#but you don’t get to act like you’re suddenly jewish

[jewishbarbies]

oscar isaac wearing a star of david AFTER saying himself in an interview “I’m not jewish” and then playing multiple ethnicity and culturally jewish characters (one being a very antisemitic portrayal) is not “proof” that he’s actually jewish. if he’s converting, that’s his business, but he needs to stop pretending he’s jewish for some perceived clout. it’s fucking disgusting and y’all defending him are an embarrassment.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hello! ❤️I love your stories and was maybe wondering if you would write a Shelby Family x reader story where she is their half sibling who grew up in America. Like  Arthur Sr. Had an affair with a woman visiting from the US right around the time Finn was also conceived and maybe that woman was who their father ended up running to when he left like a year later, but not because he was in love but because she had money and he could get her drugs and stuff. And so the reader kinda grew up “seeing” Arthur sr rarely but also being raised quietly by her richer non gangster grandparents (even unofficially taking their last name instead of Shelby)while her “parents” just went off and did whatever. one day her grandparents die and even though she is almost 19 and only a few months younger than Finn she is sent all the way to England to live with the son of her grandparents friend. And who is that son of a Friend she is send to live with? Our favorite Jewish Baker Alfred (who also doesn’t know she’s a Shelby) !!! And then like Alfie kinda takes her under his wing and cares for her like her grandparents and let’s her work in the legal part of the bakery (while not telling her about his gang b/c she actually wanted a quiet nonviolent life having seen how her parents acted) then one day she’s talking to Goliath for lunch when three men come in and one says his name is Arthur Shelby and then R gets all confused. Because as far as she knows there’s only One Arthur Shelby and the man in front of him is ABSOLUTELY not him (this guys to nice and sober to be her sperm donor). So she starts arguing with him that he’s not actually Arthur Shelby and like “why would he be impersonating such a random drunk who never did anything” and and Arthur being Arthur gets kinda offended and starts arguing back with this random teenage girl (very similar to how he would argue with teenage Ada) that he is in fact Arthur Shelby “Yes I am -no you’re not -yeah I am -no your NOT…. Etc.” and they both just end up bickering and everyone is confused until like John realizes that the she may be taking about Arthur Sr and they figure it out. Idk what would happen next the older Shelby’s would probably like be pissed and ignore her for a bit but I could see Finn being curious would be the first to reach out again kinda excited to have a sibling his age who isn’t as rough as his family and they would get close and then Ada would be the next to follow excited to have a sister. And yeah, idk sorry this is long but basically it would be the Shelby’s having a half sister who ends up in Alfie’s care and only realizes she has siblings after arguing with Arthur about his own name😂😂 you don’t have to though!!❤️❤️❤️

Dear Anon,

This request was amazing, and I don't think my writing can live up to it's greatness. Thank you for entrusting it to me and for waiting forever. I really hope you enjoy it!

Lots of love & Happy New Year!

Warnings: Peaky-type themes + Happy ending

You were crushed as you lay on the worn hardwood floor of your bedroom. All your family was suddenly gone leaving you out in the world on your own. In a year you would have an impressive estate to fall back on, but as for now, it was their request to send you to England. You looked up at the floral wallpaper suddenly determined to commit it to memory, once you walked out that door this, this, this energy…. You struggled to label what exactly would be ripped from you once you walked out the door. All you knew was that everything would become real the second your feet touched the bottom of the front steps. 

The possibility, no matter how stupid, of them simply being on a long trip would become a distant dream. They would officially be dead. 

They had a family friend who had called on the phone to let you know he had arranged everything. His gruff voice made you weary. You didn't like men, but strange men you would live with, in a foreign country? Absolute no. You were very aware that they were probably murdered and if sending you to this man was their wish you knew it was because he would protect you. 

Anger was boiling under your skin overshadowing the deep grief you were experiencing. People had you packed up out of your childhood home on a boat before the dirt had been poured over their coffins. 

Over the long journey, your mind ran rampant over the finer details of your life. Your father was English, what if this was just an elaborate plot to drag you down into that life. He was an abnormally cruel man, keeping your mum sedated with drugs, and spending her money. What if he was the one to murder them? Getting his hands on you only to gain their estate money…. Your body started to spin out of control at the thought. 

Your Grandmother was a Scottish woman with a hellfire temper, seeing what was happening in the home she’d removed you. You squeezed your eyes tightly knowing she’d never be there to hold you again. 

They were good people, they taught you to be a good person despite the heartache that came from being stood up and endangered countless times by your parents. You made a promise to yourself that if things were rough, or if they were improper in any way you would leave and use the little money you saved up to find your Grandma’s sister in Glasgow. 

After what felt like an eternity, but also a very short and hazy amount of time you had arrived. You watched as black cars pulled up and a very well-dressed man got out. His employees took your suitcases from your hands and you initially flinched at the attention. 

Mr.Solomons was massive. Both physically and in personality. He came up to you and squeezed your slender frame in a crushing hug. 

“Sorry ‘bout the family, love.” He grumbled. 

“Thanks,” You said breathlessly as he squashed you. 

_____________________________________

Despite being a rather posh group of people he could tell she’d not been treated properly in her life. Jumpy, timid, and refused to make eye contact. She was bat-shit scared of the situation. 

He thought about taking her down to Arrow House. Dropping her off with her proper extended family. Thinking of the New Years' party he attend with the maids whoring themselves out, he thought it best to hold on to her a bit. Thomas was a lot of things and none she would find comfort in. Not that he was much better, but at least the beach house only kept a small staff, two maids, and one cook. All female and all well into their 60’s. 

Alfie watched as she slowly settled in after a few weeks. He tried his best to act in a predictable manner in an attempt to scare her less. She asked a million questions about what he did, he knew she wasn't stupid so he told her the lighter version of the truth. 

A mistake. 

But she eventually calmed down enough to come to dinner and question him some more about morality and ethical values. 

Give it another week and she was helping in the front bakery. She made all sorts of treats he’d not heard of before and insisted that single mothers or folks struggling didn't have to pay. He’d wanted to argue but he could still see that she was hanging on by the thread and needed a project more than a business lecture. 

She’d finally laugh with her whole belly, and tease him endlessly.  

He’d just about gotten used to her presence when everything had to get blown up. 

______________________________________________________________

You were just done telling Alfie that he smelled like a wet dog when a tall man in a funny hat came in. 

“Can I help you?” You asked in a hesitant voice. Alfie had disappeared and it was just the man and you in the back warehouse of the bakery. 

“Probably not, love. Where’s Alfie then?” There was a sharp edge in his voice that made you absolutely refuse to tell him. 

“Who’s asking.” 

“Arthur Shelby,” He said waiting for you to run and announce his presence. 

“Yeah and I’m the Virgin Mary. Try again.” You crossed your arms across your chest. This is exactly the kind of thing you were expecting. Obviously, he’d send someone to ruin what bit of happiness Alfie had given you. 

“Oi! What’s this ‘bout. That’s my fu-ck-ing name” 

“No, it’s not. Arthur Shelby is a right useless cunt that’s probably too drunk to stand at this hour. Did he send you here then?” 

“That’s- I am a man of God. Now enough of these stupid games. Go get Alfie” He cursed under his breath and you refused to be intimidated by him. 

“NO.” You said sternly. “No man of God would pretend to be such a bastard. You should leave.” 

“Look!  I am on business. Can’t leave till it's done. Now get him the fuck out here” 

You both entered a weird staring contest when you heard Alfie come down the stairs. 

“Right little brat you have here,” Arthur growled and you sneered at him. “How many Arthur Shelbys are probably out th-” 

“Do you mean Arthur William Shelby?” Another man asked stepping into the warehouse. 

“See you do know him!” You growled. 

“Your dad fucked about, that can’t be much of a shock to you,” Alfie said with a chuckle. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The two men said in unison. 

You watched as the men squared up against each other. 

“Half-sister” Alfie pointed to you. “Her grandparents took her in when her mum went the same way your mum did. Must be his type.” Arthur looked like he was ready to punch him in the face. “Her Grandparents helped me with business in New York. Left her to me when they knew you lot were the only other option.” 

Arthur spat on Alfie’s shoes. “Like you’re a better option?!” He handed Alfie an envelope. “You better call Thomas before I speak to him.” He stood there for a moment obviously contemplating whether he should attempt to fight Alfie or leave. “And this better not be some fucking joke.” He stormed off. 

“You’re really his kid?” John said and you noticed the sadness in his eyes. You nodded and he turned around and followed after his brother. 

You looked at Alfie and suddenly needed to sit down. He caught you before you landed on the floor. He placed you in a chair in his office. 

“I don’t want to know any man -” You shook your head unable to finish the sentence. Obviously, something had to come crashing down. You’d become accustomed to your little cramped bedroom, eating breakfast in his office, and tea out by the water no matter how awful the weather was. He always listened and would ramble on about stuff that seemed completely useless. It wasn't home, but he made it feel more like an adventure. His hands were gripping the sides of your arms. 

“Easy now, love.” He said softly. “It’s not that bad.” 

“You knew I had family - His family around here and didn't say anything?”

“Well, they left you to me not them -” 

“Alfie.” 

“I didn’t think you would mix in with them right away. Figured you needed some space from everything.” 

“Are they like him?” 

“Gypsy trash? Mostly. Thomas is a right mess -” He sighed at your expression. “They aren’t that bad.”

“Lie” 

“I like hating him. Were friends for the most part. His family is pure chaos, but he treats them well enough.” He squeezed your arm. “Wanted to give you a bit of time before introducing them.” 

Tears started to prickle in the corners of your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t send you anywhere I thought wasn’t safe. Despite being a right pain in the ass, you're not a terrible person. Don’t deserve to live with terrible people.” 

________________________________________________

Tommy made his phone calls. Got all the evidence together, all of it pointing to him having a half-sister. With this knowledge came a heavy dilemma. 

Bring her into the never-ending mess. Or let her live a nice life with all that money. 

He thought about her being with Alfie, not much different than having her here? 

He groaned pouring another glass of whiskey. 

Fucking fuck. He thought about his dad and settled into the familiar acidity of his anger. 

He made the phone call. 

“Thomas.” 

“Alfie.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “Got my sister there?” 

“She’s in bed.” 

“Bring her around then. I’ll take her in.” 

“She’s not a bloody horse Tom” 

“How old is she?” 

“18” 

“Why bother with her then, eh?” She was an adult no reason to keep her. 

“She’s in my care till she’s 19. That’s how it is ‘cross the pond.” 

He sore silently. 

“Still she’s my family. Should have her here.” 

“Exactly what her grandparents didn’t want. I don’t know your father but he did a right number on her.”

“On all of us,” Tommy answered bitterly instantly regretting expressing that to Alfie. He thought of the poor girl and felt for her. “Just bring her around eh? She can decide. But I need to speak with her.” 

“I’ll ask her. She’s flighty when it comes to the business though. M’ not having her over there with maids whoring about and men getting shot in the parking lot.” 

“Fuck sake! It was one party, ages ago, that got out of hand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s because you party like fucking savages!” 

“We've got kids now- things are different-” 

“Fuck off - you lot are always running from things! “ 

“From what?! All my fucking money?!” 

“Alfie?” a quiet voice interrupted whatever he was going to reply with and suddenly the line went dead. Fucking idiot, they always bitch at each other like schoolchildren. Not even Arthur or John act like that. 

He climbed the stairs and got into bed next to Lizzie. 

“She’s your sister then?” She asked in the dark. He didn't respond. “Can always tell when you're talking to him - shouting your bloody head off.”

“I don’t want her to stay with him. Just the two of them in that dusty house. It’s not right.” 

“Have her over then.” 

“That’s the plan.”

Lizzie made a soft sound before coming over to press against his side. He didn't sleep. 

Waking up in the morning he called the family in. Feeling stupid for overlooking one specific and glaringly obvious issue. 

Polly. 

The girl stood in the entryway looking equal parts terrified and ready for a fight. Polly looked over the girl in a way that told Thomas everything he needed to know. She’d be a part of the family no matter what anyone wanted to say about it. 

Two weeks after Michael left to go back to his adoptive parents. A month after hearing that her daughter had died. Now there was an awkward lanky girl, with eyes that had seen too much, looking back at her. A need was filled. 

Looking at Alfie it was obvious that it bothered him. Why he’d grown attached to her, for his sake, better have been a paternal thing. 

“We have some business,” He said to the girl once the introductions took place she gave a nod and followed him with her head held high. He wasn’t surprised to see Polly following closely behind her. 

Alfie decided to stay in the entryway and harass Arthur some more.

He motioned to a chair and she took a seat looking around the space. Polly’s eyes watched her like she was a showhorse up for bid. 

“You knew my father then?” Her face twisted up and he realized he probably could have started things off in a better way. 

“Yes. And I’m almost certain he killed my grandparents. That’s why I’m here with Alfie. So if you're in on his plan” She leaned on the desk and stared at him. “I see you.”

“Haven't seen him in years. Don’t need the extra cash either” He motioned to the house. That seemed to appease her slightly as she leaned back into the chair. 

“He is an awful man and if this is where he would go when he wasn't drugging my mum or making my life hell then I want nothing to do with you lot.” 

“Not here with us.” He confirmed wondering where on earth he was now. “I don’t like the thought of my sister alone in that junk museum with a potential enemy.” 

“Alfie’s fine.” 

“When he wants to be.” He answer wondering why he cared. 

“Same as you, no?” She challenged. 

“Look, let’s just get to know each other. We are family, one more at the table is a blessing. We have no other motives going on. It’s not much of a shock that you're here, I just wish it was under better circumstances.” Polly said squeezing her shoulder. “Alfie has been unpredictable in the past, but he is a good friend of the family. Both of you can come around whenever.” 

“Thank you.” The girl responded with a small smile. “If we really are all on the same side. Perhaps you could help me find out what happened to my Grandparents?” 

“I-” 

“Of course, we can, love. We know lots of people in New York.” Polly responded before he could tell her it was better to let these things be forgotten. 

___________________________________

You sat in at dinner and found yourself having to leave the room for laughing so hard. Tommy and Alfie were like cat and dog. If anything they seemed more married than anyone else at the table. They clearly had a long history. 

You stepped out on one of the balconies trying to catch your breath. Everyone told you that laugh was not table-appropriate and you didn't want to offend these people. 

Suddenly the door opened and Ada walked out. She gave you another look over and touched your cheek. 

“Can’t believe I have a proper sister.” She said in a warm tone. 

‘Half-” You were going to correct her but she cut you off. 

“Same thing. You look like things weren’t the best for you growing up and I wanted to tell you I can relate. I remember dad too clearly. I really wish I didn’t.” She gave you a sad smile and you realized that they had him around all the time when they were young. Not just here and there when he wasn't on long trips. 

You tried to say something but just ended up silent hands making an awkward gesture. 

“Don’t have to explain it.” She tucked your hair behind your ear. “I hope we can get to know each other better. Do our hair, go out, gossip. I always felt so jealous of my friends who had sisters.” 

You thought about how nice that sounded and gave her a nod. 

“I’d like that a lot.” 

“I’ll warn you though.” Your stomach twisted up waiting for her to tell you something horrible. “Polly’s found out her daughter that was taken from her died, and her son went back to his foster parents recently - it’s a long story - She’s probably going to try and smother you.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh yeah. Every time we see a baby in a carriage she starts crying. It’s not been an easy time for her lately. Just try to humor her if you can. I’ll be staying here for a while with Karl. Nice to have the family around to help out with him.” 

“That’s your son?” 

“Yes! I’ll introduce you to all the kids in the morning.” She smiled brightly and you got excited at the idea of being an aunt. 

“Esme will also probably want to recruit you. The boys always end up outnumbering us so I’m sure she’ll be happy-” 

“Stop making me sound like I’m a cult leader!” Esme whispered taking the cigarette out of Ada’s hand. “I’m just saying that Tommy needs to be kept in line - look at her she’s got fight in her eyes!” They both looked at you causing a thick blush to cover your cheeks. Just then Lizzie showed up. 

“Oi stop making me sound like a bad wife! I keep in check plenty these days thank you.” 

“Maybe you could use another round of that, looking a little tense, love.” Esme pinched her bottom and she slapped her playfully. 

“Cult of bad wives or whatever nonsense they were corrupting you with - It’s lovely to have you around. Got a nice laugh.” 

“No! I know it’s horrible I wasn't allowed to laugh too much- that’s why I came out here -” You stuttered trying to explain. 

“They wouldn't let you laugh?” Polly interrupted closing the patio door behind her. 

“I mean it wasn't proper for me to laugh like that.” You crooked your head to the side wondering why that wasn't obvious to them. 

“YOU LOT BEST BEHAVE YOURSELVES!” Tommy called out loudly interrupting his current argument with Alfie. 

You started laughing again much to their delight. 

“As you can see we are not the most proper.” Lizzie did a little wave with her hand. 

“You all spend a lot of time together?” Suddenly you wanted to be cool like them. The way they all looked different but so pretty. Esme had wild hair and dark makeup, Lizzie looked like she belonged on the cover of an expensive fashion magazine, Polly looked like a part of her was owned by a force of nature, and Ada was soft but elegant. 

“You could say that!” They laughed

“The boys are always out-” 

“Better than being alone -” 

You nodded. You never had real friends growing up, certainly none like this. 

“Don’t worry, love. We will corrupt you in due time.” Esme said with a wink. 

You got pulled into the kitchen and watched as they got louder and louder. Loud enough that Thomas came in eventually with his sleeves rolled up and his face red. 

“How could you possibly be louder than us eh?” He looked angry till a smile broke out on his face and he went over to kiss Lizzie’s cheek.

“Hope you lot haven’t melted her brains” Alfie grumbled but also looked in good spirits. The rest of the boys, your brothers piled in. Finn was around the same age as you a fact that made your heart hurt a little bit. His dad spent all his time tormenting you instead of being there for him. Would he see that as a blessing or a curse? He shook your hand and started up with a million questions about New York and your funny accent. His friend sat down beside you resting his arm on the back of your chair. 

He reached out his hand “Isaiah”

You introduced yourself, shaking his hand. The two boys went back and forth asking different things. It was nice to be with people your own age. The three of you chattered on and then quieted down to listen to Alfie’s story.

You burst out laughing and all the women started cheering you on turning your face a deep shade of crimson. 

“I like that laugh,” Isaiah said quietly and the thought of staying around here wasn't so bad suddenly. 

_______________________

You were torn, but you decided to go back with Alfie in the early morning. Polly made you promise to call once you got it and wrote down eight different numbers to reach her at in case of emergency or just in case I wanted to talk. 

You smiled at her and saw a familiar feeling behind her eyes as she kissed your cheek.

On the drive home, Alfie mumbled about how they are a good lot of bad people. Something you would have to embrace unless you wanted to go off on your own.

“Thanks for going with me.” You said once settled in the beach house. 

“No need to thank me.” He said brushing you off. 

“If I were to go live with them, could I still work at the bakery?” 

“Of course.” He gave you a tight smile and you felt bad for him being shut up in the house all the time.

“Can I stay over sometimes too? I love all of them but the kids, and the horses, and its - erm - a lot at times?” 

“My house is always open to you, no matter what.” He patted your shoulder and you went off to bed. 

Polly fussing over her unsure of what bad stuff had happened to her over the years. Wanting to help her figure out what actually happened to her Grandparents and starting one of those massive pinboards with string in the sitting room trying to help her piece it all together. Eventually, Esme and Lizzie got really invested in helping. Thomas wondering what's going on and poking his head in and all of them shouting at him to leave. Him muttering Women under his breath but sneaking in at night to circle a few things he thought was important in the evidence anyway.

Them actually cracking the case and being surprised when she wakes up to a newspaper on the kitchen table saying that a local Jewish gang was suspected in the murder of Arthur William Shelby Senior. 

Being shocked and watching as the family all came over to the house. You finding it weird that they spend more time talking to you about your grandparents than they did mourn their father. Once they were sure you were alright the celebratory drinking started. 

Isaiah suddenly always wanting to come over and hang out around Arrow House or Polly’s place whenever you were there. Finn teasing him endless amounts but also making it very clear that if it ended badly that Finn would do his job as your brother. 

Alfie coming over constantly to bother Thomas and slowly becoming more of an uncle in your eyes. Always around to cause trouble. 

Ruby fell in love with you, always insisting loudly that you had to be the one to carry her around. She’d often bust into your room at strange times to see if you wanted to play. Once you came up to your room to find her asleep in your bed. 

Finally being able to laugh and speak your mind about literally anything. Listening to them rant about things or poke fun at you. Shopping, parties, trips to London to shop and party some more. You thought it funny that they would go to parties basically just to watch people and only interact with themselves despite always being around each other. The gossip was always very spicy. 

Isaiah and you getting caught kissing on a street corner after a romantic date. A friend of Lizzie calling her saying she saw you. That going dramatically across the phone tree leading to you coming home and getting dragged into the kitchen for whiskey and interrogation. Was it good? Did he use tongue? Where were his hands?  Did he walk you to the door or just wait in the car? He did wait to see that you got in right?! 

Isaiah dealing with Tommy in the office when Alfie shows up and both of them being over protective dads. 

Finally, your 19th birthday rolls around. Finn saying that he felt you might leave, try being on your own for a bit, or that maybe Isaiah would propose. Polly overhearing it and starting to worry about you to the point where she sits you down and has a long talk about what it’s like being on your own and the head of a house, what it's like being married. You interpret this as them feeling like you should leave. Esme catching you in your bathroom crying as she dropped your dress for the party off. Clearing up the misunderstanding she wipes the tears from your face and does your makeup for you. “I’m not ready to be a grown-up.” You whisper looking up at her dark eyes. The warm glow of your pink bathroom makes you feel even smaller. “Look you’ve got a hot boyfriend that your family will literally kill if he hurts you, a hot dress to wear, and your makeup is finally done properly. Party is going to be amazing because I planned most of it. All of this is growing up. With this much love, it won’t be so bad.” She kissed your forehead. “All that stuff Polly told you was about her life. Back then she didn’t have anyone as cool as us watching her back.” 

The party becoming an absolute mess with some business deal going on in the background. Isaiah defending her bravely then going in for a big kiss in the middle of the entryway as things around them are falling apart. Guns firing, people screaming and throwing things. The whole thing wrapping up and you sitting in his lap in the kitchen sipping a whiskey out of his glass. The family finally feeling like he earned your attention and leaving you both alone for once.

[sins-of-the-sea]

“How did you know about the angel, Captain?!”

“I was confronted by one of their authorities. I am not sure which of their rankings, I was not given a name. I only heard a voice. Possibly an archangel or a principality, but she could have been a seraph or one of the Thrones for all I’d know.”

Ohh. Literal angels. That’s… not what the inhabitants of Rosegold Kingdom would identify as. At least not to his knowledge. This has to be some kind of mistake–Rosegold has to be some sort of traditional kingdom because Marshmallow mentioned having a queen. But the fact that someone approached the Captain about what he is inferring to be his meetings with Marshmallow, who can be mistaken to be an angel…

Perhaps this ‘she’ is either the Queen herself or some female representative of her court.

“What… has she confronted you about?”

“That you have been acting improperly around one of her own.”

“What?!!? We’re just talking! Sure, I flirted a few times here and there, but we never made actual physical contact! Well, nothing intimate, at least! He seems to like me so far, but we’re just friends!” Guy remembers the flower crown, now removed from his head to be hung on his wall. “We’re not-... it’s not like we’re courting! I don’t think we are!”

Josep finds that hard to believe. “‘You don’t ‘think’?’”

“Well, it’s not like I’m getting into his pants anytime soon, if that’s what you’re worried about. I highly doubt that’ll happen anyway. Not with the way things are going.”

“If that is the case… I am grateful, Guy.”

“...’Grateful’?”

“The angelic authority spoke to me how dangerous it was on their end. On our end it is dangerous as well. Can you imagine if the Master found out you were consorting with an agent of Heaven? Or if the Lord has found out an angel is mingling with humans like they did when they produced the Nephilim before the Flood?”

That… is wrong. The statement is wrong. And yet… not wrong at all at the same time. Guy knows full well Marshmallow and the Rosegold Kingdom is nothing like the angelic council in the Jewish and Christian bibles. However, he was able to recall the monster’s injury when they first met on La Demonia Roja. He recalls how Marshmallow suddenly acted distant upon remembering he had a Queen. What Josep is warning of may be a misunderstanding of the actual nature of these ‘angels’, but he is otherwise right for all the wrong reasons:

Guy meeting with him could either make him vulnerable to the Master or ruin his place among his own people. It’ll only further validate and confirm Guy is nothing but trouble and must not get close.

“....I fully understand, Captain. I will keep my distance. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused today. For the record, the scorched parts of town were due to a different date altogether. One that Ruixiong tried to organize in an attempt to lift my spirits, but I ended up getting angry with him and the date instead. I overreacted.”

“Did the date do something to offend you?”

“Not the date. Just Ruixiong. But you know how he is. Don’t punish him for what I did. He was just trying to cheer me up. I will not be leaving the hold until a very long while. I will accept any punishment you deck out onto me.”

“No. That will not be necessary. Seeing how you are still in there within the hold… I think you are being punished enough.”

“I’m not leaving the ship, Captain. Only when in relation to the Eye. I don’t want to see or be seen by anyone. All the more nowadays. Forgive me, Captain. But this includes you now.”

“..........”

“!! I-...I didn’t mean to let that slip out…!!”

