and you pitch forward with a sharp gasp — straight into Hot Dad — and the only thing stopping you from smashing your boobs into his face is the grip you manage to get on his shoulder, and his own steadying hand on your hip.

His very large, very strong hand.

You hover over him, so close you can’t help but catch the scent of his cologne — fresh and clean with a little hint of musky sweetness. It makes your head spin, traps the air in your lungs as your heart starts kicking against your ribcage, the harsh thump, thump, thump a resounding echo in your ears.

The edge of the brim of his hat lightly brushes over your cheek when his face tilts up to look at you, and your whole body heats up when your gazes meet again. It’s…strangely intimate, curiously familiar all at once, and that same spark of attraction from earlier unfurls in your stomach, like a flower blooming under the sun’s glowing rays.

It is a reaction your body most certainly has no business having.

“Sorry,” you tell him, the word rushing out of you breathlessly.

Then the lights inside the vehicle go out, abruptly turned off and plunging you into darkness. The blessed safety of it where you’re able to avoid the intensity of his eyes. Still, you know little relief, your heightened sense of touch proving to be the next dilemma to contend with, specifically because you’re still holding onto him.

And he’s still holding onto you.

The singular sensation of the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes, knocks you off kilter more than the driver’s heavy foot. You make it a point to pull away.

“You alright?” he asks when you do, voice gruff in a way that makes your cheeks heat and your palms clammy.

Your laugh is airy as it passes between your lips, full of nerves you hope he doesn’t pick up on. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But you notice he doesn’t remove his hand until you’re stable on your feet.

“Sorry,” you repeat, trying to give him some room despite really having none to spare. You angle your body away from him, towards the front of the bus, and grip the strap like a lifeline. Your heartbeat is still thrumming in your head. “And sorry if I step on you or something. I swear these things are a death trap.”

He chuckles at that. “It’s okay, that’s why I’ve got steel-toed boots.”

The joke is lame, but you find yourself smiling at it anyway.

Trying to maintain your equilibrium is the most challenging part of the ride, nothing short of a herculean endeavor, especially with the way the driver takes the turns. You spend the next fifteen minutes obsessively conscious of the way your leg keeps accidentally knocking his knee on every break and acceleration of the bus. Apologies seem a little redundant at this point, though, so you keep them to yourself. But they still weigh heavy on your tongue.

It’s probably the most peculiar experience you’ve ever had on a Disney World shuttle, and you can’t say that you aren’t relieved when the Port Orleans French Quarter signage appears through the window. French Quarter is the first stop on the route which means your own stop is coming up quite soon. There are several drop-off locations on the Riverside route, but the lights at the main unloading area at the front of the resort are the brightest and most sobering. You blink against the sting of them while the bus pulls in, wincing when the interior lights flicker back to life again too and amplify the brightness. It takes your vision a few moments to adjust to normal and you drop your hold on the strap in the interim.

Oww.

The ache in your shoulder is instant, the muscles tense all the way down your arm. Hell, even your fingers feel stiff. You tilt your head from side to side, stretching out your neck and resisting the urge to reach across yourself and rub at the sore spot on your shoulder. With your luck, you’ll elbow Hot Dad in the face in the process.

Feet and bodies begin to shuffle about, the rustle of shopping bags and backpacks and other items filling the air as passengers eagerly prepare to disembark. Out of habit, you reach for your phone. You mean to look at the time but the screen blinks with a text message notification instead. It’s from Reese, undoubtedly checking on you.

And grounding you in a really needed way.

Food, fun, friends, you remind yourself.

When it’s time to go, you don’t bother to say goodbye to Hot Dad or spare him a second glance. Whatever spell this whole situation had previously cast on you is effectively broken. Whatever you’d felt in those moments, gone. With the reality of being back at the resort, he becomes just another face, another stranger in a huge crowd of them visiting the parks and being on vacation. You bet you won’t even see him again anyway.

You step off the bus, thanking the driver on your way despite his horrible driving and smiling when he wishes you a good evening. The temperature’s dropped even more since you left Disney Springs, and it makes you shiver as you begin the trek to your room. It feels good, even if your fingers are cold. You inhale the crisp air deeply, allowing it to fill your lungs before you exhale just as thoroughly.

If you’ve timed it correctly, the girls should just about be finished with their showers, which means you can get to yours as soon as you get to the room. Maybe even cram in a face mask after. If you hustle, you might just be able to fall asleep before Taylor too — she snores but will never admit it, and sometimes it’s difficult to fall asleep once she gets going.

You make it inside the lobby, past the doors that lead back outside to the little marina, and almost halfway across the bridge before you hear the distinct sound of jogging feet on the wood.

“Hey, wait up!” someone calls, and you turn out of reflex, before you can think better of it.

Your brows lift in surprise, particularly since you’d already convinced yourself the bus was all you were going to get.

“Hey,” Hot Dad greets when he catches up to you. His smile is sweet, if a little sheepish.

Attraction flutters insistently in the back of your mind, beating its little wings rebelliously against the rational voice trying to stress that you are on vacation — at Disney World — and don’t have time for any more of the indulgent thoughts swirling around in your head.

Especially about a stranger and a father no less. He could be married or otherwise attached. He could be a murderer, the nice guy act simply just a ruse. Hell, he could be a married murderer even. Okay, the last two might be a tad dramatic, but you’ve watched too many true crime documentaries and you know that sometimes you just never know.

“Hey,” you say back, noting that he is sans kid.

A flicker of movement behind him captures your attention and you lean out past his shoulder to get a better look. You instantly recognize Ben from the bus, along with his dark-haired friend. They’re just outside the doors of the dinning hall, next to the lobby entrance, standing together like they’re waiting around for something. Then you see that Ben is holding Hot Dad’s daughter, swaying tenderly and rocking her in his arms, and oh, they’re waiting for him.

Ben has the cheekiness to give you a little wink this time when he realizes you’re looking, and you’re 99% convinced he gets just about anything he wants with all that charm. Blondie joins them a second later, walking out the door with a bag from the general store clutched in his hand. He doesn’t wave but his curious gaze remains trained on you.

The dark-haired one does wave despite being semi-distracted with his phone, pacing around slightly with it pressed to his ear. His hand falls to his waist and you cant your head curiously. There’s an intriguing air about that one, like he’s fully in control of every situation at any given moment. Someone used to giving orders but not necessarily taking them. Suave, confident, a touch sophisticated. Like he would exude that same kind of power in a t-shirt as he would in a suit.

Seeing them all together is something of a sight and a bit of an enigma. Four men, all with differing dispositions, all gorgeous in their own ways. You haven’t figured out the connection yet, how the four of them are linked and bound together. But you just get the sense that they are.

“I knew Huey was with you,” you tell him. “But I didn’t realize Dewey and Louie were too.”

Confusion flashes across his face until he turns to follow where your line of sight had been. It takes him a second, and then he’s tilting his head back, a bright laugh rumbling out of him at your reference to Donald Duck’s triplet nephews. The sound is pretty in the night air, and the unexpected pleasure of being able to draw it out of him lights like a sparkler in your chest.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he grins, turning back to you.

The corners of his eyes crinkle and a deep dimple winks to life in his cheek. It makes his face even sweeter.

He stands there watching you for a time after, and that look from the bus crosses his face again, like he’s working out an answer to a question only he knows. You start to shift your weight from foot to foot, self-conscious, unsure of what to do as the silence stretches on and the air pulses between you — all shimmering heat and endless possibilities. You tug your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it nervously, and it’s not lost on you that his eyes are drawn briefly to the action.

You swallow thickly.

“Did you, um…need help with something?” you finally ask, trying to ignore the pull to him you can’t seem to shake.

That seems to break him out of his trance and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

“So hey, listen…I just wanted to thank you again for what you did back there.” He gestures behind him with his free hand, in the general direction of the shuttle drop-off. “It was really nice and you- you didn’t have to. I appreciate it and I’m sure the other passengers did too.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I was happy to help. I get grumpy when I’m tired, too, so I understand.”

