#Oh i miss him so much. I know I talk about how my dads dead but never about the real ache. I miss him i do. I miss him i miss him i miss hi

[rqlaji2]

Equator into the winner takes it all shuffle is fuckin with me rn

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Can you do headcanons for a young child reader who constantly follows jax around, loves physical affection, and thinks jax is their 'dad'?

(Obviously this request is plantonic, not romantic!)

I think I might've went a little overboard with this one! Way longer than most of my posts but I guess that isn't really a bad thing ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Jax unwillingly becomeing a parent

★ His first and only question was how the hell did a four year old get in this situation. The headset should have been way out of reach for you. Questions that will never be answered, I guess.

★ After making you cry the first time he spoke to you he tried to steer clear of you. That worked out horribly because you seemed to want to always be near him. Much to everyone's confusion.

★ "oh my! Looks like the little one has taken an interest in you!" Was Cain's response to seeing you huddled up near Jax. At some point he gets a child harness to keep you in his line of sight. It's just easier this way.

★ By the way he didn't mean to make you cry, he just didn't know how young you were and said something he would've said to an adult. Kids cry easily, what are you gonna do?

★ Jax stole a few pillows from Kinger for you to sleep with. Yes, you don't technically need to sleep but he's not going to tell you that. Nap time is one of the only times he can get a moment to himself.

★ He gets beyond pissed when you get woken up during nap time. To the point where he's barely keeping it together and wants to beat whoever woke you up with a chair leg.

★ If you want to be picked up, then he's picking you up. It doesn't matter if he's talking to somebody or doing something. You'll get picked up while he's doing something and without missing a beat he'll continue like nothing happened.

★ Instead of giving you the usual Jax treatment, he just tells you the most outlandish lies while trying to convince you that they are true. Sometimes he tells you something that sounds so true you don't question his bullshit.

There's a list of things he's told you!

If you push down on Ragatha's nose it will make a honking noise.

There's a secret room hidden in a closet filled with veggies for people who are allergic to meat.

Birds aren't real.

When he was your age, he was a year older. (It took you a moment to figure that one out)

Caine is the tooth fairy.

★ Jax isn't known for his empathy, but he does feel conflicted when you talk about small details from your life before meeting him. What color your house was, the lullabies your mother sang and the books you used to be read. It all makes him think.

★ You're family might be looking for you, not knowing where you are and that you're trapped. Do you even realize this? They probably think you're dead, that something terrible happened to you. Those thoughts make his stomach sink.

★ If he cares about you this much he can only imagine the grief your family feels. You will forever be a blissfully ignorant child not knowing the truth of what's really going on.

[i-cant-sing]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

-

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

[imagineshere-forall]

- staying with mom pt. 2 ✰ e. diaz

Summary/Request: For a part 2 to Staying With Mom, maybe they’re at the hospital getting Mom checked out and both Chris and Eddie keep calling her mom. The reader is just having all the feels and she just loves it and Eddie loves it too. If you need more detail just let me know.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: poor medical knowledge and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing:  Eddie Diaz x fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Not super happy with how this turned out, but oh well, I missed writing and wanted to write some more. Please send requests im up to s7 of the walking dead, so am also taking requests for that! Also in this Shannon never came back, she left and Chris has no memory of her.

part one

The journey in the ambulance had been uneventful, despite there being a paramedic in the back of the van with you and your boys, Eddie had taken over your care. The paramedic that had been accompanying in the van had mostly just sat back and let him take over, occasionally pointing out where some bits of equipment were.

The pain in your leg was still excruciating, and it didn’t help that Eddie was shining a light in your pupils every few minutes to check the reactions. Once he realised your leg injury was not your only injury, and you had been knocked unconscious by debris, he had become frenzied urging the driver to go faster while he kept checking your vitals. You hadn't even told him you hit his head, but when he helped you to get a bit more comfortable on the stretcher he noticed the blood that stained his hand after he held your head.

“Eddie, I’m fine, my leg is just hurting” You said, pushing the torch away from your face after Eddie started checking your eyes again.

“Fine? Babe your head is bleeding and your leg is looking a bit squashed,” Eddie sighed. He was clearly worried about you. 

Chris had remained curled up to your side on the stretcher, clutching your middle, scared to let go. Despite the stressful situation, his heart had warmed at the sight in front of him. 

Once you had arrived at the hospital you were placed in the urgent waiting room. As you were still conscious and talking, people who had been more injured in the earthquake had taken priority over you. Due to the state of your leg the ambulance staff had placed you in a wheelchair and disinfected the stretcher before they headed back out to help more people. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked, once again. 

“Chris, your dad is crazy,” You said, ignoring Eddie looking at the boy slouched over the arm of your wheelchair. Eddie rolled his eyes and smirked at this. 

It wasn’t much longer until you were called to be seen by a doctor, and your boys quickly stood up and wheeled you into the room with the doctor. Chris held onto your hand and walked alongside you as Eddie pushed you.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked as soon as she shut the door to the private room.

“Mom got hurt in the earthquake,” Chris spoke first. He was so quick that you hadn’t had the chance to speak yet. 

“Well, we better check mom out then,” The doctor said, smiling at Chris.

For the rest of the appointment, you were referred to as mom as the doctor tried to reassure Chris, and it just warmed something in your heart. Unknown to you but it also made Eddie’s heart swell. 

Despite you feeling fine, the doctor wanted to keep you for observation overnight and you had managed to convince her to let Eddie and Chris stay with you. Chris went back to being snuggled into your side once you were given a bed, and promptly fell asleep. 

“How are you feeling, mom?” Eddie whispered, putting emphasis on the last word. 

“Apart from the broken leg, I feel amazing,” you whispered looking down at the sleeping boy tightly curled into you. “I can’t believe he called me mom.”

“He loves you so much, as do I.” Eddie smiled as he leant forward to give you a small kiss “Which I guess means I've got to do something.”

You looked puzzled as Eddie leant over and shook Chris awake. 

“Eddie, he was asleep, what are you doing?” you ask, very confused, but your question was ignored.

“Chris, do you remember that thing I said I was going to ask mom one day, it’s time.” Upon hearing this Chris shot up, filled with so much energy and sat up at the end of your bed.

“Your jacket is over there dad” Chris pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. Eddie quickly stood up, and hurried over to the chair, almost slipping over on the clean hospital floors.

“Be careful Eddie, we don’t want both of us injured,” you sighed.

“It’s all good mom, don’t you worry,” he smiled.

Eddie sat down in the chair next to your head, jacket folded over on his lap, and took your hands in his.

“What are you doing?” You sit up a bit more in your bed, confused as to what was happening.

“It’s okay mom,” Chris said. It was hard to feel worried when he called you mom, it made you so happy. You turn back to Eddie who has your hands in his. 

“y/n, you have made both mine and Chris’s life so much better. There isn’t anyone I’d rather be Chris’s mom, and my wife.” Eddie paused, reaching into the inside zip pocket of his jacket. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you were in such shock you were speechless. In Eddie’s hand was a small velvet box. While holding the box, he went back to cradling your hand. 

“y/n will you do me the absolute pleasure of being my wife” Eddie’s voice started to crack. 

“And my mom!” Chris shouted.

“Yes, and Chris’ mom. Will you please marry me?” At this point, Eddie’s voice was wobbling while he awaited your answer. 

You struggled to speak, eyes streaming, your spare hand over your mouth in shock. Unable to get the words out you just nodded. 

“Yes?” Eddie questioned.

“Yes.” you nodded. 

Eddie quickly grabbed your hand and placed the sparkling ring that was once in the box on your ring finger, and then kissed your face all over before placing on last kiss on your lips while cradling your face in his hands. 

“Eddie, have you just been carrying around this gorgeous ring?” you asked as you began to admire the jewellery adorning your finger. 

“For about a year and a half,” he shrugged looking down at your hand. 

“We’ve only been together a little over 2 years,” you laughed. 

“I would’ve had it sooner, but it was really hard to get your ring size without being obvious.” he smiled.

“You are crazy Edmundo,” you laughed.

“Crazy for you, and now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else, now get your butt on this bed, I want to have a cuddle with my boys,” you said as you shuffled making space for the three of you. Once Eddie was on the bed, you helped Chris get in the middle of you, it was tight and uncomfortable, but you didnt want to be anywhere else. 

“I love you guys, and now you’re my boys, forever.” you smiled as you placed a kissed on each of their heads.

“I love you mom” 

[gothiethefairy]

so, i've been thinking about laios's relationship with his mother. we all know about his daddy issues by now, but no one thinks about his mother. i mean, he disowned her as well. he hardly talks about her. he has a lot to say about his dad but when it comes to his mother, the most he'll say is "idk, she was kinda sick a lot."

and i think it was because he did hold her on a high pedestal. she's his mother, his protector. i know for sure she babied him a lot. mothers who's first-born is a son mostly do.

she was the one who even gifted him his precious monster manual!

so, what happened? why did he also lump her with his father and decided "i'm never speaking to them ever again." ?

to put it in simple terms, it was falin. laios was so upset about how his parents treated the situation about the villagers' abuse to falin. both of them didn't know how to handle it, but they both failed at protecting her. the best their father can come up with is sending falin away to the magic school. (without explaining why bc their dad sucked at communicating with his family.)

their village was also very conservative, especially towards magic-users. i always found it to be odd since magic does seem to be the norm in the "dungeon meshi" world, however evidence shows it's not all well-known all around the world. i mean, rin's parents were burnt to death for using magic that was thought to be "black magic".

and falin's natural magical talent being "talking to the dead" would make anyone nervous bc that could be linked to black magic.

their mother is always described to be "frail", and i bet it's mostly because she's very superstitious. gotta be honest here as well, she maybe wasn't mentally healthy. this is just an assumption but their mom comes off as paranoid and anxious, and then does these made-up rituals to try to "heal" her daughter.

hurting falin like this was the final nail in the coffin for laios, because maybe he thought he could rely on her? "hey mom, can you tell dad not to send falin away? please?"

yeah, she had "good intentions", but she still abused her daughter? because she made the situation about herself and went "oh god, it's my fault my daughter is a freak. i have to fix this."

also, laios looking so stressed and haggard here makes me so sad. like, what if their mother did something similar to him when he was younger? he wouldn't care about himself getting hurt, but seeing his own mother doing it to falin is nerve-wrecking.

the way both siblings are portrayed as autistic in different ways is important to their characters. just because falin understood why their parents did what they did, doesn't make it okay. they still hurt her, and laios knows that. and in a way, they hurt him too.

if their parents couldn't protect them from awful, nasty people and expected their children to just bare it, how can laios trust them?

this is scary to see for a child.

after that, he pretty much gave up on his parents and never looked back. but i also think, if he misses them, it's more his mother than his father.

afterall, he did his best to keep his monster manual safe.

