#letting babies go and really really really hoping that the buyer

[kedreeva]

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FB Lady: Why did my new peachicks that I got from a clean home die so fast? All her birds are fine and she treats to prevent parasites.

Also FB Lady: *posts photos of absolutely disgusting coops with filthy feeders that look to be more poop and bedding than food and waste piled up so high around it that it's spilling into the feeder, as well as chickens in with her peafowl*

Also FB Lady: I quarantined them for 7 days and then put them in with the rest of my birds and they died after one day! This person sold me bad birds!

Me: truly it must be their fault...

[bree-cheesy]

His Favorite Girl

Eddie Munson! x fem!reader

Part 2 Part 3

A/N: I know, it’s been a minute, I’m sorry (not really). Haven’t been super motivated to write so hopefully this redeems me a little. I wanted to write something along the lines of Drug Dealer Eddie and innocent-ish reader being his favorite client. I tried to make it filthy to make up for not giving you guys any fics for a minute so please forgive me! It is a bit short, but I’m not sorry lol. I hope y’all think it’s good!!

Credit to @eddiemunsonsource​ for the gif!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI OR I WILL MELT YOUR FACES. Sort of maybe friends to lovers. Porn with a little plot. (kissing, dirty talk, rough!eddie, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, slight mean Eddie (calls you a slut once), cock drunk reader, choking, rough p in v, bruises formed, (but good ones if you know what I mean) some aftercare), cuddling at the end, language, drug dealing. No use of Y/N. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 1668

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“That’s it, baby…. Just like that, fuck!” Eddie groaned and moaned as your mouth wrapped tight around his cock, sucking him for all he was worth. Lip gloss sliding up and down his shaft. His hand gripping your hair in a tight fist, his head thrown back with his jaw hung open and slack.

---2 hours earlier---

You were Eddie’s favorite buyer. He always gave you a discount and even sometimes gave you it for free. You noticed he’d always give it to you for free if you wore that skirt that made him need to jerk off every time you left his trailer. Tonight was no different at the start. Wearing that little skirt, prancing up to his doorstep, sliding on some more “Bomb Cherry” lip gloss you bought at the mall a few days ago. Knocking you heard a few curses muffled behind the door before it swung open and Eddie was in front of you, holding onto the door frame with a white knuckle grip. He looked sweaty and tense. “Hey, sweetheart. Y-You’re early!”

You smiled up at him, eyes beaming. “Yup! I have a date with Jason tonight and he wants to smoke with me, so I wanted it early.” Eddie couldn’t stop that sinking feeling, but kept a smile on his face.

“Of course,” He opened the door for you to come in. “Come on in.”

He shut the door when you got inside and disappeared down the main hallway. “Should’ve given me some notice, sweetheart. Probably would’ve been a bit more prepared.” He came back into sight with a small plastic baggie.

Eyeing the bag you noticed it was more than usual. “Eddie, that’s too much.” You scrambled for your money in your small coin purse. “I-I only brought a 20… That’s not enough for that.” You looked up at the pretty boy standing tall over you, teeth pressed into your lip.

“Babe, you know you don’t need to pay. Don’t even worry.” He winked at you. “Think of it as a gift for being such a loyal customer.”

You shook your head and dug around for more money. “N-No, I can’t… You’d be losing out on money…” Managing to find another 20, you grabbed his hand and thrusted the two bills into his palm. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the bills in the collar of your tank top.

“Sweetheart, I have half the high school buying from me. I raise prices for them because they’re desperate.” He ran his fingers up the side of your neck, causing chills to go up your body, his thumb lightly rubbing against your jaw. “I promise, giving you free weed is not hurting my business.”

You pouted, opening your mouth to argue, but you gasped softly when he pushed his thumb past your lips, making you shut up. He looked down at you with a hunger you hadn’t seen from him before. It made your knees weak and you almost had to grab onto him for balance.

“But, if you’re so desperate to pay for it, you can do something for me…. Only if you want to of course.” He leaned close to you, pressing you up against him. “Ditch Carver and stay here.” You whimpered and he smiled at you as he felt your tongue press up against his thumb. “Ditch the Jock and stay here so I can show you how you deserve to be treated. You come here in this tight little skirt and it takes so much in me to not bend you over the table and fuck you stupid.” He takes his thumb out of your mouth and drops that hand to the back of your thigh.

“Eddie… please…” You whined softly and pressed more against him.

“Please what, baby?” He leaned in and ran his nose up your neck, starting to guide you to the wall.

“Touch me…” Your voice was a whisper and the words barely came out before he shoved his hand up your skirt and dragged your now soaked panties down your legs just enough to slip his fingers between your folds.

“Fuck, baby… So goddamn wet for me.” His middle finger was at your clit in seconds and you whimpered, falling into his chest as he rubbed it gently. You kissed his neck, sucking softly, wanting to mark him up.

He picked you up and carried you down the hallway towards his room, throwing you on the bed and stripping you of your clothes before he swiped his band t-shirt off. You bit your lip and looked at his inked up chest as he admired your body. Soft skin under his fingers. His thumb running over the small heart stick and poke tattoo on your hip. He grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards him and he dropped to his knees between your legs. Gasping, you instantly grab onto his shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy with pleasure. He kissed softly up your thigh and suddenly bit down, making you squeal and tighten your grip on his shoulders.

“God, you smell so fucking good. Wanna bottle it up and wear it as cologne.” You didn’t get a chance to think before his mouth was fastened to your clit. You cried out and grabbed onto his hair, moaning and bucking into his mouth. He grunted and held onto your thighs with an iron grip that will no doubt leave some bruises. Bruises you’d wear proudly. “So fucking good, baby… So much better than I imagined…”

You looked down at him with a grin, a sudden ego boost flooding your brain. “Y-You’ve imagined this?” Still a little breathless from the nonstop abuse to your pussy by his mouth. He nodded and swirled his tongue around your clit.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could I not. S’fucking pretty everytime you come here. Wanna make you mine, baby…” You moaned at his words and licked your lips. He slipped a finger inside you and curled it just enough to hit that spot that made you melt under his hands. Those big hands you’d imagined wrapped around your throat every night.

“I-I’m yours, Eddie… Promise.” You gasped and felt another finger go inside you. He grinded against his face, the feeling of your orgasm getting so close. Just as you were about to, he stopped and kissed up your body. You whined and he kissed your neck. “Eddie…. Come on, I was so close…”

“I know, baby, but when you cum, it’s gonna be on my cock.” He kissed you hungrily, commanding your lips. You kissed him back and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled back and wrapped his hand around your throat before pulling his pants and boxers off. You whined and reached out for his cock, your mouth watering with a sudden need for it. He chuckled and let you up. Your lips instantly attached to it and he groaned, fisting his hand tight in your hair.

“S’it, baby… Just like that, fuck!” He threw his head back as you took him in all the way and gagged on him. He thrusted his hips against your mouth and you moaned around him. Tears filled your eyes from his tip poking the back of your throat and they streamed down your face. He lightly slapped your face and held onto your head with both hands before roughly fucking your face. God, you were in heaven. The need to please Eddie filled your every thought. “Such a good little slut for me. Yeah? You like my cock deep in your throat? F-Fuck…!” He pulled out, letting you get a gasp of air before going right back in. You tapped his thigh a few times, signaling him to stop. He pulled out. “Are you okay?” Sudden worry filled his eyes.

You nodded and laid back on the bed, sniffling softly. “Yeah. I just need you inside me, now…” Whining softly you spread your legs wide for him.

He bit his lip and looked around for a condom before pulling it on. “Fuck, my favorite girl ruined under me… Never thought I’d see this outside my dreams.” He grabbed your neck again and you smiled, loving the feeling of his rings digging into the sensitive skin on your neck. Another bruise you’d wear with pride. “Gonna go in sweetheart, M’kay?” You nodded and he slowly slid inside you, groaning at how tight you were wrapped around him. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut, getting used to how big he was inside you. He started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, letting you get used to him. After a minute or two, he went fast and rough, wanting to ruin your pussy for every other man. He grunted and groaned, still holding onto your neck. You reached up and dug your nails into his back, no doubt scratching it up. “Mine. You’re mine, now, baby. All mine…! Fuck!” He let go of your neck and leaned his head down, sucking hard on your nipples while fucking you harder.

“Eddie! M’gonna c-cum!” You cried out and came hard around his cock, squirting out as he kept rubbing your clit. You sobbed in pleasure and buried your face in his neck. He groaned and came inside you after a few quick thrusts. You both breathed heavily and he gently pulled out of you, making you hiss at the empty feeling. He threw the condom away and came back to your limp figure on the bed with a wet washcloth to clean you up. He rubbed at your hips.

“Sorry baby, got a little carried away.” He eyed your neck, the red spot forming a bruise matching the ones on your hips. You shook your head and sipped the cold water he gave you.

“S’okay, I like them…” Your voice was scratchy and he smiled at you, kissing you once on the lips before getting in bed with you. You snuggled up to him and shortly fell asleep before he could say anything else.

[chrisevansleftpeck]

Kitty Games

Word Count: 1k

Spencer Reid x Reader

Content Warnings: None :)

“This one!” You pointed at a small brown kitten, curled up in a ball inside of a cage. “Oh, Spencer, please say yes, please say yes.” You’d finally managed to drag Spencer to the pound after a long argument about adopting an animal. It took five months for him to even agree on getting a cat, but four more months to decide on whether to adopt or rescue. Finally, an agreement had been made.

Spencer smiled down at the kitten’s mud-colored fur. He chuckled a little under his breath at the kitten’s meows at you as you offered your hand out in front of its cage. Still crouched at the kitty’s level, you turned your head towards Spencer. 

“I didn’t say a thing.” Though Spencer couldn’t hide his smile as he pretended to doubt the kitten’s cuteness.

“It’s a girl, Spence. But she’s a baby and doesn’t have a name yet.” You waved your hand at Spencer to crouch down next to you. He shook his head in protest but was forced down as you unexpectedly yanked at his hand. “See that?” You pointed at the information attached to the kitten’s cage. “No home, no prospective buyers. She’s all ours if we want her.” 

Spencer’s face softened as he looked at the kitty, watching her lick at her paws and purr. No doubt in his mind she was the one. Yet still… “I don’t know y/n. I don’t know if she’s the one.” 

Your mind whirred. You couldn’t not take this cat. What if someone else rescued her by the next time you visited the pound? “Baby, please. She’s perfect and I love her a lot. I really really want her.” 

“We can’t make a choice in one day. Let’s revisit this over the weekend, okay?” Spencer watched as his words broke your heart, but deep down he knew it’d be worth it. However, Spencer didn’t expect your sadness to turn into anger so quickly. 

You shot up and started towards the door. Spencer followed you out into the cold quickly, “I’m eating with Penelope, Em, and JJ in two hours anyways. I’ll ask one of them to pick me up from here.”

Spencer looked puzzled, you were upset with him. For real. “We- we came here together though.”

“Well I don’t feel like going home alone without a cat right now. But since you do, I think you’ll do just fine going home without me too.” You were making no sense at this point. You were in a post-pound funk after seeing so many sweet babies without a home or place to live.

Spencer reached for your hand in distress, but you just yanked it away. “Alright. But I’m not leaving until I see you get into a car.” 

“Fine.” You whispered.

“Fine.” Spencer bit back, really hoping this game would be worth it. 

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As soon as Spencer knew he was in the clear, he ran back inside the pound and wasted no time rescuing that kitten. He’d calculated that he’d probably have about four hours to get the cat and set everything up, so there was no time to waste. 