“There is no need to apologize. I understand you are upset with everything that is happening to you right now. Please be well, Guy. I’ll check on you later.”

[jonathankatwhatever]

Muji had a small number of lavender pens! In a burst of optimism, I bought 4. It’s 15 Feb 2023.

I just put you together in an entirely different perspective, using the device of inverting myself into you, meaning I’m following the math, and it leads me to obvious things, like why can’t I do this? As long as I don’t do that, then I can do this? That makes so much sense because it’s that essential method I was just describing in an answer to why do some Jews hate Jews and Israel. That took me to a brief description of the Jewish method of exhaustion, which is Pathways. So when I was looking at you and seeing the familiar material, I suddenly felt a shift and I realized: if I’m in that enclosure, then this is what I’d be doing, and it suddenly made sense.

This built off earlier today realizing the extent to which new kitchen towels add color. I picked the clean ones out because they’re flowery bright. And I thought: I could not imagine giving up color, which led me to black & white, which led me to blindness, which led me into the perspective of those who share human brains but without hearing or without sight or without this or that. That is how you participate in this world.

And that led me to how we are constructs of that which contains all the perspectives of seeing, of hearing, of movement, of touch. And that is true in what we can see: we construct what we can see. This can be expansive or contractive. Expansive means we expand our sight with greater knowledge, which literalizes into devices that grant extra perception, like night vision or an exo-skeleton. Contractive means reducing what we can see. Example would be hatred reduces perception to objectify, to dehumanize, and justifies harmful conduct.

————

My thoughts around the layering of Sheets are straightening out, which means there is a construction which is connecting pieces so it feels to me like there’s a straight line across. That models in Triangular as the construction of the 1-0Segment across from End to End. That is where the idea of 1Segments really comes out: the Pathway End to End through the 3rd End runs back and forth as 1Segments. This builds in 2 counts: count of across End to End which is 1, and a count across End to End which is 1 to 2, meaning the 1Segments travel that much faster to get through that 3rd End in the same count. This is construct, by which I mean if we assume the same speed of counting, then counting End to End to End has the same outcome as counting End to 3rd End to End. But what if you’re the other End? You receive something from End, and you receive something from the 3rd End as your response to the first message arrives back at End. So 3rd End gives you information before End has a chance to reply. That means the messaging can never be entirely completed but that messaging with this process can complete.

If I can work this out, that would be something. Complete surprise to me.

Messages can complete because they stop, which means they continue in one Sheet but stop in the Sheet where they are read as messages. A simple example would be Extent limits, like the Informational Limit can’t be exceeded: any additional process added becomes mass. Wow, that is the best description of the IL yet.

I’m trying to simplify but it makes my head hurt.

So, we have a few cases. One is that we can imagine an Observer to whom material is presented, meaning Observer exists and stares at a screen on which stuff is projected. This includes physical contact because Observer has an internal perspective which acts as though it is ‘looking out’ when looking inward. I would bet this fits the ancient cave idea.

Another is that this means there is a mirror mechanism. The old Mirror of LUS, of the lack of a universal set, which we converted to a mirror by noting that somethingc we called IMP existed, which was the fundamental concept of impossibility, of absolute non-fit, which reduces in existence but never goes away. Now that I can recall it, I see that thinking was very good, very accurate. In grid squares or grid box terms, we would have 2 choices, 2 Ends, connected to a 3rd. When the 3rd End can only exist as the count runs in either direction over the 1Segments connecting that 3rd End over and through the others when it flickers, meaning there is a 0, not a both being 1, if you pick the simultaneous case, and that means there’s been an axis flip so 0 now shows at the 3rd End.

You can get close to simultaneity, but you can’t get there. An example of getting close is in the farces we described some days ago, in which a single person wears many hats, some completely incompatible unless you impose a logic which makes them compatible. A logic is an algebra because it connects an End to an End past its boundary, meaning there is a connection, and thus some inversion relationships, which connect some perspective or part or dimension of one End to another.

Weird to think that last one becomes ‘she asked for it dressing like that’, because it’s the presentation of that side which is seen from the male perspective. That makes it her fault in the sense she provokes men. It’s fascinating to see how this simple idea can become a control mechanism.

Took a break to eat. Chicken patty on rye toast, reheated with mustard, a hot sauce, and blue cheese, lettuce as the other piece of bread. Immensely satisfying and nutritious.

So, we connected this End to End simultaneity arriving in return to describe why the core paradox of set theory exists.

This means each iteration is a layer. Please let that be true. This is very, very difficult work. If each iteration within the simultaneity is laid out, is ordered, it cannot reach what we might call the Tower of Babel level, since the story is so similar, because that’s a pole, and we can’t see beyond the flickering images, beyond the projections on our screens. This is guaranteed by the exchanges we spent all that time describing, and which I’d completely filed away until now, in which End sends to End. That is the basis of the dimensional model because each End represents the Pathways which connect other Ends to it, and by which it connects to other Ends.

Here is where it gets mind-bending for me. This is a Triangular Sheet. At least, imagine a Triangular Sheet. It also has Hexagons. There are other Triangular Sheets, which becomes the Irreducibles, which describe the transition from D2 to D4, which indicates grid squares at certain locations in the gs(n) form because that’s where a + sign appears. There are other coincidences as well. The obvious ones are an Irreducible and a Hexagon and 2 Hexagons, meaning their Irreducibles. Using the same dimensional logic, that constructs D12, which also means you can see a Pathway to and from D4, because the core of the double Hex is the Triangular Irreducibles, and that invokes a gs, which is D4 because it comprises two D2 Triangular Sheets. That is why grid squares expands into grid boxes, and why we have a 3-dimensional world.

You can see it mechanically. I mean it’s as simple as you can’t just double 2 to 4 without stopping at 3. That’s basic Triangular.

That reveals a way of explaining numbers. As the form of simultaneity which breaks into all the other meanings because it represents the point at which higher or larger dimensions reduce to that number. This can be as basic as a line into a grid square, so you can see the expansion of the point being the End into D2, D3, etc.

It’s not possible for there to be existence without flickering because that establishes identification. Identification is on a pole which tips its count into view to be read, meaning it generates a count, and presents that count, and that count fits and doesn’t fit, very much like in sports, where you can imagine all the preparation being enacted in front of you as poles or expansions within the player that then project outward on to the field. Or like a concert.

Sorry, but the mention of concert and I was 2 steps from fantasies of heaven.

I think this began back at D12 breaking down to D4, which also means building up as the D4 of D3 and the D3 of D4. The former puts D3 objects anywhere they can fit within D4, while the latter means D4 has depth, that it forms boxes which fill with the D3. The first of those may be harder to understand without remembering Recombinance, that all you can fit within is all the Pathways, all the Things, etc. This makes the connection to the box of time clearer. That is what we are talking about: stuff in boxes of time.

So, we have this one case in which we have an Observer, a single Observer who has a screen on which stuff from the outside and stuff from the inside manifests. The ideal Observer can see everything all at once in every detail, but that can’t exist because we’ve just constructed the mirror as the place where IMP generates LUS, meaning where we specify sufficient simultaneity of Pathways that the pole flips.

That leads me to see what may be the best thing I’ve ever had flash in my head: the answer to that long, long, long asked question, ‘How did I End up here?’ As in, I was thinking about this and suddenly I realized I wasn’t thinking about that any longer but was somewhere else. I was feeling this way, and next thing I know I’m feeling this other way. I’d better write it down before I get too bogged down phrasing cases. It’s that the pole flips, and the flip is to a side, to a length, to a layer, to a bunch of pathways, to some particular conclusion within whatever world you have in your head, big or little. Become a larger person inside your own head, while learning how to keep a hold on who you are. That should be easier when people understand how these processes work.

In statistics thinking, each flip is an iteration. I thought of stats because each flip can be thought of as having an angle. And it has a probability of landing in this or that area. I see how you construct magnitudes of effects through layers.

That means I can imagine a perfect or ideal situation. So that expresses as an intersection in gs. A Hex on an Irreducible Halves the Hex on that axis. The obvious implication is that there are two levels of counts of 4: there are 4 1-0Segments inverting to the center which are not cut in each view, and 2 which are cut into 2 by both Irreducibles, which also inverts to the center End. These processes connect to the other layer. Here comes a big one: but that doesn’t mean they connect back the same way. The processes connect to the other layer, but we don’t know if that becomes the 2fD coincidence which marks the gs: it’s just 1fD Irreducible, so we’re getting an implication that this Hex is that, but we don’t know. So, that means we can see the process as linking a gs to higher dimensions through the Pathways.

It’s literally saying that we have these two processes which count D4 to the center, and these have to balance in each and thus both Irreducibles. Since these processes run both directions, then we get segmentation. We see this in a simple sense with slim mould: it calculates over its existence so when signals change it will adapt and spread within the capabilities calculated. It’s a basic existence, reduced to impulses.

Again, I cannot phrase the issue I want to get at, which is how these maps relate to the two mental worlds we’ve constructed, grid squares and Triangular/Hexagonal? The approach I’ve been hoping works is yesterday’s revelation that these maps in which Irreducibles align separate and connect these forms. We’ve since developed two of those. The third is double Hex, meaning Irreducible at the End. This is a different rotation view: the midpoint of a 1Segment is the intersection, is the rotation of a 1Segment around itself, around its midpoint. The double Hex rotates around 1 End of the 1Segment. It can be either End, but not both,

If we have both, then we have rotation around the midpoint. Note how that moves this rotation around, and how that models to gravity models. The sun is too massive to move so we do, and we together are moving because there is something more massive, meaning more process connecting more process.

A double Hex lends itself more to the imaginary unit circle because it not only takes the rotation around the midpoint and labels each half as 1, but also because it double counts sK and zK. That fixes the rotations or balances them to some amount. We can see the ideal and reduce from there. And we can see how ideal fits context.

In the other Hex appearance, we do not double count sK and zK. That is why the connection is not complete.

Issue: at D12, Regularized or not, the construction has multiple D3-4 and D4-3 existences. I’m suddenly drawn to Mathieu groups. What was the reason for b10 in this context? Halving of Things with Bips and corners, meaning it exists in gs. So 5-transitive in the basic counts of these groups and their rotations or chains. This needs more, but that’s better by far than I’ve done before with that.

It makes sense in light of how we characterized the Monster group as a cube of 4,5, and 6 times 12, then -1, so 47*59*71. That 4 as a process makes sense now that we’ve uncovered the other ‘4 processes’ in this. The -1 means it fits as a D3 Object within the enclosure.

I’m learning not to discard visual thoughts. I just saw the 7 Ends of a Hexagon, then a count of 5, leaving a D1 line from origin to one of the Ends or from End to End, which is the same as locating the origin relative to those, as well as locating the midpoint. Oh, so it can locate the End or the midpoint by counting to 5. Do this over and over, and you identify the same or a different End or midpoint.

This is strange, but that builds chains of 5 that count out of 6, so it maps b10 to a Hexagonal and thus Triangular Sheet. A certain number of outcomes for each spot. Oh, that puts chains of D5 in D6. And thus D10 in D12.

I’m still trying to connect the tObject, the actual stuff. It’s process. It can be moved around and more process can happen. So what I’m seeing is lots of layers, all stuck together the same way, and some of those layers construct tObjects and some iObjects because both occur in the Dimensional Reduction.

That took an enormous push to get out. It’s essentially a statement that a layer can be thick or thin, that it exists between other layers, like a sandwich. I really see and feel it, for the first time since I got this deep into the mechanics. This is the same clarity we had in earlier visits to this ‘grand’ idea, but with more local clarity. A better quality diamond.

The experience of thinking with me as you has generated the best work we’ve ever done. And on my end, it has dramatically pushed forward the concept of the sides being separate and coequal: I’ve been able to remove the impulse to do from the doing in more cases, meaning I trust the flow of physical behavior when the left is fully empowered to take charge as desired. I feel different.

I need to get into betray. It was, after all, held up on a sign, and it’s been the ever-present negative focus of my life. I’ve always been able to see a positive definition: as in ‘betray you are in love’, because I know it comes from the Latin to hand over, which becomes to hand over one’s self, one’s heart. It flipped over time to accent the negative by saying it’s not yourself but some other who is handed over. A crossover is the story of speak for yourself, John, or stories like Cyrano and in Love’s Labours Lost, where characters speak through others and that, by the end, betrays who they really are.

As I read this, that abstracts to everyone betrays you as the origin, as the center, as the Bip, and that can be love of all and by all, at least those within your definition of ‘everyone’.

———-

Just had the most delightful thought: that I’d we can make the cubic attachment, then we unleash the monster! Group, that is. A friendly sort if you cooperate.

Looking at a Fano plane. I see scales of Triangular linked by OSpace transformations. A Triangular enclosing a tangent circle is not an obvious multiple of the 1 used internally. This is perhaps easier to see if you turn the circle into a Hexagon. So these Triangular scales relate over these transforms, whatever is required. That process connects.

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Being sick sucks, but at least it involves matzo ball soup

Just a super fluffy quinnflag sick fic for y’all! 

Rick wakes up to the sound of Harley hacking up a lung beside him.

“If you're gonna die, please do it quieter,” he mumbles, still half asleep.

It's at this point where Harley would normally punch him and tell him to fuck off but instead she sniffs and says pathetically, “I don't feel good.”

That makes him pause. When Harley's sick she never admits it. Instead she powers through it and acts like everything is completely normal. That tells him this isn't an everyday run of the mill cold.

“You okay, Harls?” he asks, suddenly concerned.

“No!” she complains, before having another coughing fit. She sounds congested and miserable. “I feel like I'm gonna puke.”

He reaches over to feel her forehead. She's burning up. He makes a move to get out of bed but she reaches a hand out to stop him.

“Don't go!” she whines.

“You've got a fever, Harls. I'll be right back.”

She reluctantly lets go of him and he makes his way to the medicine cabinet. As he rummages around for the Tylenol he makes a mental checklist of what he'll need to keep her comfortable.

When he gets back he finds that Harley has stolen his spot on the bed and cocooned herself in the blankets. She reaches a hand out from the pile. “Snuggle with me.”

“Harls, you're gonna overheat.”

“Nah, I'm freezing. And besides, I missed ya.”

“I was only gone for five minutes,” he reminds her with a chuckle, as he slips under the mountain of blankets with her.

He hands her two pills and gets her to sit up enough for her to take them with the glass of water he has ready. Once that's done she lays back down and curls up against his side—legs tangling with his and one arm thrown across his chest. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.

He immediately starts sweating. He's already a human space heater, according to Harley, and they're covered in at least three blankets. He can't help but hope she falls asleep so he can escape. Luckily it doesn't take long.

Once Harley is snoring away softly, Rick tries to carefully extricate himself from the tangle of blankets and limbs. He doesn't get very far before Harley is tightening her grip around his waist.

“Where're ya goin'?” she whines, still half asleep.

“I was gonna go get you food,” he admits. “And some other essentials.”

She perks up. “Oooh, can ya get me an egg sandwich?”

He sighs. “Harls, you literally just told me you feel like you're gonna puke. You're not getting an egg sandwich.”

She huffs and tightens her grip on him further. “Fine, then ya can't leave.”

He chuckles softly. “I was going to get you some matzo ball soup from that Jewish deli you're obsessed with but if you don't want that...”

She peeks up at him. “The one down the street?”

“That's the one.”

She thinks for a minute before loosening her hold on him. “Okay, fine, you can go. But ya better bring me back a knish while you're out.”

“Matzo ball soup and a knish, got it,” he says as he slips out of bed and goes to the dresser to find a shirt to wear.

As he's pulling the garment over his head he hears Harley tsk and say, “Ya know, it really should be illegal for you to have to wear a shirt.”

He blushes but doesn't respond. Before he heads out he goes back to the bed so he can kiss her forehead. As he's leaning down, she suddenly grabs him by the shirt and pulls him towards her to give him a proper kiss. He dodges it at the last second.

She pouts. “Aww, I can't even get a kiss before ya leave?”

He kisses her forehead. “Normally, yes, but you don't want both of us to be sick, do you?”

Harley just grumbles in response and rolls over—burrowing further under the mountain of blankets.

------

Rick's back an hour and a half later with Harley's soup and knish (that the owner—a little old Jewish grandma—had thrown in for free). He makes his way to the kitchen and puts the soup in a bowl before carrying it to the bedroom.

He stifles a laugh at the sight that greets him. The medicine has obviously kicked in because Harley's kicked off all the blankets. She's sprawled out on the bed and her hair is a sweaty mess.

He sets the bowl of soup on the nightstand and shakes her gently.

She rolls over with a groan and says, “I feel gross.”

He reaches over to feel her forehead. Her skin feels clammy and cold.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asks.

She perks up. “You'd do that?”

“Of course, Harls.” He gets up from the bed and tells her, “Eat your soup.”

He's just getting the bath started when he hears a loud “Fuck!” coming from the bedroom.

He rolls his eyes and calls back, “Did you burn your mouth?”

There's silence for several seconds before Harley answers back, “Maybe.”

She's done with her soup by the time he comes back to the bedroom to take her to the bath. He grabs the bowl and sets it aside before moving to scoop her up so he can carry her.

She shoves him away and insists, “I can do it myself!”

She gets herself out of bed and then promptly stumbles and runs into his chest. He laughs and holds her close. “Feeling dizzy?”

She pouts but admits, “Maybe a little.”

She lets him pick her up this time without protest.

They're halfway to the bathroom when Harley suddenly grabs his chin and squints. And then starts cackling once she sees the lipstick stain that's been left on his cheek.

He sighs. “Bubbie says hi.”

Bubbie is the little Jewish grandma who runs the deli. She's basically adopted Harley and they both highly suspect she's punched at least two Nazis based on the way she runs her restaurant.

He sets her on her feet once they reach the bathroom and starts helping her undress.

“Couldn't wait to get me naked, could ya?” she flirts, as he's on his knees helping her out of her underwear.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head but doesn't respond. He presses his lips to her bare stomach before standing back up.

She rolls up on her toes and leans against his chest. His hands automatically go to her waist. He notices the mischievous glint in her eye and knows exactly what's going through her head. She goes in for a kiss and he turns his head so her lips catch his cheek instead.

“Aww, still no kiss?” she complains.

He kisses her nose. “Not while you're still sick.”

“But I'm horny!” she whines.

He snorts. “Harley, you can't even stand up on your own right now.”

She just pouts in response.

He sighs and points to the bathtub. She takes the hint and carefully steps over the edge and lowers herself into the water. She immediately lets out a content sigh.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much better!”

She lays back to get her hair wet and then reaches for the shampoo. He grabs it before she can and says, “Want some help?”

She nods in response and he squirts some soap into his hands. She moans softly as his nails scratch her scalp. Once he's done lathering, he urges her to lay back so she can rinse it out. He does the same thing with her conditioner and then they just sit there in comfortable silence.

He notices the mischievous look on her face too late. Before he can react, Harley's grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

Rick doesn't pull away immediately—he's missed kissing her as much as she has, after all. But eventually his brain catches up to his body and he breaks the kiss.

“Harley, what the fuck?” he protests.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Calm your tits, you'll be fine!”

He can't help but be skeptical as her laughter morphs into a coughing fit.

He grumbles and takes his wet shirt off. Harley's breath hitches and she says, “It's not fair how jacked ya are! How's a girl supposed to focus when she's got this to look at?” She gestures to his torso.

He blushes, still not quite used to her comments about his body. As she once told him, he “doesn't know he's hot.” Before he can respond, she adds, “I wanna climb ya like a fuckin' tree.”

He gets an idea—he's decided he needs to get back at her for that surprise kiss. He smirks and dips his hand into the water and settles it on her thigh. As he trails his fingers higher, he rasps in her ear, “And you'll get the opportunity to do just that real soon.” She bites her lip and tips her head back—he's so close to where she wants him. She lets out a whine as his hand suddenly disappears. “But,” he continues, “not until you're better.”

He laughs at the glare Harley shoots his way, along with a middle finger. He kisses her forehead and asks, “Ready to get out of the tub?”

She nods and he reaches over to grab a towel. He helps her stand and once she steps out of the tub he wraps her in a towel. She lets out a yawn and leans against his chest as he dries her off. Once her hair is toweled off, he wraps her up and scoops her into his arms. She's practically asleep again by the time they reach the bedroom.

He sets her down on the bed and goes to the dresser to find one of his shirts for her to wear. He makes her take some cold medicine and then he's ushering her under the covers. He goes back to the bathroom to clean up and when he comes back, Harley is cocooned under a (much more reasonable) single blanket, fast asleep.

She stirs as he slides under the covers with her. He curls up behind her and says, “It's just me, Harls. Go back to sleep.”

---------

They spend the next two days like that—curled up in bed together, with Rick only leaving to get her food and medicine.

On day three, Rick wakes up feeling like he's been hit by a truck. As he hacks up a lung he glares at Harley, who's looking extremely guilty.

“Sorry?” she offers.

He gives her a middle finger in response.

“Well,” he rasps, “looks like we're both useless now.”

Harley perks up. “Movie date on the couch?”

He can't help but smile. He can never stay mad at her for long. “Movie date sounds great.”

He helps her gather up the blankets to take out to the living room. He parks his ass on the couch and wraps himself in a comforter while she gets a movie started. He holds his arm out and envelopes her in the blanket with him once she joins him on the couch.

They're both asleep before the opening credits roll.

[galaxina-the-pyro]

Random (but Canon) Facts About Isabella Garcia-Shapiro

(I got bored during work and jotted a buncha stuff down - I'll admit I was inspired by @metaphor-cheese's hot take about how Isabella should've been developed more. Some of these facts are elements about Isabella that I do wish were explored more, though a lot of these are just fun, random tidbits of information that aren't in any particular order. There will also be some Phinabella stuff, but we already know she has a crush on Phineas so I'm not gonna put that on this list.

Also keep in mind, "facts" is being used loosely here - if there's anything you disagree with on this list, feel free to say whatever. This is just stuff I remembered from the top of my head and verified, but some of this stuff could be interpreted differently.)

Isabella is very competitive ("Got Game", "Put That Putter Away", "Brain Drain", etc)

She is/was claustrophobic ("Knot My Problem")

Is a maladaptive daydreamer [though this mostly confides to her trips down "Phineasland"] ("Isabella and the Temple of Sap", "Bee Story")

Has an intense fear of failure ("Bee Story", "Where's Perry Part 1")

Speaks a little French ("Buford Confidential")

Is Mexican-Jewish

Celebrate Hannukah ("Phineas and Ferb Christmas Vacation!")

Makes/creates Mexican-Jewish delicacies ("It's No Picnic")

Has an interest in unicorns ("Doofania", "Out of Toon")

Her cuteness is stronger than that of Cuteonium, an element said to be the most powerful cute source ever ("Meapless in Seattle")

Can switch from an adorable girl voice to an intense, low-pitched masculine one ("It's a Mud, Mud, Mud, Mud World", "For Your Ice Only")

Doesn't like it when other people use her catchphrase, and can sense when others use it [the exceptions being Phineas, possibly Baljeet, and Buford during "La Candace Cabra" while she was absent] ("Out of Toon", "Suddenly Suzy", "Phineas and Ferb Christmas Vacation!")

Has a bamboo named Bambina ("The Curse of Candace")

Believes that referring to one's self in the third person is fun [but admits that it's "not a hard and fast rule" when it comes to the likes of her dog Pinky ("Isabella and the Temple of Sap")]

Knows a lot about vehicles, from race cars to spaceships ("The Fast and the Phineas", "The Secret of Success", "Candace Against the Universe", etc.)

Excels in math, particularly triangulation ("Night of the Living Pharmacists")

Finds triangles to be an attractive aspect ("It's No Picnic")

Really Likes Puns ("De Plane! De Plane!", "It's No Picnic", etc)

Is an overachiever ("Bee Story", "Where's Perry Part 1", "Act Your Age", etc.)

Likes the spotlight, and dislikes when others take it from her, intentionally or otherwise ("The Chronicles of Meap", "We Call it Maze", "Suddenly Suzy", etc.)

Loves spectating/participating in extreme sports/activities ("Got Game", "Return Policy", etc.)

Likes strawberry ice cream ("Ferb Latin")

Plays soccer ("My Fair Goalie", "Act Your Age")

Can be distractable, particularly when it comes to Phineas [though there is at least one instance where she's distractable on her own] ("Isabella and the Temple of Sap", "Bee Story", "Mission Marvel", "Last Day of Summer" etc.)

Believes that cute nicknames are embarrassing ("Operation Crumb Cake")

Visits her Nana in the retirement home often ("Operation Crumb Cake")

Wants Candace to plan her[s] (and Phineas') wedding ("Candace's Big Day")

Believes one woman's capris pants is another's regular-sized pants for girls with short legs ("Last Day of Summer")

Has had her tonsils removed ("I Scream, You Scream")

Doesn't consider Baljeet cute ("Bully Bust")

Buford owns a plus-size version of Isabella's dress that, when pulled inside out, doubles as a goat costume ("La Candace Cabra")

Alternatively, Isabella can swiftly change from her normal attire to her Fireside Girl's uniform by pulling up her belt [and the hat? Cartoon logic, I can't explain that any other way] ("Night of the Living Pharmacists")

Considers not having to earn every Fireside Girls patch to be a ridiculous notion, and even outright horrifying ("Bee Story", "Where's Perry Part 1")

Isabella thinks that swapping bodies with an animal is considered cool ("Does This Duckbill Make Me Look Fat?")