[mayearies]

✩ ABC’S

sfw alphabet with miles g. genre: fluffy hcs

—‘A’ IS FOR AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?) pretty affectionate with his s/o even if he can be awkward sometimes, takes some time getting close to someone again. if you’re in public, he would mainly hold your hand. maybe sneak in a hug or kiss once in a while if he’s feelin’ handsy. when recieving affection, he’s always open towards it. even if it makes him a little embarassed at moments (mainly in public).

—‘B’ IS FOR BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?) once he get comfy with you, he the type to play with you but also have serious talks to. he would like to stay close to you and hang out with you a lot. he’s also really good at rps (rock paper scissors) and shadow boxing, you gettin’ bodied fo sho ‼️

—‘C’ IS FOR CUDDLES (what is their cuddling schedule?) he likes contact with you, preferably skin to skin so expect his hands up your back or your stomach. he can be both a big spoon or a little spoon, he just wants to hold you (he will be a little spoon most times which you will tease him about). one cuddle sesh a day is required for him to function.

“baby? where’s my hugs n’ kisses? you aint mad at me, right?”

—‘D’ IS FOR DOMESTIC (settling down? how will they be helping out around?) he would wait to get a fiancée, let alone a wife. but of course he would want to settle down with you. he loves you. a pretty decent home cook, nothing special. he would watch his ma make pasteles so it’s one of the dishes he can perfect. he tolerates cleaning. doesnt like it but doesn’t fully hate it.

—‘E’ IS FOR ENDING (how does breaking up go?) would absolutely try to avoid arguments all he can. depends on the reason why you two are splitting, but he will spill his feelings about the relationship out to you. in his head. he doesn’t enjoy speaking his thoughts very much and just feels it’ll escalate shit. though, he would wish you well.

—‘F’ IS FOR FIANCÉE (how committed are they to you?) puts his commitment to you over anything else. though he claims he is not in a rush to marry you and that it could wait, but at the same time he be talkin’ about baby names and what a dream it would be to marry someone like you.

—‘G’ IS FOR GENTLE (how gentle are they?) he’s gentle on most occasions. his rbf and cold aura can be misleading. the craves your touch and your kisses. however, he can be a little on the rough side. for example, his mental state. it isn’t the best with his dad being dead and being the prowler, but you make it more bearable with just your presence. he can also be on the rougher side by squeezing places he knows only belong to him (neck, thighs, waist, etc.)

—‘H’ IS FOR HUGS (how does their hugging schedule work?) he dont mind them. he just dont like the long ones. makes him uncomfortable in some way. he doesn’t do them that often, but when he does they’re really memorable and soft.

—‘I’ IS FOR I LOVE YOU (how quick do they say i love you?) waits a little long before pulling the big ‘l word’. i wouldnt describe him as head over heels for you, but he’s in love.

—‘J’ IS FOR JEALOUSY (what are they like when they’re jealous?) oh boy, can this man get jealous. like, hella jealous. if someone so much as stare too long at you, he’ll glare at them while bringing you closer towards him. touching you? a line nobody can cross. that shit is a death wish. his mami, not yours.

—‘K’ IS FOR KISSES (how does their kiss schedule work?) hold me back i finna go wild on this one. though you’re probably his first relationship like ever, he didnt know how to kiss at first. as time went on though, his kisses got really passionate and filled with longing. everytime he kisses you, he misses you just a little bit less cause he knows you’re here. you’re here to stay. you’re his. he would kiss you anywhere. your least favorite part? kissed. your favorite part? consider it done, bae. he likes cheek kisses a lot. he doesn’t know why, though. he also really likes looking at your eyes when he’s done kissing you, he likes eye contact in general. if you are avoiding it or simply looking away from him, he’ll snap his fingers in your face and hold your chin as you turn towards him.

“ma. look at me. i won’t ask twice.”

—‘L’ IS FOR LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?) not a fan of kids, they’re too noisy. he’s really awkward with them because he internally just thinks they’re little brats, but he also knows they’re stupid. his kid though? he will adore them so fucking much you might have to separate him.

—‘M’ IS FOR MORNINGS (how do your morning routines go?) he wakes up whenever you wake up. your morning routine is basically his, only that he adds a few more steps to it. those ‘few more steps’ being holding you for a solid five or so minutes before you carry on with your early rising.

—‘N’ IS FOR NIGHTS (how does your night routine go?) much like the mornings, his night routine is similar to yours. except, sometimes you dont even finish the whole thing because he wants your time and attention to himself before he drifts off to sleep.

—‘O’ IS FOR OPEN (when will they become more personal?) probably on the third or fourth date. the first two he would want to know more about you. but, he would drop little things he was interested in too.

—‘P’ IS FOR PATIENCE (how patient are they?) he doesn’t get upset that easily, with you atleast. don’t push him too far with your smart mouth, though. that’s what can really piss him off sometimes.

“the fuck you think you talkin’ to? tone down that attitude fo’ me.”

—‘Q’ IS FOR QUIZZES (how much would they remember about you?) he would remember the things that intrugied him about you, but he wouldnt remember every single thing. that’s how he knew what to buy you if he wanted to surprise you.

—‘R’ IS FOR REMEMBER (whats their favorite moment?) he loves them all equally, frankly if he had to choose he couldn’t.

—‘S’ IS FOR SECURITY (how protective are they?) pretty fuckin’ protective of you. and you love it. sometimes, he would stalk you just to see how you were doing or if you were okay. he just doesn’t want to lose someone again, he hopes you understand.

—‘T’ IS FOR TRY (how much effort do they put into your relationship?) he tries to make an effort into planning dates but those plans often get spoiled by his alter. he will always make it up to you, though. no matter what.

—‘U’ IS FOR UGLY (whats one of their flaws?) lying. he doesnt like to lie to you, but it keeps you safe. it got to the point where he would lie about little things on accident, like taking out the trash.

—‘V’ IS FOR VANITY (how insecure are they about their looks?) not a lot. if you think he looks good, then he looks good. sometimes he wonders how he even managed to pull someone like you.

“whatever, amor. if you think i look good, then i look good. whatever you say goes.”

—‘W’ IS FOR WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?) yes. nothing more.

—‘X’ IS FOR XTRA (random hc about them?) he behaves like a cat sometimes without even knowing it.

—‘Y’ IS FOR YUCK (whats something they dont like in a partner?) he probably doesnt like loud noises. yes, he does ride a motorcycle but he probably wears earplugs to help with the noise.

—‘Z’ IS FOR ZZZ (what are their sleeping habits?) he’s naturally a light sleeper, so anything faint could wake him up. something he does when you sleep with him is that he would hold you so close and tight that you once had a dream you fell and broke your back. and a actually felt that pain in real life. yikes. another habit he has is playing with your hair subconciously and muttering things about you in his sleep. you both have woken up to it multiple times.

© mayeluvsu 1610 version

[its-rach-writes]

Like Father Like Son - Chapter One

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war, a Golden Retriever Gryffindor falls for a Black Cat Slytherin. Hadn't this all happened before?

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of character death,

A/N: Soooo, I'm back in work after having 10 days of annual leave :'( I will be posting every other day instead of every day! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think! xxx

Chapter One

It wasn’t like you hated Harry Potter, because you really didn’t but you just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Your dad had always taught you to be kind to people despite their blood status or Hogwarts house. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you tried to keep an open mind but Potter was simply infuriating.

He didn’t deserve to just be put on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in first year, after spending 5 minutes on a broom. And, you definitely wouldn’t admit that he was a pretty good player. Your infuriation only increased in second year when he emerged bloody and dirty from the Chamber of Secrets. If that had been anyone else, they would have been expelled, Potter didn’t even get points taken from him, in fact he was awarded a special service to the school!

In third year, you had to watch your Uncle love Potter more than he loved you, as they bonded over Potter’s mum and dad. The boy had stumbled his way through the Triwizard Tournament, getting favouritism at every turn, somehow beating students who were intellectually better than him. The tournament had come to a sticky end when he reappeared from the maze, clutching Cedric’s dead body and babbling about Voldemort being back.

In fifth year, oh in fifth year, for the first time in your life, you were grateful for Potter. Grateful that your Uncle wasn’t alone as he quietly slipped through the veil.

The woods were silent as you and your dad foraged in the clearing for potion ingredients. You were a perfectionist so you would be damned if you lost marks because your ingredients were old and shit. Besides, the silence seemed to work wonders for your dad.

“I’m worried for you, dad.”

He scoffed as he put some ingredients into your basket, “why in the world would you be worried for me?”

You bit your lip as the worry swirled in your stomach, “the Defence Against the Dark Arts position is cursed,” you tried not to think about what had befallen the previous Professors. Snape had left the school the year before and your dad had explained to you that the old potions master was coming back so he’d been asked to fill the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“I don’t want what happened to Uncle Sirius happen to you.”

“Oh, my little star,” he pulled you into a hug, completely encasing you in his arms, “nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Love you, dad.”

“I love you too,” he kissed your forehead, “try to be nice to Harry Potter, this year yeah?”

You grumbled into his chest, “I’m not horrible to him or anything but he just infuriates me so much!”