You shrug and give him a playful scrunch of your nose that eases the tension in his shoulders and makes that cute little dimple appear again.

“Well, I’ve uh…gotta get back to my room,” you say softly when your cheeks start to warm from his unwavering gaze. “Early day tomorrow and all.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course.” He rubs at his jaw, fingers grazing over the scruff as he thinks on something. “I’d offer to walk you but, I know we just met and you probably don’t want a stranger to know where your room is…but, if you did want someone to walk you, it’s the least I could do.”

His rambling is terribly endearing but he’s right on all counts. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I’m pretty close anyway- oh! And I hope your daughter gets some rest.”

His lips curve at that. “Thanks, me too. Thank you for everything else. Again.”

You raise your hand in a parting wave. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he murmurs back.

And it suddenly dawns on you that this could very well be the last time you ever see him. There’s a disappointed twinge in your gut that shouldn’t be there but is and it’s silly, but still very difficult to ignore as your feet start to carry you backwards. Your body is reluctant to turn away, your eyes unable to resist taking their fill of him — just one last, long, harmless look before you go.

“Wait!”

He says it just as you start to turn away and it makes you pause. You glance over your shoulder with one of your eyebrows raised expectantly at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Frankie, by the way.”

You know what he’s inviting by giving you his name — the choice to give yours back. What’s the harm, right? It wouldn’t change anything. You could tell him your name and it wouldn’t mean anything.

Instead, you give him another smile, the corners of your lips tugging up.

“Have a good vacation, Frankie.”

He shakes his head at you, amusement clear on his stupidly adorable face as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back onto his heels.

“You too.”

This time, you force yourself to go, to keep your eyes ahead and your feet moving.

If you hadn’t, you might have seen the way he’d taken an unconscious step after you before catching himself, or the way his gaze had lingered on your form until you disappeared across the bridge.

The walk back to your room isn’t much further, just beyond the second bridge and right on the main path. Lucky for you since your mind is far too distracted for anything more than running on autopilot. You’re caught in a memory loop, incessantly replaying the night’s events over and over in your head.

You’ve read too many romance books, listened to too many love songs, seen too many romance movies. Have grown too fond of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters with their neat little ribbons and dainty bows on top.

You are on vacation, you remind yourself one more time, and you cannot romanticize a meaningless moment between yourself and a random stranger. One you are never going to see again. But even as you retreat from the bubble of that chanced encounter on the bus, and the subsequent exchange at the bridge, somehow, that man with his quiet demeanor and his sweet smile sticks with you.

End Notes: Re: Charlotte’s nicknames A ‘fry’ is a baby fish pescadito also translates to ‘baby/small fish’ mi tesoro means ‘my treasure’

Thank you so, so much for reading and joining the TF boys for vacation ;)

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #my writing #mihfyam

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obsidianstrawberrymilk · 2 years

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Does anyone ever think about how creepy certain characters in Naruto are?

Mainly Rin, Minato, and Sakura.

Like. Most characters have some sort of background to them. Most of the Konoha 11 and their teachers have clans, Kurenai has her father. Even if they don’t like Anko, we see people like Orochimaru use their lack of support system. It has real world consequences.

But... these three don’t have that. Rin and Sakura are meant to be ‘the normal ones’ on their teams, but we never see them interact with their families or friendssans their team (and Ino ig - again another powerful clan heir. Hmm...). Hell, both of them are way too obsessed with a member of a very powerful and also kind of hostile to the government (for good reason) clan who Danzou has been shown to want to manipulate. Rin almost doesn’t seem human in her mannerisms at times, and in the manga seems to copy Obito’s reactions a lot. Sakura quite literally has a split personality inside her head to show her ‘actual’ emotions to things, which is powerful enough to break out of the control of the heir to a clan famous for that exact jutsu. She is able to do that in the firts place. Rin is able to immediately perform an eye replacement with the eye from her dying best friend to her other friend/crush, and the eye still works fine. Not just fine - as good as it could given the circumstances. She’s able to switch off her emotions and do this literally as Obito is dying. Sakura just so happens to choose to become Tsunade’s apprentice, despite showing no previous interest in medical ninjutsu, after she, a person with a clear history of trying to make at least some changes within the shinobi system that gives Danzou easy acces to recruits for ROOT, becomes the Hokage. Despite being ‘civilians’, both girls have shown a total readiness to fight in hard situations - more than Naruto himself.

As for Minato, he knows many classified jutsus that only the second hokage was able to do, somehow is as good or better at sealing than a girl literally from a clan who specialized in it, had a connection to both Hiruzen Sarutobi and the Three Sanin through Jiraiya. His teammates are never mentioned. His friends are never mentioned. When his students die, both of them, his reaction is muted, almost barely there, and he doesn’t really seem to understand Kakashi’s grief at all. Even after that, he still puts Kakashi, at this point still a teenager, into ANBU Black Ops without much hesitance. He barely seems to care for his students at all. Despite Kushina’s offer that would have left Naruto with at least one living parent and would have gotten rid of the Kyuubi for good, to seal it back within herself and die, Minato still chooses the option - sealing himself - that leaves the Kyuubi still able to be used and Naruto without a support system aside from the Kage government.

And all throughout this, we never see their friends. We never see any of them having any support system aside from their teams. We never really see any of them with actual goals - Rin especially. Yeah, ‘Hokage was Minato’s goal!!’ and it just so happened the stars would perfectly align so this kid with no shown ninja background or connections was in the perfect position to be mentored by someone who turned down being Hokage and then... he became Hokage. It’s still really suspicious. You could argue the same is true for Tenten and Lee, but a) both have stated goals, even if they’re not really focused on, and b) neither of them have the other ‘creep’ factors (Rin’s mannerisms, Sakura’s second personality, Minato’s reactions) that set off alarm bells in my head.

Like idk. Maybe it’s just bad writing or drawing or animating, but... there’s something about it that makes me wonder. I’ve said before I think Sakura should have been a ROOT agent, but this is why I think within canon there’s actually a possibility all three of them were plants. Maybe not ROOT, but... seems a bit too weird for me to just brush off.

#naruto #ROOT #sakura haruno #rin nohara #minato namikaze #ROOT sakura #idk like #its just so suspicious to me yk??#like theres these signs for all of them #it could just be bad writing but #im just suspicious of it #idkkk #anti konoha

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hudson-whorenet · 9 months

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Random Cars thoughts I think about all the time pt.1

It’s currently fairly late (early?) and I can’t sleep so imma talk about things in the cars universe that I think about near constantly. Ok 1 2 3 GO

Mater private eye

Dude I think about this short all the fucking time man, but do you know what the best part about it is imo?

This character design RIGHT here. DUDEEEEE ok this might just be my sheer adoration of classic/vintage cars but this bitch showed up and I went feral a bit. First of I cannot believe they created such a bomb ass character for this five minute short and he’s just never seen again but dude it fits the 1920’s theme so perfectly, the way they’ve exaggerated the front fenders to resemble the turned up collar of a trench coat, the way his roof resembles a flat cap like it’s literally so COOL MAN. I actually can’t stress enough how excited my pathetic little monkey brain got when I saw this design for the first time. The fact (In my opinion) that they were trying to mirror the car seen in peaky blinders (1927 Bentley 6.5 litre) is also extremely cool as you can see the whole gangster element really come through in the character before he’s even properly introduced RAHHHH. I’m so incredibly biased about this because this design alone hits like three of my hyper fixations at once but RAHAHRBHAHAHSBS HES SO FUCKING COOL I NEED TO OWN HIS DIE CAST AHHH

The Thomasville racers

I would just like to state my love for the thomasville racers. YES I know they play a moderate role in the third film and get plenty of screen time I guess but in my humble opinion THEY DESERVE MORE. Do you have ANY idea how hard a prequel movie/series would go (I KNOW ITS EXTREMELY UNLIKELY AND KINDA IMPOSSIBLE) I would give a kidney to see these characters in their prime, just from the flash backs of their races I just know it would be so much fun to watch. Seeing them interact with Doc would be an absolute highlight, being able to gauge their own personal relationships with him, Louise’s feelings towards him (fucking pop off babe love her) it would all be so interesting to see and I would start backflipping irl if Pixar EVER announced they were going to expand on them as characters. Also river is the best I didn’t talk abt him here because I don’t have any immediate thoughts but be’s silly and I enjoy him.