Likes going to the pool, and has one in her backyard ("Rollercoaster", "Get Ready for the Betties", "Day of the Living Gelatin", etc.)

Looks forward to middle school ("Cranius Maximus")

Has memorized Phineas' Summer wardrobe by name and color ("Save Summer")

Has used patch related threats ("Candace Against the Universe")

There is most certainly more, these are just the ones I thought of on the top of my head. Again, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, I did double-check these but I could be misinterpreting some things and that's fine (except the goat-costume thing. That's the one thing you're not gonna sway me against, so don't even waste your time).

Also, feel free to add more facts and stuff if you want. :3

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[the-real-peter-parker]

Thoughts on MCU Peter Criticisms (& Miles Morales Comparisons)

Edit: if you are white, TAKE CAUTION INTERACTING WITH THIS POST OR ASKING QUESTIONS. This is evidence compiled by and discussed with different groups of POC, including Afro-Latines, some of whom live or have lived in NYC for a short period of time. No one involved in writing this post was white.

Before we start, the MCU as a whole is almost nothing like the comics. It has essentially become its own multiverse, and not many character traits carry over to the characters themselves. Wanda is no longer Roma and Jewish, Clint is nothing like himself in the comics and isn’t HOH, they did fuck all to Steve’s character, etc. MCU Peter is NOT comics Peter, but he has been more accurate where other adaptations may have fallen short. That said, he has fallen short where other adaptations may have done better.

While you compare MCU Peter to Miles, don’t forget that they are still different people at their core. MCU Peter maintains the “with great power comes great responsibility” mindset, but as a teenager he is going to make mistakes. I heavily emphasise that he is a teenager because he is so frequently compared to his actions and thoughts as an adult in the comics and not as the teen he actually is in the MCU.

For Peter as a teenager, he acts like a teenager should (hence, how Miles, a teenager, should). It’s teenage Peter learning what it means to be a hero. He helps the little person but isn’t satisfied, but as he fights the bigger fights and the Sinister Six, he starts to get more tired with time. It pushes him to become who he is as an adult. He doesn’t yet understand why he does what he does except that he feels it’s his responsibility because no one else has his abilities. MCU Peter has this wide-eyed curiosity about the world around him, and science and science fiction fascinate him the same way teenage comics Peter saw the world. This isn’t adult or college Peter. It’s high school Peter struggling with a new identity and powers he still isn’t accustomed to.

I will be addressing hopefully everything that comes from this post. This essay was not written with this post in mind, so I might end up leaving some things out.

Miles Morales as a Character

This is short but it’s necessary. Miles Morales was hated when he was first introduced. People shit on his character, saying that Marvel was forcing diversity, and giving him extra shit because he was a POC. “He doesn’t fit the Spider-Man character.” “He’s not marketable enough.” “The story isn’t well written.” White people will literally never understand what it’s like for POC to find representation for themselves and loved ones in media. When all these Black and Latine people living in Spanish Harlem see someone as a superhero that looks just like them and their friends, they’re going to root for him no matter what his story is like. Other people couldn’t understand what it’d be like for an Afro-Latino with a cop for a father and how it’d affect his storyline.

People love to rep Miles now. Where were you when he first came out in the comics and was getting shit on? Where were you when the masterpiece ITSV came out and suddenly he was the coolest character around? Where were you when you found out that MCU Peter had elements of Miles’ story and decided then that it was whitewashing? And why weren’t you there when Miles was at first a symbol of pride and not a victim of racism?

If the current live action MCU Spider-Man was Miles, I guarantee that everyone would be shitting on him for fucking up his character. It would be worse for him simply on the basis that he is Afro-Latino. 

I say this in the most offensive way possible. Go fuck yourselves. Because if you were there at the start and you let this happen, you’re part of the problem. I don’t want to hear about your privileged guilt either.

What MCU Peter Did and Didn’t Steal from Miles

Everyone agrees that Ned is extremely similar to Miles’ best friend, Ganke. He’s tech-savvy and has a similar appearance and personality. (Yes, this was shit of them.) Miles goes to a charter school. This is not something that they stole from Miles because Peter does not go to a charter school. (I talk about this in a bit.) In case you don’t know what a charter school is or don’t want to look it up, it’s basically a public school but with their own rules that have to be approved first. Charter schools are not full of gifted students but their funding differs from a typical public school.

Unlike most universes where Peter is Spider-Man, he has someone who isn’t his Uncle Ben to follow and learn from. Though his mentor isn’t Uncle Ben in the MCU, Tony Stark is someone that many students seem to look up to. The Avengers, to most, are heroes and have saved the world countless times. It makes sense that anyone would think the Avengers are cool in their universe, even if they are war criminals. The people in NYC specifically have witnessed the Avengers save people with their own eyes. At that point, who wouldn’t think that they’re cool? 

Peter’s character here goes to a STEM high school where everyone is a nerd. His interest in science and technology is what makes him interested in the suit that Tony provides. As he learns to use the suit, he continues to be amazed by the things his webs can do.

In the words of @nedimwatchingpornleeds: They are taking part of the story but people seem to forget that Miles isn't just a teenager that got powers. Being an afro-latino with a cop as a father gave him a very distinct outlook on life and how law enforcement should behave. He has been personally affected by this and thus strives to change his neighbourhood through not only helping the little guy but by taking on things that may be out of the scope of his current training. He is eager to prove that he isn't weak because half the world sees him as an underprivileged kid from the hood, and he wants to prove he can be because half the world sees black people as a criminal.

Films in Comparison

This could be its own essay, but I promised myself I wouldn’t do another one of these until this school semester is over. Probably shouldn’t write it anyway lmao

This is not a section to compare the actors’ portrayals of the character, because they are all different characters and we don’t compare how actors do their jobs. We’re looking at what aspects were done better/closer to the comics than others in other film adaptations, but to keep this short we are focusing on MCU Peter.

None of the films have very good quips. Tobey’s rarely said anything, Andrew’s was cocky, and Tom’s pretty much just says random shit. However, in this case, Tom’s may just have the best quips. They could do better with this, but I do honestly believe he has the best in comparison to the others. He has complimented people in the comics while they attack him (Moon Knight’s crescent darts) and he does the same in Homecoming when he finds the bank robbers with alien technology. He says similar things on the Staten Island Ferry. His references are definitely not so comic accurate, but one of Spider-Man’s "abilities” is not shutting the fuck up. MCU Peter does exactly that and will not shut up during his fights, even if he’s talking to himself about Star Wars.

MCU Peter is also arguably the smartest Spider-Man thus far. Tobey’s Peter has some understanding of the STEM field from his in-depth conversation with Doc Ock, for example. Andrew’s is able to help Curt Connors figure out how to regrow limbs. Tom’s uses his intelligence in the most inventive ways, in addition to knowing his shit. He breaks out of a government storage facility using just his graphing calculator in Homecoming. The webs he makes are entirely his own work (with stuff he uses from chemistry class) and he makes his own web shooters (likely materials from the woodworking class). He uses the Stark Tech to make his own suit, which is probably a really difficult thing to do.

None of the films mention Peter being a Jewish American, though this is rarely ever mentioned in the comics too. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is likely the only film adaptation that showed Peter having a Jewish wedding.

Other Concerns About His Character

“Peter is infantilised.” We’re starting with this one because I hate this so much and I don’t want to end with this topic. Peter is treated like a literal baby because he’s young, but here’s the thing. He’s young and naïve, but that doesn’t make him stupid. ESPECIALLY when people headcanon Peter as trans. Some people infantilise him like they do other trans people, and treat him as someone who needs to be taken care of. There is a larger issue with people treating transmen as “uwu soft bois” because they still see transmen as the “softer” and “emotional” part of themselves: women through gender roles. Unfortunately this is another conversation. This is only one of the reasons people ship st*rker, the ship between Tony and Peter. They fetishise this ship and it’s the only reason they ship it, but, again, that’s a different conversation.

“Flash is not a bully.” He definitely is, and I have a very, very long explanation as to why, along with personal experience to back it up. Luckily for all of us, I don’t need to put the whole thing. (If you’d like me to expand on this separately, I will.) The main point is that he is a bully with words. And if you truly believe that a white jock is the only kind of bully there is, you’d be incredibly wrong. Flash in the comics and in many adaptations in film/TV has been a white jock who overpowers people physically. Peter has always stood in the way of him bullying someone else on purpose because he’s a self-sacrificing dumbass who’d rather he get bullied than anyone else who couldn’t take it. It works the same way with words because he knows he can handle it. If he says nothing, Flash won’t pick on anyone else. 

“He can’t go to a STEM school full of smart kids without paying money.”  This is a funny (but slightly infuriating) one because you could easily google “nyc gifted high schools” or “nyc specialised high schools” to find a list. NYC has eight public specialised high schools, some of which have reputations for their STEM programs. The only requirements to enter are a high enough score on the SHSAT and good enough grades. They are completely free and are public, but with good enough funding for the school (Flash’s rich parents donating to the PTA/school) Peter could realistically have the means to make his webs and web shooters. Something Tom Holland did as an actor was say that he wanted to go to a real American high school to get the feel of it. They sent him to Bronx Science, which was one of the eight. Again, a quick google search and this would not be a complaint. They steal nothing from Miles here. We could also argue that the specialised high schools aren’t, in fact, full of gifted students just like a charter school either because there are always going to be people who lag behind their peers, but this is still not something that is technically stolen from Miles.

“He needs to stay in NYC.”  This is true. His webs don’t work in an open area like the airport in Civil War. Why did they make him travel around Europe in FFH? For what reason? Absolutely none, put him back in his city

“There isn’t enough of a relationship with Aunt May.”  They put very few scenes with her. She definitely should have more of a relationship with him, but from what we do see, she clearly loves him and worries about him as much as any mother (figure) would. Aunt May has always been a support for Peter, whether she knows about him being Spider-Man or not. It’d still be real nice if they included more of her.

”Uncle Ben isn’t included and he’s an integral part of Peter’s character.” It’s most likely that Marvel didn’t want to do the origin story again and just implied that it already happened. They could definitely mention him at least once but they don’t. Uncle Ben’s death is the driving factor of Peter’s vigilante activities. Even if it isn’t the same in the MCU, he still keeps the same words in his heart. Rather than saying the motto as it’s always been, he puts it in different words in CA:CW. “ When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you.” It’s a different way of saying “with great power comes great responsibility,” but it’s a more clear way of Peter saying that he literally blames everything on himself. If he doesn’t fight the aliens, it’s his fault when people die. If he doesn’t stop Toomes from stealing tech, it’s his fault when criminals are able to gain access to weapons of destruction that will hurt the people in his community (Delmar). If he doesn’t fight Mysterio, people in Europe die and he’s at fault because he was right there and did nothing.

“He’s not poor.”  MCU Peter isn’t close to rich. He’s not even anywhere in the middle class. He moves in Far From Home because other people moved into their original apartment. If you haven’t seen it, Aunt May and Spider-Man are seen in the beginning holding an event to raise money for those in need of homes because they lost them due to the Blip. (Horrible name, but I didn’t name it.) Owning a high tech suit doesn’t fix his problems, nor does it mean he isn’t struggling. Being poor in NYC does not have to mean that you live in the projects. Y’all act like poor people have never stepped foot in a rich area in their lives. People can be poor and own gaming consoles, really nice cars, and own more than sufficient technology. In fact, the area where they film some of Homecoming is in the projects in Brooklyn. Right outside his window you can see buildings that are from the exact same projects. Just because the apartment looks nice and paint isn’t peeling off the walls, it doesn’t mean he’s not poor. People in the projects are poor, not slobs. 

There’s also the argument that they aren’t struggling with money. if we’re watching the films from Peter’s perspective, we’ll see things how he sees them. He’s an optimist, so everything seems perfectly fine as someone who sees the world that way. He never loses hope that things might work out, so it’s possible that any financial aspect regarding his living space may not seem like a huge issue to him. For most poor people, they are able to pay for their living space. It’s the first priority and sometimes a worry, but once that’s out of the way, the real problems are everything else. 

Conclusion

MCU Peter doesn’t actually steal as much from Miles as people claim. Ganke is definitely a stolen part of Miles’ story. While he does take the mentor/father figure aspect that he normally doesn’t in the comics, it’s not like he’s never had a mentor/father figure in the comics. The fact that he’s young explains a good portion of why he acts the way he does and why he likes the things he likes. It could be said that this is something that he takes from Miles because comics Peter is usually older, but there have been younger versions of Peter over the years (Spectacular Spider-Man) and those work out just fine. His age is not a good criticism of his character, but you don’t have to like it.

That being said, you are allowed to enjoy the character while being aware that the MCU is stealing things from Miles and giving them to MCU Peter. You are also allowed to dislike MCU Peter for the same reasons while being aware that the general public would hate an MCU Miles on the basis of being an Afro-Latino. If the rumours about the MCU doing a Spider-verse are true, it would unfortunately be another thing that the MCU takes from Miles. No matter how well they manage to execute it and how much you enjoy it, do not forgive these assholes for it.

I think we can all agree that ITSV is a masterpiece as both a film and as a work of art. 

In all universes, Marvel and irl people please give Peter Parker a fucking break

Credit: @viokio @sanarastone For all the help on writing and dealing with reminders to look at it almost every day for the last week: @nedimwatchingpornleeds And thanks to everyone else who helped proofread

[babbushka]

The Rabbi Is Coming

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

A/N: This oneshot is based entirely off of one of my favorite videos of all time, Company is Coming by Chris Fleming. Every time I see it, it reminds me of preparing for my own family holiday gatherings, so I’ve taken it and run with it lol. I just wanted to write something short and silly for Passover, lol, and I hope you enjoy! 

Also inspired by this prompt sent in by anonymous: From your Passover prompts, will you please do this one for Flip? It sounds just like him!“They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.”

2k, crack treated seriously lol, humor. Putting a small cw for the Zimmerman’s son, in case folks don’t like reading about kids (this is the last time he’s mentioned for a while I promise lol)

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

Early in the morning, just after sunrise, Flip yawns and stretches awake. The golden light of morning shines through the curtains that gently move from the breeze of the ceiling fan, and a melody of chirping birds signal the official start of morning. Despite having to get up early for work every day, Flip isn’t much of a morning person. But something about Springtime and the warmth that’s on the way makes him appreciate getting up, even on the weekends.  

“Good morning, sunshine, light of my life – ” Flip rolls over onto his side, ready to coax you out of your sleep as well, ready to kiss you and start the day together, but when he reaches you’re your sleep-snuggled body, he finds the bed empty, and frowns.

Sitting up, he looks around the bedroom. Your side of the covers are neatly made, and Flip can only blink, his frown deepening. He clears his throat, raspy from disuse overnight, “(Y/N)?”

It isn’t until he hears the vacuum cleaner going downstairs, followed by a frustrated groan echoing through the house, that he remembers just what day it is, and falls back onto his pillow with a wince, lighting up a cigarette and scrubbing a hand over his face with a low,

“…Oh shit.”

He checks the clock, sees that it’s practically seven o’clock, and gets out of bed. Pulling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he leaves his room to see his son standing tentatively in his own doorway, as loud sounds come from downstairs.

“Pop?” The five year old asks with no small amount of hesitation in his voice, immediately reaches for Flip, who scoops him up and balances him on his hip.  

“Mornin’ honey.” Flip kisses his son’s cheek, and the boy giggles, clinging to him as Flip walks down the stairs.

He’s obviously annoyed that it’s not you who gets to wake him up and carry him downstairs, as he normally prefers, but Flip doesn’t know how to tell him that today isn’t a normal day. Still, the boy is always filled with questions, and his little eyebrows furrow into an all too familiar frown as they move closer to the chaos that is you deciding to vacuum first thing in the morning.

“Why is Mama acting like that?” He demands to know, as the two of them stop at the landing, watching as you, still in your pajamas, are fighting with furniture.

“Tonight’s the first night of Pesach.” Flip explains.

“So?” His son challenges, and Flip wants to laugh, because he agrees with the kid, but when you get into a mood like this, there’s no stopping you.

“So, there’s a very special guest coming for dinner tonight, and she wants to make sure the house looks nice and clean for him.” Flip sets the boy down, and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to assess the validity of that, eventually settling on complaining,

“But we already cleaned the house.”

Flip sighs, because he’s right, you spent the entire week cleaning to prepare for Passover. It wasn’t like a normal house cleaning, Passover had special rules that had to be obeyed. One of which, was the complete and total elimination of chametz, or food made from leavened dough. The other, was the koshering of the kitchen.

But he wasn’t so sure his five year old would care to hear about all that this early.

“I know son. Let’s go see what she fixed up for breakfast,” Flip leads his son through the living room carefully, before crouching down to his level and saying very seriously, “And then when you’re done eating, just do whatever Mama says, you hear me? Whatever she says.”

Just then, you come barreling through the living room with the vacuum and a tangle of cord in your hand, shouting at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour, “Zeeskiet if you haven’t made your bed just throw it away it’s too late to make it now!”

The boy looks up at Flip, and Flip immediately shakes his head and amends, “Not that.”

Flip is a good helper. He likes to help, and he wants to help, but sometimes when you get like this, it’s a danger to himself and everyone around for him to try and insert himself into a situation where you are a hurricane of anxious energy. He busies himself with getting your son settled at the kitchen table, giving him a big breakfast of fresh fruit, nuts, and yogurt, before bracing himself to venture back towards the dining room.  

“The Rabbi is coming – get rid of the couches we can’t let people know we sit!” You shout, pointing an aggressive finger at one of the dining chairs, “This chair needs to be pushed in, there cannot be any signs of living in this house.”

Flip is quick to do as you say, even though what you’re saying is nonsense – he knows better than to point that out.

“I don’t care if we have to throw everything out,” You’re mostly talking to yourself at this point, just…loudly, and aggressively, “I want this place looking like a contemporary fusion restaurant by noon.”

It was a miracle and a half that the Rabbi agreed to lead your Seder dinner, and to say that the pressure was getting to you was the understatement of the century. You had everything picked out, what you were going to wear, what Flip and the kids were going to wear; you’d been cooking and prepping all week, and now the day was finally here and you were totally freaking out.

“Flip?” You shout, walking in circles around the dining room, trying to get rid of any possible point of contamination of chametz.

“Yeah?” Flip replies, already knowing that because he’s in the other room, you probably can’t hear him. He already is walking towards you when he hears you again.

“Phil!” You call a little sharper, and Flip huffs out a laugh, his suspicion correct.

“I’m right here ketsl, what can I do?” Flip startles you by suddenly being behind directly behind you, and you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“Oh my god – we need more pillows.” You gesture to the den where the conversation pit is decked out entirely with pillows. “Can you fluff the pillows? I need these things looking fluffed.”

Flip does exactly as he’s told, and the rest of the morning follows suit.

You wandered around the house cleaning; vacuuming sweeping dusting sanitizing every possible surface, the floors, even the ceiling, shouting out random demands and requests like:

We need more flowers. We gotta put flowers in every window. Philly can you put flowers in the kitchen?

We can’t have any clothes! Everyone take off your clothes!

At that, your son cast a semi-distressed look to Flip and asked, an uncertain, “Pop?”

“Not that either!” Flip immediately answered, lest his son think it’s okay to go running around in the nude tonight.

Somewhere around hour two, your mood shifts from manic to meltdown. Your son had been instructed to make sure his toys were all nicely put away in his room, mostly to keep him out of trouble or to prevent any accidental tripping over wires. Flip though, is still running around trying to keep up with you, out of breath from your own chaos.

“What is this?” You yank the perfectly good little towel out of the oven door handle where Flip had just watched you place it, and near-tears, you groan, “This is a dish towel! We need a hand towel! What are we, barbarians?”

He’s about to say something, try to console you or at the very least calm you down, but then you come to a complete and sudden stand-still and point out, “Phil oh god there’s muffins on the counter.”

Frowning, Flip whirled around and wondered how the fuck those even got there. All of your friends knew that there was absolutely no leavened product allowed in the house, Rabbi or no, and he’s trying to wrack his brain around where they came from as you back against the wall.

“Oh my god oh – that’s it -- we have to go into the witness protection program folks!” You chuckle humorously, effectively giving up. “Shalom Rabbi! Welcome to the Zimmerman household. We live outside. We eat mud. And sticks.”

At this, you give one big overwhelmed sigh, and a little sob hiccups out of your chest.

“Hey,” Flip frowns, kicking himself for not trying to get you to take a breather earlier than this, “Hey it’s going to be okay.”

Flip gets down on the floor with you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You shove your face under his neck and cry it out, and Flip soothes your back. He knows how big of a deal tonight is for you, and he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, but letting this go on any longer won’t be good for anyone.

“I’ll get rid of the muffins, we won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” He pulls you to face him, your eyes wet and wide, your chin wobbling. He thinks you’re so ridiculous, working yourself up like this, but he loves you so much to see it regardless.

“Did you fluff the pillows?” You ask in a small sad voice, and Flip nods seriously, brushing some of your stray locks that escaped the scarf you have wrapped around your head to protect your hair, away from your face.

“Yes ketsl, I fluffed the pillows.” He kisses each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead.

“Okay, alright okay, everyone calm down.” You say, wiping your tears away and taking deep measured breaths, suddenly asking, “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Flip cranes his head around to try and catch a good glimpse at the clock on the wall, wondering how the hell it’s only, “Nine-thirty.”

You blink, and blink again, and then shuffle to sit upright there on the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” You reply, pursing your lips and scratching the side of your jaw. “In that case…I’m going to take a nap.”

Flip chuckles and lets you go. You’re too much all the time, and that’s exactly why he loves you. He’s never met anyone who cares as much about something like this, than you, and he wants you to go relax while he takes care of everything.

And he does, his son a proper helper as you snooze in bed, already having worked yourself to exhaustion and needing your strength back for the long dinner that’s going to come. The offending muffins are given to a neighbor, the surfaces re-sanitized, the kitchen all prepared. Your son even sets the table all by himself, enjoying being tall for his age thanks to Flip’s genetics.

When evening falls much later, and all your other guests have arrived, you feel your pulse spike as the doorbell rings. You’re dressed to the nines, as is everyone else, but Flip thinks that you’re the most radiant thing in the universe. You’re holding your son on your hip as Flip opens the door, already extending a hand for him to shake.

“Shalom Rabbi, thank you so much for joining us tonight, we can’t tell you how much of an honor it is.” You beam, as if you hadn’t had a total breakdown only that morning, as Flip invites the Rabbi inside.

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, the honor is mine. And may I say, you have a beautiful home.” He looks around appreciatively, giving a nod of approval that has all the air rushing out of your lungs.

“I’m thrilled to hear you think so.” You grin, leading him through your home and into the dining room where your other guests have been happily entertaining themselves, “Shall we get started then?”

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Flip announces, and that has everyone laughing, including the Rabbi.

And as the Seder commences, Flip looks across the table and gives his son a wink. In return, he lets out a small giggling laugh, glad that all the preparations and chaos you put them through have successfully paid off.

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

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky​​ @sacklerscumrag​​ @artsymaddie​​ @bitchydecisions​​ @direnightshade​​ @reyloaddict55​​ @thembohux​​  @sunflowersinthesnow​​ @babayagakeanu​​ @safarigirlsp​​  @steeevienicks​​  @the-unmanaged-mischief​​ @materialisthicc​​  @hswritingrecs​​  @han68000​​ @rosi3ba3z​​ @chapterhappygirl​​​ @loverofallthings​​​  @bxnnywriting​ @groovetoob​ 

[houseof-harry]

Christmas Miracle | G.D.

A/N - anddddddd I’m back! Idk why, but I thought it was necessary for us to have a cheesy ass, Hallmark ass one shot that is filled with all the fluff and cuteness. So I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday moment and you enjoy the disgusting fluff I’m offering up

Word Count - 7.4k

Summary - Christmas in New York can be seen in one of two ways. It’s the most magical time of the year, snow falling, lights glimmering, joy rampant in the air. Or, the influx of tourists and people trying to sell you things ruins the entire month of December. Y/n tends to lean towards the latter. That is, until she get’s her Christmas miracle.

***

Your friends were lucky you loved them.

When they had first brought up the idea of you showing them around New York City during one of the most popular times of the year for tourism, you shut them down immediately. The holidays were difficult enough without leading around a group of lost puppies who would be acting like they had never seen Christmas lights before.

But they were convincing people, and were quick to offer you the many ways in which they could brighten your few weeks at home and possibly even change your view of the last few weeks of the year.

So, as you balanced finals and all of your other responsibilities as the semester came to an end, you and your friends planned out a trip through NYC that could honestly make a pretty decent Hallmark movie. They even convinced you to spend New Years in Time Square, despite your continued protest. You never saw the appeal of being packed into small gated areas for hours with a bunch of strangers to watch a ball drop, but they claimed that it was necessary to get the full experience. You also bargained that you would get to pick where spring break was if you went through with all of their plans.

You never liked feeling like Scrooge, but the holidays never brought positive memories back for you. Everything felt somewhat fraudulent to you. Fake smiles, meaningless gifts, ignoring the happenings of the rest of the year to act as though family was more important than anything, everyone suddenly devout Christians. You were a big advocate of always being true to who you are, and how you feel, year round. Not just when it is socially expected to do so in some performative, public way that puts up the facade that your life couldn’t be better.