Regulus snorted with a laugh, “yeah, I know the feeling.”

You cursed beneath your breath as the wheel of your suitcase got stuck. Again. It brought you to a grinding halt.

“Hey, Y/N!” you heard Potter before you saw him as he bent down to unstick the wheel. He was always so kind to you, despite your infuriation with him.

“Thanks Potter,” you went to turn away, but you saw how sad his eyes were, despite his smile, “I appreciate that Sirius wasn’t alone.”

Potter nodded as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “how are you doing with that by the way?”

You shrugged, “didn’t really know him.”

Potter scratched the back of his neck and it wasn’t hard to miss the guilt that spread across his face. You could see Granger and Weasley lingering behind him, “see you later, Potter,” you weren’t in the mood to bond over dead loved ones.

Draco waved at you as you pulled open the compartment door and sat between Blaise and Theo, “saw you talking to Potty,” he commented making you laugh.

“Don’t call him that. And, is this the part where you order me not to talk to him?”

Draco scowled at you, “I don’t care who you talk to, Y/N. Just leave me out of it.”

“Deal,” you grinned.

You spent the first hour sharing food with your friends, listening to Enzo’s stories about his summer in Italy. No one asked about your summer, to outsiders it might have looked like they were being rude but you knew they didn’t want to cause you unnecessary pain. You loved them for that.

Pansy looked up from where she was painting her nails, “isn’t your dad teaching Defence this year?” when you nodded, she smirked, “your dad’s hot.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“Come on! We’ve all seen the photograph of you and him that you put on your bedside. He’s sexy.”

“I agree,” Blaise spoke up, grinning at you, “Regulus Black is a dilf.”

You gagged dramatically, “both of you can keep your filthy mitts off my dad!”

The teasing continued until an eagle owl flew in through the open window looking bedraggled from the earlier rain. It landed on your lap and you took the note from its beak. Sparing a glance at the others, you broke the seal and read the letter, getting worried with every word.

“Mattheo’s not coming back this year,” you said as you passed the letter to Theo.

“Did you see him at yours over the summer?” Blaise asked. Voldemort had been taking up residence in the Malfoy Manor.

Draco shrugged, “when he wasn’t shut up in the guest room,” he glanced at you, “I’m surprised I didn’t see you over the summer.”

“My dad fell out of favour just before I was born,” ever since you were little you’d lived in a cute little house in a valley, by a lake.

But when Voldemort had returned a couple of years prior Regulus had moved you back to his mother’s house. It was unplottable on a map and had various enchantments to deter intruders though your dad still had to use Polyjuice Potion each time he left the house. Maybe Dumbledore has figured that he’d be safer at Hogwarts.

The rest of the journey was sobering as you all constructed a reply back to your friend, hoping he was alright. As the train reached the platform, Pansy outstretched her hand to Draco who stayed seated while the rest of you got up. He told the rest of you to go in ahead and he’d catch up.

You turned to Pansy as you got onto the platform, “you know, you can do a lot better than him right?” she’d had a crush on Draco for years.

“Trust me, I know that now. But, he really is the safest option right now.”

Draco quickly caught up to you while you were waiting to go into The Great Hall, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed you in. As you got to the Slytherin table, Pansy pouted as she looked up at the teacher’s table.

“I can’t see your gorgeous dad because Theodore is in the way!”

“I’m not encouraging your sick crush,” Theo laughed as he turned to wink at you.

“Thanks, Theo,” you giggled.

Soon enough, Dumbledore introduced the new Professors, Horace Slughorn and your dad, “there he is,” Pansy hissed in your ear over all the applause, you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Halfway through dinner, Potter walked in holding a bloody rag to his face as he sat down with his friends.

You turned to Draco, “what the fuck did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“You’re the only person who would,” you scoffed as you watched the boy mop at his face with an already bloodied rag. You grabbed a wad of tissues from your bag and walked over, “Potter, here,” you all but pushed the tissues into his hands.

“Y/N, thanks!” he grinned, even though it split his lip open, blood immediately running down his chin.

“Don’t get it twisted, didn’t want to watch you make a scene,” you spun on your heel and walked back across the hall, missing the way that Potter watched you with a dazed expression.

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

Taglist: @hiireadstuff

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Don't worry they'll find out who each other are evey soon 😈 NEXT CHAPTER IS THE MEETING!!

Part two ← Part three → Part four

Summary: Charlie remembers something from her past about an angel boy. (M/N) has another dream about someone who looks just like his father, the devil.

Warnings: Weird layout, Lilith, probably spelling mistakes, idk anything else

It had been quite a bit since her last meeting with the angels and honestly? Nothing was better. I mean there was Sir Pentious and now her father. But that was it.

She had forgotten about the sightings of the angel outside the meeting room until she kept dreaming about it. The angel that looked so much like her mother.

It made her sad really to think about it. She missed her mother dearly. Her leaving put out the barely lit flame that was melting their family together.

She dreamed about the angel, and on closer inspection, it was a boy. During these dreams she could really see him more, had little ducks and trees embroidered into his robe. The tree had an apple dangling on a thin branch.

She felt like she recognized him. But she couldn't place it anywhere.

Except... From a picture she saw decades ago when she was little...

"𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺?" 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴. "��𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴?"

𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 "𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?" 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 a 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺.. Who had 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴...

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴...

"𝘖𝘩 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? 𝘗𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺! 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸! 𝘈𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴!"

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.. 𝘓𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴..

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴

ϐׁᥣׁׅ֪ᨵׁׅׅ݊ꪀժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ݊hׁׅ֮ɑׁׅꪱׁׁׁׅׅׅꭈׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ɑׁׁׅׅ᥎ׁׅꫀׁׅܻ݊݊ꪀժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ݊ꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻ݊ᨮׁׅ֮ꫀׁׅܻׅ݊꯱

Wait. How the hell would her dad know this guy? I mean yeah her father was once a heavenly being but he looked young. Very young.

Ugh. Dead ends were all she had seemed to see for months.

"Char! Char?" Shit, the very man himself. Her father.

"Oh, yeah dad?" She said, stiffly. Turning around the face the shorter man, plastering a smile onto her face. He places a hand onto her shoulder "goodluck yeah?"

She nodded at him, pulling him in a hug "thanks dad. I'll convince them I swear!"

..............................................................................................

Here he was again. His stupid dream. The same sequence. The same pattern. He'd had these dreams ever since he could remember. They weren't as bad as when he was little but recently had been springing up again.

But it was different. This time he wandered mindlessly, but he could control it slightly. He could choose where to look. He looked down and saw a small pair of feet, covered in dirt as they stepped on the fresh grass.

He also saw a woman in the distance, she was not dressed but that was the least of his concern. She was sitting and talking to someone. His father? Looked just like him. But why would he be talking to a human? His father was always strict on the no-talking-to-the-humans rule.

It couldn't be. Could it? That man had to be the devil. Holy shit.

He desperately tried to turn and walk away but his feet brought him in front of the man.

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱! There you are! We've been looking for you! Your mother was worried sick!" the man said, he noticed the woman has dried tears on her face, her eyelids puffy... The eyelids held a pair of pretty lavender eyes.

He didn't have a Mother. Did he? His father told him that he was shaped by God himself. As a gift to Michael.

The woman held out a hand as she encouraged him to sit with her. He couldn't reach the tip of the rock however, he was short, strange..he was always a rather tall angel. He was the height of a small child.

He tried to lean forward and grab the hand but the dream faded. The colours swirled and noises went wild. Until he could hear a woman and man's heartbroken cry before waking up.

"(M/N)!? Wake up! Why are you crying!?" That voice, although his eyes where still closed he could tell it was Emily.

She and he had weekly sleepovers, what usually happened was he'd stay awake all night so these dreams wouldn't happen. But she had made him watch these movies she found out about from new 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴, called Star Wars. She made him watch the whole series so he had fallen asleep around the fourth movie.

His eyes snapped open, sitting up quickly "No no I'm okay. Just a bad dream. It's normal" he answered softly, pulling some hair out of her face tenderly. "You sure?.. Wanna talk about it?" She asked, he could tell she was worried, her heart was too big for her body sometimes. "Well what time is it?" He rubbed his eyes, stretching

"7:53am"

"Okay then" he said, he then told her about all the dreams and the one he had just had, her jaw was open before she gasped "oh my.. Wow. You have to tell someone! Sera? Your father?" She smiled "these aren't normal. I mean you've never even been to earth!"

"No no no no. I'm not telling them. They'll think there's something wrong with me. That I'm mad."

"Still... " Emily stared, "Ems I'm fine just drop it and get ready for the meeting thing, you're helping Sera right?"

"Mhm!" She nodded, "You're still coming right? Pleeeaaseee!"

"Don't worry I'll be there, so the devil's really being let up here huh? What are they thinking?" He rolled his eyes, his uncle would be allowed into the heavenly gateways in less than a few hours.

"No! It's his daughter! She looks nice I think"

"You're too trusting of people Em, they're monsters. They're in hell for a reason" she softly hit his sleeve, "hush! Surely some of them are good? Some are hell born after all. They didn't do anything to be there"

"Whatever you say" he stood up, brushing through his hair with his hands, before fixing the bedding and looking back at her, who was layed on a sleeping bag, drowned in blankets "why do you hate them so much?"

"That... 𝘏𝘦 betrayed my father. 𝘏𝘦 betrayed God himself. He did so much harm and is basically getting away with it. My poor father was left in the dark by 𝘩𝘪𝘮. His 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳." He sighed "now come on. Let's get you ready"

Emily bit her lip, getting up and following him to the bathroom, making herself presentable for the meeting. She was so excited. Hopefully Sera will be nicer to the devil's child. Maybe the demon would get her ideas through.

Hopefully.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire @stealing-kneecaps @paastaboi @1yyyan @enjisthings

[yuri-is-online]

(Some more bread crumbs for the Aceyuu birdies) Ace enters Ramshackle, where everyone is already gathered in the guestroom, Yuu's in the middle of talking about something when he walks in. Yuu: And I mean, I guess I feel a little guilty about it, but I'd say the one I miss the most back home is Toby!