Straight from the pound with a brand new kitty, Spencer drove to Petco and picked up a pink fluffy dome-shaped cat bed, much bigger than the kitty, which he thought was funny. On his trip he also picked up an array of cat food and other necessities such as food and water bowls, litter, a litter box, scoopers, everything he’d need. 

That left him with two hours to set up the kitty’s toys and new purchases in the apartment. He spent every minute carefully, building the kitty’s perfect new scratching post, kitty palace of a bed, and filling a little cookie jar with tiny cat treats. All done, Spencer waited in the living room with his kitty in his lap, a big pink bow tied around her, so that he could see your reaction as soon as you walked in. 

You made it into the apartment around 9:40 and slid a to-go meal across the kitchen counter. It was a little something you’d picked up for Spencer. No matter how upset you were, you loved him and would always look after him.

“Hey, we missed you.” Spencer stood up from the couch, extending the wrapped kitty in his arms out to you. 

Your hands shot up to your mouth. “Oh my god. Spencer-” You dragged on as your eyes began to cloud. Spencer carefully laid her in your arms, unwrapping the pink bow around her. “Oh my god, I feel horrible, horrible, horrible.” You whispered as you pet your new kitty.

“I knew to pull off the surprise I’d have to make you sad, but I didn’t think you’d be mad.” He laughed, watching you place a little kiss on the kitten’s small head. Your heart melted as she purred into the kiss.

“Oh! And she has toys, oh my god. It’s so perfect,” You finally looked up at Spencer with a little tear running down your cheek, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Spencer shook his head, just wrapping you and his baby kitten up into a big family hug. “Don’t be.” He placed a kiss on both you and the kitten. “What’s our baby’s name?”

“Hmmm.” You thought with a smile. “Muffin.”

“Ooh, I love Muffin.” Spencer replied, making you giggle. You watched as Spencer’s eyes studied your lips. “I love you. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you so much more. Thank you for the world, plus my kitty.” You placed a kiss on Spencer’s nose in return, then went back to stroking Muffin’s back. 

Spencer raised his hand to your face, “Our kitty.” He claimed with a smile.

“Our kitty.” You corrected yourself, pulling Spencer and your mutual furbaby into a tight, loving, thankful squeeze. The long day made sense now. Everything was worth that moment. Everything was worth little Muffin Reid.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

I’m starting a taglist, if you’d like to be added just comment!

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Taglist:

-  @goobysgoobers

[fknmoonmoon]

Come in From the Storm

Warnings: smut (minors DNI pls thx), swears, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle

A/N: be gentle, I haven’t written smut in months

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The first time you think you’ll marry Rhett Abbott is the first time you see him hold a baby - the day Amy comes home from the hospital. You’re just kids, still in high school, but the way her tiny little body fits in just one of his long, lanky arms, her head resting snugly in the palm of his hand, the way he smiles down at her and coos sweet little nothings…  It’s a given fact, written in stone on your naive little heart, that you’ll grow up and raise a family with this boy. 

Of course, young love is a fragile and fickle thing, and barely two years later you’re leaving for Chicago for college, leaving Rhett to take out his broken heart on anyone with a warm body and a “yes”. The breakup is ugly, it’s loud, it leaves tiny bruises around your eyes where you cried so hard you puked; but your mama hides the garbage bags of memories you try to throw out, tucks them away in the attic for maybe when they’re older they’ll come back to each other.

Rhett Abbott calls you once during rush week when he’s shithouse drunk, and then he doesn’t speak to you for six years. 

You never meant to stay away so long. You always meant to come home after graduation, to open your own firm and give back to the place that raised you. But Chicago has a job for you, a job that comes with six figures and a corporate black card, and your daddy says you’d be insane to turn it down, that you’d do better to work for someone else for a few years before striking out on your own. Wabang isn’t going anywhere.

When you return, it’s almost for his funeral. He’s worked too hard for too long, and now it’s time for you to help him let go of the ranch that’s been his whole life. You can’t manage it, you never intended to, but you’ll be damned if the Tillersons are going to swoop in and steal it for a fraction of what it’s worth. So while the realtors and the lawyers sort out what’s worth what to who, you move him and your mama into a cozy little two bedroom in town. It’s close to the office that now has your name on the door, tiny and nothing at all like Chicago, but it’s yours. 

Every Tuesday you drive out to the ranch to check on the place. Not that you need to. Your parents’ employees love it like it’s their own, and you hope whoever buys it will keep them on. They’ll probably tear down the farmhouse, though. It’s fine. The floors creak and too many of the boards are tripping hazards, the wallpaper hasn’t been refreshed since Reagan, the plumbing is a goddamned nightmare. Still. You’ll miss it.

You’re checking the flue in the downstairs fireplace when footsteps echo through the empty house, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You recognize his walk, would know the sound of his boots anywhere.

“Hey.”

Your stomach falls through the floor. He’s leaning in the doorway between you and the kitchen, hat on, feet crossed, tall. Handsome.

“You ok?” 

You blink, give your head a little shake. “Yeah, just…. surprised.”

“I woulda called, but I… got a new phone awhile back, lost all the numbers.”

“Oh.” You’ve had the same cell phone number since you were fifteen, and he memorized yours before his own.

“Yeah.” He looks down at the floor, toeing at an imaginary spot on the wood. His hair’s a lot longer than it used to be. “So you’re really selling, huh?” 

“Yeah.” You’ve held your own in front of billionaire CEOs and a former prime minister, but apparently Rhett Abbott can still leave you speechless. Your breakfast is threatening to come back up.

He clears his throat, twice. “Got any buyers?”

“I, uh… I don’t know, there’s a team of lawyers and… stuff… handling it.”

He nods, his mouth a thin line, and there’s a few moments of silence before he shifts away from the door frame. “I gotta get back. S’good to see you.” He’s gone before you find your voice again.

Three days later, the realtor sends you an offer. The Abbotts - Cici and Royal - want the land, and will meet asking price on a single condition - that Rhett buys the house plus three acres around it. 

“What does that boy want with the house?” Your father has to ask you twice. You’re reading over the email for the fifth time. 

“I don’t know.”

Rhett answers your call on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Meet me at the house.” You don’t even bother to change into real clothes, something you regret when the cool air of the evening hits your thin t-shirt and lounge shorts. 

He’s waiting for you on the porch swing, the one the two of you helped your parents hang ten years ago. The storm clouds rolling in the distance are menacing but far enough away, for now. There’s a bottle of bourbon on the railing. 

“Guess you got the offer.”

“What the fuck, Rhett?” 

He shrugs. “Mom and Dad need the land. I need to move out.”

“Into my house?” 

“Your house?” He leans back into the swing, arm draped over the back. “Yours? You haven’t been home in ten years.”

“Six,” you correct him sharply. The sudden anger is warm in your chest. 

“Somehow feels longer.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Or maybe not long enough.”

“How the hell can you even afford…”

His smile fades, eyes narrow, and you leave the sentence unfinished. “Why do you care?”

You don’t know. There’s no logical reason to be upset. The Abbotts are offering ample money. Rhett can’t live at home forever. But to move here, into a house full of memories of a future that never came to be…

“Have a drink with me.” He rises from the swing and grabs the bottle. You mean to refuse, but a clap of thunder startles you; when you turn to look, the storm has moved in much faster than you anticipated.

You find him opening cabinet doors, searching for cups. “We moved everything out.” It doesn’t phase him. He just unscrews the cap and takes a drink, offering the bottle to you from where he leans against the counter. He splurged on the good stuff.

Maybe you shouldn’t be perched on the counter sharing a bottle in your empty kitchen, but the wind has whipped up and the sudden downpour isn’t letting you leave any time soon, and after a few pulls from the bottle both of your tongues are a little looser. 

“So. Big city girl returns home, then?”

You set the bourbon just out of his reach. “Yep.” He’s looking everywhere but at you. 

“Surprised you remember your way around a stick shift,” he nods out the window towards your father’s truck, and you roll your eyes at the implication. “Can take the girl off the ranch but not the ranch out of the girl, I guess.”

You stay quiet, willing the storm to blow on by so you can get the hell out of here.

“Surprised to see you in boots, too, not really the image you aim for anymore is it?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhett.”

He chuckles, leans over your body to grab the bourbon, and the smell of him makes your belly clench and your eyelashes flutter. “Still a mouth on her, at least.” He tips the bottle near upside down, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he’s done. “Some things never change.”

“Like you’d notice if I did,” you mutter, grabbing for the bottle. “Haven’t even seen me for six years, and-”

He grabs suddenly at your jaw, pushes himself between your legs with a hard look of fury. The bourbon crashes to the floor, glass shattering, but neither of you pay it any mind. “And who’s fuckin’ fault is that, huh?”

You return his glare, centimeters from his face. “I asked you to come with me.”

His laugh is dark, bitter. “Yeah. Bring your dumb hick high school boyfriend to sit around your high rise while you…” He trails off.

“While I what?” You push at him, forcing him a whole two inches back. His hand releases your jaw. “Make something of myself?” It’s your turn to be furious. “I paid cash for a whole fucking house for my parents, I’ve been all over the fucking world, and you’re still just-” A sob catches in your throat. 

“Still what?” The storm outside is no match for the one in his eyes. “A dumb hick?”

“One of us had to do something with our lives, one of us had to get out of here.” A tear spills down your cheek; you always cry when you’re mad, dammit, but the sight of you crying has never been something Rhett Abbott can bear. His face softens, and he wipes at your face with his calloused thumb.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice strains against the sob still threatening to break out of you. “You’re not… I didn’t mean you’re…” You swallow at the lump in your throat. “You didn’t even call me, Rhett.”

You see the moment his heart breaks, the wobble of his lips before he presses them to yours, forceful but unbearably tender, too. He tastes of the bourbon and the faintest hint of tobacco. Your hands rise instinctively to tangle in his hair and keep his mouth on yours, for even as he parts his lips to deepen this kiss you’re terrified he’ll pull away.

His arms circle themselves around you to pull your bodies tight together; he’s stronger, broader, harder than you remember. You slide your hands down his neck, over his shoulders, up to his face, frantic to be as close to him as you can, and when you have to lean away for a gasping breath he attacks your neck with desperate kisses, returning your soft moans with his deeper grunts. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters in between kisses. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The hard, stiff fabric of his jeans is rough against the flimsy fabric of your shorts, but you meet the rocking of his hips with your own and that delicious friction is almost enough to make you come.

“I missed you,” you whimper, your voice finally cracking as the tears start to flow. “I missed you so much for so long…” He trails his lips over your jaw and across your cheeks, his hands coming to cup your face as he again licks into your mouth.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he grunts, and it makes you laugh even as you cry. He lowers a hand between you, shoves it past your waistband and into your panties where he drags a knuckle through the gathering wetness. “Fuck,” he grunts again, rolling that same knuckle over your clit and returning his mouth to your neck when you let your head fall back with a gasp. There’s a molten heat blooming in your belly, a tension coiling itself at the touch of just his fingers. The boy you left behind was enthusiastic but awkward, unpracticed; this is a man who knows what the fuck he’s doing.

“More,” you beg, the steady circling of his finger growing tortuous as that tension coils tighter. “M-more, Rhett.”

He growls before he rips at your shorts, tearing them down your legs and whipping them across the room with your panties while you grab at the button of his jeans, silently thankful he hasn’t worn one of his stupid belt buckles that do nothing but get in the way. He almost pulls you off the counter when he jerks you forward, but pins you in place with one hand while the other finishes pushing away his jeans and boxers; you get a brief glimpse of his erection before he’s too close for you to see, one hand firmly at your hip as he fists himself in his other, lining himself up with you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly he’s softer, slower, another kiss to your mouth when he parts your lips with the head of his cock and slips himself inside of you, fingers tightening on your hip when you let out a breathy moan. He’s bigger.

