#new gif series incoming

[angelnicknelson]

every heartstopper hug -> 1x02: elle, charlie, isaac, tao

[kirsty--cotton]

"Nica"

CHUCKY | S02E04: Death On Denial

[himegureisu]

calls pt.2

Author's Note: I present to you all part two.

< calls pt. 1

“Where are you?”

His voice in short huffs came through the speaker as soon as he answered your call. In a haze, a medic brought you to the side and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. Your body trembled in response to the situation you’d been in.

“Just give me a location, baby,” he pleaded, eyes scanning the crowd for your physique, “I’m already here. I’ll come get you,”

“Outside the entrance, by the shrubbery,” you breathed out, barely could hold the tears in, and cracked, “Aaron, I need you,”

“I know, baby, I’m on my way,”

His movements rushed through the crowd almost frantic as you started to cry on the other side of the line. Your short breaths and hiccups increased but the moment strong familiar muscular arms picked you up from the curb the incoming panic attack subsided.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, arms tight around you. His scent and presence were the calm after the storm, “You’re okay. I’m here,”

“I was so scared,” you cried. His shirt was drenched in your tears as his started to fall upon the sight of you unharmed, “I forgot everything you told me. I’m sorry,”

“What matters is that you’re here in one piece, okay?” he stripped himself of his jacket, placed it on your shoulders, and handed over the blanket to the nearest EMT, “We can go home when you’re ready,”

In front of you, he knelt and wiped your tears as you gathered yourself together. Just waiting. Once you could breathe normally, you tiredly leaned against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming you amidst the chaos.

“I love you,” you whispered, and he sighed, placing a small kiss on your forehead, “I love you too,”

“Let’s go home,” you said softly, he nodded and supported you as you made a move to stand, “Let’s go home,”

------------------——— 🔎------------------------—

In the morning tangled between the sheets, he’d laid on top of you. Your steady heartbeat was a balm for his frayed nerves but neither of you was able to sleep until the dawn broke out the horizon.

This tranquility broken in just an hour when his phone rang.

“Should I answer your phone?” you asked. His deep sleep-addled voice rumbled a barely coherent response but affirmed that you could, “Okay,”

“Aaron Hotchner’s phone. This is …” you introduced yourself.

There was a period of silence before a series of excitable giggles, squeals, and gasps came over. They take a deep breath and compose themselves before speaking to you.

“Good morning. We’re sorry to disturb you, but I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau from his team, the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” JJ politely greeted, as Penelope contained her squeals. We know that Hotch left for an emergency, but is there any chance you could convince him to come to follow us on our new case? We need his insight.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure to pass on the message,” you gently stroked his hair, faint snores escaped his lips as he slept soundly, “We had a rough night so I make no promises when or if he’ll come in,”

“That’s okay and we’re sorry for disturbing you,” JJ answered gratefully, as Morgan shushed Penelope and you assured them, “It’s okay he’ll call you for updates later,”

“Thank you. It was good talking to you.” JJ smiled, and unconsciously you did as well, “You too,”

------------------——— 🔎------------------------—

“Are you coming home in time for dinner?”

His smile made its’ appearance the moment he could hear the sizzle of the pan. Those awake in the cabin, namely Emily and Reid, horribly feigned disinterest in the conversation.

“For once, I will, yes,” he answered, staring at the passing clouds outside the window, “What’s cooking?”

“Your favorite for a job well done,” your smiles bloom. His dimples showed and a light tinge on his cheeks had Emily nudging JJ awake, “And me for dessert,”

He sighed.

“Baby, don’t do that to me,” he whispered, why were you such a tease? “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,”

Tags Requested: @aaronhotchnersworld, @burningsongtimemachine, @lillisummers @charmedkim @acn128 @kodzukenie333 @wittygutsy @saint-marvel

[genericpuff]

And so the titan finally falls.

Its corpse will be hung on display for the public's gawking until August 29th, after which it will be sent into the lockup known as Daily Pass, where completed series go to die.

Okay, all jokes aside though, this day was always coming so if you're unfamiliar with Daily Pass, here's the gist of how it works:

Any Originals series completed on Webtoons is eligible to go into their Daily Pass library. Any income made from this system is, theoretically, meant to go to the creator, but I say theoretically because we don't know what the split is between creators and WT's, and if there's any sort of Minimum Revenue Threshold shenanigans like with FastPass that would prevent a creator from receiving their share. That said, there are creators who have confirmed that Daily Pass is meant to help creators profit off their works after they're completed, so we at least know that.

As for how Daily Pass works:

Once behind Daily Pass, the majority of episodes (save for the first several episodes to give people enough content to get hooked on) are re-locked and only available under any of the three following conditions:

a.) Once per day you get one Daily Pass ticket per Daily Pass series to unlock any locked episode from that respective series. Meaning if you spend a Daily Pass ticket on Lore Olympus, you don't get another ticket to use for Lore Olympus for the day, but you'll still have a ticket to use for any other series you haven't unlocked yet that day. Ticket unlocks remain unlocked for 14 days, after which the episode will be locked again;

b.) If you have already spent your one Daily Pass ticket on a series you're reading but you REALLY want to read more episodes and don't want to wait until tomorrow, you will have the option to either pay for episodes with coins (which, unlike the Daily Pass ticket, is a permanent unlock) or use Ad Pass on eligible episodes (this is a temporary unlock like the Daily Pass ticket, but is only applied for THREE DAYS unlike the 14 you get from the Daily Pass ticket);

c.) Any episodes you FastPassed from a series original run are permanently unlocked, so if you were someone who paid for episode unlocks of LO every week, then congrats! None of those previous qualifications apply to you and you can re-read the series to your heart's content! You win at Daily Pass!

Now if you got through all that and are now thinking, "why is this so confusing???" don't worry, you're not alone! Readers fucking hate this system! I can't wrap my head around how it's in any way profitable for the creators when the people who are willing to pay for it ALREADY FUCKING PAID AND DON'T HAVE TO PAY AGAIN and the people who AREN'T willing to pay for it probably didn't see it as worth paying for the first time around when the comic was still new and updating - so why in the world would they pay for it NOW when they could just use Daily Pass tickets once per day when they were already willing to wait each WEEK for free unlocks?

Granted, the coin cost on Daily Pass series are usually lowered to accommodate the fact that they're completed, but the reality is that many Webtoon readers are already pretty reserved when it comes to spending coins on the app. This is largely due to WT's demographic being predominantly made up of teenagers and children, and while that can make for great viewing metrics, it's not so great in turning around a profit, because kids and teens don't typically have disposable income to spend on webcomics, let alone disposable income that has to be paid through an app store which typically requires credit cards/Paypal/etc.

The bitter irony is that the audience that has the most time to burn on the app also have the least amount of money to go around. So oftentimes - at least from what I've observed after using the app for years - readers will often be VERY picky with what they put their coins towards. Which begs the question again but in a different light - why in the world would someone choose to spend coins from their limited allowance on the app on a completed series that was once available to read for free and technically still can be read for free through ads and Daily Pass tickets?

I realize I'm digressing quite a bit, but all of what I'm going off about is already being reflected in the reactions I've seen from fans of LO who aren't excited to see it go behind Daily Pass (at least, the part of the audience that's been informed, god knows there will be a huge chunk of people asking where tf LO went after it goes behind DP lmao). Daily Pass in and of itself is just a crappy, inconvenient way to re-read completed comics. Even if you opt to do the Daily Pass ticket system, that's still essentially turning the act of re-reading comics into a chore, as it restricts you from binge-reading episodes which you typically would want to do with a series that's already been completed. The concept of new episodes every day might sound appealing as it's more frequent than the original once-a-week schedule, but in practice, it can often have the opposite effect of ruining the reading experience by turning it into a daily task rather than a pass-time the reader can freely participate in at their own pace.

All that said, it will definitely be interesting to see how LO does once it goes behind that Daily Pass wall. I think at best it will probably see an influx of traffic in the coming weeks from the people who either want to re-read it one more time, or the people who never finished it in the first place and see this as motivation to do so (and yes, if you haven't finished LO yourself yet, absolutely do so if you want to see for yourself how it ends BEFORE it becomes an inconvenience LOL). After that though, it'll probably be entirely on the physical copies to drive future sales, but those are a long way away from being completed.

When all is said and done, August 29th will mark the true end of the LO era of Webtoons. If the series finale was a funeral, then this is the moment we set its ashes adrift in the sea and say our final goodbyes.

It certainly was a hell of a ride. The good, the bad, and the absolutely insufferable.

[carolmunson]

caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?” 

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.” 

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.” 

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff. 

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.” 

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.”  The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt. 

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset. 

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?”  "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face. 

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.” 

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.” 

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.” 

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.” 

“I haven’t even told Steve.” 

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?” 

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth.  “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.” 

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.” 

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?” 

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

prev | next

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

quick note: i love all the reblogs/feedback and that you're all enjoying this as much as i am <3 and a huge thank you to @swiftispunk for being the best and looking over the first chapter for me, i am completely scatter-brained and forgot to mention this when i posted last monday, so tysm han and pls go check her out if you haven't! & follow my fic update blog (@pedgitos) and turn on post notifications so you don't miss any updates/posted fics!

Chapter Summary: Settling in is easier than you expect, but it does come with a fair share of challenges. A week filled with getting to know one another and some moments shared, your week doesn't end on the best note, leaving you with a choice.

Chapter Warnings: (8k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, domestic shenanigans, Joel being naturally assertive, cooking dinner together, reading is good at encouraging Joel, one hot tub & two stubborn individuals, also...one bed trope incoming

You wake up refreshed, like you’ve been born with a new reverence for life—alright, it might be a bit of an overstatement but it’s a wonder what a decent night of sleep could do and you’re feeling that this idea, playing house with a stranger—though it wasn’t much like that anymore—wasn’t the worst choice. And it reminds you of Joel, having left him in the chair last night, not wanting to burden him but you can only imagine the ache in his bones, his back, the discomfort of sleeping in a chair all night. 

You lay for a moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The morning sunshine wasn’t strong here, blanketed out by a stark white snow that covered the ground, it muted out most colors and left a cool, but bright blue that shined through the window above your bed. 

It was peaceful. No cars, no buzz of strong electricity outside your window, people and their idle conversation a few floors down from your apartment window. Not even a bird, really. But, there’s a distinct clearing of a throat from the living room that has you stirring in bed, rising lazily as you move with the same enthusiasm. 

It was a fresh week. The first official week of your vacation and you were going to start it off on a good note, clambering out of the bed and slipping on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toes from freezing off, not bothering to glance in a mirror on the way out—not that you needed to, it didn’t matter. It was early, you were still trying to shed the sleep from your body and you could care less. Plus, it wasn’t like an old t-shirt and sleep shorts was some foreign concept. 

When you peek around the corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, you can spot Joel’s head tilting to one side, hand kneading at the taut muscle in the center of his back where his neck starts to begin and then you’re stuck watching as he stretches his arms out wide, working out all of those muscles. Every single one. And you’ve been silent for far too long.

Yeah.

Clearing your throat softly, you approach from behind and keep your distance, announcing your presence like you hadn’t been lingering for a minute or two already. 

“Morning,” You greet politely, resting your weight against the edge of the island, taking in full view of a freshly awoken Joel, eyes still puffy from sleep.

He looks very…gentle. Surprisingly, so. It softens his rigid demeanor significantly and you have to silently talk yourself out of glaring at him for too long, “I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry.”

Jeez—you two are getting good at that. Apologizing, afraid to step on each other’s toes. 

“Not your fault,” Joel massages his bicep with the heavy pressure of his thumb, looking slightly pained as he rolls his shoulders, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Yeah, but I forced you to stay up, so—”

“You didn’t,” Joel quickly shuts you down, “I’m a grown man,” there’s a laugh hidden somewhere in there, but Joel continues, “don’t blame yourself for my own irresponsibility.”

It’s too early for this. You force on a fake smile, void of any real emotion at this hour, running on fumes and the smell of coffee. Speaking of—you sniff, eyes searching for the smell like a dog would track a scent, and Joel is already pointing in the direction you should be looking for when your eyes land on him.

“I already finished it off on my own,” Joel admits, pointedly taking another long sip before resting the mug back on the counter, “I can get another pot goin’ if you need it.”

There’s an inclination to let him, seeing him assert himself so easily and offer, but you shake your head, “I think I can handle a coffee maker,” You assure him, meandering around the kitchen in search of the coffee grounds, ignoring Joel’s tracking of your movements, waiting for a moment to interject and point you in the right direction. You spot them a moment before the urge comes with a soft aha!

“I needed to make a drive into town,” Joel tells you after you’ve gone through the steps of starting your own batch of coffee, “pick up some more food, figured you might wanna tag along.”

He’s not asking, only assuming. But to be fair, his assumption is right. 

“Sure,” You reply cooly, pouring yourself a hefty cup of coffee to sip on, letting your body take hold of the caffeine, “...how far away is the closest town?”

“Hour and a half.” Joel answers and you almost have the nerve to go wide-eyed on him, but then you remember just how deep into the woods you both were and that it was necessary.

Truthfully, there was a more concerning matter at hand.

“How’s your music taste?” 

Joel has the gall to look offended by the question.

“I’m leavin’ in thirty,” Joel ignores you, “don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave you here.”

Okay, noted: Joel wasn’t much the morning person you assumed he was.

-

Joel immediately realizes how little disregard you have for touching things that aren’t yours when you reach for the makeshift box of cassettes tapes placed in the backseat of his truck—the thing was old, riding on it’s last leg, but it was something Joel would cherish until it was unsalvageable, torn seats, dents, and all.

“Ain’t gonna find anything you like in there,” Joel assures you, “None of that pop stuff they’re always playin’ on the radio these days.”

The tables turn on him suddenly, seeing your face contort into a similar emotion that he gave you earlier. Bewilderment, shock, annoyance. You scoff at the comment.

“Says you,” You retort back, sifting through the different cassettes until you find Joel trading glances between you and the road in front of him, almost worried you might chuck his collection out of the passenger side window, “Joel, eyes on the road.”

Joel enjoys a lot of country, which isn’t a total disbelief. But, it wasn’t something you shared the sentiment on, flicking away a handful of country artists you’ve never listened to and reaching some of the good stuff—older rock music, some classic 80s, and late 90s.

You pluck one out carefully, prying open the cassette case with gentle hands before sliding the tape in, allowing the low hum of the music to fill the car. There’s a brief moment of respite before Joel smirks to himself, thumb tapping against the steering wheel.

“What were you saying?” You look at him pointedly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Joel looks away briefly, biting back a chuckle, “Fine—I’ll give you some credit. Foo Fighters aren’t terrible, but you skipped right over Bruce Springsteen, so…”

You scoff in disbelief, “You don’t get to criticize me with that atrocious collection of country music,” You stare down at the box in thought, eyes brimming with a mischievous that Joel knows of immediately, he’s seen it before. Not with you, but he knows, “you know, maybe I should just do you a favor and—”

You can barely get a hand on the window roller before Joel’s hand is gripped tight over the box, trapping your other hand in his grip as he warns, “I’m not above leavin’ you stranded in the cold.”

Your grin is nothing but evil and Joel finds that there’s something about you that infuriates him in a way that is hard to describe, not in anger or rage, but a level that he thinks he could match. A game of back and forth that he could play into—but you’re quickly relenting regardless of the threat and placing the box on the floorboard.

“Already tried that,” You retort, “didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Fair is fair. Joel doesn’t poke the beast.

Instead, he takes the chance to ask a question.

“So, what exactly was your plan?” Joel asks curiously. “You comin’ out here with no car and all?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Didn’t really have one, but I would have figured it out.”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, subtly resembling a face of disapproval.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, okay?” You don’t wait for a response, “You can have whatever assumptions you want about me, but don’t try and act like you know anything about me.”

It was another reminder. Joel didn’t know you, but you didn’t know him either. You reign your frustration in slightly, quick to defend yourself but aware that not everyone handles confrontation in the same way—if Joel was quick to anger, you didn’t want to stoke the fire. 

“I’m not,” Joel argues, his voice calmer than you expect, thinking back to the saddled rage his voice held the night you arrived, the threat that lingered with every word, “I’m not, alright?”

“Then stop that.” You comment, waving your hand in a vague motion toward his face, “Stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?” Joel interjects, eyes more pensive as he looks over at you.

“Like—like I need a fucking lecture on life or my choices,” You tell him, a hint of pleading in your voice, “I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand how life works.”

“You’re not a kid—” 

“Good, great that we established that,” You lean back in the seat more comfortably, arms crossed over your chest as you keep your eyes on the snow covered road, “now shut up so I can enjoy the music.”

Thankfully, Joel does just that.

-

Conversation falls flat until you arrive at the store in town a while later, Joel fetching a cart and pushing it your way before he stops you suddenly, hand over your own again—a touch that normally you would flinch away from, but he’s already done it once before and the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“I’ll catch up,” Joel tells you, “I forgot somethin’ in the car.”

You glance back briefly, knowing that the walk isn’t that far. 

“Oh, I can wait. It’s fine.”

Joel doesn’t say so much, but the look in his eyes goes a long way. A silent plea for you to go with it and don’t ask questions—again, you didn’t have any right to. You nod quickly and wander off toward the store as Joel trails away.

It’s then when your phone starts to vibrate away in your pocket, the sudden availability of service sending a barrage of notifications your way—you’re terrified to take a glimpse, but you do anyway. It should be no surprise to bear witness to the many, many texts from your mother wondering where you’d run off to, but there’s a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach.

You send her a quick, dismissive text to explain that you were fine and enjoying your time, but no elaboration on the things she wanted to know, because really, there was nothing to tell. And if you did decide to expel the details of your trip, mentioning that there was no boyfriend and it was just a stranger you met in the middle of the woods, well…that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

You also find a quick, heated moment of frustration to send an unpleasant text to the owners of the cabin, still polite enough that it wouldn’t warrant your ability to work things out—and you decide that calling would reach them faster, that somehow they’d magically find a way to appear and fix things, but there’s no answer. Only a voicemail that gave vague details about being away on their own vacation.

Just your luck.

Great. You sigh deeply, shoving the phone away into your pocket and returning to the land of obliviousness as you step inside the small market.

You fend for yourself for a while, throwing several random necessities in the cart as you go, enough sustenance to spread over four weeks and manage meals the entire trip, also a few more bottles of alcohol don’t hurt, looking for a few hard liquors that catch your eye and adding them to the growing supply of items. 

You’re lost in concentration of the ingredients on the back of a box dinner when Joel’s voice startles you back to the real world, eyes jumping up to look at him and he spots the panic immediately.

He nods slightly when you recognize him, “Sorry, keep forgettin’ how jumpy you are.”

“You’re just ridiculously fucking quiet,” You tell him, breathing out a long sigh as you toss the box into the cart, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel assures, doesn’t elaborate. Okay, cool. You weren’t going to pry, no matter how much your instincts told you to. He scans the cart casually, “Mind tradin’ off?”

You lend him the lead and follow, watching as he pointedly finds things, like he’s reading off a list in his head and moves around the store with a purpose. It’s only slightly annoying that you have to keep pace with him, but he’s suddenly speaking out to you as he’s glancing over something on the bottom shelf, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” You responded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Why?”

“Grab some of that fresh rosemary,” Joel says, pointing out somewhere behind you and you whip around, eyes searching furiously and coming up empty, “—find it?”

You’re a little dumbfounded as you search the shelf of fresh herbs, Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you as he reaches over your shoulder and plucks the exact thing he’s looking for with ease, “Hey, I had the right idea.” You defend, noticing how amused he looked at your befuddlement, “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

“Well,” He tosses the small, plastic package in the cart, still tucked up at your side and you can feel his body heat, the solid wall of his chest against your shoulder, “don’t like the idea of accidentally killin’ you if I cook something you’re allergic to.”

“Well, what if I’m lying?” You challenge and Joel shoves you aside gently to grab the cart, hands on your shoulder as he shifts you away—and when had things gotten so…touchy?

Truthfully, Joel finds it easier than telling you, noting how quickly you quiet down when he asserts himself and does rather than asks. He knows if it made you uncomfortable you wouldn’t have had a problem speaking up immediately. 

“Look at me,” And there’s a deep timbre to his voice that has your chest sparking like a fire, eyes connecting with Joel’s for longer than you’ve ever allowed and it’s like he sees right through you, but he’s searching for something, “—you’re not lyin’.”

“But, if I was?”

Joel nearly leaves you in the dust, but turns to look at you with a subtle grin.

“Well, now I know you’re not.”

–

The ride back is easier, much easier—and Joel doesn’t fault you when you fall asleep halfway through, the heat of the car and the low hum of the music like a perfect mix as you curl in on yourself. Joel wakes you with a gentle hand on your shoulder when you finally make it back, allowing you a moment to shake the grogginess away with a word over his shoulder as he opens his door.

“Careful over that patch of ice on your side,” Joel instructs, “gettin’ colder so it’s slicker than it was a couple days ago.”