Ace bluescreening, internally he's asking: WHO TF IS TOBY?!

Epel: Well you did say he was super affectionate with ya, Yuu

Yuu: Haha, exactly! It would be soooo annoying sometimes I'd enter a room and suddenly he's ontop of me, just whining and licking everywhere until I wrestled him of off me!

Ace shaking: Am I having a stroke? Is this what a stoke feels like? I can't feel my legs and I'm blacking out man.

Yuu, sighing defeated: Aw, but then he'd look at me with those big sad brown eyes and I end up letting him do it all over again.

Deuce, laughing: Who knew you had a weakness for puppydog eyes

Ace: EXCUSE ME?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT'S ALL YOU GOTTA SAY?! YUU! I EXPECTED MORE OF A BACKBONE FROM YOU! WHY'RE YOU LETTING HIM GET AWAY WITH THAT KINDA STUFF?!

Yuu, beweildered, genuinely didn't realise Ace had arrived: Who? You mean let Toby...the boxer?

Ace, momentarily doing the quick maths about his chances against a boxer: I don't care what his job is, you can't be letting guys do stuff like that to you! I don't care how good looking you think they are!

At this point, the boys begin cracking up a little, which only pisses Ace more. Even Yuu looks like their trying so hard not to laugh at him, their eyes a mix of pity and adoration (he hopes that's what he's seeing, at least) before they explain; Toby the boxer, as in the boxer breed of dog. Yuu was talking about their family pet(s) back home. Ace tries to cover for himself, saying how he totally knew that but Yuu isn't even listning to his excuses anymore because now it's Grim throwing a tantrum about how could you miss a mangey mutt when you have the Great Grim sitting on your lap?! But don't worry Ace, the guys will make sure nobody forgets this little outburst.

OR something, after we had to put our dog down a few years ago, my dad's finally in a place where he's looking for a new one so I'm just thinking about dogs now uwu

This ask is old but I hope everything went well with the search, it was my roommate's dog's birthday today so this ask as been on my mind for a hot second. Toby is such a cute name for a boxer it's literally perfect.

Listen, this is all your fault, that's going to be Ace's stance on this. If you weren't such a headache to look after, then he never would have thought that you would let someone do something like that to you and he would have automatically known it was a dog. Really now what do you take him for?

"Jealous." You're smiling as if you find the thought amusing. "It sounded like you were jelous."

"Oh please," you have him dead to rights, but he's not going to say that out loud "only Grim would get fussy about you having a dog." Because really he's not jealous of the dog. If anything he thinks it's cute, so the prefect is an animal person; just like a proper beast tamer, look at you!

No what makes him jealous is the thought he can't give you any of that back no matter how much he wants to. His family doesn't have any pets, but from the way his classmates talk about them he knows that's not a bond you can really just replace. And he wouldn't want to, Ace wants what you have to be unique to the two of you and not a replacement for what came before.

Guess that means he'll have to learn about how to take care of a dog huh. He can do that... just not when the guys are around they're already giving him a hard enough time.

[devilishchaos]

BABYYY drop the daddy Ruben fic, don't be shy <3

Calls | Dad!Rúben Dias imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Rúben goes on a business trip. Me and our son George are sad he is away, so we face time him.

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"

Word Count: 1 347 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

While begging my husband to go on this 3 day business trip, I thought to myself "What can happen in the span of 3 days, right?"  Well, a lot. 

I'm currently 27 weeks pregnant with twins and have a year and a half year old baby-toddler that needs my attention 24/7. Not that I am complaining but the pregnancy alone is being hard on me and my beautiful son throwing constant tantrums about missing his dad doesn't help my situation. Now, I was usually the preferred parent, but George had the tendency to not want to eat and nap while Rúben was away.

Today was going to be a long and hard day for me, I just knew it. I woke up from my nap at 7:00 am, got ready and headed to wake George up because I had an appointment with my OBGYN in an hour and had no one to look after him while I was gone, so I had to take him with me. 

It was a battle but I somehow managed to get him ready for the day, made it to my appointment safely and on time and both of us were back in the coziness of our household before we knew it. 

The moment we stepped through the door - the nausea hit me. And my head started spinning. I somehow made it to the bedroom and laid down on the bed and tried to take deep breaths in hopes for it to go away faster. I closed your eyes for a second and out of nowhere a loud cry pierced the silence. 

With eyes wide open, all my senses on alert, I sat up in the bed and looked at the door to see George standing there, tears falling from his eyes and his tiny hands holding his favorite stuffed animal close to his chest. 

"What happened baby? Are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hands in his direction. 

"Dada.." he managed to say in between wheezing. 

I gave him a sad knowing look. Ever since he was born he was a mama's boy but ever since I got pregnant again he looked up to Rúben more and more, and wanted to do everything that he was doing whether it was directed towards me or other people. And Rúben was the happiest person on earth, soaking in every moment because he knew that it could be taken away from him just as fast as it came. 

"You miss daddy, huh bud?" I softly asked as I helped him get up on the bed to join me. 

He nodded, the movement making his tiny curls shake a little. 

"How about we call him? Would that make you feel better?" 

"Yeah.." George mumbled, while wiping his eyes.

I was already reaching for my phone before I got an answer from him. Since Rúben is in New York and we are in Manchester there is a 5 hour time difference, but it was now way after noon in Manchester and knowing Rúben, he had been awake for some time, so that's why I suggested calling him. Okay and maybe because I miss him too and want to talk to him, but that's another topic. 

I dialed his contact and gave George the phone. After two rings I saw Rúben's gorgeous face and he saw a head full of curls and two big dark eyes watching closely the screen, since George held the phone so close to him. 

"Hey, gorg-" your husband started "-oh, hello big man. What are you doing with mama's phone?" you saw him smiling widly. 

"Dada, miss you." George said and started crying again. 

"Oh, no. Don't cry buddy. I miss you so much too." 

"Home." 

"I'm coming home tomorrow, baby and I'm not going anywhere after that, okay?" Rúben asked as a sad smile made its way on his face. 

"Home now?" George asked as he tilted his head slightly the exact same way Rúben does and it made your heart throb. 

"I wish buddy, but I have one more thing to do and then I promise I'm gonna catch the first flight back home and I'm coming straight to you. But I need you to do something for me, okay. You have to eat lunch and dinner, and you have to go to sleep when mommy says. Can you do that for me? That way I'm going to come home faster. Do we have a deal, G?" Rúben asked, slightly raising his eyebrows. 

"A deal.." his son responded while rubbing his eye "Now play." 

"Okay, you can go and play now. Loves you." your husband said as he leaned into the camera and kissed it, your guys's little tradition that now George did too. 

"Loves you." George said cutely and kissed your front camera. He gave you the phone and ran out of your bedroom and into his playroom. 

I took the phone and positioned it against my big water bottle in front of me as I greeted my hansome husband "Hi, meu amor." 

"Hey, mama. How are you holding up? Big man giving you a hard time?" Rúben asked you giving you sad eyes. 

"He just misses you." I exhaled "Nothing changed after the call yesterday, we're going to see what happens today. I miss you too, tho. We miss you too." I simply explained rubbing my round belly.  

"I'm sorry babe. I miss all of you. Can't wait to be back home. I'm never leaving again." he shook his head as to make it more believable.

"Rúben, we talked about this. What you're doing right now is for your career and for us. So that you can take more time off while the twins come, just as you did when we welcomed George. Don't feel guilty, you're not doing anything wrong, babe. We'll get through this. We have to. In fact it's almost over." I smiled at him trying to lighten the mood. 

"This is why I made you my wife. Eu te amo muito." Rúben said looking lovingly at the screen in front of him. 

"I love you more." 

"Period." he said while snapping his fingers, which made both of you to start giggling.

"Stop. I'm gonna pee my pants!" I said in between laughing. 

"Okay, okay. So how did the appointment go? Everything alright?" Rúben's face went completely serious in a spare of seconds. 

"Yes. Babies are doing just fine." I said and took a breathing break "I however, am struggling. Babe, I'm 27 weeks into this pregnancy and do you know what my doctor told me? That I'm measuring full term compared to a singleton pregnancy. That's very overwhelming considering that I hopefully have 8 or 9, 10 weeks left in the absolute ideal case scenario. And technically I am still 6 months pregnant. At the very end of my 6th month. Can you believe this?" I looked at him with a questioning face. 

Rúben's eyes went wide "Wow." 

"Wow indeed. I mean..that's what I get for having children with a freaking giant, I guess." 

"Hey. You looooove this giant. And the babies that you both made." Rúben winked at me, eyes going soft and a smile appearing on his lips "Everything will be okay. Just try not to overwork yourself. And no, I'm not saying don't do nothing and just lay in bed all day. But you are very pregnant and are taking care of a fussy baby-toddler. Please, just take it easy while I'm away. When I come back it will be different." 

"I'm gonna try my best. Now I have to go to make a snack because I'm starving and you have work to do. So talk to you later. You also take it easy, okay." I lovingly smiled at him, damn I can't wait for it to be tomorrow already. 

"Alright, talk to you later. Loves you." 

"Loves you." both of us said at the same time, smiling at each other, leaning in and kissing the front cameras on our phones, sharing a virtual kiss and ending the call.

[narcolini]

white room - pt. 2

johnny davis x gn!reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 4.3k words, 2 of ? part one here a/n: tw for reader talking about their dad being dead (sorry pops) & thankyou darling kay (hausofmamadas) for the gif <3

Your idea of nice and his idea of nice are two whole different things. Not to say it isn’t a nice place, you know, it’s cute, but it isn’t nice nice, in the fancy kind of way. Which is probably your own fault for letting so many hotshot advertisement guys take you out and getting you used to it—and that’s no good at all, cause all they wanna do is impress you into sleeping with one of them, and all Johnny wants to do is eat pizza by the slice. Apparently.