“Oh my god.” His forehead drops into the curve of your neck. Your legs burn with the effort of this position, but the sweeter burn of his girth is the only thing you can focus on. “Oh my god,” he repeats when he slowly pulls out and buries himself again, pushing another gasp from your chest. He takes his time, wetting his finger with his tongue to again draw circles over your clit while he pumps leisurely in and out of you, lifting his head to watch your face as that tension coils ever tighter. Outside, the storm rages.

He feels himself move more freely within you and his thrusts get faster, harder, grunting with every one. “Rhett,” you whine. “Oh god, oh god, baby, it’s… Rhett, fuck, I…”

“So good, so fucking good,” he says. The pressure on your clit is making your toes curl, ankles locked around him. “Fucking belong here, with me-” His breath hitches when you clench around him, his hips stuttering but his finger on your clit never loses its rhythm. “So good,” he repeats himself, “always so fucking good and mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Fuck, yes, it’s- I’m-fuck, Rhett, fuck!” Those blue eyes are laser focused on you as you struggle to hold his gaze before your orgasm bursts through you and you fall back, scrambling for grip on the smooth counter as you roll your body against his, curses and moans and his name spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it til he comes with an explosive grunt, lifting you nearly off the counter and into his arms. The subtle rut of his hips is the only thing that moves then, the two of you wrapped up like if you hold each other tight enough it will hold back all the years of hurt.

A piercing crack of lightening makes you jerk in fear, the motion causing him to slip out of you, but his arms are steady around you, his face buried firmly in your neck. He speaks, but you can’t make it out over the thunder.

“I said it was supposed to be ours,” he says, rising to rest his forehead against yours. “I thought if I bought it, the house, you would stay. With me.”

That’s ridiculous, you think to yourself, but he looks so sad. “Rhett.” Your voice is soft, tired. “I already came home.”

“To Wyoming, yeah, but…” He works at his bottom lip with his teeth. “I always thought we would end up here, in this house, raising a couple kids, getting old. And then…”

“I left.” The words hang between you.

“Yeah.” 

“I wanted you to come with me.” The words are a pitiful excuse. Rhett Abbott does not belong in Chicago.

“I wanted to go.” 

The both of you are holding back tears, but this conversation happens now or it never happens. 

“One phone call. Six years, you call me one time?” 

He looks ashamed of himself. “First it hurt too much. It never quit hurting, but after awhile I was more afraid of hearing you were fine without me.” He sniffs, clears his throat. “I missed you so hard, it would’ve killed me to hear that you didn’t.”

You tighten your arms around his shoulders and bring your lips to his ear. “I’ve loved you since I was thirteen years old.” It’s his turn to choke down a sob. You lean away to look him in the eye. “But I had to go. You have to understand that, you know I’m not a rancher.”

He nods. “I know.” You stroke your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and his eyes close as he leans into you. “I’m not asking you to be. Just… if we could, maybe, think about it. Us, here. I make good money on the circuit, and working for dad, I can take care of us, you can work as much or as little as you want.”

“Got it all planned out, do you?”

“Since I was sixteen.” His smile is crooked, sure of himself again. He grazes his fingertips over your arm that’s still hooked around his neck. “Is that still what you want? A life together?”

You lean up to kiss his cheek. “We’ve been a part a long time. Don’t you think we should get to know each other again again?” On the outside you’re level headed, on the inside you’re screaming move me in tomorrow and let’s start making babies.

“That would be the rational, intelligent thing to do, yes,” he says. “But why should I start making rational decisions now?” He grins down at you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your reply is quick, and it widens his grin. “Let me get my parents settled. Get my office up and running. Take me on a date, let me see if I still like you with your pants on.” You pinch at the wet spot on the hem of his shirt, the both of you giggling. “But yes. Yes, I still want a life with you, Rhett Abbott.” 

He leans in for a soft, sinful kiss, and the heat in your belly blooms again. The storm will rage for hours more, but you’ll pass the time just fine.

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

The Escape

The Escape (Gojo x Reader- Part 5 of The Marriage)

Author’s note: Hey guys. Another chapter of The Marriage for anyone that’s reading. I rewrote the ending to this chapter and while I feel a little more confident with it I’m still a little unsure about this one. Any feedback you guys could provide would be really helpful. I didn’t really want to dedicate an entire chapter to the final showdown (this fic has always been from the pov of the sidelines). So the next chapter will be post battle trying to navigate a new reality. I’d like to do a timeskip for reader and Gojo but I’m not sure if there will be one or two more chapters after this. I’ll see how it flows. Enjoy!)

Warnings: blood, sexism, childbirth, manga spoilers, canon divergence (because daddy’s home), minors dni

Another piercing scream ripped through you. It was agony, dragging you down and holding you in its talons. The pain was excruciating, worse than you could have imagined. No amount of books or classes could have prepared you to give birth, at least not alone. You and Satoru had concrete plans set in place. A duffle bag packed away, the quickest route to the hospital marked. He should have been by your side through this. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead, and encouraging you to keep going. 

Now you were here, in some cramped bedroom, two strangers looming over you. 

How long had you been in labor? You’d lost track of the time. 

Uraume, checked between your legs for the umpteenth time. 

“Still not dilated enough. You know prolonging this won’t work in your favor. Lord Sukuna grows hungrier each day. Any longer and he’ll rip that brat out of you himself. 

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

They just smirked. “Does it hurt? I hope it does.”

Yes it did hurt. You had no pain medication to ease your suffering, so you were forced to bear it. 

Kenjaku opened the bedroom door. 

“How are we doing?”

You threw your head back against the pillow in agony. 

“She refuses to cooperate,” Uraume griped.

“Now, now Uraume. We mustn't be impatient. We will wait for (Name).”

~

Satoru clawed against the sharp mountain of bones in a manic fit. He didn’t even flinch when they cut into his skin and spilled his blood. He only raised his wounded palms up and slammed them against his head as he clenched his teeth. The skeletons tore at his clothes and dug their boney fingers further into his flesh. His blindfold had been lost, leaving him overexposed to this illusion. 

“Satoru,” one of the skeletons whispered. 

He halted and looked up to find it mutated into the beast he had seen before, Sukuna. In his arms, he held you.

Your unconscious body was pummeled and bloodied. 

“(Name),” he choked out.

Sukuna looked down at you, limp in his arms, and smirked.

“This offering is one of many,” Sukuna murmured. “And what a beautiful offering it is.”

Satoru lunged towards the display only to be forcefully shoved to the hard ground, dislocating his jaw in the process. 

“Let go of her!” he ordered in vain.

Sukuna just chuckled. 

“Fear not Satoru Gojo, this is only a preview of what’s to come, either her demise or yours.”

Satoru just screamed, all he could do was scream.

~

“Kenjaku, she’s losing a significant amount of blood,” Uraume informed.

They had stepped into the hallway momentarily to discuss your current state. 

“Bleeding is completely normal.”

Uraume just shook their head. “No, it’s far too much. She’ll die before the baby is even delivered.”

Kenjaku just sighed. “If she dies, she dies. If our buyers say anything I can just pull out another curse to keep them in line.”

Uraume halted and stared at him in disbelief. “But what about Sukuna? I wanted to bring her to him alive.”

He waved his hand. “Sukuna will have his fill with the culling games players. Maybe that lawyer or the failed manga artist would be a nice appetizer.”

Uraume clenched their teeth at his laid back attitude. 

“Kenjaku,” they warned. “This wasn’t what I agreed to when I enlisted my services to your cause.”

He just sighed, enraging them even further. “Uraume, let me spell this out for you. If you don’t get back in there and deliver that baby, I’ll release Satoru Gojo and after he kills me, he can tear your precious master limb from limb. Now, do you want to keep wasting time?”

Uraume said nothing and dutifully returned into the bedroom where you groaned.

~

Everything started to slow down, the movements of your hosts, their bickering voices. Your excruciating pain washed over you in a state of euphoria as the final moments of labor loomed over you, their predatory gaze pressing you down. 

~

In the mix of screams and grunts the cries were soft, sounding a world away, slowly approaching until you were pulled back to reality. Your baby. You and Satoru’s baby. With a final exhaustive push they had entered the world. 

“It’s a girl,” Kenjaku cheerily announced as Uraume held the screaming newborn up. For a moment they almost disappeared from your view, leaving you alone with your daughter. She was beautiful. You choked back a sob, completely overwhelmed. She had a little tuft of white hair accompanied by identical lashes, the resemblance to your husband was uncanny. Your joyous relief was abruptly interrupted by Kenjaku’s unwelcomed voice. 

“What a beautiful girl she is,” he insincerely cooed.

Uraume swiftly cut the umbilical cord and went into the bathroom to clean the newborn in the sink. 

Kenjaku waltzed in front of you and inspected between your propped up legs. “My my (Name), Uraume was right. You're still bleeding.”

You said nothing. 

“C’mon, where’s that feisty woman I met two months ago? Doesn’t she have anything to say?”

Again you said nothing. 

He just sighed. “Childbirth never does you women any good. The one thing you should excel in, and yet you’re left as nothing but a shadow of your former self. 

Kenjaku briskly retrieved a small shopping bag from the corner of the room and pulled the contents out for you to see. 

It almost was enough to pull you out of your stupor. It was Satoru’s Hugo Boss coat.

“While you were passed out, I thought it was imperative to make a small trip back to your home.”

He walked up to your bedside and held it over you. 

“You see (Name), contrary to what you and the others think of me I’m not entirely cruel.”

Uraume exited the bathroom with your daughter in their arms. Her cries had subsided to tiny whimpers. 

Kenjaku continued his self congratulatory dribble.

“I brought this coat to wrap your daughter in, that way she’ll have a keepsake of her father.”

“Who she’ll never know,” you spat. 

He sighed and handed the coat to Uraume, who used it to swaddle the baby. 

“Say what you will. But time doesn’t pass in the prison realm. So in a way I’m the most humane don’t you think?”

You scoffed with what strength you had left. 

“Humane? How is robbing my daughter of her life anything but cruel?”

He smirked. “You jujutsu sorceres are so hypocritical. Tell me, how are my actions any different than those that you take with your students? Remember your precious friend Yu Haibara? Wasn’t he robbed of his life?”

You clenched your jaw. 

“How dare you say his name you bastard.”

He ignored your insult and continued. 

“If his parents will never see their son grow, then why should you have the privilege with your daughter?”

Before Kenjaku could finish you off he abruptly staggered backwards, the look of glee he sported was quickly replaced with a mortified one. 

“No, no, don’t,” he cried. 

Then he shook his head and clenched his jaw in irritation. “I’ve already told you to stop interfering. Even in death you refuse to lay dormant.” 

His complaints proved meaningless as his right hand shot straight into his chest, failing to severely impair him.

He let out a bitter laugh as he pulled the bloody fist out. “You are by far the most disagreeable host I’ve ever had, Suguru Geto.”

Uraume roughly grabbed Kenjaku’s arm. “Stop this. These games of yours are only stalling our goals.”

He sighed in defeat. “I suppose you're right. I got a little carried away.”

Kenjaku turned to face you. 

“I suppose this is the last time we’ll see each other. If you die before Uraume can bring you to Sukuna, I’d love to have you as one of my cursed spirits,” he admitted.

“I’d rather be eaten by that devil,” you weakly grunted.

He gave you a small wave and headed out the door. “You might just get your wish. Goodbye.”

You shifted your gaze to Uraume.

 “Let me hold my baby,” you demanded.

They just wrinkled their nose. You’ll only contaminate the potential of her cursed energy. I’ll be preparing her for our departure. When I come back, I hope you’ll be dead. I can always find Lord Sukuna something more refined to eat.”