Careful. You roll your eyes carelessly, nudging the door open with your shoulder and hopping out, boots hitting the hard ground—your first mistake was underestimating the slickness and Joel’s warning, because the moment you take your first step it’s all downhill. Literally.

Luckily though, like a moment of divine faith as you pray that you don’t hit the ground, Joel is right at your back, arms slipping under your own as he plants his feet firmly and catches you. One arm crossing somewhere over your midsection and the other wrapping around your shoulder, a large palm holding you steady as he helps you back to your feet. You can feel him on the brink of making a comment, eyes looking down tenderly into your own—

“Don’t ask.” You warn him bitterly, face scrunched up like a kicked puppy, shrugging him off lazily. Joel doesn’t argue, making sure you’re steady before he allows you himself to fully let go.

Joel shakes his head subtly, a nuisance of his, and rounds the back of the truck to reach for the bagged groceries, “Fine, I’ll just say I told you so then. How’s that?”

Worse. 

-

Joel never asks for help, doesn’t even seem bothered when you stand there aimlessly, watching him stow away the groceries like he already had a game plan and you feel slightly useless, but it does give you a good opportunity to watch without any explicit reason or excuse. 

There’s an obvious purpose to Joel’s movement, clear that he’s used to doing a lot of heavy lifting and keeping up, probably prefers organization over clutter, and has a certain inclination to do things himself, always. And you can’t help the way your gaze clings to his face, noticing something a little off—not good or bad, just slightly different. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but with the extended amount of time your eyes lingered on him, you realize he’s cleaned up a bit, shaved his beard down to near stubble, a subtle difference…but you notice.

You’re not sure how long you’re stuck in this state, arms resting against the counter as you stood there, practically useless, thinking about what Joel looks like on a regular basis, when he isn’t cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter. You want to see that side of him, crave it. It’s an insane thought that doesn’t make sense, eyes widening suddenly at the realization of the thought you’re having—

“You still with me?” Joel’s voice calls out in the haze, muffled slightly as you come back into focus, eyes landing on him. “Think I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh—no. I mean, yeah. I’m still a little tired, I guess.” It’s a bold face lie, but Joel seems to believe you. “Why?”

“I was sayin’ I need to go chop up some wood for the fireplace,” He explains again, “then you went all wide eyed…”

“Oh, okay,” You nod jerkily, “...do you need help?”

Joel immediately declines. No surprise there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel suggests, “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Sleep sounds great, but it doesn’t happen. 

You try—you do, but the splitting of wood, the strong crack of the axe catching the wood outside of your bedroom window, it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. So, you find yourself wandering into the kitchen, peeking between the curtains with a wild curiosity that reminds you of when you were younger and trying to catch a peek of the cute boy next door, a bashfulness replaced with a deep, insatiable hunger that you didn’t know existed until this moment. 

Joel was attractive, you could easily admit that. But, seeing him now, it’s a done deal. There was a deep pit of despair in your mind and you were stuck at the bottom with no way out.

It’s almost abysmal how easy he makes it look, the axe he’d brandish as his weapon of choice against you swung over his shoulders, the unfortunate lack of skin stretching over taut muscles as he went through the motions, covered up by thick layers. But, you get the idea. 

There’s a slight pout forming on your face before you catch yourself.

He slices full power through the wood like it was eager to give way to him. You also find that his face tugs up in a scowl after every swing of the axe, a soft sigh of exerted energy as he tosses the logs to the side and starts up again. You could watch for hours. But, you settle for the few more minutes he spends collecting the wood before you’re scrambling back into your bedroom like you had been there the entire time.

Unfortunately, Joel isn’t oblivious. Still, he spares you the embarrassment. 

There was no reason for him to entertain whatever he thought might be going on. He couldn’t.

-

The next few days are uneventful, though that was to be expected. It allows you time to really settle in, usually curled up on the couch watching the fire crackle away until you thought your eyes might melt away, or reading a book that Joel always seemed to be trying to catch a peek at. There was an innocent curiosity there that you could appreciate.

You also learned that Joel only took his coffee one way, offering up your services to refill his cup while you refilled your own, sugar lingering over the rim and he’s quickly pushing away the small container of crystalized goodness. 

“Joel, come on–” You grimace but relent, placing the cylinder of sugar on the counter.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Is all he offers, almost challenging you to take a sip.

You accept, obviously. But, it isn’t without consequence.

The moment the bitterness hits your tongue you’re scrambling away, forcing the mug into Joel’s waiting hands and spitting out whatever putrid liquid remained in your mouth in the sink.

It’s the first time Joel actually laughs, a full on chuckle that isn’t very receptive on your end.

Joel apologizes with dinner that night, a gesture that wasn’t expected or needed, still you’re thankful nonetheless. But, it offers you the realization of just how good a cook Joel can be.

Steaks grilled to a perfection that only came with repetitive practice and learned techniques, vegetables sautéed and seasoned to an enjoyable level, and a side of pasta that if Joel told you he made from scratch, you would’ve believed wholeheartedly if you hadn’t seen him dump the entire box of pre-made pasta into a pot of boiling water.

You’re halfway through dinner, chewing thoughtfully on a bite when you finally break the long, but comfortable silence that had blanketed over you both.

“So, Joel,” There’s a tone to his name that catches his attention, eyes flicking up to meet yours mid-bite, “what do you do for work?”

At this point, your nosey tendencies take hold.

There’s a scrunch to Joel’s nose before he speaks, almost as if he considered feeding you a lie alongside the beautiful meal he’d made. He settles for a simple answer.

“Uh, carpentry.” Joel tells you after a long pause, “I—build stuff for people, businesses sometimes.”

That explains some of his sturdiness, his practiced strength that came from, probably, years of hard constructive work and building. It also explains why he’s also working away at his hands, rubbing out the stiff joints and knuckles.

“I know what carpentry is, Joel.” You deadpan, but there’s a playfulness lingering in your voice. 

You assume he’s used to explaining himself often, which is why he forces it on you so easily.

“And you?” Joel asks suddenly, “College? You’re about that age, right?”

You snort softly at the tone he offers, slightly patronizing, but all in good fun.

“I’m taking a semester off,” You answer indifferently, remembering how disappointed your parents had been about the ordeal, but you were suffocating, “I’m not sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel assures, “can’t fault you either. Never went to college so I don’t have an opinion on it.”

There’s no judgment on your end, but for the sake of conversation, you bite.

“Any reason?” You ask curiously, wondering if you'd receive the similar sentiment that it’s all just bullshit.

“Didn’t have the money,” Joel answers simply, “didn’t have the grades, either. I thought I could start my own business out of carpentry, but…”

But…you lean into the table slightly, hanging on his words.

“You need a lot of money for that,” Joel finishes, “and, I mean, I’m livin’ comfortable now, but that idea took a lot of money that I didn’t and still don’t have.”

“So, you waste it on month long vacations in the middle of the woods,” You surmise humorously, nodding in approval, “can’t say I blame you, either.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, chewing around a bite as he speaks, “Your turn.”

Right. An eye for eye. A question for a question. He's watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give a response to the same question you asked him. 

“Oh—I work out of this bookstore in downtown Austin.” You admit, finishing up the last few bites of your food, scraping the plate nearly clean. “It pays the bills and then some. I like it.”

There’s no compliment needed for the food, all the evidence of it gone. But, you feel the need to appreciate it anyways.

“Thanks for this, Joel.” You speak again, softer this time. 

“It’s no big deal, darlin’.” Joel assures you, holding up his hands in a feeble defense at the compliment, clearly something he doesn’t welcome easily. “Just food.”

“It’s been...months,” You tell him, “since I’ve had any type of home-cooked meal. Take the damn thank you, Joel.” 

He smirks at that, seeing the threatening fork raise before you utter those final words.

“You’re welcome.”

And he means it.

–

You force Joel to stay seated while you clean, knowing it was the least you could do after he spent so much time preparing and cooking dinner. There’s a solid few minutes of arguing before you have to physically shove Joel back into his chair despite his protests, hands pressed into his shoulders as you threateningly speak down to him.

 “If you move, I’m locking your ass out in the cold.”

Joel wouldn’t mind, but you’re silently hoping that he’ll just listen.

After all is done, tossing the damp washcloth to the side, you sigh with a newfound relaxation.

There’s only one thing that might top off this night, making it almost the first perfect day here.

“That’s it, I’m getting in the hot tub,” You decide, squeezing tenderly at the tense muscles of your neck, thankful that the owners had a small alcove connected to the cabin that allowed for you to enjoy the hot tub from the safety of the cold, “join me?”

You’re not sure what inclines you to ask so openly, but you don’t second guess it.

“While I appreciate the offer,” Joel starts, “I don’t think I brought the proper…attire.”

He’s still seated where you had him planted and it makes you laugh softly at the idea that he was taking it seriously, which—yeah, you did threaten the possibility of hypothermia on him. 

“Fine,” You relent, rounding the corner of the island closest to him as you quickly call out over your shoulder, “but, there’s still a couple of chairs in there if you need the company.”

He didn’t need just anyone’s either and didn’t need, so much as wanted.

He wanted your company.

A while later, you’re already waist deep in the hot tub, figure hugging white bikini tied back securely, arms resting against the side furthest from the door as you press your chin against your forearms and staring out the wall of vast windows that line the room, allowing a view of the snow storm outside, coming down in a flurry that seemed to only be gaining in strength—and Joel, well, he’s still sitting in that stupid chair.

He’s allowed himself too much time in his own head, thinking over the events of the past few days. His call to Sarah was pleasant, a much needed moment of peace when he hears his daughter’s bright, hyper voice on the other end. When he doesn’t have her for the holidays, it’s hard. The calls are sparse, the communication is clipped, and it feels like he’s being forced away from her, knowing that she’s growing older every day. That he is growing older.

He’s allowed a lot of his life to slip away, when he wasn’t working to pay bills and put food on the table he was usually drinking, bar-hopping with Tommy at his old age to hide the pain he felt everyday, mentally and physically. There’s a problem brewing under his skin, using the company of his brother and alcohol to cope with loss he feels so viscerally everyday. The life he could’ve had.

He feels pitiful, miserable—only took this damn trip to get out of town by the suggestion of Tommy, away from all distractions, hoping for a refresh to clear his head. But instead, he met you.

He had no clue what the fuck to do anymore.

Joel’s never processed emotions well, feelings or anything thereof. 

But, here he was, lusting after you. 

He knows it’s the excitement, the taboo idea around sharing something special with a stranger. Someone who knows nothing about you, someone who doesn’t have the leverage to judge. Someone who doesn’t have to know about all the wrongs he’s committed and bad choices he’s made. 

You’re not privy to the fucked up version of Joel that belongs in his hometown, cooped up in his childhood home that he inherited from his parents, filled with too many now painful memories that he’d made with Sarah when she was younger—when he still had her.

He can’t help the way his mind races every single second of the day, constantly worrying, always trying to busy himself with something, anything to keep that lingering cloud of anxiety away. But, when he thinks about you, even something so mundane as the way you squint to get a closer look at a paragraph of the book you���ve probably read a thousand times, his mind goes quiet. 

Because, frankly, he’s fascinated by the idea of you. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t actually real. He’s halfway leaning toward the idea that he’s had a full mental break and this is all an illusion he’s cooked up in his head, but then he reminds himself that you are just as full a human as himself. There is a reason for this, even if there had to be some other force at play. 

Maybe you needed this as badly as he did.

A fresh start, no judgment.

And that’s why he decides to follow you, the moment he catches a glimpse of you as you turn the corner to take the steps down into the room that connected to the kitchen, a full glimpse of skin and body that he’s tried to keep his mind off of, despite how openly you stare at him.

There has to be something there. He can’t have imagined all of this.

You feel his presence when the creak of wood gives him away, one hand shoved into his front pocket and his other arm helping him stay upright as he leaned against the doorframe. The steam billows and settles like a cloud over the bubbling hot tub but does nothing to hide how see-through your bathing top is and the slick slope of your breasts, his eyes trailing down toward the small bow that was sewn to the midpoint of your top and know he’s staring at your chest, very openly—Joel’s immediately regretting his choice.

Your eyes follow his but you dare not speak, afraid to startle him.

Now who was the jumpy one?

“Change your mind?” You ask curiously, shimming the expanse of the hot tub as you grab onto the opposite ledge, resuming your previous position, closer to Joel now. If you reached out you could touch the edge of his flannel and soak the trim, maybe even pull him closer, but you resist the urge. “It feels amazing. I’m serious.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get him in, but it wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t respond, eyes staring at the soft wave of the water as it hits your side, his posture rigid. 

Maybe you’d broken him.

“Joel,” You call out with a soft nudge to his thigh, as far as you could reach with your fingertips, cutting into his line of sight, offering a friendly smile, “just strip down to your underwear and get in.”

“I don’t think—”

Oh, for christ sake. 

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you weren’t at least thinking about enjoying the benefits of the hot tub,” You argue, “so stop being grumpy and strip. I won’t even look.”

It shouldn’t sound as gritty as it does, a playful venom in your tone as you sink back slightly.

It makes Joel feel like he’s back in high school, flirting with who would eventually be his ex-wife and mother of his daughter, but there’s an assertiveness that intrigues Joel, your willingness to put yourself out there without fear. Take a leap, a jump, and hope that someone will catch you. 

Joel caught you, he just needed someone to catch him.

You spot his fidgeting, the wheels and cogs in his mind turning and he just needs that shove.

Just enough.

You rise over the edge, palms pressed flat to bear your weight and squeeze your breasts together, belly button nearly level with the water as you’re close enough to see the fine details of his face, giving him a look that Joel couldn’t deny.

“Get. In.” You stress the words, making direct eye contact. “You can thank me later.”

Finally, he moves. 

You sink back slightly into the pool and wade the water until you hit a corner, watching briefly as Joel works away at the buttons on his flannel, quiet air filling with an unspoken tension. You try to busy yourself with the view outside, something that didn’t require you to look in the vicinity of Joel for a second, knowing that the moment felt more intimate than it needed to. But, it doesn’t stop that sparse glances over your shoulder to check on him, now barefoot and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the fabric pulling and obscuring your view of his face and his view of you, staring so starkly at him in that moment.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. The freckles that speckle his shoulders, nearly invisible from this distance because of his tanned shoulders and the unevenness of the tan as it continues down his arm, varying in shades of intensity, undoubtedly from hours of working in the sun. There’s also a smaller patch of hair on his chest that with his short cropped beard, seems to be trimmed down too. His strong build doesn’t throw you off, though—solid muscle that flexed across his stomach as he yanked his shirt a little harder to get it over his head fully, not built in a way that rippled down his abdomen, but showed a sturdiness to his figure that had your body humming to a tune that reached down to your core, thighs squeezing together under the water. 

Joel passes the shirt off into a waiting arm chair, clothes slowly piling on the cushion alongside your towel and he pops the button on his jeans, still unaware of your…innocent observation. But, the moment the jeans stretch over his thighs you swallow a little too hard and you’re immediately averting your eyes when he looks up briefly. 

Like you’d been caught. 

Joel clears his throat like a warning, as if he hadn’t felt your eyes on him the entire time, and swings a leg over carefully, a view of the black briefs that molded to his skin perfectly and hugged his backside in a way that feels criminally illegal…and you’re staring again.

He hisses at the sudden change in temperate, but inch by inch he lowers and adjusts, eventually huffing out a low groan, eyes closed, when he finally settles on the seat inside of the tub.

Suddenly, this felt like a terrible idea.

“See?” You break the revered silence for him, “Worth it?”

“Almost forgot how you just bullied me in here.” He jokes—full on fuckin’ jokes before cracking an eye open to catch your reaction, a subtle look of disbelief on your face. “I’m kidding, darlin'.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the seat under the water and you smile, a half-hearted roll of your eyes thrown his way before you relax too, for a moment.

“This is so weird,” You speak softly, after a while, and Joel looks slightly puzzled as he opens his eyes fully now, perking up slightly as he adjusts himself, chest rising over the water slightly, his arms hanging over the ledge with his fingers gripping the ceramic—and you’re gaze is drifting again, mostly to his hands, but you mask it as you look away briefly, down the hall or out the window. Literally anywhere but Joel, “it’s just—not how I expected things to go.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Joel replies with an underlying amusement.

As the quiet settles, slowly drifting closer to one side, where you originally were when Joel came searching for you—voluntarily, he lingered and waited, waited for the push you gave him—Joel joined alongside you, burrowing himself in the closet corner nook and enjoying the view in silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Joel comments, “everything alright?”

Everything was fine and you couldn’t make complete sense out of it. The ability to be so inherently comfortable with someone you’ve only known for a little under a week, the attraction you felt despite your own rational thinking telling you otherwise, the urge to connect openly and without fear of judgment. It terrifies you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask quietly, “Like…a real question, not those superficial ones that we’ve thrown at each other.”

Joel doesn’t like the sound of it, but there’s also the inclination that he could feed you a total lie and you wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.

He nods, fist resting against his cheek as he turns to look at you and suddenly the pressure is on, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden, full attention.

“Earlier…you said you forgot somethin’ in the car,” Joel’s fist clenches unknowingly under the water, an instinct to bury his reaction, “I know it isn’t my business, but I was just curious what is was.”

Joel, against every fiber in his being that tells him to deflect, gives you a straight answer. It’s almost startling how easily it comes out, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest that he’s carried for years.

“I had to make a call,” Joel admits, “to uh—my daughter, she’s back home with her mom.”

Your brow pulls together in confusion, “Wait, are you married?”

Joel somehow amidst the heaviness of admitting his truth still laughs, quick to defend himself from your next question.

“Oh, not at all. Never, actually.” Joel responds, “We…I never married her mom, it was obvious pretty quickly we weren’t going to work well together.”

The answer is simpler than you expect, different too. Part of you wondered if he was pleading his own case to the owners and was just as unsuccessful as you, but this is much more vulnerable.

And despite your ability to lie, and his own, neither of you can force it.

You don’t pry further, feeling like it may push things too far. Too personal.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Do I scare you?” Joel asks suddenly, almost like he’s been anticipating the moment too.

You’re almost sure the expression you return makes you look insane, feeling the implication that he might, that he thinks—it’s so far left field that it throws you off.

“No—no,” You quickly reject any lingering doubt he has, “I mean…the first night, maybe. But, now…no.”

“Oh.” It’s all Joel can muster, unsure of why he was expecting a different answer. That you would say yes and whatever shroud of thought he had about this moment you were sharing was only out of fear, that you were just trying to be polite. 

“Look, I get jumpy because you sneak up on me,” You answer, “and you have this…presence about you,” Okay, not the best wording, “not scary or anything, just…strong.” Big, like a wall. Like, if anyone were to ever approach you wrongly, Joel would attack without question. And maybe the fact that he would do that should scare you, but instead, it entices you.

Joel sits with the implication, burdened by his own mind. 

You can see him lost in thought, speaking with a comforting surety, “Thank you…for telling me.”

The truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.

The next stretch of time, what feels like an hour, is spent in a comforting silence. You think Joel is nearly falling asleep but then he moves, make a comment about how the snow won’t let up and eventually you’re forcing yourself out of the hot tub, reaching over the side to snatch your towel and sending all of Joel’s clothes descending to the floor in the process and as if you had a death wish on Joel, your ass pops up at an angle that is physically impossible to look away from.

Joel is a gentleman, he swears. He was raised to respect and care and always put women first, but there’s a split second where he can’t pull his eyes away, feels like he’s just caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have, but then you’re turning your head over your shoulder and you definitely catch him—you could ruin the moment and say something or you could ignore it.

Fortunately, you save Joel some embarrassment, covering it with a sly smile as you apologize for dropping his clothes and take the final step out and wrap the towel around your body.

“Shit,” You quickly realize that in the midst of your pushing Joel to join you that he didn’t have a towel, “stay here—I’ll go grab you a towel.”

Joel wasn’t eager to move anyways, admittedly. Sporting half a hard-on under the water, he wouldn’t subject himself to the scrutiny of your gaze or what implications it would make, thinking every horrible possible thought to will it away—luckily your timing is perfect. 

You quickly gather his dropped clothes and pile them in the chair as you toss the towel his way, ignoring any and all chances to glimpse at his wet body, back turned as you quickly excuse yourself away in fear of the idea that you might say something unforgettably stupid.

-

The walk to your separate bedroom is quick, swift, like a desperately needed escape. 

But, as fate would have it, the moment you open the door and wretch the towel away from your body there’s a loud pop! to your left and a spark on the outside that has you halfway on the floor and slamming into the wall out of both shock and an attempt to shield yourself from whatever unseen force was at play, yelping out loud in the process.

From an outside perspective, you can understand why Joel doesn’t hesitate to come running.

He runs straight into your back, bare chest pressed against your know bare shoulders and leaving you half-dressed in front of him, scared out of your wits and willing to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep you upright—fortunately, Joel’s arm is the perfect anchor as your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes.