He says “they got the good stuff here” as he holds the door open and by the time you’re sitting with a pie in front of you, yeah, you gotta say, it’s a Hell of a piece. So cheesy you gotta stretch your whole arm up to get it away from the plate, and when Johnny does it, you hook a finger around the stringy bit and pull it right into your mouth. Half thieving, half flirting. You figure he won’t mind so much about that, considering how good you’re looking for him, and he don’t. He’s even smiling as you chew it up. 

“You said you work in an office?” he asks, before taking a big bite of that piece you stole from. Washing it down with a Dr Pepper too, cause this place is too family friendly for anything other than a good old fashioned soda pop. 

“Mhmm. One that does them ads in the paper and on leaflets and stuff.”

“You write ‘em?”

“I wish,” you drag out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes all the way into the back of your head. “I sit in meetings and take notes, then I sit at my desk and I type up the notes. Then I go take it to my boss and he says, ‘thanks, doll, ‘nother meeting at twelve’. Then it all goes fuckin’ round again.”

He snorts, cause you’re funny and he sees it, not like those other guys. “You don’t like it then?”

“Oh, I like anything that pays me to do nothin,” you say. “The other week, they gave me overtime to sit and watch the phone incase some big important call came through. Well, that thing didn’t ring once, not from the moment I sat down, to the second I got up. Easiest buck I ever made.”

He blows out again, laughing over the neck of his pop, and you put the corner of your own slice into your mouth. You shouldn’t talk while you’re chewing, and you don’t ever do it, promise, but you’re nearly done with the eating part when you ask him, “And what d’you do?”

Well, you’d’ve thought you’d asked him the answer to the universe from the way he’s thinking about it. You wait for him and he takes another drink, then another bite, and then he itches his jaw with the end of his thumb, though no-one ever gets no itchy jaw like that, and says, “I drive trucks.”

“Yeah? I figured riding bikes was your job.”

Johnny don’t really say nothin to that, which he does a lot you’re finding. Thinks a sort of a look and a noise like he’s saying something is a fine enough answer for anything that he doesn’t really wanna answer. Like a whole third of your conversation so far has been just that—you talking and him listening, sure, he’s good at that part, but then he hums or something and it’s right back to you talking again. 

Must be how he likes it though, cause he ain’t stopped you yet and you could talk for the whole world if they wanted you to.

“What’s your deal?” you ask, after watching him eat an entire slice without saying a thing. 

“My deal?”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta have a deal?”

“Everyone’s got a deal.” You look at him, really look at him, take all the lifelines and scars in like you never put your eyes on him before. Find yourself staring at his hands too, at the tan line there, or the missing tan, you guess, right there on his ring finger. The rest of him’s done up in that way like he’s been out in the sun too much, all except for that one little bit. The shape of a thing that’s not there no more. “You married?” 

You wanna know, and you’re not afraid of asking about it, cause if he is this is gonna be a real easy fix. You out the door, him taking the bill. 

He sighs, long and slow, then wipes his mouth with the screwed up napkin from next to him. “Divorced,” he says.

“Kids?”

“Two girls.” Which explains the pizza place. He don’t know what nice is anymore, unless you can take a kid there and make them real happy about it.

“Do they like you?” 

One of his little eyebrows tweaks up at that, then sinks again into a mean frown that you’d hate to be on the real end of—cause he don’t mean it now, he’s just prickly about talking about it. You can tell. And who can blame him, you’re asking a lot of questions in the same sort of way that your mother hates so much. No manners, she says, no patience neither.

“Yeah,” he tells you, “they like me.” Then his hand and that napkin comes waving over the table at you. “What—what is this?”

You shrug, not hiding nothin. “Just getting a look at you. Figuring you out.”

He sniffs. Nods. “You gonna go and type all this shit up later?”

You’re thinking he means it like a dig, like you should feel some type of way about the sort of person he’s accusing you of being, but it’s got you smiling still. Cause he’s talking now and with real character too. “I might do. Been a while since I heard something really worth typing up.”

“And what’s yours,” he grumbles, pissier than usual, “what’s your deal that everyone’s gotta have?”

“Dead Pops,” you tell him, and you say it so quick that all the attitude drops right off of him. 

His head shakes—just the one time. “What’s that mean?”

“Well it means he’s six feet under, Johnny.”

“No—why’s that…you didn’t like your old man or something?”

“I liked him fine. Just never saw him enough and then he went and died before I could make it up to him.”

For some reason, he nods like he gets the feeling, but his eyes are all of a sudden shy of looking at you, like you might be upset at him for asking in the first place. You think the noise he makes is him trying to say sorry, or passing on his condolences, but no man you ever met has had any kind of manner when it comes to being sensitive, so you figure that’s the best he can do.

“He was from round here,” you say, “that house of mine was his first, you know.”

Another nod.

“Thought coming back would help me feel like, I don’t know, like I was connected to him or something. Like it might make me feel a little less lost.”

Then his eyes are up again and he don’t look so scared of upsetting you no more. “Did it work?” he asks. “You feel better now you’re here?”

You hum a little, like you need some time to think up the answer that’s been screaming at you since you unpacked the very first box. “Nope.” You shake your head, real sure of it. “Turns out, it just makes you fuckin’ lonely, living in a dead man’s house.”

He lets out a big long breath at that, like he’d been holding it in, and you get to smell the cigarette he smoked half an hour ago, right in front of your face. “Yeah, alright,” he says, “that’s a Hell of a deal.”

You smile. “Now you’re gettin' it.”

He points at the empty bottle in front of you. “You want another one?”

On all them other dates, this is where you’d say no thanks, I’ll take a ride home and an early night, if it’s no bother to you. And every time, all those other guys would be very bothered by it, might even make you pay for your half and a cab too, but not one part of you wants to find out what Johnny’d say to all that. You don’t want another pop and you don’t wanna go home neither. For all his quiet, and his funny ways—like he don’t always look like he wants to be talking to you—you’re finding him awful good to be around.

Makes as much sense to you as it makes no sense at all, but sometimes it’s just like that. People you can be yourself with, you know. People who make you wanna be so much like yourself, that it makes you feel all crazy about it. 

So you tell him that, in a sort of a way. You say, “I’ll be honest, Johnny, I’m feeling like something a little stronger,” and he smiles real big at that.

_________

Then you’re in another bar, and it ain’t the bar you said you didn’t wanna be in, but it is a bar that’s full of Vandals still.

Well, not full, guess you could count five of them if you wanted to. Six including Johnny. And they are all hanging about in that one back corner, while you and him got a standing table somewhere in the middle, so you figure he’s not really broken his promise all the way. Just twisted it a little. Plus with the noise of the place, you can hardly make them out above the rest of it, so you set your eyes on him and forget about them. Who knows, right? This whole town could be swarming with those biker guys, but you ain’t never noticed it before cause you ain’t never noticed him before, and that’s not exactly his fault, is it? 

He’s standing real close to you too now, to the one side of you, instead of opposite like in the pizza place, and you can feel the heat coming off of him like fire. Like those big ones in your Grandpa’s house at Christmastime. All flame and soot and crackling warmth that you wanna put your hands into. 

Something about it makes you a little erratic, makes you blurt out another question with even less manners than usual. And it’s a real mood killer too, “So why’d you get divorced?” you say. 

You asked him that, you really did, and while he’s thinking about how to take it, you drink down half your beer in one big stinking gulp. If your mother could see you now? Jeez.

“You really gonna ask me that before I’ve even…?” He points to the beers, well his beer, cause yours is still in your hands like you’re scared he’ll take it from you. “C’mon,” he says.

He’s got a point, sure, but also you been here a minute and it don’t seem like it’s your fault that he hasn’t taken a drink yet. Too busy smoking one of them cigarettes again, and smirking at you like he finds your dumb mouth all kinds of charming, when he should be judging you like a real gentleman would. 

“You don’t gotta tell me,” you say, shrugging with it.

“Hm.” Another answer without answering—and this time, it kinda sorta bothers you.

He puts the smoke between his fingers, to take a long sip of his beer, and you find yourself reaching across to take it from him. Not a smoker, but you can smoke if the company does, you know. Which happens to be a lot at work, cause those office guys go like chimneys when they’re thinking, on and on and on, until the room’s full of the stuff. And then you don’t even need to have one yourself because you’re puffing it as much as they are, right, but it’s nice to feel included still.

This time, you’re only doing it to give you something to do, and give him something to look at while he thinks so much about all the things he don’t wanna tell you. Which seems to be doing the trick just fine.

“Didn’t work out,” he says, right when you think he’s over it, didn’t work out. “That’s all it is.”

You tap the ash off, feeling him stare as you take a drag and blow it away from him. “Well if your girls like you still, that must be most of the truth.”

“Nah, that’s it. That’s the whole truth, nothin’ else.”

“Alright then.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He’s getting antsy, prickly all over again. “I believe you,” you tell him, looking at him all serious like, his face right there next to yours. “Marriage is a crazy complex thing, right? I guess I always assume it takes more than ‘didn’t work’ to put it to bed, but if you say yours didn’t, then it didn’t. Who am I to know?”

He doesn’t nod or do nothin, he just squints back at you and says, “Were your parents divorced?”

You laugh, and it’s sort of rude, cause it’s right in his face. Probably felt the gust of it straight into his mouth. “There you go, treating me like a kid again,” you explain, and he frowns like he don’t get it. Funny, all that wisdom in his big old head, and he can’t seem to work out what you mean. “You figure I couldn’t be old enough to have a marriage of my own? Had to ask about my parents instead?”

And you got him, caught him with his hands all red, cause he gets fidgety with it. “Well have you?” he asks.

You pout to hide your smirk. “No.”

Then his frown is swapped clean out for a laugh, and that smile that you’re sorta growing fond of. “So, just cause I didn’t know that about you, yeah, I’m treating you like a kid, am I?”

“Yeah.” You’re leaning in real close now, shoulders touching and everything. “I would’a liked it if you thought I could’ve had a marriage, and a divorce, just like you, Johnny.”