~

“Stay here for a while, Uraume,” Kenjaku ordered. “I want to record her time of death.”

They sighed at the request, wanting to return to their masters side instead of play nurse.

“Alright.”

~

“Satoru,” you scolded. “This is serious.”

You swatted him away as he tried to go in for another kiss. 

The two of you sat in bed together, trying to pick a name from ‘100,000+ Baby Names.’

“I am being serious,” he argued as he kissed your shoulder. “I already have the name I want.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“I already told you we’re not naming our baby Bert. He’s not a sixty year old man.”

Satoru looked at the page you had stopped on. 

“Mari’s a pretty name,” he mused as he pointed to it.

You hummed in acknowledgement. 

“And if it’s a boy we’ll name him Bert,” he concluded.

“Well for the baby’s sake I hope it’s a girl, because I like Mari too.”

You smiled despite yourself and kissed his lips. 

“It doesn’t matter what their name is. We’ll love them no matter what,” you confirmed.

~

Mari, your daughter. 

‘Satoru, I’m not sure if I can fulfill my promise and survive, but I’ll die trying.’

~

Your body was throbbing. It took everything in you to sit up. You just needed to get your daughter and take her to Jujutsu High. You were informed by Kenjaku some time ago that Ieiri had remained at the school under orders from the higher ups. If you could get Mari there, she’d be safe. 

You trusted Ieiri to find a safe home for your daughter, in the event that you died. Just until Satoru could get to her. And he would get to her, you knew he would. You stood up, already feeling the blood oozing out of you. You ignored that, combined with the searing pain and made your way out of the room. 

~

Uraume in the very dining room. 

Their back was turned away from you as you crept up behind them, holding your breath. You only had one chance to disarm them. You were significantly weakened by Kenjaku’s blow, so your cursed technique was less likely to kill Uraume, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t temporarily disarm them. You just prayed you could muster enough strength. Mari laid on the table in front of them, still wrapped in Satoru’s coat. 

‘I’m coming sweetheart.’

“Do you think Mommy’s dead yet?” they sadistically cooed.

“Why don’t you ask her,” you hissed. 

They turned around to find your hands gripping their throat. Before they could lift their hand to unleash their own technique you released everything you had. 

They twitched in your grip and pushed you back, causing you to stagger. Uraume attempted to grab you, but could only stumble and fall to the floor. 

“You bitch,” they spat. “What did you do to me?”

You didn’t even bother to reply. You scooped up your daughter and sprinted. Pure adrenaline helped you to push past the pain that coursed through your body, your daughter’s crying, Uraume’s threats. You just kept going. Down the hallways, out the front door, through the courtyard. 

“It’s alright sweetheart, Mommy’s here. I’m here,” you whispered. 

You miraculously passed the gates, after two months, you had managed to break out. But now was not the time to celebrate, you’d do that once you were at Jujutsu High. 

~

Gojo buried his head in his lap, mulling over the destruction he’s created around him. Multiple skulls lay shattered beneath his feet. Shards so sharp he contemplated picking up a piece and stabbing into his heart, his eyes, anything to stop this torment. He felt as if he’d been imprisoned for over a hundred years. What if he was released to meet some wasteland with only the ashes of his loved ones remaining?

He picked up a broken jaw bone with a jagged end, brushing his calloused thumb against it. 

“This is pathetic,” a familiar voice scolded. 

Satoru slowly looked up, his eyes widened when he came face to face with his former friend. His only friend. 

“Suguru,” he mumbled in disbelief.

He looked like he did years ago, when the two of them fought alongside one another at Jujutsu High. The same uniform, the same hairstyle, the same knowing smirk. 

“Okay, now I know I’ve lost it,” Satoru mumbled, dropping the jaw bone and letting it fall to the ground.

Suguru just stared down at him. “What do you think you're doing? Look at yourself.”

Satoru leaned over the edge of the small island of bones. His face was cut up and bloodied, with deranged eyes and a tattered coat. 

“This is how the strongest looks in confinement? This is pitiful.”

Satoru stood up with a scoff. 

“Big talk from the asshole who lost to a guy who couldn’t even use Jujutsu.”

Suguru should have been offended, but he just laughed. 

“And you took in his son, way to honor my memory.”

Satoru wanted to stay mad, but he couldn’t muster anything up. He felt himself quickly settling into their banter with ease. 

“What are you doing here? Are you real?”

“Not physically. But that’s not important right now. There’s not much time.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s (Name).”

Satoru went rigid. Images of Sukuna tearing into you came rushing back to him.

“She’s delivered the baby and is on the run in Kyoto. But Sukuna is about to reclaim his true form. And he’s using the Fushiguro kid as a current host.”

Satoru’s thoughts raced a million miles a minute. 

You were alive but in danger, he was a father, and Megumi was being exploited by that damn coward. 

“How do you know all this? Do you see what he sees?”

Suguru nodded. “And I can fight to take control. But only for short periods of time.”

Satoru briefly remembered him grabbing at his neck. Or Kenjaku’s neck. 

“I need to get out of here,” he mumbled. “But I’m stuck.”

“Ieiri and the others are about to unseal you.”

He let out a boisterous laugh.

“I knew they could do it.”

“You can’t leave here looking like that,” Suguru scolded. 

“Okay Mom.” he snorted.

But Suguru didn’t return his jovial tone. “How would it look if the strongest emerged from captivity broken down? Clean your face. Stand tall.”

So Satoru did just that, he leaned down over the small body of water and washed the blood from his body, the injuries miraculously vanished. 

He nearly jumped when he felt someone press some fabric against his cheek. 

It was the ghost of Riko Amanai who dried his skin, using her headband to do so. Unlike Suguru she was silent, but her actions were defiant. She disappeared as quickly as she arrived.  

Once he was clean he stood up. 

At the top of the void a small section of light began to poke through. Miniscule at first, then gradually expanding out to bathe the darkness with light. The skeletons screeched in agony as they evaporated into nothingness. 

All that remained was Satoru and Suguru. 

“Are you strongest because you're Satoru Gojo or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?”

He grinned and punched his shoulder. “I’m the only Satoru Gojo.”

The light consumed them, then there was nothing. 

~

Kenjaku stood in the dilapidated structure with a bewildered grin on his face. After two months Satoru Gojo stood alive and well. 

“It’s been a long time since you were able to relax. How was it?” 

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, his coat slipping from his broad shoulders. “You should choose your words more carefully. After all, they will be your last.”

Before he could obliterate Kenjaku, Uraume emerged from the shadows. 

“It’s done. Sukuna lives,” they cried in joy. 

Kenjaku smirked. “Looks like you're too late Satoru Gojo.”

The white haired sorcerer punched the ground where Kenjaku stood. He quickly dodged it before meeting his end. 

“Where are they?” he snarled. 

Kenjaku smirked. “If you're referring to your adopted children. Their bodies were discarded somewhere and taken by the former vessel. Still alive, but barely. But as for your wife and daughter, I believe their deaths are looming over them, and the cause is a hungry curse. 

In the blink of an eye Satoru was in front of Uraume. They barely had time to react, when he slammed his fist against their stomach. Blood spilled out of their mouth as they went flying back into a wall. Satoru pulled Uraume up from the rubble before they could catch their breath. 

“I hope you enjoyed seeing him again because I’m going to ensure his stay is short.”

With that, he warped and vanished.

~

You didn’t stop running until you hit an abandoned residential area. Equipped with condos and recreational areas. 

‘They must have been evacuated.’

You had hoped you’d at least be able to catch a train or cab to take you back to Tokyo, but it seemed your luck had run out. You didn’t give a damn though, you’d walk if you had to. 

You blinked back the black dots that flooded your vision, fighting tooth and nail to keep moving. 

You’d just have to keep going until you found an unaffected area. From there you’d find some method of transportation. You couldn’t stay here, in your current state you were like catnip to any lingering curses. 

Your breath hitched when you saw a figure in the distance. A familiar pair of blue eyes, unruly white hair. 

“Satoru,” you whispered. 

He quickly closed the distance and engulfed you in his arms. 

“(Name),” he murmured. “(Name), I’m here.” 

You sobbed in relief. “You’re alive. I knew you’d find us.”

He pulled away from you and took in the face of his baby, wriggling in her mother’s grip, protected in his coat. 

“Meet your daughter, Mari,” you croaked. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, quickly noting the blood pooling beneath your feet. “You’re hurt,” he muttered. 

“Satoru we need to get Mari away-”

A loud crash through a nearby building caused the ground to shake. From the smoke a figure emerged. 

One with four arms and two faces. They wore a wicked sneer. 

“Well isn’t this a beautiful sight?” Sukuna cackled.

Mari started to cry.

Satoru held you a little tighter. 

Sukuna descended to the ground and stood before you, massive and intimidating, like standing before an escaped hell spawn. 

He rubbed his spear, eager to pierce it through the lot of you.

“I was only promised your precious whore as my first meal, but I could care less about Kenjaku’s plans. All three of your heads will mount the walls of my throne room when I’m done with you.

You could hardly breathe. The cursed energy radiating off of him was so overpowering it weighed you down. It was as if lead had been placed on your shoulders. 

“No,” Satoru firmly responded. “We’ll fight on my terms.”

~

You gasped when you felt yourself briefly float, stumbling to your feet again at the steps of Jujutsu High. 

Satoru scooped you up and rushed towards the main entrance. 

“Is anyone here?” he called out. 

Ieiri came rushing down the hall, staring in disbelief at the three of you. 

“You’re here,” she marveled. 

“Only because of you and the others. But listen, I can’t talk right now. (Name) is bleeding out.”

Ieiri’s gaze flickered to your current state and she nodded. “Follow me.”

~

Your husband gingerly set you down on the examination table in the lab. 

An unfamiliar face stood in the corner of the room. It was a man with a black streak across the bridge of his nose. When he noticed him, Satoru raised his fist to attack, only to be stopped by Ieiri. 

“It’s a long story but he’s with us now okay?”

He just glared at him. “I’m not leaving my family with him.”

“Satoru,” she scolded. “His and my technique are the only effective method to save (Name).”

“Satoru,” you croaked. “I trust him if Ieiri trusts him.”

He finally relented and turned his attention back to Ieiri. 

“Where is everyone?” he urgently asked. 

“Downtown, evacuating civilians. Yuji came back to drop off Megumi and Tsumiki.”

She answered his question before he could ask it. “They’re both fine. Megumi managed to expel Sukuna from his body before he could hurt his sister.”

He sighed in relief. 

“Then I need to get downtown.”

Sukuna would probably be drawn there.

He bent down and pressed his lips against yours. 

“Be safe,” you whispered.

He gently cupped your face. “I’ll always come back to you.”

You knew he would. 

You savored the last moment of his fingertips against your skin as he pulled away.

He’d always come back to you.

You shut your eyes as darkness overtook you. 

~

Satoru stopped to find Megumi at the end of the hall.

“Take me with you,” Megumi demanded. 

“I’ve been gone for months and that’s your response?” Satoru jested. “No welcome home or how have you been?”

Megumi just glared at him. “Stop screwing around.”

“You’re in no condition to fight,” Satoru argued. “You need to stay here with your family.”

“I’m not going to stay here and do nothing. Right now I need to be with the others. Let me help you.”

“I killed your father,” Satoru blurted out. “I’m not a person you should help out.”

Megumi was silent, rage coursing through him. “Are you telling me this to try to stop me from going? My father? Am I supposed to resent you and fall apart.”

“I  just want you to know. I just want you to know the type of person I am before you decide to help me.”

“Toji Fushiguro is nothing but a memory for me, and I have no intentions of living in the past. If you won’t take me I’ll walk.”