Car biology

Now there is one thing that comes to mind in this fucking fandom when you talk about car biology, and that is the obvious how the fuck do they reproduce. DOESN’T MATTER I HAVE A BIGGER QUESTION. Are their eyes wet. Hear me out here ok, cars cry, we see it happen and there’s implications at multiple different points throughout the franchise that they have tears. Does this mean their eyes are wet??? Or are they crying wiper fluid or something? I feel like that would make sense but the line between what are bodily fluids and what are yummy delicious beverages is so painfully blurred that It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re chugging wiper fluid too. The eyes are wet argument is overall kinda silly because we see lifeless car wrecks in some of the shorts and the windshield is still intact! So this presents something worse than eyes are wet, it implies that the car itself is like an exoskeleton and all the meaty important parts are on the inside! Yay! I only say this because we know they have brains obviously and it’s mentioned in some official book that I can’t remember the name of right now but it’s CANON they have brains. So are the brains MEAT? Because if the brains are meat then the eyes are probably squishy too!! But if they have windshields and we think about the exoskeleton thing are their eyes just freakish gelatinous cubes smushed behind the windshield? BUT IF THATS THE CASE WHY DO THEY NEED EYELIDS? I’m aware that this is all highly stupid and trivial but Pixar made too many decisions with absolutely no was to explain them in a child-friendly way and ultimately backed themselves into a corner about stuff like this and now there’s sleep deprived neurodivergents on tumblr dot com trying to pick up the pieces.

Anyway that’s it for this one I might post more of these in the future because it’s fun to just rant about ridiculous shit for no reason lmao

#cars fandom #pixar cars #cars 2006 #doc hudson #tow mater #cars

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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Four)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

****

Conversation Four: Mercedes

“So, then to top it all off… she tells me that she wants Blaine to teach her how to give a decent blowjob. Now, don’t get me wrong, if someone wants to learn from the best - Blaine is the person to go to. But I mean, that just set the tone for the whole day, as you can clearly see.”

Kurt is in his recliner, a cup of warm tea in his hands as he recounts his day. Mercedes is curled at the end of the couch with a cup of hot cocoa. The bright afternoon sun settles warmly through the window between them.

“Can you even believe them?” Kurt asks, taking a sip.

Mercedes smirks into her mug. “Them? Have you heard yourself? Admit it - Kurt Hummel. You are obsessed with sex.”

Kurt stares at her - shocked. “Me?!”

“Yes, you!”

“C’mon, Mercedes!” Kurt’s not even sure why he feels so defensive about it. Maybe it’s the way she’s eying him in disbelief. “I am hardly as bad as everyone else. Haven’t you heard the stories I’ve told you. My day has been steeped in sex but it’s hardly been my doing. For one thing, I haven’t seen Blaine all day.”

“Kurt, please,” she tosses back. “You are hardly innocent in all of this. Are you going to tell me that Rachel Berry doesn’t know what your favorite position is - not because she asked, but because you decided to pass along that little bit of info yourself.”

Kurt gives a scandalized little gasp. “Oh, my god, did she really tell you…”

“I also have it on good authority that you’ve willingly gone with Santana to one of those adult stores, even though you’ve vehemently let it be known how much you find porn gross.”

“It was one time,” Kurt bites back. “And Blaine wanted to try a thing that may or may not have worked…”

Mercedes snorts into her cocoa. “And how many of us, besides Blaine, know at least one of your sex fantasies. I could probably name at least three, eh, five if pressed.”

“It’s not my fault that you guys take advantage of me when I get drunk.” Kurt grumbles as he takes another sip of his tea. This is not how he had hoped the conversation would go. Usually, Mercedes is on his side.

“Yes, you become quite the handsy, little drunk,” Mercedes says. She’s finding all of this way too amusing for his liking. “At least Blaine has enough sense to get you out of there.”

“So, fine, I’m way past my baby penguin days,” Kurt says. His anger dissipates as he begins to consider her situation, and takes a more serious tone. “Is there something more? Do you feel… like you’re left out?”

She gives him a funny look. “Why would I be left out? Because I’m still a virgin?”

Kurt waves a hand at her. “Oh, please, Mercedes, everyone knows virginity is a made up construct to keep a power balance in heterosexual couples. I mean, where exactly is the line? Once you’ve had an orgasm why does it matter if…”

Mercedes flips her hand up immediately. “Okay, stop. So not where I was going with that. I am not ashamed of the experience level that I’m at or my personal choices that have gotten me here.”

“I guess I’m not fully understanding then,” Kurt admits, setting his mug down on the end table. “If I’m being honest, I thought I’ve held back because I’ve never thought you were really interested in any of that stuff.”

“Kurt, I don’t mind if you do come talk to me about… anything really,” Mercedes says. “Do I really need to know that you refuse to ever try flavored condoms again because you hate them all? Not not really…”

“Oh, they’re so bad,” Kurt cuts her off. “I’m so glad we don’t have to use them anymore. But we just had to experiment because Blaine got curious about every single one…”

“See, this is what I’m talking about.” Mercedes clasps her hands together, and points them at Kurt. “I am thrilled that you feel open enough to talk to me about all of these things. And while you are a blatant oversharer when you don’t realize it, I don’t mind, because I am happy that you confide in me these things. And someday, after I’m ready to settle down and get married - maybe I’ll want to share things with you. Maybe not as much, I’m definitely not the same kind of person. But, it’s okay that you rattle off a dozen or so sex stories.”

“That’s sweet, Mercedes,” Kurt says tilting his head. “But I guess I’m still a little confused as to your point.”

Mercedes takes a deep breath. “Kurt, I love you. But you can’t go judgy on all of your friends when you are just as bad a culprit sometimes.”

“I--” Kurt begins to protest, but finds that he can’t. Because she’s not wrong. He likes sex. He loves sex. It’s an important part of his life. But, to him, it’s always been a somewhat private aspect of his life. Something sacred he shares between him and Blaine. It’s an eye opening thought that he’s expressed it outwardly as much as Mercedes claims. He leans back in his chair, somewhat speechless. “I’m sorry, Mercedes, I guess I never realized I did that.”

Mercedes drinks more from her mug, retaining that smug look. “Oh, you all do it. I’ve grown accustomed to hearing all of it. It’s like you’re all in some kind of weird competition with each other to outdo each other’s sex stories.”

Kurt laughs a little as he picks his tea back up. “I am learning so much today.” He shakes his head as he takes a sip. “But I guess, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t consider myself higher than anyone else.”

She grins at him. “There ya go.”

“Also, I am sorry if I ever got a little handsy with you any of those times we went out to a club together.”

“Sweetie, it’s fine,” Mercedes assures him. “Your hands didn’t go anywhere I didn’t want them to. Besides, it was kind of hilarious watching Rachel get mad that you weren’t trying to get to second base with her.”

Kurt buries his head in his free hand. “Oh my god, I just have to give up drinking.”

“Well, we know you won’t give up sex…” She gives him a wink. “But really, it’s fine, just as long as you don’t ever ask me for a threesome. I love you, Kurt Hummel, but not enough to let you suckle my delecate flower.”