“Ah, right. Alright.” His head dips a little, and he’s looking all over your face like he’s hungry for every word you ain’t said yet, his voice in almost a whisper. “So how was your divorce?” he asks.

“Oh, awful.” You flash your eyes big, so dramatic. “He took everything I had—and all ten of the kids.” 

He hisses with his teeth, really playing along with it. “That’s a mean fuck right there,” he says, and if you’re honest, you kinda wish you weren’t lying for a sec, cause hearing him say something like that, real ex-husband or not, it kinda does something to you. Makes you giddy in a teenage way. 

“That’s what I told him,” you say back, but you don’t sound serious no more, you’re all breathy and quiet like you’re losing your guts. “Lucky we’re both single again, huh?”

“Lucky," he says, “yeah.”

Boy, you could’ve sworn the whole place went still. Every noise fell away like you were the only two people in there.

And he’s looking at you in that way, the eye contact, you know, in that real eatable way that makes you want take him home right now, or better yet, right into the bathrooms at the back of the bar there. But that’s crazy talk. That’s really real crazy talk. That’s the kind of thing you regret when your heads pounding the next day, and you don’t remember how that tap shaped bruise got onto your asscheek, never mind wether or not you’re seeing the guy again.

So, being good about it, you move your eyes from the door to the group of guys you been ignoring this whole time, and you ask him, “So when are you gonna introduce me to your little friends?”

He goes like a statue—minus his forehead, of course, that thing scrunches up like he lost you for a minute and he’s having to really squint just to see you again. “What I gotta introduce you to them for?”

“They’re your family, ain’t they?”

He holds his hand out, and it takes you a second to realise he’s asking for the cigarette back, the one that’s nearly gone, burning away in your fingers still. You give it to him, half thinking to apologise for wasting it, but he just plops it right back into his mouth like it’s nothin. He gets one pull out of it and then smushes it, dead, into the ash tray. “S’a lot, for a second date, no? Meeting the family.”

You laugh almost. “You counting last night as the first?”

“I’m counting pizza as the first,” he says.

You can’t help it, you’re still smiling at him, and blushing a little too. “Something bout that feels like you’re cheating me outta what I deserve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” he says, all careful like, “we can count this whole night as the first, if you want, but I don’t bring first dates to the club either.”

“Fine.” He wins. “Then let’s call this one the second, whichever way you wanna look at it, and I still wanna meet ‘em.”

“Nah. Not—not today.”

For the first time in your life, you don’t feel like pushing until you get what you want. He’s still messing with the butt of that cigarette, spinning it round and round in the ashtray, so you figure he got a reason behind that skull of his, and a good one too.

Well, you’re willing to pretend like he might, anyway. 

“Okay. How about some names then? So I know who to picture when you’re telling me your stories.”

His lip quirks up. “You wanna hear my stories?”

“Oh, all of ‘em.” You nudge him, elbow to elbow, and drop your head onto your shoulder, in that real cute way that makes your hair bounce, just to look at him. “Please, Johnny?”

He lets go of the smoke with a sigh that doesn’t really mean what he wants it to mean, and crosses his arms on top of the table. “One on the lefts Corky,” he says, nodding that way. “Then Wahoo, Cal, Cockroach.”

You follow his direction, all good and quiet and listening, and put the names to the faces as best you can. Only then he stops and you have to poke him, “And that tall movie star on the end?”

He waits like he’s thinking about it. “That’s Benny.”

“Just Benny?”

“Yeah. Just Benny.”

But that don’t make no sense to you, cause all these guys are never just anyone, unless they’re someone important, you know, everybody’s got something in a club like that. “He don’t got some funny name too?” you ask, and Johnny shakes his head. “Why not?”

“Cause he don’t need nothin—he’s just, some people are just…” He shrugs, screwing his brows a little. “He’s just Benny.” 

“And you’re just Johnny.”

Who’s just humming in reply now, saying yeah without using his words cause he don’t need to, and you keep letting him be about it.

“Well,” you start, now that neither of you are looking at those Vandals no more, “what name would you give me?” 

He doesn’t even try. “I dunno,” he says. 

“C’mon, Johnny. I know you know, if you thought about it, you probably named all those guys.” Minus Benny. Just Benny.  

He groans like you’re really troubling him by asking for it and reaches for another smoke from his pack. “Let’s see,” he says. Now he’s thinking. “I guess, something short.” The lighter flashes by his chin then goes away again in a snap. “Something like Lips.” 

First time he’s left you speechless. Really cotton mouthed and speechless. “Lips?” you repeat, and you hate to say it, but you’re almost squeaking. Lips?

“Mhmm.”

“Why’s that?” you ask him, more serious now than you have been this whole time, so close that you could burn your nose on the end of his cigarette. “And don’t say cause they look nice.”

“Even if it’s true?”

You laugh like you can’t believe it. “I don’t care if it’s true, that’s not the answer.”

This guy, he has the nerve to smirk like he’s winning, and he shouldn’t be doing none of that until he can give you a real good reason. “Alright.” He lifts his shoulders a little, all innocent like, with the smoke snaking up between you. “Then it’s cause you, you know, you…”

“Yeah?” You nod, pulling it out of him. “Go on.”

“You like to talk a little, you know.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yeah, you do.”

And you’re not offended but it keeps going like you are, with a laugh stuck behind your teeth. “Always going on, am I?”

He smiles, easy like he’s not even got to try no more. “Got some real lips on you,” he says. 

You snort, big—so attractive, puffing it out your nose like that—and set your head on your hand. Elbow going right into some sticky spill of God knows what, too. “I don’t know if I hate it, or love it,” you tell him. “Feels like an insult and a compliment all in one.”

He points with his smoking finger, but not much cause he knows how close you are, just like you know how close he is. So aware of it, it’s making you breathe funny. “That’s how you know you got a name,” he says. “Half the guys, yeah, they hate what they get called, but no-one ever says anything about it.”

“Well we know I will,” you tell him, and then you’re both laughing. Real close, real warm, laughing like you’ve known each other years, not days—and Hell, it ain’t even that. You guys only just hit the twenty-four hour mark. It may be the most successful date-slash-dates that you’ve ever had, and it’s not even over yet. You don’t even have the guys full name or number.

“Your beer’s going warm, you know.”

Oh. You haven’t even touched it, or thought about touching it, since you started that whole thing about his divorce. But his own bottle goes up and back, then down again, empty, all while you’re watching him do it. So you push him yours after, letting him finish that one too. 

“You better get me a new one, then,” you say, while his lips are on the end still, cause you haven’t had enough of him yet. “Unless you wanna take me home?”

He stops for a second, half-way about to leave with a money clip already in his hand, just to look at you with a sort of smirk, sort of curious thing in his eye. Then he says, all low and cool with it, “That code for somethin?”

Well, you feel like you made a monster. He’s starting to get all sorts of familiar and now you’re him, you’re the wolf in that damn bar. 

“No,” you say, sounding like the liar that you sorta feel like you are, “it’s whatever. I didn’t say you’d be coming in now, did I?”

He laughs out his nose and nods like you said everything he wanted to hear, though really, you’ve got no idea what he wants from you. No other man you’ve ever said that to has cared to ask what you mean by it, even if you wanted it to be something or not, they always assumed it was meant the way they wanted it to mean, but not Johnny. Johnny looked more scared by the idea than he looked excited. Like he thought he was about to have to let you down all gentle like, slow and careful so your feelings didn’t get hurt. 

“I’ll get us some more,” he says, leaving for real that time, and his hand’s on your back until he’s too far away for his fingers to reach. 

It’s only when he’s gone that you figure he must’ve told all those guys to ignore you and him, just like you’d decided to ignore them, cause the second he’s gone they’re looking right over at you. Wahoo, Corky, all of them, but not that Benny. He either don’t care or hasn’t noticed, and for some reason or another, that makes you like him the most. Only one of them that can keep his eyes on his own nose and outta your business. The rest are bold enough to stare like you don’t see them, even talking and laughing the way boys do when the teacher goes for more chalk.

You try not to care but it’s starting to really itch. You’re rubbing your arms like they’re crawling all over you. 

“Here."

And Thank God he’s back. You take the beer and drink it like you’ve had nothing but sand in your mouth for days, which makes Johnny smile like you’re crazy, but you keep going. “That family of yours got no manners,” you tell him afterwards.

He doesn’t even look. “Yeah, yeah they’re like that,” is all he says about it. What a hero, right? He takes a sip of his own drink then wipes his lips dry with the back of his hand, and he catches you staring at him, but he says nothin about that neither. “You doing anything on Friday?” he asks.

“No.” Then you’re smiling and forgetting all about the rabble in the back. “Well, I wasn't until right now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He nods. That’s exactly what he’s getting at. Seems like he’s thinking to take up your whole calendar, one day at a time, and you’re not feeling like doing a damn thing about it. Go figure.

_____

part three >>>>>

tagging: @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas @hoodeddreams13 @businesscalamity @literally-lani

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Tattoo

Written for @jilymicrofics using August prompt no. 26

James and Lily react very differently to teenage Harry's new body art!

890 words, rated T (though I'm being very cautious there, it's probably really Gen)

Read below, or on AO3

“Harry James Potter!” Lily Potter stopped dead in the doorway to her seventeen year old son’s bedroom. “What the hell is that?”

Harry scrabbled into the t-shirt he’d just snagged from his wardrobe and spun around to face his mother. “What is what?” he asked, brows pinched in a convincing imitation of confusion.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Harry!” Lily replied sharply. “I know what I saw.”

Quick as a flash, Harry shifted gears. “Then why are you asking?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t cut the attitude, we’re going to have a serious problem here.”

“Actually, the problem is that you didn’t knock before barging into my room,” Harry shrugged. “Perhaps we ought to discuss your lack of respect for my privacy?”

“That is NOT the point, Harry!” Lily struggled to keep her temper under control. “We need to talk about this.” 

“No, we don’t,” Harry told her, flatly. “I’m of age now. It’s none of your business.”