Megumi passed him and halted when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Satoru mumbled. 

~

You woke up in a soft bed in one of the spare rooms. Mari slept in a small cot beside you. You sat up and pulled off the covers. The bleeding had stopped and the pain had vanished. 

The mysterious man from earlier looked up from his spot in the corner. “Oh, you’re awake. Dr. Shoko should be back in a minute.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, leaning down and scooping up your daughter.

“Thank you…”

“Choso,” he informed you. “Technically speaking, Choso Kamo.”

Your mind flashed back to your dream of the woman in the shed. 

“I see, I’m (Name) Gojo. And this is my daughter Mari.”

Your daughter cooed in your arms.

~

“So, you’re half curse?” you asked.

“Yes, but I was told to live as a human. I’m still trying to decipher what that means to me.”

Choso’s eyes wandered to Mari, and he tilted his head in curiosity. 

“Would you like to hold her?” you asked.

He hesitated, but nodded. You got out of the bed and sat beside him on the ground. You handed him the baby. He fumbled a bit, but managed to get into a comfortable position. A small smile formed on his lips.

“I think you’ll be a fine human,” you assured him after a moment of silence.

He was grateful for your words and you were fortunate enough to grant them.

A pair of footsteps rushed to the door and pushed it open. You gasped in relief when you saw her. 

“Tsumiki!” you cried.

There she was, Tsumiki Fushiguro, alive and well. 

The young girl’s eyes filled with tears. She wasted no time rushing towards you and smothering you with a hug. 

“(Name)!” she sobbed. “It was horrible.”

You cradled her in your arms. “I know. I know sweetheart.”

Ieiri came into the room with an unreadable expression, clutching her phone. 

They won.”

Your breath hitched and you tightened your grip around Tsumiki.

“The curses have vanished.” 

~

The End. 

Taglist: @mc-reborn

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

You know when people talk about Bluey’s Ghostbasket, they really focus on the ending when I think we should look at the episode as a whole. Like in real life, Bluey shows us how kids learn through play.

There’s the milder examples of it like Daddy Putdown, Bluey misses Chili and tries recreating the scenario Chili might be having while she’s at a baby shower. Then there’s Copycat, after coming across the budgie, Bluey tries to cope with the death of it by playing a game recreating the events(aside from Bingo improving)

So with Ghostbaskets, it makes me wonder how long this has been going on for the Heelers. How long have they been showing their house only to have their kids scare off potential buyers? How do Bandit and Chili want the game version of it to end so the girls can learn? What will any of them hope to learn from this?

What a deep dive.

Yeah, I had the feeling that the game was a way for the girls to cope with the sudden change of them moving houses, especially hearing it on a random occurrence like at dinner or right before they went to school, or if they even found out by accident.

We don't even know how long this was a topic discussed within the family, nor how long the house was on the market for.

But good on Chili and Badnit for trying to help the kiddos by playing the game and letting them win, but also telling them that this won't be the outcome each time and that they will have to face the inevitable.

Can't wait to see what happens on The Sign special.

[captain-igni]

May have to go in for surgery soon, honestly spooked- BUT HERE'S KAEBEDO

Looking up from his sketchbook, Albedo hummed, tapping his pencil against the paper a couple of times. Rubbing his legs together. He was having, for the first time in a while, an art block. He found he was hungry, but he was also in no position to get up from his spot in his favourite chair. His ankles were swollen, his back sore, there was no way he could get up, that is, unless he had the extreme urge to pee again, then he would. 

His hand left the pencil on the page as it moved to the side of his swollen, bulged out stomach. He was still a bit shocked from initially finding out he would be having a baby, but his boyfriend had been there to help the best he could the whole way so far. They didn’t have much, just a small apartment, small jobs. Well, Albedo himself wasn’t working much now, he was mainly focusing on his college courses. Kaeya, on the other hand, was a trainee police officer, and while it didn’t make too much money, it was enough to keep them afloat for now. Albedo was also trying to sell his art, too, and he got a few buyers, but he was mostly using that to pay off his medical expenses from the pregnancy. 

Feeling around, rubbing his hand over the bump a few times, getting a couple of kicks in return. Feeling that life in him, poking at the raised lumps from where a foot happened to be pressed up against him. 

Blue eyes shot up from his own belly to the door as he heard the lock click, and Kaeya walked in, shutting the door behind him. He had two bags in his hands, smiling to the blonde across the room. “Hey, I brought dinner, I hope you didn’t get too hungry waiting.” He announced, walking over and moving Albedo’s sketches off of him to the side table before sitting on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Mm, no, not too badly. I just haven’t been able to get up. What did you bring?” Now that his curiosity was piqued, Albedo was trying to see what was in the bags, Kaeya chuckling and pulling them closer. 

“Well, I brought you something you said you’ve been craving!” Albedo was now even more interested, trying to lean forward to see, but he felt a bad ache in his side and fell back again with a wince. Kaeya stood up, gently rubbing his side and whispering to ask if he was alright. When Albedo assured him everything was fine, Kaeya sat back down and continued. “Well, here we go, French toast! And, you also mentioned being in the mood for some mushroom pizza, so I picked you up a little one.” Kaeya explained as he handed off the bags to his partner. 

Smiling, Albedo unloaded the items from the bags, going right for his French toast. He currently had a sweet tooth, and he was happy Kaeya was able to remember the things he asked for. After the other fetched him a fork, Albedo went straight in, happily eating while Kaeya pulled his own food out to eat. 

“How was work?” The blonde asked, and listened to the response he got, nodding here and there to show he understood and was listening. When Kaeya finished, he asked Albedo how he had been today. “Well, I’ve been pretty bored, but I’ve found ways to keep myself busy. Doodles, television, playing with the baby. Otherwise I’ve been in a lot of pain, so I haven’t left the chair much. I really have to thank your brother again for this, he’s so generous..” Kaeya scoffed as he watched his boyfriend wiggle around a bit to find a more comfortable spot. 

“You thanked him enough, I don’t know if he could take anymore of your positive energy. He feeds off of the darkness.” Kaeya teased, covering himself from the light and hissing dramatically. It made Albedo laugh a bit, before he curled up his legs a bit more. “Are you cold? Here, let me get you a blanket.” Albedo nodded, setting his food to the side while Kaeya draped a blanket over his legs and middle, resting his hands over the baby bump he had come to adore the last few months. “I can’t believe we only have one month to go, look at her…” Kaeya got down between Albedo’s legs, placing a kiss on the bump. “She’s so big already, I’m sure she’ll be so perfect…” 

Chuckling softly, Albedo nodded, threading his hands through Kaeya’s soft, navy hair. He could feel the baby kicking at Kaeya’s peppered kisses across his belly, which just made him chuckle a bit harder, eventually turning into short laughs, despite some of the pain that accompanied each hit against his taut skin. Even though it wasn’t planned, and they never intended on this life, it was still so fun, and so exciting.

[luvrl0sers]

hello! can i ask for a bts tarot reading please?

my songs:

- goodnight n go - ariana grande

- why - def

- yours - greyson chance

- girl in new york - bloo

- heartbeat - bts

thank youuuu. hope you have a good day💗

❧ 𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖓𝖔. 26

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬…

𝖏𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖐𝖔𝖔𝖐✨

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝…

“You know what it does to me

So baby, what you tryna say?”

“Lately, all I want is you on top of me

You know where your hands should be

So baby, won't you come show me?”

“Play with your mind for no reason

I know you love how I tease it”

“Oh, why'd you have to be so cute?

It's impossible to ignore you, ah

Why must you make me laugh so much?

It's bad enough we get along so well”

❧ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐠𝐨 - 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞

“Look straight at me

I'll tell you if you want

Actually, I'm out of control when I look at you

I'm also afraid of myself”

“You're definitely avoiding me

What did you feel from me yesterday?

I'll never be a light person anymore

Rumors are just rumors

Will you believe me after listening to me?”

“I want you like crazy

Trust me like this”

❧ 𝐰𝐡𝐲 - 𝐝𝐞𝐟

“I'm holding

Onto every word that you last said to me”

“I'll be back to you one day

One day”

“& all these miles between us, they mean nothing

Oh, I promise we're okay

We're okay now”

“2 AM calls, oh, it's my nature

I'm a little bit high, calling to tell you

I'm yours”

“No matter who I'm with, it's you that I adore

If you're not sure

Baby, I'm yours”

“That you'll hear me when I say I need you around

'Cause life's so busy, babe

You keep me up

I'm never coming down”

❧ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

“Come back and say my name

I wanna taste your lips again”

“she, my baby, call me back

Where you at”

“When she smile

I just melt”

“Feelings keep piling up

The pain grows deeper”

“Money keeps piling up

I'm your personal buyer”

“I can't live without you”

❧ 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤 - 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨

“It leaves me feeling sea sick, baby

Seems like I'm locked deep in the dreamlike reality

It spins me 'round and drives me crazy

It seems that I'm like the moon in the midday”

“If I didn't know you

Maybe I'd have given up”

“I wish that you would love me

Like yesterday, don't let go of this hand ever again

And every time my heart beats 

Match your steps so you don't wander around ever again”

“Coming across you is like a TV drama

created by the universe”

“The rain is coming close to an end

& I won't let go of your hand”

“My heart's on fire for your love”

❧ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 - 𝐛𝐭𝐬

sorry we haven’t done these in a while we’ve been really busy but thank you so much for your patience & we hope you enjoy your order 💗

[yesitsvjays]

I became friends with a guy whose father was a drug addict and mother was a schizophrenic. Judging by his character, you’d never guess his life story. I love seeing him in his element. He has the kindest soul, he reminds me of myself. We get along really well.

I became friends with a girl who at the age of 22 became a first home buyer. She knows multiple languages due to the abandonment of her home country torn by war. She’s the definition of a tough girl. I don’t think she spends enough time recognising her own achievements, but I can’t wait for the day she marries a man who will let her bring her walls down.

I became friends with a guy who struggles with social anxiety. He’s fiercely logical. We’re the complete opposite. His mind is boisterously coloured with knowledge that the average person wouldn’t bother to consider, and I think it’s interesting. I hope he doesn’t realise that I talk to him the most as an attempt to aid his social anxiety. He’s gotten a lot better since we first met.

I became friends with a boy who at the age of 17 became a father with a 27 year old woman. Although he still has a crush on me, I look at him like a baby brother so naturally I’m quite protective of his annoying ass. Had I known him earlier, I would’ve pulled her up and challenged the construct of their relationship. As intimidating as he appears, he has a good heart. He’s going to be a good man one day.

Upon entering a new chapter, I never would’ve guessed these friendships as new characters in my life, but somehow they’ve managed to become a few of my favourite people. Thank you for being here. I am so blessed.

[mysheephasfailedme]

Close Your Eyes and Hope You Get There

The bus ride to LAX felt like galloping into the sunset at the end of a cowboy movie, except after disappearing into a tiny spot at the edge of the horizon, all that awaited was another vast piece of barren land, and another, and another, for me to disappear into. The sunlight outside was a murky yellow that tainted the trees with a sickly hue. Shiny white apartment buildings leaned into dirty yellow complexes, as if someone thought it would be funny to give potential home buyers a visual summary of before and after thirty years in LA. There was a Target and a CVS and a torn-down seven-eleven all packed up in one block, and the next block was a psychic boutique, tire replacement shop, and taco food truck 3-in-1. The bus jerked and jolted as the driver swerved, and I tried my best to keep my balance, refusing to let myself lean back so I could see the subtle differences between each stretch of land, enough to convince myself that the bus was still headed somewhere.