You hoped your friends were right, that they could change the way you felt about the holidays. That maybe it would somehow feel more genuine with them.

So far, they've had some almost successful attempts. You indulged in gingerbread cookies, wore your fluffy winter jacket as you walked around with them to shop for your secret santa. You could even feel a bit of excitement as you picked out the perfect gift for Gia. She’d always say how much she loved leather watches, that she hoped to be able to afford one after graduation to wear to her first job. The smooth brown band you picked out earlier in Saks sat safely in your bag as you led everyone to one of the main attractions of their visit.

Soon enough, the massive, lit up tree came into view.

“Welcome to Rockefeller Center,” you announce as you turn to face everyone, hands held out as you watch them marvel at the scene in front of them, a scene they’ve only seen through screens.

“Wow,” Colin mutters under his breath. You swear you can see the lights from behind you twinkling in their eyes, and you can understand better why they wanted to come on this trip. Maybe you had become a bit numb to the Christmas happenings of the city after so many years of being around it. The obvious wonder on everyone’s faces made you wish you could see the tree for the first time all over again.

You turn to walk forward, afraid of bumping into the swarms of people that stand between you and the tree. As you do so, you feel Gia’s arm wrap around your shoulder to fall in step next to you.

“I knew we’d be able to get a smile on your face,” she teases as her free hand comes to your face to squeeze your cheeks.

You chuckle, wrapping your arm around her waist to keep her close as you squeeze your way through the crowd to get closer to the tree. “Just because I hate the holidays, doesn’t mean I don’t like seeing you guys happy. Even if it’s for a stupid tree.”

“It’s not stupid and you know it.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your rebuttal interrupted when you hear a squeal from behind you.

“We need a family picture in front of it!”

You turn around at Jo’s request to see her already getting her camera out from under her jacket.

“Here, I’ll take some,” you offer, holding your hand out.

“But then you won’t be in it,” she pouts.

“I have so many pictures of myself in front of this tree, I don’t need any more.”

She huffs, but knows you’re too stubborn to change your mind. She turns back to your group, who now stand in front of you, positioning everyone next to each other.

You bring the camera up to your face, making sure to get everyone in the frame, along with the tree. You start taking pictures of your friends, and you can’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you watch them genuinely enjoy the moment.

“I can take pictures of all of you if you want,” a gruff voice comes from your left, and your attention goes from the camera to the person standing close to you now.

Your eyes have to drag up from the man’s chest, him having a significant height advantage over you. He has a five o’clock shadow that covers his chin, a sharp jawline underneath. His smile shows off his white teeth, that same smile causing the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. Those same warm eyes are looking at you still, waiting for a response.

“Uh, I don’t-”

“Yes!” Jo responds for you, swinging her hand at the two of you standing there.

He holds his hands out, and you carefully place the expensive camera in his hands.

“Don’t drop it.”

He nods at your command as he inspects the buttons.

“Or steal it.”

This breaks his attention from the camera, his smile spreading wider as he chuckles. “I won’t.”

You let out a huff as you nod once, crossing your arms and turning to walk to your friends. You go to the end of the line, tucking yourself under Colin’s arm.

“Don’t drool all over me.”

You scoff, looking up at him. “What?”

“You’ve got heart eyes for our photographer, I’m surprised you couldn’t feel your jaw dragging on the floor as you came over here.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, hitting his chest as he laughs at you.

“Stop talking and smile!” Jo chastises, and you listen in the hopes of Colin dropping it.

You look back at the man who has the camera, and feel your cheeks blush as you make eye contact with him. You opt to look at the camera instead, trying to forget the fact that his eyes were undeniably on you.

He snaps a bunch of pictures of you guys, and as the mom friends Jo even made you do what she deems a “silly” one.

Once Jo is satisfied, she runs up to him, grabbing the camera with a quick and uninterested ‘thanks’ as she immediately starts scrolling through the pictures. Everyone gathers around, laughing and pointing at each other on the tiny screen.

“Thank you,” you say, standing next to him as you watch your friends leaning over Jo’s shoulder.

“No problem,” he smiles, also watching your group. “I hope they’re good enough for a Christmas card.”

You laugh, probably too loudly for how lame of a comment it was, but he seems to appreciate it.

You shake your head. “Knowing Jo, I’ll have an entire book of pictures by the end of this that she’ll insist I keep on my coffee table the rest of my life.”

He chuckles, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. He’s got a beanie covering his ears, and you can’t help but notice he looks better in it than you ever could.

“It’s nice having friends that feel like family. I’m glad you get to have them around for the holidays.”

It’s weird how that comment seems to sit with you. He knows nothing about you, but he’s right. How he knew you needed to hear that, you don’t know.

“Yeah,” you nod, biting your lip as you take in a breath through your nose to ground yourself. “Thanks again, uh…”

“Grayson.” One of his hands leaves his pockets, hanging in the air between the two of you. You take it, letting his fingers fold around your own hand. His skin is warm against yours, a nice change to the cool winds that have been gusting around you the entire day.

He raises his brow at you, and for a second you don’t know what he wants. He keeps your hand engulfed in his, and it hits you that he’s waiting to hear your name.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he says, almost testing it out as he lets your hand drop. “I like that.”

You giggle, your cheeks blushing as you realize the involuntary reactions he’s pulling from you. You’re not a giggler.

“Yo Gray!” Another deep voice comes from over your shoulder, and you turn to see someone who could be a clone of the man standing in front of you. “We gotta go.”

You’re not sure if you make up the sigh you think you hear come from his lips, hoping he was disappointed he had to leave, too.

“I hope you like the pictures.”

And as suddenly as he had appeared next to you, you were watching him jog over back to his own group of people as they disappeared behind the crowd.

“Don’t worry,” Colin’s grip was on your shoulder again as he stepped next to you. “Love is in the air this Christmas season. If it’s not him, it’s someone.”

“I’m Jewish.”

“And Christmas is barely about being Christian anymore. Everyone gets some Christmas joy.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you shake your head, leaning into him a bit. You appreciated his positivity, despite your pessimism. If Christmas miracles were real, your life would have played out very differently.

***

Cold.

That was all you could feel, think, see.

After your adventure at the tree, you planned to go ice skating. You had to, according to Jo. It would be a waste to be there and not go.

When you tried to get out of it, claiming to want to keep Kam company seeing as he had an ankle injury and couldn’t skate, everyone including Kam called you on your shit and made you get out on the ice.

Which you were pretty sure they were regretting now.

You’d never been confident on the ice, only skating a few times in your life. You couldn’t leave the edge, holding onto the side for dear life as you moved slowly around the rink. Your friends took shifts staying with you the rest skating at a more reasonable pace as they continued to lap you.

That is, until Colin and Gia start arguing about who’s better and decide to race, Jo trailing behind them to make sure they don’t knock any children down.

Despite your tight grip on the wall, without the help of your friends your balance fails you and before you knew what was happening, your feet were flailing beneath you. You’re surprised the ice didn’t crack as you fell, your body colliding with the cold, hard ice as your hand trailed down the wall.

You laid there a moment, partially in shame but mainly from the exhaustion of trying to keep yourself upright. You only open your eyes when you hear a chuckle from above you. When you do open them, however, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

“You alright?”

That same charming smile was looking down at you, Grayson’s hand held out in front of him in an offer to help you up.

You scramble to sit up, taking his hand, the other going to the ice as you start to slowly stand up. What you don’t expect is the amount of force he would use to help you, feeling the tug on your arm as he quickly gets you back to your feet.

It’s so quick that you can’t seem to get your footing, your skates scrambling on the slick ice again. Before you can take another tumble, though, his hand is leaving yours as you feel his grip on your waist. He manages to steady you, your palms resting on his chest to do your best to stay still for a moment. Your breathing is a bit jagged as you try to collect your thoughts, your brain jumbled from the events of the past minute, the close proximity to Grayson not helping.

“Uh.” Your mind is racing a mile a minute in order to catch up to where you were right now. Still against Grayson’s body, his face close to yours with a concerned look. His eyes seem to be tracking your own expressions as he tries to figure out if you’re hurt. “Yeah, think I’m good.”

You lean back against the wall, and he takes it as a sign to let go of you. Despite your multiple layers that separated your skin from his hands, you somehow feel a bit colder without him touching you.

“Bit of a hard fall there.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, nodding your head as you flush, realizing he saw the whole thing happen. “I’m not the best skater.”

“Interested in a lesson?” He holds his hand out to you.

You raise your brow, not moving from the safety of the wall. “You want to teach me?”

“Yeah, Y/N.”

You’re not sure why hearing your name from his mouth unprompted affected you so much, but you felt almost as if you were in a trance. It was like you couldn’t control yourself anymore, your hand falling easily into his.

“Why?”

For the first time since you met him, Grayson seemed to be a bit flustered. “I, uh, think it’s important everyone knows how to skate. It’s definitely a life skill,” he justifies, nodding and pursing his lips. “Plus, I used to play hockey. So I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not looking to learn how to body someone on ice.”

His laughter is loud as he leans forward a bit, his body closer to yours once again. His grip on your hand tightens, and it’s suddenly hard to believe you’ve gone your whole life without hearing him laugh. You can’t help your own laughter that falls from your lips in response to him, your eyes unable to leave his face.

“I’m just gonna teach you how to not fall,” he reassures through his smile. “I’ve seen people get seriously hurt falling.”

The reminder of possible injuries not only makes you aware of the dull ache you were feeling from your most recent fall, but also of the fact you were far away from the door of the rink.

Grayson notices the change in your attitude, his smile quickly fading. “Or I can just help you off the ice.”

His voice brings you back to reality as you take in a breath and look up at him. Despite the fear bubbling inside of you, the tendinitis in your joints screaming for you to stop, you can’t help but think about what Colin said before. Maybe this was your Christmas miracle.

“No, you’re right. It’s totally a life skill.”

The corners of his mouth turn up as nods before situating himself sideways next to you. “Alright, first things first you gotta remember to bend your knees.”

You uneasily push your body off the wall, your hand still gripping it. “Actually, first things first I have to turn the right direction.”

He chuckles and nods, standing there expectantly. You realize he’s waiting for you to do it yourself.

“I don’t know how.”

“Oh.” He switches his hands so you’re holding one farther from you. His now free arm reaches around your waist. “Can I?”

You nod, and you feel his firm grip on you once again. As soon as he starts to maneuver you, you squeal, tightening your hand on his as your other flies from the wall to cover his grip on your jacket.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m not usually such a little bitch.”

He laughs, and that’s when you realize how close you are again. You can feel his warm breath on the side of your face, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him in fear of totally freezing from making eye contact. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel so nervous yet so comfortable at the same time.

“You’re not a little bitch, you’re just getting used to the ice. You’ll be lapping me in no time.”

It’s your turn to laugh as you shake your head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m pretty sure my only goal should be to not eat shit.”

“We got this, then.”

Surprisingly enough, you guys managed to stay standing the whole time. After your first lap around, and partially to your disappointment, you were able to skate without his arm around you, the only support you needed coming from holding his hand and the occasional grip of the wall. The only time you came close to falling was when he taught you how to pick up speed, but even then you managed to stay on your feet.

What caught you most off guard, however, was how easily being around him was. Somehow it felt like you had known each other for years, your comfort level increasing every minute you spent together. You were able to laugh together, never a dull or quiet moment as he continued to guide you around the rink. You lost track of where your friends even were, nevermind how the lights around the rink were seemingly getting brighter as the sun went down.

“So who was that guy from before that looked like you?”

“My twin brother Ethan.”

At this point you two were skating at a normal speed, staying close to the wall for your sanity, but the only support you needed was him holding your hand.

“You guys are close?”

“Oh my god,” he laughs, shaking his head. You look over at him, smiling as you watch him try and put into words what he wants to explain. “Probably too close. We do everything together.”

“That’s gotta be nice, though.”

“It is. It’s good to always have someone like that,” he agrees. “Do you have any siblings?”

You nod, looking forward again. “Yeah, two brothers.”

“So you already know how to body people, it was just the on ice part you struggled with.”

You laugh. “Exactly, you just caught me in my moment of weakness.”

“Oh, so you would have bodied me otherwise?”

You look back over at him, letting your gaze go up and down his body as if you’re sizing him up. “Totally.”

Before he can respond, your body is being jerked as you feel Gia’s arm fall over your shoulder. You grip Grayson’s hand hard to stay standing.

“As much as I hate to be the party pooper, I’ve gotta steal you away. Jo’s freaking about us being late for the dinner res.”

Both Grayson and Gia stop skating, but you move forward with the momentum you had built up. Stopping hadn’t been a part of the day's lesson.

You fall backwards between the grip they both had on you. You’re not even sure what your hands start reaching for as you flail around, expecting the cold of the ice under your body just like before.

Instead, you feel two strong arms under you. When you open your eyes, Grayson’s face is so close to yours you’re sure you would see any imperfections if he had them. His eyebrows are high on his forehead as he searches your face just like last time, looking for a status update.

“Oh my god, I’m totally ruining the Christmas miracle right now, aren’t I?”

Grayson does what he can to keep a straight face due to the concern he still had for you, but he can’t stop the snort that comes from him as you groan and cover your face in embarrassment from Gia’s comment.

“Giovannina, I swear on my life, I will literally-”

“I’m sorry!” Grayson stands you back up making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go of you. “Jo’s got her murder eyes, you know the ones, and she’s been looking forward to this restaurant all week and we waited as long as possibly because-” she looks at Grayson. “You seem fabulous, truly. So cute. But,” she looks back at you, puppy dog eyes fully activated. “You know how Jo gets.”

You let out a sigh, nodding your head. “I do.”

She sheepishly holds her hands out for you, and you bregudgely take them, making sure you exaggerate your frustrations. It’s not Gia’s fault, or even Jo’s that your time with Grayson had to get cut short, but that doesn’t mean you won’t throw a fit about it.

“Thank you for finally teaching her how to skate. She’s a woman of many talents, but being on ice is not one of them,” Gia chuckles, her smile genuine but your annoyance only building. Gia’s intentions are always pure, but god damn she was a bad wingman.

Fortunately, Grayson smiles in agreement as he looks at you. “It was a rough beginning, but I think you’ve got potential.” He nudges your shoulder with his lightheartedly, but you tense in fear of falling over.

“Sure, lots of potential,” you mumble, letting Gia slowly start to pull you to the exit.

“Hey, is there any way I could-”

“Y/N!”

You all turn to see Jo standing in front of Colin and Kam, and you’re pretty sure you can also see the vein popping out of the side of her neck in distress as she tries to rush you along. You make a mental note to figure out who has her for secret santa to tell them to get her a voucher to a spa.

You turn back to look at Grayson, both of you standing there somewhat speechless, not sure what to say and not wanting to speak over the other.

“Thanks for looking out for her again!” Gia interrupts, tugging you along and forcing you to turn back around.

You let her pull you along in silence, disappointment quickly settling in the pit of your stomach.

This wasn’t you. You were very intentional with who you let in your life, and even more intentional with who you liked. You were notoriously single, always prioritizing everything and everyone before putting yourself in a position to get hurt. You let rationality rule, emotions only ever proving to cause pain and heartbreak.

So why the fuck were you so caught up in Grayson?

***

You did your best to not think about him, the illusive man you met one day two weeks ago. You had so much to distract yourself with, too. Between the Christmas celebration you guys did, the other activities Jo had planned around the city, and just spending time with people you loved, you should have been able to forget Grayson in a day, go back to how life was before he offered to take pictures for you.

Even Jo picked up on how you were off. You were going through with every stupid craft or activity she made you do, without a complaint. She knew something was up.

Which is why she conceded on one of her biggest wishes, one she knew you were not looking forward to.

“So I found us a house party for New Years.”

You look up from your phone at her declaration, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Instead of going out on the street for New Years, we’ll go to a party in one of the apartments nearby.” She’s got everyone's attention now, Kam pausing the show on the TV to listen. “We’ll still be able to see the ball drop, but we’ll be inside.”

“How’d you find a party? Those apartments are mad nice, only rich people live in them.”

“You know how my sister’s out in LA trying to be a model?”

You nod.

“Well, it’s kind of working. She’s gotten herself a group of influencer friends, successful ones. They’re here for New Year’s, so she got us on the list.”

“Holy shit,” Gia mutters.

“Is Madison Beer gonna be there?” Kam asks.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Dude, even if she is, there’s no way she’d fuck you.”

Kam scoffs, flipping you off. “Don’t be an ass just because your Christmas miracle was a fail. Some of us don’t hate the world.”

“There’s no such thing as Christmas miracles, Kam. Plus, it’s past Christmas.”

“Alright, alright,” Colin interrupts, holding his hands up between the two of you. “First off,” he points at you. “Christmas miracles are definitely real, you’re just a Grinch. And,” he turns to point at Kam. “Madison Beer is way out of your fucking league.”

“Ha!”

“However,” Colin cuts you off. “If she did fuck you, I would classify that as a Christmas miracle because it is still holiday time and therefore the rules of Christmas miracles still apply.”

You throw your hands up in confusion, but Jo beats you to it. “What are the rules of Christmas Miracles?”

“Oh jesus,” you mumble under your breath as Colin sits up straighter and clears his throat.

“The rules are as follows,” he holds up a finger. “If you can find a shitty, holiday themed movie on the Hallmark channel, it’s Christmas-time and therefore a Christmas miracle can happen. They usually run through New Years, so you both-” he points at you and Kam, “have the opportunity for your Christmas miracles.”

“I cannot believe-”

“Second,” he interrupts you, holding up a second finger. “Christmas miracles come to people who deserve them.”

“Oh, so that’s why Y/n’s didn’t work out?” Kam murmurs, and you flip him off.

“Kam, your already low odds of fucking Madison Beer are dwindling by the second.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up in defeat. “Keep going.”

“Y/n is totally deserving of a Christmas miracle,” Gia defends you. “She puts so much time into making sure we’re happy. Just because she doesn’t like Christmas, doesn’t mean she’s not deserving.”

“Exactly G,” Colin nods in approval, before putting up a third finger. “And lastly, you have to believe you deserve the Christmas miracle.” It feels like he’s staring into your soul when he says that one.

You all sit there in silence, individually deciding how much you want to believe what Colin is saying.

Of course it sounds like a load of horse shit. But, it didn’t feel like horseshit when you were with Grayson.

“Whatever,” you declare, standing up. “I need more.” You swirl your now empty mug, walking over to the hot chocolate and peppermint vodka on the counter.

“A little joy never hurt anyone, Y/n,” Kam comments, holding his empty mug out to you as you walk by. You take it from him, putting them down on the counter once you reach it.

“You’d be surprised.”

***

You’re not sure how Gia convinced you that a skimpy outfit was the perfect idea to wear for New Years, yet here you were, shivering to the bone as you walked down the street.

You don’t even like wearing heels most of the time, out of fear of falling down. Gia claims you look confident when you wear them, which you reveal to her is fake. That’s always been your motto: ‘fake it ‘till you make it.’ That didn’t seem to sway her, though, so the stilettos that now dug into your pinky toes were what you committed to for the entirety of the evening.

Colin’s arm around your shoulder wasn’t helping to warm you any, your faux fur coat letting the cool breeze still brush against your skin. Your small black tank top tucked into your matching black jeans were not made to be worn in the 20 degree weather. You kept your body close to him, your arm wrapped around his waist with your free hand in Gia’s.

“We’re gonna have the best night!”

You smile at Gia’s excitement, her eyes seeming to sparkle with the lights that line the street. Other groups of partiers and New Year’s Eve celebrators make it hard to hear her over their loud screaming and excitement, and you can’t help but let that energy invigorate you a bit. You guys were getting closer to the end of your break, reality would be setting in soon, and you’d be buckling down with school again. You wanted to enjoy the time you had left with your friends.

“I’m so excited to see who’s there,” Kam agrees.

“You can’t be weird about it, though,” Jo warns. “My sister said we have to act like we’re supposed to be there. This is a private thing, they want to have a normal New Year’s Eve.”

“I promise I’ll be my normal self,” Kam holds his hands up in defense, a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” she mumbles, causing Kam to give her a light shove as you continue to make your way down the street.

When you finally reach the entrance of the building Jo’s sister told you to come to, you’re all speechless. You could see the lobby of the building through the glass doors, and it was fancier than any hotel you’d ever stayed in before.

Jo makes the move first, opening the door and walking in. Kam grabs it from her, holding it for the rest of you as you file in behind her, like a group of ducklings following their mom blindly across the pond.

She speaks with the woman at the front desk, who points you to the hallways where you assume the elevators are. None of you speak as she walks you over and presses the button.

When an elevator finally arrives, there’s an attendant waiting for you inside. You’d had the opportunity to indulge in many extravagant things in life, and have taken those opportunities, but this was a whole other level of fancy.

Jo has a similar conversation with the attendant that she did with the woman at the front desk. He does something on his Ipad before smiling at you all and pressing a button that prompts the doors to close.

“Holy. Fuck,” Colin whispers in your ear, and all you can do is look at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

When the doors open in front of you, the silence from the ride up in the elevator is immediately permeated by the bustle of the party in front of you.

“Have a good time!” The attendant says as you all slowly step across the gap in the floor and into one of the nicest apartments you think you had ever seen in your life.

There’s a few dozen people working their way around the room, no more than 50. You can appreciate the smaller crowd, knowing that being on the street would have been significantly more uncomfortable with the amount of people who gather there every year.

“Jojo!” Katherine’s high pitched voice breaks through the music as you see Jo’s bubbly sister make her way over to you guys.

“Hey Kath,” she murmurs, already being suffocated in a hug.

Katherine pulls away, keeping her hands on Jo’s shoulder in order to keep her close. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I know,” Jo grimaces. “That’s what happens when you move across the country and rarely call anyone.”

Katherine almost misses a beat, but instead turns to the rest of you.

“It’s so of nice you guys could come! I can’t imagine what it would have been like...out there,” she trails off, looking towards the large windows that overlook Times Square.

Jo mutters ‘“authentic” under her breath as Gia cries out “cold!”

“Exactly!” Katherine turns back to you guys. “I knew I always liked you, Gigi.”

“It’s Gia.”

“Whatevs, Jojo. Go in and get cozy! And don’t embarrass me, please.” It’s scary the smile Katherine has on her face as she disappears back into the crowd. It would look genuine to the naked eye, but she almost looked dead inside when you took a closer look. But, in the wise words of Katherine herself, ‘whatevs.’

“I see the bar,” Colin nods his chin in the opposite direction that Katherine went, and you’re grateful you won’t have to see her so soon again.

“Please,” is all Jo squeaks out before making a beeline for the counter where the bartender stood.

You chuckle, following closely behind.

“The usual?”

You shake your head, stepping up next to Jo to order your own drink instead. “A moscow mule, please.”

You can feel all eyes on you, curiosity peaking at your change of heart. You never strayed from your normal order.

“What?” You ask defensibly, as you turn around to confront their questioning looks.

“Going rogue?” Kam asks.

“Trying out the holiday joy you suggested, Kam. Any objections?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p,’ his smile widening as he realizes you’re letting your walls down for once.

That doesn’t last long after your drink is in your hand, however.

There’s Grayson. Your Christmas miracle. Sitting on the couch, a girl in his lap and a smile on his face. He looks good in a turtleneck, you note, but that doesn’t stop the queasiness settling in your stomach. You knew Christmas miracles were horseshit, but this just felt like a cruel trick.

“What’s with the frown?” Kam asks, standing next to you as everyone else situates themselves with a drink.

“Don’t look right now, but behind you is my supposed Christmas miracle with a girl in his lap.”

Kam whips his head around, scanning the room.

“Dude are you kidding? I said don’t turn,” you grip his arm, forcing him to turn back, but not before he’s spotted the cozy couple. The look of pity on his face unsettles you.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, taking a sip from your drink. “Don’t be, I knew him for an hour. I will, however, be calling Colin on his shit later.”

“What shit?” Colin asks, coming to stand next to you.

“Your Christmas miracle bullshit.”

A laugh bubbles up from his chest as he quirks a brow. “Oh really?” “Yeah, Grayson’s over there with a girl-”

“Damn, for how quickly obsessed you became with the kid, you really are forgetful.”

You give Colin a question look, waiting for him to continue.

“He has an identical twin. Your Christmas miracle is standing against the staircase. He’s been looking at you since we got to the bar.”

Your turn your head and sure enough, your eyes are locked with Grayson’s. He’s just as captivating as last time, his warm smile on his face once he realizes he’s been spotting. Unlike last time, however, instead of shying away from the eye contact, you can’t seem to stop looking.

“Remember, you have to believe you deserve the Christmas miracle,” Colin whispers in your ear before giving you a not so gentle shove in Grayson’s direction.

“You’re lucky I’m not a violent person,” you say over your shoulder, before making your way over to him. You can feel the excitement tingling in your fingertips that grip your drink as you do your best to be polite to the people you bump into on your way.

Once you’re close enough, Grayson pushes himself off the banister, creating a space for you to stand between the wooden sticks and his large body.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

His voice is deeper than you remember, more delicious if possible. It feels familiar hearing him speak, a comfort you didn’t know you had been missing.

“You’re supposed to say that when you expect to see someone, not when you’re actually surprised.”

He lets out a low laugh, nodding in defeat. “Okay, true. It’s a good surprise, though - at least for me.” He seems a bit less smooth than last time, too. You can feel the nerves coming off him, his confidence lower. You wonder if it’s got to do with the environment you’re in.

