#given i left for MONTHS and just came back like... ya never know ya know?

[progeniterror]

the way the vast majority of my following list is dead and yet i refuse to unfollow most of them

[gallavichsreddie1128]

You Have A Wife? (John Walker)

Description: John is keeping his family a secret from the team until she wants to meet them.

Word Count: 1,392

John had managed to keep his wife a secret from the team (besides Bucky) for a good month after they were listed as the New Avengers. Y/N wanted to meet the team and tell him that she was pregnant with their second child. John was very hesitant about it, given how the others were and he never wanted to bring her in harm's way.

Bucky was respectful and kept John’s personal life a secret from the others too. Though the question remaining was why John didn’t live at the tower like the rest of them. Yelena and Ava came up with the theory that he was stuck up and thought he was better than them but that just wasn’t the case. “Baby please!” She pouted on facetime as she brought it up again. John sighed, “I don’t know.” “Why not?” He bit his lip and looked away from the camera, “These are my co-workers, co-workers that aren’t the best people and I like that you’re safe and away from all the bullshit.” He says and looks back at the camera.

“John, You can’t hide me forever. I wanna go to events with you and be there in person to support you and I don’t know maybe we can move into the tower-” “No. We definitely aren’t moving into the tower.” He cuts her off. She rolled her eyes. He could be very difficult sometimes. “They never question you on why you don’t live there?” She asked. “All the time. It’s none of their business.” “John, they are like a family to you and-”  “No, you and Y/S/N are my family.” Her face dropped. “Look, I have to go, see ya tonight. Love you” She hung up, she was pissed at him and he could tell. “Fuck.” He sighed and set his phone aside. 

Bucky was training in the gym when John decided to go talk to him. He was the only one who knew about Y/N and his son, “Hey Buck, you got a second?” John asked as he entered the gym. Bucky stopped what he was doing and turned to John, “What do you need?” John sighed, “It’s Y/N, she wants to come meet the team.” “So introduce her to them.” He said and John shook his head, “I don’t know how I feel about bringing her into all of this.” He said as he sat down. “I’m sure everyone will like her and she won’t be in harm's way. It’ll explain why you don’t live here.” Bucky pointed out. “She also wants to move into the tower.” Bucky thought that wasn’t a terrible idea but he saw the look on John’s face. The last thing John needed was to have Y/N in any danger. “Hey man, I seriously think she’ll be okay and if you move in here, she’ll have all the protection she needs.” Bucky pointed out and that made John’s face soften, maybe he was right.

Y/N had just put Y/S/N down for bed when John got home, she was still mad at him but knew that he had his reasons. “How was your day?” She asked as she walked into the living room. John smiled at the sight of her, she was wearing PJ pants and a black t-shirt that was too big for her. “Better now that I’m here with you.” He walked up to her and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Mmm you are cheesy.” She stated and kissed him back. “Is Y/S/N sleeping?” John asked and she nodded. John woke him up and Y/N put him to sleep,the boy was going on 2 now. “I wanna talk to you about something.” He said as she stepped away from him. “I-I wanna bring you to the tower tomorrow, you and Y/S/N.” Her eyes lit up at his words, a big smile forming on her face. “Really?” She asked and he nodded. She jumped in his arms and kissed him, “Thank you, Thank you.” She said against his lips causing him to laugh.

Y/N was nervous and excited to meet her husband’s team. She was thinking about it all morning after he left. What if they didn’t like her? She was aware that they weren’t a fan of him so what if her being with him makes them hate her? She shook her head trying to rid of those thoughts as she got ready. “Are you ready to meet daddy’s friends?” Y/N asked their son as she buckled him up. “Yay.” Y/N laughed as her son cheered.

The tower was only 10 minutes from their house. She got out and sent a text to John saying that they were there. John came out a few minutes later and Y/S/N ran up to him, “Hi buddy!” He said and picked him up. He was in training clothes and looked so good. Y/N walked up to him and pecked his cheek, “You look good.” She whispered and he blushed. 

John, himself, was nearly shitting his pants as he walked them to the others. This was his world in his arms and next to him, this was a big moment. The others were lounging around when they walked in, Yelena looked up and her face was full of confusion. “Who’s this?” Bucky waved at Y/N. “This is my son and my wife.” Everyone’s jaw dropped besides Bucky. “What?” “You have a wife?” “Someone would marry you?” Was heard through the room. Y/S/N hid his face in John’s neck, “Hi everyone, I’m Y/N.” Ava stood up and went to greet her, “I’m Ava.” Everyone introduced themselves besides Bucky.

“Good to see you.” Bucky smiled. “You knew?” Yelena asked and Bucky nodded. “Who’s this?” Ava asked and Y/S/N pulled away from his dad’s neck. “Y/S/N.” He said quietly and Ava smiled. “Aren’t you just the cutest? You get your looks from your mom?” Y/N smiled and laughed at that. “John has a child!” Alexei announced. “Children.” Y/N said and placed a hand on her stomach. John looked over at her, “What?” She smiled at him, “I’m pregnant.” She said and everyone cheered. “Congratulations!” Bucky said. “We’re having another baby?” John asked in a soft voice, tears in his eyes. “Yes.” She said and took Y/S/N, “Someone’s gonna be a big brother.” Y/S/N giggled.

“So this is why you aren’t living here.” Yelena said and he nodded. “Well I did try to get him to let us move here.” John shook his head. “You should and we take care of baby and have fun.” Alexei said. “Yeah and us girls can maybe get to have girls nights.” Ava suggested. “And Gossip. I need to know how this happened.” Yelena motioned between John and Y/N. “Of course. See John this would be great.” Y/S/N was trying to get out of John’s arms. John set him down and he went over to Bucky, “Hey little man.” Bucky said and Y/S/N reached for his metal arm.

“Cool.” He said and Bucky laughed, “Isn’t it? I take down bad guys with it.” “I wanna be a hero, like my daddy.” John’s face dropped at that, he was no hero. Y/N pulled him close to her, “Hey.” He looked over at her, “He loves you and he’s always gonna idolize you.” She whispered. “How about John makes us dinner?” Y/N asked the group. “Hey!” She laughed at his response.

“You know I do kind of miss the helmet.” Y/N said to him as they all ate dinner. “You liked the helmet?” Yelena asked and Y/N shook her head. “Oh when he first put it on he looked like the old man from UP but with a beard I gotta say I do like it.” She said and Alexei laughed the loudest. “That’s a good one. I haven’t heard that one before.” “Maybe I can bring it back.” John said, “No!” Everyone responded.

Y/N laughed and looked over at Y/S/N, Bob was talking to him. “I think you bring the good out in him.” Ava said and Y/N smiled. “Yeah?” “Yeah we need you around like all the time.” John rolled his eyes and Y/N hugged his arm. “Like maybe move into the tower.” Yelena said and Y/N looked over at her husband waiting for an answer. “Maybe. I have to think about it.” He told her. It wasn’t a No, she thought as she finished eating.

[ryngzmn]

clingy | D.W

PAIRING: dean winchester x werewolf!reader

SUMMARY: ever since you came along, dean hasn’t had a moment of privacy. not that he minds of course.

WORD COUNT: 558.

WARNINGS: not proofread, dean calls reader furball but there are allusions to other nicknames, very short :((

A/N: this is based off a bot I’ve made before, also in my eyes reader has like little wolf ears and a tail like in fanart you might see but I didn’t describe it in case some people didn’t want that :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It had been a few months — seven, more specifically — since you had started to hunt with the Winchester brothers.

And Dean was a little wary of you, to be honest. But you were a supernatural creature, a werewolf to be exact! It wasn’t a surprise he didn’t trust you.

But eventually he warmed up to you, mainly because he started realizing how useful you were on hunts with that enhanced sense of smell and hearing you had.

You seemed to warm up to Dean quickly, very quickly.

If he could describe you in one word: clingy. That would be the word he would use.

To put it nicely, you never left him alone. If he was doing his own thing in the bathroom, you’d be waiting outside. You were constantly by his side and practically breathing down his neck.

Like right now. Dean was making some breakfast while you were just watching him, not contributing in any way whatsoever. Although, he could probably say you were there for emotional support.

After a bit, Dean briefly glanced at you, seeing that you were only a few inches away from his face.

“Can you give me some room to work here, furball?” The nickname he gave you rolled off his tongue effortlessly, along with the countless other ones he had given you before.

You listened eagerly and quickly took a few steps back, your gaze darting from Dean back over to the food.

Dean noticed this and realized you must’ve been really hungry for you to be eyeing it like that. “You hungry?”

You nodded with a small ‘mhm’ and Dean chuckled.

“Well jus’ give me a few minutes and the food’ll be ready for ya.” He smirked.

“Okay!” You replied cheerfully, turning your head away from the food to look around the bunker’s kitchen. Something Dean noticed you often did when you had nothing else to do.

He let out a small huff, pausing whatever he was doing and turning to you. “Why don’t you go set the table? Food’s almost done. Also, why not wake up Sam while you’re at it?”

Dean watched as you turned and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the table and leaving some space in the middle so Dean could place the pancakes and eggs there.

He turned back to the stove and subconsciously listened to your footsteps rushing down the hallway to Sam’s room.

And by the time he was done and stacking all the pancakes onto one plate, you were already back in the kitchen with Sam in tow.

Walking over to the table, you sat down next to the spot that Dean always sat in. On purpose, of course.

Dean brought the pancakes over to the table and set them down in the middle of the table, sitting down moments later.

While everyone ate, Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye inching closer to him. He said nothing about, knowing that you just wanted it be closer to him.

It might’ve been weird that you were only this clingy with him, you were never this clingy with Sam or Castiel. He’d never bring it up though, mainly because he didn’t mind.

In fact, he enjoyed the fact that someone always wanted to be so close to him, no matter how annoying it got.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

tags! : @ryvkkr

feedback would be appreciated but not necessary!

[lunajay33]

Future🍂

Summary: Daryl’s the only one that’s ever made you feel loved so when you get separated during the apocalypse you feel lost without him

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Daryl was there for me growing up and I was there for him, when his dad acted out on him I was there to hold him through the night, when a guy would break my heart he’d do everything he could to cheer me up, we were inseparable, so we saved money and bought a little house in the woods together, it was peaceful everything was just settling for us, eventually he asked me to be his girl and it was the happiest day of my life

Then came the apocalypse, thankfully I was with him when everything happened and he took me to the quarry away from the town staying far away from big crowds, we shared a tent and I’d grip him tight at night scared that if I closed my eyes he’d be gone in the morning or something would happen and he’d turn into a walker

Eventually we made it to the farm, life seems like it can be good here, there’s water, land to grow crops, chickens and livestock, even after everything that’s happened including Daryl’s accident I’ve felt a sense of calm for once

“Hey sunshine ya doin okay?” Daryl asked as he sat next to me around the low burning fire as he handed me a plate of bacon and eggs

“Oh yeah I’m fine just thinking about how we use to live, remember all the plans I had for our home, all the recipes I wanted to make, all the trips I wanted to experience with you, a family…….” I said the last part under my breath but the man had the ears of a bat

“Ya wanted a family…..with me?” He asked a bit of shock laced in his voice

“Of course D why would I, have a little girl running around with crazy dark hair like yours, seeing you play with her, maybe getting a dog you like, I just had so much more for us, but I’m still grateful that we were able to escaped together”

“Maybe one day we can still have that, ya never know sunshine, I wish I coulda given ya more”

“You give me plenty Daryl”

Everything was happening so quickly one minute the barns on fire the next there are walkers swarming the farm, I tried to get to Daryl but I got cornered by walkers having to run into the woods, my heart was beating so fast that was all I could hear, running for what seemed like hours till the sun started to rise, eventually I couldn’t hear anymore groans and moans of walkers, I slumped against a tree exhausted when I realized I’m in the middle of nowhere with no idea how to get back or where to even start looking for Daryl

That heavy feeling gripped my heart voiding me of any emotion but despair, I walked and walked and walked down the long winding road heading South, making stops for any supplies left at random houses or stores I came by, 2 months into be on the road I became sick, not being able to keep anything down, exhausted more from the long days of walking, coming to realize I was pregnant, it gave me a little bit of hope knowing that if I truly never found Daryl again atleast I’d have a part of him still

The months dragged on until my belly was plump with a little Dixon, luckily I found a house unscathed from seekers, the food stocked high which made sure I was malnourished during this pregnancy, I loaded up a car with the groceries and drove, everything worked for a few months, I am guessing I’m about 7 months now and the food was running low and the gas was running out, slowly my car came to a halt, I got out feeling the Georgia heat when I heard running water, I ventured into the trees with my canteen finding a a small man made waterfall, I filled the canteen when I heard shots, looking forward over a hill I see a prison, people walking around, I was secure no walker inside, distracted I didn’t notice where I was stepping and stepped right onto a nail on the train tracks making my fall and bust my eyebrow open, my knees ached and my hands were bloody, I pulled my self up screaming when I ripped my foot off the nail, the scream alerted near by walkers until they swarmed around me, I was scared and weak, this couldn’t be how I go I still haven’t found Daryl and I had to protect this baby

I gathered as much strength as possible running towards the prison gates, praying they would take me in and help just for today, I made it to the gates exhausted with a trail of walkers behind me when a woman with dreads appeared at the gates

“Please let me in I need help….please I’m begging” I cried holding my belly seeing her eyes soften as she noticed my baby bump, she yanked open the gates right in time to let me in and shut it on the walkers

“Come on hun let’s get you cleaned up” she smiled leading me up to the prison, we almost made it inside when I heard the familiar grumble of the bike I use to ride on all the time, late at night when everyone in town was asleep Daryl would take me out roaming around

I turned my heart leaping every second that passed, until I knew for sure it was him, and it was I could recognize that hair anywhere, he parked the bike and looked around till his eyes landed on me, and he did something I’ve never seen him do before, he dropped to his knees crying

I wobbled over to him still in pain but I didn’t care, I dropped gently to my knees infront of him holding his face in my hands

“I can’t believe I found you Daryl, it’s really you” I weeped as took me shoulders and held me tight against his chest

“I looked for ya everywhere I swear I never gave up, that day when ya weren’t with anyone after the farm it felt like my life was over, but I knew ya were still out there, god I love ya”

“I love you too Daryl, so much”

“Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment but your girl need some medical attention” that’s when Daryl noticed my busted eyebrow and all the blood over me

He picked me up in his arms bringing me inside to Hershel

“The hell happened to ya angel?” He asked as Hershel attended to my wounds

“I stepped on a nail and fell in just glad I didn’t land on the baby”

“Baby?” Daryl face drained of color standing there frozen

“You didn’t notice? I’m pregnant D” I said flattening down my shirt to make my belly more prominent

“I guess I was just to stunned”

“You seem a lot more healthier than the Lori, how did you manage?” Hershel asked as Daryl came to sit by me squeezing my hand, something he did when he was anxious

“I found a fully stocked house, only just ran out of food today”

“I’d say you’re pretty lucky lil lady, now I’ll give you two some space”

Daryl looked at me with such love mixed with worry

“I can’t believe yer pregnant and it’s mine?” He asked gently rubbing the bump feeling the baby kick

“Of course it’s yours D, you know I’ve only ever been with you, I’ll only ever want you”

“I’ll keep ya both safe, I’ll give ya that dream life ya wanted fer us, I promise”

“I just need you Daryl, I just want you”

[theautisticwriter]

Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

———————————————————

By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

<3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

———————————————————

Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

———————————————————

Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

———————————————————

[youthereader]

Echoes in the Dark part 6.

PAIRING: joel miller (the last of us) x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 4.5k words. Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient.

RATING: E (no smut in this part). age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel is in his 60s). heavy angst, grief and loss of a child, graphic violence.

A/N: A fix-it fic. Reader is Joel’s carer as he recovers from Abby’s attempt on his life.

PART 5.

You walk into Joel’s kitchen, arming yourself with a smirk. He’s already there, still wearing the same sweatpants as yesterday but wearing a clean shirt. 

You washed that flannel yesterday, so he would have noticed you folded everything and put it away while he slept. He’s well enough to do more things alone, but he still can’t bend his knee at all, hence the sweatpants.

“You gonna survive without me today?” you tease, hands going to your backpack straps. 

“Barely,” he murmurs. 

You didn’t speak about him seeing you cry the other day, and Ellie became the main topic of conversation. Joel’s incessant chatter about taking her on patrol made you all the more relieved that he wasn’t the one doing it. Given that Ellie was already wanting to get out, Joel would likely only get on her nerves, trying to micromanage everything. He means well, and you know that’s just him, that’s what a parent does. 

“She up yet, you think?” you ask, and he shrugs. 

“Might be waiting around for her at the gate,” he warns. 

You pause, glancing over at the coffee mug he left for you. Your chest squeezes, knowing he got up especially early to catch you before you left, and went to the trouble of making coffee. It would have taken longer. 

“Only spilled a little before you came,” he murmurs, and you smirk again. “I cleaned it up okay, though. Wasn’t meant to tell ya…”

“She’s gonna be fine,” you say, and he nods, jaw tensing. “I promise.”

“She better,” he says. “You both better.”

You consider teasing him, calling him a grumpy old man, but instead you move toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You squeeze, your eyes meeting. He unexpectedly takes hold of your wrist and squeezes just as hard back, taking a deep breath. 

“Remember, she can get distracted sometimes. Doesn’t always follow the rules.”

“She’s nineteen,” you retort, rolling your eyes. 

“Hey,” he says, a little firmer, and he grabs your shirt with his free hand, tugging you hard. 

This forces you to invade his space, knocking his wheelchair. You’re both silent as his hands stay on you, tight grips. There’s fire in your blood, your face flushing under his gaze. You swallow, clearing your throat to compose yourself. 

“We’ll be back by sundown.”

You lean down so your faces are leveled. He softens, hand slipping up to cup your face. You can feel his callouses against your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. 

“You like telling me what to do, don’t you, Joel?” you whisper. 

It’s impulsive, certainly reckless, and he stares at your mouth, then up again into your eyes.

“I think you like me telling you what to do, sweetheart,” he whispers back. 

He kisses you, a short peck on the lips. It feels like the most natural gesture in the world, almost innocent, if it weren’t for the way your eyes consume one another. You pull away. 

“I have to go,” you say, and he nods. 

You take a few sips of coffee and set the mug back down again. 

“Stay safe,” he says.

“You, too,” you reply, turning your heel.

-

Ellie is only ten minutes late. She mentions this a few times as you set off.

It’s been a few months since you last rode, but you quickly fall back into the old habit. Your horse today, a Palomino named Goldie, is a distant cousin of the new foal Clover.  Ellie asks you a lot of questions, mostly about life before the outbreak.

“I never even saw a real horse until after,” you explain. 

“So you had a car?”

“How old do you think I am?” you ask, chuckling. 

“I mean, did your parents have a car when you were little?” Ellie says, rolling her eyes extravagantly. 

“Yeah, but I don’t remember it much,” you say. “Except for one time I threw up, and we had to pull over. We hung my Beanie Baby out by its ears when my mom washed it. We didn’t own a dryer.”

“What the fuck is a Beanie Baby?” Ellie asks.

“You know bean bags?” you ask, and Ellie nods. “It’s like that, but it’s a teddy bear. Little. Like a stuffed toy but it’s got beans, too.”

“Wild,” Ellie murmurs. 

“Not really,” you say. “But I had a lot of them. You were supposed to collect them. A lot of houses around here might still have them.”

The sun is up but the air is frigid, your breaths in front of your faces. Ellie adjusts her beanie and grunts.

“Where are we going, again?”

“Wilson,” you reply. “Or around it. It’s pretty standard.”

This is not the first time you’ve told her. She didn’t have much interest in consulting the map you gave her when you left half an hour ago. The trail is only eight or so miles, but you’ll spend more than half the day away from Jackson. 

A part of you wants to savour your time away from Joel, since you’re becoming closer and closer to him, but Ellie is a constant reminder. Regardless, you hope that today is a reset, and you can refocus on what matters to you when you get back. Joel is not going to need you forever, and you have to find other ways to contribute. If you’re honest, you don’t know if you’re suited to nursing if this is how quickly you attach to patients. 

Except it feels like no-one else is like Joel.

“I brought trail mix,” Ellie says. 

She passes you some dried fruit and you munch, nodding at her. 

“I brought you a cookie.”

“Seriously?” Ellie half-shouts, and you send her a look. “Sorry. Seriously? You’re so cool. I knew you were cool.”

“It’s nothing,” you mutter, swallowing.

A lot of time is spent silently eating while you ride. Goldie abruptly halts nearly forty-five minutes in, taking a giant piss on the trail and Ellie begins to laugh. 

“Jesus, she’s gonna make me piss my pants, too!”