For someone like me, born and raised in Asia and way too lazy to venture out of westwood to explore LA, bus rides are the only real chance to see parts of LA and America that isn’t campus, where everywhere you walk you see flowers and green trees flourishing upon the money and labor pulsing under your feet, and for me to see fully fleshed out people, with significant others and grandchildren and bags of groceries, responsibilities that aren’t just going to classes, worries that balloon beyond getting a B, and weekend plans that are more than grabbing lunch and studying together. I tried to observe some of them but found that I was too dizzy from my motion sickness, so I closed my eyes. The last thing I saw was a beige two-story apartment and the dusty sedan steering in.

I thought about all the places I’d traveled to in America. A day trip to New York on another bus, trapped in traffic to pass through an underpass to actually get into New York. There was a guy lounging in his red convertible breathing in the exhaust from all the trucks and buses waiting with us and I whispered that’s got to be really bad for your lungs. When we were finally there we went to the Met and I almost died from the excitement. Sunlight spilled in through the roof into the room that housed the Egyptian temple, and we sat beside the water after exploring all the Egyption collections, envying the locals strolling by leisurely, some with kids in tow, as if all of this was the most natural thing to do on any Saturday afternoon. A three-week stay in suburban New Jersey, where to walk my friend’s baby cousin to the bus stop we passed by a lush meadow where my friend spotted blue jays. On the last day of school, my friend’s uncle drove us to the carnival, the sky light blue against my friend’s delighted screams on flying swings. That night we had chocolate cake. Three months in Santa Clara, where I got used to seeing this cute couple waiting for the bus together, the guy leaving to catch another bus minutes before ours would arrive, the girl texting him throughout the ride. From what I could make out sitting three rows behind the girl, her phone’s wallpaper was their prom photo. When I moved to another airbnb and had to start taking another bus to work, I wondered if they ever wondered about me. On the bus back from work I’d sometimes see this homeless old man, who boarded one day with a big scratch on his elbow that had barely started to scab. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as his injured arm hung lifelessly against his frame, the wound brushing against his grayish white shirt, leaving a faint trace of blood, all while he stared outside, at the traffic that had started to build up. I started taking a different bus the next day, the old man slumped on the bus seat, with his arm with the scabs like flaking fish scales and the specks of blood on his shirt too much for me to see.

I opened my eyes as the bus limped to a stop. The city bus center. I got off, no longer worried about getting off at the wrong stop after three years in LA, as a plane took off in the distance. There was a gray sign that read “LAX shuttle” beside an employee-only parking lot and a small line of people already waiting, so I dragged my orange suitcase over. A couple minutes later, a man swaggered over and started singing “Jesus, oh Jesus,” shaking a cup half full of melting ice cubes and pacing along the line of waiting passengers. If I’d been alone I would’ve seriously started freaking out, but since there were others I settled for inching farther away when he wasn’t looking. Whenever he got louder, closer, I would stare at the golden line piercing through the middle of his white, pointy left shoe. His white shoe, dull from all the grime on it, must’ve been so shiny brand-new.

After what felt like forever, the gray shuttle pulled in, and he cut in front of me to board from the back door. On the shuttle, he sang his song about Jesus as the sun set behind the cars before us and we disappeared into what I hope would be the last horizon.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

3.30.23 Thursday

1:56 am

Uncle DD and Aunt Karen were here awhile ago, around 1:30 am they got the 1 puppy and they brought us here breads and pancit cooked by Aunt Karen...

The buyer was insisting them to bring the puppy this early morning... I just said happy life for that puppy... Hoping for more buyer...

For the buyer today, blessing for that person.... Hoping that person to have a good life...

My personal case:

I still wanna leave the hometown and have a future far away from here....I feel super fat and ugly here...

2:18 am

Still,having the windblow for 16 years,for nothing...

3:07 am

Done,watching...

7:49 am

I want my uncle Jun be dead for overly reacting this am that one baby of Neko will die,the one wearing a pink collar coz she or he is not eating and Uncle Jun said that one is vomiting... I told him probably that puppy got the trait from their mother Neko...

That one will not die but I will check later ... I will just drink my coffee...

He said to text Uncle DD, to bring Pink on the vet today... I did text Uncle DD already about Pink is vomiting and not eating according to Uncle Jun...

Probably, Pink is just sad coz green went away already...

I don't like Uncle Jun,straight talk, the dream of him this fake togetherness...

Uncle Jun went to Georgia'Z forest...

10:30 am

This is not easy angels... I have to take care of Pink here for awhile coz I saw him/her vomiting water but he or she still drinking her or his water... Will check her/his gender later... Coz I'm cooking as well here... It is not easy to multi task in the house...

5:05 pm

Uncle Jun is here already, awhile ago during lunch time he brought 1 box of mongo hopia and cupcakes...

I feel bitter... I feel self-pity... I wanna leave the hometown... I'm thinking of money and job and I don't wanna be here...I want xfactor and to gain upperish men's friends...

Pink is vomiting 4 times now, I hope it is just a heatstroke or upset stomach... I feel self-pity coz I don't have extra money here and I aslo dream to have a raccoon.... So, I let Pink to stay inside the house,hoping it is not serious but Uncle Jun keeps on saying it is parvo... But probably effect of deworming,it can be... I don't want Pink to die... Angels of life on animals please save Pink...

But she still keeps on drinking water... I love Pink as well she is the daughter of my baby John..

I made Ginger tea,later will give Pink...

I feel self-pity coz I can't bring Pink now on the vet... But hoping it is just stomach upset... Pink needs some rest... Coz it is really hot...

My personal case:

I wanna cry... I feel self-pity and I feel angry and irritated for losing xfactor on the society to get some lil attention to gain upperish men's friends...

I wanna buy starbucks everyday and I feel self-pity coz I can't still do it... Another thing I feet fat and ugly and I wanna go to gym and I wanna ride donkey and camel...

[sarambcreates]

Hybrid Forms: New Brief and brainstorming

Our next project was briefed to us and its focus is packaging design, which is something I am looking forwards to look to. However, further than packaging design, we need to also pick an audience, choose a product for said audience’s issues, and then make the packaging for said product. For this we really need to put ourselves in the buyer’s eyes and flesh out their consumer profile, so we were given a few exercises to pinpoint our audience.

We were asked to pick out one of four options, and I chose a new parent. 

We then were given a profile sheet to complete, and it did give me more dimensions of the audience:

After showing this to a tutor, it really made me reflect on what kind of person Beatrice is and how did her life change so much with the arrival of the new baby. For example, what would be found in her purse before the baby, and it all was things a classy businesswoman who enjoys the finer things in life has: luxury brand makeup, with hair brush and other self care products. These were all substituted into things for the baby’s care, which really in contrasts shows her lost of self to the arrival of the baby. But even more the text, desires and goals show how it all comes from a place of anxiety and fear for the baby’s health. She has involved family members that could step up to care, even her husband, but her issue is mainly psychological, which is she only really trusts herself to be as worried as she is. To break this down, I developed a list of what really is stopping her form for example going to her favourite fancy Italian restaurant, and in turn what solutions could help her get there.

This made me realise that the solution to her issues go further than simple getting her a dinner reservation in a package. While it would cheer her up, a person like her would not actually manage to enjoy the benefits of an outing without tackling her new parent anxiety beforehand. Which means that the issue to be addressed is her anxieties and worries, and not her not being able to go out and enjoy a nice dinner like she did before she had the baby.

We then had to pick one of the elements, air, fire, water and earth, (I picked earth), and did a mind map with word association, while thinking of the audience.

This chart really reinforced the fact that it really all goes back to her worries and fears for the baby’s safety, and that what she needs is grounding from said worries and peace of mind. Even visually, an aesthetic that thinks of plants and nature and a sense of peace of mind is something to keep in mind when it comes to that stage.

Then it was time to think of what products I could pick to make a package for:

I initially made a list of the possible products to pick from, but I found them all a bit ordinary and already existing. I then discussed with a tutor that creating a non-real product is valid (example: something that is not yet technologically possible) or I could choose a simple product too, both are valid. I decided then to imagine a more technologically advanced baby monitor that would really hit all the anxiety issues a new parent would have. On the other hand, making a book dust jacket or maybe a book sleeve are things that appeals to me as I have a big interest in book related art and design and hope to work with it as a professional in the future. As of right now, I am leaving the final choice open, and will let the workshop next week where we experiment with templates and nets for shapes in order to conclude which product I will be making a package for, as I could initially make a box with visuals that would look better in a dust jacket and vice versa.

[hr8nighteagle]

How I Sorted All My Dolls To Be Sold

Last week I was informed that I would be participating in a Mom to Mom Sale at the high school I graduated from. My parents said that the money will go towards my college fund. I know I couldn’t get out of it regardless, and if I was getting money there wasn’t going to be much hurt, so I agreed.

Since I am a female and was the only girl in my family I was gifted a lot of dolls. I have now grown out of them and the Mom to Mom Sale is perfect for getting rid of them and making cash while doing so. It was a huge collection and I wanted o share how I sorted it all to make it easy to sell. Hopefully this can help others sort their collections of things they want to sell as well, or at least just give you something to read. 

I started by washing anything that I feel I could easily wash. This included all plastic pieces, not including things with stickers or glitter. Everything I washed was soaked and gently scrubbed with a toothbrush. Anything with more serious stains was scrubbed with the abrasive side of a kitchen sponge. I know most people will wash their buys anyway, but I also wanted to help however I could. I was not confident in my ability to wash the dolls themselves and the clothes, so I am going to hope that they should be okay. They were in storage during all of the huge COVID-19 quarantines so there shouldn’t be any viruses on them.

After I washed everything I could and let it dry, I sorted everything out. I started by sorting doll type; Barbie, Ken, Bratz, etc. I separated every doll and tried to give them the accessories and outfits they came with as well as a brush for their hair if necessary. each doll and the stuff they were put with went into an individual bag. I then gave each doll a few extra outfits and accessories (selected at random). All leftover outfits went into a separate bag to be sold together. 

I also sorted the stuff into sets. I had a set for horse things (with the horse), home, kitchen, bathroom/beauty, concert (including a stage), baby/motherhood, western, and outdoor/activity. 

Each bag will be sold for a dollar. I am hoping that this will make it easier for the buyer to see everything and it shouldn’t be overpriced. I am also hoping it is easy for any little ones who are bringing their own money to buy things. Our table at the sale will be advertising that we are a pet-friendly home and I will also have a jar labeled “college funds” as an extra. Anything not sold will be donated. I’m now really looking forward to the sale and getting rid of all the things that have been accumulating in our household. 

[losingitinjersey]

I’ve always struggled with transitions and we are currently smack dab in the middle of yet another one.  Really, this whole year has been a transition as it’s literally called Kevin’s “Transitional Year” of residency.  

We’re still in Virginia just waiting until we can move to Pennsylvania.  We need to be there by the end of June and, as you know, we started putting offers in on houses.  We’ve now submitted three offers and are about to put in on a fourth.  

For the first house we went in at $10k over asking and it went to a buyer for $51k over asking and with all inspections waived. 

For the second house we went in at $30k over asking (with a $15k appraisal difference and $5k worth of damages found from inspections covered by us).  It went to a buyer for only $5k over asking ($25k LESS than we were offering) but with all inspections waived. 

For the third house we went in at asking (with a $15k appraisal difference, and $5k worth of damages found from inspections covered by us) and we should hear back by today on that one, though we’re not hopeful given our less than competitive offer. 

We didn’t go hard on this one due to the fact that it’s at the high end of our commute length preference and we didn’t expect the house to get appraised at asking let alone anything over. 

For the next house we believe we’ll be going in at $20k over asking with the same $15k appraisal difference and $5k inspection thing.  