“What the hell?” Joel inquires, slightly out of breath as he searches your face for any signs of injury, “What happened?”

You both look at the culprit—the heated window unit that was no longer expelling heat, and while the cabin was still heated, it didn’t reach the bedrooms well enough that you weren’t shivering without some type of additional help. You sigh in frustration, eyes turning up towards the ceiling as you feel no shame, too frustrated to care as you lean into Joel’s chest.

“Shit.” It’s all Joel offers as a solution, not that you were expecting one. But, still, it would be nice.

“Yeah, shit.” You echo, pushing away from him suddenly to gather your damp towel and a change of clothes, padding your bare feet toward the living room, but Joel is grabbing your wrist before you get too far from him.

“Hey, woah,” He starts in a calmer tone, “you can take my room—I’ll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can get ahold of the owners, we’ll figure something out.”

“I already tried calling them,” You admit, “Earlier. Straight to voicemail and something tells me they won’t be answering their phones until after the holidays.”

Pulling away again, you continue your way toward the living room and gather a few pillows and blankets, tossing them on the larger couch beside the fireplace. Joel doesn’t seem to entertain the idea, following on your heels as he gathers each item you throw in that direction and you finally reach a point of full, unrestrained frustration. 

“Joel, cut the shit.”

“Take the room,” He offers as a counter, “I can sleep on the couch.”

With his back? Not a chance. But, he offers anyway.

“Fuck off,” You chuckle bitterly, “I’m not forcing you out of the bedroom.”

“Then it looks like we’re sharin’ the living room.”

You close your eyes, toss the blanket aside and breathe, clenching and unclenching your fists in an effort to not completely lose it on the man standing opposite of you.

Chivalry be damned, Joel wasn’t giving in.

Fine, two could play at that game.

“I’ll take the bed.” You quickly agree, but there’s a lingering ultimatum.

Joel waits, sees the thought brewing behind your pensive eyes.

“But, so will you.”

“Now—”

“No,” You interject, putting your figurative foot down, suddenly vividly reminded of your vulnerability as you stood there, still slightly damp and in a swimsuit that did nothing to cover your body—it was the reason Joel’s eyes were so pointedly stuck on your face, never lingering elsewhere, “either we both sleep in here on the couch or we share the bed.”

Joel’s hands shift to his hips, towel tight around his waist and you’re too annoyed to admire the way his muscles tense and flex with the movement, the underlying thickening desire settling beneath the surface.

You match his stance, daring him to challenge you.

A small part of you wants him too.

—

“Anyone ever told you you’re damn stubborn?” Joel asks, trailing behind you as you enter his bedroom, a clone of your own but with a small bathroom attached.

“All the time.” You answer truthfully. “I’m going to shower and sleep—no funny business.”

Meaning if Joel did sneak away into the living room to offer up the full amenities of his own room, he would feel your wrath tenfold.

Joel resigns to the idea and gathers his own pair of fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom down the hall, leaving you both to a moment of levity.

There’s no anticipation to the arrangement—but the idea is there, burrowing into the back of your mind. 

You’re sleeping with a stranger…someone you knew little to nothing about, but it was your choice. And you trusted your gut. 

Joel was safe, he was good. 

You relax under the spray of hot water, a different heat to the one you enjoyed just a while ago, the type that allowed your thoughts to roam, and you laugh softly at the sight of Joel’s shower supplies, knowing he was stuck with whatever you brought—it wasn’t something you thought about in the moment, but there’s a brief realization that he was sharing a moment similar to your own, scowling at the sight of your fruity scented body wash that you left on the shelf there. It wasn’t a huge deal, Joel wouldn’t fuss over it. 

But, it also lends your mind to roam more.

As if his bare chest wasn’t already at the forefront, and his eyes as they had stared at you so unabashed until the moment he was caught, all innocent looks with deeper intentions that invaded your mind like a plague.

You were so fucking frustrated—annoyed with him, the state of your life, this stupid vacation. With the suds gone and the water drowning out the silence you allow yourself one—just one moment of selfishness...

And as if the house was the biggest tattletale of them all, the floor creaks on the other side of the door.

“Joel?” You call out curiously, as if an intruder in the middle of nowhere was even likely.

There’s several seconds of silence before Joel finally answers.

“Yeah?”

“Your body wash sucks.” You goad lightly, hoping to ease the earlier frustration that had grown between you both, and while you can’t see him, you can hear his laughter on the other side of the door.

“Can’t say yours is any better.”

You smile to yourself, the way he responds with fondness that he tries to hide.

When you finish up and dress, peeking your head out before you move to open the door fully, Joel is already on his side, turned away. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be bothered. The small blanket of division rolled and wedged in the center of the bed like a barrier, a warning. 

Keep your distance and you both may manage to survive the rest of this vacation.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

[bella-goths-wife]

I wasn't sure initially but after reading them all I must admit I've enjoyed your Yandre Vs x pet posts and love Velvette in particular. Can you do something similar but just for Velvette? Either Yandre, she owns your soul or just an obsessive girlfriend (general neutral reader).

Yandere girlfriend velvette

Warnings: obsessive behaviour but not as bad as pet series, reader is an objectively bad person but in a the devil wears Prada way, ooc velvette?

This isn’t canon to the pet series and is a completely different au! So reader is not pet and is treated significantly better

First of all, you’d have to be something special for velvette to treat you as an equal, let alone develop a romantic relationship with

And you were definitely something special

You were a fashionista demon who died in the 2000s, but your death would not stop you from building an empire

You created unique clothing pieces that blended the fun and freeness of the previous generations with a fresh Y2K style

Think monster high outfits, your outfits held darker and lighter tones blended together which incorporated different cultures from all over the world

You also had a unique ability that helped you with this, you had the ability to put your emotions into the clothing you’d handcrafted

Literally, so if you made a scarf while feeling sad, whoever wore the scarf would then feel sad for however long they wore the scarf

This made your brand unique and gave you an edge that stood out from the other companies

You started out on market stalls but eventually you gained investors and expanded into a company that even had hell’s celebrity’s wearing your clothes

Stolas had commissioned you to make Octavia’s debut dress, veroskia had asked you to create her entire wardrobe for her tour around the hells rings and even the Lilith was photographed wearing one of your dresses

You had officially built your fashion empire that you’d always dreamed about and you even owned your own tower

This unfortunately meant that you couldn’t keep up with demand and handcraft each clothing item and would have to expand the workforce and hire skilful factory workers

This meant that your ability to put your emotions into the clothing wouldn’t work, so you made a limited edition line out every year with one new clothing item coming out every month

Each outfit would have a theme that connected with the emotions, so you’d do a rouge rage or a cerulean calm

You’d sell these to the highest bidder and would quickly become your top earning products with brawls happening at the bidding wars

But your company being successful only made your bad personality traits worse as you became more demanding and perfectionist to your staff in a way that made you a bad person but in a devil wears prada way that had the newer generations of demons calling you an icon

You had an attitude very similar to velvettes, only with the skills and the maturity to carry it

Velvette hated watching you grow your empire so much that it almost rivalled hers in popularity and income

She hated that you’d practically done it all by yourself while she had relied on Vox financially and he only did that because of his interest In her abilities with social media

She hated that she actually liked your clothing and she hated that your ability made you stand out

But she hated most of all that you two had come to hell within months of each other, yet you were a respected ceo and overlord while she was seen as a joke by overlords and parts of the fashion community

She also hated how insanely pretty you were, but she didn’t come to terms with that until later

She would try and do anything to discredit you and make it so your popularity would go down when you were neck and neck

She tried ‘exposing’ you on social media for having poor working conditions and being rude to workers but she forgot this is hell and literally no one cares

She tried slandering you and your clothing brand on social media, but she forgot your modern and you know how to use social media to your advantage too

You kinda turned into a meme similar to the Wendy’s twitter memes whenever you clapped back at velvette

She tried to pull your investors by threatening them with voxtech legal action, but you’d become self sustaining and could handle the loss with having hells celebrities commissioning your personal pieces

She tried to make you look foolish in front of the other overlords, but they all respected you much more than they respected her

She even tried to copy one of your designs but you called her out and she had to do one of those influencer apology videos but it mostly just consisted of her badmouthing you and justifying her actions

Her hatred bored on obsession with how regularly she stalked your profiles and life

After around ten years of this rivalry, you grew bored with it and you were running out of ideas

So you contacted the Vs and sat down in a meeting with them where you suggested a collaboration of the fashion designers on your terms

Velvette wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but Vox insist that it would be extremely profitable and practically forcing velvette to accept

So you started a collaboration

You and velvette butted heads a lot or some stylistic choices

It was so bad that eventually you couldn’t be in a room together for a few weeks

This collaboration took months, and during this time velvette got to hate you up close as she got to know every annoying detail about you

Except that hatred changed to something different over the months she worked with you, you intrigued her in a way that no one else has ever before

It all came to a stop one night when you two had gone out to a club together for social media promo for the upcoming collab

You shared drinks and complaints about one another and one thing led to another and you two had a drunken make out session in the back of the limo

But velvette hauled ass as soon as she realised she was swapping spit with her arch nemesis

She laid in bed and thought about her actions

Could all of those years of feeling hatred and jealousy towards you just been her suppressed attraction to you?

Could all those tense moments she assumed was awkward tension actually been sexual tension?

The thought made velvette want to scream into a pillow

She pushed her feelings down and decided to just avoid you until the collab was over

She thought it would be easier to hate you rather than face her obvious attraction to you

You tried talking with her many times during the collab but she just ignored you, and this hurt you deeply

So you complied with her wishes and after the collab ended you went back to living your lives without each other

But velvette found herself missing you and being around you

Staff especially noticed that she was much harsher to them then before

She felt herself wanting to reach out to you to beg you to either kiss her or reject her because surely rejection would be easier to deal with than this

But it all changed when rumours started circulating

Velvette had been innocently scrolling through social media until she came across a drama channel that claimed to have spotted you in a romantic moment with none other than veroskia mayday

Velvette found herself consumed with absolute disgust and jealousy

She stalked yours and veroskia’s profile and begged Vox to use his hypnosis to send trolls to verkoskia’s profile

The rumours were cleared up after you made a response that claimed that you and veroskia were only friends, but velvette still felt consumed with rage

She did something completely out of character

She went to you at your place of work and cornered you in your office before confessing every little feeling she’d ever had for you

She practically begged you to be with her, but you just sighed and explained that she had hurt you with her actions and that you couldn’t see yourself in a relationship with her

“It would hurt the brands” is what you also said, and that cut velvette deeper than any knife

She had felt pathetic, and she’d never feel pathetic in any relationship

Even before she had gotten to know you, your instant rise to success left her feeling small

You held power over her, and maybe that’s why she was so obsessed and attracted to you

She’d felt surrounded by people who were less than her all her life, and falling for you felt like finally finding an equal

And she wasn’t going to let you go that easily

She’d destroy you and your company if it meant that you’d love and rely on her

Hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you want me to make this another series

Tag list:

None yet, let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works like this for this if it becomes a series :)

[melodygatesauthor]

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Three - The Therapist

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

Summary: I arrived in a different universe, and in this one you’re a therapist. I saw your name on one of the doors when the orderlies were dragging me down the hall to a cell. I guess luck was on my side, I wouldn’t have to search very far for you this time, not that I would’ve been given a chance anyway. When the orderlies saw me, I think I scared them and they thought I was delusional. They took my watch, I’ll have to get that back…but I have to find you first.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was a morning like every other.

You pulled into the parking lot of the Lennox House for the Mentally Insane, coffee in hand, ready to start your day. You loved your job as a therapist, especially when you felt like everything was in order. You had a good handle on your patients, all of them making good progress on their goals; nothing felt more rewarding as a mental health provider.

But you weren’t prepared for the wrench the unsuspecting six foot nine man was about to throw your way.

You wondered if your success was the reason you were assigned the new and highly delusional patient. After getting into your office and pulling out his nearly empty file, you looked at him from across your desk, his eyes calm, but unsettlingly trained on you. He had a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lips, as though he were trying to appear less intimidating. His size alone was enough to make any sane person quiver. He didn’t even try to tug on his restraints though, and that put you a little more at ease.

“Miguel O’Hara…” you said, closing the thin manila folder in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you I’m–”

“I know your name.”

Miguel sat, strapped uselessly to the wheelchair the orderlies had brought him in. He knew he could rip the restraints off at any given moment, but when he’d heard he was being assigned to you as his therapist, he decided to behave. He needed to see you; he needed to talk to you.

This was a change of pace. In his universe, you were a graphic designer. It was something you’d always enjoyed. In the second one, despite working at a coffee shop, you still seemed to have a hobby of creating artwork for some side income. Now you were a therapist. It was unexpected, but in the multiverse, anything was possible. Miguel was just glad that it seemed like in this universe, you’d never met him before, making this a lot easier - he didn’t have to worry about eliminating his alternate -.

“The orderlies said that you were wandering the halls when they found you? They said that when you saw my name you specifically asked for me to treat you. Why?” You crossed your legs and narrowed your eyes at the man.

You were careful while talking to this one. He was massive in size, not only in his height, but this man wasn’t skipping arm day, that’s for sure. You trusted him, despite being told not to trust patients - they can be manipulative - but you knew he was strong enough to rip his arms from the restraints at any given moment, and yet he sat there. To say you were intrigued was an understatement. Who was this man? And how did he know you?

After wasting so much time in the last universe, he wanted to change his approach. He wanted to try being more direct and honest with you. With a deep sigh, he pressed his lips together and looked you in the eye. You looked good all dressed up in your little pencil skirt and white blouse. He’d never seen you in a lip color that shade of red, but he liked it. Even if you weren’t quite the same, he liked the way you looked in this universe.

“Because, I traveled a long way to find you mi vida,” he started, smirking at you rather pathetically, but he was desperate for you to understand, “and I’m going to tell you why you’re going to take these restraints off my wrists and say yes when I ask you to marry me.”

Your patients had said some crazy shit before. Being in an insane asylum, even a minimum security one, naturally you would expect to hear some outlandish things, but that had to be the most delusional thing you’d heard to date. You furrowed your brow, continuing to take notes. You hummed in amusement.

“You’re very bold, Mr. O’Hara–”

“Miguel.”

“Miguel.” You cleared your throat, smirking in an attempt to show that you weren’t fazed by his surprising statement, “you’ve piqued my curiosity, but I’m certainly not sure why you think I would do that.”

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” You asked, scribbling more notes on your legal pad.

“Ask me how I became so wracked with grief that I created a device to travel the multiverse just so I could find you again,” he said, eyes darting between yours to see if you believed a word coming out of his mouth.

You were stunned. You’d seen patients in a catatonic state, but this wasn’t like that, he was far too clear as he spoke. This also didn’t present as the usual schizophrenic case you would expect to see from the majority of your patients. He was completely calm, making eye contact, and very direct in his line of thinking. He was either so deep in his delusion that he genuinely believed everything coming out of his mouth…or he was telling the truth.

“Miguel, why don’t you tell me more about how you got here, let’s start with that.”

Redirection didn’t always work, but if you could find a crack in his story, you might be able to get him back to a basis in reality.

“I used my watch, the one that security took from me. Gonna need that back by the way, very dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands.” He leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing on you. “I used my watch to travel from a universe where you were a barista with a piss poor attitude, to this one where you’re a therapist apparently.”

You scoffed, “I was a barista?”

Miguel could tell you weren’t buying it, so he decided to be more direct now. 

“Listen, I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die,” he watched your expression to see how you’d react.

Regardless of how delusional he sounded, something like that would make anyone feel a bit uneasy. You shifted in your chair, putting your pen down on the desk. Miguel’s expression softened, likely seeing that his words had an effect on you. After all the years of you being a therapist, you’d never let a patient make you uncomfortable like that. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” you said, standing up and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Miguel yelled, wheelchair creaking forward a smidge when his body lurched to try and stop you. It worked. You turned and looked at him. “You have to believe me. I’m just trying to keep you alive. If you don’t listen to me…you’ll die.”

“Goodbye, Mr. O’Hara,” you said, opening your office door. “You’re going to be reassigned to a different therapist. I don’t think I’m a good fit for you.”

“No no no, wait!” He pulled his hands free from the restraints, something you both knew he was capable of.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, “Help!” You yelled, only resulting in his strong hand covering your mouth quickly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk,” he said, voice trembling in desperation.

You looked terrified, and rightfully so. This huge man that you’d never met before was towering over you, staring at you with such intensity, you thought you might faint in terror. He took his hand off your mouth and held a finger to his lips.

“Shh, mi vida, por favor,” he spoke softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“G-go sit down in your chair n-now,” you said, legs shaking wildly.

He put his hands up in surrender, showing you that he was willing to comply with your request. He walked over and sat down in his chair, the weight of his body forcing the equipment to sigh under his frame. There was a silence in the room, a silence that made it easy to hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath.

Miguel recognized that face, you were going to run. He sighed, he’d tried a different approach this time, and it didn’t pay off. Instead, his attempt had you rushing out into the hall, shouting for an orderly or two to help you. He didn’t fight them when they ran in, sticking him with a couple of syringes, being too massive for only one to do the job.

You didn’t stop thinking about him for the entire night. His words rang through your mind like a broken record:

‘I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die’.

No matter how hard you tried to shake it from your mind, it was impossible. For a week you managed to avoid talking to him again, but your curiosity - or perhaps it was your anxiety -, got the better of you. Your co-worker, and the patient coordinator, Stacy, spoke to you exactly one week after you’d last spoken to Miguel.

“He’s still asking for you every day,” she said, handing you his chart, “Dr. Harrow doesn’t want to work with him anymore, says he’s not getting anywhere with Mr. O’Hara.”

You took his file from her hands, looking it over, “So you put him back in there with me, knowing how dangerous he is and that he’s targeting me? That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

She followed you down the hall as you walked, “I said that, but the higher ups insisted that you should see him. They gave him more sedatives and stronger restraints than last time so–”

“So nothing, I can’t believe they’d do this,” you said, tone laced in frustration.

You weren’t sure if you were upset because you were worried he was going to physically harm you, or if you were worried that there was validity to the words that had kept you up every night for the last several nights. You stopped in front of your office door, letting out a deep exhale. Stacy touched your back, patting it gently.

“Well, at least he’s hot.” She chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at her before opening the door and stepping into your office. There he was, sitting in the chair, eyes hooded from the sedatives when he looked up at you. His restraints were doubled, both his legs and wrists tied down with metal this time, rather than the flimsy leather from before. You felt a little better, but you were still afraid of what he might say. No patient of yours had ever been so direct when targeting you before.

“Hello again Mr. O’Har–”

“Miguel…or you can just call me ‘baby’, the way you used to,” he said, words coming out in a slow drawl due to his mentally inhibited state.

“Miguel…” you said with a sigh, “I’ll continue to treat you, but you need to be more appropriate when you speak to me or you’ll have to seek treatment elsewhere.”

“Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sounded genuine, eyes looking up at you from under his lashes. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting your unease, so you nodded with a meek ‘thanks’, before sitting down behind your desk. He leaned over and wiped his drool slick lips on his shoulder, unsuccessful in cleaning the mess. Inappropriate as it may have been, you weren’t going to let the poor guy sit there in a mess like that.

You took a tissue and walked over to him. Miguel couldn’t believe you would touch him, not after the way he’d frightened you. He thought this version of you would be impossible to get through to after his first interaction with you, but perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps being blunt with you was going to work after all.

You held the tissue in your hand and wiped his lips. You damned yourself for mentally commenting on how soft they looked. With a shaky breath, you finished and sat back down at your desk. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You didn’t want to talk to anyone else so…go ahead…talk,” you took out a notebook and a pen, waiting for him to start.

“Was that Stacy? Or maybe it was Mira?” He chuckled, watching your eyes flick up quickly to lock onto his.

“So you saw my co-worker’s name plate at some point, I presume? Who let you walk by the front desk of the asylum?” You asked, feeling a pit of unease forming in your stomach at his mention of your two closest friends and coworkers.

He shrugged, “I saw Stacy’s yes, is Mira not your co-worker in this universe?”

He could see you getting anxious. You always clicked your pen incessantly when you did, back in his universe. He wasn’t trying to make you feel crazy, but rather, he was trying to make you realize that he was sane. Finally, you looked at him again.

“M-Mira used to work here, but how do you know–”

“What about Emily? Your step sister…”

“No…no, no, no…” you got up quickly, heading for the door.

Miguel called your name, and you stopped, turning slowly to face him.

“I’m not trying to scare you, mi vida, I’m trying to save your life. If you would…please…entertain me for just a moment.” He rattled his wrists in his chair. “I couldn’t do anything to hurt you even if I wanted to. I’m fucking…I’m drooling on myself and I’m stuck to this damn chair.”

You stared at him for a while, considering your options. If he was insane, which was the most likely explanation, then helping him through this was your duty as a therapist. If he was telling the truth…you needed to try and figure out what he meant anyway. No matter which way you sliced it, the only way you could sleep at night would be to hear him out. You slowly walked back to your desk and sat down. When you picked your pen back up you realized that you were shaking.