You smile up at him, licking your lips in order to drag out the unknown a bit longer. You can’t give it all up right away.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “A real good surprise.”

“Good.”

“Although, you know I gotta ask it.”

His smile falters as he raises his brow. “I think I gotta ask the same thing.”

“You first,” you nod your chin at him, crossing your arms.

“Ethan and I are a friend of a friend to one of the host’s friends. We’re normally not in Jersey for New Year’s, so when they found out we’d be celebrating alone in our mom’s house, we got an invite.”

“A Jersey kid?” You feign disgust, making him laugh as he leans his arm over your head. He smells good, his scent overriding your thoughts for a moment.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You shrug. “Usually. I guess I’ll overlook it, though.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” he answers cockily.

You giggle, shaking your head at the cheesy comment. “Are you offering me somewhat of a free trial?”

“More like endless coupons with no expiration date.”

This makes you fully laugh, him chuckling with you as you feel your cheeks heat up at the implication of his words.

“You barely know me,” you counter, still unable to look away from his eyes. “What makes you so sure about offering such a good deal to me?”

He shrugs. “Call it a gut feeling.”

You feel your own stomach go crazy at that, the confirmation that he was feeling what you were only heightening how his warmth seemed to radiate off him, everything Grayson flooding your senses.

“Your turn.”

“Hm?” You hum, bringing your drink to your lips.

“What’s gotten you into Madison Beer’s apartment?”

You choke on the liquid you intended on swallowing, coughing to clear your throat. His brows furrow as he brings his hand from above you to your back, rubbing it.

“Oh my god - sorry - I just,” you take in a big breath before standing up straight again, more confident in your lungs. “This is Madison Beer’s apartment?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking around the room. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. “Jo’s sister -”

“Murder eyes Jo?”

“Exactly. She’s been out in LA modeling. When she heard we were gonna be in New York for New Year’s she got us in. This -” you gesture to the room, noticing the more familiar faces you’re seeing now that you’re paying attention. “Totally not my normal scene.”

“So you’re giving everything new a shot right before the year ends?”

“Mhm,” you bring your gaze back to him. “In case I want to take it back and act like it never happened.”

He laughs, licking over his teeth. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

***

It was stupid how well you got along. You didn’t even see any of your other friends the entire night, Grayson keeping you tucked in the corner. You hoped Kam had somehow ran into Madison at some point, but you weren’t inclined enough to leave Grayson to help him with it.

It felt like you guys were somehow meant to be there that night together. Maybe Colin was onto something, maybe this was your (belated) Christmas miracle.

“It was total fate, I’m telling you. The odds we were able to get Mando on our team in the first place, nevermind him being one of the most important people in our lives now.” Grayson shakes his head as he recalls the memories, a reminiscent smile on his face. “You believe in all that, right?”

“What?” You hum, admiring his positivity. Every story, every glimpse into his life he’s given you throughout the night, has all ended in a positive twist. He managed to see the bright side of every situation, despite the horrible shit that’s been thrown his way.

“Fate.”

You sit up a bit straighter, your elbows leaving where they rested on your thighs. Your knee was touching his, your proximity close on the couch due to the amount of people who were sitting there with you. You felt like you were in a bit of a bubble, though. Despite the loud chatter from all around you, the only thing you could pay attention to was Grayson.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” you set your cup down before leaning back against the cushion. His arm that was resting on the top of that cushion drops, landing on your shoulder casually, but you can feel the warmth it immediately brings. “I never really did. I’ve always been the pessimist of the bunch. However,” your eyes find Colin, who’s sat to Grayson’s back. He gives you a wide smile and two thumbs up. You can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your own face as you look back at Grayson. “I’ve recently become a bit of a believer. Why?”

He shrugs. “I mean, what are the odds we not only had the same skate time at one of the most popular skating rinks in the world, but we also then end up at the same New Year’s Eve party?”

You huff, starting to think. “Well, statistically speaking -”

“No,” he laughs, nudging your leg with his own. “Fate isn’t about statistics, or probability. There’s nothing explainable about it.”

“My friend Colin is calling it a Christmas miracle,” you admit.

“So that’s what your friend meant when she interrupted us on the ice?”

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your face in the same manner as last time, shaking your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, grabbing one of your wrists to expose your face to him again. “Don’t worry about it, it was funny.”

“It shouldn’t have been funny, though,” you whine, a pout forming on your lips.

He cocks his head to the side, a smirk settling on his face. “What should it have been?”

Before you can respond, the countdown from 60 begins, and suddenly everyone is standing and chanting around you, buzzing to start the new year.

58, 57, 56, 55

Grayson stands, holding a hand out for you to take. You place your hand in his, standing right next to him, there being little room for you two between the couch and the coffee table causing your chests to be pressed against one another. You look up at him, the same warm eyes he’s had for you meeting your gaze again.

“Romantic.”

“Huh?” He leans closer to you, his ear so close to your mouth that you were tempted to nip his earlobe.

“It should have been romantic.”

24, 23, 22, 21

He lifts his head so he can look at you again, close enough for his nose to brush against yours. One of his hands reaches around you, finding a resting spot on your lower back. His other hand comes to your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin there. You grip his sweater at his sides, keeping him close to you.

“Ten, nine, eight,” Grayson starts counting down with the rest of the party, and you follow suit.

As everyone screams around you, celebrating the new year, you feel Grayson’s lips on yours. It feels like a movie, like the world is celebrating how amazing you guys feel right now as you finally physically connect with the person it feels like you were always meant to be with.

His lips are warm and smooth against yours, his every intention clear as he kisses you with a passion you’ve never experienced before. Your every nerve is on fire, your heart in flames as you keep yourself grounded by the grip you have on him.

He only pulls away as you feel champagne fall on the both of you, the confetti that was launched now sticking to you from the liquid. You can’t help the laugh that comes out of you at the craziness of it all, the fact that you just kissed the man in front of you, the man still in your grip, the man who still had his hands on you hard to comprehend.

Colin was right. Christmas miracles were most certainly real, and you deserved this one.

Grayson smirks down at you, leaning down to peck your lips once more before speaking. “Romantic enough for you?”

[cdyssey]

Regret

Summary: When Fran doesn't come down to breakfast after spraining her ankle, the whole house is concerned for her—especially Niles and Mr. Sheffield. Set after "An Affair to Dismember."

A/N: Okay, so I've binge re-watched nearly four seasons of The Nanny in four days, and had to get at least one fic out of my system, lmao.

Fran Drescher's acting in "An Affair to Dismember" when she suddenly broke while talking to Maxwell made me sensitive. ;-;

AO3 Link

—

Breakfast is a remarkably boring affair without Miss Fine bursting through the door, raising her arms in a floral robe, and proclaiming, with signature adenoidal stylings, “Good moooorning, everyone!” 

The clink of silverware, the scraping of ceramic plates, the ruffling sound of Mr. Sheffield anxiously attacking the New York Times like a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play has just dropped—all of it is so terribly drab that Niles spends the first fifteen minutes of her pronounced absence coughing loudly in the hopes that his employer will pick up the hint to do something about it.

“Oh, do go get a bloody cough drop, old man,” he finally snaps, smacking his newspaper down on the table. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Sorry, sir,” Niles arches a brow as he refills Mr. Sheffield’s coffee mug. “I have asthma.”

He turns away to replace the coffee pot on the side table.

“And half a mind to kick your tetchy derrière,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that, Niles?”

“Nothing, sir! Just saying thank you for your attentive care.”

“Dad,” Master Brighton thankfully interrupts, “where’s Fran, and what have you done to make her mad this time?”

Niles immediately turns around again in time to see his boss’s shoulders straighten in that way they often do when he’s indignant.

Or guilty.

Or some mixture of them both.

“I beg your pardon, Brighton,” he replies stiffly. “Why do you immediately assume I’m the problem here?”

“Process of elimination,” Brighton shrugs. “Fran’s not mad at me, Maggie, or Grace, and Niles is one of her closest friends.”

“You’re so astute, Master Brighton,” Niles smiles wryly as he moves to the left to get a better view of Mr. Sheffield’s face. The vein in his temple is beginning to throb, which is always a good time.

“She hasn’t dated anyone recently,” Miss Margaret pipes up.

“And she’s always fighting with her ma,” Miss Grace adds, “but that's never kept her from Belgian waffles before.”

“So, Dad,” Brighton grins, patting his father once on the back, “unless our math is wrong, that leaves you.”

“Goodness me,” Mr. Sheffield mutters, angrily stabbing a piece of link sausage with his fork. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of the lost Hardy Boy.”

“So you did do something!” Margaret exclaims. 

“No! I bloody well did not, Nancy Drew. For your information, Miss Fine accidentally hurt her ankle clubbing last night with Val. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ve called a doctor to come by just to check.”

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t offer to pick her up Cinderella-style and swoop her downstairs so she wouldn’t miss breakfast?” Niles asks chidingly, only to be greeted with a nasty glare.

“Yes, I did offer to bring her down to breakfast as a matter of fact... but Miss Fine seemed strangely subdued when I spoke to her through the door... I didn’t know what to make of it to tell you the truth...”

Mr. Sheffield’s brow contracts as he searches Niles’s face for an answer, and Niles stares back just as studiously, observing the profound concern in his employer’s dark eyes.

The gentleness.

The romance.

The stunningly oblivious care.

Niles sighs fondly.

Unlike Miss Babcock, he’s never had the heart to kick poor puppies when they’re down.

“I’ll bring her Advil and a fresh ice pack,” he promises. “Perhaps some pain relief will help her to regain her spirit.”

“I hope so,” Mr. Sheffield replies, self-consciously turning to his plate again, the tips of his ears rather pink. “I hate when Miss Fine isn’t feeling well.”

“Here, here,” the whole table concurs.

—

Twenty minutes later, Niles is at Miss Fine’s door with a silver tray laden with all the essentials: painkillers, an ice pack, a mug of coffee (milk instead of cream and extra sugar), and a copy of the new edition of Gloss. He lightly taps on her door with the side of his loafer.

“Miss Fine, can I come in?”

“No,” comes an immediate and sharp reply. “I’m not dressed!”

“How discouraging,” Niles sighs smilingly. “What ever shall I do?”

“Suff’a, and at least give me a minute to find a brassiere.” 

“Oh, we’ll be here all day then.”

He hears a strange thud, a collection of evaluations (“dirty, dirty, slutty, Maggie’s, dirty”), and an assortment of Yiddish curse words he now vaguely recognizes from being friends with Miss Fine for nearly four years now. And then finally— 

“Come in, Jeeves, but shut the door behind ya ‘cuz I haven’t applied a morning layer of lipstick yet.”

Niles elbows the knob and pushes with his shoulder until the door lights open to a peculiar sight. Far from being neat, Miss Fine’s room looks like Macy’s after its annual Black Friday sale with clothes strewn everywhere—from the dressers to the wardrobes to the floor. An empty suitcase is lying on the bed next to Miss Fine, who is sitting in bed wearing an oversized t-shirt, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow. Niles can tell, even from the doorway, that it’s red and swollen, but to his satisfaction and relief, it doesn’t appear to be broken.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Miss Fine mutters when she notices his incredulous gaze. “We got all the animals out t’day.”

“I can see that,” Niles replies, placing his tray on her bedside table and shutting the door. With his usual efficiency, he then walks back over, retrieves the ice pack, and gently places it on the affected area, frowning when she flinches.

“Mr. Sheffield said that the doctor was coming at ten,” he says as he gently lowers himself onto the bed, clasping his hands primly on top of his lap.

“Mm,” Fran grunts noncommittally, grabbing the two Advil pills and knocking them back with a swig of coffee.

“What? You’re not curious as to whether or not said doctor in question is single, Jewish, and living in a Manhattan penthouse? Miss Fine”—Niles reaches over and places the back of his hand on Fran’s head—“do you have a fever?”

“Oh, Niles,” she swats his hand away, “I’m not in the mood.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

“Niles!”

“Sorry, Miss Fine,” he withdraws his hand with a laugh. “You know I have to warm up before Miss Babcock arrives.”

“Glad to assist,” Fran quips, taking another sip of coffee, and it’s only as she closes her eyes to savor the taste, that he notices there are lines beneath her eyes from what seems to have been a sleepless night. 

The smile sinks from his face.

“You know,” he says quietly, “in all of our acquaintance, I’ve never known of you to injure yourself while dancing.”

Fran opens her eyes only to immediately glance away, tapping her long nails against her mug.

“Val tripped me up when she thought she saw Elton John,” she shrugs dully. “Turns out it was just a really lifelike poster of him behind the bar...”

“I see,” Niles returns, raising a brow. “It was nice of Miss Toriello to forgo her weekend trip with her parents to come back and… boogie woogie oogie with you.”

“Dammit,” she pouts, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t think I’d told you that.”

“You didn’t. I overheard you and Miss Toriello gabbing on the phone about it yesterday morning.”

Fran can’t seem to help herself; she smiles crookedly, even as she shakes her head.

“I dunno who’s more absorbent sometimes—you or the dish sponge.”

He smiles back at her, patting her uninjured leg gently.

“Me, naturally."

"I can believe it, Chatty Cathy," she sighs.

"Now tell me, Miss Fine"—he regains his solemnity quickly, unwilling to let her deflect with jokes—"why does your room look like a tornado went through Loehmann’s?”

Her dark eyes immediately glance around the messy room, as though looking for an excuse and failing to find one.

It’s only now that Niles is sitting down, taking everything in, that he notices that most of the articles strewn about are her favorite clothing items, from her holographic Versace dress to the black tube top that Mr. Sheffield can’t pry his eyes away from every time she wears it.

“I almost did a very stupid thing, Niles,” she half-whispers, looking down into her coffee cup, her fingers tensed and shivering around the handle. “And the thing is, maybe it wasn’t really all that stupid? Maybe it was the smartest thing I could of done in a lifetime of doin’ so many stupid things.”

She pauses briefly before sardonically adding, “People included.”

Though Niles doesn’t have enough dots to connect the full picture, he has what he needs in the way of evidence to get the basic gist: Nigel being in town, the two of them going out, Nigel leaving town, the suitcase, the swollen ankle, and Miss Fine's uncharacteristic melancholy, smeared across her face so sharply that it may as well be lipstick.

He swallows thickly, suddenly grasping how close that they had all been to losing Fran forever.

“Well,” he says, making an effort to hitch an oblivious smile on his face, “isn’t it your mother who says that everything happens for a reason? It seems as though you’re right where you belong.”

“Yeah,” she snorts indelicately. “Twenty-nine multiple times over, single, and livin’ in a mansion with a man who won’t even commit to his meal orders at restaurants, much less his very available and desperate nanny.”

“Beautiful, young, and living in a mansion with three children who love you, a butler who’d be lost without you, and a man who won’t commit to his tie choices either but still cares for you deeply all the same,” Niles corrects her softly. “He was very worried for you when you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning. He didn’t even do the crossword on the Times.”

“Gee,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “how romantic.”

“Very,” Niles grins, “a modern day Romeo—emotional hangups and all.” 

With that, he pats Fran again and stands up; he has no doubt that Mr. Sheffield will be calling for him soon to interrogate him as to Miss Fine’s wellbeing. 

Maybe he can even get C.C. on speaker phone to rub it in her face.

“Y’know, Niles,” Fran smiles at him fondly, “if this whole Mr. Sheffield thing doesn’t work out, we should elope in Vegas in ten yea's.”

“Only if you wear this little number,” he says, bending down and picking up a black cocktail dress from the floor, folding it neatly over his arm.

“You wish you could be so lucky.”

“If we’re going to be in Vegas, anything can happen, I suppose.”

After he retrieves the silver tray from the bedside table, he bends down and kisses Miss Fine lightly on the head, his heart hurting when he notices the way that she closes her eyes beneath the gentle touch—young and vulnerable and terribly hurt by something he can’t quite fix with a well-timed witticism.

“Get some rest, Miss Fine," her murmurs against her head. "I'll check on you a bit."

“Thanks, hubby."

—

Scarcely ten minutes later, he’s down in Mr. Sheffield’s office as per usual, offering the producer a fresh cup of tea even though he had already drunk his traditional two cups at breakfast. 

He insisted, though, on a third, for some excuse he couldn’t quite come up with.

And instead of coming up with an excuse, he immediately asked for all the particulars of Miss Fine’s health.

Predictable chump.

“Thanks, old boy,” Mr. Sheffield frowns, returning to his crossword, tapping the end of his pen arrhythmically against the paper. “Let me know when the doctor for Miss Fine arrives. I want to be there when he checks her over.”

“Ooh la-la-la,” Niles hums, dropping a sugar cube into the tea with a zesty plop.

Mr. Sheffield places his pen down on the desk angrily. 

“Not like that… I just want to ensure she’s going to be well… you know, for the children’s sake.”

“Yes,” he sighs theatrically. “How will the children ever be able to bear their nanny having a twisted ankle?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mr. Sheffield snaps. “I don’t pay you to be sarcastic.”

“No, sir, you pay me to help you with the crossword when you’re missing three-across,” Niles smirks knowingly when he glances down at the incomplete puzzle. “What’s the hint?”

Mr. Sheffield adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose before looking down again.

“A word that means feeling bad for not doing something that you should have done all along. Disappointment. A sense of shame.”

Niles straightens up with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“Oh, sir, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

My mama is the best man in the universe...

For the lovely @marilynmonroefanfics​ 😍😍👄💕💕​

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Mentions of murder

"I swear to God that this case is gonna make me crazy!"

"Please, Detective, don't call out my father!"

Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed: currently, she and Lucifer worked on a murder case. 

The victims, all members of a scientific research group, were burned to death, but it looked like the burning came from inside the bodies. An element that puzzles the detective, who sighed in defeat:

"Okay, so... What do you think about this case?"

"Mmmh... For sure, a mere human cannot do that. Unless he would be able to force his victims to swallow some combustible, strike a match, and... Burn baby, burn!"

"Very funny, Lucifer!"

"Pleasure's mine, dear Chloe!" retorted the demon with a seductive wink.

The detective rolled her eyes but can't help smiling at his antics: she knew he was only trying to light up her mood. 

She reported her attention to the investigation file and said:

"According to our dear Ella, not a single trace of fuel was found in the victims' bodies. But how the killer can burn his victims to death?"

"Do you know what it means?"

"I'm afraid that we are dealing with a new case of a supernatural arsonist creature!" sighed the woman.

"I'm sorry to tell you that, but you're right!" answered the Devil with a comforting pat on her shoulder.

"After what I've seen before, nothing could surprise me anymore!"

"Well, you got the point!"

"Do you have an idea which creature can do that?"

Lucifer frowned, puzzled.

"It might be surprising, but this time, I don't know who can be the potential guilty!"

"I wish I know someone who can help us because this case is getting on my nerves!"

The fallen angel cogitated a long time before he exclaimed:

"Eureka! I know someone who can help us!"

"Really? Thank you! But who is this person?"

"Of course, my Mama!"

When she heard those words, Chloe quivered:

"What? You want to call your mother? After all the mess she did with you? She badly hurt you, remember..."

Lucifer bit his lip:

"Well, I was not talking about my birth mother. I explain myself. You see, Chloe, after my parents get separated, our mother rejected us. My siblings and I were raised by another person. He made my old man happy, and he treated us as if we were his own children."

The demon fondly smiled.

"He is very dear to me..."

"I can see it... Wait a minute: you said "he" are you sure you did not make a mistake?"

"No, you heard well: I was raised by two men!"

"Wait for a second... Do you just say that God is gay?"

"Bisexual would be more appropriate!"

Chloe shrugged.

"Well, after all I've been through since we met, I think that's not a big deal. Besides, if you say that your dad can help us, it suits me!"

She noticed how Lucifer seemed more relaxed after her statement.

"I'm happy to see that you're always open-minded!"

"You're welcome. Now, call your dad! We have a case to solve!"

"At your orders!" smirked the demon as he dialed the man who raised him.

Later, at Lucifer's penthouse.

Sitting on the comfortable couch, Chloe and Trixie watched with amusement Lucifer running around his penthouse, checking every room. Mazikeen, desperate by her boss's behavior, shook her head.

"Right, I put the whiskey on the table, and his favorite meals are here too... Where do I put the cake?"

"In the fridge, Lucifer!" answered Trixie, who chuckled.

"Ah yes: it is there!"

"Come on, Lucifer: it's your dad, not the Pope!" gently joked Chloe.

"I don't appreciate the mockery, Detective Decker!" growled Lucifer as he checked himself in the mirror.

"Don't take it personally, Chloe: he always gets stressed when it comes to his other father! He wants to be a good son with him," reassured Mazikeen.

"You know his other father?" asked the blonde woman.

"Indeed, yes. Lucifer's father number two is Petraeus, or Peter if you want, and he is a powerful being!"

"He is God's companion, so I think he might be as powerful as Him!"

"You're right. But I'm sure you're going to appreciate Petraeus. He is a brilliant man, you know. He is also smart and absolutely charming!"

"Well, I trust you."

"You can: he is more approachable than God!"

Suddenly, they heard a knock on the door. Lucifer stopped walking and muttered:

"Oh, hell! It's him!"

"Stop being alarmed: it's just your father! You know what? I'll open the door before you freak out in front of your dad!" smirked Mazi, who got up and walked at the door.

She opened the door and saw a dark-haired man with black eyes and fair skin. Dressed in an elegant white suit, the man smiled:

"Good evening, Mazikeen. It's been a long time."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Master Petraeus."

"Don't be so formal! You can call me Peter, you know?"

"Sorry, a force of habit. But please, come in!"

Petraeus stepped in and said:

"Good evening, everyone!"

Lucifer rushed towards his father with open arms:

"Good evening, Papa!"

"My sweet demon!" beamed Petraeus as he held his son close to him.

Chloe smiled at the sight of her lover: she never saw Lucifer acting like that with other members of his holy family. He appeared to be close to his father.

Meanwhile, Petraeus stepped aside and looked at his son:

"Look at you, boy: handsome as always!"

"I had a good teacher!" 

"Don't be so flattering!"

He glanced at Chloe and Trixie with a charming smile.

"Are these beautiful ladies the famous Chloe and Trixie you told me about?"

"Yes, of course: Papa, this is Detective Chloe Decker and her daughter, Beatriz Espinoza, aka Trixie!"

"Please to meet you, Sir Petraeus!" smiled Chloe as she shook hands with the guest.

"The pleasure is mine, dear Chloe. And don't worry: you can call me Peter!"

"If you allow me..." smirked Chloe.

Trixie jumped on her feet and held out her hand with a wide grin on her face.

"Hello, Peter! I'm Trixie! Please to meet you!"

"What a lively young lady! Nice to meet you too!" laughed Peter.

After he finished his greetings, he looked at the place with impressed eyes.

"You find yourself a comfortable place to live, my dear son. I see you accommodate it at your image!"

"Listen, if the Old Man made Earth at his image, why can't I do the same with my house?"

"Cheeky as always, aren't you?" grinned Peter.

"You know Papa: I've always been the rebellious one among your children!"

"I have noticed..."

The celestial spirit stopped himself as he remarked the table set with chic crockery and delicious courses.

"Oh, Lucifer: you should not have! It was not necessary to turn your dining room into Versailles' Hall of Mirrors!"

"Only the best for you, Papa: come on, sit down! Dinner's ready!"

The evening went smooth, and Chloe admitted that Mazikeen was utterly right about Peter. He was not only good-looking and kind but also intellectual - without being conceited. He had so many stories about historical figures to tell, which amazed Trixie.

"So you met all those people? That's soooo cool!" happily squealed the young girl.

"I'm glad that you liked my anecdotes, Trixie. You know that some of them were Lucifer's bedtime stories when he was your age?"

"Oh no, Dad!" groaned Lucifer, flustered.

"What? There is nothing to be ashamed of, sweets!"

Chloe grinned as she saw her boyfriend confused by some childhood memories. But she discerned in his eyes all the adoration and filial love he had for Petraeus, and she could swear he never looked at God like this... 

Time went by, and it was past midnight when Trixie had to go to bed after she nearly fell asleep on the table. Once the young girl settled in a bedroom, the adults talked about the case:

"So, my dear son, you need my help if I understand well?"

"Yes. Chloe and I are working on a difficult case, and we think your knowledge would be valuable!"

"Alright, tell me more about this problem!"

"Everything we've found so far is in this folder!" explained Chloe as she handed a file to Peter.

Petraeus opened it and was taken aback by the horrendous pictures of burned bodies.

"Oh, dear! What a frightful view!"

"Yes, I agree. All the victims belonged to a scientific research group, and they were burnt to death."

"I see it. But what makes you think that you need my help?"

"Well, Papa, this is where the mystery begins. The coroner confirmed that the burn comes from the inside of the bodies. But there is not a trace of fuel! So, we come to the conclusion that a creature killed those people!"

Peter nodded.

"I understand now... Well, from what I can see, it looks like an igniting spell, which implies that the unsub is a fire-element being. However, I cannot determine if it belongs to Biblical, Coranic, Jewish, Buddhist, or pagan mythology."

"If you want, you can accompany us to the Police Department tomorrow. I'm sure Ella, our dear coroner, would accept to show us the three last victims!"

"Thank you for your kind invitation, Chloe. It's a good idea!"

The young woman thanked him before yawning:

"Sorry if I seem impolite, but I have to leave you. This day was a complete mess, and I need to sleep... And I'm sure you had a lot of time to catch up!"