You look around, assessing for any signs of life. It’s quiet, except for the occasional bird call that echoes around. The trees sway and creak. Ellie jumps down from Shimmer and walks off towards a clump of bushes. 

“Don’t take too long,” you call. 

You tell yourself you’ll give her two minutes before interrupting her. You don’t care if she’s embarrassed, something feels off about how quiet it is. When Ellie comes back, she stares at you as she approaches Shimmer. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply slowly, but you’re unsure. “I don’t think there’s any infected around.”

“There never is,” Ellie laments. “Can barely get practice most of the time.”

She throws her leg over and huffs. 

“Is that what you want to do? Train?” you ask, and Ellie nods. “What does Joel think about that?”

“What do you think? He still acts like I’m a kid,” Ellie mumbles. 

You set off again, and you can’t help smiling.

“You are, though.”

“I’m not!”

“Ellie,” you chide. “Trust me, you are a kid. And I know you spend your whole childhood wanting to be taken seriously, but you’re really young. You should hold onto that-”

“You sound like him,” she says, and your stomach flips.

You fall silent, nodding. The rest of the journey, you spend little time talking at all. Ellie moves ahead of you, calling out when you reach a sign.

“Wilson!” 

You’re on the edge of the small town, technically not Wilson itself but a smaller stop. There are shells of buildings, of barns and houses with overgrowth everywhere. That’s when the memory hits you squarely in the chest. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” you say aloud, and Ellie turns her head, scrunching her nose.

“What?”

She didn’t hear you. You shake your head, adrenaline spiking. You grip Goldie’s reins and give her a short tap with your boot, urging her forward. Parallel to Ellie, you take out your pistol. 

Ellie copies, unsettled.

“What’s going on? Have you been here before?”

“Kind of,” you say. “I mean, yeah.”

“The fuck does that mean, kind of?” Ellie says. “Who lives here?”

“No-one, at least no-one when I was here last,” you murmur. 

There weren’t any infected here, you recall. That may have changed, by how you hear a distant rasping sound, followed by another voice, a screech. You spy bullet holes in the Wilson sign, and more on the side of the barn closest to you. 

You leave the horses under a tree, keeping your voices low. Ellie looks lit from within, and you know now that this is what she needed when Maria mentioned her climbing the walls. She needs to hunt, which makes perfect sense to you. 

“How do you know no-one lives here?” Ellie whispers.

You look her dead in the eyes, crouching behind a wrecked car covered in brown grass. She copies you.

“Did you kill them?” she whispers, and you nod just once. 

The screeching rips through you again, and you hold up a hand to Ellie, then point toward the sound. You’ll go together. 

You sprint, heading straight to the source of the sounds. The infected inside the torn down barn was once a man your age, his skin green and covered in lesions. Half his jaw is gone, replaced with overlapping fungus. He barrels toward you, snarling. You shoot him twice, first the throat and then the forehead. Another streaks out of the barn, hurtling towards Ellie. 

A woman appears, her left arm missing, lumbering towards you as Ellie picks off her target. You wonder how much of her was torn off by others. You should have done a proper search before this, but you blame your heightened emotions, the memories… 

You draw your knife, sidestepping the woman. Your next step, you pivot, stabbing it in the eye. It snarls and garbles at you. Ellie finishes it off, the woman dropping to the ground. 

“Let's not waste any more bullets,” you say, and Ellie nods. “It'll be better not to draw any more out, anyway, if there are more.” 

Ellie falls into step beside you. “Were there many infected last time you were here?” 

“No,” you say. “But that was at night, it's harder to know.” 

Ellie looks perplexed but you refuse to fill in the blanks. You need to get out of here as fast as possible; just patrol and then leave with Ellie safe beside you. Remembering protocol, you take the walkie-talkie from your pack and switch it on. 

“Wilson to Jackson, over.” 

A beat later, a feminine voice talks back: 

“Wilson, it's good to hear from you finally. Over.” 

It had only been an hour. That's a tad passive aggressive on Jackson’s part. 

“Ran into some infected. We’re checking the area and then we'll head back, over.”

You watch as Ellie walks back to the horses, giving Shimmer a little stroke on the nose. You gesture to her to come back, annoyance rising in you. 

“Remember to check in again in thirty minutes. Over.” 

You shut off the walkie-talkie without saying goodbye. You'll follow the rules alright, but you can't get over how you managed to wind up here without thinking. It makes you want to forget the whole thing and drag Ellie back, fuck the patrol. Last time you were here, it was after dark, that wasn't a lie. It was harder to recognize in broad daylight. It feels like a long time ago, but it was a year maximum, now that you let yourself remember it all. 

Ellie makes her way back, walking both horses. 

“Why are you in a hurry? I'm not,” she says. “Don't you want to explore?” 

She's trying to get you to spill but you stay silent, pressing your lips together. She hands you Goldie's reigns and walks on. 

“Especially if you were too busy last time killing everyone to find Beanie Babies.” 

You suck in a breath. “Don't joke about that, Ellie.”

She's surprised by your sudden harshness, the way your hackles rise instantly. You regret it, blinking at her when you come to your senses, heart hammering. You open your mouth to apologize but Ellie turns away from you. 

This is going to be a long trip back, you figure with a sigh. And it'll be a miracle if Ellie doesn't call you an asshole by the end of it. 

You walk the outskirts of the town, checking in as planned. With Ellie's coolness, you don't have to tell her to stay quiet while you inspect the surroundings. Each abandoned house bears the same ghost story within. 

You decide to split up and then circle back, volunteering to duck inside the last house alone. Ellie says nothing, nods and settles the horses by the final house. You sneak in, gun held tight in your hands as you quickly investigate each room. Whoever lived there is long gone, with many hands having gone through everything already. Mud tracks through the house, a thick layer of dust over nearly every surface. You pause by the mantelpiece in the living room, finding a framed wedding photo, then a second frame holding a family portrait. They seem happy, smiling up at you. Mother, father, son. You wonder where they went, how long they survived. The kid would be your age now, or thereabouts. 

You find his features in his parents - his eyes are from his mother and his smile is from his father. You walk upstairs and check the main bedroom first, floorboards creaking despite your careful steps. Pushing open the door, the stink slams into you and you cough. Something died in here some time ago. You cover your mouth with the collar of your shirt and press on, to the kid’s room. 

The bed is made, but the cupboards are open, clothes spilling out of drawers that look rummaged through. You linger at the toy chest, spotting an old rocket made of tin, something that looks passed down over the generations. 

It was a mistake, you realize too late, coming into this house. You hear a weak, wheezing breath behind you as you step back, and then a sharp jerk from below as something grabs your ankle.

The infected is stronger than you expect, dragging you down. You let out a scream of shock, coming face to face with a woman with no eyes. She could smell you, heard you coming in… and she waited for you. How the fuck did she know to do that?

You lose balance and topple over, and you kick at her, boots finding bones. She begins to crawl up your body, the stench invading you, clouding your vision as you wrestle the gun away from her. Any second now, you’re going to deafen yourself -

“Fucker!” you hear Ellie yell, and her knife collides with the infected, jamming into her temple.

She heard you scream and came running. You feel a burst of pride, somewhere among the panic. You scramble away, and Ellie yells again. 

“Shit!” 

In retrieving her knife, she got too close to the woman, her gnashing teeth. You pull the trigger, the infected going limp. The sound of the gunshot rings in your ears, while you stare in horror at Ellie’s wrist. 

There's a bite mark.

Listen... is it kind of contrived? Yes. Am I mad about it? I'm trying not to be. I wrote this like I was running out of time, and I didn't intend for this part to be anywhere near this length... Anyway, I'm already writing more, hoping to update very shortly. There will be Big Reveals and Major Angst (capitals necessary) in the next part. Ciao!

tag list: @brianna-merlim @littledebbieinabigworld

PART 7.

[satorusugurugurl]

Worth It

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: babysitting

Pairing: Choso Kamo x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, handjob, fingering, smut, protected sex, fluffy fluff

Word Count: 4,988 (oops)

A/N: hi y’all sorry for the delay heroes the last prompt for my summer fest celebration!! I am finally getting back on track, my goodness have I been super busy! Enjoy!

Choso was so damn stressed. He ran his hand down his face with a sigh as Yuuji screamed at the top of his lungs, singing along to the theme song of his favorite show that was playing in the background. Choso was left feeling more than a little stressed between his dayshift at the hospital and trying to find a new babysitter while taking care of the apartment. On top of everything else, he was trying to prepare himself to see you for the first time in four years.

He had run into your Mom at the grocery store last week. After talking for a bit and hearing about all the stuff piled up on his plate, she offered for you to babysit during the summer while his grandpa was on a month-long cruise. You had been friends growing up, having lived next door to each other; it only made sense. But the age difference between you caused you both to grow apart. It was only natural since there was a four-year difference. Choso was off to medical school for his nursing degree by the time you started high school.

But now that he was twenty-four and you were twenty going to college yourself, things wouldn't be so different. God, when had he seen you last? Would he ever recognize you?

While Choso found himself lost in thought, pacing the kitchen. You were excitedly bounding up the stairs to his apartment door, knocking on it. God, you were so excited! Your mom’s consistent meddling with your dating life had finally paid off for once! She had successfully given you a chance to rekindle a relationship with your longtime crush. You’d always had a down bad for the gothy boy next door. But since you were four years younger, it never went past friendship.

Things are different now, though! You both were older now, more mature, and you were jail-bait any longer. You wouldn’t throw away the golden opportunity you had been given.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost jumped out of your skin when the door to the apartment opened. Your childhood crush towers over you, black hair tied up in two buns, and he was in his tight maroon scrubs that looked delicious on him, showing off his muscles. While you were looking over him like a tasty meal, he swallowed hard, eyeing your blue jean shorts and a black crop top, leaving for Choso’s imagination. Both of you practically eye fucking each other when a flash of pink hair came bolting out of the door.

“Sissy!!” Yuuji yelled, throwing his arms around your legs and hugging you tight.

You giggled, allowing him to knock you back a step before you reached down, ruffling his hair. “Heya Yuuji!” Your eyes trailed from pink tufts of hair to Choso’s dark eyes. “Hiya Cho.”

“H-Hi, uhm, c-come in!” He stepped aside, allowing you to shuffle in with his little brother, still attached to your leg. “Sorry about the mess, I uhm—haven't had much time to clean.”

“No worries.” Your smile was soft, warm, and understanding.

Why did you have to smile at him like that?! It took every ounce of strength in him not to confess his undying love for you right there in the apartment's entryway. Instead of an impromptu confession, he cleared his throat, ushering you to the kitchen, where the sink was filled with dishes and toys littering the floor. Choso flushed, rubbing his neck with a huff.

“Uhm—yeah, the apartment is a mess, I'm sorry—I just—ya know—”

“Choso, you're good, so there's no need to worry. You've been balancing a lot.” you are so sweet, caring, and understanding. To not like you would be an atrocity.

“Right, right, so I’ll be home around 6 o’clock; you can order food. If you want, my credit card is on the counter. Yuuji already ate breakfast, so he’s good. Thanks again for doing this. My life has been hectic between my shifts at the hospital and trying to balance everything.”

You gently took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever I can do to help alleviate some of that stress, I’m happy to do so.”

Oh, Choso could think of multiple ways you could help alleviate his stress. One day, he would tell you how much he liked you and had a crush on you since you were small. The other things he wanted to do to you involved that tiny crop top you were wearing.

“Okay, uhm—if you need me, I'm just a call away!”

“Right!”

Choso grabs his saddlebag, lunch, and his badge for work. He headed towards the door with you and Yuuji following him behind. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to look at you. You look so cute standing there holding his little brother's hand. He wouldn’t mind getting to see you like that every day he left for work.

“I’m off.”

“Be safe, see you later!”

Choso kept thinking about how you were at home with his little brother all day. He thought about how pretty you looked this morning. You were too cute for your good; you had grown up from that little kid with pigtails to a beautiful woman—one that Choso would love to take out for dinner, kiss, and finally confess his love for.

It was like that that helped him get through his hectic day. What was supposed to be a regular shift turned into a busy, nightmarish day. Between all the patients coming in for heatstroke and hiking accidents, Choso had been busy since the moment he stepped into the hospital. But a busy day, and his day went by fast, and the faster it went by, the quicker to go home to you—Yuuji, he was going to Yuuji, not you.

When he finally got home, he was about an hour and a half late. He grumbled, dropping his shoes by the front entrance before shuffling inside the apartment. "Sorry, guys. The hospital was busier than I thought." Yuuji lifted his head from the paper he was coloring on, rushing towards his big brother's arm, stretched wide.

“Big brother! Sissy made dinner! Lots of meat, and it was super tasty, too!”

"Welcome home," You said, setting a plate for him. "I hope you had a great day other than it being busy.”

Choso’s face flushed a deep red. Oh god, you’d be so cute as a stay-at-home wife someday. Shit. He nodded to you, swallowing down those thoughts. "'Uhm—yeah, it was pretty good. Thank you for dinner." He grumbled, looking you up and down as he ruffled Yuuji’s hair.

You beamed at him before kneeling to Yuuji’s height. "Yuuji, why don’t we clean up the coloring stuff? When we’re done, let's get you ready for bed while your brother eats before we watch a movie.”

Yuuji nodded excitedly, babbling on about the firefighter movie you would watch, while he looked at you with surprise written on his face before he took in the apartment. Not only had you taken care of his little brother and made a home-cooked meal, but you also had time to clean the apartment! You truly were perfection in his eyes as he happily ate the dinner your loving hands prepared while he watched you and Yuuji sitting on the couch laughing.

Yeah, this was a sight he would never get tired of looking at. When he finished dinner, he ruffled you and Yuuji’s heads before heading to the bathroom to shower. You watched from the couch, a little too obviously, as he took his scrub top off while walking down the hall. Fuck he looked so hot; it had to be illegal in some country to look as good as he did! The things you would do to him—.

“He likes you too.” Yuuji’s little voice spoke between a yawn.

“Eh?!” The eight-year-old's blunt comment left your cheeks flished as you jolted your attention back to him. “W-What makes you think that?!”

Yuuji so sweetly tilted his head to the side, smiling softly. “I see the way you guys look at each other. Plus, I heard Choso telling Gramps how excited he was to see you again. He said he couldn’t wait to see how prettier you were.” He yawned louder, rubbing at his eyes as he snuggled into your side.

“He said that?”

“Yeppers.”

About six minutes later, you carried Yuuji back to his room, tucking him in as he softly snored onto his tiger plushie. When you left his room, you decided it might be best to be blunt about your feelings for Choso. It was painfully evident that both of you were pining after each other, but neither of you knew how to tell one another. So, it seems as though you would have to make the first move.

But how are you going to do that?

It would probably be best just straight up to tell him, but you weren’t sure if you could look him in the face and tell him how you felt. Sometimes, actions spoke better than words. You toss your options around as you clean the kitchen, scrubbing at the plates left in the sink. At about that same time, Choso walked out of his bedroom, heading into the kitchen in a towel, his eyes watching you clean like a hawk. "Hey, honey."

"Hello Cho-o-ooh!" You blushed, looking him over, taking in the stray droplets of water running down his chest. He looked so hot! The water emphasized the definitions of his toned abs, making your mouth dry, suddenly thirsty for him. Miraculously, though, you shook your head, turning away from him. "Ehem, are you feeling better?"

He nodded, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah, a lot better.” He pursed his lips together as he watched you drain the sink before wiping down the counters. “Thank you for watching Yuuji and cleaning up for me—it means a lot.”

“I figured since I was here, and Yuuji could entertain himself, I might as well help out a little more. I like making it a bit easier for you.”

“You are a breath of fresh air.” He hummed, propping his head up on his elbow. “Seriously, you just lifted ten tons off my shoulders. I’m so glad your mom told you I needed help.”

“I’m glad she told me too.” You whispered as you wrung on the rag before folding it over the edge.

“Seeing you here at the house, taking care of Yuuji, making dinner, made me wish you could be his permanent babysitter until you return to college in the fall.”

You stepped around the counter, leaning against it before your childhood friend. “Are you offering me the position? Because I can assure you I am CPR certified and have tons of experience babysitting from my high school years.” Choso grinned, exhaling contently through his nose.

"Consider it, then. You're extremely qualified, and you’re good with him."

A compliment was his subtle way of asking you to be the full-time babysitter. Your tummy was all fuzzy as you gave him your best sultry laugh. A laugh that had Choso’s cock twitching to life underneath his towel

"Oh yeah?" You bit your lip. "Are you sure it's not just because you want me around—?" Your eyes glittered as you smugly grinned.

He flushed, eyes going wide as he turned to look at you. "No! I—I mean, only if you want to! There is no pressure at all!" He corrected himself, looking away as he rubbed at his neck.

“Well, what if I were to say I wanted the position?”

“T-Then you could have it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts together. “AlrightI—.” before you could answer, you couldn’t help but notice your childhood friend's eyes glancing towards your cleavage. “Oh my god—are you staring at my tits?” There was no disgust or anger in your voice as she questioned him. Instead, nothing but the light and excitement laced your tone, which went completely unnoticed by Choso.

He choked on his saliva, coughing as he looked away, trying to hide his blush. "N-No!I'm not some pervert!'

"Whoa, Cho, it’s okay! I was teasing you." You said, changing your laid-back demeanor. "I know you're not a perv." You returned to drying the washed dishes with a wink and a smile.

God, the things you did to him drove him absolutely insane. Choso couldn't deny that he was looking at your pretty breasts. His mind conjured up different ideas on how he worshiped them. Those delusional thoughts had him moving a hand to cover his mouth as he glanced out at the sink, flushing deeply. The embarrassment left him feeling numb to the temperature, your laughter, and the sensation of touch. Because he was so entranced, he never noticed his towel starting to fall, but it never lost, all thanks to his hard cock holding it up.

“Cho, really you’re—” your eyes peered away from the cup in your hand. The sight of his seemingly levitating towel caused the plastic cup to fall out of your hands, clattering in the sink. "I-I fuck~ you have a huge cock.”

His eyes widened as he looked down. "O-Oh fucking hell!" He grabbed the towel, trying to hide his erection from you, but it was too late. You’d already seen a peek, and you wanted to see more.

You walk over without a care in the world, your tits jiggling. "Choso~ do you need help with that?" you eye him closely, teasingly brushing your fingers over his shaft through the towel.

“H-Honey—I uhm—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Choso sighed, shaking his head. “I-I uhm—no, I don't.” He groaned, shaking his head.

Without another word, you gently cupped his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. Choso’s eyes went wide for a split second, the shock causing him to release his grip on the towel as his brain tried to process what was happening. All of his dreams and fantasies for years were coming true. Your lips were on his, and he didn’t think he could longer hold himself back. So, instead of holding back those carnal desires, he let them take over instead. His fingers fisted into your hair as he kissed you back with the same enthusiasm as you had.

Lips moved in sync with each other, As he pressed you up against the counter, his hard cock throbbing against you. Your head was spinning in the best way as you dug your fingers into his damp hair, tugging at it gently as you let yourself lose all your control. You both weren’t kids anymore, and you weren’t jailbait, which meant you could finally go after what you wanted without any repercussions, and the way your childhood friend was kissing you, you knew he felt the same way.

Choso nipped at your bottom lip as he pulled back just an inch, allowing you to look at the black tattoo across the bridge of his nose. He was breathing; his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. His dark eyes roamed across your face, taking in your beauty.

“Oh my god, this is finally happening.” He snarled out before his lips were on yours again. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is finally fucking happening.”

“Is that why you came out of nothing but your towel?” you questioned as he grabbed your hair, forcing your neck to the sides slightly, allowing his lips to trail down your sensitive, sweet skin. “Ah~ fuck~ t-trying to seduce the babysitter?”

“Ha, more like I’m finally making my move.”

You blinked, trying to focus on what he said, but his lips running over your skin was distracting. “W-Wait~ nnngh fuck did you seriously do that on purpose?!” His hands found a sweet spot on your hips, and you could feel him grinning against your neck.

“No, not really, it’s just a happy accident.”

"Ooh." You mumbled, reaching down, stroking his insanely hard cock. "I suppose I better help you with this accident then." You whispered, standing on your tiptoes and nipping at his earlobe. “I told you I'm happy to help with the house, but I'm also happy to help in ‘other’ ways too.”

Choso groaned, his hands gripping the counter next to him. "F-Fuck, honey—" He moaned as your hand twisted expertly up and down his cock. Watching you do something he’s fantasized about while jerking off for years felt like a fever dream. "Oh fuck-!”

You smirked at the feeling of his cock throbbing in your hand, making you move your hand.

"Does that feel good?" Choso hissed head, falling forward as he nodded.

"Y-Yeah, fuck, it feels s-soo good. God fuck, you’resfucking pretty." He panted softly, trying to prevent himself from cumming too soon. It'd been a long time since he touched himself; he had been so busy.