“She, this is why I have to tell you these stories, Mercedes,” Kurt says, indignantly. “If Rachel and Jesse are going to traumatize me - you better believe that I’m going to make sure everyone else is going to feel the trauma, too.”

Mercedes throws her head back in a fit of laughter as Kurt returns to his mug.

#s.o. writes things #five times #kurt hummel #kurt hummel fic

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gffa · 1 year

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hi again, lumi!

i’m interested in learning about about other force traditions (both in current canon and eu/legends), the history of the nightsisters/dathomir, and any magic/abilities outside of or antithetical to the force in eu/legends/etc.

i know this is technically three big questions rolled into one, so don’t feel obligated to answer haha, but any guidance you have is appreciated!

Hi again! Ohhhh, I fear this is going to be the most unsatisfying answer ever. Because there is--simultaneously--both a ton of information about other Force traditions and almost nothing about other Force traditions. For a long time, other Force-traditions were only kind of hinted in the canon. I have a post here that collected together what we knew up until about three years ago, but aside from groups like the Sith or the Nightsisters (neither of which had much worldbuilding to them beyond bits and pieces), they were mostly just mentioned as existing or we’re shown flashy lights without any true explanation like the Lasats from Rebels showing the way to Lira San or that we know the Bardottens connected to the Force passively, but we don’t really see much beyond that. There are some books that touch on Sith traditions--like Secrets of the Sith (2021 by Marc Sumerak)--but even they’re fairly thin. The Nightsisters you’re probably better off reading the Wookieepedia article (as always, take any secondhand sources with a grain of salt, including my own posting about things! we try to be accurate in our retellings, but it’s never the same as reading the source material for yourself) than asking me, because I’ve never delved into them much. THAT SAID, the High Republic is actually starting to really get into it with Phase II and expanding on that part of the galaxy. None of them delve terribly deeply into what the Force-traditions are, but you’re introduced to a great many groups, especially those that gather on Jedha, including the Convocation of the Force which was a council that gathered to promote connections between various Force traditions.

During the time of the High Republic, they don’t exactly get along very well, there’s a lot of tension and fighting, but we’ll see where all of this is going. There’s also the group the Path of the Open Hand, which first appeared in the novel Path of Deceit and they’ll play a major (antagonistic) role across the bigger arc of this phase, and they’ll show up in more books and comics, though, basically their belief is: The Force does not want to be used, anyone who uses it, even to help someone, is taking it away from somewhere else, so if you save one person here, another person dies somewhere else to balance it. So they’re not exactly going to get along great with the Jedi. My best suggestions for Force-traditions to look into would be: - Rogue One: The Ultimate Visual Guide which has an entire section on the various religions that are connected to Jedha - Path of Deceit which is where we first meet the Path of the Open Hand and is a really interesting contrast of what a Force cult actually looks like versus the Jedi who very much are not a cult - Star Wars: The High Republic (2022) ongoing comic which is where the above panels are from. It’s only four issues right now and only lightly describes each group, but you’ll get a sense of how the various Force religions interact with each other at the time. - The High Republic: The Battle of Jedha which is an audiodrama (possibly best listened to after Convergence? idk, I haven’t read it yet, but if you want the best experience Path of Deceit --> Convergence --> Battle of Jedha seems to be the way to go) about the Festival of Balance on Jedha, including many varied Force religions.

#the force #meta

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thefandom-casserole · 6 months

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Episode Three- The Lord of Chaos

My relisten notes

- The opening song!!!! That one was good

- DadFact: Glenn plays an indeterminate brand of guitar

- DadFact: Favorite TV show is Bones (hmmm… this changes…)

- DadFact: Ron thinks a hug is a type of dog

- DadFact: Darryl’s favorite TV show used to be Bones, but then Finder was his favorite

- DaddyFact: Beth thought that her guy voice was so good she thought no one would know a girl was on the podcast

- “Have we canonically established what the Doodler is” “I don’t think we should” if only you guys knew 😔

- They’re taking a nap after telling jokes 😭 This is such Dad culture

- The same man twice!!!!! The Lord of Chaos!!!!!!!

- “I don’t know if that inn is still standing” Knowing how the Oak boys turned out hearing about them like this makes me so. fucking. sad.

- Ron comparing Henry and Darryl to his parents 💔

- WIAT IS IT CANONICAL THAT LARK AND SPARROW THROUGH THE PARTY WITH THE PITS? OR KS THIS JUST SOMETHING WITH THE TOWN!?!?

- I know this was a through-away line but the way they said “there’s professionals in both pits” after Henry mentions professional wrestling makes me think that Unfortunate Foster Children were in the fighting ring :)

- Yes this is me having constant Paeden brainrot fuck you

- Sherif Boreanaz 😭

- The Doodler!!!!!!! Adore them

- This episode brings so many things to light good god good god

- This is insane

- “You might be the unsung heroes!” Hmm I wonder if one of them is. Wouldn’t that be crazy woooooowwww

- ExtraDadFact: Henry really likes old westerns, but finds them very problematic at the same time

- Oooh since Henry falling didn’t count and unleash the Doodler means that either a.) someone with the Doodler in them (which we know are only the twins, Henry, Normal and Hero) wasn’t watching, or b.) he wasn’t yet the unsung hero and so you can BECOME the unsung hero

- Cool cool cool

- I love how they forgot that Darryl gave his Nokia phone to the Lance lol

- “The only people the Lord of Chaos seem to respect are people who fight” man I wish we got more Paeden-Twins interactions 😞

- The way they immediately went to exploiting the weakness. The nudeness of them good god

- This could’ve been such a cool fight scene 😭

- RON’S PANTS

#dndads #dndads spoilers #dungeons and daddies #dndads s1 #walruses8me relisten notes

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x0401x · 1 year

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I think you should do a post after every Tsurune ep, it's really cathartic to read your thoughts!

If I keep getting messages asking for it, then sure! I’m sorry for being so slow with them, though. Grad school entrance exams are draining away every ounce of my sanity. :^)

I guess this ask means you want a review of episode 5 as well, so here we go! Again, sorry for the wait!

So this episode delivers a lot more of the novel that we didn’t get on S1, such as Kaito and Nanao’s family. I love that we finally got to see their moms and sisters, as well as the fact that they often do get-togethers. Bonus for showing what kinds of pronouns/nicknames they use for each other.

We also get more of the girls’ team being an actual part of the club. Getting a new menu for practice, actively interacting with the boys, helping with prep and cleaning, having screen time doing their own training and officially becoming a team of competitors instead of just... being there.

In the middle of the episode, there’s one more peek at Ryouhei’s house (first one was in episode 2) and at long last, his sister shows up! We only see her back but that’s still something. We’re gradually getting eased into what is probably the second most complicated family of the whole series, and I like that the way KyoAni is going about it is exactly how I’d pictured. Well, more like how I wished S1 was.

Most importantly, perhaps for the very first time in the anime, we got to see Minato thinking about Masaki for no reason. I know this doesn’t sound important, but if I were to pinpoint what Minato’s most frequent habit is in canon, I’d say it’s thinking about Masaki. Whenever Minato is thinking of anything in the novel, Masaki pops right up. That, of course, if he wasn’t already thinking about Masaki to begin with. I don’t remember a single scene from any of the three volumes where Minato is thinking or worrying about something without Masaki hijacking his mind. And it’s never accidental or even incidental. Masaki is one of Minato’s main concerns. He thinks of Masaki about as much as he thinks of his own life. Partly because, one way or another, Masaki is always involved in whatever aspect of his life he’s thinking about. And now KyoAni has given us a small, tiny crumb of that. True allies.

At this point, a good portion of this season feels like a catch-up to S1. Many events of volume 2 are being either omitted or cut out so that there's enough space for the content we didn’t get in S1 to be inserted in this one.

Now, as in every episode, for all the canon-compliant content we get, we get just as much (if not double) non-compliant content.