“Have you been stalking me?” You asked bluntly.

“No,” he returned your tone. “I know you, I know you well, and if you’ll hear me out with an open mind for just a second, I can explain everything to you.”

You gestured with your arms to give him the floor. He nodded, thanking you in Spanish before letting out a deep sigh.

Miguel told you everything, from the day you first met in his universe to the day you died. He talked in depth about things in your life that he knew only you would know. He damned himself for crying while he explained how much he loved you. Then he went on to tell you about the second universe, where you worked at a quaint little coffee shop barista, but he didn’t express the same emotion toward that version of you as he had the first.

When he was done, you sat there in awe, doing your best to process. Not only did you believe his every word, you were trying not to fall into an existential crisis upon learning that the multiverse might actually exist. You gulped, reminding yourself quickly that if a patient is delusional enough, they can tell a lie and still pass a polygraph test. All it takes is for them to believe that lie to be true with all their heart. If he was a good enough stalker, he could easily be making all of this up, and combined with heavy delusions, you had a recipe for someone too crazy for your paygrade. He needed more care than you could provide.

“Miguel…” you looked him in the eye, unsure of how to respond.

A buzzer saved you, indicating that the time for your session was at an end. He didn’t fight, he’d learned the hard way that breaking the rules of the asylum would get him nowhere. Regardless, he couldn’t continue like this for long, he was wasting too much time. If this version of you wasn’t going to see things his way, he needed to move on.

One more session…

Both of you were thinking the same thing without realizing. You would give him one more session to sway you one way or another, and he would give you one more to make up your mind before he moved forward.

He was already waiting for you in your office when he heard you clicking down the hall toward the door. He heard you stop, and then Stacy started talking to you.

“I texted Mira and she’s down, you wanna come out for drinks with us?” Stacy asked.

Miguel’s heart nearly stopped. Was this it already? Was this the day you’d die if he didn’t stop you from going out with your damn friends? He thought about the last universe though. You still died, even before you were supposed to go out with your friends, as though it were a static event that happened in every universe you existed in.

“Yeah sure that sounds fun! I’ll meet you at your place around seven?”

Once you finished finalizing your plans, you made your way into the office and sat down behind your desk, trying not to make eye contact with the man whose words had kept you up at night over the last week. You averted his gaze until you couldn’t anymore, finally looking at him and sighing heavily.

“Hi Miguel, how was your week?”

You started the same way you started every session.

“If you go out with your friends tonight, you’ll die,” he said, speaking coldly, “I told you that’s how you died before, remember?”

“You really expect me to believe that? Come on. I’ve been wracking my brain all week trying to decide how I felt about what you said and I’m not buying it.” You spoke with little conviction, voice wavering slightly. “Plus in the second universe you said I died getting hit by a car, not from being in a car so–”

“I know, but the days started the same both times, your friends talking about meeting up for drinks and you agreeing to go,” he sighed, “What have you got to lose, hm?” He looked intense now. “If I’m wrong, then you can toss me in my cell for the rest of my days and label me insane, but if I’m right, then you’re going to come back here and realize that I’m telling the truth.”

“How…how will I know that you’re telling the truth versus making this up?”

You’d left out the fact that Stacy and Mira died in each universe as well, not wanting to complicate things by mentioning them. He looked up at you, brow furrowed and face full of frustration. He was hoping that after you finally believed him, that this alternate version of you would be worth all this time he’d put into you.

“You’ll just know.”

He was right.

The next day you came into work, despite having just lost your two closest friends, to confront the insane man who suddenly didn’t seem so insane. If you’d been in the car with them that night, you would’ve died alongside them. You stormed into your office after demanding Miguel be brought in to see you immediately. You’d grabbed his watch from storage, putting it on your desk.

Success had never looked so heartbreaking. Miguel hated seeing you so distraught. Your bottom lip was trembling and your eyes were glossed over with tears. He hated being right sometimes. You pointed to the watch with a shaking hand. Your face held a combination of anger and sorrow etched in every pore.

“You’re saying that this thing is…you can travel to other universes–”

“Si, honey but listen–”

“-going on but I believe you, I really fucking believe you–”

Your eyes were crazed, “mi vida, don’t touch that please, it’s not–”

“-through the multiverse and I mean, you’re insane and I’m insane for even thinking you might–”

You picked up the watch, holding it in your hand and putting it on your wrist while you continued to talk over Miguel’s desperate protests. He started wriggling in his chair, trying desperately to get free. You didn’t understand how that thing worked. It wasn’t made for you.

“-I thought to myself why the hell didn’t I just take this damn thing and prove once and for all that–!”

It wasn’t made for you…

When Miguel built it, he’d put in a failsafe to prevent anyone else from taking it and using it. If someone stole it from him, or he ended up in an insane asylum and had it confiscated, they wouldn’t be able to take it to another universe, leaving him behind and helpless. Since there was no telling where the watch would take him, he wanted to prevent the possibility of ending up in one that didn’t have modern technology, and getting stuck there…without you. So it was hardwired to work with only his DNA, and no one else’s.

It would appear that his failsafe ended up being what killed you in that universe. You pressed the button on the watch, waiting for something to happen with bated breath. Miguel hoped that his device would malfunction. He’d taken a liking to this version of you, but it didn’t. He watched as your body convulsed, flesh bubbling and tearing from the inside out as the energy that would normally transport him from one place to another coursed through you.

Your screams would be etched into his memories for the rest of his days. It didn’t matter that you weren’t the original, it was still your voice crying for help and ringing through his ears. He’d never seen anything so horrific, not even in horror films. You were gone again, and this time he felt despair again. He almost wished that if you were going to die, that you’d gone in the car with your friends instead, that way he wouldn’t have to go to the next universe covered in your blood and with the sound of your cries on repeat in his head.

He managed to shimmy himself over to the part of your blazer where he knew you kept your ring of keys. Tipping over onto the floor he could get to them, moving his wrist in a way that just barely reached the lock holding his hand in place. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, truly, but when three orderlies and a security guard tried to stop him from getting his bag containing his personal items, including that photo of the original you, he had no choice. He even warned them to stay out of his way, but when they didn’t listen, he was forced to make them.

Stepping over their bodies, bag in hand and watch on his wrist, he activated the device. He was still searching for the perfect you.

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Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[fluloa]

Si fpom

Jake Sully x reader [series, part one]

Home.

That's what your mother whispers to you, mouth stretched into a warm grin as she holds you in her arms. A baby so small, crying in choked whines and all she can do is wipe a hand through your thin threads of short hair. She's exhausted, spent of the hours of pushing and crying and screaming. Ongokx. To be born. Here you were, settled in her arms with a face so sweet and skin so teal. Ronal feels tears dry up on her cheeks as new ones overlap them, "Ma ite. Ma txon."

My daughter. My night. The fire beside her crackles, warming her sweat-dampened legs as Tonowari supports her from her back. The moon's light shines in from the slitted open flat of the tent, highlighting the side of your face. Born in a night. Her little night.

As you grow older, so does your curiosity. You're drawn to the ocean, to the outside of the reef, to the outside of your home. Barely the age of three and you're waddling to the sea foam of the ocean, with your father hot on your feet before he's scooping you up. You just manage to pick up a dirtied seashell before it. "Tomorrow, my daughter. Far too dark now."

He starts walking away with you on his hip, and you look over his big shoulder, arm reaching out clumsily. "Go out there." You wave your seashell, and he takes it from your chubby little hand.

He lows a laugh, "This right here is all you need." He gives your belly a small tickle, before gently moving your head to the view of your village.

When you're four, you're gifted with a baby brother. You sit on your knees from afar as you watch the baby in your mother's arms with curiosity, loud cries filling your ears. He looks so odd to you, a face so small and the stripes on his skin like little spikes. You look to your own. Why are yours more stretched out? And why is he crying so much? Is he hurt?

Your mother looks to you, eyes wearing a tiredness but she smiles, flicking a hand in your direction as she beckons you. "Come look, txon."

You slowly crawl your way towards her, eyes trained on the little being in her arms. You kneel neatly beside her, looking up to her and she nods again, smile brightening as a few chuckles leave her lips. "You can touch, ma eveng."

You warily reach your hand out, placing your palm on the soft skin of his belly. You're fascinated with the way your hand covers most of it. You shift your hand again, instead feathering at his cheek and your mouth cracks into a little smile.

"Tonowari," Ronal quickly whispers, pointing her head to the scene in front of him. His face beams with joy at the sight, placing a hand on her arm as his chest swells with warm pride. At such a young age, you held a sense of maturity, of wiseness. Destined to be a leader. A tsahik. But that didn't mean you didn't have a snap of childish fire in you.

"Ao'nung!" you hiss, refusing to unlatch your grip on the seashell he's desperately holding. He whines, tugging again but it's useless to you. Six and two is a big difference in strength. "Give it— give it!" you scream.

You finally pull, and it's a hard pull. Whipping it out from his grasp and the force sends him to the ground butt first. Hearing the frustrated hisses morph into big cries makes you grin in victory, but the expression drops as soon as you hear the angry thud of footsteps against sand and see the angry look on your incoming mother's face.

During your sixth cycle, you rode your first ilu. Sure, it was a bit on the messy side and you did squirm a bit before connecting your tsaheylu, but as soon as your fingers grazed the wet scales of the animal's neck and you settled comfortable on her back, you were gliding through the sea. Ronal was scared for you at first, but Tonowari's hand placed on her shoulder gave her enough reassurance.

Once you come back up to your parents, your smile is bright, water dripping from your face. Your mother leans over and flicks a few wet stray hairs out from your face. "How was it, txon?"

"Really, really good!" you gasp, earning a chuckle from both your parents. "Can I go further?" you point your finger out, almost reaching to the deeper fill of sea.

Tonowari shakes his head.

"Let me go further!" you whine, dreaded that your father had caught you trying to sneak an ilu after sunset. His grip on your forearm is tight and unforgiving, dragging you away from the coldness of the sea's start and to the dryness of the hot sand. Even if you were twelve, you still held that childish fire.

"I will not let this continue," he snaps out your name. "Foolish girl. One of these days, you'll end up dead."

Your fingers claw at his fist wrapped around your damp skin, tears burning at the rim of your eyes. "I would rather that than be stuck here!" you cry.

He suddenly stops, looks back to you with his face still. "You disappoint me."

He lets go of you, and you slump to the ground, finally letting the tears break from your eyes and drool down your cheeks. You wanted more. More than this land, than this village. But it was out of reach, and you couldn't even attempt to stretch out your hand to catch it.

You feel a hand warm at your shoulder, and you numbly look up, seeing your grandmother eyeing you with a soft sympathy. You clumsily crawl to her, clutching her legs in a hug and a soft chuckle leaves her. "Come," she murmurs.

You're sat at her tent, arms wrapped around your knees as she gently unfolds your braids, drops of water sliding from your hair and sticking to your back. Your eyes are wet, tiredness taking over your body little by little. "What is the matter?" she starts, her tone casual.

"Why am I so different?" you mumble, eyes trained on the ember fire in front of you. "I feel as if I am so apart from everyone else."

"You are your father's daughter," she responds. "He sees himself in you, and he is afraid of that."

"I am nothing like him." You bitter, playing with a cuticle of your nail as annoyance from the events of before settle deep in your heart.

Your grandmother laughs, "You would be surprised. But, ma eveng, you are not apart from everyone else. Different, maybe, but it is not bad. It is a gift."

She takes the final braid out from your hair, humming as she cups your chin with her fingers and turns your face to her gaze. "Lor evenge," she awes. Beautiful girl, she calls you, something that you can't seem to believe each time the words leave her mouth as much as you try to. Her eyes graze over your hair, using a soft hand to comb through it. "You must wear it like this more often."

Your eyebrows crinkle, a smile making its way to your lips. She grins back.

"Come," she takes your hand, bringing you up with her and she skims past her tent, dragging you with to wherever she's going to. She sneaks you past the village, away from the people and fires and leads to you a thick land of rock that's mended through the sand and is perched at the edge of the sea, as flat as the sand beneath your feet. She slips her hand away from yours, stepping onto the rock surface. You watch her with curiosity as she starts to move her arms, and then she turns to you, curling her hand toward you.

You swallow steadily, stepping onto the rock and feeling the gravelly surface graze the bottoms of your bare feet. You begin to follow her movements, unable to fight the grin on your face as she smiles in your direction.

"Dance with the water," your grandmother whispers, voice blending with the soft sway of the ocean. "Feel its waves. Its undertow. Feel it within your body, and move with it. Move with the water, ma evenge."

Your grandmother grows ill when you're fifteen. You can tell in the way her face softens and wrinkles, the way her voice croaks, and the way her movements slow.

Dancing with her at your designated spot, the flat chunk of rock. The night's air cool as it breezes through your unbraided hair, beads jingling on your body as your hips sway. A sudden stop to her motions has your head whipping towards her, rushing to her just before she falls to the ground. "Grandmama," you murmur, pressing a few fingers to her head and worry shocking through your system at the intense warmth that you feel against them.

You yell out desperately, holding her to your smaller body as she begins to slump against you. A few people come, and take her from your arms, rushing her to the healers pod. You follow after them, hot on their heels as you silently beg Eywa for a miracle. You could not lose her. She was your source of peace, your light in the pitch black darkness. She was the only thing that made sense to you.

They lay her out on a blanket layered bed, dipping a bowl of misty green liquid into her mouth. You don't pay attention when the thin curtains of the marui pod whip apart, your parents swarming beside you.

"Mother," your father whispers, kneeling down to her form and rolling a hand over hers. His head suddenly slumps, mouth dipping in a sadness and your heart plumbers.

"Let me see her," you rush, attempting to push past the little crowd of people that surround her. "Let me see her! Grandmama!"

Your mother wraps a hand around your arm, but you immediately shrug it off, forcing your way past everyone as your eyes begin to fog. You drop to your knees, eyes trained on the still, dead face of your grandmother. You suck in a rasped gasp of air, hand pulling on her arm wretchedly as you cry. You scream out, only to be forced away by the rough arms of your father, shoved into his chest as your wails of pain begin to muffle. He lets you cry, lets you hit at his body as despair fills your being. A new tsahik would come forth; your mother.

A little while later, you held young little Tsireya in your arms, allowing her tears to run at the skin of your torso. You push your own need of comfort aside, instead focusing on your younger sister that reaches for the comfort that you need to give. You comb your fingers through her dark hair, just like your grandmama, and mumble a soft tune. "Mawey, hi'i ilva. Aku tikeftxo, teya si fpom."

Calm, little drop. Take away sadness, and fill peace. The beginning of your songcord, the first little bead of your chain.

Past your teenage years and into your early adulthood cycle, you were fierce. A force to be reckoned with. You held that fire within you, and it had only blossomed into a bigger wrath of ember. A gifted dancer, a strong hunter, but a kind heart. A kind heart that your people grew to know, to adore. Wise beyond your years, people said, but a wild, curious and adventurous young girl deep inside. Your father's daughter, just like your grandmother had once said.

"A tsahik in the making," your mother tells you, fixing the crystal woven crown on your hairline. Your head juts up, your chest risen with pride as she then traces your newly tattooed back.

A tsahik in the making that you hope could live up to your grandmama.

— sooo here it is!! ik this chapter isn’t that big but trust me, next chapter will be FAT. lol. pls be kind. <333 also idk if this will get attention or not

to be in my tag list for this series -> here

PART TWO

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

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I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

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@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Written in the Stars

Dieter Bravo X OFC ||| Completed Oneshot

Series Summary: Dieter and Natalia receive an unexpected phone call that results in an emotional journey and an expansion of their little family.

Word Count: 16.6K

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health and emotional trauma. Brief mentions of suicide/death, child neglect/mistreatment, and infertility. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. Daddy Dieter comes with his own warnings. This fic is meant to raise foster care and mental health awareness.

✨Note: This can be read as a standalone fic. However, it is an extra for Destiny & Deliverance, which takes a deeper dive into events that are mentioned in the Epilogue.

EXTRAS ||| TEASERS ||| VIBES ||| MAIN MASTERLIST

Chapter Quote: “I’ve always wanted a miniature version of myself.”  

It was 9:37 AM on a Monday morning. I had just sat down in the conference room with some of our foundation's biggest donors to discuss plans for a non-profit community and resource center geared toward providing counseling and mental health treatment for low-income families. My hope was to secure additional funding for the project. I was admittedly nervous because these donations would be the deciding factor on if this pursuit was even possible at the present time. We had just made it past the pleasantries when Dieter stuck his head through the door. He looked around wild-eyed as he took in the room before finally focusing on my surprised face that was staring back at him. He cleared his throat, before pushing the door open further and stepping inside, “Talia, I’m s-sorry to interrupt, but can I borrow you for a minute?”  

I spoke through a tight smile, “Dieter, I’m a little busy right now…”  

He was almost vibrating from anxiety as the look on his face shifted to something resembling…panic, “I know, I’m really sorry…b-but we have a minor emergency that needs attention…like now.”  

My brows furrowed as I took in his expression, “Okaaay…” I replied with confusion etched on my face as I turned toward our guests, “Please excuse us for a minute.” I gave them a nervous smile, moving to follow Dieter out into the hallway. As soon as the conference room door closed behind us, I puffed air out of my cheeks, then asked him what was going on. He rubbed both hands over his face before meeting my eyes. 

“I don’t even know…where to start…with this.” He let out a shaky breath before continuing.  

“Amber, from CDSS (California Department of Social Services), just called. You know Luca…that I mentor in the after-school program?” 

I nodded, completely unsure of where this was going.  

“His mom, she uhhh…” His brows drew down together and his face tightened, like he was fighting back emotion, “Her neighbor found her early this morning…she’s…gone. They need a temporary emergency foster for Luca.” 

I sucked in a stuttered breath. That certainly was not the news I was expecting. I shook my head in shock, “What does that mean? What are you saying?” 

Dieter rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked up at me through his lashes, “I know we never made a decision on potentially becoming foster parents, or even adopting…” 

Realization crossed my face, Dieter wanted us to be the emergency foster, “Dieter…this is a big fucking deal…where are we gonna put a kid? We don’t have any kid…stuff.” 

“I-I know it is…I mean, I’m sure he has his own stuff…” 

My face softened, realizing now that he really wanted this, “Dieter, this isn't a dog. It’s a whole fucking human…and not even a baby. He’s gonna have feelings, emotions, and…trauma. That’s a lot to take on.”  

He sighed, “I-I know…I don’t think there’s anyone more equipped to handle trauma than us though…and I’m the only person he knows. If we don’t take him, he’s gonna go to the foster facility or be placed with a random family. I can’t let that happen...he’ll be terrified.”  

I fisted my fingers through the top of my hair as I stared at him. “It’s temporary?” I asked. Dieter nodded. “Are you gonna be able to handle that? Will you be able to handle giving him up?” 

He nodded again, “As long as I go into it knowing that’s the plan, then yes…I c-can handle it.”  

I wasn’t completely convinced with that answer. This was one of the reasons we hadn’t gone forward with being foster parents. Dieter had been doing so well the last few years, but this was certainly something that could trigger a manic episode for him. He had a hard time with loss, but he did have an equally strong desire to help others in need.    

“And what if they can’t find another place for him to go? What if it’s not temporary?” 

He let out a controlled breath, “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”  

I had to look away from him for a moment, my eyes roamed over the light gray colored walls of the hallway we stood in. Both of our emotions were running high, and I wasn’t really sure how to handle this being dumped on us out of the blue, especially right now.   

I rubbed at the tension forming at the bridge of my nose, “When do they need to know something?” 

Dieter grimaced, “Like, now.” 

“Fuck. Why did this have to happen now…during this meeting…” 

I reached to rub at my shoulder as my chest tightened, my heart now beating double time. I hadn’t had a panic attack in a very long time, but I suddenly felt like I was about to. Dieter immediately noticed and grabbed my hand, cradling it between both of his large ones and brought it to his lips. I could already feel my heart rate slowing at his touch. After all this time, he was still my anchor. 

“I mean, we don’t even have time to discuss it? Think it through?” I asked. 

He stared at me with his large brown eyes as he shook his head, “Unfortunately, no. They have to figure out what to do with him if we can’t take him.”  

I was reluctant as my mind raced through all the possible outcomes of this situation - trying to determine if this was something we could handle if it ended badly. We had been through so much already in our attempts to expand our family, I didn’t know how much more we could take if things took an unexpected turn.  

I had concerns about taking in a child that wasn’t our own. It was the reason we had stalled on starting the adoption process. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to form any type of meaningful bond having not given birth to them myself and I was afraid of being a bad parent because of that. Dieter and I had discussed all of these things, and he knew why I was hesitant. Dr. Rosenberg, our psychiatrist, had assured me that all of these feelings were normal when considering adopting, so that had relieved some of my anxiety. However, I was now worried the same thing would happen if we became foster parents. The fear was amplified knowing that the situation was temporary, making it even harder on us emotionally. I knew I would inevitably put-up walls to protect myself.  