“Good,” Your thumb ran teasingly over the slit dribbling more pre-cum. “You deserve to have some fun~ for caring for your family, working so hard.” Your hand increased in speed, desperate to help him cum.

Choso gasped, one of his hands gripping the countertop of the kitchen island, as the other hand grabbed the back of your neck, bringing your for head to rest on his as his orgasm crashed into him, his cum spurting out in thick ropes over you are hand. "FUCK!" He cried out, jerking his hips forward with whines and grunts.

“Oooh fuck,” you moaned; his cum was so thick and warm, you wished he had come in your mouth or—somewhere more intimate. "There you go~ feel a bit better now, Cho?" you asked, bringing your hand to your mouth, licking the thick, bittersweet release off your hand.

“God fuck.” Choso panted softly, looking down at you as he took his bottom lip between his teeth. "F-Fuck, yes, thank you—b-but I think we have a problem now.”

“And what might that be?”

“I can't control myself around you.”

Hearing that had your panties soaking wet. You found yourself biting your lip, rubbing your hands slowly down his bare chest. You could see the way his eyes rolled back into his head, how he shuddered and groaned as his cock slowly twitched back to life. Giving you more confidence to press against him with a soft, needy sigh. Choso groaned, eyes rolling back as you kissed slowly up his chest.

“So now might not be the best time to tell you I'm soaking wet right now?”

Choso groaned, nodding quickly. "Y-Yeah, maybe you should stop. If you don't... If you don't, I won't be able to stop myself."

You pouted and sighed. "If that's what you want, I'll stop." You headed to the sink to wash your hands. "You just look so stressed out and in need of a good fucking. Oh well, guess I'm lucky you're such a good guy, Choso~ wanting to contr—”

As soon as you said 'a good fucking,' all hell broke loose. Choso grabbed you by your wrist, dragging you down the hall. He didn't allow you to think before you were pulled into a bedroom, and the door slammed behind you. Choso pushed you back and pinned you down onto his bed. "Fucking tease." He growled.

The sudden change of scenery and the drop of his voice had your thighs squeezing together. All you managed to do was gasp loudly, looking up at him in awe. "I-I—holy fuck Cho."

He leaned down, biting and kissing your neck.

"Is this what you wanted? For me to lose control and fuck you?"

You nodded, whimpering as you squirmed.

"Yes, Cho~ I do~!" You shivered before moaning into your hands.

A hand slid up your body, massaging your breasts with a desperate groan. He was so in love with you. To have you underneath him like he'd fantasized about a hundred times before was unbelievable. Choso wanted, no, he needed you so insanely bad. Nothing would stop him from making you feel good and showing you how much he cared.

“Tell me what you want, honey."

“Y-You Cho! I want you! I've always wanted you!”

He nodded with a smirk, his hand gliding down to slip under your panties, his fingers brushing against your pussy. "Fuck, so wet~" This, indeed, was better than any of the daydreams he'd had about you when you had come home from college.

You were a mess, gasping pit loud, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. His fingers felt so much better than you had imagined them feeling. Being with him like this would make every solo session you had from this moment on lackluster. Thank god he was only a few streets away from you.

Because looking down at his hand working at you would not be enough to get you off in the future. You needed him, to feel him on you, touching you, feeling the heat of his body on you. "Fuck, your fingers feel so good-!" You mewled out, your hips bucking up against his hand.

Choso pulled his fingers up slightly to gently toying with your swollen clit. "Yeah? Is that true?" He chuckled softly, trying and failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

"Y-Yeah~ god, they're calloused, and it feels fucking good!” Your eyes bore into his with pure lust. "Will you please have sex with me? I bet you know how to fuck well, Cho."

Your childhood friend stiffens at your request. The shock faded into a need as he growled softly, sliding two fingers into your tight wet pussy to start stretching you out. "I have a bit of experience, yeah." His lips met yours in a searing kiss. “I’d be happy to show you how experienced I am.”

“Fuuck!” You inhaled sharply, looking up at him.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad~" You moaned out, your walls clenching around his fingers.

Choso growled in response, curling them up and slowly pumping them into your wet walls. "Such a good girl— fuck honey.” While you arched and squirmed underneath him, Chosk leaned over, nipping at your sensitive neck as he slid a third finger in, thrusting them into you with a low hum of approval.

You could hardly take it anymore. You threw your head back. His fingers brushed over a sensitive, spongy spot deep inside of you that you could hardly reach. But the instant his fingers pressed down on that mythical spot, you saw stars.

"I-I'm c-cumming!" You screamed out loud, causing Choso to finger you faster until your slick coated his fingers, making his cock throb hard.

Seeing you come undone like that left Choso smirking as he continued working his fingers in and out of you, helping her ride out your orgasm. His gentle touches and soothing kisses had you eager for more. Your fingers dug into his biceps, trying to drag him close to your face and attempt that Choso found himself helping you with and allowing his body to follow your needy touch until his lips were on yours.

"Fuck me, god, please fuck me." You whispered against his kiss-swollen lips.

At this point, your walls relaxed enough to allow Choso to slide his fingers from you, moving them up to his lips and cleaning them off with his mouth. “You want me?” he grabbed a condom from his bedside table. "You think you're ready?"

"Oh god, yes, please fuck. I'm so ready. I've been ready for so long. God, I need you, Cho; I need you so bad, please.” You pleaded out, looking down at his thick long cock that throbbed at the sound of your voice.

That begging left Choso a groaning mess as he nodded, sliding the condom over his length before pushing the head of his cock against your entrance. "F-Fuck, you're so tight, honey." Choso moaned softly before he slid his cock into you, grabbing your legs and placing them over his shoulders. "Tell me to stop, and I will, okay, sweetie?”

“I will.” You whispered, only to have your words cut off by a gasp as Choso pushed further inside of you. "I—fuck!”

Hearing your oft cries only pushed Choso to press himself further inside of you. He made sure to pay attention to your body, breathing, and facial reactions the entire time. He wanted you to feel as good as he did but didn't want to hurt you. Luckily for him, you were so wet; everything went as smoothly as any couple could hope for their first time. And this was one neither of you would forget.

"Are you okay, honey?" Choso asked tentatively as he pressed his hips to flush against yours. You nodded in agreement, trialing hot, open-mouth kisses down his neck, encouraging him to keep going as you rocked against him. Feeling you get into it made Choso feel drunk off of you and your pussy. He felt like he was desperately restraining himself from fucking you fast and hard, just the way he liked it. "Honey, fuck—you're making it hard to hold back."

"Then, fuck me the way you like it, Cho." You whispered as you stared into his eyes. "I want you, no matter if it's hard or slow. Being with you like this is more than I could have ever asked for.”

He growled softly, leaning in and biting down on your shoulder as he started to rail his cock into you. Losing the last remains of self-control he had. The sudden change of pace and speed left you screaming and whining as you dug your nails into his back.

"Cho!" You cried out, thrashing your head side to side against the pillows beneath you. Seeing you in such a state had Choso's eyes rolling back as he desperately fucked into you like a wild animal, growling into your shoulder. You whimpered and moaned louder, feeling your legs starting to tremble at the feeling of another orgasm approaching. "C—Cho!" Your own eyes rolled back into your head. "F-Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep fucking me this hard!"

Choso finally released his grip on your shoulder, kissing and biting at your neck between moans. "G-Good g-girl, fuck! I-I want you to c-cum on my cock, fucking milk me, honey--!"

You were going to cum, and you were going to cum hard. Not wanting to wake up his brother, you decided to follow his lead. You bit into Choso’s shoulder as hard as you could to silence your voice as she came hard around him. Getting fucked like this by your long-time crush was everything you dreamed of. And Choso felt the same as his eyes shot wide as you bit him, his teeth clenching as he groaned loudly as his cock twitched inside you, unloading his cum into you faster than he thought.

You both remained still like that, teeth and fingers digging into each other as your body shook with the aftershocks of your orgasms. You were the first to release him, panting as you pulled your teeth out of his, opting to wrap your arms around him instead. A gesture Choso was grateful for as he panted against your shimmering skin. You were pulling back to look down at you with blazing, dark eyes.

“Oh fuck." You giggled, tracing your nails down his back.

"God fuck, yeah, that was unexpected."

"It was Unexpected, but it felt so good." You whispered against his lips with a wide, warm smile.

Seeing such a warm smile made Choso melt against you as he realized he was falling harder for you. "Y-Yeah. " He let out a breathless laugh, disgrading the used condom in the trashcan before he laid back down, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. "Yeah, it did."

You relaxed against the bed, holding him close against you. "You know, I could get used to this. Hanging out at your place, making dinner, waiting for you to come home. It was nice." Your nails gently scratched at his scalp with a hum

“Only if you promise to let me take you on a real date. One that doesn't involve cartoons and crayons.” You giggled as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You know, to an actual restaurant, then we can come back and have incredible sex like this over and over again."

"Mhmm, I hope you can match my sex drive.”

Choso couldn't stop the growl that rose in his lower chest as he tightened his grip around you. "Oh, honey, that's what's good about older men like me. We have the stamina and the experience."

You giggled as Choso yanked you onto his chest, holding you tight against him. “You're only older by four years, Cho.” His hand gently rubbed up and down your arm, as he sighed contently. As you nuzzled your head into his chest, Choso couldn't help but look up at his ceiling fan. “But that difference seemed to work out in our favor.” Pulling your head back, you rested your chin on his chest, finding His dark eyes focused solely on you; it was a look that melted your heart.

“Yeah, I guess it did, didn't it?” you agreed, resting your chin against his chest.

“Yeah, but it was well worth the wait,” Choso whispered, leaning down and kissing you softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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[tenjikufag]

He Found Us.

Gojo Satoru x Male!Reader

-hurt/no comfort, young ‘parents’, Gojo saving megumi, not exactly from canon

-no one requested but this was on my mind for awhile, kind of breaking my own rules since I don’t like writing about parental roles/kids. Hope you enjoy!

Freshly 19, your boyfriend and you had moved into an apartment close to Jujutsu tech- he’d decided on becoming a mentor, a teacher, an an overseer of the school. He said it was because there was nothing suitable for him to do as job like other sorcerers do, but you knew it was because he was already far too deep into the politics of everything.

He was a target, if he were to be out of their grasps they’d do anything to put him down like a dog. Many favoured ones in past history were..

All that to say,

You lived an okay life.

Satoru had decided on the two of you living here for the foreseeable future, it was a safe place and just a walking distance for him to get into the school.

You kept up with curse fields, taking out threats like a janitor of sorts, that’s what it felt like. Nothing serious, but you always felt a twinge of unease.

Something was about to happen.

You weren’t sure what, or if it was good or bad.

But you hated surprises.

You liked to be in the know, be prepared for what’s coming. It was bothersome to allow such annoyances ruin your day, week, month, or even life.

Satoru knew this, and yet..

You had come home to a child in your apartment.

A young, spiky black haired, dark blue eyed boy sat on your couch.

Your boyfriend trying to feed him, only to be ignored by the kid- a visible scowl on the poor kids face.

“Who is that?”

The kid looked over at you, small finger pointing in your direction to which your boyfriends gaze followed- eyes brightening when they landed on you.

“That’s Y/n! He’s my boyfriend and he’ll be takin care of ya with me!”

Huh? Taking care of him? You didn’t sign up for babysitting, you had a packed schedule for the foreseeable days and weeks- no way in hell are you putting your job aside to take care of some kid.

“Huh? We babysitting?”

Approaching the pair, the kid shrunk into the couch and Gojo mumbled apologies under his breathe to the child.

“I uh, we are gonna raise him. Keep him safe, yknow? I already got all his school fundin’ taken care of-“

“What?”

You didn’t want to say anything brash, the kid obviously already emotional and bothered by the situation..

But what did he mean? Funding? School? Raising?!

There were no indications of him lying, especially with the way he tried to interact with the kid, trying to push himself into its space and almost coddle him..

Gulping, you stepped away and quickly left again.. you’d let Satoru take care of the kid until nightfall- when you came back maybe you could talk to him and make sense of it all with the kid asleep.

Kids was never a discussion you’d had with him.. I mean hell, you were two dudes. Not that there was ever any problem in your mind of same sex parents but it was never.. anything you’d envisioned for yourself. Nor was it recognized in Japan, you couldn’t even get married!

And… You didn’t want kids.

Maybe Satoru did..

What he had said about raising him.. your skin raised with goosebumps at the ‘implications’. Where did he even get the kid?! It wouldn’t be out of the question that he had happened to kidnap a kid but he couldn’t be that stupid, right?

It felt surreal, a child had infiltrated your ‘okay’ life.. you were too young to have a child in tow, what the hell did you know about raising a kid?! What did Satoru know about anything?!

It was too dangerous to have young child around, there was a reason curse users were typically born to clans; they were given a community to protect the young and vulnerable. They knew how to take care of their own, despite all the other problems they at least made sure the new heirs lived!

You didn’t even know if the kid had any cursed energy or could even see anything! This was an occupational hazard, not only for the kid but for the two of you!

Scenarios of the horrors you could face because of this made your body buzz and shake, what the hell is Satoru thinking..

—

It was dark, the night had fallen upon the now quiet city. Only a few drunks and night shift workers stumbled around.. even with the quiet, a buzzing in your ear persisted. The buzz of having to confront your boyfriend about bringing a child home without your consent.

It was a confident guess that the kid had no one else, maybe Satoru had become a saviour of sorts.. the surprise was still unforgivable.

It was dangerous.

The two of you were dangerous.

The kid deserves a safe place to grow. A stable family, not two teen dads.

And definitely not a single teen dad, if that’s what it came to.

If he didn’t have a sound explanation and plan, you weren’t going to stick around to see them fall into the depths of whatever hell awaited.

—

The door to your apartment felt like a doomed closet door, one a kid would be afraid held monsters inside. An emanating aura that only you’d fabricated oozed from it.. the cold steel on your hand causing a pulsing shiver down your spine as you turned it.

The lights were off, your apartment filled with a voiced darkness and silence.. quietly, you shut the door behind you and locked it.

It felt like you were intruding, a stranger in your home. There was no greeting, no bouncing white haired man to smile at you coming home.

“Satoru?”

A light quickly turned on, Satoru popping out of your shared bedroom in his sleep clothes. Before he could pounce on you with a typical hug, you stopped his arms and pinned them to his sides; inspecting him closely

“Is it asleep?”

“It?”

“The kid Satoru. Is it asleep?”

His lip curled in disapproval at the use of ‘it’ for a kid.

“His name is Megumi.”

“I don’t need to know it’s name.”

“He’s staying here, learn his name and stop calling him an ‘it’!”

The twisting of a scowl played on your face, letting go of him you asked once again

“Is the kid asleep?”

“Yeah, he’s been out for at least an hour.”

“Good. We need to talk.”

With a weak grip, you grabbed his wrist and led him into the bedroom once again, being sure to close the door behind you and sitting on the bed.

“Why? Why would you do this?”

He looked at you, an ignorant aura playing off him as he tilted his head.

“Do what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me Satoru, why the hell would you bring a kid home?! What are you thinking?!”

You tried not to yell, with the exasperated tone you took your voice crackled. Satoru looked at you, you held your head in your hands and he could see how you pulled at the hairs that laid themselves in your fingers.

“He had no one, he was going to be sold off to the Zen’in clan.. he was entrusted to me. I got it all figured out. Don’t worry..”

He tried to touch you, pry your hands from ripping out your hair.

“And why did you have to be the someone to take him? Don’t you understand the gravity of this situation?!”

“Yes, I do!”

With a quick swift move, you were on your feet and in your boyfriends face- an accusatory finger jabbing into his chest

“What exactly is the plan, Satoru? Huh? What is this grand plan of yours that has you so confident?”

Through gritted teeth, you waited. Waited for the grand plan and scheme the white haired man had thought up- you couldnt think of anything worthwhile in terms of the child, there were no benefits to this situation. None that you could see, even for yourself, and definitely not for the kid alone.

Why didn’t he let the kid be sold off? Why didn’t he take the kid to an orphanage, a safe haven, hell why didn’t he just surrender the kid?! He could’ve brought it anywhere, but he brought the kid here!

Surely there were better options than to take up parenting a kid. You weren’t there, you wouldn’t know, but the bottom line was that it was irresponsible and unsafe.

“He’s going to train and become a sorcerer. I’ll take him under my wing.”

The kid.. would be a sorcerer? Why? Why the hell would he sign off a kids life? He and you didn’t get a choice in the matter of becoming sorcerers, most of the people you knew didn’t have a choice either.

He, on his own cognizance, took it into his own hands to force a child into this. The kid could’ve been given a normal, safe, cozy life if he had been surrendered. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

This was selfish.

Did he want to play a grand saviour? What exactly did he gain from this? Good-will can only go so far, you can want the best for a kid that was presented with being sold off but to take them and put them in an equally, if not more, dangerous scenario was.. it was unfathomable.

“What do you mean?”

With your throat running dry, he started talking of the life long plan he had made up for the kid. He was going to take care of him not only financially but step up as a proper parental figure in the absence of his own. The idea was.. absurd in your mind.

What did the higher ups think of this?! It was clear that the funding had been allocated and discussed with them.. and they’re letting him do whatever? You knew he didn’t care what they thought and that he would go off on his own to make it work but wasn’t this negligent? It made your stomach ache, you couldn’t imagine the future and what it held anymore.

“What’s his full name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

…

…

“..Toji? Toji Fushiguro? That’s his kid?! What’s wrong with you Satoru?”

You backed away from him, body shaking in anxiety. This situation was far more dangerous than you’d initially thought.

“No wonder the Zen’ins wanted him! God, don’t you think?! Have you ever thought about anyone else outside of yourself in this situation? The kid is gonna grow up fucked up, Satoru!”

He grabbed your wrist, keeping you from leaving.

“Of course I thought about others! This is the first time in forever that I’ve actually cared about a cause! This kid will do unthinkable things, I know it. He has refined cursed technique already-“

“He has a technique? He’s going to bring carnage, Satoru. This is not a good thing, not to me, no matter how you frame it. I don’t see the good in it for the kid either, surrender him. He’ll live a better life then.”

“I’m not doing that. I made promises that I can’t let up.”

“I won’t stay here, I won’t watch you open the flood gates with this. This is dangerous.”

Pulling away from him, you pulled a duffel bag out from under your bed and started packing. You didn’t need much, just enough to keep you away for atleast a week.

“You won’t.. stay?”

“No, I won’t. I didn’t sign up for this. I love you, I do. But this is.. not something I want to be involved in. Having a kids death on my hands is not on my bucket list.”

“So you think he’ll die?”

“I know he’ll die. Not everyone is born with your gifted skill set, even if he shows promise you’re only useful to him when you’re around him. Whose to say the higher ups won’t snap his neck as soon as you’re out of sight, what’s stopping the Zen’ins from coming in and taking him from you?”

Shoving a final item into your bag, you stood and slung it over your shoulder.

“This isn’t going to be a fight I’ll be at your side for. I won’t be involved.”

Satoru looked at you in shock, he didn’t expect this from you at all. He expected you to be right by his side and help him with the transition, help him with the training and care of Megumi. The fact you’d so easily made up your mind and were already leaving not even a day into him being Megumi home.. it hit him hard. His body was frozen, feeling as if he’d crumble if he moved even a step.

He could only watch as you left the room.

You shut the door behind you, and quietly you put your bag by the door.. some weird instinct called you to check on Megumi. The guest room, well you’d guess now his bedroom, light was still off and there were no sounds coming from it. You approached, quietly turning the knob and peaking into the room.. Megumi laid in the bed peacefully sleeping.. his cheek squished against the plush pillow and a faint sheen of drool on the corner of his lip.. the scene laid before you made a faint smile tingle on your lips. Sighing softly, you entered the room quietly, barely making a sound on the floor with your steps.

You stood over the child, inspecting the things he’d brought with him.. seemed like a backpack and his own little duffel bag of things.. you knew Satoru wouldn’t leave the room until morning, or until Megumi woke up. So you’d leave the kid with one thing.

Chanting quietly, your fingers crossed and intertwined as you laid a seal on the boy. A protective seal. Satoru wouldn’t be with him 24/7, it was impossible.

The seal would protect him from other curse users, since he was young enough that his cursed energy was near undetectable this would ensure that he would go unnoticed by both users and rogue curses- at this stage the seal would also grow with him and his advancements.

Changing positions, you went to the opposite side of him and laid a second seal. This was a normal seal, one a parent would put on a young or weak clan/family member to know if they are hurt or in imminent danger. It was a duly designed formation that needed two to properly seal it- you tethered the other half to Satoru. It gave you piece of mind. Even if you weren’t going to be involved, someone other than Satoru needed to be on the kids side.. and you cared. Even if you didn’t want to, you did.