This episode gives us Nanao and Kaito in a symbiosis. Nanao takes care of Kaito, Kaito protects Nanao. They’re essentially opposites who complete each other. If you take out the OOC-ness, there’s no problem with this choice of narrative... except maybe for the fact that it’s extremely overused. I’ve talked about this before but I feel the need to stress out once again that trying to use formulas that have worked for other series isn’t an effective way to garner more popularity. It actually tends to do the contrary. I do have a lot of respect for the original work’s tendency to avoid that at all costs. Instead, it takes the most common tropes and subverts them. Nanao and Kaito have everything to fall into that commonplace storyline, but the author is having none of it.

Novel!Kaito and Nanao are opposites, true, yet not the kind of opposites who complete each other. Rather, the opposite that completes Kaito is Seiya, but KyoAni is still pretending that Seiya has this exact kind of relationship with Minato instead, so as I mentioned when I talked about episode 4, someone has to fill up that hole. Nanao has been replacing Seiya ever since S1, but I guess KyoAni realized how weird and incesty it looked with it being so one-sided. We only had Nanao obsessively looking out for Kaito in the same way that Seiya obsessively looked after Minato, except there was no deeper reason behind it like there was with Seiya (as in feeling guilty for the death of Minato’s mother). So now this relationship is being balanced out, making it a two-way avenue.

In the novel, Kaito’s been looking after Nanao ever since they were little kids because his aunt asked him to. Nanao had always drawn in the attention of the people around him, and this earned him both favor and disfavor. We’ve seen that in this episode. What we didn’t see, though, is that, because of this, Nanao’s mother asked Kaito to protect him, and the result is that Kaito eventually grew up to be Nanao’s dad. Nanao was well-aware of this and often used it to his advantage. Basically, novel!Kaito is an unwilling “father” with a willing “son” and novel!Seiya is a willing “mother” with an unwilling “son”. He and Seiya have that in common; they’re natural-born caretakers, except Kaito doesn’t realize that he’s in this position. It’s just automatic for him. He’s probably been doing this for longer than Seiya has. That last bit was also shown in this episode, but it was instead presented as Kaito taking the burden on his own accord and compared to Seiya taking on the role of Minato’s watchful eye.

In short, the novel draws a parallel between Kaito and Seiya and uses it as a plot device for their relationship, while the anime draws a parallel between Kaito and Nanao's relationship and Minato and Seiya's relationship. The reason why I'm iffy about this is that it acts as if Kaito taking on other people's burdens is something that he simply does out of nowhere. There doesn’t seem to be much reason for it. With Nanao, we can understand, because that’s his family, but what about him trying to take part of the blame for Minato’s screw-up? This is being presented to us as a habit of his, except with no motive other than “that’s just how he is”.

In the canon, that's not how things go. Kaito does have a lot of concerns regarding the people around him, but as any normal person, he won't break boundaries. If he's not being let into someone else's affairs, he won't butt in, no matter how much he wants to. I dare say that this is a major character trait of his and that is what makes him endearing. He's impulsive as shit, but when he sees that he might hurt someone's feelings or that his input won’t be constructive, he backs off. That’s contra-intuitive for the readers, as we go in expecting him to be the cliche that the anime is giving us, but he isn’t. It’s a pleasant surprise.

And just to put it out there, as far as canon goes, there's literally nothing that Kaito wants more than for Seiya to let him into his personal business. He really wishes that Seiya would share the load with him and that is the main source of his character conflicts in the novels. It sometimes even feels like a parallel to Masaki and Minato, where Minato often makes reluctant mental notes on the fact that Masaki hides a lot of stuff from him. Both Masaki and Seiya are described, from Minato and Kaito’s POVs respectively, as having too many secrets. But that's too gay for TV. A gayness that is worsened by the fact that we never get any explanation for this in the novel. Like, none. Kaito isn't like this with anyone else and the text never goes "it's all because of their strong friendship" on these two. Instead, it gives us a love song as the literal only allusion to their relationship. Go figure.

Can't be having that bullshit in the anime, so change it KyoAni shall. Because anime!Kaito started doing this entirely on his own instead of it being a request from his aunt, we’re getting a different dynamic. KyoAni is adamant about Seiya being Minato’s knight-in-shining-armor (even without him getting the glory for it in this season), and without his presence, Kaito was reduced to an onboxious, arrogant little shit without much personality other than being dedicated to nothing but archery and acting mean to everyone except the teachers in S1. Nanao was there as a plot device in order to make Kaito remotely likable and also so that he’d have some inkling of personality himself, given that most of his lines had gone to Seiya. Yet now he’s here to complement Kaito and vice-versa. In building them like that, KyoAni has turned them into Minato and Seiya, except with a rivalry added to it.

From a storytelling point of view, I find this repetition and lack of creativity to be rather underwhelming. And on a personal level, I still think the way KyoAni goes on about Kaito and Nanao’s relationship is tad creepy. It’s just weird and off-putting to see two cousins mourning so sorely the fact that they’re slowly breaking free from this take-what-you-give system they’ve developed over time. In the novel, Kaito is Nanao’s nanny, sure, but it’s literally just small everyday life things that he does, such as helping Nanao carry heavy luggage or patching him up when he gets hurt during practice. That’s as far as it goes, just like Seiya caring for Minato only goes as far as offering him tea and towels during breaks or nursing him when he gets sick (that, of course, after Seiya has had proper closure from his personal conflicts and stopped being paranoid over Minato’s wellbeing). It’s all pretty normal and chill, fitting perfectly within the scope of what relatives and/or best friends do for each other. And the closest it gets to anything marginally negative is Kaito pointing to Seiya that he’s babying Minato too much while Seiya retorts that Kaito babies Nanao too much, which Kaito is in complete denial about.

I'm also not behind the rivalry between Kaito and Nanao. It totally overshadows the one between Minato and Shuu, and narrative-wise, that's not supposed to happen. It also makes any other sort of rivalry from this point on to feel somewhat repetitive and it doesn't have much of a reason to exist other than cover up for the fact that Nanao and Kaito have no personality otherwise. Besides, it's a contradiction, as far as the boys' skills go. Nanao is a great archer, but he isn't supposed to be able to compete with Kaito. Kaito being the ace is what makes him the oomae to begin with.

Anyway, case in point. I'm not digging this route in the anime, but I’m just gonna turn a blind eye to it. I think we’ve earned a lot of positive stuff from this mess.

Yeah, the flashbacks had some weird undertones. But they were accurate. Everything we got in them after the innitial parts that show the beginning of the duo’s symbiosis is completely in tune with canon. The difference is that we got this in the books in the form of description, while the anime has given us actual scenes, with dialogue and all that. They even include a nod to S1′s drama CD, which elaborates on Kaito and Masaki’s first meeting (something that we also only get in the form of a monologue in the novel).

Speaking of monologues, I like that we’re finally getting some stuff from Nanao’s point of view. In S1, we see very little of him and only through other characters. This time, he’s being his own person and although he’s very toned-down in the anime (just like everyone else, really), that’s still his canon personality. He’s a lot less sparkly than his canon counterpart, but the essence of his character is indeed being presented to us viewers. Add that to the fact that he’s been given his original hairstyle in this season, and there you have it. At long last, it feels like I’m finally seeing Kisaragi Nanao in the anime for the very first time.

Not just that; I feel like we’re also properly seeing his relationship with other characters for the first time. In S1, we basically only got snippets of his relationship with Kaito and that’s it. Here, though, we’ve been getting to see not just a deeper look into said relationship but also him interacting significantly with other characters. The other boys analyzing him and Kaito, looking out for them, knowing them. These boys are on each other's radars. That’s some refreshing shit right there. At last, it feels like we're watching a series about a group of friends. I especially like the emphasis on Minato and Nanao's interaction. Another thing from volume 1 that's being added here. Better late than never.