"Go ahead, I'll join you later!" smiled Lucifer.

"Okay. Good night, Peter!"

"Have a nice night!" answered the celestial spirit.

As the detective left the dining room, Peter turned to his son and said:

"She is really exquisite, Lucifer! You rightly choose your soulmate!"

"Well, I must admit it: I'm lucky that she accepted me in her life. Chloe is the most amazing woman I ever met!"

Peter tenderly smiled at Lucifer:

"Seeing you so happy is a blessing for me! I was so worried that your banishment would put you down..."

The fallen angel saw a spark of sadness clouding his Papa's eyes.

"Papa, are you alright?"

"Sorry, it's just that... I feel so terrible not being able to visit you on Earth. But your father did not allow me to do so..."

He sadly sighed

"You had no idea how many times we argued about it. I told him that his punishment was above cruelty, and he did not even try to understand why you stood up against his authority!"

"I figure that he told you that you were too kind with me!"

"You know him well... Of course, I cannot disobey him, so I did not come visiting you either in Hell or Earth. But I send you some signs from me... just to tell you that you're not alone, and I'll always love you, no matter what happens!"

Touched by his father's sadness, the demon reached his father's hand and gently held it.

"Papa, I already knew it. You don't have to feel guilty: nothing is your fault. I knew about your messages: I kept them in a small box, and when I feel distressed, I read them, and it cheers me up. You always cared about my siblings and me more than our mother. I'll always be grateful to have you as my Papa."

Relief spread through Peter as he smiled:

"Thank you, son."

Lucifer glanced at the clock and stated:

"Well, time runs fast, and you maybe want to get some rest..."

"Good idea: all those emotions dried me out."

The King of Hell led his dad to the guest room.

"Here's your bed for the night! You have your own bathroom on the right with all the comfort!"

"I'll manage for tonight... Thank you, Lucifer!"

"You're welcome, dad. Good night!"

Peter leaned close to his son and kissed his forehead:

"Good night, my little demon!"

As he came back to his bedroom, Lucifer felt his heart happily swelling. He ached for the love of his parents for a long time, and he was more than happy to meet his Papa again.

Lucifer and his siblings were forever grateful to Petraeus for bringing joy back in their Holy Father's heart and loving them as his own offspring.

When he laid down next to Chloe, who was already asleep, the demon felt like his life on Earth was kind of complete... 

The following day.

After bringing Trixie back to her home, Chloe drove to the L.A.P.D with Lucifer and Petraeus.

"Los Angeles is a quite unusual place. Even if it had a lot of lovely surroundings, I'm not fond of its nightlife. But I can understand why you choose to live here, my Lightbringer!" stated the celestial spirit.

"What can I say? I love the atmosphere of Los Angeles at night, and my nightclub is among the most popular of the city!" smirked Lucifer.

"How boastful you are!" gently mocked Chloe.

"Oh, honey, why do you have to hurt me?" pouted Lucifer while making puppy eyes.

"Because she knows you well, darling!" chuckled Peter.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Police Department and headed to the forensic lab. When they entered the lab, Ella was already there, checking the last victim's remains.

"Good morning, Ella!"

The coroner rose her head and greeted her colleagues with a warm smile.

"Hiya, guys! How are you?"

"We're fine, thanks. Still working on the last victim?"

"Unfortunately: I scanned every ash, every piece of flesh, but I can't find any bloody clue! The only thing I found so far are traces of bindings on their wrists and ankles!"

She noticed Peter's presence.

"May I know the name of our dashing visitor?"

"Where are my manners? My name is Petraeus, but you can call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. And you are...?"

"Ah yes: I'm Lucifer's dad."

Ella frowned, puzzled.

"But I thought Lucifer's father is God!"

"Well, I'm his other dad..."

When she put all the pieces together, she jumped back and yelped.

"HOLY COW! DOES IT MEAN THAT GOD IS GAY?" 

"Bisexual, precisely. And don't worry, I had quite the same reaction as you when Lucifer told me!" explained Chloe.

Ella ran her hand through her black hair.

"Sorry if I appear rude, but it's a lot to handle in one day, and this is not what I was taught!" 

"Don't worry, I understand!" reassured Peter.

"Auntie Rosalia won't ever believe it if I told her... Well, I'm pleased to meet another member of your family, Lucifer, but can you tell why your number 2 father is doing here?"

"My dear Miss Lopez, my Papa came to helping us in this murder case!"

"Really?"

"Indeed, my son told me that you were struggling with those killings!"

"Struggling is an understatement. Would you like to check on the body I'm currently working on?"

"Well, if you allow me, I accept with pleasure!"

Ella gestured for him to come closer to inspect the remains. 

He inclined and carefully looked at the corpse. After his observation, he muttered:

"I can confirm that your murderer is a supernatural creature!"

"Oh no! That's what I feared!" sighed Chloe as she facepalmed.

"And what else can you tell us about it?" asked Ella.

"That it is from another mythology: so, it's not a Biblical demon who is causing this tragedy. I hesitate between a European creature and a Middle Eastern spirit."

At the same time, Dan Espinoza made his entrance into the lab:

"Hello, Ella! Anything new about..."

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the presence of Lucifer and Chloe:

"Chloe, Lucifer..."

"Detective Douchebag..." gritted the demon.

Dan turned his head and remarked Peter near the body:

"Ella, are you mad? Why are you letting a civilian looking at the body?"

"Because, sir, I offered my help to your department." calmly explained the celestial being.

Espinoza asked his ex wife:

"Who's this lad?"

"You better show respect to my..." growled Lucifer, but his father stopped him.

"It's okay, Lucifer: I'll handle it!"

He stepped towards Dan and asked:

"Can I know your name, detective?"

"I'm Detective-Sergeant Daniel Espinoza."

"Espinoza? Oh, you must be Trixie's father: she is a wonderful child, you know. You are lucky to have her!" genuinely said Peter.

"Er, thanks... But how do you know her?"

"Because she and I met him last night at Lucifer's place!" explained Chloe.

"Chlo, you can't let someone you don't know near to our daughter!"

"But I'm not some creepy stranger, you know. Let me introduce myself: I'm Petraeus, or Peter if you prefer my human name. I am Lucifer's father... And by the way, I am God's husband!"

A silence followed this announcement before Dan yelled:

"WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? God cannot be gay: it's impossible! It's not written in the Bible!"

"But humankind does not know all about God, right? And I reassure you: it's not a witticism, but the truth!"

"But still: God cannot be with a man!"

"Are you just confessing your homophobia, Detective Douchebag?" sneered Lucifer.

"You, go to Hell!"

"Been there already. King of Hell, remember?"

"Well, just get back and don't piss me off!"

"Stop insulting my son! As for my marriage with God, I can assure you that it's true: we had a beautiful and sincere relationship for billions of years!"

"But I never heard about you!"

"I trust you: I prefer being discreet. But I'm sure you know my other name..."

"Your other name?" asked Dan, bewildered.

"Does your dad had another name?" demanded Chloe to Lucifer.

"I don't remember it..." answered Lucifer, confused.

At the same time, Espinoza urged Peter to tell him:

"And what is your other name?"

"Oh, I am sure you know it... You may also know me as Virgin Mary!"

All stood astounded by the statement... until Dan fainted, unable to handle it anymore.

"Woah! That was a shock, for sure!" muttered Chloe.

"Is he still alive?" inquired Ella.

"I don't know, and I don't really care!" scoffed Lucifer.

As for Peter, he cannot help but giggle.

"That's what I expected! This joke works every time!"

"I wonder where does Lucifer takes his mocking personality..." smirked Detective Decker.

"I had a good teacher!" answered the fallen angel.

"See, Chloe: this is how I handle rude people! And I must add that my dearest husband loves my sense of humor!"

"What can I say? You're the best man in the universe, Papa!"

"Thank you, my little flame! Now, let's go back to work, shall we?"

The quatuor worked all day to find answers to this tricky case. Thanks to their teamwork, they discovered that the scientific team went to Saudi Arabia three months ago and were in the middle of a controversial story.

Indeed, they were blamed for the accidental destruction of an old temple dedicated to the jinni. And to add more fuel to the fire, the wreck caused severe injuries to a native teenage boy named Yassin. They excused themselves for the damages and never paid for their responsibilities. Moreover, they fled back to the United States before any juridical process started.

When they learned that story, Chloe was appalled, to say the least:

"How could they act like cowards?"

"Well, they were more concerned about their careers than a human life! But it does not mean that I approve their behaviors!" stated Lucifer.

"Moreover, the young boy's family was too poor to sue the team! They gave up in exchange for some money! Some people are so heartless..." grunted Ella.

"And so, we cannot suspect them to carry out their revenge against those who wronged them: first of all, because Yassin is in a comatose state. Secondly, his family does not have enough financial resources to travel from their country to Los Angeles. And thirdly, we know that it's a supernatural creature who murdered some members of the scientific team!" itemized Peter.

"Do you think a jinn could be responsible?" asked Ella.

"There is a huge probability that a jinn can be responsible for all the murders. Furthermore, they perfectly control natural elements, and they are extremely ferocious towards those who offend them!"

Chloe looked at her watch and suggested:

"Okay, guys: what if we continue our work at my place? You are my guests!"

"With great pleasure, Chloe! I wonder where do you live?"

"Somewhere less luxurious than Lucifer's penthouse!"

"Don't belittle yourself, love. Your home is a nice place, too."

Later in the evening, at Chloe's home.

Once settled at Chloe's place, the four investigators were brainstorming with the help of Mazikeen, who came empty-handed from her research.

"But how a Saudi jinn can go to Los Angeles? I mean, there are two continents and an ocean between the two!" grumbled Ella, who scratched her head, frustrated.

"That's an excellent question... I'm not familiar with the Arabic magical world, much to my chagrin!" sighed Lucifer.

Trixie, who laid on the sofa, looked at the ceiling, a slight frown on her face. She really wanted to help her mum, but she did not know how... until an idea popped into her mind.

"Mum..."

"What, Trixie?"

"I wonder... What if the boy's family appealed to a jinn to avenge him? It can explain how the jinn arrives here..."

The five adults looked at each other with amazement: they obviously did not think about this possibility!

"Of course! How can I forget this?" exclaimed Lucifer.

"By answering to their prayers, he would not only avenge the boy but also make the scientists pay for the destruction of his temple!" concluded Ella.

"That's right, but I have to mention something: jinn need a human vessel to travel such a long distance. Like this, those spirits can save their energy and powers!" described Peter.

"It can be everyone else! How can we unmask him?" asked Trixie.

"Don't worry about it: I would recognize him without a doubt!"

"Okay, but now we had to find him before he exterminates the remaining members of the scientific team!" said Mazikeen.

Suddenly, Chloe's phone rang.

"Hello?"

**"Chloe? It's Dan!"**

"I'm listening..."

**"It's about the case you work on... I have some news for you!"**

"Go ahead!"

**"First of all, we had a janitor from the lab who said that he remembered seeing someone roaming near the building many times. He cannot give us a name, but the description matches with Terry Bradford, an ex-convict. He was often arrested for acts of violence and was among the suspects of a drug dealer's murder case."**

"Uh, interesting. What else?"

**"I don't think you're ready for this one, but do you remember the boy who was injured by the scientists in Saudi Arabia?"**

"Of course, why?"

**"Well, my contact in the Saudi embassy told me that Yassin was declared missing for one and a half weeks."**

"MISSING?" exclaimed Peter, Lucifer, Trixie, Ella, and Mazikeen.

"But that's impossible! He is in a coma!"

**"He is supposed to, but the nurses found his bed empty. Since then, they searched him everywhere but in vain!"**

"Oh, I feel that I'm going crazy. Do you have anything else?"

**"No, except that I'm searching for Bradford: his probation agent did not see him for several days!**"

"Okay, I got it: be careful!"

**"Don't worry: I'll manage, as always! Good luck!"**

After she hung up, Chloe asked:

"Have you heard the news?"

"Yes, and it turns this investigation into a brain-teaser! Now, we had another suspect!" sighed Ella.

Peter turned to his son and asked:

"Do you have any idea about it, son?"

"I'm trying to put the pieces together, but it's more complicated than I thought..."

Suddenly, the King of Hell had an eye-opener.

"Of course! How I did not think about it before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Papa, but jinns can manipulate people too, right?"

"Of course."

"So, he must have taken possession of Yassin's body, traveled from Saudi Arabia, and hypnotized Bradford, forcing him to kidnap the scientists!"

"This is a good analysis, son! You'll never cease to impress me!" fondly smiled Peter.

"Okay, so we must find the jinn and Bradford before they kill another victim. But, where can we find them?"

"They need an isolated place to accomplish their crimes..."

"I know! The former industrial site near the docks! It's abandoned for years!" shrieked Ella.

"Alright, let's check there! We'll probably have answers!" declared Lucifer, who got from his seat.

"I'm coming with you!" shouted Trixie, but her mother stopped her.

"Not so fast, young lady! You stay here: it's too dangerous!"

"Mommy, we live with Satan himself: there is no danger!" stated the young girl.

"She can come with me: I promise to look after her as if she was the apple of my eyes !" assured Peter.

"Trust my Papa, Chloe: the last one who dared scared his children is still traumatized by his anger!" affirmed the fallen angel.

"I confirm: he is as scary as God!" nodded Mazikeen.

"If you say so... Okay, let's go: we don't have time to lose!"

Soon after, the team drove to the former industrial site, hoping to prevent another murder.

"I never handle a jinn, so I don' know what to do!" admitted Chloe.

"Me neither, and I don't know Koran!" added Ella.

"Don't worry about the jinn, and focus on Bradford! Lucifer, Mazikeen, and I will take care of the jinn!"

"Are you going to hurt him? What if you hurt the boy instead?" asked Trixie, worried.

"You don't have to worry, Trixie: we'll handle it!" smiled Mazikeen.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Then, they wandered through the buildings, searching for the jinn.

"Do you see anything?" asked Ella.

"Not yet, but I'm sure we're not far from them!" mumbled Lucifer.

As they progressed, they bumped into Dan.

"Dan? What are you doing here?" whispered Chloe.

"I can ask you the same... And why Trixie is here?"

"Because my dad wanted so, and now, shut up and be useful for once in your stupid life!" snarled Lucifer.

Peter gently patted his shoulder.

"Calm down, son: it's okay! Now, let's go! I feel that they are not far from here!"

The group silently walked until they heard a painful scream.

"Oh, I hope we're not too late!" 

"The scream comes from this building! Let's go!" said Chloe.

They came closer to the building and watched through a hole in the wall the remaining scientists, hanged by the arms at a butcher's hook. Circling near them, a tall blonde muscular man held a baseball bat in his hand, while an Arab teenage boy stood in front of them, a stern look on his face.

"We found them! It looks like the jinn wants to play with them before the fatal blow!" uttered Ella.

"We need to intervene before he burns someone else!" rustled Dan as he pulled his gun out of its holder.

"Who do you think you are? John Wayne? Can't you just think before you act, idiot?" snapped Lucifer.

"Shh, low your voice! If they heard us, we're doomed!" whined Trixie.

Meanwhile, the scientists begged for their lives.

"Please, don't kill us! We'll do anything you want!" pleaded a dark-haired man.

"SILENCE! All of you don't deserve my mercy, filthy humans!" growled Yassin with an unusual booming voice.

For sure, this voice did not belong to a fourteen years old young man.

"The power of his voice... It's not a common jinn we deal with: I'm sure it's a jinn-king!" muttered Peter.

"A jinn-king?" asked Dan.

"Yes, I'm afraid so... What is the plan?"

"We'll follow your idea: Dan, Ella, and I, we deal with Bradford. As for you, Mazikeen, and Lucifer, you focus on the jinn!" declared Chloe.

"It's good for me!"

The team split into two groups and prepared to intervene as the jinn was about to slay another victim.

"How could you be so stupid? Didn't you think you could run away from your crimes without facing the consequences?"

"Please, have mercy!" cried his soon-to-be victim.

"You begged me to have mercy? Did you show any compassion for the boy you harmed? None of you ever show commiseration for him!"

Suddenly, he was interrupted by the entrance of the team.

"Nobody move! Time to stop the fire!" ordered Dan as he aimed his gun at Yassin.

The possessed boy gave him an arrogant smile:

"Look who we got here! You must be stupid or too proud to dare to threaten a jinn, Daniel Espinoza!"

"How do you know my name?" asked the latter, confused.

"He is a spiritual being, Dan: it explains how he knows you!" told Mazikeen.

"Indeed, Mazikeen of the Lilim. I see that you don't lose your strength!"

"Do you want a demonstration?"

"No, I'd rather not."

He turned to Lucifer and smirked:

"What a surprise! I do not expect the King of Hell among us tonight! Nice to meet you, Lucifer Morningstar! Or should I say, Samael the Lightbringer? The fallen one?"

"Thank you for revealing my CV, mister King-Jinn! But the manners command to tell us your name!" snickered Lucifer.

"Try to guess!" mocked the jinn.

Peter stepped between his son and the jinn and said:

"I think I know who you are, King-Jinn Murrah Al-Abyad! Or should I say King-Jinn Al-Abyad, the White Demon?"

"Oh, interesting! I certainly did not foresee such prestigious guests!"

"What if you show your true form? I am not comfortable speaking with a possessed child!"

"As you wish!"

In front of the humans' bewildered eyes appeared a handsome brown-haired man. His ivory skin contrasted with his ebony eyes. 

He was dressed in a sumptuous Oriental outfit: a dark red sleeveless vest that revealed a toned chest and a pair of crimson pants with embroidered flames. He wore golden bracelets around his wrists and ankles, plus a golden circlet with a shining ruby on his head.

"Undoubtedly, he is a King-Jinn!" muttered Trixie, who was hiding behind Lucifer.

"Indeed, urchin. And he loves to show off!" scoffed the demon.

Meantime, Peter and Al-Abyad talked:

"So, I finally meet God's beloved spouse, Petraeus the Benevolent! I've heard a lot about you, but I admit that I never saw your face until tonight!"

"Do I disappoint your expectations?"

"Not even the slightest. If truth be told, I expect Goddess's successor to be as powerful as she was! That said, no creature anticipates the Almighty falling in love with a man, as it is supposed to be a sin!"

Peter rolled his eyes:

"Thank you, I have noticed! But only humans said that, not my husband! But, you might guess that we're not here to talk about my marriage!"

"I figured it out: you're here to obstruct my punishment against those maggots!"

The celestial spirit nodded.

"I appreciate your concern about them, but you better mind your own business: I am offended, so they have to pay the price!"

"I got it: it was your temple which gets destroyed!" said Chloe.

"You're right, Miss Chloe Decker. But I assure you that I would have done little more than tormenting them if they did not act like cowards!"

The jinn furiously glanced at the scientists who were shivering with fear.

"But no... They wounded a child and made a family suffering because of their greed! You would understand that I cannot let this misdemeanor pass!"

"I understand what you mean, and I agree that they deserve a sentence for their misdeed. But I can't let you kill those humans like that: it's not fair!"

The jinn roared.

"You think THIS is not fair? But I'm doing what your so-called almighty husband should have done earlier instead of being passive. Self-judgment? Ah! What a pathetic excuse he hides behind!"

Trixie walked near the jinn and tried to calm him:

"Mister King-Jinn, I think Peter tries to tell you that there is no need to burn people alive!"

"NO TRIXIE, STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" yelled Dan, but Bradford stood in his way and tried to hit him.

"Back off, you jerk!" yelled Chloe, who kicked the thug in the head, knocking him out.

As for the jinn, his expression softened when he saw the young girl talking to him.

"What do you mean, Beatrix?"

"I mean... You did not need to kill people to punish them. There are different ways. I know you only did that for helping a young boy, and I'm sure your people are grateful to have you as a protector. But please, stop! I promise that my mama would punish them for what they did... And you can count on her for that!"

"My little monkey!" smiled Chloe.

Peter stepped near Trixie and added:

"You know children: they cannot lie."

Al-Abyad sighed.

"I know, but... No one would dare lay their hands on a child without suffering my wrath!"

"I know what you mean. I would be enraged to the core if anyone ever threatens my children. I know we are not linked by blood, but I love them like my own, and I would do anything to punish the culprit who made them miserable! You can ask Astaroth: now, he will think twice before considering attacking Azrael again."

He put his hand on the jinn's shoulder.

"End your crusade of anger, and let us handle this case. I swear they will face justice!"

Al-Abyad stayed silent for a long time, lost in his thoughts: he craved so much making those criminals enduring torments for their negligence. Nevertheless, he knew Petraeus's reputation as a dutiful man, and the jinn knew that if he said anything, he would keep his word.

Sighing, he conceded:

"Fine, you won! I'll let you deal with those pathetic creatures. But you better keep your promise, or I'll come back to finish my work!"

"Don't worry, I save a special spot for them in my kingdom!" sadistically smirked Lucifer, his eyes glowing red.

Satisfied by the answer, the jinn declared:

"Then, I shall go!"

"Wait, mister Al-Abyad!" exclaimed Trixie.

"What is it, Beatrix?"

"What about Yassin? Will he be alright?"

A small smile appeared on the jinn's face.

"Have no fear for him, little one. Yassin would be fine... and that's why I leave him to you: I want him to see that you will help him!"

"Understood."

"Very well. Goodbye, and may fate be kind to you!"

And he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. 

"Well, that was an unusual encounter!" sighed Ella.

"Unusual? You mean unbelievable? Damn it, Ella: we met a jinn! A creature that only exists in fairytales!" squealed Dan.

"I'm sure Al-Abyad would be delighted to hear that!" sneered Lucifer.

At the same time, Yassin slowly opened his eyes. Looking at his surroundings, he realized that he was no longer at home and started panicking:

"'ayn 'anaa? limadha 'iinaa huna? 'ayn waliday?" (Where am I? Why am I here? Where are my parents?)

Peter hurried and held the young boy in his arms, one of his hands gently cradling Yassin's head.

"Everything is okay, Yassin. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise."

The teenager sobbed:

"'amiy ... 'urid 'an 'araa 'ami!" (Mum... I want to see my mother!)

Gently wiping away the tears that rolled down Yassin's cheeks, the celestial spirit soothed the young boy:

"Shh, don't cry. You will see your mother soon. I'll stay here with you, I promise!"

"I am here, too!" added Trixie, who sat near Yassin and held his hand in comfort.

When he saw this scene, it reminded Lucifer of painful memories: he saw himself as a young child, weeping after his mother rejected him for the umptieth time. 

He also remembered the warm embrace of Peter, who tried to comfort him. He heard his voice, calm and loving, who repeated that he will always be there for him and he'll always love him.

Coming close to her boyfriend, Chloe asked:

"Are you okay?"

The demon put himself together and said:

"Yes, absolutely."

"You seemed... touched."

Lucifer sighed:

"Maybe because... I remembered why my dad made the right choice, billions of years ago!"

Puzzled, Chloe turned and saw her daughter and Peter, comforting Yassin as paramedics checked on him.

She smiled:

"I see what you mean... Your father is a great person."

"Yes, indeed. My mama is the best man in the universe, and I won't tell otherwise!"

A few days later.

The group was gathered at Chloe's home to celebrate their success. Bradford was put in jail for his collusion in the murders. The remaining teammates of the research group were complied to pay damages to Yassin.

Speaking of the young boy, he flew back to Saudi Arabia, where he was warmly welcomed by his family and many people. He was even received by the royal family!

"It ended well, at least! I'm so happy to get some rest!" smiled Ella, sipping her glass of soda.

"So am I! But I'm sure we would never find out without Peter's help!" added Chloe.

"Don't depreciate your work! You did an amazing job, and I only contributed to help you!" humbly answered Peter.

"You are too cool! And charismatic!" beamed Trixie.

"Thank you, my dear!"

Suddenly, a small ball of light appeared in the room. It flew through the room before stopping in front of Peter. Then, it puts a piece of paper in his hand before disappearing.

"What was that?" asked Dan, utterly amazed.

"Let's see..." muttered Peter, who unfolded the note and read the following message:

Come back to me, my love. I need your presence by my side as huge as your absence makes my heart ache for you. Eternally yours. Your devoted husband.

"It looks like someone misses you!" smirked Mazikeen.

"What can I say? He is lost without me!" laughed Peter.

"Does it mean you have to leave?" pouted Trixie.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I promise to come here as soon as I can!"

He greeted the others goodbye before holding his son:

"Take care of you, my little demon!"

"Don't worry, Papa: I'll be careful!"

As he waved goodbye, the celestial spirit disappeared in a flash of light.

Even if he wished to spend more time with his father, Lucifer knew that Petraeus would come back one day or another. And this day, he would welcome him with open arms, like a good son... 

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you liked it!

Can’t wait to see your requests and don’t hesitate to give your opinion (respectfully, please!)

See you later! 😘🥰💝

[sopxhiea]

Furtive

Alfie Solomons X Reader

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

The freshly bloomed flowers fill the room’s window, there’s the heavy smell of freshly cut grass roaming around in between the oak walls while the moon slowly rises in the sky. The sun is long gone, so are most of the people around the office.

The sound of footsteps approaching is all that can be heard.

Then he comes in.

Dressed in his usual attire, the watch hanging from his jacket creates reflections on the wall as the moonlight fills the room. There’s exhaustion in his eyes, evident from the way he slouches while sitting on the sofa in the middle of the room.

He smells of vanilla and rum. 