Breathing out, the final string of energy expelled from you and left a faint symbol on the kids forehead. He would be protected until he was atleast 10 or so.. hopefully he will live long enough for this seal to eventually fade, maybe he’ll progress fast enough to take it off himself.. softly smiling, you got up and left the room, making sure to close the door as gently as possible before you left the apartment.

a part two? maybe?

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

7. The Prodigal Son

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: like i said before, enjoy this one while you can because the next one is really awful. Tears were definitely shed when i wrote it. anyways. this one is cutesy. pls enjoy.

Summary: John Marston may be a tough old goat, but every once and a while he gets his head screwed on properly and makes the right decisions.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, slight misogyny, and arguing... oh and john is a warning :)

WC: 8k

“What happened?”  You shrugged, eyebrows raised with your mouth open to speak. “I’m not entirely sure. I’m fairly certain that he thought I was shacking up with Abigail.”  At this, he laughed, shaking his head and taking a step closer. That’s perhaps the funniest thing he’s heard this week. “I think he’s an idiot…” for more reason than one.

“Ah, hell naw,” you uttered under your breath, turning away from being seen by the man who just walked into the general store. You couldn’t believe your eyes at first, and thought that maybe they were playing some sort of trick on you. It’s why you chose not to believe them, until your ears betrayed you, too. 

“Mornin’ to ya, ma’am,” he tipped his hat to the next person he passed, sounding polite as ever with no real meaning behind it. He brought himself to the front, asking for the catalogue. He pulled his empty revolver and put it on the counter, ready to refill his newly bought ammunition as soon as the man behind the counter brought it forth. 

John Fucking Marston, in the flesh, looking as though not a day has passed for him. 

It always seems to be you, running into him when it’s most unfortunate. He’s been gone for months and months. Jack is coming up on his first birthday, and John hasn’t been here to see any of his milestones. His first word, his first steps, even his first robbery, which happened to be accidental. The sweet baby boy liked to grab onto whatever he saw, and didn’t always let it go to be put back. 

You snapped your head back down to look at the fishing lures you had in your hand. He’d seen your face, though, and your hair was a dead giveaway if he ever saw one. Not to mention you’ve kept up your facade of Texas Red since the train incident a while back.

“Charlie? That you?” He took rapid steps towards you before you could even attempt to turn heel and run. 

“John,” you acknowledged him, a sigh on your lips of exasperation. “Never thought I’d run into ya again.” 

“Neither did I,” he scoffed, scratching the back of his neck. 

You turned your attention back to the lures, trying to accomplish what you came here to do in picking one out. 

“Are you uh…” he trailed, trying to figure out his next words. He had a sort of excitement in him that you didn’t understand yet. “Are you still runnin’ with Dutch n’ everyone?” 

You didn’t know if you should say. Most of the gang does not take too kindly to you right now, and if you bring back the one man that everyone despises in the midst of some obnoxious camp scuffles, they might just shoot you and be rid of the nuisance. 

“I’m…” you fumbled for words, anxious to be put in this situation in the first place. “I am. We’re settled over in Dower’s Valley.”

You shouldn’t have given him a location, but you knew he’d press for it. He’s far too happy to see you and you’re lacking for reasons as to why that is. It’s a bad idea, and you know it, but you’re just full of bad ideas lately. 

“I’ll be damned…” he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve spent the last month looking for everyone. Went to our spot n’ Agua Fria and saw you guys had left. Got myself thinkin’ I wouldn’t get to see my son again. When I caught word that Texas Red was seen in El Paso, I raced out here, s’fast as I could.”

You perked up slightly at hearing this. Maybe he’d finally seen the light… The last exchange you had with him wasn’t pretty, and you swore up and down he didn’t take any of it to heart. 

“You’re gonna regret leavin’ them, believe me,” you argued, a new pair of socks in hand and a scowl on your face. “I miss my family every day.”

“You know what? You can shove that right up your ass, kid. I’ve been hearin’ that from damn near everyone lately, and the thing is, I just don’t believe it. I was fine before all this happened.”

You were hurt by his choice of words, but saw in his eyes the minute he spoke them exactly how afraid he was. Not of leaving, but of staying, and of becoming something he doesn’t wanna be. You remember the stories Arthur told you about his father, and the abuse. You can almost see it in John, in that he has decided this is the only way he won’t become his old man. 

“You’re a coward, John Marston. Someday down the road you’ll wake up and realize you’ve lost everyone you care about… and what’s worse, you’ll have lost the only ones who care about you, too.”

The last words you uttered to him rang out in your ears, and you almost missed the next thing he said. 

“I know it’s been longer than it should’ve been… but you were right.”

And you knew you would be the night he left. Now his optimism gives you hope that he really means what he says. It doesn’t make you any less frightened of what the others might say, but standing here right now, and seeing a man trying to redeem himself, you can’t help but feel the slightest obligation to help him. 

You used to hate this man. Used to sit and eat entire meals with the mother of his child and bash him throughout the conversation… But now? You can see the repentance in his eyes, and the timidness in his demeanor. He’s afraid, too.

“I’m glad to hear it, John,” you murmured, finally picking a lure and taking it to the man at the counter. “I just… I don’t think anyone back at camp wants to see you, especially if I’m the one leadin’ ya back.”

“What would be the problem? What’s wrong with you?” 

You didn’t want to do this in the store, but you knew if not here or outside with people around, you’d have to let him ride back with you so no one in this town blew your secret to the world. He already had the location, you might as well take the heat straight forward. 

“Hell, what’s not wrong with me?” You paid for the lure, and turned heel, walking to the door of the establishment. “Just follow me.”

-

You’re unsure why you avoided telling him, because you had every opportunity to do so on the ride back. The thing is, he didn’t know it just by lookin’ at you, and it made you feel a spur of adrenaline to know you still had the deception going for those outside of the gang. You were still believable as Charlie Brooks, Texas Red. 

Back at the camp, the first one to see him was Uncle, which meant that soon there was a loud and thunderous wave of commotion brought about by the older man’s obnoxious voice. It drew in nearly everyone that was present on the campgrounds. 

You did your best to slip away, hoping that you wouldn’t get blamed for whatever came of his return. 

Hearing of the news, Dutch and Arthur flung open the sides of the center tent, marching up to the young man with haste. 

Watching from the sidelines, Arthur had a look of disbelief that he wore, and Dutch? Well, you weren’t sure. He looked damn near emotional over this. You don’t know quite how to describe the look on his face.

“John,” Dutch said in a tone that no one could decipher. With another step, he looked the young man up and down, the closeness putting everyone on the edge of their seat. “You’re home.”

John let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, allowing himself to feel his own emotions on account of the leader showing his.

“I am.”

And with that, a boisterous laugh echoed from Dutch, and he raised a hand to firmly grip the young man’s shoulder, giving a good squeeze before smiling wide. “Welcome back, son.”

Arthur looked upset by this interaction. After everything the camp has been through, and after everything that he’s missed out on, the ringleader of the circus welcomed back a humble clown with open arms. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

As if there had been a call for justice herself, Abigail came shouting across the camp, carrying her skirts to make it across the way in a faster manner. You hoped to God she wouldn’t hate you for this. It was surely the truth that you only wanted to help.

“John Marston, you no good piece of shit!” She yelled, marching right up to him and slapping him across the face. He just stood there, unsure of what to do. Clearly he deserved it, but when she wound up with a fist, he wasn’t sure if he should just stand still and take it. 

“Whoa, there-” Dutch held onto Abigail’s hand before it could fly any further. “There’s no need for violence, this is a joyous occasion.”

“He can’t just come crawling back here like he owns the place!” Abigail shouted in retaliation. Dutch had always been too soft with John, and it stands to reason why he left in the first place… Arthur told him to never come back, but here he stood, and Dutch poured his affections all over him.

“She has a right to be upset, Dutch,” Arthur popped in, his brow firmly furrowed every time he even took a glance at John. The resentment you saw in his eyes was dark and twisted, and it bordered pure hatred. It was mixed with his anger towards the leader of the gang. If he’d turned his head and looked at you like that, you’d never live it down.

“Of course she does, but we aren’t going to turn away a member of this family after he’s made the decision to return.”

“How did you even find us?” Abigail questioned, the fire in her voice still very much evident. 

And now was the time to panic. You moved as far away as you could, but it wasn’t easy… 

John looked over to where you were standing, trying to linger in the back of the crowd. You made eye contact with him and shook your head desperately with wide eyes, but he went on ahead and told everyone, anyway. 

“I found Charlie in town, had him bring me home,” he paused, and right then, both Abigail and Arthur glared at you. Shit. “I’m grateful to ‘im, now I get to see my family again.”

And then a turn of events. The man who had been brushing you aside and looking at you with great anger the past several weeks, had decided to come close, a smile on his face. The ringleader of the circus indeed, coming to greet yet another clown that was acting a fool.

“I’ll owe you one, Miss Brooks.” 

John heard Dutch’s sentiment, and was confused, but didn’t dwell on it too much yet. The moment as a whole had engulfed him too much to let go.

“I just felt it was the right thing to do…” you trailed, although looking at everyone but Dutch, that feeling didn’t sustain itself. People were angry, again, likely at you. 

“Javier! Grab your guitar,” Dutch started waving his arms around. “This is cause for celebration!”

The group dispersed awkwardly, trying to look as though this didn’t bother everyone in the camp. There were murmurs of theories, mostly by Bill, as to why John came back. Some felt he missed his family, but others felt that maybe he didn’t realize just how good he had it until he had to make it on his own. 

You tried to stay out of the discussion, and away from the rest of camp for that matter, wanting to avoid conflict at all costs… but it wouldn’t last long, and you knew it.

Abigail was the first to find you, and rightfully so. She's dealt with the worst infancy a mother possibly could. Traveling as an outlaw, living in the wilderness, and having no husband to do his fair share and pick up the slack. The look on her face where you’re concerned is rightfully earned. 

“Why?” She crossed her arms when asking the single word. 

“I’m so sorry, Abigail… really, I am. I’d only gone to town to get something for Arthur and-“

“You’re not answering me,” she cut you off, unwilling to hear the bullshit excuses aside from your actual reasoning.

No, you weren’t. You were scared. She’s been on her own far longer than you have, and a part of the gang since before Texas Red ever killed anyone. Your reasoning may not be good enough for her like it was for you, but with a sigh, you spoke it aloud. 

“I miss my family… I miss the people I knew before I chose this life,” you began, taking a step closer to her. “I haven’t told any of you where I came from, and there’s a good reason… but I would give anything to see my mother again.”

“What does this have anything to do with John?” She huffed, impatiently waiting for the point you were definitely taking too long to make.

“He misses his family too. I can see it,” you explained, the genuine feeling bubbling within you again. “And who am I to deny John of something I’d give anything to have?” 

She stood still for a moment, her face unchanging until she thought about it. Her anger in all this had never truly been towards you, it all rested on John… but you brought him back. Now that she knows why, she can’t bring herself to be upset like she was. If it was true, and John really missed her and their son, it would benefit her in the long run… You’d been a good friend to her when she needed it, and she’d also been there for you when times in the gang were tough. You wanted to help her in any way you could, and even though it might have been a stupid decision, you meant well, and wanted her to have what she had been missing. 

“I understand,” she took your hand in hers, much dirtier than her soft skin for the days work you had, cleaning rifles before heading into town. “But you don’t need to miss your family. We’re all right here. I know they’re a rough bunch sometimes, but they do care about you.” 

Her words nearly brought a tear to your eyes. It was so hard to deal with the thought of being alone in this camp, having everyone despise you. But maybe they didn’t. Maybe you were still just the newest member, and you weren’t going to be fortified into their midst right away… although it’s been over a year now, and you feel that maybe Texas Red was the only reason you got to be a part of it in the first place.

“I appreciate that, Abigail. Really, I do… but I just don’t think I fit the mold that they want me to.”

“Maybe you should stop thinking so much and just live, knowing that we all would protect you if it came down to it. You’re one of us, Brooks. Always were.” 

You didn’t even stop yourself, you pulled Abigail into your arms, holding tight and letting a single tear fall down the side of your cheek. You stood quite a bit taller than Abigail, and she had to wrap her arms around your waist in order to hug you back. She rubbed up and down your back as you held her tightly, feeling so many emotions at once. She tucked her head into your shoulder, understanding for the first time what you may have been going through since the camp found out your secret. The embrace was all too comforting and healing, so of course it had to come to an end.

The moment was interrupted by the man of the hour himself.

“Abigail I-“ he cut himself short upon seeing the scene before him. “Brooks?” 

You both pulled away from one another quickly, and John didn’t know what to think. He recalls the way he approached you at the store, and how genuinely you reacted to him. Had it all just been a ruse to hide the fact that you’d betrayed him somehow? He knows he’s been gone a long time, but after just getting back, he feels enraged by the sight. The way you were so tightly wrapped around her just now was not in a manner of friendship… or at least he didn’t see it that way.

“You lead me back here to see that you stole the mother of my child, is that it?” He started going on a little rant while stomping towards you, his fists clenching. You practically jumped away from Abigail when he started nearing you.

“John, you don’t understand…” you trailed off, backing up with your hands raised. You were treating him like a disgruntled animal, which made him angrier, but to be fair, he was acting like one. 

“No, I think I understand plenty. I’ve looked everywhere for her, I’m not gonna give her up to some scrawny, carrot head kid,” he said, finally getting close enough to push you in the shoulder. Your eyes widened, and your sense of urgency to avoid a fight was now shared with the woman the fight was over.

“John, stop it!” Abigail shouted from the sidelines, trying to do her part without betting between you.

“I didn’t fight for you before, but I will now,” he said to Abigail, then turned and threw the first punch. You ducked out of the way, still backing up and trying to avoid getting your ass handed to you. You might be a man in his eyes, but that certainly don’t make it true, and you’d like to avoid major injuries tonight.

“John, just let me explain, alright?” You threw your hands up in surrender, but apparently he was just too determined to eventually make a fool out of himself. 

The second punch he threw ws faster, and even though you tried to dodge it, the hit landed on your shoulder, and you stumbled back onto the ground after hitting a tree root under your boot. 

John was immediately pushed back by Arthur, who had just caught wind of the situation. About time…

“What’s the matter with you?! You’re gonna hurt her!” Arthur yelled out, confusing John even more. 

“Her?!” John's head tilted to the side, and his face scrunched up in disgust. The puzzle pieces started moving in his head, but he was still baffled.

“Yes. Her,” Arthur retorted back, turning to you and offering a hand. “You alright, Red?”

You looked up at him, relieved for his assistance in not letting you get killed for doing something stupid. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You’d been causing a whole bunch of stupid lately.

“I’m alright…” 

“Someone better tell me what in shit’s name is going on here,” John huffed out, making the scene even louder and more obnoxious than before. 

You stood up with Arthur’s help, trying to keep a slight distance from John. He still looks mighty angry with you.

“She’s a lady, you dumbass,” Arthur explained, and it took John all of five seconds to finally let that information register before he went off the hinges.

“What? You mean all this time-?”

“Yeah,” you cut in, not wanting to experience the moment any further. The first time was enough with the whole camp bein’ on the opposing side. Adding John after everything would just be overkill. “All this time. But you weren’t around when it came out.”

“I guess that somehow makes it alright for you to lie to me,” John scoffed, his eyes narrowing at you, but Arthur was still in the way. “This is why the camp wasn’t fond of you, huh? Didn’t bother to mention that to me when we rode back here.”

“Don’t pull that shit, John. You can’t say anything about any of us… we were all here when you weren’t,” Arthur said sharply, springing to your defense. “She’s never been disloyal to us, and you have. Don’t go pointing out the splinter in her eyes when there’s a plank in yours, you understand?” 

“I can’t believe this,” John shook his head, his anger ramping up again. “I know I’ve been through a rough patch, but I never thought I’d see the day when you defended an outsider over me. My own brother…” 

“She is not an outsider!” Abigail finally joined in, retaliating against the words being thrown around. 

“Not you, too…” John trailed, but Abigail was livid.

“How dare you abandon me, forsake your own son, then place the blame on the only person who brought you back?” She looked to him, trying to find a semblance of contrition behind the raging inferno in his eyes. “You should be ashamed of yourself, John Marston. You might be back, but that don’t mean you’ve changed.”

And with that, she went stomping away to create space between herself and John. She had loved him so dearly, so fiercely. The amount of times he broke her heart finally turned that love into resentment, and having understood that for the first time, John dropped his head. He did feel ashamed. He waltzed back into the home he’d left for no good reason, and expected everyone to react the way that Dutch did. How foolish of him?

He didn’t say much after that, just heaved a sigh and turned to you and Arthur. 

“M’sorry, she’s right…” Then he wandered off, too.

The rest of camp didn’t seem to notice the commotion as much, given the scuffle had begun towards the outside of the boundaries.

Arthur turned to you once the heat had officially settled, his eyes tired from many events in the day. 

“What happened?” 

You shrugged, eyebrows raised with your mouth open to speak. “I’m not entirely sure. I’m fairly certain that he thought I was shacking up with Abigail.” 

At this, he laughed, shaking his head and taking a step closer. That’s perhaps the funniest thing he’s heard this week.

“I think he’s an idiot…” for more reason than one.

Arthur seemed to be acting normal, but you felt that perhaps there was still some underlying annoyance towards you for being the instigator in all this.

“You’re mad, aren’t you? That I brought him back?” You asked, feeling more comfortable in the air around him, now.

“Nah, I ain’t mad at you. I reckon if you didn’t tell him where we were, he’d have followed you anyway,” he reasoned. His hands scratched the back of his neck. “What did you go into town for, anyway? I’d been looking for you.”

He’d been looking for you…

“Oh, well,” you dipped a hand into your pocket, pulling out the fishing lure from the general store. “I remembered that yours had broken, and I wanted to get you something as a thank you for that one night in the saloon a while back.” 

He smiled at the small token of affection. Barely anything of value, but something you took the time to get while thinking of him.

“You didn’t have to get me nothin’, you know?” 

“I know… but I’m grateful. Who knows what might’ve happened if you didn’t show up,” you shrugged again, trying to shove it off as your abundant thanks, and not your own need to buy gifts for him. He does it for you, it should be okay to return the favor…

“I s’pose I appreciate it, I did need a new one…” he trailed, putting the lure in his satchel for later, then looking at you with a slightly puzzled expression. “Did you ever remember anything about that night?” 

You shook your head. That night was a fuzzy blur. You vaguely remember shooting a man and drinking yourself silly, but you don’t remember the dead man’s name or how much you drank after. You didn’t even remember when Arthur showed up. Just knew he was there the next morning when your tormenting headache came to be. He’d told you a story of how you were so drunk that you rambled on, but never told you what about.

“I don’t… and I cower in fear every time you refuse to tell me what happened.”

Arthur wanted so badly to bring up the words you had said, to bring up the fact that in your drunkenness, you openly told him you loved him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, just on the off chance that you would deny it, and reject those feelings. He couldn’t handle that, not after Mary. Arthur Morgan is a man that tries to learn from his mistakes, and he knows how much it hurts when he makes them in the first place.

“It’s for the best that I don’t, I promise.”

You shook your head, leaving it there, knowing that if you’d truly said something despicable, or terribly embarrassing, that the knowledge of that could be worse. Ignorance is bliss, and you’re just glad Arthur cares enough about you to keep you in that blissful state.

The gang had begun festivities later in the night, and after a few drinks, everyone was seemingly more than happy to have John back. They had all had their reservations about the bigger picture, of course, but they couldn’t say it didn’t feel right to have him back. He seemed to pick up where he left off with most folk, only having to make a few humble apologies to those who wouldn’t turn his way until he did. Susan Grimshaw being the hardest to convince, of course.

The campfire was bustling with songs that emanated from Javier’s guitar. Uncle had been drinking so much that he was in a tizzy, throwing his body around even though he didn’t have a partner. It was fun to watch him stumble into the Calendar boys, holding their drinks steadily so as to not spill over.

You always danced lead with one of the girls, even after your secret was revealed, you’d never learned any differently because you didn’t care to. It’s not like you wanted a very specific person to ask you, anyway. But you didn’t mind. Being fairly taller than all the women, it puts you at an advantage to dance with them. If you were being honest, you hated the idea of Bill even having the opportunity to ask, 

The girls kept you plenty of company, it’s not like you were hurting for attention. They were wonderful and lively and you smiled whenever they pulled you to the center of the dance circle. 

You stayed away from Abigail as best you could, trying not to spark anymore fits of rage from John, but she had come seeking you out for a dance despite him. After the spat earlier, he hadn’t been brave enough to ask her. 

“Care to dance?” She asked, a tilt of her head. You’d still been a bit sweaty, not just from the dancing but from the other more strenuous events of the day. Still, you obliged.