I gotta confess that every time KyoAni fixes something they left a hole in during S1, it’s as if the fact that something was missing the whole time is being thrown in our faces. It also somehow feels like KyoAni is offering us an apology with each of these little fixes. It leaves a bitter aftertaste, but frankly, I appreciate the effort.

In conclusion, I can overlook the creepy vibes that Kaito and Nanao’s relationship give me in the anime because the pros are worth the cons in my book. But here’s where I draw the line: Kaito being portrayed as violent.

Kaito is described in the novel, throughout all three volumes, as “aggressive”. Because he is. Just not physically. He’s quick-tempered and he runs his mouth when he’s mad, and he’ll go as far as glaring and closing up distance with whoever he’s having a heated discussion with, but never, ever, has he laid a hand on anyone. As far as canon goes, Minato and Seiya are much more likely to throw fist than Kaito. The closest he’s gotten to hitting someone was in a scene where Eisuke insults Kazemai to their faces and he almost loses it, but his arm accidentally hits Seiya’s glasses and knocks them to the floor, which gives him immediate regret. The thing nobody should ever forget about Kaito is that he’s dense and inept, but he has a pure heart.

So Kaito punching his former teammate back in the day? Whack.

Kaito getting pissed during practice and being disrespectful in the dojo? Whack.

Kaito pulling Nanao and Seiya’s collars? Fucking whack, my dudes.

I know that the anime isn’t depicting Kaito like he’s an asshole. Rather, he’s being treated as a reckless kid who takes things too seriously and pushes his feelings and values onto other people. That’s how the novel treats him as well. But the whole point of Kaito is that he seems menacing yet isn’t. He’ll talk shit, sure, but it takes a lot to make him even be willing to physically harm someone. This felt like one of the by-the-book safe-formula things that KyoAni has added to the series because they learned it from Free!, and I’m not a fan of it.

There are things in this episode that I'm a fan of, though. I think the frame composition in this one was especially good. I specially love the way that Kaito and Nanao were placed in all sorts of yin-yang ways on-screen (even though this is something that's supposed to be a Minato and Shuu thing, I'm just taking whatever I can get). But above all, I love the way that Seiya and Kaito are poisitioned in the scenes where they appear together. Finally, the anime is beginning to take a step on closing the distance between them. The physical distance, at least. Their relationship is still nothing like it is in canon, but maybe this is a hint that they will get somewhere near the general area of how deeply connected they are in the books. Maybe.

There's some more stuff that I wanna give my two cents on, but I gotta take a look at the next episodes to make a judgement, so I'll leave just this here for now!

#tsurune #tsurune kazemai koukou kyuudoubu #tsurune tsunagari no issha #takehaya seiya #onogi kaito #kisaragi nanao #narumiya minato

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siriusblack-the-third · 8 months

Note

Do you think it’s possible both the Black and Potter families were Desi? The Desi and MENA Black family posts, Desi Potter family posts, and East Asian Black family posts have been living in my head rent free for a long time, and after reading some of your own posts (and the one you linked to), I’m wondering what geographic regions, ethnicities, or cultures best suit the Potters? Especially in the context of MENA or Desi House of Black, and MENA or Desi Sirius and Regulus, existing in the same canon/timeline/world/whatever. I guess I just really want to pick your brain, if you’re up for the conversation. Which. If you don’t want to discuss it, it’s totally fine! I would just rather ask someone who knows what they’re talking about than me just make a bunch of dumbass assumptions or read Wikipedia with 0 actual cultural context. In particular because the Potters and Blacks have such different stances on things like marrying Muggles or Muggleborns (or, hell, halfbloods) or even just how they interact with them in general. Based on some of the Potter history, they’ve always been more…lenient, I suppose, about mixing and social interactions, but based on your post some Desi communities would be very strict like the Black family. Are there the same sort of polarizing stances concerning caste and class? I’m just asking because the way Bellatrix in particular acts was compared in three separate posts to parts of overarching shared MENA and Desi cultural traits. I know not all families are exactly the same, but I wasn’t sure if there were such extreme disparities between families from similar backgrounds within Desi and MENA spaces, or how that applies to the Potters (or makes it more or less likely they’re Desi) in your opinion. I’m really sorry to bother you about this. Feel free to ignore it if it’s too much. If you have the time and energy, though, I would appreciate any insight you have to offer. (I’m also sorry if this is worded poorly). I don’t mean anything offensive by asking. I just don’t know how to find out without just…asking? I don’t want to put any pressure on you, so only answer if you’re comfortable. It’s just, I’m African American Diaspora so I can’t really claim any cultural competence, to know what it feels like to actually be Desi or MENA. If I’m honest, I’ve pictured James as black before and don’t know what it means or feels like to be someone I’m not, so a fresh perspective is refreshing. Plus, I want to write the Potters as non-white (I’ve never seen Harry as white), non-black POC with respect, care, and courtesy, and the best way to do that is to speak to real people. So again, I’m sorry for taking up your time. I hope this finds you well, and thank you for your consideration/for reading, even if you don’t want to, or can’t, reply.

I think it's very possible that both the Black and Potter families were Desi. And they can be any Desi culture you like. The way the Black Family can be maharashtrian, it can also be Bihari, or Uttar Pradeshi or any other regional culture you want to associate them with. Its entirely up to you and your imagination and the amount of information you have about the regional culture you want to tie them to.

For me, the Potters will always be Maharashtrian, mostly because I am a Maharashtrian and that is the culture I am most familiar with. Even in Maharashtra, which is the third largest province in India, the culture differs literally every 30 km or so.

Now about the Blacks' and Potters' differences in stances about blood purism: yes, there is exactly the same polarization in views about the castes and classes. There are many people who still follow the caste system even though it is "abolished" (I put this in double apostrophe because there has been a lot of political unrest in the north east Indian provinces about this over the past couple of months, search up recent events in Manipur if you want to know), and there are just as many people who are liberal and lenient. There are the same extreme disparities as you put it, and they are violent and if anyone tries to deny it they're an ignoramus and you shouldn't pay attention to them. The difference in... opinion, shall we say, of the people of India has been around for decades. There is a saying here "Unity in Diversity", and it is an excellent representation of the fact that India is diverse and it is going to stay diverse, and that is a good thing. There will be differences in culture, food, clothing, social cues, political stances, languages and dialects, religion and belief. These differences are what make India India. The likelihood of the Potters and/or Blacks being Desi is neither increased nor decreased by their stances in socio-politics, or any other habits/traditions that they follow or things that they say.

Re: you point about not knowing how to find out without asking— that is the only way to find out. If you don't ask questions, how will you get the answers? Pop into my inbox either here or on @amrut-ofthegods any time of the day and I'll make sure to answer. It might be a bit late but I will answer, I promise.

I'm so glad there are people actively wanting to learn about cultures and traditions apart from their own in a respectful manner, and anyone and everyone is always welcome to ask questions. Hope this helped!

#amrut rambles #amrut answers #harry potter #james potter #indian james potter #indian sirius black #indian potter family #desi potters #desi black family #indian black family

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aboardthehavocmarauder · 2 years

Text

The Different Perspective

Crosshair [CT-9904] PLATONIC • Bad Batch’s Kid • SFW/ANGST • She/Her Pronouns • Canon Bits • Utility!Reader • TW: Third Degree Burns / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

“What are you doing kid”

“Please don’t do this…”

“He’s not okay…”

“That’s not our Crosshair, Y/N…”

“So…we’re just going to leave him?” The tears rolled off her cheeks as she stood between the right and wrong. “I…I can’t leave him” she frowns looking at the pure disappointment written all over Hunter’s face as she didn’t even say another word when Crosshair carefully brought his arm around her shoulders glaring at the insubordinates that were once his brothers.

“Kid ple—-“ Hunter was cut off by Wrecker physically grabbing his form and pulling him out of there while the open fire started by the approaching troopers. “Y/N!” He cries out as the ramp closes on her tearful gaze.