“Didn’t know you’d be dropping by.” your sound is mere whisper, like if someone heard it would cause a problem but he’s quick to catch on your words.

A sigh leaves his lips, both at the sight in front of him and due to the long day he’s just had.

You seem hesitant, guard up like it usually is but he’s far from surprised. It takes a while to crack you, he’s heard. Now, he’s laid the ground work and is trying to build on top of that, it doesn’t matter that you were in his sheets just a week ago. He sees the doubts you have around the situation and abides by your words.

“I didn’t know either, luv.” his voice is rough like it usually is but you decide you prefer his morning whispers.  “Fuckin’ early day, it ‘s.” his head bobs at his words, agreeing with himself and you stop yourself from casting the look he’s seen you cast only a couple times.

It’s a look of daydreams.

You chuckle, the moonlight is now more present in the room since it stopped rising in the sky. You sit down in front of him, crossing your legs and he sighs again but it’s for a completely different reason.

It’s a long game of push and pull, and you’re winning.

The game is simple, you tease and he teases back. He’s good at it, you don’t deny the fact but he has more than he can handle on his table right now with you. Alfie’s not the one to undermine someone, let alone an impressive lady like yourself but he can’t help but be surprised at how resilient you are.

“What brings you here?” you ask, the moonlight kisses his ginger beard and your hands itch to caress his face like you did a couple days ago but the game is still on.

He’s also not the one to shy away from anything including you, so he doesn’t.

“You.” he says but he knows that you’ve already memorised the answer. It’s rather predictable in your eyes.

Your eyes glow with the word that leaves his mouth, he can see the oceans behind your orbs that hold too much for his old heart but he’s willing to do anything you say regardless. You offer him a sweet smile, it’s rather lazy given the late hour and he watches the moonlight illuminate your features.

“I see.” you gulp with the words that leave your mouth, your smile turns into a wicked one and he can’t help but smile back.

He then starts talking. It’s Alfie, he mumbles something about work and how the men around had been thicker in the head lately but you just watch his features shift and and change under the moonlight. You nod along the words even though they seem to escape you but he keeps the one-sided conversation going even though he sees the distant look in your eyes.

He’s fallen for the devil’s trap, he concludes.

He’s a man of sense and logic and although it may not seem like it, he’s mostly calm about the situations that present themselves to him. But the pickle you’ve put him in makes his heart burn in many agonies.

It was a simple exchange at first, just sex and a couple kisses that would ease the tension you both had due to the life you lived and it was all smooth and sailing until two weeks ago.

There were forehead kisses and lowly whispered ‘I love you’s. You’d ignored them at times, mostly because everyone knew Alfie to be your friend and he was that, but also much more when it came to some nights.

You’d met him in a dinner party and he was instantly a silver charm that dragged you to him. The night was spent talking to each other and he’d made advances towards you but you were quick to refuse, he was a man of business and the kind of business you were keen on not getting involved with.

It’d been fine for the first three years of your friendship. You’d seen him around with other friends and had paid a couple visits to his infamous bakery to get a few things straight. It was laughter under a large tree and the rainbows painting themselves across the sky for a while.

And then you’d made the move.

It was a move from your part, but he had been on board the whole time. He’d wanted you the moment you’d told him you hated fancy parties in a fancy party dress. You’d come off as cold first but the more layers he managed to peel, the more intrigued he felt. 

Now you’re seated in front of each other, waiting for the day to end.

It’s a game you know very well, better than the back of your hand.

It doesn’t take long for him to surrender, he’s never been the best at telling you no so you find yourself chuckling as he tries to remove your shirt. It’s a tricky material, you give him that but the expression on his face makes things much more amusing in your eyes.

Your hands help him unbutton the buttons at the front of your shirt but he has the rest covered, it’s a ritual of sorts at this point. The game is simple, you tease and teases back and the next thing you know, he’s surrendered and is all over you. 

You don’t complain, it’s a pleasure for you to have him all over you.

You know things look different from the outside, they tend to when people hide the real faces behind and you both do. You’re known as friends, known each other for many years but there’s a lot more going on behind the scenes, there are whispered secrets and sounds of pleasure in between the closed doors.

And although this exchange started as a form of stress relief and purely for sex, you can’t deny the fact that it’s brought the two of you closer. There had been many times where he’d whisper things he’d heard around about your mutual friends, the ones who you met through in the first place. It would always earn a giggle from you because you’d know it to be true due to Alfie’s connections.

You recall the times you’d woken up and talked on hours and hours on end with him. That was how your friendship had always been and the sleeping together didn’t get in the way of it, thankfully. Alfie was also a man of knowledge so he always had something to say about something and you were more than willing to listen.

A small ‘oomph’ leaves your mouth when he lifts you up and properly places you on top of your desk, the scene is all to familiar as you stare at him in your mere undergarments. He looks at you like a lion looks at his pray, he’s sly about it, too. You pull him towards you not too long after, feeling his plump lips against yours while he kisses you, expertly.

“Alfie.” his name leaves your mouth but it’s a plea much more than anything. He finds it hard to restrain himself when it comes to you but somehow does it anyway.

You’re far too fragile, he thinks. It’s not only because of how small of a person you are but he sees the way you’re affected by each act of the ones around you. So he remains gentle with you, a lot more gentle than what he’s known for but it’s behind closed doors so he figures that it’s okay.

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” his voice is a hoarse whisper as you nod. He doesn’t like it when you silence your moans but he knows it’s necessary if this is to be kept under wraps.

His hands travel to meet your breasts, caressing and planting kisses on your collarbones but the kisses create a trail until he meets your lips again. You kiss him and it’s needy, needier than the time you’d kissed him suddenly last week.

He tries to forget.

You do these things at times, he thinks of them as little acts of kindness for the poor old jewish man he is. Last week, that had been kissing him when he came over, not when you were moaning his name in bed but when there was no reason to kiss him at all. It was small but it had managed to make him blush which was more than enough for you.

You let him take control until he’s deep inside, your back is against the wooden surface of the desk but the furniture is used to it by this point. You moan but it’s a quiet one, he manages to catch one of your silent pleas as he kisses your collarbones.

You hold onto his broad shoulders but your nails dig too deep into his skin for a moment so he stops his thrusts. They’re not fast like they usually are since he chooses to go slower than usual today. There’s a look of concern in his eyes as he stops the movements and feels you tighten around him. He soon questions.

“Did that hurt, luv?” he speaks against your skin, much like how he imagines to whisper ‘mine’ against it and you feel his hot breath against the soft skin of your collarbone. You give him a shake of your head.

“No, I’m just a little sore from last week.” you say and he finds it to be amusing but true regardless. He’d been like an animal last week, fucking you in every chance he got and the last time you had seen him was when he’d made love to you in the roughest way possible for hours straight. 

You weren’t complaining.

“I’ll take it easy then, yeah?” he says but it’s more of a statement of some sort. He’s telling himself to go easier on you.

You nod but your hips say otherwise when you start grinding again. A moan filled with filth leaves his mouth and you can’t help but feel even more aroused than you already were. He feels the shocks of want go through you and moves not too long after.

There he is, then, his skin glistening against yours as he takes you right there and then on your desk. It’s almost a classic one for the both of you to fuck against a desk of some form since you both lead busy lives filled with work.

The moonlight kisses his skin as he grunts and moans every now and then. Your hands find his hair and back, caressing and pulling with every thrust and you know there’s probably a couple workers left on the first floor but they don’t matter at that moment.

When the moment of ecstasy washes over you, you find yourself too wobbly to move so Alfie helps you after fastening his belt. You take his hand and murmur a small ‘thank you’ as he watches you fix yourself up.

He admires you for a second there, lips plump and cheeks rosy under the gentle moonlight as you complain about a button he’s managed to rip. It’s innocent, not a complaint but more like you’re stating a fact that he’s ripped a button. He hums and watches you hop off the table and get your shoes.

You catch him staring, you know what he’s gonna say.

He had been wanting to take you out, properly ever since the first time you’d slept together even though he knew you wanted this thing to be under wraps, he did want that too at first. You offered him a curious look and since he’d never been the one to shy away from saying what was on his mind, his low voice filled the room.

“Luv, about that dinner, yeah..” he starts speaking and it’s not a whisper like last time, he’s genuinely talking to you when your eyes meet his. But it’s too risky, you tell yourself, it’s not what you wanted out of this.

Or maybe it is.

You find the lines of want and need to be blurred when it comes to Alfie. He’s what you crave but also a luxury you came to have after the first couple times. He sees the look of uncertainty so his words disappear and you speak instead.

“Alfie.” you speak, knowing that what you’re about to say will hurt him but you need to do it for your own sake.“We��re just…friends.” 

He scoffs at your words. He has every right to do so.

You’re not so daft as to think that this thing between you and Alfie is just you being friends. You know friends don’t sneak around to make out in every party they go to, it’s not the usual act. 

You know he’s a friend, a dear one at that but not everything plays out the way you want it to.

He seems agitated at your words, angry even but not the raging kind. He seems broken, his anger is mixed somewhere in his eyes with his sadness and frustration. He knows you’re fragile but he can’t help but say the things his head screams at him.

“Friends don’t do this type of shit!” his voice is booming, loud enough to make you slightly jump as he stares right at you with the kind of eyes that make you shiver inside.

You nod at his words, knowing he’s right but there’s not much to do. You need to cut him off right then and there or else, it’s going to break you in little pieces to let him go. 

It’ll be nicer, you think. If you let him go easily, then the fall won’t be so bad. He’ll recover, he’ll get better and you’ll be your old self again. He sees the tears in your eyes but there’s only the shake of your head this time. You seem defeated.

“I don’t think..” you speak, sobs threatening to come out but you’re quick to shut them down. “I don’t think us doing this is a good idea anymore.” your voice is a mere whisper as he stares at you, there’s no anger on his face now. It’s just agony.

It’s not your fault, you think. He’s the one that said yes, even though you had taken the initiative. This arrangement was doomed from the start, you both know that but it’s a matter of who gets out first now.

He feels wounded, as if you’ve used him for sex and left him broken hearted but he’s managed to do the same thing to you. You gulp, there are way too many emotions swimming in his coloured orbs but you manage to gather enough courage to look directly in them.

“Ya’ don’t want to fuck anymore, yeah, is that it?” he speaks, voice filled with pure anger and a hint of confusion.

That’s not it, he knows you don’t wish for this to stop but it’s the rational thing to do, or at least it is according to you.

“You know that’s not why.” you say, you know your voice is shaky from the way you sound but it’s better than nothing given to the man before you.

He decorates the most dreamiest dreams of yours. You see him and his moonlit features each time you sleep, a smile on his lips as he tells you the things you want to hear. 

You know friends do not wake up next to each other and try to get out before the other wakes up. It’s not usual behaviour to sneak out of each party, hand in hand to find somewhere more secluded and private. You know all this, he doesn’t have to tell you.

“Do you really want to keep doing this, Alfie?” you ask him this time, voice soft as you try to reason with him to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t see why not.” he says in a split second, like he’s had the answer all along. His blue eyes pierce into yours, waiting for an answer of some sort.

All he gets is a scoff from you.

It’s not because you’re not agreeing with the idea, if anything, something clicks at that moment.

If he’s willing to go on with this, why wouldn’t you join him?

It’s reckless, something you will scold yourself for doing afterwards but you figure, why not take a risk. You’ve played safe until this moment, there have been no exciting adventures and very rare adrenaline rushes. 

And he’s your chance.

You speak with the shake of your head, a faded smile on your lips because now, he’ll be dancing with the devil herself.

“Alright then.” his eyes flicker at your words but you keep on speaking.

“This is a game two can play.”

-------

Tagging: @clairecrive ​  @parkbearum​  @sourirez ​  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog​

a/n: I may or may not continue this, let me know if you want another part!

Stay safe 

x

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Love Yet Known Part 2

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Thanks for the love for the first part! Heres for you, @97freaknik. Sorry the tagging system isn’t working. 

And thank you to my permanent tag who have yet to block me despite my spamming of works. 

          The drive to London was almost absolutely silent. Neither Alfie nor Eliza really knew what to say to one another. It was as if they were just acting out something for the sake of Tommy. Neither of them exactly knew how they’d ended up in such a predicament.

            Alfie’s mind was racing, wondering how stupid he was to agree to something like marrying a Shelby. He thought about the ramifications, was there even a rabbi who would consider converting her and allowing them to marry? What sort of effect would this have on his life in the long run?

            He glanced to his left where Eliza had been sitting quietly since they’d left Warwickshire. Her eyes were locked on the window, never turning her head. He wondered if she was wishing she was on the outside, not in the car with him. Maybe she figured if she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t have to think of the arrangement.  

            Alfie cleared his throat, the silence too uncomfortable for his liking. “Erm, you like dogs?” He asked.

            She looked away from the window to show she had heard him. “Pardon?”

            “Dogs? Do you like dogs? I have a dog.” He clarified. “He ain’t mean or anything. I bought him to be a guard dog but he had other plans. Too nice for his own good.”

            A hint of a smile formed on her lips. The sense of humor didn’t exactly fit his image. But it did help her relax a little. “Yes, I like dogs.”

            “Good. That’s good. I sorta have a nasty habit of picking up strays.” He admitted. “I don’t keep all of ‘em. There’s a charity that a dear friend of mine runs. They train dogs to help blind people. So, they take in most of the strays.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It was strange. It was almost as if he was trying to list off his good traits so Eliza wouldn’t look at him like he was a monster. Maybe he could put her mind at ease. “But, Cyril I kept. Cyril’s me dog. I kept him, couldn’t give him away.” The silence on Eliza’s end was killing him. He wanted her to say exactly what she thought about him. Most people who worked for him kept their opinions to themselves. Most of his business partners/enemies were vocal about what they thought. But neither of those opinions mattered. Because none of those people were intending to marry him. If they were to marry, Alfie wanted to know Eliza’s opinion of him. Even if she said she hated him and wished him dead, at least he would know.

            “He sounds lovely.” She said politely.

            “Yeah…he is.” Alfie fiddled with one of his rings. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make this work. It gave him a headache thinking about it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Much to Alfie’s relief, Eliza took immediately to Cyril. The bullmastiff seemed to enjoy a female presence in the flat. At least she didn’t feel completely alone in Camden Town. Alfie just felt a little guilty that her only companion was a slobbery, goofy dog.

            Still, he capitalized on her affection for the mutt. He allowed her to take Cyril out for walks whenever she pleased and didn’t say anything when Cyril started to sleep in her bedroom.

            Meanwhile, Alfie was trying to figure out the complicated matters of converting Eliza so they could get married. Tommy continued to call to push the matter. It was clear over the phone that he was desperate to make the union complete. The Italians would be closing in at any time and Tommy didn’t need another threat from Camden Town to weigh on him.

            “Y’know, I know you’re godless, Tommy. I understand that, but us godly men have rules and those rules simply cannot be tampered with. Centuries of laws, mate, can’t be overturned ‘cause you find it inconvenient.” Alfie said over the phone.

            “I gave you money to ensure it.”

            “Right, well some rabbis take bribes as an insult, mate.”

            “Alfie, if you’re holding out on me…” Tommy warned.

            “She’s been living with me for nearly a month, Thomas, if I really wanted to back out, I would’ve sent her home to you.” He cut the man off.

            Tommy muttered something over the line but Alfie couldn’t hear what it was.

            “There’s a rabbi that Ollie found that might go through with the conversion and marriage,” Alfie said. “When I hear from him, I’ll let you know.”

            The Blinder seemed to have his worries put to rest at least for the time being. “And how is she doing there?”

            “Well, her best friend is me dog,” Alfie replied honestly. “She hardly speaks to me, not that I blame her much.”

            “She’s always been quiet,” Tommy assured him.

            “Well, circumstances ‘n such.” Alfie sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Anyways, I’ll let you know, Tom. I’ll let you know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~           

            One night a couple of days later, Alfie and Eliza were sat down together for dinner. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve found rabbis who are willing to convert you.” He brought up the topic.

            “Oh. Okay.” She nodded.

            Alfie had learned over the few weeks together that she was a difficult person to read. She was a lot like Tommy, and less like her other brothers who were prone to showing their emotions on the outside. She always spoke to him in a calm, steady, and polite manner. Almost as if she were afraid of setting him off, or it was simply just her demeanor. Alfie would’ve preferred if she were a bit more like Arthur, as terrible as that would be. At least he would know what she was thinking instead of having to guess.

            “Didya…well…have ya put any thought into it? I mean, ain’t a small decision.”

            Eliza shrugged as she pushed her food around the plate with her fork. “I haven’t put much thought into religion.” She admitted. “Polly was the only one who took Christianity seriously in our family.”

            “Right.” He nodded. “Still, being Jewish is more a way of life, innit?”

            “That’s what I’ve been told.” Alfie had arranged for Ollie’s wife to give some insight to Eliza into what it meant to be a Jewish wife. He assumed they’d bonded, but Eliza didn’t say much about it. Though, she did frequently visit Ruth and her and Ollie’s pack of kids. She never said what they spoke about.

            “Right. Well, just wanted to know what your thoughts about it were.” He posed the question again, hoping to get a little further into her mindset.

            “Ruth said if we were going to have children, they needed to be brought up fully Jewish. Or at least, that’s what she thought your intentions were.”

            Alfie cleared his throat. How could they discuss children? Of course, it was a factor but a child wouldn’t just magically appear once they were married. And they hadn’t even touched each other aside from the mistaken brush of an arm. “Well, right.” He tilted his head to the side, hoping suddenly for an interruption so he could leave the conversation.

            “Alfie?”

            The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was the first time she had addressed him by name. The way she spoke his name was so soft. Like nothing, he’d heard before. “Hm?” He couldn’t exactly speak properly.

            “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Afraid? Well, I’d hope not. I told your brothers that I ain’t here to hurt you.”

            “Then why do you walk on eggshells around me?”

            Alfie opened his mouth but only let out a small, confused grumble. It must’ve been that Shelby wit that had gotten them there. She was so good at concealing her feelings that Alfie looked like a fool. Dancing around the topic, trying to please her, giving her everything she wanted. God, he must’ve looked like a sap.

            She smiled slightly. “I didn’t expect you to try to impress me so much. The way my brothers spoke of you, I was expecting something else entirely.”

            He drummed his fingers on the table. “There’s a difference, yeah, ‘tween business and me personal life. What your brothers see ain’t what you’ll see.” He tried to explain.

            It was different from her family’s mentality, or Tommy’s to be more specific. In the Shelby family, everyone dealt with family business. There were no exceptions unless you absconded. Even then, it was tricky to escape business. But it appeared Alfie was keener to keep his two lives separate. Eliza considered how this difference might benefit her.

            “All the day’s shit, yeah, it gets left at the fucking door.” He pointed down the hall toward the front door. “This is sorta a sanctuary, innit?”

            Eliza nodded. “That sounds nice.”

            “Nice, yeah it is nice.” He agreed.

            They were quiet for a moment, neither of them really wanted to return to the conversation topic of children. It seemed too fresh.

            “Ruth is trying to teach me how to cook kosher.” She spoke up after a bit. It was the first time she offered any information without Alfie prompting her. Maybe because now she felt the flat was a safe place for her. “Just, I dunno if you were wondering why I’m there for so long.”

            Alfie shrugged. “I’m glad you two have gotten along. Didn’t want you to feel lonely here.” He admitted and went back to eating before his dinner went cold.  

            Eliza watched him for a split second. So, he cared about how she felt? Imagine that.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It took quite a bit of convincing to get the rabbis to convert Eliza. Wrestling with tradition, Alfie knew he was asking for a lot. But the conversion went through and under Jewish law, he was allowed to marry her. Not that he was looking for some massive wedding. It would be best to call the least amount of attention to himself as possible. The Camden community might not take kindly to his bride-to-be if they found out she was a convert. And if they found out she was a Shelby? Well, granted, Alfie was scary enough to thwart off criticism. But he didn’t want the rumors to get around to Eliza. He didn’t want her to feel unwelcome.

            In reality, Alfie felt as though he was going mad. Since when had he given two shits about someone’s comfort? His job was basically to make people feel uncomfortable so they’d be more willing to listen. But apparently, Eliza had made quite an impact on him.

            She fit in very nicely in his flat. Never made a fuss or anything. That wasn’t to say she was like a little dormouse. She wasn’t very tidy. Alfie chalked this up to her growing up with five siblings. He didn’t particularly mind, though. It was nice to see the flat actually lived in. For so long it had been just a place to sleep. But Alfie realized he had grown fond of coming home late from work and finding traces of Eliza throughout the house.

            A dirty pan in the sink, her book on the sofa, a couple of hairpins on the coffee table, and the stray teacup with cold tea that had been forgotten about.

            For a brief moment, as he cleaned up, he wondered if their children would be just as messy. Alfie could imagine coming home to the floor littered with toys. It brought a smile to his face.

            Of course, children was still a conversation they had to have. Alfie loathed the fact that they had to get over that little mountain of a decision. He wouldn’t dare force anything onto her. Purely by his own standards and morals. Plus, the added benefit of getting a bullet in his head courtesy of the Shelby boys.

            So, he waited and hoped that was something they could get to. Because, despite their relationship still being merely two people who lived together, he did like her. More so, even.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The wedding, although very traditional in the ritual sense, was very small. Only a few people very close to Alfie attended if only to witness the union. There wasn’t a reception or party to follow. No grand affair.

            They simply walked out of the building as man and wife.

            “Alfie, can I ask you something?”

            “’Course.” It was a bit strange. Eliza was standing in the foyer as he went to go feed Cyril. Standing in her wedding dress, she looked a bit out of place.

            “I know what is…expected of us tonight.” She wrung her hands together. “But I don’t think I’m quite ready. I’m sorry I just…”

            Alfie felt oddly relieved. He was hoping she would say something, otherwise, he’d feel like a monster if she went through with consummating the marriage and she wasn’t ready. “No reason to apologize, love.” He walked back out of the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. “Ain’t any rush.”

            “I appreciate that.” She said softly. “Thank you.”

            “So…I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ve got to work early.”

            “I’ll make breakfast.” She offered.

            “Nah, that’s alright. You don’t need to get up so early.”

            “I don’t mind…”

            “S’alright, love.” He gave her a warm smile and held out an arm, allowing her to go upstairs first.

            Eliza smiled back, feeling her cheeks warm a bit. She went upstairs, allowing Cyril to trot by her.

            “I had a few things shipped in from Paris. Sorta wedding gift, if you will. I hope you don’t mind, I asked Ruth if she could help me.” Alfie said as he climbed the stairs behind her. “I left it on your bed.”

            “Oh, Alfie, you didn’t need to-”

            “S’alright.” He assured her, meeting her at the top of the stairs. “You Shelbys like nice things, aye?”

            She shrugged. “I’m a Solomons now.” She pointed out.

            He let out a brief chuckle. “Yeah, that’s true. F’ya want, we can get a nice box for your dress. Maybe to store it? I dunno, me mum did the same thing. I still have her dress, fuck if I know what I’m gonna do with it. But she-well it were the only thing she brought from Russia.”

            “I understand, it’s important to you.” Eliza agreed.

            Alfie rubbed a hand over his beard. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Well, I won’t keep you up.”

            “Goodnight, Alfie.” She smiled at him before going down the hall to her room. Like he said, there was a large box on her bed. After shutting the door, Eliza opened the top and found an array of beautiful pieces of clothing that must’ve cost a fortune. Beaded gowns, satin gloves, a fur-lined coat, and much more. Eliza carefully unpacked everything, folding the items or hanging them up in the closet. Then she landed on a pair of silk pajamas that looked like what picture stars wore. A gorgeous burgundy color with embroidered designs on the cuffs of the shirt and pants.

            She smiled and felt her heart skip a beat. It had been a little unnerving knowing that she would become a Jewish wife. There were a lot of changes she had to make, moving to Camden, marrying Alfie, and trying to keep her end of the bargain by converting. But in the end, she was still married to a gangster. One who, although he looked simply, did like luxury items. And maybe it was how he was trying to show his affection for her.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Married life wasn’t all that different for Alfie. He continued to work the same tireless hours and continued to keep up his agenda of legal and illegal operations. Mostly illegal.

            What changed was coming home to a gentle person who had a good skill of keeping the flat calm. Alfie assumed that like the other Shelbys, Eliza would manage to only raise his blood pressure. But she had the opposite effect.

            She had become more of an open book with him, which led Alfie to believe they were moving in the right direction. She told him more about what she did during the day. Mainly, she spent her time with Ruth and some of the other women in the neighborhood.

            It was nice to hear things that weren’t related to business. Alfie’s entire life was business. Now he had someone else to occupy his thoughts.

            As the weeks wore on, both Eliza and Alfie began talking on a more intimate level. Soon she found she was telling him things not even her siblings knew. Things that were very personal to her.       

            She also began to notice Alfie stealing a few looks her way. Meanwhile, she found herself looking forward to seeing him every day and often was disappointed if he worked late and she fell asleep before he came home. Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her or called her pet names. She figured it was just instinct, something he did to everyone. But it felt special to her.

            Eliza realized, when winter came, that there was no reason for her sheepishness. They were married, after all. If she wanted to further their relationship, all she had to do was ask.

            So, she did. One night, Alfie came home late from work. He picked at some leftovers waiting for him, before heading upstairs. His hip was bothering him as the days got colder, so he wasn’t in a grand mood. When he reached the second floor, the door to Eliza’s room opened.           

            “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to wake you.”