I managed to push my feelings aside and to think of Dieter. I wanted to try for him because I knew that he had bonded with Luca since becoming part of his life. Dieter was right, Luca would be terrified being with strangers and I wasn’t sure I could live with that either. Especially knowing that we could keep it from happening. I had only met Luca briefly, in passing, but I had heard everything about him from Dieter. He sounded like a sweet kid.  

Thinking further, I realized this may only be for a few days. Surely Luca had other family that would be willing to take him in, right? We could handle a few days. However, if it stretched on beyond that, we might have a problem. Dieter interrupted my racing thoughts by placing his hands on my shoulders and dipping his head to meet my gaze, “Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.” 

I sighed, and peered up at him through my lashes, “You know what’s going on in my mind…we’ve already talked about it all…and…I worry about you, obviously.”  

He gave me a small smile, “Baby, I promise, I’ll be fine. I know I can do this.” 

My eyes roamed over his face as I read his expression, there was so much conviction behind his words this time that it erased any concerns I had for him. I nodded slowly, “Ok, make the call.” 

His soulful eyes lit up with a wide smile that broke across his face, “Really? You’re sure?”  

I inhaled deeply and nodded, now in shock over what we had just agreed to do. Dieter pulled me in for a tight hug, mumbling into the top of my hair that this was a good thing. When I stepped away, I suddenly remembered that I had a room full of very important people waiting for me.  

I huffed out a breath, “Fuck…what about this meeting?”  

Dieter’s eyes widened, “Umm, well…I think they just needed to know if we could take him right away. Go finish the meeting and we can head over to get him after. How long do you think it’ll be? Like an hour?” 

I nodded, “Yeah, unless they laugh me out of there before that.”  

His brow furrowed before he started rubbing the upper part of my arms, “Hey, relax. You’ve got this. I can come in and charm them if you need me to?” He gave me his goofy lop-sided grin.  

I snorted out a laugh. He always knew the right thing to say to lift my mood.  

“Hopefully, that won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep that in mind if I need reinforcements.”  

Dieter chuckled, leaning down to give me a quick kiss before I turned to go back into the conference room. Everyone immediately snapped to attention as I walked in, a few inquiring if everything was ok. The only response I could muster was, “I hope so,” followed by a nervous laugh. 

It wasn’t my best presentation. I was distracted by all the thoughts swirling in my head, which was making it hard for me to focus. I managed to make it through everything though. Everyone seemed excited about the project and pledged more funding than we were asking for, which was a huge relief. At least that was one less thing I could stop worrying about. After everyone said their goodbyes, they all filed out the door to walk toward the lobby. I followed behind them, until I reached Dieter’s office door to find him looking down at his phone as he paced around the room.  

Once Dieter realized I was standing in the doorway, his head snapped up. He looked at me with wide eyes, “Well?” 

I smiled, “We’re good. More than good actually.” 

He hissed out a low “Yeeesss” as he punched the air with a fisted hand. He moved toward me, grabbing my wrist to pull me towards him for a hug, “I told you it would go ok.”  

When he pulled away, we looked at each other nervously, knowing what our next task was. 

“What’s the plan?” I asked.  

Dieter gave me a tight smile, “Well, we go down to the CDSS offices and pick him up. Amber said he has some clothes with him and not much else. I guess we’ll have some paperwork to fill out when we get there too.”   

I let out a slow breath, “I still can’t believe we’re doing this…” 

He gave me a serious look, “This is a good thing and you’re gonna be great. Stop getting in your head about it. He’s gonna love you. I mean, he likes me for fuck’s sake. You’ll be fine.”  

I snorted, shaking my head at him as I walked next door to my office to grab my things. We left without telling anyone what was going on. It was too much to explain right now. We were silent as Dieter drove to our destination. He held my hand tightly the whole way, knowing that my mind was racing, my thoughts making me more anxious as we got closer.  

At some point in our journey to expand our family, Dieter had become the source of strength in our relationship, and I had become the one who struggled emotionally. I think a lot of it had to do with the hormone injections I had been taking but knowing that didn’t make it any easier. After a year of no success, I couldn’t do it anymore. The disappointment that came with each negative pregnancy test had become overwhelming and was slowly breaking me down. It had really left a scar on my heart. 

Dieter remained positive throughout the entire ordeal and took such good care of me. He was truly supportive, constantly checking in with me and making me talk through my emotions. We knew this was a possibility before choosing this path and worked to prepare ourselves for it, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing when things didn’t go how we had hoped. The residuals from that experience still hung over us when it came to the topic of expanding our family. I had a nagging fear that things were never going to go our way and I was having a hard time overcoming it. Even now, my brain was making a list of every possible negative outcome and how that could affect us individually and as a couple.  Deep down I knew that wasn’t the way to go into this, but I couldn’t help it.  

Before I knew it, we were pulling into the CDSS parking lot. I was in a daze as I exited the vehicle, quickly moving to Dieter’s side and lacing our fingers back together. When we entered the building, Dieter asked for Amber, then we were led to the room where she was sitting with Luca. She saw us approaching through the glass windows and came out into the hallway to meet us.  

She gave us a sad smile as she greeted us. Dieter wasted no time getting to business. “How’s he doing?” he asked.  

Amber sighed, “It’s hard to tell. I’m not sure if he fully understands what’s going on. He’s sad, but calm. He perked up some when I told him you were coming to pick him up. He had been asking for Dieter since he got here. That’s why I thought to call you guys first.”  

Dieter turned to look at the small boy who had a vacant look in his eyes and a frown on his lips. “Can I go to him?” he asked. 

Dieter’s gaze shifted to Amber, his eyes now pleading. She nodded, stepping aside so he could enter the room. Dieter inhaled deeply, squeezing my hand a little tighter before releasing it. I watched as he approached, kneeling down to Luca’s level as he talked to him in hushed tones. I could see Luca’s bottom lip trembling and his dark eyes rounding before he leaned in and buried his face into Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter rubbed at the back of the boy’s shaggy dark brown locks, hugging him tightly. I couldn’t see Dieter’s face, but I could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he was fighting back his own emotions.  

Seeing Luca now took me back to the family photos littered throughout our home in Sonoma. He reminded me so much of a younger version of Dieter that it was almost scary. It also tugged at my heartstrings in a way that I didn’t expect. They had more in common than just looks, both having lost their mothers at a very young age. I didn’t know the details yet, but I assumed Luca experienced it in a traumatic way based on Dieter’s reaction. Seeing Dieter with the boy and how they interacted also had me feeling some kind of way. It was clear Luca trusted him and felt comfortable in his presence. It was enough to stifle the negative thoughts that had plagued my mind during the drive over.  

“Did Dieter tell you what happened?” Amber asked.  

I shook my head, still watching through the glass as I answered, “No, we didn’t get into the details. I was doing good just to wrap my head around this even happening.”  

She nodded, “I can understand that. I know it came out of nowhere.” She sighed before continuing, “The neighbor found her this morning. It’s looking like an intentional overdose. She had been like that for a couple days…at least. She did it with Luca there.” 

My head turned, shocked eyes finally meeting Amber’s. “He was with her like that for days?” 

She nodded, “As far as we know. He won’t really talk to us, so it’s a lot of speculation at this point.”  

I felt sick. It was worse than I thought. I couldn’t imagine what the kid was feeling, and I didn’t even know where to start in dealing with it, but Dieter did. He had been in a similar situation once. I felt a streak of panic go through me, worried that this would bring up emotions for Dieter that he might have a hard time with. I had to remind myself that he had successfully processed through that trauma and would hopefully be able to use it in a positive way now.  

Amber continued, “Based on the environment, I would say it wasn’t a good situation for the kid. The place was a mess, there was no food in the house, and he didn’t have a lot of belongings. It’s sad all around.” 

I had to find something to focus on before I got emotional, “He didn’t have a lot of belongings? What does he have?” 

Amber shrugged, “Not a whole lot. Some ill-fitting clothes, that’s about it. Oh, and a stuffed raccoon. He said “Mr. Dieter” got it for him at the zoo and wanted to bring it…but nothing else.”  

My eyes began to sting. Something about that bit of information nearly knocked me over the edge. I sucked in a sharp breath, needing to change the subject. “Do you know of any family yet?” I asked. 

She shook her head, “No, nothing yet. It doesn’t look like she kept in touch with anyone, so it’s gonna take some work to figure it out. We’ll look into the dad’s side as well, obviously…it doesn’t look like she was in touch with any of them either.  

I felt my stomach flutter at the idea that there appeared to be no one to take him. Was that some spark of hope? I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but I did have a small urge to give this kid a better life.  

Amber drew me from my thoughts, “So, we’re gonna have you guys take him on as a non-relative extended family foster. You have an established relationship with him that can be proven, and it’s documented, so I don’t think it will be an issue. I can prove it’s the best plan of action for him currently while we go through our processes.  

I nodded, agreeing that it seemed like the way to go. She left me to go gather the paperwork for us to fill out. I turned back to the window, now watching Dieter and Luca talking quietly to each other. Luca was hugging his stuffed raccoon as Dieter brushed the boy's wavy hair out of his dark eyes. Luca had a small smile on his face from whatever Dieter had said to him. The moment seemed so private. I almost felt like I was intruding.  

After a few minutes, Dieter’s head turned, his eyes searching for me. When our gazes met, he motioned for me to join them. I was hesitant, not wanting to spoil their moment. I was also unsure of how to act toward this kid. I didn’t know him like Dieter did, and honestly, I felt like an outsider in this situation. I needed to suck it up, there was no avoiding it.  

I took a calming breath before entering the room, moving to sit next to Dieter. Dieter put his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side, “Luca, do you remember meeting Talia? She’s my wife…the one that keeps me in line.”  

Luca let out a quiet laugh, smiling at me as he nodded. “I remember,” he finally said.   

Dieter glanced over at me, “Luca and I were just talking about getting some lunch.” 

A sad smile formed on my lips, there was no telling when the last time was that this kid had a decent meal. “Yeah, we can do that. Luca, is there anywhere you like to eat? We can go wherever you want.” 

Luca shrugged, “I’m not really sure.” 

It hit me then, this kid probably hadn’t eaten out a lot. I felt like an idiot for asking.  

It was Dieter who spoke next, “How about McDonalds? You liked it that one time we went, right?” 

The boy's chocolate eyes lit up, much like Dieter’s often did when he was excited about something. Luca nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion.  

Amber entered the room with a file full of paperwork. I got to work on it while Dieter kept Luca distracted. There was so much information to fill out and releases to sign for background checks and home visits. It was a little overwhelming. Dieter could sense how I was feeling and made the effort to help calm me. As soon as I felt his hand resting on the small of my back, moving in small circles, I was able to relax and focus. He always knew what I needed and when.  

We were at CDSS for at least two hours, if not longer. I felt absolutely exhausted by the time we left, and I’m pretty sure Dieter and Luca were too. I was on information overload and starting to stress about everything that needed to be done. I was already making a mental list about things Luca would need for school and everyday use. I had never shopped for a boy his age, so it was putting me in a bit of a tizzy.  

As soon as we were in the car, Dieter reached for my hand, “Baby, relax. Everything on that running list in your head doesn’t have to be done today…and I can help you with some of it you know.”  

My lips tugged upward. He knew me too well. “I know…but you know I can’t help myself.”  

As Dieter drove toward the fast food restaurant, I noticed his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror every so often, I assumed to keep an eye on Luca. I too turned to glance back at the boy a few times. Every time I did so, he was staring out the window with his chin propped on his hand. He didn’t look particularly distressed or upset. I wasn’t sure if he had fully grasped what was happening yet. He seemed way too at ease, or maybe that was just because he was with Dieter?    

Once we got into the drive-thru line, Dieter turned to ask Luca what he wanted. He shrugged as his eyebrows rose and disappeared behind his shaggy hair.  

Dieter glanced at me with an arched eyebrow and pursed lips. My brows furrowed. I could already tell this was going to take some adjustments.  

“Chicken nuggets or a burger?” Dieter finally asked.  

“Nuggets.” Luca replied.  

“Chocolate or Vanilla shake?” Dieter followed up.  

“What’s better?” Luca asked.  

“Chocolate…Duh.” Dieter replied. 

Luca giggled, “Chocolate then.”  

I felt like they had had many conversations like this. I loved that Dieter knew how to communicate with Luca in a way that got answers and didn’t cause frustration. I had a feeling a lot of adults probably couldn’t handle that. Here I was taking mental notes for future reference.  

When we got to the drive-thru window, the worker immediately recognized Dieter. It caused a bit of a ruckus as several other workers came over and asked to take a selfie with him. Luca seemed completely unfazed by it. I wondered if this had happened often while he was out doing things with Dieter.  

Once we finally got our food and were on our way home, I looked over at Dieter, “I assume you haven’t told Elaine or Will yet?” 

He sucked air through his teeth, “Nope.”  

“Do you think paparazzi will be an issue?” 

Dieter shrugged, “I dunno. I think when kids are around, they tend to back off some. I hope anyway...”  

I took a deep breath and dropped my head backward onto the seat. I had a feeling this was going to be more complicated in ways that we couldn’t even fathom yet.  

After we got home, we all sat down at the dining room table and ate our incredibly unhealthy meal. Luca seemed in good spirits, but he mostly sat in silence as he took in his surroundings and devoured his food. He would still smile when Dieter said something funny to him and responded to questions, but that was about it. Afterward, Dieter got Luca’s two small bags out of the car, then we showed him to his room and adjoining bathroom. He seemed in awe over the fact that he would have his own bathroom and a TV in the bedroom. It made me sad that something so common and seemingly not that big of a deal to us, was for him.  

While Dieter worked to get Luca settled in, I raided our toiletry stash to get everything he might need for the time being. I felt so unprepared for this situation, and I hated that feeling. I needed to get everything sorted out as soon as possible or I wasn’t going to be able to relax over it.  

When I returned to Luca’s room, Dieter was getting him tucked into bed because he said he was sleepy and wanted to take a nap. I watched as Dieter showed him how to work the TV and asked what kind of shows he liked to watch. Luca shrugged, commenting that he didn’t have many channels, so he didn’t watch much TV. It was just another reminder of the less than ideal situation he had been in.  

I left them alone after that, allowing Luca time to decompress and fall asleep. To help settle my mind, I took a seat on a stool at the kitchen island and started making lists. Lists of things we needed to do, essentials that Luca would need, school supplies, it almost seemed never ending. In the middle of all that I was googling things because I didn’t know anything about what a boy his age would like. I was also creating carts and adding items for delivery. It was overwhelming to see it all in writing, but it did make me feel better.  

About a half hour later, I could hear Dieter on a call in the living room. It sounded like he was talking to Elaine, his publicist, and Will, his manager - filling them in on the events of the day. After he ended the call, he appeared behind me in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.  

“Will is gonna clear my schedule for the next couple of weeks so I can be around for Luca.” he said into the side of my neck.  

“He may not be here that long,” I reminded him.  

He shrugged, “Then you’ll just have to put up with me being around.” 

I chuckled, “Yes, because that’s just so terrible.” I said sarcastically.  

Dieter reached to grab the notepad sitting on the counter in front of me, looking it over before dropping it back in its place.  

“You don’t have to do all of this today, ya know. Let me help you.”  

I sighed, “Oh, don’t worry. You will be. He’s probably gonna need some more clothes…that might have to be your area. I’ve already got some carts going online for the rest of it.” 

Dieter moved to my side so he could look at me directly, one arm still around my back, “Hey, you’re doing great. The kid likes you, so you can relax.” 

I gave him a weak smile, “How do you know?” 

Dieter smirked, “He said you’re nice…and have pretty hair.”  

I snorted, “He didn’t say that.”  

Dieter nodded, “I swear he did…” He was quiet for a beat, his eyes roaming my face. “How are you feeling about things?” 

I inhaled deeply and held it for a moment, “I don’t know…definitely overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done.” 

His eyes narrowed, “You know that’s not what I’m asking.” 

He’s too damn intuitive, I was totally avoiding the real conversation. “I’m not sure, honestly.” 

“Baby, you need to be open with me. I know what you’re doing…don’t shut yourself off.” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Ok, fine… I feel a little disconnected from it…like an outsider. It’s awkward because you already have a bond with him and I’m not really sure how to be part of that. I know he isn’t as comfortable around me either. I can sense it.” 

Dieter pulled me into a hug, “He’s a shy kid on the best day. After you spend a little time with him, he’ll open up. You’ve gotta open up some too though.” 

I nodded. I knew it was true, but also knowing that this was meant to be temporary was making it hard for me to do that. After seeing Luca and what his life must have been like made me realize I could actually get attached to this kid. Even though I had been worried about being able to bond with a child that wasn’t my own, I could feel my maternal instincts kicking in.  

Luca slept most of the day, which left us wondering what exactly he had been through that left him so tired. Dieter and I were in the midst of cooking dinner, trying to decide if we should wake him when he came shuffling down the hallway.  

“Hey hombrecito (little man), you ready to eat some dinner?” Dieter asked. 

Luca nodded as he rubbed at his eyes.  

“Let’s go wash up while Talia gets everything ready, ok?” 

Dieter put his hand on Luca’s shoulder and led him toward the bathroom to wash his hands. By the time they got back dinner was ready. Dieter helped Luca make a small plate while he made his own. Then we all sat down to eat. I noticed Luca didn’t get much food and finished eating quickly.  

“Luca, do you want any more? You didn’t eat much,” I said.  

He looked at me with wide eyes, “Is that allowed?”  

I could feel my heart shattering in my chest as Dieter and I shared a knowing look. It took everything in me to keep the tears at bay as I turned my attention back to the boy.  

“It’s absolutely allowed. You can have as much as you want.”  

His chocolate eyes lit up before murmuring out a quiet “thank you” as he stood from his seat to go refill his plate. Dieter reached over and gave my hand a squeeze before turning his attention to Luca, realizing the boy was too short to reach everything. He moved to help him. I took a moment to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I could already tell this whole experience was going to have a huge impact on me, emotionally.     

After dinner, we took the time to show Luca around the rest of the house and officially introduce him to Moony, our kangaroo eared dog, and our four foster pups. Dieter had recently converted one of the spare rooms downstairs into a “dog room” for the pups to hang out in while we were out of the house. It was the most ostentatious dog space I had ever seen. He had gone so far as to install a TV (on their level) and get a Dog TV subscription for them. They each had their own little dog houses and beds. He had even found a place to buy dog furniture. He finished it all off with wireless cameras that allowed him to talk to the dogs when he wasn’t in the room. It was beyond extra, but typical Dieter.  

Luca was in awe of the space and thought the mini dog couches were the funniest thing. He and Dieter went to sit on the floor in the middle of the room to get acquainted with everyone. The foster dogs were just happy to see people. Moony held back, slinking around the room sniffing in Luca’s direction. He was more cautious of the new person in his house, but he eventually approached the boy for pets. Within minutes, he was in Luca’s lap being cuddled, both of them smiling as they nuzzled against each other. I could already tell they were going to be fast friends.  

In the days that followed, Luca continued to remain quiet and reserved. However, I could tell he was beginning to relax as he got used to his surroundings and new routine. He was at his happiest when spending time with Dieter. Dieter had been spending all of his free time with the boy - painting, playing video games, playing with Moony. Anything he could think of doing that might distract Luca from the reality of his situation. I could often hear them laughing amongst themselves. It warmed my heart to see Dieter take on this new role and how he thrived in it.  

Dieter was so good with Luca, and I knew a lot of it had to do with their commonalities. Dieter had lost his mother under equally devastating circumstances, which helped him relate to Luca in a way that I would never be able to. It further solidified the bond they had already built before this life changing incident happened to Luca. It did make me worry about how things would go if Luca was unable to stay with us. I worried if Dieter could handle it.  

The conditions left me torn in how I wanted to handle things as well. I was still feeling like an outsider in this situation and unsure of how to navigate the changing dynamics in our household. I wanted to engage and be part of the bond they were building, but I also didn’t want to get too close in the event the situation was indeed temporary, as we were told it would be. I knew I would need to be strong for Dieter if Luca wasn’t able to stay with us. He said he could handle it but seeing them together didn’t give me a lot of confidence in his belief.  

As we got into the second week of having Luca with us, I noticed he seemed to be getting more curious about me. During the first instance, we were all sitting around the living room watching TV as I folded laundry. Luca was on the floor, playing with Moony. Once Moony ran out of energy and laid down for a nap, I realized Luca was watching me fold. After several minutes, he came closer, sitting in front of me.  

“Can I help?” he asked timidly.  

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. He was too adorable. I glanced toward Dieter, who was watching us with a smirk on his face.  

“Better watch it hombrecito (little man), she’s super picky about the folding.”  

Luca’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe Dieter said such a thing.  