“He’ll return when he comes to his senses, little one” Crosshair reassures pulling himself back gently resting his hand on her cheek wiping away the few tears. “They’ll all come when they’ve realized…”

You’ve made the right choice…

“How do you know for sure that we can trust this child with my elite squadron commander?” Rampart snaps at Nala Se while the two walked to the training facility to look at the new recruits for Crosshair’s squadron. But before she even answered him, she presented Y/N in the facility running a simulation by herself to prove she’d be an access. But the important thing…

“In Clone Force 99, the bond between the child and CT-9904 was very…different from the other clones in that squadron. She trusted him the most and he, if given the opportunity, would bomb an entire city if anything were to happen to his child. She has many assets but for a label, she’ll be the combat medic for your elite squadron. You’ll see her value yourself” She informs handing off the datapad to Rampart that held Y/N’s file of everything he needs to know.

Rampart narrows his attention on the child when the simulation was over and noticed Crosshair enter the facility to carefully look over Y/N to make sure she’s alright.

“They’re perfect.”

Crosshair prepared for the first mission alone as Y/N was forced to meet the rest of the squadron. Even if she was “old enough to be in a war” the four still looked at her as if she was a two year old given a blaster.

“You better not compromise any of the missions in the future.”

“Or you’ll pay for the consequences personally” The woman hissed as Y/N suddenly felt useless in this squadron but Crosshair wasn’t going to let her continue to feel that way.

Crosshair had watched the interaction from the building entrance to the hanger as ES-01 suddenly grabbed Y/N by the chest plate bringing her close to his face.

“I won’t hesitate to end you if you get in our way of the mission. Your file isn’t locked like the commander’s.” He snaps causing to spit in her face. “You will turn on us. And none of us would hesitate the end you…even the clone” he quickly shoves Y/N away causing her to trip up and fall on her butt.

Out of old instinct, Y/N curled up on herself holding her legs tight to her chest like it was the end of the world if she let go.

________

The sobbing didn’t go unnoticed as the building shook, Tech quickly did a scan of the building and there was a fifth body still warm.

“We need to find whoever that is.”

“We don’t have a lot of time Tech”

“We were told to evacuate the building before the device set off. Well the device set off and there’s still another person”

“Enough arguing. Let’s do the quick search and get out of here” Crosshair cuts into the argument and went in one direction as his brothers separated in three more.

The sniper found himself in the lab facility thinking the worse that was soon proven by the tubes and the screens still running to show they have done tests on several subjects. But he stopped when the sobbing came clearer that he didn’t need the sound amplification of his helmet to help him.

The small child curled more into the small cubby she found herself in when Crosshair made himself noticed.

“Hey I’m not going to hurt you”

She continues to curl hugging her legs to her chest tightly keeping her eyes away from Crosshair.

“We need to get out of here. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like. Just please take my hand” Cross states as another blast echoes the building causing the child to instantly run into his embrace trusting his words. He carefully picked her up and started running for the exit. “I’ve got the kid”

“A kid?! Fucking maker thank god this building is becoming dust. Hurry to the Marauder and let’s get out of here” Hunter states over the comms before cutting out.

Crosshair didn’t let go of her for one second and she grew attached to him which lead to the Kaminoans letting the child stay with him as some form of domestic experiment with Clone Force 99.

And…

________

He swore to never have her feel that small again.

“Is there a problem?” Crosshair’s voice caused her to look up immediately to find his glare piercing through his squadron making them step back. “I’d watch what you say to my daughter. Or you’ll suffer the consequences”

And the tall blond, ES-01 paid for said consequences with his useless commentary. As Crosshair stood by his lifeless body before quickly turning to Y/N watching her tense at the sight but relax when he carefully rests his hand on her cheek wiping away the tear that fell.

“He will never bother you again”

Y/N fell quiet for the flight back to Kamino and as it doesn’t go unnoticed by Crosshair, he didn’t want to pressure her into saying anything she wasn’t comfortable with. He kept close to her even when he had his work to do.

Back on Kamino, Rampart approached Crosshair to talk about ES-01 as Nala Se gestures for Y/N to follow her. But Crosshair wasn’t having it.

“You don’t do anything without my knowledge”

“We are simply talking, commander. She’ll be safe” Nala Se reassures as Y/N gave Crosshair a look to reassure him between the two before separating.

“I’ve been informed of your comm going missing”

“You track my device?” Y/N questions the Kaminoan as she was lead into an office that she’s never seen before. “Where—-“

“We are in an unmonitored room. No cameras. No bugs. Nothing. You’ll tell me exactly why the only channels open on your communicator is to the Havoc Marauder and CT-9901 and 3. You’re risking their safety more than your own”

“…So, you’re telling me to stop. To keep them from being tracked”

“Yes. As much as I am a scientist loyal to the Empire. They were my creations. I…as humans call it…care for them. They are already being targeted by bounty hunters to receive the child and they are targets by your commander. Hopefully deep down he doesn’t hurt his brothers. But what can be stopped now”

“Is my communication with them….” Y/N frowns removing her chest plate to take her old communicator off the interior handing it to Nala Se watching her immediately destroy it.

“It’s for their safety. They are risking their lives enough”

“…so when they said that they’ll come back for me”

“It’s highly unlikely”

Once their conversation was over, Crosshair quickly stepped out of the conference room and sprinted toward the lab portion of Kamino but skid to a stop when he heard his kid sobbing. He went toward it and found himself by their shuttle but more specifically the edge of the hanger door dangling her feet over the edge quickly wiping away her tears.

“You’re allowed to cry if you’re upset…I want to know why if you’ll tell me” Cross frowns setting his helmet down before sitting beside Y/N letting her head fall on his shoulder.

“Are we…really doing the right thing?”

“What?”

“Is following the Empire the right decision?”

“Yes”

“How do you know that?”

“I…” He stops himself and continued to question himself wondering if this was the right choice…did he make the right choice?

Stay with the Empire

Stay with his child

Because both feels so wrong…He made a mistake

“I’ll protect you. Until my dying breath. I won’t let any of my squadron touch you or talk to you harshly ever again. I won’t let the Empire change you like it’s changed me”

Y/N continued to sob as she wraps her arms around him tightly feeling him squeeze her in his embrace.

I will destroy the Empire from within if they lay a hand on who you are.

The enhancements got harsher and stronger. But what Crosshair promised, didn’t change. The two did everything alone except for missions. That would be the only time they saw the rest of his squadron. They trained together. Eat together. Nala Se gave Y/N a private sleeping quarters so she wouldn’t have to be near any of the other squad mates. Crosshair would stop by to check on her every now and then especially before he sleeps and after he wakes up.

When word got out that Clone Force 99 was on a decommissioned medical facility, Crosshair’s squadron was already prepared to set out onto the scene. But before Y/N got on the ship, she was stopped by Crosshair as he presented something to her that only grew her upset expression.

“We’re already going after them. I don’t need that.”

“I know. But if something were to happen to me” Crosshair watches the worry suddenly flood her eyes. “You’ll need it” he handed it off to her before boarding the shuttle leaving her to stare at what lies in her grasp.

“We’ve got company”

The Bad Batch collected themselves and started to head toward the marauder when they were surrounded. Crosshair presenting himself getting an annoyed remark from Wrecker but then Tech pushed his brother out of the way.

“Where’s our kid?”

“What do you mean? She’s right there” Cross rolls his eyes talking about Omega as he readies his weapon. “You could’ve fought harder for her to keep her with you”

“Oh we all know that she’s closer with you. But why in maker’s name would you let her fall in the dark side” Echo snaps cutting into the conversation as Crosshair had enough letting his squadron take over.