“I think you’ll find it’s very much my business while you live under my roof!”

“Really? What happened to ‘my body, my rules’?” countered Harry.

“Harry, that is enough!” she snapped back.

Unsurprisingly, the rising volume of their discussion drew James from his study. “What’s going on?” he enquired. 

“Your son,” she told him, “has got himself a tattoo!”

James’s eyes widened. “Have you really? What did you get? Where is it?” 

“James!” Lily admonished him, though she was silently cursing herself for not anticipating his response.

James’s hazel eyes radiated innocence. “What? I’m only showing a fatherly interest!” He almost managed not to smile as gestured towards Harry. “Well, come on then - show me!”

With a sly grin at his mother, Harry slipped the t-shirt off again and turned around, displaying an intricate line drawing of a dragon that twisted down his left shoulder blade. “It’s a Hungarian Horntail.”

“Oh Harry,” she sighed. “What on earth possessed you?”

Harry looked a bit sheepish. “Erm… Ginny said she thought it would look good.”

“Ginny said…” Lily paused as she tried to wrap her head around this new bombshell. “Harry, you went and got a tattoo because a girl told you to? Of all the idiotic, irresponsible…. James, help me out here!”

“I’m hardly in any position to criticise, am I?” laughed James, lifting his shirt to flash the tattoo that sprawled across his ribs - a bouquet of lilies entwined around their wedding date, just above Harry’s name and his date of birth.

“That’s different!” spluttered Lily. “That means something. You didn’t get it on a whim because a girl said so!”

“No,” he conceded. “But I got the first one on a whim because me and my mates got pissed one night and thought it would be a laugh, which is arguably worse.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, ever eager for stories of his father’s juvenile misbehaviour. “Really? You never told me that.”

“Yeah. The one on my arm,” James explained, referring to the words Mischief Managed that wrapped around his bicep, bordered by a trail of paw and hoof prints. “I was the same age as you are now. Me, Sirius, Remus and Peter all got the same one. Your Nanna hit the roof when she saw it.”

“I can understand why,” muttered Lily.

“I seem to remember you telling me it was sexy the first time you saw it.” James’s lips twitched with amusement and Lily felt her cheeks colour at the memory of exactly what had happened immediately after her then-boyfriend had showed her his new tattoo.

Harry, as sharp as ever, did not miss the double standard. “So you like Dad’s tattoos, but there’s something wrong with mine? You know how ridiculous that is, right?”

Lily was forced to concede that he had a point. “I’m sorry, darling,” she sighed. “It’s just that you’ll always be my baby boy, and I want to protect you. I hate to think of you doing something you’ll regret.”

“But I don’t regret it!” Harry replied, hotly. “How do you know that I ever will?”

Lily held up her hands, placating him. “I don’t. And I don’t think your father has ever regretted any of his.“ 

“Nope,” James confirmed. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Harry hauled his t-shirt back on, clearly frustrated. “I really love it, you know. The dragon was Ginny’s idea, but I’ve wanted a tattoo for ages. I didn’t get it on a whim.”

“Harry, I think you’re perfect just as you are,” she explained, “and the idea of you changing anything about yourself feels uncomfortable to me. But I know that you’re old enough to make your own choices, and despite the impression I just gave you, I do respect that.”

Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Thanks, Mum.”

“For what it’s worth, I do think that it’s a beautiful drawing.” In lieu of an olive branch, Lily held out her arms, and her son obliged her with a hug. “So. What did Ginny think?”

Pink spots formed on Harry’s cheeks. He shoved his hand through his hair, and the familiarity of the gesture, so very like his father, made Lily’s heart swell. “She… um… she liked it.” 

James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his son. “Oh, I bet she did.”

Harry flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “Dad!”

Lily laughed. “I like that girl. She has good taste.”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Two Dirty Martinis and One Olive(r)

[A continuation of Oliver with a Twist 🖤]

—————

“I just miss him so much,” you sniffle, scrolling through an album simply yet effectively titled with the olive emoji and a green heart. “Do you think he knows that I’m coming home? Or do you think that he thinks he’s getting abandoned over and over again? Oh my gosh, that’s so sad,” you lament aloud, bottom lip trembling while you stare into your cat’s soulful eyes on the dim screen.

“How much has she had to drink?” Aaron murmurs to JJ as you continue pining for your fur baby and talking Emily’s ear off across the table.

“Well, none of us really ate today, and she’s had one green tea shot and one-” The blonde grimaces as you down the rest of your glass and amends, “Make that two dirty martinis.”

You pop the singular olive swimming in the last dregs of the alcohol into your mouth before your eyes grow comically wide. “I just ate my son,” you declare, your statement accompanied by a gasp.

Aaron smooths a hand over his face to resist laughing at your antics and excuses himself to get you a glass of water. Leaning against the bar while waiting for a bartender to become available, he studies the way you talk so animatedly, emphasizing your thoughts with your hands, and the way everyone around the table has an easy smile on their faces while they listen to you. This team has always felt like family, but your presence has made them complete.

He can’t help but think of his own little family of two, and he wonders how Jack would feel about a new special friend in his dad’s life. Aaron’s seen the way you interact with children on cases, and he has no doubt that you and Jack would get along exceptionally well. Plus you have a pet? His son would be elated to have a cat to-

“What can I get for you, sir?”

He’s abruptly pulled from his daydream of the two of you coming home from a case to your two-legged and four-legged sons, the back of his neck heating up as he turns to face the bartender. Clearing his throat, he requests, “Just an ice water, please. Thank you.”

Beverage in hand, Hotch overhears the last of your statement to your best friend on his return to the table, “…would be nice to come home to a man.” Emily raises an eyebrow at him over your head sleepily nestled in the crook of her neck, and he fixes her with a look that clearly reads Don’t you dare.

She dares.

“Any man?” the brunette smugly prompts.

“There is this one guy,” you confess in what you believe to be a whisper but in reality is heard clear as day by the whole table. You let out a hum and a dreamy smile spreads across your face. “He’s perfect. At least, I think so.”

Aaron focuses intently on a bead of condensation running down the glass holding your ice water, fighting the urge to confess his love for you right here and right now in front of the team. His other option, which isn’t looking entirely unfavorable, is to place the drink on the table and flee the scene.

“But he’s so dumb,” you announce with a huff of frustration, and Hotch swears the world around him comes to a dead halt with a record scratch.

Stifling a laugh at the way the man in question’s sheepish smile has immediately melted into a frown, JJ inquires, “How so, hon?”

“I mean, what’s taking him so long?” you demand. “I’m pretty cute, I think. I’m clearly single thanks to this fuckin’ job. And I’m-” You wave your hands around in front of you before clarifying your meaning, “-putting out all the signals, y’know?”

“Well, why don’t you just ask him out, mamas?” Derek offers. Your girlfriends’ heads swivel in his direction with narrowed eyes, and he shows his palms in mock deference, mumbling a placating, “Damn, okay,” around the lip of his beer bottle.

A sigh rattles out of you as if Morgan has grievously inconvenienced you before you explain, “I can’t, dummy.”

“Why not?”

Aaron can’t wait to hear this.

Your best friend rushes to cover your mouth before you say something you’ll regret when sober while Penelope and JJ jump in to change the subject, but your muffled voice escapes through Emily’s fingers anyway. “HR says fraternization between a unit chief and their agent is a big no-no,” you elaborate, stretching out the word for emphasis. Aaron’s palm is damn near frozen now from stupidly standing there holding the glass, but his feet simply won’t move. “And trust me,” you carry on, bowling over Emily’s desperate attempts to shush you, “I wanna fraternize with that man,” you declare giddily.

Aaron clears his throat to announce his presence, hoping that the dim lighting in the bar will mask his pink-tinged cheeks. You turn to see him standing there and your face splits into a wide grin, your alcohol-addled brain seemingly not connecting that he bore witness to the entirety of your confession. “Hotch!” you cry happily. “You’re back! And you brought me a water,” you sigh, reaching for the glass.

“Figured you could use it,” he mumbles quietly, pulse racing when your fingers brush as the glass exchanges hands.

You assert, “You’re the sweetest ever,” and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The girls are studiously avoiding eye contact with him while Derek is staring at him, dumbstruck, and Spencer is quietly calculating the odds of you two confessing your feelings to each other before the night is over with a small smile on his face.

Hotch finds himself really wishing Dave hadn’t turned in early tonight. Or that he, too, had embraced being a senior member of the team and gone to bed instead of celebrating closing this case over drinks.

“Y’gonna just stand there all night?” you ask sweetly before patting the spot in the booth beside you. Aaron looks to his original seat to find that JJ and Penelope, still averting their eyes, have somehow shifted to the edge of the booth, leaving virtually no room for him to squeeze back in on their side.

Equal parts hesitant and hopeful, he slides into the space next to you feeling like a schoolboy with a raging crush when his leg tingles at the spot where the warmth of your thigh seeps through his slacks.

Oblivious to his racing pulse and thoughts, you lean your elbow against the tabletop and your cheek against your palm, looking up at him with a soft smile and a simple, “Hi there.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he murmurs back, and you gasp, “You said my name!”

“I say your name all the time,” he argues.

“Nu uh,” you protest, “it’s always Y/L/N or Agent or Agent Y/L/N.”

He hums in response, unwilling to admit that your name on his lips makes his brain a little fuzzy and his hands a little shaky.

“I like when you say my name,” you confess in a whisper, and Aaron can actually feel his heart swelling when you look at him like that, like he hung all the stars in the sky just for you.

In all honesty, if that’s what you wanted, he would defy gravity to make it happen.

“How’s Ollie doing?” he asks to change the subject, needing you to talk about something that makes you happy so he can keep seeing that beautiful smile on your face.

“Oh my gosh, so good!” you squeal excitedly. “He’s so, so smart. I taught him to sit and shake before meal time. Wanna see?”

“Of course,” Aaron smiles.

With a sly grin, you negotiate, “I’ll show you my kid if you show me yours,” and Aaron’s heart is now trying to actually escape out of his chest. “You…want to see pictures of Jack?”