I snorted, “Just because I don’t wad them up and stuff them in a random drawer doesn’t mean I’m picky.” I gave Luca a conspiratorial look, “He’s just messy. Don’t listen to him.”  

Luca laughed, “Yeah, he kinda is.”  

Dieter scoffed dramatically and I cackled. Luca’s comment had taken me off guard.  

“I see how it is, you two are ganging up on me now. I don’t like this,” Dieter said. 

Luca and I laughed, eventually settling down as I continued folding. Luca watched me fold a couple more items, then reached into the basket to grab a piece of clothing and got to work. He held it up to ask me if it was correct. He had folded it perfectly on the first try. Dieter and I both praised him, noting that he already folds better than Dieter, which led to more giggles from the boy as he worked on the next item. We worked in silence after that, listening to whatever TV show Dieter was watching. I noticed Dieter wasn’t paying much attention to the show though. Instead, he was watching Luca and I with a small smile on his lips. Once all of the laundry was folded, Luca offered to put his own clothes away himself. When he returned, he looked smug, seemingly proud of himself as he sat down next to Dieter on the couch. Dieter pulled the boy into his side and mussed his hair, thanking him for helping me.  

In the days that followed, Luca began checking in with me to see if he could help with anything. I started giving him small tasks like sweeping, vacuuming, helping carry the dishes to the kitchen, or pulling ingredients for meals. It was his way of trying to connect with me, and I accepted it. 

Toward the end of the second week, Dieter and I were lying in bed, barely awake after having spent the day clothes shopping with Luca. We were both absolutely spent from trying to get things sorted for Luca and caring for him throughout the week on top of dealing with home checks, interviews with CDSS, and getting our background checks completed. We had been so engrossed with taking care of the boy that we really hadn’t made any time for each other. Our only time together was at night, but we had been so tired since Luca came into our care that we hadn’t even taken advantage of it. On this night, we managed to get in some cuddle time before either of us fell asleep. After crawling into bed behind me and pulling me flush against his body, Dieter took the opportunity to check in with me to see how I was feeling about things.  

“It seems like Luca is warming up to you a bit…” 

I smiled, “Yeah, I think so too. His personality is starting to shine through a little more. I can tell he’s been spending too much time with you.”  

Dieter chuckled, “I’ve always wanted a miniature version of myself.”  

I snorted and nudged my shoulder backward against his, “You’re so ridiculous.”   

He laughed, but then it trailed off into a moment of silence before he spoke again. 

“Serious question…how are you feeling about things now? Better I hope?”  

I sighed. I was still holding back some, and I knew it. “I’m still a little apprehensive about things. I’m trying not to get attached to this kid. This was never meant to be permanent, remember?”  

Dieter went quiet for a beat, “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean we can’t care for him like he’s ours…show him what a healthy family dynamic is like. He’s never had that, and I know there’s a possibility that he may never get it again if he leaves us. I want him to have at least one positive experience to look back on, even if it does turn out to be a short one.” 

Dieter always had an interesting take on things like this. I knew it was rooted in his childhood experiences and everything he had gone through. I hadn’t thought about it like that and couldn’t disagree, “I hadn’t considered that view on things.” I finally admitted to him.  

I turned to face him, “You have such a good heart. I can’t disagree with that assessment and…I’ll try to do better by him.”  

Dieter leaned down and gently kissed me on the lips, before pulling back. “You have a good heart too, you just have to learn to open it up a little more.” 

I chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.”  

His hand gently brushed my hair back, “Maybe you two should go do something fun on your own. I know he’s been wanting to go to the Aquarium.” 

My eyes widened, “Dieter, I dunno about that. It helps to have you as a buffer.”  

He snickered, “You’ll be fine. The kid likes you and I’m certain you won’t be able to get him to shut up if he’s looking at animals. He gets so excited; he can’t help but to ask a million questions. You should take him on Saturday. I’ve got some work stuff I need to take care of.” 

My brows furrowed, “Work stuff? What work stuff?”  

He was fighting a smile now, “I have some scripts I need to look over.” 

I pursed my lips, “For some reason, I don’t believe you.”  

He smiled against my lips, kissing me between words, “It’s late. Time for bed bella durmiente (sleeping beauty).”  

I scoffed as he snuggled in next to me, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Change the subject. I’m on to you.”  

He laughed against my shoulder, “I’d like you to be, but I’m too fucking tired to be able to do anything about it.”  

I snorted, “Again, you’re ridiculous. Good night.”  

After giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, we wrapped up in each other and fell asleep quickly. 

That Saturday, I took Luca to the Aquarium as Dieter suggested. There was a comfortable silence between us during the ride there, however his bright-eyed look told me he was excited. It didn’t take long once we were inside for him to start peppering me with questions as Dieter said he would. He was an inquisitive little thing that had a serious thirst for knowledge. He was enthusiastic but also very well behaved. He seemed mature for his age when compared to the other kids running amok around the facility. Realizing that made me appreciate him a little more.  

Luca took the time to sit and observe the animals, studying each of them carefully. Whereas, most of the other kids gave them a quick glance, then were ready to move on to the next thing. Something about his curiosity made my heart flutter. Was it pride? I realized it was something that he and I had in common. I made a mental note of that for future reference.  

It seemed like hardly any time had passed as we slowly moved between exhibits, chatting about the animals. As the morning went on, I could tell he was getting more comfortable with me. He had started to gently tug on my hand to get my attention or loop his arm around mine and lean into my side as he pointed things out.  

By the time we reached the halfway point where the little cafe was, it was well past lunch time. Luca reluctantly agreed to take a break so we could grab a bite to eat. As we waited in line, I asked him what he wanted. He gave me that same wide-eyed stare he gave Dieter at McDonalds the first day. I gave him a few options off the menu as I had watched Dieter do. We finally narrowed it down to loaded nachos and a chocolate chip cookie.  

Luca got quiet after we were seated to eat. He didn’t seem to have a problem with companionable silence. He was a lot like Dieter and me in that way. It never failed to astonish me how well this kid fit into our lives. It was like the ‘powers that be’ had taken a piece from each of us to make him and put him in our path. Luca drew me out of my thoughts with a question that stunned me.  

“Are you and Mr. Dieter gonna be my new parents?” he asked with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

I nearly choked on the chip I had just stuck in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting this type of conversation today. I took a quick drink of my soda, “Did Dieter tell you that?” 

He shook his head, “No. I didn’t ask him because Mr. Dieter says you’re the boss.” 

I chuckled, “Well, at least he knows his place.” I took a deep breath, my brows furrowing as I thought through a response.  

“Is that something you would want to happen? For us to be your parents.”  

He nodded enthusiastically as he chomped down on a nacho.  

I gave him a sad smile, “You understand what that would mean right? That you would stay with us, forever.” 

He nodded again, “I like staying with you. You’re nice to me.”  

Of all the reasons he could have given, it was because we’re nice to him. My heart was breaking as I considered what those words meant. Was his mother not nice to him? I knew they were low income and struggled with basic needs, but this added a whole other layer to things.  

I could feel the tears beginning to pool in my eyes and I had to work to fight them back.  

I gave him another sad smile, “The decision isn’t up to us, bud…but I promise you…if it’s an option, we’ll do everything in our power to make it happen. If that’s what you truly want.”  

He was smiling now, “It is. I would like that.” 

My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I couldn't believe he had just asked me that. He obviously felt comfortable enough around me now to bring it up, which made me feel a whole other set of emotions. I was drawn from my thoughts by my buzzing phone in my pocket. It was from Dieter. 

Dieter: Hey! How’s it going? 

I smiled to myself. It was sweet that he was checking in. I glanced up at Luca who was leaning back in his seat, with his hand on his belly like he had eaten too much.  

“Dieter’s asking how it’s going. You wanna send him a picture?” 

Luca smiled and nodded before standing to walk over next to my seat. He leaned in against me and gave a toothy smile while I snapped a selfie of us. I showed him the picture and he gave a nod of approval as he moved back to his seat. With a smile, I sent it to Dieter. He started typing a response immediately. 

Dieter: Wow. Looks like some progress. You guys having fun?  

Me: Yeah, we are. Just finishing up with a late lunch. You were right, he has a lot of questions. 

Dieter: LOL! I’ll see you guys in a few hours then. I expect you still have a while. Let me know when you're heading this way and I’ll get dinner started. - te amo (love you) 

Me: Sounds like a plan. - te amo 

Luca and I went back to viewing the exhibits after that. He seemed to have a little more pep in his step during the second half of the day and he was still just as inquisitive about everything. After another hour and a half, we finally made it to the gift shop.  

“Go find yourself something to take home,” I said to him. His eyes widened at my words. He seemed very unsure of himself.  

“Like what?” he finally asked.  

“Whatever you wanna get.” He pursed his lips, still seeming unsure. “A toy maybe? I’m not sure what you like. You’re allowed to wander around and look if you want.”   

He shuffled down the nearest aisle, slowly scanning the shelves. He eventually ended up standing in front of a wall of books and began thumbing through them. He finally settled on an age-appropriate book on prehistoric fish. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he chose a book, but I was. He walked over and shyly handed it to me.  

“Is this one, ok?” he asked quietly. 

I gave him a bright smile and nodded, “Of course! Do you like to read?”  

He shrugged, “I’m not that good yet, but I like books.” 

I ruffled his hair, “Don’t worry, we’ll have you reading everything in no time. Dieter and I love to read too.” 

He gave me a toothy grin as I leaned down to whisper to him conspiratorially, “Ya know, I don’t count books as a strike against your purchase limit. Go grab you something else.” 

His eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing before he scurried off to find another item. I followed behind him, watching as he continued to take everything in and narrow down his choice. He finally settled on a stuffed otter. We had spent a lot of time watching them in their enclosure, so I wasn’t shocked. They seemed to be one of his favorites. We checked out after that, then made our way to the car.  

As I was sitting in traffic, I could see Luca in my rear view mirror, completely engrossed in his book with his otter hugged under one arm. His chubby little fingers were rubbing at its soft fuzzy fabric in between turning pages. Something about it was absolutely tugging at my heart. I wondered if he even had any books of his own before, or if perhaps he just borrowed them from school.  

“Luca, have you ever been to a bookstore?” I asked suddenly.  

His rounded chocolate eyes met mine in the mirror. His brows furrowed slightly, seeming confused by my question for a moment before answering, “No ma’am. I haven't.”  

A smile tugged at my lips, “Would you like to?”  

He nodded, fighting a smile, “That would be fun.”  

Minutes later, I turned into the local Barnes and Noble parking lot. I was suddenly feeling giddy to share this experience with him because I knew this would be a hobby we could bond over.  

When we entered the store, I grabbed a handheld basket. He gave me a questioning look, “Let’s fill this basket up, kid.”  

He snorted, following closely behind me until I found the correct aisle for him to browse. He seemed to have a thing about dinosaurs, gravitating toward those books first. After flipping through a couple, he eyed me cautiously as he slid one into the basket I was holding. I quirked an eyebrow at the one still in his hand, “You want that one too?”  

He chewed on his lip for a moment before slowly sliding that one into the basket. He looked like he was waiting for me to change my mind. Instead, I gave him a warm smile and encouraged him to keep looking. As we moved down the aisle, I pointed out some of my favorites like Narnia, Goosebumps, and Percy Jackson. He seemed a little intimidated by the chapter books at first, but after I promised that Dieter and I would read those with him it seemed to change his view on it a little and he happily added those to the basket as well. Luca and I got lost in the books together. Not realizing how much time had passed until I got another text from Dieter. 

Dieter: You two doing ok? Figured you’d be on your way back by now.  

Me: Yes! Sorry. We stopped off at the bookstore. About to check out.  

Dieter: K. I’ll get dinner started. See you soon. 😘 (kiss emoji)  

I sighed, “Looks like we’re being summoned for dinner. I think this is probably a good start. You ready to head home?”  

Luca gave me a wide smile and nodded. We made our way to the checkout counter, where I pointed out the bookmarks and told him to grab a couple for his chapter books. He quickly settled on two 3D hologram bookmarks, one with raccoons and the other with a shark. He slid them onto the counter as the cashier began to ring up our purchases. He stood beside me quietly, looking at all the little trinkets and magazines lining the bottom of the counter.  

I gave him a quick smile before glancing up at the cashier, who was watching us intently with a smile on her face.  

“Your son is sweet. He seems to really love books.”’ 

I shook my head slightly, unsure of how to respond to her comment, but also feeling a little choked up at the thought. My eyes darted to Luca who didn’t seem to have noticed the comment. I settled for a smile and nod, “Yeah, he really does.”  

We left the bookstore with several bags full. Both of us were laughing at the ridiculousness of it as we loaded them into the car. He was giggling as he got settled into his seat. It was the same giggle I often heard when he and Dieter were spending time together. It caused a bloom of feelings that I couldn’t describe. Feelings that made me warm and happy. Feelings that I didn’t want to let go.  

A short time later, we pulled into the garage. Luca helped me unload our spoils from the day and lug them into the house. Dieter was standing in front of the stove with a confused look on his face as he watched us carry the bags toward Luca’s room.  

When I returned to the kitchen, he switched off the stove eye and turned to me, “Sooo, what was all that?” 

I smiled, “Books. I need you to go buy a bookshelf for Luca tomorrow. Preferably a full sized one.”  

He chuckled, sliding his hands onto my hips as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the mouth, “Thank you for today. Thank you for trying. I know this isn’t easy on you.”  

I smiled against his lips, “Strangely enough, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be. Thank you for pushing me.” 

Luca came wandering into the kitchen, swinging his arms dramatically as he walked. He stopped in front of us, peering up at me with a shy smile, “Mrs. Talia, will you read with me after dinner?”  

I could feel Dieter smiling against my cheek as I turned to look at the boy, “Of course! We both will. How about you and Dieter go pick out a book while I finish up with dinner?”  

Luca smiled brightly, grabbing Dieter’s hand and tugging on it, “You heard her. Let’s go!” 

Dieter snorted, giving me one last quick kiss on the cheek before Luca pulled him down the hallway. I smiled to myself, suddenly feeling overly emotional. A few tears slipped out as I turned my back toward the direction they had gone. Things were going to be different after today. I knew that. I could already feel it. I didn’t want to give this kid up. I wanted him to be ours. Dieter hadn’t explicitly said that, but I could tell he felt the same way. If they did find family to take him in, letting him go was going to be hard on the both of us. I had been worried about Dieter being able to handle it, but now I questioned if I could.  

The following Monday, Luca was set to return to school. He seemed totally fine with it, but I was a bundle of nerves. I was worried it would be too much for him, too soon, even though he had been handling things without issue. When the alarm went off, Dieter moved to get out of bed, but I stopped him.  

“You sleep in, I’ll take him. I have a million questions about his paperwork. It’ll be easier if I handle it.”  

Dieter snuggled into my side, burying his face in my neck, “You sure? I can still go with you.”  

I turned to face him, scratching at his graying stubble and nuzzling against his nose, “It’s fine, you were up late with your scripts. Get some sleep. I’ll be back shortly.”  

I leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but he deepened it as his hand gripped my hip and pulled me tightly against the hardness in his boxer briefs.  

I smiled against his lips, “Mmmm, hold that thought until I get back.”  

He whined, giving me one last peck before pulling away, “Ok, fine. Hurry back to me, mi amor (my love).”  

His fingers trailed after me as I rolled out of bed, he had his infamous sad puppy look on his face before he buried himself under the blanket to fall back to sleep. I threw on my robe and wandered down the hallway to make sure Luca was awake. The sound of the shower coming from his bathroom told me he was. I headed back to the master suite to make myself presentable while Dieter snored away under his pile of blankets and pillows. Just as I opened the bedroom door to head toward the kitchen to make breakfast, Moony came bursting in. I had to move quickly to grab him before he jumped on the bed and woke Dieter. After shooing him into the hallway, I followed, closing the door behind me. Moony quickly disappeared into Luca’s room, leaving me in peace to make a quick breakfast.  

I was plating our scrambled egg and cheese sandwiches when Luca came skipping into the kitchen with Moony on his heels. He seemed excited to be going back to school, which surprised me. He was eager and ate quickly, occasionally sneaking small pieces of egg to Moony under the table. A habit he had obviously picked up from Dieter.  

Minutes later, we gathered our things, put Moony downstairs in the dog room with the rest of the crew, and headed toward the school. I didn’t really have questions about his paperwork. I might have over dramatized that some. I did, however, want to get as much information as I could about Luca. I knew I would have a ton of questions if given the chance to talk to someone.  

Luckily, Luca’s teacher, Miss Katie, was in the front office waiting for us to arrive. After introducing herself, she sent Luca ahead to class so we could chat.  

She gave me a warm smile as we watched Luca walk down the hallway toward his room, “I was delighted to hear that you and Dieter would be taking Luca in. He’s improved so much since he started spending time with Dieter in the mentoring program. I’m sure he’ll continue to do so now.”   

I shrugged, “Yeah, well, it may not be permanent. We’re still waiting to hear back about other family members.”  

She nodded solemnly, “I didn’t get the impression he had a lot of family.”  

My lips set into a tight line, “Can I ask you about his home life? I don’t know much about it.” 

She pursed her lips, “I mean, you’re his legal guardian now. So, I don’t see why not.”  

She paused briefly and sighed, “I don’t know much, but I don’t think it was good. They were low income…most weekends I sent food home with him to make sure he was covered. I’ve taken him to get a haircut a few times too. He often wore the same clothes several days in a row and came in dirty.”  

Her brows furrowed as she met my gaze, “It just seemed like his mom wasn’t very engaged with him. I always had a hard time getting her to respond, turn in paperwork, or come to meetings. When she did, she seemed distracted and honestly, sort of out of it. She would often leave him at school late. I’m not sure if it was because of work like she said or if she just forgot to get him. From what I’ve heard, she sort of went off the deep end after her husband died in that car accident. I don’t think she was very…present in his life if I’m being honest.” 

Hearing this made my heart ache. How had he turned out to be such a good kid through all that?  

Miss Katie was smiling now, “But like I said, the mentoring program did wonders for him. He really began to come out of his shell after starting that. I know Dieter spent extra time with him…to help with homework. I obviously couldn’t share any details with Dieter at the time, but based on his line of questioning, I think he knew Luca didn’t have a good home life. He always wanted to help with him any way he could.”   

I had to fight back tears. Dieter had been there for this kid more than I had realized. I should have been more involved early on, but it was his thing. I didn’t want to overstep. I never would have guessed this would be the result.  

“Well, while Luca is with us, we’ll definitely be involved with his academics. He’s a smart kid and has a serious thirst for knowledge. It’ll be a top priority. I also just wanna make sure he’s ok. He seems to be handling things too well. I’m not sure if he fully understands what’s happened.”  

She sucked in a deep breath, seeming to think through her response. “At his age, it’s hard to say. I think he probably has an understanding of what death is. What they usually don’t understand is the finality of it…that it’s forever…but, with his father having passed, he may understand it better than most kids his age.”  

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded in understanding, “Is it normal that he seems unbothered by it though? He hasn’t even really mentioned his mother at all…directly anyway.” 

She shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe he didn’t really have a strong bond with her. If that’s the case, then maybe not. You never know how trauma will affect a child. Has he seen a therapist or anything like that yet?”  

I shook my head, “Not yet. I’ve been in contact with someone we work closely with. She suggested we give him a little time to adjust before bringing him in…make sure he’s comfortable and feeling safe so that he’s more likely to trust the process and open up.”  

She gave me a warm smile, “Well, he couldn’t have been put with anyone better to help him through it. You guys are doing amazing work. I’m legitimately happy for him…and honestly, I hope he gets to stay with you.” 

I cleared my throat, fighting the tears that were threatening to fill my eyes, “Yeah, me too.” I huffed out a laugh, “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for chatting with me.” I paused, digging in my bag, “I almost forgot, here’s his updated paperwork. Please call me if he needs anything…or if you do.”  

We said our goodbyes after that. As I got back into the car to head home, I couldn’t help wondering about Luca’s relationship with his mother. It made me sad for him, that he didn’t seem to have had a nurturing figure in his life. More than ever, I wanted to give that to him. I wanted him to have a normal, happy, and loving family. It wasn’t up to me though. I was powerless to make it happen. I had to rely on others to make the choice and I hated it.  

By the time I pulled into the garage, I was feeling needy. I needed to be loved and comforted by my husband. I wanted to feel connected to him. He was the only one that could settle the storm brewing in my thoughts. All of the ‘what ifs’ and possible outcomes were weighing heavily on my heart, causing my chest to feel tight. It was a level of anxiety that I hadn't experienced in some time.  

When I got inside, I went straight to the bedroom. I found Dieter sprawled out on his back in nothing but his black boxer briefs, the covers now shoved off to the side. He was snoring lightly, completely unaware that I had returned. After undressing down to my bra and panties, I crawled into the bed beside him, propping myself up on one elbow and draping my other arm and a leg across him. My hand roamed the width of his broad chest, stirring him from his slumber.  