“It’d be my honor, Miss Abigail.”

You playfully bowed your hat, placing it back on the sweaty crown of your head when you were done. 

She didn’t even give you a chance to lead her out, pulling you impatiently by the arm and joining in on the music. 

You laughed your head off a little more into the song. It would appear your dance partner had been drinking quite a bit. Not that you can blame her. The fact that she is even able to function after John came back is a great indication of just how good she is at letting the water roll off her back. You wanna ask her how she’s handling it, but after a small spin atop the dirt, she finds herself in a giddy stumbling mess, dropping to the ground, though you tried not to let her fall too hard. 

She was giggling like a young schoolgirl, and threw her head back in laughter. You figured you should help her up right about now, and maybe even help her to bed for the night, but John stepped in when you least expected him to. He offered Abigail his hand over yours. 

“Let me get her,” he spoke softly, and with clarity of soberness. Was he not drinking at his own celebration? 

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, Brooks… thanks for dancing with her,” he nodded to you. His softer tone was surprisingly pleasant. It didn’t seem like there was any other underlying emotion or malice, just his affection for Abigail and the need to make it up to her. Maybe he had changed, but felt the need to prove it.

You lifted your hands in surrender, stepping backwards away from the situation. Abigail didn’t fight him like you thought she might. Just arose quickly to her feet with his help. You leaned on a tent post in the corner and watched them amidst the other chaos that was this celebration. 

You’d been too focused to feel a presence looming besides you.

“You having a good time?” Arthur’s voice spooked you like a horse.

“Shit, Arthur. You’re gonna scare me to death one day….” You trailed, your words ending in a smile. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled, still waiting for an answer to his question. 

“I’m having as good a time as I can. I still feel responsible for everything that happened today,” you sighed out, going back to watching the festivities and crossing your arms. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you why you did it… Abigail told me some, but I think there’s more.” 

“More?” You turned to him, unsure of what was passed on to him. What more could there be? 

“I reckon so,” he paused, coming a step closer than before. “I know you miss your family, Red, I know it. But we’re your family too.” 

“You are…” you agreed, the emphasis on him specifically.

“And I know you’d give anything to protect this family. That’s why I think there’s something else behind your reasonin’. You wouldn’t just bring him back here knowing how we all felt about it…”

You blinked a couple times, digging through your brain for an answer that might not exist, but upon realizing there could be something more, you found it, easy as pie.

You quickly averted your eyes to the ground, trying to keep him out of your head, but he simply took up too much space there, and you couldn’t block him out of a place that he lived in on a regular basis. 

“Red?” He asked gently, lifting your chin with his finger to meet his eyes. “You can tell me.”

You met his eyes with a bit of fog behind your own, which would turn to wetness if you weren’t careful. He deserved to know. He’s the reason, but you don’t know how to tell him. You aren’t brave enough to give it to him directly.

“I think… I think that watching Abigail without John made me realize how important it is to have someone. And I’ve never had a someone, so I tried to help Abigail instead,” you spoke as evenly as you could, making sure that the point of your words was not missed. “She’s gone through so much without him… and after he left, she tried to act like she didn’t miss him, but I knew better.”

Abigail did miss John. He was her someone, as you so sweetly put it. You deserved a someone, too… 

He nodded in understanding, looking back out at the celebration and then to you again. He knew that the times of tiptoeing around each other was soon coming to an end. Ever since that night in the saloon, He’d been planning what he might say to you when the time was right. 

“Red, I know you don’t remember that time in town, you were pretty drunk… but you said that you loved me. And now I’m telling you…” was his preference for an opener, and he’d practiced it many times… but it’s not the words that he spoke tonight. He doesn’t know why he chickened out, but when he speaks, it still comes across in a way that lets you know a little of what he’s feeling.

“I think you’re gonna have a someone, Red,” he told you. 

The look you gave him melted his heart, and he couldn’t help but move his hand so that it held the side of your face. 

He almost leaned in, and almost did what he’d been waiting to do for a while. You looked so pretty, a gentle glow of sweat on your brow, being illuminated by the light of the campfire blazing wildly. His heart was beating rapidly, and his hands had clammed up. He had to do something, because this moment couldn’t be wasted. 

He offered his other hand to yours, dropping the one by your cheek.

“You wanna dance with me?”

Your cheeks turned red and you snapped out of your trance, smiling shyly as if he’d asked you something of impropriety. 

“I’m uh… not sure if I’d be any good. I only dance with the girls,” you shook your head, but kept your eyes on his. You didn’t shoot him down, just gave a little excuse.

“Didn’t you learn how? Back in your days of needlepoint and fancy dresses?” He asked jokingly, earning a laugh from you in return.

You honestly wished that had been the case. It was what your mother had always wanted for you.

“No. I never had a coming out season, my father had already decided he was going to marry me off, so I missed out on parties and things like that,” you explained, to which he frowned playfully. 

He acted like he was thinking for a moment, scratching the side of his head.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he took your hand, leading you into the fiery circle, where everyone else just barely noticed the two of

you. 

You giggled and played along, watching as he took a dramatic bow in front of you. It received him a curtsy in reply, which was actually decent for someone who wasn’t even wearing a dress. 

“Alright, let’s do this proper,” he said firmly, one hand going to your waist and pulling you in. 

Your breath hitched, and for the second time tonight, you fell into a trance. You watched every move he made, when he took your hand and placed it on his shoulder, your other hand being raised soon after. He took the time to lace his fingers with yours, the closeness of even your hands touching made your skin burn. 

“I just follow your lead, huh?” You said with a smirk, trying to regain the upper hand in this interaction, though you should have known that taunting Arthur Morgan would only get you deeper in. 

“That’s right,” he told you, taking a step and while doing so, using his hand at your waist to pull you even closer. 

You almost tripped, straightening yourself back up before he took another step. 

“Whoops,” he mumbled with a snicker, holding you up strongly. He could probably just carry you around in that arm, with his hand splayed widely across your lower back.

“You big jackass…” you trailed, trying to be annoyed, but failing when a laugh escaped you. 

“If ya can’t handle that, maybe we should try this,” he said with easy confidence, letting go of the hand he was holding and placing it around his shoulders. Once he was satisfied with the placement, his arm went around your waist. 

There was practically no distance between you both, and you couldn’t care less. You hadn’t had much to drink, but regardless of that fact, you felt completely drunk on the feeling of him. He was everywhere, all over you, and the gentle sway of your bodies as the guitar strumming got slower was causing the world to spin… but you kept your eyes on Arthur. His voice hummed along to Javier’s playing ever so softly, and if you weren’t already in a puddle by that fact, you could feel every time he took an inhale, his chest against yours. 

“You know I think you’re not so bad a dancer, so long as I’m holdin’ you up,” he joked, a smile on his face, but a focused look in his eyes. 

“The girls might say otherwise, they always choose me over the other men…” you teased, but you couldn’t end it there, because what fun would that be? “But I’ll have to let em’ know my future dance cards are full.” 

“Full, huh? I guess I’m just that good.” 

You laughed, looking away from him for only a moment. Everyone in the camp was still lingering, but no one paid you any mind. It was just you and Arthur in your own little world. 

This is it, you think. This is what I’ve been looking for all this time.

“It’s not the dancing I’m fond of,” you shook your head, bringing a hand up his neck to tangle in the strands of his hair. 

He knew it then, he was gonna kiss you. The fire burned brightly, helping to ignite his confidence in the act. He too let a hand slip away, taking it from your waist, using it to brush aside a fallen strand of hair from your face before settling it on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his palm, the warmth of it on your face was almost too much to handle… but then you settled into that feeling. The warmth, the closeness, the touch, and the intimacy. 

You came to yet another realization. Though you miss your old family, you know that you are a part of this one, and more than that, your true home is here. Not in El Paso, and not in the camp. Not even in the gang… but with Arthur. He’s home. He’s safety. He’s love…

You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you with a look that was full of awe and emotion. You have no idea how much he’s had to drink, but you know he’s sober as anything when you catch whiff of how anxious he is to make a move. Like he wants to, but he’s terrified of overstepping, or doing something wrong. He knows he can’t screw this up, he’ll never get over himself…

You’re about to make a move in his stead when a shriek echoes through the camp. 

You both jump back, searching the camp for the location of distress. When there’s another scream, everyone takes off into the direction it came from. 

Turning a corner of a tent in the back of camp. Mary-Beth is pressed against a tree, scared for her life as a wild snake slithers towards her. Usually rattlesnakes aren’t as common in this area, but the sound of it alone made you realize it was dangerous. 

You were the first to pull your gun and shoot it straight through the head as it got closer to the poor girl. 

“You alright, Mary-Beth?” Arthur asked her, stepping forward to take a look at her, make sure no bites were made. 

She nodded, allowing him to see the exposed points of her skin. It shouldn’t make you jealous, how gentle and caring he is over her, but with how you were just interrupted, you want nothing more than to tear him away and do the job yourself. 

All the while Sean is picking up the dead snake and examining it closely. “She’s a rattler a’right…”

Everyone that gathered gasped where they stood. Having rattlesnakes in the camp would mean having to work on putting up precautions for every person’s living space, and probably traps. It was dangerous, especially with a baby around, but the safety of the people came first. 

You heaved a sigh as everyone started conversing and planning, holstering your gun and backing away. The events of the day were starting to weigh on you, and moreover, the frustration of not getting what you want, which is Arthur.

You’d belonged to him for some time now, and you were so close to letting him know that… but Arthur belonged to the camp. You knew that. 

You chanced a look over your shoulder at him, speaking with Dutch who was likely about to give him orders. Ever the loyal soldier, Arthur obeyed every command Dutch could ever throw him. It’s admirable, and always has been, but if only for tonight, you wished he could walk away and finish what he started.

The dragging of your feet in the dirt was childlike, but you just couldn’t help yourself. It was only when you got to the edge of your tent, right beside Arthur’s, that a voice stopped you. 

“Brooks?” 

You let out a breath, pulling yourself back together. “John…”

“You turnin’ in?” He asked hushed, scratching his neck. 

“Guess so. You need something?”

He huffed a sigh of exasperation. He’s had a long day, but nothing quite so challenging as yours, and you think he knows it.

“No,” he shook his head, but stepped forward anyway. “Just here to apologize.”

You stood still, shifting your weight to one foot and crossing your arms. You were willing to hear him out, however tired and exhausted of this day you might be.

“Alright.”

“I was actin’ a fool earlier. I know that now…” he began, taking his hat off and holding it to fidget with. “You oughta know, I feel real silly about it.”

“It’s fine, John, really,” you said in response, taking the high road but also just trying to speed this along. You’d much rather be getting to bed right now. 

“Even still. I’m sorry I hit ya, and I’m glad Arthur stopped me, I’d have felt awful…”

You didn’t say anything at the first mention of Arthur. You were still frustrated that he wasn’t in your tent right now, making good use of the lovely evening. You don’t even know if it would have gone that far or if he even wanted that with you, but you’re fairly certain he was gonna kiss you before that rattlesnake showed up. You should’ve unloaded your pistol in its body.

John cleared his throat to gather your wandering attention once more, and you gave him a narrow lipped smile.

“I s’pose I’m gonna have to apologize to Arthur next, tell ‘im I’m sorry for hittin’ his girl.”

You flicked your head to him immediately, no longer wandering when he spoke those words. Yes, you’ve been called ‘Arthur’s girl’ before, but never has it been true, and never has it been by someone who didn’t hear the rumors that started. John has only been back for an evening. He couldn’t possibly have heard anything about that. 

“You think I’m Arthur’s girl?” You asked inquisitively. 

He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Well, ain’t you?” 

You didn’t even know how to respond, a million more questions stacking up. You settled on the most prominent one. 

“Not that I know of… but what makes you think that I am?” You stepped closer, keen on his answer. 

“He’s the only man you danced with… I assumed you were off limits to the others,” he explained matter of factly, but your head was spinning from his first inquiry, still.

“I usually just dance with the girls… but tonight’s the first night he’s asked me.” 

“Huh…” he trailed, smiling slowly but shaking his head. “I guess I had it all wrong, then. My mistake.”

He placed his hat back on his head, though it was dark outside and there was no need for it at all. He started taking steps backwards, nodding to you as he did. “Goodnight, Charlie… I can still call you that, right?”

“Yes sir,” you laughed a little, tipping your head in a gentle gesture. “Night, John.”

And with that, you were finally free to sleep.

-

Arthur had to have a smoke after everything about the snakes had been settled. He was still calming down from two adrenaline rushes, one after another. The kiss that never happened, and the scream from across camp. He was still smiling to himself about the former, taking slow drags of his cigarette to try and ease himself. He was leaning against the same tree that Mary-Beth had been cornered by the rattler. 

He kept going over the scene in his head, how quickly everything seemed to change in the blink of an eye. He wants to beat himself to a pulp for taking his sweet time, and not savoring the opportunity he had. He’s had many, come to think of it, but he always backs out. He can’t seem to drop the cowardly part of himself that asks too many questions. Can’t seem to shake the fact that he believes himself unworthy. 

Mary thought he wasn’t good enough… she left him… what’s to stop his Red from doing the same?

Every drag of the cigarette was helping to release those thoughts, but he had to take a moment, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the tree.

“Arthur?” 

And as if John hadn’t caused enough trouble today, he came lurking towards the tree, a smirk on his face. He had no reason to wear an expression like that, at least Arthur thought so. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your son? S’why you came back, right?”

And another drag of the cigarette was inhaled and released before John stood closer to Arthur. 

“I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now, but I have something to say,” he held his hands up in defense before laying one on Arthur’s shoulder. It was a gamble for sure, but he tried his luck. 

“Out with it, then.”

John huffed a laugh before smiling genuinely. 

“I’m happy for you, brother.”

Arthur was immediately confused. He didn’t think there was anything to be happy about right now. His stress levels arose multiple times in the day and yet somehow John clearly sees something he doesn’t. How convenient. 

“What’re ya talking about?” He let out, furrowed brows and an intrigued stare. 

“I’m talking about you and Charlie,” John laughed, acting as though it were obvious, and to him it was. Arthur had always been around when John joined up in the gang. From a young age he watched his older counterpart fail miserably in the world of love… but tonight he witnessed something different. A woman who looked at his brother like he hung every star in the sky, and Arthur looked at her like she was the best gift that anyone has ever given him.

Arthur felt caught. Like a deer by a hunter, he wanted to leap for cover, to avoid speaking those things aloud. Especially to John, and especially right now. 

Marston is right, but Arthur just can’t give him that satisfaction right now. He’s been gone for too long to have that sort of reward.

“I should turn in, it’s getting late,” he said, stomping out his cigarette under his boot. “You should, too.” 

“Alright, I see how it is. I understand…” John nodded, backing away and looking to the middle of camp. “I’m still happy for you.” 

Arthur breathed deeply, nodding his head once in a brief thanks before going his separate way. 

He walked to the edge of his wagon, feeling a slight temptation to peek around the corner and check on you. When he saw that your tent flaps were open, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to just make sure you were sleeping soundly. And you were. 

Your head was propped up on your arm, and your face was peaceful, resting in whatever dream your head had concocted for the night. 

He looked at the small stand by your cot, the only things present atop it being your pistol, and a dried orange flower that had still been beautiful to look at. He smiled at it, then turned heel and went to his wagon set-up. He’d bring you a thousand flowers someday.

He was a dead man walking for you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

-

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 5

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

According to the “robin growth map”—

Number 1, under Roger’s guidance, I will become a strong woman and safely finish my month as Fairytale Keeper.

Number 2, I will teach Roger about romantic feelings and prove that romantic love exists.

Maybe because I had weight off my shoulders now that I had a clear objective, but…I ended up drinking too much.

--

(...This…isn’t my room?)

Looking around, I found myself in a room surrounded by bookshelves in every direction as if in a forest of books.

Kate: Oh wait, my clothes…!

(Ah, thankfully I’m wearing them…)

As I let out a sigh of relief, memories from last night came flooding back to me.

Kate: …Yesterday, I had dinner and drinks with Roger.

Roger: *yawn*...You’re already making so much noise in the morning.

Kate: Eek! Roger.

Roger: Hm? From that look on your face, you’re remembering things, huh?

He bullied me a lot at the bar yesterday so now I’m used to seeing his wicked smiles.

Kate: You goaded me into drinking until I got wasted. I couldn’t walk home and then ended up here…That’s what happened, right?

Roger: Correct. You’re so competitive that provoking you’s easy.

Kate: Please don’t do that again…And I’m sorry for any trouble I caused.

When I apologized sincerely, Roger smiled as if he found another toy.

Roger: It’s fine. I got plenty of kisses in return.

Kate: Huh? Kisses?!

(I don’t remember that!)

Roger: What I said just now was the opposite of the opposite of the opposite of a lie. The opposite.

Kate: The opposite of the opposite…W-which is it!

Roger: Who knows. Which do you want it to be?

Even though I’m used to seeing this smile, seeing it too much makes me feel sick.

(D-damn it!)

(I’m an adult, so I should drink at my own pace from now on)

Roger: …

It suddenly felt like there was a smile in his gaze, and as he stared at me while lying on his side, my heart started beating just a little louder.

(Without his glasses, Roger looks a little younger…and even cute)

However, he kept staring at me and I felt agitated.

Kate: What is it?

Roger: Mmm, I was listening in on the dining room. Everyone’s talking about the robin growth map.

Kate: You heard that?

How was that even possible in a castle so big?

Kate: How did you hear everyone in the dining room from here?

Roger: Ah, I didn’t tell you? Cursed Ones all have their own unique powers. Mine’s “abnormal hearing”, which lets me hear sounds within 100 yards.

Kate: 100 yards?!

Given how the close the rooms are despite how big this estate is…

So up until now… +4 +4

There’s no privacy?

Roger’s indecency!

Kate: Huh, so up until now…?

Roger: Don’t worry. I can tune my hearing in and out. Learning to do it was pretty hard.

Roger’s difficulties aside, I was relieved to know that he didn’t hear everything.

(Not that I fully got it, but…)

Kate: Going back to before, how does everyone know about the growth map!

Roger: I told them last night ‘cause I thought it was interesting. They all got high hopes for your growth, so you’re gonna have to work hard, okay?

(T-this man~~!)

Kate: Geez, you’re always so selfish!

I couldn’t help but smack him when he smirked at me.

Roger: You better strengthen your arms too. That felt like a massage.

Kate: You!

After that, every pillow and cushion I threw at Roger wound up on the floor. It was a failed counterattack against Roger.

But—talking with Roger did make me feel a bit better.

That was something he absolutely couldn’t know about.

--

Roger: …I’m done removing the stitches. I’ve never seen anyone get stabbed as often as you do.

Jude: …

After the stitches from the stab wound in his side were removed, Jude slipped his shirt back on without a word.

Roger: But you did a nice job dodging most of it so you were only left with a shallow wound.

Jude: Ya want payment for this, don’t ya? Get it over with then.

In exchange for blood samples…Roger treated Crown’s wounds.

Jude: Why ya even fussin' over that woman.

Roger: That woman? Ah, you mean Kate?

Jude: You’re a super pervert that only cares about your own research and don’t like dealin’ with trouble.

Roger: I didn’t think I wanted to keep her around at first. Unfortunately, I don’t have a problem with women.

As he stuck a needle in Jude’s arm, Roger smiled as he recalled something.

Roger: However, the way she keeps looking ahead even when feeling down’s sweet. I don’t hate that kind of attitude.

Jude: That’s why you’re meddlin’ with a growth map. How nice of ya.

Roger: As long as there’s a clear goal, a dream…something to do, no matter how small, humans will manage to get by. Aren’t you the same, Jude?

Jude: …Ha. It’s not that pure. If ya got it, then shut it ya quack.

Roger: Sure, sure. Your temper makes it easier to draw blood, thanks.

He removed the needle and slowly swirled the syringe.

Roger: Well, the main reason’s cause she’s fun to watch. Reminds me of my dog.

Jude: The dumb corgi draggin’ his belly?

Roger: He may be dumb, but he’s also a genius. He’s the reason why I love dogs. Ah, it’s been so long. I wanna pet his fat belly. So fluffy and flabby…Ah, I miss him so much it’s like I can hear his voice.

Jude: …

Roger: Hey, I can hear barking…Am I working too hard?

Kate: Um, Roger!

There Kate stood with a corgi in her arms.

Roger: Ah, two dogs.

Jude: No, it’s your stupid dog and stupid Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: Ale!

Ale: Arf arf!

Kate: Ale?

Kate looked down at the corgi.

Roger: The corgi you’re holding. He’s my dog. Named “Ale” after the color of beer. Ale, you’re such a good boy. You look like you’re in great shape today.

Ale: Arf arf.

Ale wagged his tiny tail in Kate’s arms.