I’m sure once we start getting desperate we’ll have to waive inspections but given that we don’t expect to see the house until after it’s ours, an inspection sure feels like the smart thing to do.  

Even though I’ve been eating like a complete jerk, I have made it a priority to get out for at least a brisk 30 minute walk every day.  Before this week I hadn’t made it out to walk much since my maternity leave ended on December 15th because I didn’t know how to fit it in.  Since I can never get enough sleep due to babies, I didn’t want to wake up at 5 a.m. to fit in a walk before work starts at 9 a.m.  I haven’t wanted to be away from my computer during the work day so I could be as responsive as possible and be the best employee I could be, despite fellow co-workers and manager telling me work/life balance needs to be a thing.  An after work walk feels impossible due to dinner time, bath time, bed time, then cleaning up from child destruction, leaving only an hour in my day where I can sit and watch a show before going to bed at a reasonable hour because, again, lack of sleep due to bebes.  

How have I managed to walk then? Rather than insisting upon my normal 5 mile, 1.5 hour walk (I have said MANY times that a walk isn’t worth it unless it’s 5 miles), I told myself that 30 minutes is okay.  It’s better than not walking at all.  I just need to get outside and get moving.  I found a quick loop and I’m making it happen.  Only one time so far have I gotten pinged by work and felt the need to rush back so I could reply to someone about a scheduling question.  Learning that I, too, can take a lunch break and get some sunshine and exercise has made a big difference.  

Though, despite this newfound dopamine, I’m still finding myself struggling.  I think it’s both because of this transition period where I’m constantly looking at homes and falling in love - planning out our entire lives in a house only to have it fall through.  But also because now that it seems like restrictions are lifting for covid, I’m seeing evidence of everyone getting together with friends, planning trips and living life.  For the past two years I was able to blame covid on not doing anything but now that that’s not as strong of an excuse anymore I feel extra stuck and lonely.  Even if I wanted to take a trip, I wouldn’t be able to do so due to my husband’s never-ending work schedule and my extreme lack of childcare with zero family/friend resources nearby.  All my friends with kids are on the other side of the country so I can’t even have mini playdates.  Sure, I could make friends here but we’ve had one foot out the door since moving here in April.  

I know this is just a season of life and what we get for pursuing Kevin’s medical education on the other side of the country.  I chose to have a life full of kids and I’m SO grateful I am even blessed enough to have one let alone two children, especially after all those bitter years of infertility.  Yet here I am still longing for what’s next.  I look forward to once we’ve moved to Philadelphia and get settled into a home we hopefully love.  Being only a 2.5 hour train ride to @nycnomad and a 3 hour drive to my sister’s house.  I hope that since we’ll be in PA for at least four years we’ll be able to settle in and actually make some friends.  I know what we’re experiencing isn’t forever but I’m so looking forward to Kevin having a more regular work schedule let alone when he’s an actual attending and gets 10+ weeks off a year. When our kids are older and have friends which make us friends.  I’m not saying I’m unhappy with where we’re at at all.  I absolutely adore my life and children and don’t want them to grow up at all, yet also can’t wait to be out of this currently super challenging two-year old phase.  

I’m just all over the place :) 

Some photo mentions:

Photo 4:  Erp found my tweezers and was helping me tweeze my chin hair :)

Photo 10:  This morning Erp and I put 10 pairs of socks on her :) She was quite proud of this and I’m hoping I didn’t encourage a behavior she’s going to now want to do every morning. 

Other life updates:

Finally moved Aug out of our bedroom and started sleep training.  Both awful and wonderful at the same time.��

I downloaded TikTok and am obsessed with all the cleaning and organizing videos which amazingly inspires me to continuously stay on top of deep cleaning my house.  Unexpected outcome of that app. 

Currently in the middle of watching Inventing Anna and loving it (no spoilers please, I’m avoiding all Googling).   Before this I watched The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window and Ozark season four, both of which I’d recommend!  

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?�� 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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[broiderie]

Lost Princessa 29

Don't kill me. Here it is. I got it out as fast as I could!

Please don't duplicate, translate or transfer my work in any way. There's only one of me and this is the only place this is published.

Thank you to @drabbles-mc, @iamthegraham, @xeniarocks, and @jemmakates. Love y'all.

Warnings: kidnapping, guns, swearing, insults to Megan, threats to Megan, bodily harm... this is the WORST chapter that I have had to write. Let me know if I missed anything.

Megan put the phone down for a second and fought for breath. Brandon had Letty. She picked the phone back up slowly and cleared her throat. “Brandon - is Letty okay? I need to know she’s alright.”

Brandon laughed. “She’s fine. Not really able to come to the phone right now though. I dosed her pretty good.”

Megan took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted, Megan. You to come back to Tennessee with me. I’ve got a friend to introduce you to. He’s paid a lot of money for you already and I’d hate to disappoint him.”

“I won’t be sold again, Brandon. I’d rather die.” Megan felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath.

“Such a pity. I always thought you were smarter than that. I’d do better to sell your little friend. Letty’s a lot younger than you. More trainable when you get them younger. Probably a lot more money in her anyway. I’m sure my buyer can be pacified if I let him be the one to break her. You just stay safe and sound with your little biker gang. She can take your place just fine. I’m sure her daddy will be fine with it too. She seems like a lot to handle.” Brandon chuckled evilly.

“Wait! Prove she’s alive. Prove she’s okay first. Then we’ll talk…” Megan couldn't stand the idea of Brandon touching Letty. Letty who had done everything possible to help Megan since they’d met. Letty. Sixteen years old and already with so much ahead of her. Letty.

“There. I sent you a video. She’s out cold, but you can see her breathing.” Brandon now just sounded bored out of his mind.

Megan pulled the phone away from her ear to see the video Brandon had sent. It was definitely Letty. Hogtied and gagged on a dirty mattress somewhere. Megan muffled a sob with her free hand.

“Now. Are you ready to cooperate, baby sis? Or do I need to move to plan B and take this little bitch in your place?” He paused. “Tick. Tock. Clock’s ticking. Once she’s awake the choice is no longer yours.”

“What do you want me to do?” Megan asked quietly.

Hank knocked on the bathroom door. “Princessa? You okay in there?”

“Shit,” Megan hissed. “Yeah. Be right out!” she called.

“There’s the Megan I know and love. Listen close - you have two hours to ditch the apes in leather. Throw out that phone too. If you’re not at the local high school, underneath the bleachers, in two hours, little Letty’s going on a long ride with me. See you soon, sis.”

The phone cut out and Megan choked on a sob. She had two hours to escape the loving and watchful eyes of Hank and Bishop. Two hours before she gave herself up to a fate worse than death. A fate she’d do anything to spare Letty from.

A few minutes later, Megan came out of the bathroom fully dressed. She had watched her face to get rid of any trace of tears and hoped that would excuse her flushed face and red rimmed eyes. She tucked her phone into her gym bag and dropped it behind the bar so she could honestly say she didn’t have it if pressed. She had to keep it together. For Letty.

Hank looked up from his perch at the end of the bar. “All good, mi princessa?” he asked with a slight frown.

“All good. Just got soap in my eyes when I washed my face. Sorry.” Megan tried to give him a smile. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was there.

“Ahh. Okay.” He opened his arms to offer her a hug and she gratefully took it. Just the scent of him steadied her. She was about to break every promise she’d made him and she hated it, but she’d savor these last few minutes as long as she could.

Hank ran his hands over her tense back and shoulders rubbing gently. “Easy, Princessa. Just a few more hours. I’ve got you.”

Megan swallowed hard and nodded. Only Hank would assume this was residual tension from Taza’s run. She couldn’t think about her papa right now. Couldn’t think about his request that she not let Brandon take her away from him. If she did, she’d break.

Could she tell them about Brandon holding Letty? Maybe they could help. But no. She only had about an hour and a half left. She thought back to their unwillingness to even use her as bait for Jimmy. They’d never let her trade herself for Letty. She was on her own.

Hank pressed a kiss to her head. “C’mon, mi princessa. Let’s get some lunch. Maybe El Padrino will be back by the time we’re done and he can give you another salsa lesson.”

He led her out to the pit where Bishop was waiting for them. He shot a worried look at the president before guiding her to her rightful perch behind him. What could have triggered her? He could feel her breathing stuttering and the tension she carried even if she tried so hard to hide it. Megan was right on the verge of a panic attack and he didn’t know why.

They stopped at the diner and Megan’s plan solidified. She knew the school was just a few streets over if she cut through the back lots. EZ had told her stories of ditching study hall to go get milkshakes. All she’d have to do is get out the back door without them suspecting anything and run.

Inside, Hank and Bishop say where they could see the front door and the entire restaurant except the service hallway where the bathrooms were. They were on home turf and trusted the kitchen staff to alert them if anyone tried to sneak up on them from that way. Megan snuggled into Hank’s side and tried to control her breathing.

“Poquito? You alright, Sweetheart?” Bishop asked.

Megan nodded and tried to smile for him. This one was even more unsuccessful. “Sorry. Anxiety.”

Bishop nodded and reached across the table to pat her hands. “You’re alright, Poquito. Breathe for us, hmm? You want me to order for you?”

“Yes, please.” She buried her face in Hank’s side as he pulled her closer with the arm around her shoulders.

“Do you want me to take you home, Princessa? Maybe some barn time? Go see the horses?” Hank asked. He rocked her gently and glanced at Bishop again. Something was off, but maybe it was just because Megan was trying so hard to hold off her panic attack and control it this time.

“I’ll be alright. Just anxiety. I’m going to go splash some cold water on my face.” She firmed her spine and pressed a kiss to Hank’s lips shakily. “Be right back.”

Both Mayans nodded and Hank kissed her knuckles gently. “Take your time, mi princessa. Call out if you need me.”

Megan nodded and headed shakily down the hallway. She glanced at the clock. She had less than an hour left to make the meeting and save Letty. With one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped out the back door and took off running.

After about ten minutes, Hank and Bishop started to worry. Megan hadn’t returned to the table. Hank went to check on her. He knocked on the door to the women’s restroom. “Megan? You alright, Princessa?” There was no answer, so he tried the knob. It turned easily and opened onto an empty bathroom. “SHIT!”

Bishop’s head popped up from where he was checking his phone. “She alright?”

“She’s gone!” Hank went to the back door to find it unlatched and poked his head out. No sign of Megan and nothing looked disturbed.

Bishop was by his side immediately. “No sign of a struggle? Bastard must have caught her unaware…”

“Or he had a gun to her head to keep her quiet. Fuck! I should have cleared the building before I let her go to the bathroom alone.” Hank ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“This ain’t all on you, Hank. I was here too. Can you track her phone? Maybe he hasn’t had time to ditch it yet,” Bishop said.

“No. I’m not on the same phone plan yet. Only Taza’d be able to do that and he won’t answer right now because he’s on the road.” Hank sank down to sit on the threshold of the back door of the diner.

Bishop nodded. “Alright - start calling. Everyone. I don’t give a shit WHAT they’re doing. I want Miguel fucking Galindo himself out combing the streets. We find her. NOW.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Marcus.

Megan sobbed quietly as the school came into view. It looked deserted - as it should - with all the students on break. The actual size of the school shocked her. It was so much bigger than the one she had attended.

Past the buildings, she could see the sports fields and she started walking towards them. She knew where Brandon would be waiting. He’d be waiting for her under the bleachers on the visitor’s side of the football field. It was where he always had cornered her in high school when she was forced to attend games in the name of ‘school spirit’. She just hoped Letty was okay.

She rounded the corner of the bleachers and ducked under them. About halfway down stood Brandon with a gun to an upright and hooded Letty’s head.