His eyes blinked open slowly as he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips.  

“Did you get everything figured out?” he asked with a gravelly tone.  

I nodded, not trusting my voice as I moved my hand to cup his cheek. His brows furrowed, his eyes now studying my face, “Everything ok?” 

My lips set into a tight line as I nodded again. I let out a stuttered breath, “I just…need you...I need you to calm my mind.”  

I didn’t have to say another word. Dieter knew what I needed. He knew how to get me out of my head before I spiraled to a place that wasn’t healthy for me to be. The connection that scared us so much in the beginning was now our refuge. It’s how we communicated and grounded each other when things got tough. We had perfected it into our own brand of therapy.  

He leaned forward, kissing me deeply. His hands roaming my body as he gently turned us so that I was on my back allowing him to settle between my thighs.  

His lips moved downward, his breath heating my neck as he spoke against it, “Concéntrate en mí, mi luz. Déjalo ir.” (Focus on me, my light. Let it go.)  

His fingertips trailed down between my breast, my stomach, then dipped under the black lace of my panties, finding their destination at the apex of my thighs and dipping into the slick. His motions elicited a soft moan from my lips, making me forget my worries for the time being. He had me coming undone in no time as his thumb worked the sensitive nub and his fingers curled inside of me, hitting the right spot that he knew so well. I arched up into him, grinding into his hand as he nuzzled his nose against mine, “That’s it baby. Take what you need from me.”  

His darkened eyes peered down into mine, watching the waves of pleasure wash over me as my jaw fell slack and I trembled beneath him. He kissed me sweetly, slowing his movements and allowing me to come down. As I worked to catch my breath, he sat back on his heels, sliding my panties down my legs as he scooted backwards off the bed. He stood to remove his boxer briefs before crawling back to the center of the bed, tucking his thighs underneath mine, then pulling me up to straddle his hips.  

We sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. My fingers combed through his messy curls as his hands explored my body, settling at the center of my back to unhook my bra. I quickly discarded it on the floor with the rest of our clothes. He hugged me tightly against his chest, our mouths now tasting each other as I moved against his hard length. His lips eventually moved downward as I rose up on my knees, sucking one nipple into his mouth with his hand massaging the other. I moaned into the top of his hair as I hugged him against me, feeling the heat of his mouth going straight to my core.  

His hand freed my breast, moving downward to encircle his hard length to notch the head at my entrance. Our gazes locked as I slowly sank down onto him. His jaw went slack once I began rocking my hips and peppering his face with kisses and whispers of “I love you”. He nuzzled his nose against mine, staring deeply into my eyes with an occasional sensual kiss thrown in. This was our therapy, reconnecting with one another in the most intimate way we knew how. Grounding ourselves and mentally resetting to take on our worries together.  

We went on like that for some time, our sweat covered bodies moving as one until we crashed over the edge together. I tightened around him as stars formed behind my eyelids. Dieter whimpered loudly into my mouth as he spilled into me for the first time in two weeks. It had been two weeks too long. We hadn’t gone that long without being intimate since before we were married, which only seemed to make things more intense than normal.  

We sat in silence, trying to catch our breath as we let physical touch do the talking for us. Our hands running through each other’s hair and sliding across damp skin. Dieter’s head lolled backwards, now looking at me with a dazed smile.  

“I missed you. Let’s not wait that long again. I don’t care if I’m half dead at bedtime, make me do it anyway.”  

I chuckled, “Noted. Hopefully it’ll slow down now that things are settled some.”  

He nodded before kissing me deeply, pulling away to rest his forehead against mine.  

“You wanna tell me what’s going on now? It’s talk time,” he said in a low voice. 

I smiled and leaned back slightly, scratching at his scalp as my eyes took in his beautiful face - his chocolate eyes with the newly formed wrinkles around them from his constant smiles, his curved nose that I loved nuzzling against mine, the grays in his scruffy beard that sent me into sensory overload when he rubbed them against my inner thighs. This was my medication. Him. He was the only thing I needed to be calm and talk through my feelings.  

I sighed, “I don’t wanna let him go, Dieter. I want him to be ours…and I’m not sure how I’ll handle any other outcome.”  

I felt his arms tighten around me, “I know, baby. Me too. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll get through it together. Just like we do everything else…” 

The tears were sliding down my cheeks now. His thumbs reached to wipe them away. I sniffled, “You know what he asked me the other day while we were at the aquarium?”  

He shook his head. I felt a smile tugging at my lips from the memory, “He asked if we’re gonna be his new parents. He said that’s what he wanted.” 

Dieter’s eyes pooled with tears, “He really said that?”  

I nodded, “He did. I told him that it’s not up to us, but if that’s what he wanted, we would try if given the option. I didn’t think you would object to that.”  

The tears were sliding down his cheeks now, but he was smiling. It was happy tears. He sighed, “I can’t help thinking that it’s all gonna work out. It’s just a feeling I have.” 

I reached up to wipe his tears away, “Do you ever wonder if all of this was meant to be? If our path was written in the stars from the beginning?” I inhaled a deep breath before continuing, “I mean…at what point does a series of coincidences become something more? We’re we destined to find each other and go through everything that we went through just so Luca could be in our lives? He probably wouldn’t be if things had happened differently. If we hadn't stayed in the same hotel in New York, or if you had lived just a few minutes farther away from me and I didn’t make it to you in time that night?” 

He huffed out a laugh, “I don’t know about any of that…but if our story is written for us…I wouldn’t change a thing because it brought us together. If that was the way it was meant to happen, then so be it…fuck free choice. I have to believe this is gonna go in our favor because everything else has, even if it was a hard path. It just feels right.” 

I gave him a sad smile, “I wish I could be as positive as you are about it, but I can’t get my hopes up. It’ll just crush me that much more if it doesn’t work out.”  

He kissed my forehead, “It’s ok, I have enough positivity about this for the both of us.” He pulled me tight against his chest, dipping his head to kiss my shoulder. “Can we stay like this until pickup time? I have two weeks to make up for.”  

I snorted out a laugh against his neck, “You’re so ridiculous.”  

He shrugged, “I’m sorry, my dick said he’s not done yet.”  

It was then that I realized he was already getting hard again, still nestled inside of me. I leaned back to look at him and was met with a mischievous smile.  

“Jesus Christ, Dieter! Already? Did you take Viagra or something?” I couldn’t hold back my laugh.  

He scoffed, looking offended at my suggestion. “I don’t need that shit. You know better. It's all me, baby. You do it to me.” He buried his face in my neck before inhaling deeply and groaning, “Fuck…you smell amazing. Why does that do things to me?”  

He fell over onto the bed, pulling me with him and setting off a fit of giggles which led into a rather playful round two.  

We did end up spending most of the morning in bed, eventually showering together, then having a late lunch. We both felt reinvigorated and ready to deal with whatever came our way. We needed that time together - time to regroup and share our emotions.  

I realized the disconnected feeling that I was having about the situation had now subsided. I was almost afraid to admit it, but as we picked Luca up from school that day, it felt like we were truly learning to be a family. It still scared me, but part of me also welcomed it. Luca was excited to see both of us there at pickup. The bright smile he gave us as he approached the car was completely worth it.  

We settled into a routine after that. Dieter and I would take turns dropping him off and picking him up from school. Sometimes we would both go when we could. Each night we would help him with his homework then spend some time reading before bed. I could see an improvement in his reading ability over the following weeks. His teacher was also reporting that he was having major improvements with his grades and seemed to be doing well emotionally. On the days he didn’t have a lot of homework, Dieter would teach him Spanish. He was picking it up quicker than me. It was clear, Luca was thriving in his new life. Dieter and I couldn’t have been prouder of him.  

When he wasn’t in school, he was with one of us - going to set with Dieter on his smaller jobs or hanging out with me in the office. He was forever inquisitive about everything happening around him, always full of questions on the drive home.  

Unfortunately, the more time Luca spent with us outside of the house, the more attention it brought from the paparazzi. We always avoided places where they lurked, but they were increasingly showing up in random locations. One late evening, they caught us leaving the office. Initially, they held back, filming from a distance. However, once I got Luca settled into the back seat, a couple of them appeared next to the car. They asked how I was doing. I played along and was polite at first, but then they asked about Luca. “Who is he? Why is he staying with you?” I shut them down, refusing to speak any further as I got into the driver's side to leave.  

A few days later, I was sitting on the couch, scrolling social media when I found some pictures of Dieter and Luca outside of a snow cone shop. The pictures linked to an online publication. Luca’s face was blurred out, but it was still rattling. The images showed Dieter and Luca laughing, Dieter with his arm around Luca’s shoulders as they waited in line, Dieter ruffling the boy's hair…just very mundane things that supported the most ridiculous article title: Does Dieter Bravo Have a Secret Love Child? 

I nearly choked on nothing as I read it. Scrolling further down into the article revealed more pictures of the both of us dropping Luca off at school and the three of us out and about in town. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. I tried not to pay it much attention until shared posts started showing up in my feed, and other articles citing that one as a source. It seemed to be getting out of hand in a matter of hours of the original article being published.  

I sighed, pulling myself up off the couch to go find Dieter. He and Luca were downstairs in the craft room, painting. The sliding glass doors were open, allowing the dogs to chase each other in and out of the house, causing absolute chaos. Yet, they were both engrossed in their painting, completely unaware of the madness. I sidled up to Dieter, rubbing at his shoulder to get his attention. Without stopping his paint strokes, he slid one arm around my waist and pulled me into his side, hugging me to him in silence.  

“Dieter, I need to show you something.”  

He nodded, still focused on his canvas. “OK, so show me.”  

I held my phone up in front of his face. His eyes widened as he took in the article title, the paint brush slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, splattering blue paint everywhere.  

“What the fuck?!?! Seriously?!?!”  

Luca paused, now turning to look at us. “What’s wrong?” he asked with eyes as wide as Dieter’s. Dieter burst out laughing as he realized what they were insinuating. “The bullshit they come up with…that one takes the cake.”  

I huffed, “Aren’t you concerned that’s gonna cause a frenzy though? They’ve already started bugging us.”  

He sighed, “That’s a good point…I have an interview scheduled for Friday. Maybe I can address it then? Or Maybe Elaine can do a press release? I dunno… I’ll call her tonight.” 

Luca was still watching us, wide-eyed. Dieter smiled at him, “It’s nothing hombrecito. Just the paps posting crazy stories about us.”  

Luca rolled his eyes and turned back around to work on his painting of what I assumed was Moony.  

Dieter grabbed my ass and squeezed gently, “Don’t worry about it, mi estrella (my star). I’ll take care of it.”  

He planted a juicy kiss on my lips. As he pulled away, Moony grabbed the paint brush he had dropped and took off outside. We watched in horror as two of the foster pups proceeded to try and grab it from him, getting blue paint all over their faces in the process.  

I snorted, “You’re cleaning that mess up.”  

Luca laughed loudly as Dieter dropped his head and slumped his shoulders in defeat.  

True to his word, Dieter did take care of the rumors. He addressed it during his interview, which was meant to focus on one of his new film projects. I tuned in to watch, nervous over how it would go.  

The interviewer opened by addressing the gossip head on, asking if it was true that he had a secret love child. Dieter laughed at the ridiculousness of it before diving into his response.  

“The short answer is no, I do not. I believe I was pretty open about being snipped before Talia and I got married. So, I’m not really sure how anyone came to that particular conclusion.”  

Then the interviewer asked, “And the long answer?” 

His demeanor changed, a genuine smile spreading across his face now. “We do have a young gentleman staying with us right now. He’s a minor, so I’m not gonna share any details…but I can say that I worked with him through the mentoring program that our foundation funds through the local school system. He’s found himself in an unfortunate situation and needed a place to go. So, we’ve opened our home to him until things get figured out.”  

“So, it’s temporary then?”  

Dieter shrugged, “That’s what they’re telling us for now, but we’ll see.” 

The interviewer gave him a warm smile, “Well, I hope things turn out the way you want them to. Thanks for sharing that with us. I know it’s been a hot topic the last few days. Now, let’s move on to your next film…”  

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. That seemed like it went well. My phone buzzed. It was Elaine.  

Elaine: Don’t worry. He answered it perfectly. That should calm things down. It’ll probably even translate to more (positive) press for him too.  

Me: Thanks. That helps calm my nerves some.  

Elaine: I know. 😏 (smirk emoji) 

I chuckled. She knew me too well.  

Things did settle down with the paparazzi after that. Thankfully. However, there was still a black cloud hanging over us. We were waiting for the call that would change everything. It had been two months since Luca had first come to stay with us. I had only received the occasional text thus far to say there were no updates. However, on this day, my phone lit up with an incoming call from Amber. My heart immediately started hammering in my chest out of fear of what news she would bring. I hesitated, but finally answered.  

“Hey Talia, it’s Amber. I wanted to give you a call to share the latest. We got a lead on an aunt…his dad’s sister. We’re working to track her down. It’s the only thing we’ve got so far though. I’m not sure how promising it is.” 

My mouth had gone dry, I almost couldn’t speak, “That’s…great news.” It sounded forced and disingenuous.  

I wasn’t sure if Amber picked up on it or not. If she did, she didn’t let on, “How’s he doing? Things still going well? We’re getting good reports from the school.”  

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, he’s doing great. He seems like he’s adjusted well.”  

“That’s good. You guys are doing a good job with him. Keep up the work. I’ll give you a call when I hear something new. Talk to you soon.” 

I had to force a “goodbye” out as I disconnected the call. This wasn’t the news that I wanted, and I dreaded sharing it with Dieter.  

Dieter took the news about like I thought he would. His optimistic attitude was beginning to wane. Having the uncertainty of everything hanging over our heads made it hard to enjoy our time together as a family. Every time my cell phone rang, it took us out of the moment and raised our anxiety to max levels. We hadn’t told Luca about the latest development, deciding that we wanted him to enjoy his time with us with as little worry as possible. He deserved that much.  

About three and a half months into Luca’s time with us, we were all in the dining room. I was cleaning up after dinner while Dieter helped Luca with his math homework, or rather, Luca was teaching Dieter how to do his math homework because Dieter wasn’t following. We were laughing at Dieter’s tirade about how ridiculous math is when my phone rang.  

I saw Amber’s name flash across my phone. My expression must have given it away because Dieter’s words trailed off as he gave me a worried look. I gave him a tight smile before stepping outside onto the deck to take the call.  

“Hey Amber, how are you?” I asked, trying to sound chipper and happy to talk to her.  

“Hey Talia! I’m good. How is everyone on your end?” 

I nodded as I responded, “G-Good. We’re all good here…” It didn’t sound very convincing.  

I could hear the smile in her voice, “That's great to hear. So, I’ll get to the point…After checking everything out, it looks like it’s all hinging on the aunt. There are no surviving grandparents and there doesn’t appear to be any other close relatives. We’re still trying to locate the aunt, but I’m gonna be honest…based on some of the feedback we’ve gotten, she may not be fit to take him even if she wants to. If that’s the case, then the next step is Luca becoming available for adoption.”  

I was quiet for a moment, processing her words. I was feeling both excitement and fear with this news. There was still a chance that someone else could get him, but we were one step closer. Amber interrupted my thoughts, “Is that something you think you guys might be interested in at this point? Adopting him? You get first dibs since he’s already with you.” 

I inhaled deeply, “Ummm…” Dieter caught my eye through the window. He was still sitting with Luca at the table, but watching me intently, looking for any sign as to what was happening with our conversation. “Yes, we want to. More than anything…but…I do have some concerns.”  

Amber was quiet for a moment, “Such as?” 

I let out a stuttered breath, “Will our mental health history be an issue? I don’t want to start this if there’s no chance…” 

Amber cut me off, “No, no. Absolutely not. You guys have been good for a while now. You’re both doing great, and you make a point to take care of yourselves in that regard…and it gives you a hand up in dealing with Luca’s trauma too. As long as your doctor supports and signs off on it, it’s a non-issue.”  

I sighed in relief. This was something that had been at the back of my mind that I was afraid to acknowledge, but it seemed like it was reaching the point where I needed to.  

“That’s good to hear. That gives me some hope then…but I don’t wanna get my hopes up either.”  

“I understand that. It’s not an easy situation. Being a foster parent is hard. It takes a strong person to let these kids in, knowing they may ultimately have to let them go and never see them again.” 

I huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think I can do this again. As much as I want to, I can’t.”  

“I can’t say I’m surprised by that. I’m happy you tried it though. At least you know what it’s about.”  

“Yeah…me too…” 

We ended the call after that. I was rubbing at my forehead as Dieter walked out onto the deck, silently closing the door behind him.  

“What did she say?” he asked. The look on his face could only be described as a mixture of fear and anguish.  

“They’re still looking for the aunt…but it’s down to her. There are no other options. If she can’t or doesn’t want to take him, then he’ll be available for adoption.”  

You could see the tension leave Dieter’s body as he closed the space between us and pulled me into a tight hug. 

“That’s good news then. We’re one step closer. It’s better than the alternative.” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I guess. You know…I feel kind of shity hoping that no one wants this kid. It’s sad for him. I don’t want him to feel unwanted and like he doesn’t have a family, yet that’s exactly what I’m wishing for. I feel selfish.”  

Dieter pushed some stray hairs back off my face, “That’s not true, mi vida (my life). He’s wanted and he does have a family…doesn’t matter if it’s not by blood. We wanna give him a life and we will…a fulfilling and happy one. That’ll be enough for him. So, wish away. It’s not selfish if we have good intentions.”  

I nodded, fighting back tears. He always knew the right thing to say to calm me.  

We decided to wait until we had more concrete news before we told Luca anything. I knew he had to be curious. He never asked though. We continued through our daily routine, living as a family and falling completely in love with the kid more and more with each passing day. He fit into our life so perfectly and was literally becoming a mini version of Dieter. Seeing them together made my heart feel complete, filling in that last little puzzle piece that I hadn’t even realized was missing.  

Seeing the fatherly side of Dieter was causing me to fall for him even more, which I didn’t realize was possible. The man had so much love to give now that he had opened himself up to it and he had no limits. I loved every version of him, but this one…it was something else.  

About a month later, I was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. Dieter had left to drop Luca off at school. I had just watched one of the foster dogs overturn a large bowl of water as they all caused chaos throughout the house, when my phone rang. It was Amber. I felt my stomach drop. I knew this call was going to change everything. It was the call we had been anxiously awaiting while simultaneously hoping it never came.  

As soon as Amber greeted me, I was trying to read her voice. She was giving me nothing as she got into her usual small talk. I finally had to cut her off.  

“Amber, I don’t mean to be rude, but can we cut to the chase? What’s going on?” 

She chuckled, “It’s not rude. I know you guys have been waiting for a while to see how this is gonna go.”  

I laughed nervously, “Yeah, we have.” 

I could hear her take a deep breath before she continued. It immediately set me on edge.  

“Well…depending on how you look at it, I have some good news.” 

That didn’t really tell me anything. In fact, it made me more nervous. “Ok, and that news is…?” 

She was smiling now, “So, we finally got in contact with the aunt. She’s not interested or even able to care for him. Which means you guys can start the process for adoption if you still want that.”  

I couldn’t hold back my tears. It took everything in me to keep from sobbing into the phone. “Yes. Yes, of course we do. I mean, I wanna talk to Luca about it first, but yes…we do.”  

“I thought you might say that. I’ll send the paperwork over this afternoon. I’m here to help you through the process, so let me know if you need anything.”  

I thanked her before disconnecting the call. I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, unable to move in disbelief. The sobs bubbled up from my chest, no longer able to contain them. I was feeling every emotion - excitement, happiness, relief. It was almost too much. Dieter came in from the garage just as I was allowing the emotions to overtake me. He immediately rushed over to me, engulfing me in his arms and pulling me tightly against his chest as he begged me to tell him what was going on. It took me a minute to finally compose myself enough to talk.  

I sniffled, “Amber just called…” 

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, looking like he was about to break as his eyes filled with tears.  

I shook my head, still sniffling, “N-No, it’s good news. The aunt…she didn’t want him. Amber’s sending the adoption paperwork over today.”  

I watched his features shift from distraught to excitement as a brilliant toothy smile spread across his face. His eyes flooded with happy tears as sobs rippled through his body. He pulled me back into a tight embrace mumbling sweet words into my neck. We were elated as realization set in that we were finally going to have a son.  

Dieter and I went to pick Luca up from school together that afternoon. We had decided that we would tell him the news at dinner and ask him how he felt about it. So, when Luca asked from the back seat why we were so smiley, it took everything in us not to say anything just yet. Dieter chuckled, changing the subject without answering him. Instead, he asked Luca what he wanted for dinner.  

He put his finger to his chin, like he was deep in thought, “Hmmm…how about…pizza!”  

Dieter and I laughed at his enthusiasm and agreed that it felt like a pizza night. To Luca’s delight, we stopped to pick up two pizzas on the way home. As we walked inside, I watched Luca go to his room to put his things away. A few minutes later he returned and without a word began preparing the dog's dinner while Dieter assisted. They disappeared downstairs to feed everyone while I pulled out cups and plates for us to eat once they were finished. The way we had settled into our life still amazed me most days and it was hitting me all over again that this would soon be permanent.  