Roger: So, why’d you show up holding Ale?

Kate: Earlier there was a man who said he was your father. He asked me to take care of him because he was going to be away from England on business for a while. After leaving him with me, he disappeared before I could ask for this little one’s name…

Roger: That’s definitely my old man. He’s a busy doctor, always on the move.

Kate: I think I remember hearing something about keeping his patients waiting.

Kate giggled and set Ale down.

Ale ran over to Roger, placed his paws on Roger’s knees and sniffed him.

Roger: This one usually lives at my dad’s clinic. Whenever my family needs him, Ale’s left with me.

Jude: Selfishness runs in the family, huh. The hell kind of family’s that?

Ale: Arf arf arf.

Jude: Oof. Don’t jump on me, your too warm. Hold ‘im properly. You’re the ones takin’ care of him, don’t make others do it.

Kate: Woah…Jude, hold him more gently, please.

Ale wound up back in Kate’s arms again and settled in as if used to them already.

Roger: Ale will be with Crown for a while. Ah, right. Kate. I was about to call for you.

Kate: …? There’s no missions today.

Roger: Well, just follow me. Ale too.

Kate and Ale: Okay./Arf.

When a person and a dog answered at the same time, Roger’s laugh echoed throughout the room.

Roger: …Pfft, hahahaha! You two really are alike.

--

Kate: This is…?

I had changed into a plain blouse and skirt that revealed my ankles like Roger told me to.

Roger: I’m gonna teach you self-defense. The fastest way to get stronger is by training your body first.

If I was going to continue to accompany Crown on their missions, I needed to protect myself.

Kate: Thank you for considering what I needed.

Roger: Of course. Physical strength’s an important part of the “robin’s growth map”. 

Ellis: Good luck, Kate.

Kate: Yeah! …Huh, why is Ellis here?

I blinked at Ellis who suddenly appeared.

Ellis: My two favorite people were here so I wanted to join in.

Roger: Good timing. Ellis knows how to make good use of his body us him as an example.

Ellis: I’m in your care, Kate.

Kate: Likewise!

Ellis smiled at me and stroked a sitting Ale’s head.

Ellis: It’s been a while, Ale. Let’s have a lot of fun together.

Ale: Arf.

Whenever Ale was left with Crown, Ellis usually looked after him.

(Ellis is really fond of Roger, isn’t he?)

(Roger pays special attention to him too…Hehe, it’s like they’re close brothers)

And so my self-defense training with Roger started off calmly.

Roger: First rule of self-defense is paying attention to your surroundings. It’s important to keep your eyes on your opponent and the situation, where they’re looking, the position of their hands, any walls or obstacles around. I’ll demonstrate, so watch carefully, Kate. Ellis, try and grab me from anywhere.

Ellis: Okay, here I go.

Ellis’ long arms grab at Roger’s wrist like a whip.

Roger: Kate, what do you think I should do in this situation?

Kate: Create some distance because being close is dangerous.

Roger: Unfortunately, that’s incorrect. In this case-

Roger stepped closer to Ellis.

With a simple twist of his wrist, he freed himself from Ellis’ grasp.

Ellis: Huh? When?

Roger: To put it simply, it’s the principle of leverage. The further the force is away from the pivot point, the easier it is to move the object. Additionally, the closer the pivot point is to the object, the easier…

Ellis: …?

Kate: ??

Roger: …Let’s just save that for later. Anyway, if you wanna free your wrist when it's grabbed, bring your elbow toward your opponent… Twist it like this and you’ll free yourself with little effort.

Roger nodded me over and grabbed my wrist.

Roger: Have a go at it.

Kate: Okay…!

 I had a hard time in the beginning, but after several tries, I became familiar with using my body…

Kate: Ha…!

Suddenly, my wrist slipped out of Roger’s hand.

Kate: Wow, I did it…!

Roger: It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Now then, let’s move on to the next step.

(Eh?)

My eyes widened as I found myself suddenly pinned my arms behind my back.

Roger: Step two, what to do when someone holds you.

Kate: Hey, wait. What should I do?

Roger: Hey, I told you that trying to force your way out’s gonna make it worse. First, go limp, like a puppet that just got its strings cut.

Kate: In this state?! That’s impossible.

Ellis: You can do it, Kate.

If you go limp, you’ll fall thanks to gravity.

Your opponent will try to keep you up, and that’s when you push their arms up and slip out.

—Along with learning theory, I was drilled with techniques over and over again until they became muscle memory.

(First, I need to learn how to protect myself)

(If I can do that, then I think I can become someone who protects people important to me)

--

Kate and co.’s lively voices could be heard throughout Crown’s castle’s garden.

There, two figures slink about unnoticed.

Nica: Oh, sounds like they’re having fun. Crown’s closer than I thought. They’re like a “family”.

Next

[surrogate-fawn]

The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it. 

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did. 

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me. 

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either. 

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go. 

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day. 

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.  

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out. 

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door. 

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway. 

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile. 

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do." 

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it. 

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair. 

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break." 

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually." 

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er." 

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay." 

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?" 

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!" 

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright. 

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!" 

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-." 

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back. 

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.  

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all. 

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?" 

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up." 

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying." 

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?" 

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.  

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time. 

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was. 

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either. 

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there." 

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

 "They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face. 

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food. 

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!” 

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina. 

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry. 

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting. 

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me. 

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life. 

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch. 

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened. 

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all. 

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam. 

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward. 

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset. 

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand. 

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet. 

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!” 

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest. 

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone. 

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum.  The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . . 

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly. 

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own. 

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

[hornymotionalcookie]

Forgot today was Wednesday so lets WIP it

This here is another piece of this story. It's up to 8k now. And haven't even gotten to the good stuffus yet. 😏

Instead, have some siblingly vibes from some of my fav fictional siblings.

Now it was Sam's turn to chuckle at his sweet little sister. He leaned his head atop hers, turning to kiss her forehead before he did, "Yeah, I know you all worry and care. It's just... Sometimes I'm scared he was my only shot at happiness and we missed it, ya know? We had so many plans and the sickness... It came out of nowhere and burnt through him so quickly and the idea of losing like that again – I don't know if I have it in me to love and lose someone like that again, Sarah." His voice broke, tears burning his throat.

Losing Riley was the deciding factor for his moving North, his final straw. Everything back home reminded him of all those he'd lost in such quick succession. Titi, Daddy, Mama, Riley… He had a long list of loss and heartache and he was afraid to add anymore names to it, even though it was an inevitable part of loving.

Sarah understood Sam's fears deeply. She flashed back briefly to both their shared and her personal bouts of loss: their aunt, their dad, and a second trimester miscarriage right around the year mark of losing their mom. "The fear of losing feels impossible to ever live with, Sam. I remember well as I laid in bed for all those months after... After. You and Jody wouldn't give up on me. And when he had to go back to work, to keep the restaurant going, you flew back down, moved in for the long haul and barely left my side except when Jody came home to hold me through the night.

"For over a year, Sam, you were here with me after moving away from the pain of losing Riley. Without your love and support and patience through your own hurting, I may have given up entirely. My marriage may have been just another loss. And I might never have known the greatest joy in my life, being a mother to two, soon to be three, beautiful babies." Sarah rested a protective hand over her extended belly.

"Finding out I was pregnant again with Cass was both the happiest and most terrified I'd ever been because I didn't think I'd survive that type of loss again, either. I wasn't even sure I would want to. But your voice of encouragement, of telling me I'd be the best mom just like our mom, you have no idea how much hearing that helped. So let me do the same for you."

"What, tell me I'm gonna be a great mom?" Sam joked softly and Sarah pinched him.

"No, you jerk! Though you'd be as amazing a parent as you are an uncle, I've no doubt." Sam smiled shyly at the compliment. "You, Samuel Thomas Wilson, will make some man, the right man, so unbelievably happy one day and you deserve no less in return. It's scary, I know it is, to risk the hurt and the heartache again, but love is worth it and so are you." Sarah picked her head up off his shoulder and smiled tearfully up at her big brother.

Sam's eyes betrayed him, spilling the tears that mirrored hers, tasting salt as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

[skeletboi]

Intridimensional AU part 20! (So many parts 🤔)

First /// Previous /// Next

Also part 19.5 (silly extra sketch) here!

______________________________________

Ford took off his sweater vest and laid it carefully over Stan's sleeping form before returning to Fiddleford's side. They had spent the last hour speaking with the other creatures hiding out in the cave and had come up with somewhat of a plan of action, but had decided to stay here for a few hours and rest. 

Stan had easily fallen asleep, turns out being used to napping wherever and whenever you could came in handy when you accidently fall through a portal. Ford and Fiddleford on the other hand, could not so easily shut their brains off. 

“Do you need help?” Ford asked as he watched Fiddleford attempt to organize the pile of gadgets the other refugees had given them with only one hand. 

“Definitely. But not with this.” Fiddleford replied. 

“Right.” Ford said, looking away. 

Fiddleford stayed silent as he continued to mess with the gadgets, and Ford accepted the silence for all of 30 seconds before speaking up again. 

“Fiddleford, I'm so sorry.” He said quietly. 

Fiddleford put down the gadget he was holding and looked up at the rocky wall across from him. 

“I know. Ya said that already, Stanford.” He said.

“I know I did. I just need you to know that. I never meant for any of this to happen. I had no idea what Bill was really like. I still haven't wrapped my head around it.” 

“Well maybe ya shoulda told me ‘bout him sooner.” Fiddleford sighed. “But then again, ya wouldn't a listened ta me then, either.”

“Or maybe you would have erased that memory.” Ford replied, immediately regretting it as Fiddleford finally turned towards him. 

Ford expected to see anger on his face, and wouldn't have blamed him if he did, but all that he saw was sadness. 

“That's prolly true.” Fiddleford said quietly. “I don't know how to deal with any a this, and honestly I'd like to erase it all right now and never turn back, but I have a son, Stanford. A son that will die with the rest of our dimension if we don’ do somethin’.” 

“Your son…” Ford replied quietly. “I was so caught up in all of this I forgot all about him.” 

“Yeah, well I didn't. I never did. Even when I left him behind to help you.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “I ain't innocent in all this, Ford.”

“Maybe not innocent, but I'm the one who believed Bill and caused this.” Ford noted

“And I coulda said no from the beginning, but I couldn't bring myself ta do it… I left my son behind second ya called me.”

“You planned on going back in barely a month, Fidds. You can't blame yourself for that.”

Fiddleford looked back at the wall across from him before replying. “I didn't come to Gravity Falls to be part a history or whatever yer always sayin’. I came to Gravity Falls because ya asked me to, Stanford.”

Ford frowned at him in question and Fiddleford glanced back over at him.

“Fer bein’ so smart, ya sure are dumb.” Fiddleford said, huffing out a laugh. “I came when ya called ‘cuz I love you, Ford. I've loved you since ya burst into our dorm room talkin’ bout math. I tried to move on and started a family ‘cus I thought I'd never hear from you again.”

Ford floundered for a second before answering. “Fidds, I'm so sorry. You must know how I lov-”

“No.” Fiddleford said, cutting him off. “Don't go sayin’ that ta me jus’ ta make me feel better. Even in college I knew yer work would always be more important to ya than me. Maybe if I had focused on my own work instead a you we wouldn't be here.” 

“You know how much I care about you, Fiddleford. Can't I love you and my research? You love me and you love your wife! Why can't a man love two things?” 

“That ain't the same. I love my wife, but not in the way I love you. The way I love you is destructive, Stanford.” 

“It doesn't have to be!” Ford practically yelled, then caught himself and lowered his voice. “Maybe destructive is what we need. I know we wouldn't be here if I had listened to you in the first place. Maybe you don't want to hear it right now, but I do love you, Fiddleford, and I'm finally ready to listen. I need you. You keep me grounded.”

Fiddleford looked at him in silence for a moment before responding. “Maybe destructive is what we need. Jus’ promise me ya ain't gonna keep more secrets from me, and I'll do the same.”

“I promise.” Ford said, then leaned in and kissed him.

“Fucking finally!” Stan said, making Ford and Fiddleford tore away from each other and look over at him. 

“I was about to knock your heads together if you didn't get over yourselves.” Stan continued, ignoring their obvious embarrassment. “Watching you two pine over each other was more painful than getting my leg cut off.”

“Stanley! I thought you were asleep!” Ford said.

“And miss all that drama? Fuck no. I'm a light sleeper. Nerd arguments wake me up.”

“I don’ know if I'd call that a ‘nerd argument’.” Fiddleford noted. 

“Well it was!” Stanley responded. “We get it. We all fucked up. We're two amputees and the stupidest genius in the galaxy hiding from god-like geometric shape in a rock floating in space! But believe me, as someone who is close personal friends with rock bottom, it could definitely be worse. At least we all fell into the portal! Imagine if it was just you two! I wouldn't have a damn clue how to bring you back. The only way to beat a three-sided triangle is by being a functioning trio. That's math!”

“That was surprisingly inspiring.” Ford responded. 

“I'm inspiring as fuck!” Stanley said defensively. “The point is I'm happy you two nerd-idiots finally got your shit together. Now I can focus on interdimensional babes instead of trying to steal Fiddleford from under you, Ford!”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in response.

“Prolly for the best, it was startin’ to work on me.” Fiddleford said thoughtfully. 

“It what?!” Ford asked, nonplussed. 

“I told ya he was charmin’, didn't I? Yer lucky I've loved you so much longer, Stanford.” Fiddleford said with a laugh as Ford glared at Stan. “Speakin’ of you bein’ charmin’, take this.” Fiddleford continued, handing Stan a watch-like gadget. “It's a translator. I'm thinkin’ you'll be the best at talkin’ to different people until I can get the supplies, and an arm, ta make two more.”

“Well it ain't a Rolex, but it'll have to do.” Stan said, putting it on his wrist. “But you two should actually get some sleep. We don't know when we'll be able to next. Just no fucking where I can hear it.” 

“Goddammit, Stanley. Maybe you shouldn't be the one with the translator.” Ford said as Stan laughed. 

“I think that's ‘xactly why he needs it. Quick thinkin’ to come up with those terrible jokes.” Fiddleford laughed. “But he's also right, we should be gettin' some sleep. We got a long journey ahead.”

________________________

I try to make Fiddleford's accent more dramatic when he's stressed, but I'm not sure if that translates well? Whatever.

Next will be a comic, which may take me a bit of time to finish because I started my new job and it's like an hour and a half commute one way. So I spend 3 hours of my day driving, and 8.5 hours at work. Which means I am home not often. 🤷🏻

[macabr3-barbi3]

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 8)

slowly but surely we're getting there!!! Two more chapters of this leading up to the events in Heart Reset, and then we'll be moving on to Memory vs Time which is all told from Kora's POV 👀 as always a heartfelt and adoring thank you to @fraugwinska for her love and support, and for the major assistance with like 90% of the dialogue at the end of the chapter from everyone's favorite deer ❤️

you can see the playlist I made for this fic and series here! (also if you want to know the song that set the Vibe™️for this chapter, check out I Saw You In a Dream by The Japanese House 💗)

Caught in a haze of depression, Vincent does some irreparable damage- and meets a new acquaintance.

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7 📺 Chapter 8

March-October 1961

Time passes in a daze for Vincent once Kora is gone.

He spends a couple of weeks looking for her- how could he not? But he could only go so far with his limited time, his search mainly confined to right around Imp City. When he wasn’t searching for her he was working, usually just catching a couple hours of sleep at the studio after his segment before heading off again. He asked, but the network wouldn’t let him post anything on the news about her being missing, and he got the same answer from the newspapers- “It’s nothing personal,” Rich had told him during their short overlap between shifts. “But people go missing in Hell all the time- if they let you broadcast something they’d have to let every Sinner schmuck out there in, and that’s just bad for business.” At Vincent’s anguished face, Rich had given him a sympathetic pat on the back. “I hope she comes home, Vinnie,” he said, and then he was off for makeup and leaving Vincent to stew in his thoughts.

The days he came back to the apartment he had always expected to see her there waiting for him- her eyes full of tears, lips quivering as she told him that she was sorry, that something terrible had happened and she had been trying to get back to him. He thought he would hold her as close to him as he could get, breathe in the familiar scent of her- the one that was fading too quickly from their apartment- and tell her that it was okay, everything would be fine now, and that he would never let anything bad happen to her again. He would slide the ring that he still carried in his pocket onto her finger and tell her that he loved her, and she would cry for a better reason.

He had continued to check into Viv’s for three months after she left, until Eris caught him chain smoking outside after her shift one day and laid into him.

 “Would ya stop your damn mopin’ already?” She had snapped, sidling up to stand beside him with a hand on his arm. “She’s fuckin’ gone. Get over it.”

“Fuck you, Eris,” he had told her, and when she laughed in his face he thought about shoving her into the wall of the diner. “She wouldn’t just fucking leave-”

“Wouldn’t she, though?” Eris’ thin eyebrows quirked up, a mean sneer to her beak. “Ya know how many times she came into work complainin’ that ya were never around? Always so focused on your work that ya were neglectin’ her- seems everyone around here knew it but you.” She slides her hand down and snags a cigarette from his blazer pocket. Slipping it into her beak, she lights up and takes a deep drag. “Dontcha think if something horrible happened to her that it would be all over that news channel of yours? Listen, Vin, I’m gonna do ya a favor here. If Kora wanted to be with you? She would be.” Smoke curls around her head like some sick caricature of a halo, twirling around her top feathers before dissipating. “You’re gonna make yourself look stupid if ya keep looking for her when she clearly doesn’t want to be found. Let her go.” She stubs her cigarette out on the casing of Vincent’s screen and leaves, her words ringing in his head as he slumped against the wall, out of sight of the windows. 

Was she right? He had spent all of this time looking for Kora working under the assumption that something had happened to her, that she had been taken from him. But as much as he hated to admit it, it was possible- that she had simply had enough and left in such a hurry that she had left everything from her life with him behind. Their argument before he had gone to work that day haunted his dreams; sometimes her face hardened and then cracked like porcelain when he yelled at her, Kora’s entire being crumbling in front of him while he tried to hold her together. It was never enough, and before he woke, shaking and sweating every time, he would watch what was left of her slip through his fingers like sand.

Vincent had told her to leave if she didn’t like who he was, what he was, and now she was gone.

He was still fighting to accept it come July, the heat of Hell unbearable as he sweated through his shirt searching a new area of the ring around Imp City. Then he thought he had seen her- a flash of golden fur that snaked by him in a crowd, too fast for him to process until she was a few feet away. He had stopped dead, the people walking around him swearing as they continued to shove past him while he watched her walk away and get lost in the masses.

He called her name, loud over the heads of the crowd, and she didn’t look back- not even a flick of her ear to indicate that she had heard him over the din, the bustle of the crowd as it weaved around him like an ocean buoy. He thought about following her- grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back to him, clutching her to his chest so he could apologize for the fight, for everything that he had done wrong.

But as he watched the woman walk away he realized that Eris was right- if she wanted to be with him she would be. Kora would have come home if there was anything left of their relationship to salvage- that she hadn’t, that she was ignoring Vincent now, spoke to the truth of the bird’s words. He couldn’t chase her; if it was her and he caught her, what then? Force her to stay with him, to explain herself? If he had been wrong all this time, if something hadn’t happened to take her from him- could he live with her telling him to his face that she did this intentionally?

If she had chosen to leave him, his first fear all those years ago, that loving him would hurt her, had come true.

He walked back to the apartment in a stupor, feeling a strange glitch crackle across his face as he wrestled with his emotions; it was something he couldn’t predict or change, a visual loss of control over himself. He felt it like a tingling numbness that spread over his screen, like when he cried too hard as a child and his eyes ached and burned. The loss of Kora, the potential of betrayal; the guilt, knowing that it was all his fault. He at least had the courtesy to lock the door when he left after gathering his few items in their home- so much of it had been hers; the furniture, the books, the bed. If she ever came back here, would she even notice that he was gone? How had he lived here for years without leaving any mark of his own? How had he left himself be so completely taken with her that he didn’t feel like his own person anymore?

Vincent would have to start over- a new home, a new routine.  A new life that didn’t include his Golden Girl. He didn’t even know if he could cry if he wanted to; would the biology he was created with in Hell allow him to show emotion like that anymore? Maybe that was where it had all gone wrong- not with Kora, with their relationship, his inability to tell her that he loved her. But the fact that he was now effectively a machine- he hadn’t had time since arriving in Hell to take a closer look at his anatomy, to know where organic material started and the mechanical began. 

Maybe this had been bound to happen from the start.