            “You didn’t, I was waiting for you to get home.” She lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, I would’ve kept you company while you ate.”

            “S’alright, didn’t eat much.” He shrugged. “There something you needed?”

            “Well, yes.” She walked into the hallway. It felt a little silly asking her husband what she was going to ask. So, Eliza gained some of that Shelby confidence and looked him in the eye. “Will you kiss me?”

            It certainly wasn’t what Alfie expected. He thought maybe she wanted to use the car or needed some spending cash. So, he felt a little bad that he was silent for so long, but he didn’t know what to say. “Erm, I didn’t-well-”

            Eliza began to clam up, fearing she had overstepped a line. Maybe it was all in her head and Alfie didn’t really like her all that much. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked…”

            Alfie caught her hand before she could scurry back to her room. He drew her closer and his other hand cupped her cheek. His eyes searched her face before he kissed her, trying to get a mental image of her locked in his head. The tiny bit of freckles on her face, the wintery blue eyes looking up, yearning, and the way her lips parted slightly. He would catalog the little bits of information away because he couldn’t imagine how this would last long. Nothing good in life ever lasted long and Eliza was one of the best damn things that ever happened to him.

            That night, Eliza slept in Alfie’s room for the first time. It was how she came to the realization that her husband was just a big bear. Grumpy, stubborn, yet he cared for his own. Eliza liked that. She had grown up around bristly love. Polly marched them to mass every Sunday no matter how much they complained because she wanted to ‘save their souls’. Arthur would gladly murder any boy who gave her even the slightest of looks. Tommy was stern but she found out later it was because they had no father figure so he had to take on the role. And John? Well, John pretended to hate his twin sister. He wanted to appear tough in front of his friends and teased her at school. But every night, when there was no available light to read, he conjured up a story for her.

            Other people may not have understood, but Eliza knew that real relationships couldn’t be found in the pages of her books. She liked Alfie because he was real. The most real thing she’d ever known.

            After that night, their relationship bloomed much faster. They found married life soothing when others found it stressful. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that Alfie started to cut back on late nights at the bakery. It meant more to Eliza than he might have realized.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            As the situation with the Italians got more intense, Alfie started to realize how much their relationship had grown. He found himself contacting Tommy more often, demanding information about what Luca Changretta was doing. He wanted to ensure there would be no threat to his London empire and there would be no threat to his wife.

            His anxiety about everything reached a boiling point when Eliza disappeared one morning. Had he looked in his study, he would’ve seen the note she left for him saying that she was taking the car to visit her family in Small Heath.

            But he didn’t. So, he naturally assumed something bad happened and rallied a search team. He was at his wit's end, practically tearing his hair out.

            When Eliza arrived home, unharmed and acting normally, he lost his cool.

            “Where the fuck have you been?” He demanded when she walked through the door as if nothing had happened.

            Eliza looked taken aback. He’d never taken such a harsh tone with her. “Pardon?”

            “I’ve half me men out looking for you, you think it’s alright to just disappear like that?”

            “Alfie, I left you a fucking note on your desk.” She snapped, not happy he was talking to her in such a way. He usually was very respectful.

            He looked a bit hesitant, maybe he had neglected to see the note. But he was still too upset to admit he was in the wrong. “You could’ve told me, aye? Where were you?”

            “What does it matter?” She asked defensively, trying to pass by him in the hallway.

            “Because there’s a man out there who wants to wipe out your entire family, Liz!” He snapped, standing in her way so she couldn’t shrug off his concern.

            “You don’t think I know that?”

            “You have no idea where he could be or what he could’ve done to you!”

            “I was in Small Heath, I was perfectly okay.” She retorted. “I have the right to go where I please.”

            “Small Heath?” Alfie looked at her in disbelief. To think she could go that far and think she would be fine on her own. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

            “Do not take that tone with me!” She held strong against him. “If I want to see my family, I can. You can’t keep me locked up in Camden.”

            “That ain’t…” He let out a frustrated noise. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel trapped. “I don’t understand why you just up and left. What did you need to do there?”

            “That’s my business.”

            “Liz-”

            “You don’t control me, Alfie.”

            “I know!” He shouted. “You don’t think I know that? But I care too much about you to let you be killed because of what your fucking brother has gotten your family into!”

            Eliza’s lower lip wobbled and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I went because I was late. My aunt confirmed it, I’m pregnant.”

            Alfie was knocked right in the gut by the news. What he thought would never happen was now a reality. “Liz…”

            “Just fuck off.” She spat and turned to head upstairs. But she paused halfway. “I was so excited to tell you and this is how I’m treated? You can sleep on the couch.” She stomped upstairs and slammed the door shut before locking it.

            Alfie felt like an absolute imbecile. He was notorious for letting his temper get the better of him. But he was proud of himself for never letting Eliza see that side of him. Now he had mucked up what they’d been building for months.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~          

            Eliza didn’t come down for dinner or breakfast the next day. Alfie decided to try and speak with her before he went to the bakery for the day.

            His first knock was met with silence.

            “Eliza, please, just let me apologize.” He said as he knocked again.

            “Go to hell, Alfie.” She finally replied.

            He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Love, I’m tryna apologize, here!” He exclaimed. “What else do you want me to do?”

            There was another bout of silence before the door swung open. “You think an apology is some grandiose gesture?” She demanded. “Alfie, I’ve walked across hot coals for you and you don’t even realize.”

            “M’tryna…I don’t know what you want me to say.” He grimaced, realizing how shit he was at relationships sometimes.

            “I went to Small Heath and you know what Ada said to me? She asked me about my headscarf. She said it was oppressive and I never should’ve converted for you. She said you would never be able to do anything that comes close to what I’ve done for you. Do you want to know what I said?”

            Alfie nodded.

            “I said she was wrong. I told her that you treated me right. You respected me. You were there for me and appreciated the person I was. I converted for you, I married you, and now I’m going to give you a child. So, don’t act like you have this authority over me when I’ve done so much for you.”

            He sighed. “You’re right, love. It were wrong for me to treat you like that.” He acknowledged in a rare event of humility. “But me worst fear is losing you. ‘Cause you’re the only thing on this Earth that means a damn to me. If I lost you if that fucker killed you? I’d never forgive myself. I would spend the rest of me days mourning.”

            Eliza’s tense stance relaxed a bit when she heard the genuine concern in his voice. His anger was out of fear. She knew men like Alfie had a hard time addressing their fears because they weren’t meant to be scared of anything. Her voice softened. “I’m not going anywhere.” She promised. “You have me until the end of time.”

            “And you have me.”

            She smiled and stepped into his arms so he could hold her close. “That’s good to know.”

              Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

@fuseburner​

PB Masterlist

[vacker-jew-au]

Chapter 2: Fuck Livvy But Like In A Different Way

Summary: Livvy is such a good parent for the Vackers, but the kids aren’t the only reason she stuck around.

Or

Livvy is a little over the top in getting Della to go on a date with her

XxX

✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈✡️🏳️‍🌈

It was late, but unpacking seemed to take even longer than packing had. Not even half of the boxes were empty yet. All Della wanted was to collapse on the bed she apparently now shared with Livvy, but she kept emptying the boxes. It still didn’t feel entirely real that she’d moved.

So much had already happened that night. They leaped all the boxes over. They started to decorate the kids’ room. They quickly realized Della couldn’t share a room with the two little monsters. So, awkwardly stumbling around like the teenagers they were the last time they spent a night together, they came to the conclusion she would sleep in Livvy’s bed, with Livvy. Though Livvy apologized over and over they both knew it was okay, in fact, a small voice whispered that it was much more than just okay, Della shook it off.

And that’s how the two of them wound up sprawled on the couches, half unpacked boxes open all around them, laughing about their school days. Despite being high off a lack of sleep and a tad flustered, Della was having a great time.

“You remember how,” Della giggled, “Oralie and I were so close-” she coughed “-and practically dating, but!”

Livvy smiled, because, wow she’s so cute when she laughs, and Della grinned back because Livvy was listening and patient while she took a minute to breathe.

“She never even noticed,” Della finally said. “I gave her crush cuffs and she still didn’t know we were dating! I mean, I’m a disaster bisexual, so I know about obliviousness, but that’s kind of taking it to a whole new level.”

Livvy laughed. “She’s aroace, love, it was nothing against you.” She froze. “Shoot, I outed her, shoot!”

To be perfectly honest, Della had barely noticed everything else Livvy said, focusing instead on the endearment. She called me “love.” Love, that thing I promised myself I wouldn’t fall into, but already I have. Panicking, she brushed the thought aside and tried to concentrate on the conversation. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to, I haven’t even spoken to her in years. I’ll just forget about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Livvy agreed, nodding. “So, now that you’ve dumped Alden- good riddance, by the way, he sucks- are you interested in dating anyone else?”

Like maybe me? She continued silently.

Della choked on her water and fought down a blush. “Um… I don’t think I will for a while? But you?” as in I want to date you, but I can't think that. She wouldn’t want to, would she?

Livvy frowned. Della’s answer was too panicked, too quick. Did she know that Livvy was trying to flirt with her? Probably, and she wasn’t interested. “I don’t know… maybe,” she muttered. “I mean, I kind of like a girl, but… I don’t think she likes me back.”

“Oh no, that sucks. To be honest? Me too,” Della looked away.

“Um… bedtime?” Livvy asked. Della nodded.

The next morning Biana poked Fitz until he woke up, “finally! Fitz, Mom is cuddling with Livvy!!”

“Shhh!” He hissed, “You're gonna wake them up.”

“Oh shit,” Biana whispered. Fitz punched her lightly.

✡️✡️✡️

Biana and Livvy quickly became close, in fact, they were so close that Biana started to think of her as a second mom. Fitz loved her too, Alden never had time for him, but Livvy? She taught him how to play Bramble, practiced Tae Kwon Do with him, helped him with baking because she noticed his ever-growing love of it. Fitz loved baking with his two moms, and he couldn’t help but notice the long looks and gentle touches they exchanged.

“Boop!” Della giggled, touching Livvy’s nose with flour on her fingertips. Livvy swatted her hand away and wiped her nose on Della’s cheek.

“Ha! Who’s the flour girl now?” Livvy grinned.

Whether she intended to or not Livvy had quickly become the parent Alden never was. It was nearly two months later when Della and the kids finally moved out and there was no question of whether Livvy would stay in their lives.

Even so, both kids were disappointed that Livvy wasn’t spending nearly as much time with them. She came over for dinner a few nights a week, but she wasn’t just down the hall when Biana had a nightmare, and she couldn’t help Fitz with his homework whenever he needed it.

Still, the kids cherished the time they had with Livvy, even if it wasn’t as often. Because it had started to interfere with Della’s work schedule, and Livvy took an interest in learning about the family’s religion, she agreed to take them to Hebrew school.

While they were on their way, Livvy’s tone turned from laughing about Fitz’s dramatic retelling of his best friend’s Great Gulon Incident to more serious. “Kids, I’m going to tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won’t tell your mom. Like, pinky promise.”

Fitz and Biana nodded solemnly and took turns pinky promising her.

“Alright, here goes. I have a crush on your mom and I want to ask if she’ll date me.”

Although neither of them were particularly surprised, Fitz and Biana exchanged excited glances. “I bet Mom will say yes!” Biana piped up. “She sometimes acts like she has a crush on you too!”

Livvy blushed. “Maybe. I hope so. But anyway, I know being Jewish is very special to you and your mom, so I want to make that a part of how I ask her out. And I don’t know a whole lot about Judaism yet, so I wanted to know if you two could help me.”

“Tu B’Av is coming soon,” Fitz suggested. “It’s kind of like the Jewish version of Valentine’s Day. Maybe you could do something then?”

“Okay, so, kiddos, are you down to help me plan?”

Biana squealed a loud “Yes!! Oh my goshhhh!!!”

And so plotting commenced. Tu B’av was on Sunday, a day the kids often visited, and they quickly figured out that the living room was a great dance floor if you moved the couches out of the way. Fitz found a recipe for rugelach and debated the best way to make them heart-shaped, individually or as a pull-apart type dish?

Biana was put on strawberry-dipping duty, the best she could do in the kitchen. She was a pro at decorating even then, so she helped Livvy with the living room. There were a couple bouquets of pink roses and lavender and the table looked better than any caterer could make it.

✡️✡️✡️

When Della finally arrived, Livvy was in the kitchen, she was scared, sweating. Biana pushed her into the living room, gave her a thumbs up and stage-whispered “You got this!” Della had no idea what was going on, and the assortment of flowers and heart shaped rugelach added to the confusion.

“Livvy?”

“Della- I- okay.”

“Liv?” Della asked, concerned

Livvy swallowed. “Um… tu b’av sameach?”

“Tu b’av sameach,” Della replied tentatively, smiling, scared to guess what she was about to say.

“Della, I love you so much, and I love your children and I love being with you. I want- Della, I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. I just….”

Della takes Livvy’s face and pulls her in, kissing her gently, but forcefully.

“You better not be joking,” she whispers against Livvy’s lips, feeling like a teenager, she really shouldn’t question this.

“Does this look like a joke?” Livvy grinned, pulling back and showing her the room.

“Liv, this is- this is amazing.”

Livvy beamed.

“Wait, where are the monsters?” Della asked.

A little hand poked out from the kitchen doorway, pressing play on the phone Livvy had set up for music.

“Hi, Mom,” Biana grinned.

“Bye, Mama, Mom,” Fitz smiled behind her. “We’re going to Keefe’s.” They stood in the backyard and waved as they leaped.

The song faded and a new one began. Della recognized it immediately.

“Love of my life.”

Livvy pretended to continue the sentence, “dance with me?”

And then they were standing chest to chest swaying.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart, and now you leave me

They stepped back and forth, neither sure exactly how to dance with another woman.

When I grow older

I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you

Livvy spun Della out and as she dipped low crooned, “I still love you.”

Della tilted her head up and kissed her. Suddenly they weren’t dancing so much as kissing while standing in the middle of the room.

“Oh, Liv…..”

Livvy pulled Della with her to sit at the table. “Rugellach?” she offered. Della took one happily and laughed when she realized it was shaped like a heart.

“This is wonderful, Liv.”

“You’re wonderful,” Livvy replied, and Della blushed.

“How did you know about Tu B’av?” she asked, slightly breathless after they kissed again. “I didn’t think you knew much about Judaism.”

“I don’t,” admitted Livvy. “Your kids suggested it when I was picking them up from Hebrew school. I said I wanted to do something Jewish and romantic for you and they told me about it. Though I do want to learn more about Judaism so I can celebrate with you and your family.”

Della teared up a little, thinking about the contrast between Livvy and Alden. Thinking about the way she loved Livvy, loved her kids, Keefe, Grady, Edaline, her old mentors, the Rabbi.

“Today truly is a day for love.”

[ren1327]

Sweater Weather ch.5

Ben and Kenji watched Bumpy as she slept on Ben’s lap, Carmen sitting next to him to stroke her flank as she read her new manga, brown eyes scanning over each detail of the art.

Kenji had sat on the sofa and Ben flush against him, acting as the comfortable partner and lover.

But Ben couldn’t help but feel how comfortable Kenji was. How well he fit to his side. How warm this image of them with a dog and his sister relaxing in the living room was. He leaned his head back and Kenji looked away from the movie to nuzzle in his hair.

Ben wanted this to real if only to feel the comfort and trust in that single moment.

“Dinner’s ready.” Candy said as she came in, pausing to look at them and smile.

Bumpy yipped and stood, stretching before she followed Candy to her new bowl in the corner of the dining room on a soft rug.

Ben got up and Kenji followed, Carmen calling she wanted to finish the next few pages.

Kenji pulled out Ben’s chair and smiled when he sat down with a soft thank you.

Once Carmen was seated, Kenji sat between where Kosei would sit at the head and Ben.

Candy brought out a savory casserole with meat, cheese, tortillas and chili. She then placed down bowls of red rice, refried beans, chips, red and green salsa and cabbage.

“Enchilada casserole!” Carmen said excitedly, then looked at Ben from across the table. “It’s Kenji’s favorite!”

Kenji nodded and was happy to help Ben fill his plate.

Once he had a substantial amount of everything, Ben noticed they were watching him. He then saw that they were holding hands.

“Are you comfortable with grace, Ben?” Candy asked.

“I…yes ma’am.” He said and took Kenji’s and Carmen’s hands.

The family closed their eyes and he noticed only Candy and Kenji bowed their heads. He quickly closed his own eyes as Candy prayed outload.

“Dear provider and father above, thank you for reuniting our family this winter. Thank you for the safe journey of my son and our transition into our new home. Thank you for blessing us with Ben and Bumpy. And thank you for giving us so much more to be thankful for and love. And we say”

“Amen.” She and her family chorused.

Ben lowered his hands and smiled, blushing as he held back tears.

“Ben?!” Carmen asked and Ben quickly wiped his cheeks.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve prayed.”

“We don’t expect you to be obligated to, Honey.” Candy said and Kosei nodded.

“How you express or don’t express your faith is up to you. But thank you for joining our thanks.” Kosei said gently.

“Does your family have a faith?”

“I uh, I think we were Jewish.” He said.

“Think you were?” Kosei asked.

“Um, my mom was the religious one and um…my Uncle got work overseas so it’s uh…just been me.” He said.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to stress my uncle out and he knew I was with friends and I haven’t…I haven't even told him about Kenji to be honest. It’s been so long and I…”

“Oh, Sweetie.” Candy whispered. “and your mother—”

“Mom.” Kenji said and she covered her mouth in surprised.

Kosei sighed softly as Carmen looked from her parents to Ben, slowly putting the pieces together.

“Oh, Ben. I'm sorry…” She whispered.

“It’s okay. She’s with my dad and I know if I work hard, I can make them proud.” He said, sounding robotic at this point.

“Well, if it’s not too candid…You always have a place in this family. Even as a friend.” Kosei said and Ben smiled, wiping his cheeks again.

“I’m sorry. I made dinner awkward.”

Kenji put a hand on his and look him in the eye. “Never be sorry for expressing how you feel.”

Ben nodded as he looked down at his food. He took a bite…

And coughed hard, grabbing a napkin and holding it to his running nose and burning mouth.

“Oh my gosh!” Carmen said and gave Ben his water. “Kenji! Did you give him the green salsa?!”

“What? It’s not that hot?” Kenji said, grabbing his own napkin for Ben to switch out.

“Mijo, you’ve been eating jalapenos since you were in diapers! Mamita, get him some of the banana milk.” She said.

Carmen quickly got up and returned, twisting open a school cafeteria looking yellow bottle of milk and handing it to Ben, who sipped it slowly, panting softly as he finished it. He then whirled on his pretend boyfriend.

“You’re not human!” He said to Kenji, who was trying to hold back his laughter.

“Stop…stop laughing…” Carmen said, placing a hand over her mouth to hide her own smile.

“I reacted horribly the first time I had the green salsa too, Ben.” Kosei said. “I was sweating while pretending I wasn’t affected, then got sick later.”

“I told you not to put so much. You need to build up to that amount!” Candy said and Ben laughed imaging such a regal looking man sweating and red faced.

“Okay. Stay away from the green sauce.” Ben said. “I’ll remember for next time.”

He took a bite of the casserole and nearly melted.

“Wow…”

“One of the perks of my marriage.” Kosei joked, making Candy huff and roll her eyes with a smile.

“One of many, I hope.” She said.

Kosei took her hand. “Too many to count.”

“Ew. Mom. Dad.”

“Oh, they get to flirt, but us older folk don’t?” She asked her daughter, who giggled.

“So!” Carmen said, gaining everyone’s attention. “How did you two meet?”

“Online.”

“Friends.”

Ben and Kenji looked at each other and Kenji stuttered.

“W-well, we met through friends online…”

Ben put his hand over Kenji’s, smiling at him with steely eyes. Kenji’s mouth shut as Ben hunched his shoulders.

“Its kind of embarrassing really.” He started. “You see, he was video chatting with Sammy. And Sammy and I have been friends for so long…we were comfortable around each other. So one day, while Yaz was at a retreat, I had gotten out of the shower and was only in my boxer briefs because I forgot my clothes in my room.”

Carmen and Kosei looked scandalized as Candy covered her mouth.

Ben blushed as if it were true as he continued. “So, being so comfortable with Sammy, I was drying my hair as I walked nearly naked past her and Kenji unfortunately got an eyeful of my pale chicken legs. The scream I let out.”

Kenji chuckled just imagining the scene.

“And then I asked him for his number.” Kenji said with a shrug.

Candy laughed. “That sounds very like you, Kenji.”

“Texting Ben and calling him leveled me down. Made me want to come back just to…” He paused and shook his head, interlacing his fingers with Ben.

“He makes me happy.”

“So you two are still new to a lot of things.” Candy said. “Despite talking for three months.”

“Yeah.” Ben said and smiled at Kenji, almost genuinely. “He’s way taller than I expected.”

“But you’re just as cute.” Kenji said, making Ben blush deeply.

“Aw~!” Carmen cooed and Kosei scoffed at his daughter.

“Now, now.” He said, then turned to the boys. “Ben, I never asked. Do you prefer a separate room?”

“Excuse me?”

“Dad!”

“We understand how couples are and respect how you express your love.” Candy said. “As long as you’re safe. However, if you’ve only started being together…”

“Stop, stop this now.” Kenji said.

“I’ll be okay with Kenji.” Ben said with a nod. “He takes really great care of me and respects my wishes.”

Kosei nodded in approval of his son. “I am very happy to hear so.”

“Ben, I have to ask because it’s been bothering me…what’s that scar on your upper arm?” Candy asked.

Ben looked at the jagged scar on his left bicep. He covered it.

“It’s…from an old relationship.”

Carmen gasped and Kosei placed his glass down, eyes hard as he looked at Ben. Kenji squeezed his hand.

“What?”

“It was way before I met Kenji.” Ben said. “And I never brought it up because…”

“No, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Candy whispered.

���It’s fine. He’s…” He took a deep breath. “He’s gone and I’m far, far away from him.”

Kenji pulled Ben’s hand to rest on his chest. “Ben…don’t be scared to tell me things. I won’t judge you, ever.”

Ben smiled and kissed Kenji’s cheek.

“Thank you. All of you.”

 Ben sat on the king sized Ben in Kenji’s room.

It was decorated in shades of red and gray, as opposed to the white and blue outside. He was dressed in an old t-shirt and pajama pants, Kenji showering.

The room was very…sparse.

It had rich dark wood furniture, plush latte colored carpet and pale pastel yellow walls that could be white in different light. Rich strawberry red bedspread and rugs and grey curtains and armchairs next to a white brick fireplace with a glass guard. There was a desk, a small table next to the large window with the armchairs next to the fireplace and with another tall, small surfaced table. The bed was in the middle of the back wall, two nightstands holding touch lamps and piled with soft velvety red and grey pillows overstuffed, but comfortable enough to leave on when going to sleep.

Bumpy snored from her plush pet bed near the heating vent, exhausted from the busy day she had.

Ben felt himself already getting sleepy as he read one of the books Yaz had bought him as an early Christmas gift. He looked at his phone

He text Sammy.

B: I told them about J

S: WHAT?!?!?! Ben, you didn’t have to!

B: It felt right. I trust Kenji.

S: Okay. How do you feel?

B: A little better tbh Like Like I have some more eyes looking over my shoulders to watch my back Idk

S: Kenji would kick his ass into next year! I WOULD TOO!

B: Thanks, Sammy. We’re heading off to the hotel tomorrow. I’ll send you some pictures.

S: Be safe! Yaz said to say she misses you.

B: I miss you too. Love you both.

S: <3

 Kenji came in dressed in flannel pajamas and looked at Ben, who was still curled up on the right side with his book.

“Um…”

“It’s okay. You’re probably cold.” Ben said, pretending to read his book as Kenji draped the damp towel over the back of his desk chair.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

Ben ducked his head a bit, not wanting to make a awkward situation more so.

Kenji reached into his bag and pulled out the soft knitted blue sweater he had worn to dinner. He held it out to Ben.

Ben blinked and suddenly, Kenji blushed.

“Sorry! I’ll get you a clean one or—”

“I’ll take it.” Ben said, taking it from his hands and pulling it over his shirt.

He blushed as he smelled Kenji’s cologne on the collar and wrists. Kenji got in bed next to him.

“What are you reading?” He asked Ben.

“A sequel series of this young adult…um…It’s a little complicated, but it focuses on my favorite characters from the first series.”

“Read a bit to me?”

“You wouldn’t understand it.” Ben said. “But if you want me too, I can explain plot details and stuff...”

“Okay.” Ben said and found where he had paused. “Magnus saw hundreds of masked people in elaborate costumes dancing in unison, and around them was music that could be seen as well as heard. As if ripped from a black-and-white sheet of paper and turned into bright, living shapes, the notes floated in the air, drifting along currents of musical lines and wrapping around the glittering masks and elaborate hair of the dancers. Along the ceiling, the constellations were moving; no, they were the orchestra…”

He noticed Kenji had relaxed and was dozing off, soft snores floating from him. Ben placed his bookmark inside the page and placed it on the nightstand. He touched the lamp, and the room went dark.

Kenji wiggled closer and hugged him loosely around the waist.

He smiled and pretended this was his life, with a loving boyfriend and his family and safe and loved—

“Sorry…Brooklynn…” Kenji groaned and Ben froze. He pulled away and rolled over, leaving Ben cold and feeling empty.