“Ah. There she is. Cuttin’ it close there, sis. I was beginning to think you’d decided to let your little right rot.” Brandon smiled indulgently at her.

“I’m here. Let her go, Brandon. You have to let her go.” Megan held her hands up as if surrendering and took slow steps towards him. If she could just get a better angle, she would have a shot at him when he took the gun off Letty.

“Oh I don’t HAVE to do shit.” He pressed the gun tighter to Letty’s temple. “Stop where you’re at and keep your hands where I can see them, Megan.” A muffled grunt came from Letty and she started to struggle until Brandon smacked her over the head with his pistol. She didn’t go limp, but she stilled.

“Hey! Don’t hurt her. Brandon, you’ve got what you wanted. I’m here. Let letty go. She’s got nothing to do with this. She’s just a kid. Please. Just let her go,” Megan begged as tears rolled down her cheeks again.

“I have every intention of leaving your little friend here. But first - you’re going to VERY slowly - and with your LEFT hand - throw that gun that I know you’ve got at the small of your back away. Very slowly. No sudden movements and no funny business or I’ll paint these bleachers with her brains.”

Megan flinched but followed his instructions to the letter. She didn’t want to give him any excuse to get twitchy with his gun still so close to Letty. She threw away the 9mm that Hank had given her and felt like she was ripping her own heart out at the same time. There went the only chance she had of making it out of there.

“Good girl.”

Megan flinched again. The words of praise that she had so enjoyed coming from Hank or her Papa or even Bishop and Marcus felt like a physical slap coming from him.

Brandon transferred the barrel of his weapon to point at Megan and she breathed a little easier. At least it wasn’t pointed at Letty anymore.

“Now…” he tossed a set of zip cuffs at her. “Put ‘em on.”

Megan picked them up and tightened them.

“Good.” Brandon shoved Letty to the ground and took large strides to reach Megan’s side. He grabbed her arm and jerked her around. “Time to go home, sis.”

Megan struggled briefly. “Wait. Just let me check on her! Please. Let me know she’s okay.”

“You’re done making demands. Shut the fuck up and move before I shoot you and take her anyway.” He shoved Megan hard towards the side of the bleachers where he had apparently parked a small pick-up truck.

Megan craned her neck to see Letty struggling and getting one hand free to pull off the hood and reveal her bruised and battered face. She was trying to pull the gag out of her mouth too when Brandon shoved Megan again.

“I said move. No one is coming to save you, bitch.”

The truck was a common silver color and had nothing to make it stand out. Brandon pushed her into the cab across the bench seat from the driver's side and Megan quickly scooted over to huddle against the door. She tried to discreetly try the door handle only to have Brandon laugh at her.

“I’m not that stupid. You aren’t the first one to take a ride with me like this. Child locks are a bitch aren’t they?” He slid his gun into the door pocket next to him and started the truck. “Get comfortable... It’s a long drive.”

The Mayans quickly congregated at the diner. No one had called Taza yet - or any of the guys on the run. Bishop had left a text to have Taza call him at the next stop. It had been forty-five minutes since they discovered Megan was missing.

Coco was pacing. He’d only found an empty house when he’d gone to check on Letty. Her phone was smashed and he’d found a blood smear near the door. “He has to have Letitica too. That’s the only explanation. Bestard’s trying to pull a two-for-one special.” He took a hard pull on his cigarette and ran his hand through his disheveled hair.

“We don’t know that yet, Coco. We DO know that Megan is in danger. Hopefully we find them together,” Marcus said. He’d showed up with half of Miguel Galindo’s security team in tow - including Nestor, the head of security for the cartel.

Hank had gone from worried to pissed. Unlike Coco who seemed to be in perpetual motion, Hank sat stock still. You could barely see him breathing. His hands were clenched into fists on the table in front of him with the knuckles white.

EZ came hurrying in the door of the diner with a phone in hand. “Megan’s phone was in her gym bag. I checked when I got the call that she was missing. Anyone know the lock code? It could tell us something.”

Hank finally spoke. “91518,” he said quietly. “The date she found Taza.”

Bishop took the phone and put in the code. It opened to the text chain Megan had with Letty. The last message was a video and when he played it, it revealed the proof of life video Brandon had sent. “FUCK. He’s got both girls. Took Letty and used her as leverage. She probably walked right out on her own to save her. Last call was from Letty’s phone.”

Hank ran his hands down his face in pure frustration. “She must have got the call at the club house. It’s what set her off. Why didn’t she tell us?”

Angel had been silent this whole time. “Why would she? Think, man, how we reacted to the last threat to Megan. We locked her ass down. We refused to let her help catch him. Bet he gave her a short ass time limit too. Princessa figured we’d waste time arguing and get Letty killed.”

Gilly nodded. “What was it she called it if Jimmy took her? A no lose situation for the club? Bet she traded herself for Letty…”

Marcus’ burner phone rang. He stepped outside to answer it.

“Alright. Here’s how we start. The video of where he had Letty looks like an abandoned space. Dark. Concrete floors and fluorescent lights. How many local places do we know like that? How many of them do we not control? We find where he had Letty - we’re one step closer to finding Megan,” Bishop said.

Coco was on the laptop looking up abandoned places in the area. Nestor had his own tech guy on it too.

“Bishop, can I see that video again? There’s something familiar about it…” EZ said.

“Sure, Prospect. Do your thing.” He handed over the phone. “Gilly - call Frankie. We need check points on highways.”

“On it, Bish.”

Marcus came back inside. “One of the Sons was nearby. Stopped at the club house looking for you when no one answered his ride through call. I explained the situation. He’s on his way here to help.”

“Which one?” Bishop asked.

“Happy. He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s got a unique skill set that might help us out,” Marcus explained.

“OH SHIT! Bishop! I think this is the old weight room at the high school. You can see part of the mascot painted on the wall,” EZ exclaimed.

“Go! Coco, go with him. Letty might still be there,” Bishop said.

“I’m going too,” Angel said, heading out the door after EZ and Coco. Their bikes roared out of the diner parking lot.

A few minutes later, another bike pulled in. Happy strode inside pulling his gloves off. Bishop nodded at him. “‘Preciate the help. Sorry for the craziness.”

“No problem. Alvarez filled me in. Do we have a starting point?” Happy asked moving his toothpick around in his mouth.

“My guys have gone to check a lead now. We should know in a few minutes.” Bishop lit a cigarette and wished they were at the bar so he could have a whiskey.

“Good.” Happy nodded and sat himself in a booth nearby.

Everyone kept looking. The Oakland Mayans were out scouring the streets physically while the SanPAd guys were trying to pick up his train from the diner. Gilly had finished with the call to Frankie and went to check the security tapes from the diner’s back door.

Patty had sent her staff home and closed to let the club use the diner as a base of operations. She stayed though and poured coffee for everyone.

Bishop’s phone rang. “Yeah.” He answered it. Everyone froze. “Good. You guys stay with her. Get what you can out of her, but get her to the hospital to get looked at. She’d our only lead to find Megan.” He hung up. “They found Letty. She’s disoriented, but pissed. A little banged up, but overall alright.”

Hank sat up straight. “She say anything about Megan?”

“Says he’s got ehr. Thinks he’s driving a pickup truck. He dosed Letty with something so she’s not always making sense.:

Hank nodded. He had nothing he could do to help Megan at the moment, so he waited.

The new information set a fire under everyone. Nestor had his guy hacking the security cameras at the high school to see if they could find a shot of the truck leaving. Happy pulled up a map on the laptop to check for exit routes.

“If he’s in a truck, it’ll blend in. He’ll take something besides a highway and want to get out of dodge quick. Even a cocky son of a bitch like a cop won’t hang around after kidnapping someone that connected. I got four routes out of her. Three are pretty good bets. The fourth is a long shot, but doable.” Happy pointed them out to the gathered men. “He won’t speed. He’ll go at a normal pace. He can only have gotten so far. We can cut him off.”

“Good.” Bishop nodded. He assigned Hank one route, gave one to Marcus, and took the third himself. Each of them took a few men. “How unlikely is that fourth route?” Bishop asked, looking at the number of men he had.

“Pretty unlikely for someone who’s not local or at least a frequent flier. I don’t trust that he won’t take it enough to bet the girl’s life on it. I’ll take it alone. Send me a picture of the girl.” Happy started pulling on his gloves.

“Got something!” Nestor’s tech guy called out. “Silver S10 pickup truck. Only vehicle to leave the high school all day. No view of the plates but definitely two people inside.”

“What direction?” Nestor asked as he checked the magazine of his pistol.

“Looks like South, but we lose it right off school property. No traffic cams in the area.”

“Alright. Let’s move.” Bishop headed for the door.

Megan stayed huddled against the door of the truck with her fingers tangled in her papa’s necklace. They’d been driving for a while. Megan didn’t recognize anything. They weren’t on the highway yet either. Silent tears ran down her face. Her nose was so clogged she could barely breathe.

“Oh stop sniveling like a child. You’re giving me a headache. There wasn’t shit for there anyway. You should be thanking me,” Brandon growled.

“No. You took me from my family. You’re going to SELL me as a slave to some sick bastard. The only thing I can hope for is that my papa hunts you down like a fucking dog,” Megan cried.

“Your ‘papa’ doesn’t give a shit about you, Sweetheart. He left you alone. You don’t have a family. You never have and you never will.” Brandon took a left turn onto a larger road.

“You’re wrong. My papa loves me and when he gets back tonight he’s going to call in every favor he has to find your ass and make you wish for death.” She gave a watery chuckle. “You have no fucking CLUE who you’re up against, Brandon. I can only hope I’m around to see your end.”

Brandon laughed. “You think a lot of yourself, don’t you? No one WANTS you. I sold you once before and no one even batted an eye. They won’t this time either.”

Megan wiped her shirt as best she could on her shirt. “You are so screwed. Should have done your research, ‘big brother’. This time, I’m not a fucking no name waitress. No. This time - you just kidnapped the princessa de los Mayas. My god fathers are the president of the Santo Padre Mayans and the founder of the club. My father is a founding member and vice-president. And you - big brother - just pissed off the biggest motorcycle club on the west coast with ties to the cartel.”

“I’m not afraid of a bunch of apes in leather. Nice try.”

Megan glanced in the side-view mirror and saw a bike in the rearview. She felt her heartbeat jump. She reached and put on her seatbelt. If that was a Mayan scout, they’d stop this truck however they had to. She had to keep him distracted and talking. “You may not be now. That’ll change real fuckin’ quick though. Because that ‘ape in leather’ you took me from - he’s gonna take it real personal. And Hank eats little bitch cops like you for breakfast,” Megan growled. She had gone from scared to pissed the more she talked and the closer that bike got.

“Shut the fuck up,” Brandon back handed her hard across the face making her nose bleed.

“Why? Scared of the truth? Or just don’t want to think about my boyfriend removing your balls from your body to make me some earrings?”

A second, harder hit made her ears ring. Movement in the mirror caught her eye and her eyes widened. The lone biker behind them had pulled a pistol from his kutte. She folded forward and covered her head as bullets started to fly.

Glass from the rear window showered Megan as Brandon swerved hard cussing and reaching for his own weapon. In his haste to return fire he overcorrected and the truck hit the gravel on the shoulder of the road.

The next thing Megan knew she couldn’t tell up from down as the truck rolled. When it finally came to a stop, Megan was upside down with only her seatbelt holding her in place. She groaned and coughed hard to clear her lungs. Her ears were ringing something fierce and something wasn’t right with her right shoulder.

A quick glance showed the driver’s seat was empty. Brandon hadn’t been wearing a seat belt.

Gravel crunched under heavy boots and a bald head poked through the broken window. “A lot of people are lookin’ for you, Little Girl.”

And the world went black.