To no one’s surprise, Vincent worked even harder. He caved after sleeping on a break room couch for a couple of days and found a small apartment closer to the news station- roughly the same level of shittiness, so that at least felt familiar even without Kora’s items, her intoxicating scent, the ghost of her laughter. Every night he laid flat on his back in a bed that was too big for one person, with no one to miss him when he came home late, no soft press of lips to his screen when she got up in the mornings with a whispered endearment. He had taken those things for granted- had assumed that since he had them then he always would, and now she was gone and he hadn’t ever had to live in Hell without her.

He goes to work, smiles for the cameras, banters with Joy for the masses of the Pride Rings, and he misses her.

He joins Rich on nights out with the rest of the crew when he can, hiding the hole inside himself by filling it with good food and alcohol and the beaming praises of the people around him. They had learned not to mention the Golden Retriever that they had met at Spite, Rich having smacked more than a few people upside the head in reprimand when they tried. Joy was happier, which was fucking annoying, but she had also learned her lesson about trying to get a dig in about dogs- about Kora- when Vincent had accidentally shocked her with a handshake live on air- her fur had gone staticky and wild, and she had needed to take a ten minute leave to let the hair and makeup team get it under control again.

She would have thought that was hilarious. He hates that he knows that, that he’ll likely spend the rest of his days knowing when she would like something, when she would hate it, when she would laugh or cry or bite her lip at something he had said. Kora’s memory haunts him, pieces of her always just on the peripherals of his mind, just out of sight, out of touch. He thinks he sees her sometimes on the streets when he goes for his now daily walks, but it’s never her; it’s never actually his Golden Girl.

The hurt never fades. It clings to him in everything that he does, every move that he makes. If it weren’t for his memories he would almost think she had never been part of his life at all, if not for how she had changed him. He sometimes thinks about going back to the apartment in Imp City and grabbing one of her old t-shirts- the one that says ‘fuck’ is his favorite- just so he has something physical to remind himself that she was real. So he can cling to that time of his life a little longer. He doesn’t allow himself to go back, to even go near that part of town, or to the diner, or the skating rink.

Rich watches him too closely sometimes, a downturn to his lips when he sees Vincent smiling, laughing with the others, like he knows it's a lie. And Vincent doesn’t like to be so closely observed, but he deals with it because they don’t have much overlap in their schedules most of the time now that they’ve settled into their routines.

He starts drinking- heading out to bars or bringing bottles of whiskey back to his apartment to drown his sorrows, like letting himself be liquor-logged would bring Kora back, make everything better. He doesn’t like it, makes him feel too much like his father, but a salve on a wound is still a salve no matter if it opens up other, deeper hurts. 

Vincent exists in a perpetual cycle of work-drink-sleep-shower-work. And sure, sometimes the lines between those activities bleed a little into one another and he’ll wake up with bourbon spilled across his shirt, where he fell asleep in his chair holding the bottle; he’ll come into work with his clothes damp because he didn’t take the time to dry off after his shower, and the hair and makeup team always looks at him disapprovingly. He manages to keep the drinking confined to home and the bars until the day he doesn’t, and he slips through the back door of the studio with a flask tucked into his suit jacket to sneak a sip of it every here and there while he prepares for his segment on a Saturday evening.

Rich is there for whatever reason, probably hanging around or having come back so he could give Vincent that judging look before he went on air, like he knew the man was self-destructing and actually cared. But he didn’t really- Kora had cared, and she had still left him, and where was she now without him? Where was he without her? Who was left to give a shit what happened to him with her gone?

He redirects to a nearby office, blissfully empty, and tries to get a hold on himself. He can fill the phantom of static that crashes across his screen like a blizzard, white and fuzzy like he’s lost signal somehow, and he grabs his casing with one hand like he was tearing his hair out- if he still had any- and reaches the other into his jacket. He’s distantly aware of the door opening behind him as he tips his head back and just drinks as much as he can hold, his throat still human enough for it to burn going down and settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

There’s a hand on his shoulder then, comforting and heavy, and Vincent turns to meet Rich’s eye, the frown below it sad and pitying. “Oh, Vinnie,” he says softly, and Vincent wishes there was a second Hell that could swallow him whole so he could just stop having to be here with that look directed at him. “You can’t go on air like this, son,” he says gently, and reaches out to take the flask from Vincent’s clawed hand. He offers no resistance, letting his grip go limp while Rich sets the flask down on the deks- Rich’s desk, he realizes, and curses himself for his stupidity.

“I’m fine, Rich,” he tries, but his words slur and slide into one another as he speaks. “I can do it, I’m just-”

“You’re just drunk,” the cyclops interrupts. “And I understand you’ve been having a hard time since Kora left, but this isn’t good for you, and it's not the kind of image we want for the station either.” He turns Vincent towards him, hand on his other shoulder, and gently guides him to sit in the chair behind him. “You can sleep it off in here and we’ll talk afterwards- I’ll cover your segment with Joy.”

“No- Rich, man, I can do it, you don’t have to-”

“You can’t go out there,” Rich says sternly, and when he steps back Vincent feels that telltale crackle across his screen, static that betrays his inner turmoil as everything crashes around him. He would be written up for this- he could be fired for this. He watches as if through a fogged window as Rich starts rifling through the Rolodex on the desk, probably looking for an executive, someone on the production team. His career would be over, everything that he had worked for would be taken from him, and it would be like Kora had never dragged him from that junkyard the day that he fell- without her, without his work, without any sort of lifeline. Broken and battered at the mercy of some sick cosmic creator who had let him claw his way to the top only to now send him tumbling back down.

He stumbles out of the chair and into the desk, his knees cracking against the floor with a distant ache that has nothing on the horrid, deep thudding of his heart. “Come on, Rich,” he said, and tries to push himself to standing- he hadn’t realized how weak his legs were, how unstable he was on his feet. ”Don’t do this, please- I-I’ll get my shit together, I swear. I’m okay to go on.”

Rich’s pupil swings up to meet his gaze. “This is bad, Vin,” he says, still rifling through the cards before him before stopping and looking closely at one of them.“I can probably pull some strings to keep you from getting fired, but you can’t be on air like you are now.” He presses a button on the phone before him, which rings for a moment before Rich’s favorite PA answers. “Phineas? Yeah, it’s me- listen, let the team know that we’re gonna have a change to the line up tonight, Vincent needs some time off- see if they can convince Shelby to not be a raging cunt for one day so someone can work with her tomorrow so I can be on tonight-”

“No!”

He’s not sure where it comes from, the sudden, desperate anger that bursts from him with a shower of sparks from the lights above as they all blow at once. His hand shoots out to twist in Rich’s tie, claws ripping through the fabric as he uses it as leverage to pull himself up. “Stop fucking talking,” he snarls, and he registers a fleeting, terrifying moment of fear in Rich’s expression before he goes almost absent. His eye loses its spark, his mouth drops open as if in shock, and the phone clatters to the desk with Phineas’s voice faintly speaking as Rich focuses all of his attention on Vincent.

It’s dark in the office now, the only light coming from his screen, the light casting a strange, frightening shadow over Rich’s eye. “Just… hold on a minute,” he tries again, clearing his throat and releasing his tie. “Hang up the phone, please.”

Rich moves like he’s on autopilot, reaching over and placing the phone back on the receiver without looking away from Vincent. The movement is a little unsettling, even before considering that Rich doesn’t blink, and Vincent reaches out and snaps his fingers. “Rich, come on. I’m sorry, that was- fuck, what’s wrong with you? Say something.”

“Something,” Rich says with no hesitation, and it’s weird but he’s not reaching for the phone again and he doesn’t try to stop Vincent when he turns away to leave.

He catches sight of himself in the glass of the office door- his left eye, the one that Kora hadn’t been able to fully fix all those years ago, swirled like a vortex, slow black spirals that spun counterclockwise and made him dizzy. He shook his head to try and dispel it, and when that didn’t work he slammed his fist through the glass to get rid of the sight and took off towards set.

His hand was bleeding- he felt the steady, warm drip of it as he walked quickly towards the main studio, leaving a trail that security was sure to be able to follow, but they wouldn’t drag him off set if he was already live on air. A glance at his watch confirmed that he had about 4 minutes before they would start shooting, which gave him plenty of time to get there, get situated with Joy, and fake being sober enough to get through a couple of news stories before the first commercial break.

He hears someone call something behind him and increases his speed, desperate to get to the studio before anyone could stop him. He would show them- that he was still reliable, that they were better having him here even if he was a little out of it right now. This was where he belonged, what he was made for.

Vincent comes through the doors to the studio and is met with at least three security guards taking him to the floor- he hears his screen crack before he feels it, a piercing, sharp pain that shoots down the edge of his face when he connects with the floor, an elbow to the gut, a blunt knee to his shin. Joy watches from the desk behind the cameras, and he sees one of the screening televisions flash the rainbow error page before a message came up indicating that Nine Rings News would be back after solving some technical difficulties.

“Let me go,” he groans, and his throat is thick and sore, something lurking there that made it hard to speak- like a lump that one could choke on right before tears came. “I can go on, let go-”

“Here’s the real entertainment of the night,” Joy quips, standing to come closer and more fully watch what was happening as the security guards held him down. “Shame we’re not live-”

“You’re not fucking helping, Joy,” he hears Rich snap, and when he looks over to the doors Rich is leaning against the frame, looking so goddamn betrayed that Vincent has to close his eyes against it. His left eye still feels weird, and he thinks about the way that Rich had simply listened to him when he took the lights out in his anger, like he was mindless with it, and he wishes they would all just listen to him like that so he could do what he needed to do.

He opens his eyes and tries to put some force into it- more intent, more power, and nearly screams, “let me go-”

And they do. All three guards, watching his face while they held his limbs, dropping into immediate compliance as Rich shouted behind them all. Vincent climbed to his feet, dusting his suit off before turning to look at his mentor again. “I can go on,” he insists, and Rich’s mouth is agape in horror.

“Vinnie, what have you done?” He asks, and when Vincent looks he sees the entire production team caught with that same dead gaze that Rich had adopted, that the three guards had now. Joy had trained a camera on him for her own amusement, wanted his downfall televised to the entire company, and now her own expression was vacant behind the lens; the whole scene had been broadcast to the room from one of the test screens.

“I’m- I don’t know,” he says truthfully, and tries to take a step closer to Rich. “You gotta believe me, I’m just trying to-”

Rich leans more heavily into the door, looking away from Vincent and his still spinning eye. “I don’t even know what the execs will do about this,” he says incredulously. “You just- how long will this last?”

“I’ve never done it before.” He looks out across the group, clipboards held loosely in limp arms, eyes still trained on the large test screen above them. “Except you. I don’t know what to do, Rich, I don’t know what this is. I’m sorry- I know they’re probably going to fire me-”

“Fire you? Satan, Vincent, you’ll be lucky if they don’t kill you. Do you know how much money it will cost us being down for even one segment, let alone however many pass until this fucking- whatever you did, until it wears off?” He gestures around the room incredulously. “I could have pulled some strings for coming into work shitfaced- I can’t do anything about this, son.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” He grips the sides of his head and looks around the room again, wondering how he had done this without even really being aware of it. He was so fucked- he would be escorted from the building at the very least, he was definitely going to lose his job after he had already lost Kora with no hope of ever knowing where she had gone or if she was ever coming back-

He catches sight of one of the cameras still pointed at the desk that he and Joy shared, the one that would normally be broadcasting right now if not for the technical error message they were displaying. There were televisions everywhere- he’d never had a chance of finding her on his own, but a message sent out across all nine rings of Pride might do the trick. Rich said they didn’t do that sort of thing, but if he was losing his job anyway what did he have to lose breaking that rule now?

He glances at Rich for a moment, ignoring the call of his name as he approached the camera. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” he says, genuine in his regret at causing this mess for him once Vincent was gone.

“Vincent, come on,” he tries, but Vincent is already reaching for the cords plugged into the back of the camera.

Claws dig into the ports there and spark with electricity. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing exactly, but he can see the way the wires light up with power that zips down them before it disappears into the walls and the rest of the equipment in the room, everything pulsing with little bursts of energy. Like the office earlier, the lights overhead sizzle and explode with sparks, stage lights behind them catching fire at the sudden overcharge coming from somewhere inside him. He could see himself in one of the test screens, the spinning of his eye having died down but his expression is raw and the glass in his screen is webbed from hitting the floor- when he brings his hand up to trace the crack in his screen, the blood from the glass of the office door still drips down his wrist.

He looks straight into the lens. “Kora, baby,” he starts, and he hopes that despite the temporary shut down of their recording equipment that the microphones would still pick up his words. “If you’re out there, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry; please come home and we can talk. I need to know you’re okay, I know- I know I fucked up, Goldie, I know it.”

He can see people moving behind the camera when he glances up- like Rich, the trance he had put them in didn’t last very long, and there were frantic whispers growing in volume as he spoke, the wires coming on and off the set still flowing with bright white arcs of electricity.

“I’ll make it better, okay? I promise. Just- please come home, baby, I need you. I can’t fucking do this without you.”

He has more to say, so much more to tell her while he has the moment, but whatever power he was drawing on to take control of the camera seemed to have overloaded itself. He feels a jolt pass through his arm and straight through his claws, and in a moment the entire building blinks with a flare of the few lights that hadn’t yet blown before everything goes dark.

He looks over to Rich, still standing in the doorway, illuminated by Vincent’s screen, and he disengages his claws and runs, ignoring the calls of his name behind him.

Rich’s disappointed look is burned into Vincent’s mind as he runs home, opening the door of his apartment to a sight that made his chest ache. Bare, depressing, Kora-absent. There was no trace of her here, and this wasn’t his home; it couldn’t be without her. He should have stayed at their old place- if she had come home and he wasn’t there, he would never forgive himself. Even with her not there, it was better than this poor approximation of normalcy that he had had in this new place. And if she heard his message, heard him telling her to come home when he wasn’t even waiting for her? He needed to get back there- he shouldn’t have ever left.  

He doesn’t have anything to take with him when he goes- his clothing could be replaced. He would borrow a shirt from her like he had that first night, and they could just start over together. Forget the last few months, the last few years of him failing her, and start anew with his ring on her finger. He reaches into his pocket to touch it now, the only thing he hadn’t yet lost; the promise he had intended to make to her, even if he had to work on making his mistakes up to her for the rest of his afterlife.

It’s raining as he wanders towards Imp City, and the storm must have caused some sort of outage because the streets are black and dark as he goes, the only real light coming from him. He huddles under awnings and balconies when he can to avoid any serious damage to his equipment- his face already aches from the crack in his screen, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if acid rain got into it. Closer to Imp City, the further he gets from the center of the top Pride ring, power seems to have been restored. He steps under an awning outside an electronics store, and what he sees on the televisions in the window makes him freeze.

His face- cracked screen and all, his mouth moving frantically with his message to Kora. Not just on the station for Nine Rings News, but on all of them; logos for different channels sit in the corner of the screens, but the video that plays is the same. He hadn’t meant to do that- he just wanted to broadcast from his studio, but he figured this at least meant that there was a better chance of Kora having seen it.

Vincent lets himself hope when he approaches their old apartment from down the street. There’s a light on in the living room, a glow that emanates from the section of window under the short curtain next to the fridge. And he sees something chained to the streetlight outside where Kora usually kept her bike locked up. His heart swells, reluctant hope beating at him from inside his chest-

Only to wither and die when he comes closer and sees that it isn’t her bike, the soft blue one with the little basket on the handlebars for her packages that she carried as a courier. It’s red, beat up and ancient, nowhere near as nice as Kora kept hers. And when he looks to the door of their apartment, the little wreath that she liked to hang up was missing- he comes closer and sees that her name is missing from the mailbox as well, and there’s no welcome mat on the porch.

He can’t hear anything from inside, but the flickering from the movement of the television still beams out from the windows. He doesn’t bother leaning over the railing to try and look inside, or knocking on the door; if it wasn’t Kora, like he suspected now that it wasn’t, the person living here probably wouldn’t react well to the man that had commandeered every fucking TV channel in the Pride Ring showing up on their doorstep. And if Kora wasn’t here, she might as well be nowhere- he would never find her.

He sits on the front step and holds his head in his hands and aches and aches and aches. 

It was all over now. He had ruined his career, he had lost Kora, he had nothing but a shitty little apartment near the station that people would know to look for him at. He can almost see the way his life had unraveled over the past months, starting with Dante’s and his inability to tell the woman that he loved how he fucking felt about her. Rich would never forgive him for the betrayal after all that he had done for Vincent, and without Kora-

“Well now! Isn’t this quite the sight?”

When Vincent looks up, he sees him; tall, menacing, red. Teeth sharp like razors within his mouth, his smile almost impossibly wide as he stared down at the television from beneath a black, spindly umbrella. His ears are fluffy and stick upright from his head, the same shade of red as the hair that curls in a bob around his face. Vincent thinks he might recognize him from somewhere, some paper he’s seen floating around that he never paid too much attention to. He doesn’t bother responding- if he was going to get his ass kicked he would go down without a fight. He was too exhausted for that, too beaten down with everything that had happened this evening, this month, this year. “It’s quite rude to stare,” the man says when Vincent stays quiet, and his voice has a static overlay to it that makes something in Vincent’s head crackle. “I’m sure you get a lot of it on your end with your… situation,” he adds with a gesture towards Vincent’s head, “but the rest of polite society doesn’t appreciate it so much!”

“Can I help you with something?” Vincent asks blankly, and watches as his smile- somehow- gets even wider. “If you’re looking for a fight, buddy, you’re in for a disappointment.”

He laughs, high and bright. “Oh, Heavens no! I’m not in the habit of punching down, as it were- you’re looking quite pathetic all on your own.” He comes closer and Vincent stays seated on the steps of his old apartment, his ass wet from the rain, feeling just as pathetic as the man had called him. “This is quite the change from the interesting display I happened to see on my stroll earlier- vibrating with energy and electricity and taking over an entire news station connection through sheer force of will- taking over all of the television circuit, actually! I find myself torn between reluctant admiration for the show of power, and amusement at how thoroughly desperate you sounded.”

Anger sparks within him- and out of him, the antennae on his head crackling with a buzz that reaches in an arc towards the other Sinner, catching the end of his umbrella with a snap that lights the fabric on fire before the rain extinguishes it. 

He twirls the umbrella, tilting it down a bit to inspect the smoking hole. “How fun! I suppose there is still some fight left in you after all- how shocking,” he adds with a wink, and the pun lifts something heavy off Vincent’s chest. It was dumb- but it was so Kora that it eased the flash of anger inside of him for a moment. He hadn’t heard one of her shitty jokes in so long, seen one of her coffee mugs or t-shirts. She was such a fan of bad puns and wordplay, something that few people at the station seemed to appreciate the way that he did. He wondered if the Sinner living in the building behind him now had kept all of her mugs, if any of her clothing had still been in the drawers when they moved in.

“Have you lost signal?”

He’s pulled from his thoughts when the man speaks again, close enough now to look fully down on Vincent with that strange smile on his face- he has a staff in his spare hand that he’s tapped gently against Vincent’s screen, making the crack in his glass radiate with pain. “I was never one for televisions in my time,” he carries on jovially. “I find radio to be a much more engaging medium, you know- though I can admit that having the visual of your funny little face really added to the experience. Such entertainment!”

“Yeah, televised breakdowns are my forte,” Vincent says sarcastically. “Did you have a reason for approaching me or are you just here to rub my failures in my face?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see what follows such a thorough frying of one’s career! And I admit, I do wonder if that charming little display of power has a sequel- or if it was a one time premiere?” He bends at the waist, gets right down into Vincent’s face with that eerie smile never breaking. “I might have some use for such a thing every once in a while, granted that there’s never a repeat performance of your little breakdown. I have little tolerance for outbursts, whether electrical or emotional.”

“I don’t- what?”

“I am asking, you obtuse picture box, if you could do that again.” His eyes flicker to dials, harsh feedback whining through the air as he continues to stare at Vincent like he’s seeing into his soul. Darkness spreads at his feet, sweeping the street into shadow; inky tentacles spill from his back and reach towards Vincent menacingly. “You may be geared towards reruns but I loathe them- as well as repeating myself.”

He can’t even see the streetlights anymore, the black surrounding them so dense that no light could penetrate it- the faint glow from behind him from the apartment was even dimmed from the force of it, and he realizes with startling clarity that this person, whoever they were, was powerful. Dangerous. It would be best not to get on his bad side- and if he could be useful somehow then anything was better than the idea of having to wallow around in his own self loathing and try to figure out what to do next. Being useful could give him purpose now that he had no girlfriend, no career, no path. “Shit, yeah! Yeah, I could do it again. Probably.” 

He had no idea if he could, but he was almost positive that it wasn’t a one time thing. It couldn’t be, if it meant this strange man was intrigued by him; he would figure out how to do it again.