As the two squadrons managed to separate from one another then leading to the ion canon. When the worse came as Crosshair reached the short end of the stick with the ion canon, the batch quickly took the opportunity even if it meant their brother could die. But before it got too bad, the ion canon suddenly flashed its blast out the side as it slowly rips open by its side. Before Crosshiar lost consciousness he spotted Y/N dropping at the bottom of the ion canon closing her lightsaber then the canon exploded beside her.

“Y/N—-!!” He weakly yells and collapses where he stood.

Do what is right

Do what is—-s—save him

Save him

SAVE HIM

Cad Bane glares at Hunter from the Marauder and hovered his hand over his weapon while he did the same. But the sergeant dropped startling Omega and surprising Cad when he found a now enraged Y/N with her entire left arm burned up to the shoulder and neck with part of her face from the canon. As she hisses in pain Omega thought she was being saved but with the drop of her blaster and the sudden ignition of her red saber…Y/N brought herself up close to Omega and as much as it hurt she grabbed the child with the force, tossing her toward the bounty hunter who gave the confused sith/jedi a satisfied look.

“Thank you for making my job easier”

“Just get her the fuck out of here and at the rendezvous point” Y/N groans dragging herself out of the hanger looking down at Hunter’s unconscious body kneeling beside him for a moment.

Then while she held a device to his neck, Y/N watches as the firing started against the rest of the batch as she injected what she was instructed to inject. As the three approach the two seeing the saber and froze for just a second.

“Y/N…oh my god”

“Hon come with us. We’ll help you—“

“Like you helped him?! You left him behind and I wasn’t going to let him suffer alone” Y/N yells as the adrenaline started to weaken in her body causing her to drop to her knees. “You’ve failed him. You failed…m-me” she coughed blood suddenly and closed her saber lifting it up getting confused looks but then the drone came by grabbing the hilt pulling her up and out of there as the firing grew heavy catching them all off guard.

There’s no point anymore…

You weren’t replaced, you made a choice

Because he couldn’t suffer alone

Rampart stood at the feet of both unconscious beings smirking to himself as he watched the location of Sergeant Hunter following the trail of the bounty hunter until there was no read on Cad for the time being. He was impressed by both of their work today.

“Need anything more before the droids start dressing changes?”

“No ma’am. Just satisfied by their work” Rampart starts to make his way out of the medbay. “Make sure they get the leave they deserve to recover from their injuries. But also update them on the status of Clone Force 99”

Nala Se watches Rampart leave the medbay before letting the medical droids get to work.

After a while, Crosshair woke up in a bed instead of a metal slab still in the medical facility of Kamino. He sits up almost immediately scanning the room to find the second bed in the room and Y/N sleeping to the best of her ability. But he noticed when she finally relaxed it last three minutes. Exactly three minutes before her heart rate rose and she hyperventilated awake. Crosshair watched her do this five times before ignoring his injuries so he could get out of the bed and limp over to Y/N startling her when he brought the railing down to bring himself into the bed. She hesitated at first but instantly rolled into his side as he wraps his uninjured arm around her keeping her close.

“Don’t ever do that again”

The two haven’t talked much since the medbay because they were experiencing too many things going on in their head that they didn’t know if it would scare the other or not. When the reality of it fell under the same thing.

What if we left

What happens if I get too consumed by the Empire

Did I do the right thing?

Ryloth was a situation that made Y/N question Crosshair straight up. Without another thought she asked him if he wanted to kill for the rest of his life for the wrong reasons, and he didn’t say anything back.

That’s when he decided to get his chip removed. It was damaged after his injury, yet still worked enough for Rampart not to care. But when Crosshair approached Nala Se about having his chip removed, she knew.

“Are you doing this for her? To prove a point that working with the Empire is the right choice?”

“It’s not. I don’t need a chip to know it’s not”

“Then why follow orders?”

“I can prevent a lot from happening while on this side of the line. Others won’t see it that way. My daughter…won’t see it that way. But I would’ve never let them harm her or my brothers. I’ll follow the orders and act as it sees fit but right as the moment comes to our favor, I sabotage it”

Nala Se stares at the clone before her watching his body tense from anxiety thinking what could’ve happened if things went different. But without her questioning anymore, she went ahead with removing his chip. He was unconscious for a few days after the procedure given the extensive damage.

The Kaminoan went to check on him one night when she spotted Y/N curled up in the chair beside his bed wrapped in his blanket. She slowly approaches the bed seeing Crosshair wide awake watching his kid as she started to do a neuro exam.

“You have an opportunity. With this upcoming mission on Daro. To leave”

Crosshair turns to Nala as she continued to talk about the possibility of his brothers heading to the facility on Daro to retrieve one of their own. Based on comm channels she’s been tracking since her creations left Kamino.

“To protect her and your brothers, you’d reunite them. You won’t be forgiven instantly. That’s the price you’ll pay. But if your loyalty is towards the right side. You’ll make the right choices” She finally says on her way out.

•

“Where’s…Commander Crosshair?”

“He’s not on this mission. But you are and since I’m standing in his place, you’ll follow my orders” The pyro of the squadron snaps at Y/N as she hesitantly joins them on the shuttle to Daro.

Finding Gregor lead to finding Y/N. Or really Y/N finding them scramble to get out of the facility.

Hunter removed his helmet staring at Y/N as she tried. Tried to do the right or wrong thing. Continuing to stare there confused and enraged. It didn’t take long for Tech to find the tracker she implanted so he was mad and confused why she so willingly did that. Why his kid did that…

“You’re not safe here…”

Both Echo and Tech relaxed hearing her say that and continued to get themselves out of there. She wasn’t going to do anything? Hunter thought watching the defeated look in her eyes as he didn’t hesitate for a second taking her face into his hands.

“Come with us. Please. He’s chosen wrong and you don’t have to follow him down that path…”

“…But that doesn’t mean he’s not family anymore.”

The sounds of footsteps made Y/N’s heart rate increase as she’s not supposed to be siding with “the enemy” or whatever you call this interaction. But she didn’t want Hunter to be separated from the others.

Yet

That happened anyway

Hunter found himself in a cell on a shuttle scheduled to go back to Kamino. It was wrong of him to pull Y/N with them when she knew something would go wrong. He just couldn’t stand having her fight for a side that is only going to use her. Deep down he wishes Crosshair knew that…

And he did. The cell door opened suddenly and instead of being in uniform for the empire or the elite squadron, Hunter saw Y/N rush in back in her batch colors immediately unlocking the binders they put on him.

“What are you doing?!”

“Deserting. Now hurry up” Y/N frowns pulling him to his feet as Hunter had a death grip on her hand when the shuttle moved. “Shit”

“You have a plan or—“

“I do” Crosshair makes himself present as he managed to get a mandalorian jet pack from one of their previous successful missions and handed it off to Hunter. “The second I open the hatch. You’ll jump and get out of here. The flight doesn’t have to be pretty. You know what to do” he states leading the two to the storage compartment getting ready to let them out.

“But where’s yours?” Y/N questions Crosshair as he shot Hunter one quick look, ignoring the kid. It didn’t take long for her to connect the dots and the tears to spill. “No. No!”

“This is the only way”

“What the fuck do you mean?! You lied to me? Saying you had a plan that includes all of us getting the fuck out of here…but you’re…”

When the hatch hissed open and the murmurs from above were growing louder. Hunter jumped out starting the jet pack and keeping his pace with the active shuttle while Y/N continued to argue with Crosshair but the sniper wasn’t having it.

“Please…please” Y/N begged, sobbing at her dad. The one who kept her safe. Loved her.

Crosshair felt the tears roll off his face carefully approaching Y/N taking her face into his hands wiping away her tears.

“I love you. You’re my kid.” Cross gave off a short laugh. “But you’re perfect and I won’t let the dark side ruin you” he kisses her forehead immediately then pressed his forehead against hers for a second.

“Please…”

Without a second thought…Y/N was pushed out of the shuttle and as she fell, his heart broke.

But this was the only way…

#aboardthehavocmarauder #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader

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