“Of course,” you echo back. “How could anybody not love that little cutie? He’s got your dimples, y’know.” Your concentration shifts to your phone then, looking for the video of Oliver offering you his paw while Aaron sits there with a goofy smile on his face that has those very dimples making a rare appearance.

The next morning, armed with the logic that you’ll surely need to stave off a hangover, Aaron knocks on your hotel room door and asks you out to breakfast before your flight back home.

—————

Find the third & final part of Aaron, reader, & Oliver's story here!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[raina-at]

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

--------

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like  'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

----

Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[thebestandrealestever]

~MILES HEARTBREAK!~

reader tries to help miles navigate his feelings . warns : heavy descriptions of grief, suicidal thoughts if u squint, eating problems a lil. reader granny dead not proofread! a/n: i miss my grandmother i’m projecting eat my ass .

how much better, can i show my love for you? and say i do i do i do, i do i do i do .

miles couldn’t. he just could not. he couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t process it, he couldn’t wrap his head around it, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t move. his dad couldn’t do any of those things so how could he? how could he exist a world where his dad ceased ? i mean how selfish is that ? laughing or eating or speaking when he wasn’t there to do it with him. so there he laid, in his bed for the fourth day straight. he hadn’t eaten or even changed his clothes since it happened only time he moved was when his eyes opened and closed from being asleep to awoke. mind flooding with memories when things were good, trying to remember every time they spoke and cursing himself in his head when he failed to remember a certain conversation or outfit he wore or when they fought, his family was ruined, he cursed his father for leaving, did he have to save that kid? did he have to be so fucking empathetic and giving that he gave his life? does he even fucking know what he did? how could he exist without him ? why should he…miles mind flickered between thoughts of wanting to up there and be with his father but knowing he couldn’t give his mother another heartbreak. oh! his mother. oh he couldn’t bare to see his mom upset, he hasn’t even seen her since . he heard her sobs at night and her footsteps in the morning, always pretending to be asleep when she entered his room. he knew he was a coward for not being able to see her, he wasn’t the new man of the house. he could never be. he could never be anything without his father. so, there he laid.

you may not know right where you’re going but i do, i do, i do. and all the times you wasn’t chosen, well i’ll make it up to you.

your pov!

you were sad, your boyfriends dad was dead. you tried texting him and calling him but to no avail, he never responded. you weren’t upset, when your grandma passed you did the same thing to miles. mr. morales was kinda like your dad in a way seeing as thought you never really had one. he drove you to school, bought you food. you thought about that one time you both had a heart to heart conversation. he had comforted you at the funeral, you teared up thinking about it. you opened miles text to see a thread of blue messages, multiple im sorry texts and good morning/night ones. you move your fingers to text him again, stopping when you realized he wasn’t gonna answer . so you got up and got ready, he needed you, so you were gonna be there. you drove all the way there just to hesitate knocking, you didn’t know why you were afraid . right before you knocked the door opened, it was mrs. morales . “oh, hello mija.” he said with a sadness that brought her tone down. you looked at her face, it was dark and the slightly purple bags under her eyes seemed to pull the rest of her face down you stared for a bit before pulling her into a big hug . you mumbled “i’m so sorry. i can’t even imagine.” she sighed at your words and just hummed “i’ll be okay, i don’t know about miles though. he hasn’t left his room since. please check on him.” she said as she pulled away from the hug keeping her hands on your shoulders, you have her a reassuring smile, “okay mrs. morales.” your eyes widened as it slipped out and she looked down. fuck. could you call her that still? she just smiled and squeezed your shoulders “im going to the store, keep my mind occupied. i’ll be back soon.” she said walking away and you looked into the house for a little walking in as if you were being drawn to miles room.

all of the feelings you’re not showing, when your rivers overflowing.

you knocked on the door, when you heard no response you opened it, revealing the look of miles lying on his bed low eyed and eye bags forming, the smell of grief and pain filled the room. the person that made the world bright was so dark now, your heart pang with guilt, why couldn’t you take this away from him ? his eyes looked at the door, when he saw you he sat up but didn’t say anything his eyes filling up with tears again just at the sight of you

“i’m sorry baby.. i’m so sorry.” you said with the softest voice you could muster up. “don’t apologize, not your fault.” his low voice croaked out, you can tell it was his first time saying anything in a while. “can i s-“. “please.” his unusually low voice interrupted you, you took your stuff off and sat on the bed. “have you eaten, or showered?” you ask miles as you turn your head to hold his hand, his silence is your answer so you get up and hold out your other hand to him, “come on, you need eat and shower.” he looked at your hand then back at you, before slowly getting up to follow you. as you stood in the shower with him, the water running on both of you as you washed his back you could hear him sighing deeply and see his back falling up and down with a faster pace than before. he was crying. you tap his shoulder and he turns around, the water from the shower hiding his tears. he pulls you in for a tight hug, like it he let go would you leave too. “thank you, i love you so much.” he softly said and you just smiled “i love you miles.”

it’s the truth, swear to you. i do i do i do i do, i do. and all that you are i do.

seeing miles so down reminded you of when you were like this, broken and in desperate need of love and miles gave it to you, the least you could do was make sure he was straight. you took out his braids and washed his hair and rio must’ve came back in the house because you could smell food cooking. “have you talked to her?” you said putting on some clothes. “no, i-i don’t know how.” “you should, you have to. if it’s one thing i know it’s that you need each other right now.” he looked out his door to see his mother with her back turned to the stove. he sighed and called out to her “mami?” he said walking up behind her and she turned to him, they hugged and you smiled at the scene. you retrieved the things you needed to do miles hair, you knew he didn’t want any braids now so you were just gonna detangle and blow dry it . miles sits on a pillow on the floor between your legs as you do his hair, rio setting down 2 plates of food for you and miles as she sits down placing the one for herself on the couch arm beside her. all three of you sit there watching whatever movie was playing, comfortable silence settled upon the three of you. after miles ate he fell asleep, just as you finished and were about to wake him up you look over your shoulder to see mrs.morales asleep too. you got up to clean up, tip toeing to not step on any cracks. you put up the food and washed the dishes making sure all the doors were locked and lights turned off. you returned to the couch and tapped mrs morales arm waking her softly. “let’s get you to your bed.” you said quietly helping her up being careful not to wake miles or fully wake mrs. morales you led her to her room and she got in falling back asleep, as you were about to leave “thank you, (name)” she said sleepily and you smiled twisting the handle to open the door “of course.” you said closing her door softly and walking back to see nobody there.

my single line of stars in noon, reflection of the very moon i do, i do i do i do.

you walk into miles room seeing him sitting up on his bed, shirt off and head in his hands. “does it get easier ?” he asks with a tone that suggest he’s afraid. your face softens and you kiss your teeth thinking about your own grief “yea i think so. the worst thing that could’ve happened already happened, the only thing you can do now is grow. it doesn’t get smaller, but you do grow bigger than it.” you say sitting down beside him rubbing his back, he lets out a breath and looks into your eyes “im so thankful for you, i really need you (name).” you softly kiss his lips then cup his face to kiss his forehead. you get into the bed and he lays on top of you rubbing his face in your neck “i love you.” he says again quieter than before and you frown at feeling his tears run down your neck “i love you too, and i’ll be here. the whole way. always.”

can i show my love for you?

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

WG: hi Gunther: hi uh- sorry if i woke you up or something. i felt like calling. i don't know. WG: nah i was just… hanging. what's up? Gunther: ah uh- well. we're cutting our honeymoon short. Lilith had one of those really bad nightmares yesterday and she insists on going back with the kids. WG: seriously? it's not even been a whole week yet Gunther: it's that bad. i've never seen her this alarmed before Gunther: so uh- yeah. make sure to get Garrett from Caleb's before tomorrow night? please? she really needs the kids around. WG: yeah yeah. ahah. Bluma's gonna hate that Gunther: speaking of, i'm standing in the shore in my underwear because i want a starfish or something colorful and or shiny for said little lady. the sand feels horrible in my feet, i have to add. Gunther: how is she? WG: oh yeah. it's disgusting. WG: and she's doing excellent. Everything's excellent in fact; Bluma made a friend and Garry's first steps were right in front of me Gunther: …i'd need you to be more specific before i yell WG: i'm half joking. The house you and grandpa got includes a big freaking haunted maze, you geniuses. Gunther: what. WG: okay. I'll make a sum up. Gunther: i'd prefer all the details

WG: so are these forever or…? Caleb: oh no, nonono. well. not unless he learns or wants to control his mind controlling powers. Morgyn: if you ask me it' be fantastic to just glue those sunglasses on him WG: are you kidding? Garry's sick little powers could make us RICH Morgyn: and how exactly you plan on doing that? WG: dunno. infant robbery? i'm sure he'd love that Morgyn: my godness.

Bluma: the world has gone insane! all crazy! why'd they bring Garry back?! Bluma: not fair… and you! Jojo! Jojo why won't you sleep in the bed i made for your little body! Jojo: meow Bluma: i even gave you your own light because you've been on that basement for so long you must be scared of the dark! Jojo: mrow… Bluma: your- did your last owner let you sleep on his bed? is that why you don't like yours? Bluma: …what happened to them anyways? i saw the picture. Bluma: wish your kitty paws knew how to write… but i can't even read well either Gunther: hello my little flower Bluma: papa!!! Bluma: dad i missed you so much! so many things happened i really wanted you to see! Gunther: i know darling your uncle told me everything Bluma: all of it? Gunther: in big detail, yes. Even about your Jojo Gunther: how's he not dead? Bluma: dunno! Gunther: we need to get him checked in every way possible. The basement too, good lord. Garlic down there? Bluma: and ghosts! my kitty radio the Goth lady made spirit-y played a lot of music on it's own! Gunther: oh god Bluma: yes!! Gunther: now what are YOU so excited about Bluma: daaad!!! Gunther: …Bluma darling, there's something we need to talk about.