“Splendid!” The darkness dies as quickly as it had come, shrinking back into a tiny pool at the man’s feet before he thrusts a hand out- long, spindly, tipped with claws that looked nearly as sharp as his teeth. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Vincent eyes his hand warily, all too familiar with the shady dealings of some of the more known souls in Hell. “This isn’t a deal, right?” He asks suspiciously, and the laugh that answers his question doesn’t really help to ease his frazzled nerves. “Just an invitation to join you for a bit? I don’t even know your name, I’m not trying to sell my soul.”

“Ha! How charming- no, this is not a deal, silly man.” His smile turns even sharper for a moment before he continues, “merely an introduction between… oh, let’s say acquaintances. Believe me, you would know if I was after your soul.”

Despite the rules of this place, Vincent trusts him. So he reaches up and takes the offered hand, relieved when there’s no swirl of magic or heavy chain clicking into place around his wrist or throat. The man’s grin never falters- and if he’s honest, it's starting to get a bit creepy, but he was too far into it now as the other demon pulls him to standing, shaking his hand vigorously. “The name is Alastor, and it is a pleasure to be meeting you- quite the pleasure!”

“Vincent,” he replies, his arm starting to ache with the force that he was being shaken with. “Back atcha. So, what exactly does being ‘acquaintances’ mean? Where do we go from here?” Alastor finally releases him, and Vincent feels something like static clinging to him- if he were to reach out and touch the other man, he’s sure he would shock him. 

Another memory hits him, Kora in one of her oversized t-shirts and a pair of socks, dragging her feet across the carpeted floor to charge up and try to shock him with static- his grip on the phone at the time when she succeeded had caused their power to go out, the upstairs neigbors banging on the floor and yelling while the pair of them had giggled to themselves, Kora’s hair floating in a charged halo around her beaming face.

Alastor’s voice pulls him from the golden-tinged reminiscence. “Where else is there to go on a Saturday night? Out, of course! Come along, my funny little fellow-  there’s plans to discuss and fun to be had! I know this lovely little spot up towards Cannibal Town, a classy bar for business conversation…” He does a little spin on his heel and his voice fades when he starts to walk away, twirling his cane as he does so, and the shadow at his feet swirls in tandem before it grows an eerie, wide grin like the one Alastor wore on his own face and vanishing.

Vincent halts before following, looking back at the apartment he had shared with Kora. It still hurts, a deep hole in his chest when he thinks about her. But she wasn’t here anymore- wherever she was, it wasn’t with him, and that was what he needed to focus now if he wanted to walk away. He couldn’t come back here again- he wouldn’t. He needed to move forward from all of the things that he had fucked up lately. If following this strange demon to a bar up in Pentagram City was the easiest way to get over his failed love, his fucked up career, he would do it.

“An important thing you should know about me,” Alastor calls to him from across the street, “is that I do not like to be kept waiting.” Laughter springs forth from his staff, canned and generic like they sometimes used down at the station. Despite the vague threat to his words, he doesn’t seem in any rush to make Vincent join him- in fact, he looks down fondly at the microphone in his hand, almost contemplative when he asks, “are you joining me or not?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m coming,” he says, and he spares one last look at his old home before he jogs across the street to meet Alastor, following a couple steps behind as the other demon walked and talked to the amusement of his captive audience, occasional laughter echoing from his staff out into the streets and drowning out anything Vincent might have contributed to the conversation- he never even looked back to see if Vincent was following.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

hi i hope your doing amazing !!! could i request one with pedri were the reader has a stutter and he helps her go through a day we’re she can barley talk without stuttering? i have a stutter and it’s pretty hard sometimes and it would mean a lot if u could do it but if not that’s totally okay !! stay hydrated and healthy physically and mentally!!!<3

Hi dear! Hope everything's going well with you too, hope you like this, pls let me know✨

Stutter Problems -P.G8

Summary: When your stutter gets too much, your boyfriend is there for you.

You remember when you met Pedro and his brother when they came into your family's bakery, slowly they made themselves loyal customers and eventually you developed a friendship with both González brothers.

You couldn't believe it when the youngest of the two brothers asked you out in a date, you thought it was a friendly date but eventually got surprised when he confessed his liking towards you.

And it was shocking to you... He could have millions of girls, pretty girls; maybe prettier than what you could ever be, more confident, with money, with the greatest body ever and mostly girls who didn't have the same little problem as you did. Stutter.

But he didn't gave up, you liked him too and eventually you gave in into him pushing your fear aside.

In the first months of dating him you were expecting in any moment an outburst from him saying how he couldn't handle your stutter and leave you like you pasts boyfriends have done.

None of that happened, in fact, it was quite the opposite. He helped you with it.

It wasn't that bad, you could say 20 words and only stutter in 2 of them and mostly since you have been taking care of it since little with the help of your family and now your boyfriend and his family but when you got nervous, stressed out or angry, your stuttering intensified.

But today, wasn't at your side. Ever since you woke up and struggled with a little "Good morning" you knew today was going to be awful for you and your problem.

A lot of persons in your class made fun of you but you tried to ignore them, you were glad your three best friends mocked them too and went that ahead to judge their size and mock them for it as they grew embarrassed for it.

You had a presentation and almost made a fool of yourself, thank god, that class understood your problem and they had patience with you.

When you were walking at noon from the bakery to your home a woman asked you for a direction and when you stuttered five times in a row to give the name of the street she smiled at you and left you there with the words on your mouth.

On top of that, when you made it back home, you saw in your phone a professor decided to do a pop quiz and you lost fifteen minutes of it.

You were at the verge of tears when you heard the door being open and you heard your boyfriend's voice.

"Bonita, ya llegué" (I'm home)

"Li-li-li" You sighed "Living ro-room" You covered your face with your hands and soon felt a kiss being given to your temple and one of Pedro's hands on your shoulder rubbing lovingly

"Hola"

"Hola" You said back still covering your face.

You heard his breathing and then you felt his hands pulling yours from your face "What's up?"

"Stuttering is wha-wha-wha-what's up" You groaned at the end of your sentence throwing your head back

"Is today one of those days?" He asked carefully his thumb caressing the back of your hand softly

"I ju-just fe-feel like the wo-world's against me"

"If the world's against you then it's against me too" You smile softly

"Cheesy"

"How was class?"

"A-awful. I stuttered like I've ne-ne-never do-do-done it in my who-whole life"

"You feel stressed?"

"I just hate the-the fa-fact I have thi-this thin-thin- Fuck!" You groan once more letting this time a few tears go down your face, you pulled your hands out of Pedro's hold but he pushed yours down and cleaned your tears.

"Let's calm down, okay? How about I make you some tea? Your favorite, uh? Lemon with honey?" You nodded crying "We can cuddle after that and maybe order some chinese food... It's your favorite and I bet you haven't eaten anything"

"I brought some ca-ca-cachitos from the ba-bakery"

"Gracias bonita, we can also eat them later if you want" You nod "But how do some lumpias with sweet and sour sauce sound?"

"Go-good"

"We can watch some of Moana, I know you like to sing along to You're Welcome" You smile nodding

"It's a really go-good a-and catchy song"

"It is" Pedro smiled "Is this saved?" He pointed to the work on your laptop

"It's done actually" You smiled to yourself

You made the first sentence of the day without stuttering.

"Well, then I guess we can do this" He turned off your laptop and put it to charge "I'll be right back" He left towards the kitchen but you wanted to hold him, so after a few seconds he left, you stood up and went to him.

"¿Me extrañaste?" (missed me?) You hummed hugging yourself to his torso and burying your face into his chest

"Lo siento si estoy siendo muy necia" (Sorry if I'm being too clingy)

"Nunca lo eres, bonita" (You are never)

You waited a few more minutes in silence just enjoying his hold on you as he waited for the water to boil and texted in his phone.

"Hold me this?" He asked giving you his phone and grabbing your mug of tea

"Wha-what do you ne-need to-AH!" He picked you up making your legs go around his waist "¡PEDRO GONZÁLEZ!"

"That's me" He smirked when the doorbell rang, he set you on the couch and gave you the control "Set Moana up, I'll be right back"

"How much food did you asked for?" You asked watching him come back

"I asked three services of lumpia, two for you, one for me and some rice for us" He said shrugging his shoulders

"¡Amor!"

"Tú, tranquila. Let's relax" (You, calm) "Everything for mi niña bonita" You blushed as he got comfortable behind you so you could rest your back on his chest

"Anything I can do to pay for your calm services back?" He smiled

"Love me, take care of me and sing You're welcome at the top of your lungs"

"My stutter-" He cut you off

"We'll sing it and done! Your stuttering only makes me love you more"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[mi-rae07]

can I request a mafia mingi x pregnant s/o angst :3 mingi breaks up with the reader bcs he thought she was a burden with his mafia life but he doesn’t know that she’s pregnant. Hurt me with all the angst you’ve got! but with a happy ending i beg TT

Song Mingi : Chance (Part 1/3)

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Jung Miyeon)

_____________________

Miyeon : doctor, are you sure? There's no other-

Doctor : I'm sure, miss lee. You are three weeks pregnant, with twins.

______________________

Mingi : and? Did you check the bodies properly? There was no trace left behind at all?

Jongho : none, sir. It seems as if they were all killed in one go.

Mingi : then that means there was more than just one assassin.

Jongho nodded, looking at the gruesome pictures that had been laid on mingi's desk. He was just about to say something when the door opened, revealing mingi's mother. Jongho quickly bowed down, mingi letting out a breath as he stood up and said

Mingi : eomma, I'm quite busy-

Jina : I know, I came to talk important matters with you, son.

Mingi : one that cannot be discussed at my house?

Jina : yes.

Mingi nodded and motioned jongho to step out, jongho bowing one last time before leaving the both of them alone. Mingi watched as his mother sat on the seat opposite him, a grim look on her face.

Mingi : what is it?

Jina : your father is very ill, son.

Mingi : I know that.

Jina : no, this is worse than before. Doctors say he has only another two-three more months to live.

Mingi sighed, leaning back against his chair. He was never a fan of his father, given the conditions he was brought up in. but he was still mingi's father.

Mingi : what is his last wish then, eomma.

Jina : he wishes to get you married.

Mingi : he seriously wants me to get married to miyeon-

Jina : no, not her. Another lady, a better one.

Mingi : eomma, what the hell?

Jina : I always told you this wasn't going to last, mingi. I always told you your father would want something in return for handing over this company to you.

Mingi : isn't what he's taken from me already enough?

Jina : apparently not. And son, I've seen miyeon, I've talked to her. She isn't fit for this lifestyle of yours. One day she's gonna want you to leave this field of work and you know that isn't possible. This is our-

Mingi : family line, I know.

Jina sighed, leaning forward as she said

Jina : I know you love her, but you must let her go if you truly care for her, son. You know what your father can do even if he's in the hospital. If you don't let her go, he's going to do it for you. And it will not be in a good way.

Mingi let out a breath, muttering under his breath

Mingi : get out.

Jina nodded, getting up from her seat as she said

Jina : remember what I said, son. Make sure you won't regret your decisions in the future.

Jina turned around and left, leaving a disturbed mingi behind.

__________________________

Miyeon looked up as she heard footsteps coming her way, indicating that mingi was home. She smiled and stood up, keeping her phone away as she opened her arms for mingi. He smiled, keeping his bag away before wrapping his arms around miyeon.

Miyeon : had a bad day at work?

Mingi : mm, something like that. And you?

Miyeon : it went as work always does.

Mingi hummed, nuzzling his head onto her shoulders. Miyeon bit her lip, deciding she should probably ask him what she had meant to.

Miyeon : do you ever think you'll resign your position as a mafia, mingi-ya?

Mingi stiffened in her hold, his eyes now open as he pulled back from the hug with a frown

Mingi : what?

Miyeon : you know, since it's a dangerous line of work, one day when we have children, do you think you'll give up your work and choose to do something less dangerous?

Mingi stared at miyeon as his mother's earlier words rang through his mind

"And son, I've seen miyeon, I've talked to her. She isn't fit for this lifestyle of yours. One day she's gonna want you to leave this field of work and you know that isn't possible"

His mother was right, and miyeon had already started asking.

Mingi : you know I do not really want children, yeon-ah.

Miyeon blinked her eyes, her hands clenching around mingi's shirt. Oh no, she thought.

Miyeon : like…ever?

Mingi : miyeon, what is with you. You've never asked questions like this before, why are you so suddenly interested in children?

Miyeon : no I'm just…asking for future purposes-

Mingi : no, then don't. because there will be no future for us with children. I do not want any.

Before miyeon could say anything mingi walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Miyeon's hands fell to her stomach, caressing it as she shut her eyes tightly.

God, this wasn't going the way she had expected it to.

__________________________

Miyeon stared at mingi as he ate his dinner, not having uttered a single word since he came out of that bathroom. Which was very unlike mingi, who couldn't usually keep himself from talking.

Miyeon : I'm sorry I asked.

Mingi : it doesn't really matter.

Miyeon : but-

Mingi : can we leave that matter behind, miyeon?

Miyeon : why do hate it so much, mingi-

Mingi : because it is my work! It's what my entire family has poured their entire life into and now you want me to leave it?

Miyeon : that's exactly why I want you to leave it, mingi. How many of your people have lost their lives over this work?

Mingi scoffed, putting his chopsticks down as he said

Mingi : I should've known this would happen someday.

Miyeon : what would happen.

Mingi : this! You questioning my life!

Miyeon : I'm not-

Mingi cut her off as he stood up, shaking his head before saying

Mingi : forget about all of this, miyeon. I am not going to leave my work behind for anyone or anything, bottom line.

Mingi turned around and left, leaving a teary-eyed miyeon behind. What the hell was she going to do now?

___________________________

2 weeks later :

Mingi limited his interactions with miyeon after that night. Because the more he thought about what she had told him that night, the more he realized his parents were right. Miyeon wasn't fit for this life of his, and no matter how much it hurt for the both of them, it would be better if they separated. Before it was too late, anyway.

And so mingi realized the best way to do that was to slowly grow more distant to her as days passed. In that way, it would hurt less for her when he said he wanted to break up. She'd probably hate him by then.

Whether this whole thing hurt mingi or not, that he didn't care about anymore. If this was what was best for miyeon, then so be it. She deserved a life with children and a loving husband who wasn't in danger of getting killed every day.

____________________________

2 months later :

Miyeon was now sitting in her living room, the TV playing some show in front of her. Except she wasn't watching, and she didn't have it in her to go for work either. She hadn't said that to mingi, because after all how could she? He left before she was awake and came back after she was asleep. And during the few moments they would meet, he remained cold as ever. And this had been going on for the past 2 months. The more time passed, the more distant mingi grew from her. At this point they almost lived like complete strangers.

And that, miyeon supposed, was because of what she had asked him a few months ago, about leaving his job and starting a family. But if this was how mingi reacted to just mere words and questions, how would he react to the fact that miyeon was actually pregnant with their babies? It would tear mingi apart from her, which was why miyeon had hesitated so much to break the news to her boyfriend.

But now, now she supposed there was no harm in trying. Because anyway, he was distant to her. What if things turned out to be different once she actually told mingi about her pregnancy? And so she decided to tell him.

Miyeon flinched as she heard the door opening, a frown falling on her face. It was only 6pm, who the hell was home now? Miyeon stood up, keeping her bowl of grapes aside before walking towards the entryway. Her eyes widened as she saw mingi, his face turning into that of surprise as well as he stared at her.

Mingi : what are you doing here?

Miyeon : I…took a day off work. And you?

Mingi sighed, keeping his shoes aside before saying

Mingi : well then, let's talk.

Miyeon nodded, realizing it was required. It would be the best time to break her news to mingi. Miyeon was about to say it when mingi suddenly said

Mingi : let's break up.

Miyeon froze, her heart thumping against her chest as she whispered

Miyeon : what?

Mingi : let's go our own ways now, miyeon. I don't want to be with you anymore.

Miyeon : but…why? Did I do something wrong?

Mingi : miyeon-ah, remember when you told me about starting a family?

Miyeon : that-

Mingi : yeah no, I cannot do that. This line of work does not allow me to do any of that. Yes, my ancestors have had a family, and many of their children have been killed in the process. The ones that did survive in the end, took over the company. But I cannot do that to my own children, miyeon. And not to you either. I refuse to sacrifice an innocent life for the sake of all this.

Miyeon stared at mingi, her hands unconsciously going to her belly. Mingi sighed as he continued

Mingi : this is a path I must lead by myself now. You cannot follow me any longer.

Miyeon : but I can adjust, mingi. Our-

Mingi : except I don't want you to adjust, miyeon. I don't want you at all anymore.

Miyeon stepped back from mingi, her eyes hurt.

Mingi : the more as time pass, the more you will turn into a burden for me. And I don’t think either of us want that in our future. So go, go away from me and live a life that you want. A life that will give you happiness.

Miyeon scoffed, looking away as tears filled her eyes.

Miyeon : all that time I spent on you, on us, it meant nothing in the end.

Mingi did not say anything more. And just by looking into his face, miyeon had finally decided.

She was going to do this on her own, she was going to give her babies the world.

And so miyeon looked up at mingi with determined eyes before saying

Miyeon : fine. Then this is the end of us. Goodbye, mingi.

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11 months later :

Miyeon stared at the two beings that were deep asleep in their cribs with a smile on her face, slowly rocking their cribs. It had been a boy and a girl, and miyeon had named them minho and minji. They weren't purely identical, but they had their own similarities. While minho was more like miyeon, minji was more like mingi. Except she wasn't going to tell them about their father.

It was the same father that had abandoned miyeon, so why would she bother telling her children about him? She was a nurse after all, she made enough money to be raising the both of her children very well by herself. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

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4 years later :

Miyeon was now in a park with her brother, minho and minji clearly in their own words, jumping around the trampoline. Miyeon was watching them with a smile on her face, sipping on her chocholate milk. Wooyoung turned to face his sister, his eyes squinted from the sunlight

Wooyoung : how long are you going to hide them from mingi?

Miyeon : as long as it's required, of course.

Wooyoung : and the kids? They're gonna wanna know about their father sometime, yeon-ah.

Miyeon : when they're old enough, I'll tell them the truth. About how he left me before I could even tell him that I was with child. Until then, they're gonna have to believe that their father is somewhere outside this nation and is unable to visit them.

Wooyoung sighed, leaning back against the bench before saying

Wooyoung : so you're gonna work hard like this for your entire life? Without anyone by your side?

Miyeon : well I have you.

Wooyoung whacked his sister's arm, making minho frown at his uncle from afar

Minho : if you hit my eomma once more, I'm going to squash your tiny head.

Miyeon laughed at that, making wooyoung frown in dismay

Wooyoung : yah! Whose head is tinier!

Minho stuck his tongue out at wooyoung, making wooyoung groan as he started to chase minho around the park. Miyeon chuckled as minji jumped out of the trampoline, running towards her mother with a smile on her face before crashing into her arms.

Minji : what's wrong with those two idiots?

Miyeon giggled, smoothening her daughter's hair before whispering

Miyeon : I wonder.

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3 years later :

Miyeon was now walking back home from work, after having decided not to take her car to work today. She was about to take her phone out when she heard heavy breathing somewhere close to her, making her pause on her tracks. Someone was hurt.

Miyeon quickly traced herself to the hurt person, standing in front of an alley a few seconds later. And soon enough she saw the man that was crouched down on the floor, holding his stomach that seemed to have a small stab wound, while letting out soft groans. Miyeon stepped forward and was about to say something when the man suddenly looked up, his face coming into her proper view.

Miyeon : mingi?

Mingi let out a shaky breath, looking away from miyeon as he whispered

Mingi : go away.

Miyeon : you're hurt.

Mingi : as you can see. Now go away, jung miyeon.

Miyeon : and? What, you're going to just let yourself die here?

Mingi : why do you care, miyeon. You're not supposed to-

Miyeon : I care because I am a nurse, there's nothing more to this than that.

Miyeon stepped closer to mingi, bending down and moving his hands away to inspect the wound. Mingi stared at her the entire while, taking her in after so many years.

Miyeon : it seems to be a small wound. Do you mind going to the hospital?

Mingi : I can't, they're going to ask for an explanation. Miyeon-

Miyeon : then we're doing this the old way.

Mingi's eyes widened as miyeon lifted him up with her, dragging him out the alley.

Mingi : what the hell are you doing? What is your husband going to say when he sees you taking me home like this?

Miyeon : lucky for you, I have no husband.

Mingi paused, confusion lacing him. She didn't have anyone? Then the kids he saw in the park with her a few months ago?

Miyeon : I'm going to call a taxi. Make sure you have your coat wrapped around the wound at all times. We cannot let anyone see that you're hurt.

Mingi slowly nodded, his hand still clutched against the wound. Miyeon let out a breath, holding her hand out for a taxi as she whispered under her breath

Miyeon : I can't believe I'm doing this.

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