Just as we were finishing up dinner, Dieter was the one to bring up the news. I watched as his fingers began to absentmindedly trace the groove in his glass of water. He was nervous. I reached over and took his other hand in mine, giving it a squeeze.  

“So…Luca, we got some news today that we wanna talk to you about.”  

Luca looked between us, his brown eyes wide and hopeful. Something told me he knew what it was about. He gently pushed his plate away and leaned forward on the table, waiting for Dieter to continue. 

“It looks like we’re gonna be given the opportunity to apply for adoption so that you can stay with us…but we wanna make sure you’re ok with that first.”  

Luca’s brows furrowed, “Does that mean you can be my parents for real?” 

Dieter shot a nervous glance in my direction before looking back at the boy, “Yeah, that means we can be your parents for real. You would be stuck with us, forever.” 

Luca’s eyes filled with tears, “Really? I can stay here?”  

Dieter and I both nodded. Luca launched out of his seat to run around the table and hug us.  

“We still have to go through the process, and it has to be approved by the court, but we’re gonna do everything we can to make it official.” I added. I wanted to make it clear that we still had a process to get through. It didn’t matter though, the prospect of it was enough. We were all a crying mess before it was all said and done. Excited about the news and possibilities.  

Dieter and I worked to get the paperwork started and submitted within days of receiving it. It was a long and arduous process, but we managed it. After eleven months of jumping through all the hoops of paperwork, home visits, check ins, and interviews, we finally got our adoption hearing with the court. The entire family joined us as did many of our close friends. Several representatives from the school and CDSS were in attendance as well to show their support in addition to the numerous letters of support that had been submitted to the court on our behalf. With no dissent or challenges to the adoption, the judge had no issues with approving it. The judge praised us for the work we were doing with Luca and with the community. Everyone broke out into cheers as Dieter pulled Luca and I into his chest for a group hug. We couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.  

As we exited the courthouse, we thanked everyone who came to support us. Luca had a smile on his face through it all, holding on to mine and Dieter’s hands as we walked through the building. It was an emotionally exhausting morning for us, but we were in high spirits as we reached the car, discussing where to go for a celebratory lunch.

Dieter dropped Luca’s hand to reach for the back door to open for him, but Luca, who was still holding my hand tightly in his other one, grabbed Dieter’s wrist, stopping him from opening the door. We both paused, giving him a questioning look. 

“Does this mean I can call you mom and dad now?” he asked in a shy voice as he looked between the two of us.  

Dieter and I glanced at each other, both of us clearly getting emotional all over again as tears pooled in our eyes before kneeling down to Luca and pulling him into a hug. We sat there in silence for a brief time, all of us sniffling like fools.  

“You can call us whatever you want, hombrecito (little man),” Dieter finally said.  

“Within reason,” I added with a chuckle.  

Dieter and Luca snorted as I mussed the boy’s hair. Luca leaned over to Dieter conspiratorially, “I guess mujer mandona (bossy woman) is out of the question then?”  

Dieter’s tea kettle laugh sounded across the parking lot as he shook his head from side to side. I stared at the two of them trying to figure out what was so damn funny.  

Dieter finally sputtered out between chuckles, “I would probably avoid that one, bud.” 

I huffed, looking at Luca, “What did you say?” The only response he gave was to shake his head, still smiling. I looked toward Dieter, “What did he say? Dieter?”   

Dieter laughed harder, refusing to answer me as he continued to shake his head and hold his stomach with his hand.  

“Ok, I see how it is you two...You're on dinner duty tonight for that.” I said as I got into the passenger seat of the car, smiling and shaking my head at them.  

Dieter opened the back door, allowing Luca to plop down before he got into the driver's seat. They were both still chuckling as I gave them some serious side eye. Dieter suddenly gasped loudly, “I have an idea! Let’s head off the gossip columns and make it Instagram official.”  

I arched an eyebrow in his direction, then looked at Luca. He smiled and shrugged, “Sure.” 

Dieter pulled out his phone as Luca scooted forward to lean between the front seats. Dieter squished his cheek against Luca’s and held his arm out to take a picture, but paused, then turned to look at me.  

“Come on mama, you’re gonna be in it too,” he said with a smirk. Luca was smiling at me now too.  

His words and their smiles made my heart flutter in my chest, causing me to feel almost giddy. How could I say no to that? I leaned forward and squished my cheek against Luca’s while Dieter did the same to the other side. All of us gave the camera cheesy smiles as he snapped a few pics. We examined the images and picked the best one, all giving our approval before Dieter went to work.  

Once Dieter made the post, he shoved his phone away and gave me a lopsided grin. I narrowed my eyes at him as I unlocked my phone to check Instagram.  

The post was already racking up likes and comments. It was a cute picture, with an even cuter caption: “Our family just got bigger. It’s Luca Bravo’s gotcha day! Your mama and papa love you, hombrecito!”  

For the first time in months, I felt light and unencumbered. We were finally a family without worry and full of love and happiness. What more could we possibly ask for?  

Dieter’s hand moved to my thigh, squeezing gently as he pulled out onto the main road to be immediately stopped by a red light. He glanced over at me with a mischievous grin.  

“What are you smiling about?” I asked. 

He fought to keep a straight face as he glanced at me for a second time, “Me and Luca want a baby goat.”  

Well…there’s that.  

A/N: Everyone, give a big cheer for Dieter and Talia's one year anniversary! I can't believe it's been a year since I introduced these two to the world. Thank you for all the love and support you have given to them (and me) through it all. I'm sure we will see more of these two at some point. We need to know how Dieter finally ended up with that baby goat that he wanted so badly...

Now that we have learned the details about how Luca came to be in their care and Dieter and Talia's journey to expand their family, does that change your view on the events that come later in the Epilogue? They really have been put through it.

And we got more Daddy Dieter goodness, that's always fun. Doesn't he just make you melt? I think how he handled everything in this oneshot shows just how much he has grown...and how much Talia has too.

I'll stop rambling now. Sound off about your thoughts with a comment or reblog. You know I love to hear them!

Want more Dieter & Talia? Check out their story at the links below:

✨Destiny & Deliverance is where it all started.

✨The Light in the Darkness tells us the story from Dieter's POV. (New chapters coming soon.)

If you would like to be added to the Destiny & Deliverance Universe tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Divider Credits: Reblog/MDNI: @cafekitsune Stars: @saradika

D&D Taglist: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94  @for-a-longlongtime 

@hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring  @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs 

@cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury  @missladym1981 

@maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love  @themonadiaries-blog 

@madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts  @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed 

@tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt  @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk 

@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent  @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited @babycatkitty 

@stevie75 @jessthebaker  @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @txlady37 @knownasyami 

@annalovesflorida @imdrinkingpedro @sunnytuliptime @pedrostories @dieterbravobrainrotclub

[bllk-after-dark]

20% off on our OF!!

pairing. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, both of you are 'pornstars', praise kink, mastrubation, vaginal sex, squirting, mention of cum in pussy, written in lowercase

series. part two

isagi yoichi. he‘s tight on money and so he does some research for quick money. of course he heard of onlyfans, but when it got suggested to him… it didn’t leave his mind and so he gathered his courage, after days of thinking about it and asked you if you would join him. he was relieved you agreed, he doesn’t want to do this without you.

the two of you are very new to this, but after doing some research (spying on other people’s accounts), you really get into it. it starts making fun, not only a second source of income. the two of you always giggle and blush at the praise you get, when your buyers call the both of you pretty, so fuckable, so cute and pliant after several orgasms.

you gain experience, and slowly you get bolder. both of you agreed to never show your faces, but the cameras linger longer on your upper bodies, showing chest and neck, sometimes even your chin. it’s dangerous, and it’s thrilling. not to mention, you get money, money for showing off his dick and your pussy, cumming while a whole audience watches, panting and moaning for more.

nagi seishiro. he spends so much money on his games, it’s unreal. and even if reo lends him some of it, nagi feels always bad for it. he likes to be spoiled, but he doesn’t want to be indebted. and so he turns to you, asking if you would join him on onlyfans. you’re shocked at first, but in the end, you agree.

in the beginning it’s only some jacking off, nagi making you cum on his fingers, or some of your nudes, showing off your body.

but then the two of you really get into it, especially you. nagi looks so pretty with his eyes lidded, panting and whining, all while you wrap your hand around his dick, pressing your thumb on his slit, slowly torturing him until his thighs shake. it’s one of your most bought videos, nagi sitting on the chair, naked and his head thrown back, all while you ruin him with nothing more than your hand.

it becomes an addiction for him. to be praised and spoiled by you and the audience. nagi makes such a good sub, such a sweet and good boy, you’re so glad he asked you to be part of his onlyfans account. without it, you would’ve never found it out, the praise kink nagi has.

mikage reo. you ask him to appear in one of your videos. your onlyfans account has been up for a while, filled with videos where you pleasure yourself, always alone, never another man or woman with you. but then you appear on the top 100 and you thought it would be a good celebration, to have a video where someone fucks you stupid. not only would it sell well, it would also finally be chance to have good dick again.

so when you ask reo, you know he wouldn’t agree because of the money, not when he’s the heir of a rich family. he finds you attractive, of course he wants to have sex with you! you’re over the moon when he agrees, a faint blush in his face.

when you finally upload the video that’s barely 30 minutes long, it breaks your own records in days. it’s your most popular piece and so many ask for reo to come back, the mysterious man who ruined your pussy, filling you with his cum and making you sob as you squirt all over him. reo never shows his face in your future videos, but your fans can always tell it’s the same man.

anne. hehe 🤭

[parkerdoeswriting]

I’m in Love With How You Feel

(TASM!Peter x PregTeen!Reader)

category: fluff oneshot

summary: preggo teen!reader and peter discuss baby and living situations

warnings: (teen) pregnancy, reader is written to be afab but is referred in neutral terms

word count: 0.8k

A/N: im lowkey tempted to make this like a just teeny tiny series with two or three more parts so if that’s something at least one person wants to see I will write it

pt 2 to Anyone Else But You, but you don’t gotta read it to understand this

“Hello goober” Peter coos into your bump, pressing small kisses to the surface of it.

“Goober?” you laugh, ruffling his hair.

He smiles dorkishly at you, his hands caressing your bump.

You’ve been pregnant for around 5 months, and ever since then, Peter could not keep his hands off your stomach. He tried not to touch it during school, so as to not drag attention to it, but you were getting to the point where your bump showed against your baggy sweaters.

You managed to somehow inform your parents of the news, and thankfully they didn’t kill you on the spot. They were upset at you and Peter of course, but they noticed how happy you two were and so they supported you both, and were excited to meet their future grandchild.

Then next was May, Aunt May. Peter felt better telling her about the baby then you were telling your parents. You can still see her expression when you both told her of the situation, a mix of shock and pure joy. Her arms wrapping around you both to give you a soul crushing bear hug.

“Are you staying the night?” you ask him, your hands resting on your bump gently.

“Mhm, never gonna leave you” he mumbles against your belly.

You chuckle softly at his words, petting his hair as he practically clings to you.

“You’re gonna have to go home eventually” you remark, making little ponytails in his hair.

“Nope, gonna bring you with me” he smirks cheekily at you, sitting up so he can wrap you up in his arms.

“That reminds me actually, when I do give birth, are you gonna visit a lot?” you ask, rubbing your bump.

“Well.. I was hoping we could live together so I can help at night” he says, pressing small kisses to your cheek.

“Like- get an apartment?!” you tilt your head in confusion.

“Mhm, I’m starting a job soon so I’ll start getting some sort of income” he plays with your hair.

“I don’t know if we can even rent- cause we aren’t eighteen yet..” you sigh, frowning softly.

He sighs as well as he looks up at you, his lower lip jutting out. It’s been hard figuring out what you should both do after the birth of the baby, Peter doesn’t want to leave you to be the carer the majority of the time, and you don’t want him to miss out on his education, which has caused a small strain in your relationship.

“Well, we could either do like a week here and a week at my place, or I could spend all my nights here? I’m sure May would understand” he offers sweetly, reaching for your hand.

“I kinda like the idea of a week there and a week here, we could do that after a couple weeks after this demon is born” You giggle at my joke, putting his hands back on your bump.

As if on cue, the baby kicks against your stomach. Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at you in shock, laughing softly.

“Our little demon” he leans in to kiss you, his thumbs rubbing circles on your bump.

“We still gotta figure out names” you whisper to him, looking down at your bump.

“Stinker if it’s a boy, stinkerette if it’s a girl” he chuckles.

“Stop fooling around” you laugh back, messing his hair up.

“Fine, what do you think we should name ‘em?” he reaches for your hair in return, giving it a quick mess up.

“Dunno, was thinking maybe Juno for a girl?” you giggle mischievously.

“We are not naming our child after that movie” he laughs, planting his face back into your bump.

“Oh come on.. it’s a very beautiful name” you pout.

He shakes his head, his nose brushing against your belly. You scoff playfully at him, shifting your body so you’re lying on your back.

“Noo.. don’t move” he mumbles, trying to hold you in place.

“Just laying down Pete” you stretch out, yawning.

“You sleepy?” his head pops up.

“Always” you chuckle at your little joke.

He moves his face from your bump up to your face as he lays next to you, paying attention to you. He cups your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. It was all like some sort of routine of his, he’d spend time making sure the baby felt loved and cared for, and then made sure his baby felt loved and cared for as well.

“Love you” he mumbles assuringly, staring deep into your eyes.

You blush, leaning into his touch, cupping his hands with yours.

“Love you too” you smile, yawning again.

He moves on his side, his body pressing against your sides as he lays his leg over yours, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. You know he won’t fall asleep until you do, but it doesn’t matter. You slowly feel yourself fade into dreamland, the stress from the pregnancy dripping away with each second you let yourself succumb.

[reddesires]

RUINS.

Chapter 2: Time Will Tell.

Summary: Could there be a world that would be accepting of kinship between an ape and a human? It's only by chance that you came across him, an ape who craves more of the outside world beyond his clans borders. Will there be common ground, or will your past prevent you from making the same mistakes?

Rating: No Warnings.

A/N: It's coming along. I'm actually glad that I'm pushing myself to write this series because it helps broaden my horizons by using new synonyms I haven't before and just creates potential works I could possibly come up with for the future.

Who would've thought you would put yourself in this position?

Your body on autopilot as you threw your hand out into the boundless open sky that often embraced your deepest regrets and unrelenting dread, the red lining depths transitioning into clear blue that painted the horizon bathing you in the dawn.

The fear sweat lining your palms as your hands gripped into his furry forearm, the sockets of your arms trembling under the muscular weight that your unyielding grip refuses to release.

You could see his eyes taking you in, the tremble of disbelief that is trying to register this scene into his mind. You're just as shocked as him. Risking yourself for someone who may just hate your humanness to the core, your existence nothing more than a pest that should be eradicated from the earth, his very species have overruled.

It didn't matter to you at that moment. His scream of panic set off a feeling a little too known to you, uncapped a painful reality.

“Mind giving me a little help?” The ground below painfully flattens the pressure from your lungs, compensated by pulling backwards into the safety of the shelter, you wondered if once he made it into safe ground would he plunder his fists into the vulnerability of your back? Your bones crushing under the sheer power of the devastating blows, entirely ridding you of all life that clings to every vein and tendon..would your life be the consequence of saving his?

All questions but no answers as you help this ape from his untimely death, a death you had no will to bear witness to. As you pull him over the ledge with the help of his mustered strength, you're taken aback, the flashes of a what if passing before your eyes..he's shrouded by a figure that is not of himself but another, another that no longer walks this earth, that has long since ascended far from the soil you walked upon.

The rays that shone down on him honeyed his fur, his hackles raised in what seemed like a state of shock, the green of his eyes reminding you of the meadows that you used to frequent, the flecks of gold only adding the marigold accent of your memories, he held wild flowers in his irises.

“Are you okay?..” The question came out almost strangled, the allure but fear that struck down on you as you gazed upon your potential undoing, he could very well be your bane, the cause of your own untimely death.

The resounding hollers of his companions make you tremble with trepidation, the quiver of your lip catching his attention, you resembled an alarmed fawn, just awaiting the moment to bolt in hopes of evading oncoming danger.

You looked worse for wear and he felt a pull of empathy, he was unsure of you but you saved him and there was gratitude that gnawed at his mind, he was stuck in a limbo at your presence to even begin to express it, his emotions hitting him from all incoming sides.

Soona and Anaya grab onto Noa as soon as they reach the alcove, checking him over, not yet noticing the human staring awkwardly at the scene, unsure of what to do or say. Noa extends his hand, pointing before he finally utters

“She saved me..” There was no malice, no distaste in his tone, just pure awe and it startled you when his companions quickly looked to you, their own expressions of astonish overtaking their faces. There was a fuckton of unease coursing through your body right now, the tingling running from your fingertips down to your toes almost made you lightheaded, not only are you being stared down by 3 apes but there was no escape plan for this kind of scenario, the hole in the wall would do little to absolutely no good of protecting you.

“I didn't want you to die..” It was a half truth, you truly didn't want him to meet his end but your body reacted by second nature, the neurons in your brain delayed but the nerves in your body on automatic, it was the oddest thing but you can't say you regretted it.

You are terrorized by remnants of death surrounding you, the thought of your existence being a curse to those around you that overrides every other logical idea that corroded the inners of your brain, if there was a chance to save a soul thrown in front of you, you took it without hesitation.

“Thank you.. My name is Noa.” As he's introducing himself, his hands are signing in a way that was all too familiar to you, you were taught to sign in the same dialect and it sent a wave of nostalgia over you, you were only able to keep your head above water for so long as you're constantly reminded of the life you had no choice of leaving behind.

“I'm (Name), your friends?” You gently gesture to them, hoping that your interest in them shows your docile intentions, they weren't defensive by any means calmed by their friend's peaceful approach, you could tell there is a strong bond between them from the way their eyes stray back and forth between you and Noa, a gleam of trust but unease, they're unsure of your nature and what will come from you being there but they trust Noa enough to know that he'll handle the situation they're presented with

“My friends, Soona and Anaya.” He quickly glances at them with a smile as he reassuringly gestures to them, Anaya almost waves shyly but you think it isn't so much shyness but anxiety and Soona has a mask of protectiveness as she slightly nods at you, you understood the distance as you felt the tension in the back of your neck, you were just as much on edge as they were.

Noa was a stranger to you but his aura gave you what seemed like dejavu, like you've met him before but you know that was impossible, you have never been to this valley before now and you traveled miles from your last location.

“There was more.. of you..” He says in esteem, your eyebrows furrow at his statement, more of you? Did he mean humans who spoke? You knew it was few and far of intelligent humans left. You haven't been in contact with another like you in years, not since losing your mother and others in your tribe.

You step forward the question clear on your face, Noa shows no sign of fear to your movement as he looks you over observing the state of your clothing and the scars that laid home onto your otherwise smooth skin, you posed no threat to them after all you did save his life with no reserve and it was like an opportunity was standing right in front of him, an open door that was tossed open in a form of a Echo who risked their own safety for his sake.

“You've met more humans like me?” There was intrigue that broke through the amazed timbre of your voice, he felt guilt prick at his mind as the reality that Mae just have been the last of intelligent humans left other than you but she was long gone now so he now had no revenlant information to give if you were in search for others like yourself but nonetheless he nodded.

You smiled to yourself as a feeling of unknown unresolved bitterness built up in your heart, despite it being a revelation of knowing there was others out there, you had no motive of going out looking for them, you've lived your life apart from them for so long that there was little to no exigency for their community.

“Are you alone?” Anaya's voice holds no reserve but has a soft edge, it's almost like he has a hunch that you are but not wanting to overstep, Soona shifts looking at her friends before also looking you over, her observations concluding that you aren't dirty nor starving but there's an exhaustion that clings to the delicate skin underneath your eyes, almost like you haven't slept properly in a long time and she can't help feeling pity, if you truly were alone then you had no coverage or protection while your vulnerable body was swept into the throes of sleep. She was cautious of the fleeting nature of humans from her prior experiences with them, but you saved Noa when she wasn't able to, so you have earned a quiet respect from her.

“For a long time now..” Your answer hung in the air, your sadness seeping through the cracks and tainting the atmosphere surrounding, the lure of devastation radiated off of your figure, the day's light shining through the alcove and bathing your figure in warmth, it truly contradicted the cold reality of your situation as the rays envelope you with its illuminating tendrils lightening the deep colouration of your hair and the silky undertone of your skin, such a sad but unusually beautiful sight.

There was so much to humans Noa didn't understand, from what he took from his experience with Mae is that humans can be deceptive but there's a whisper of haunted sorrow to them, resilient but dangerous in many ways, Apes have no reason to not express their motives, their thoughts, and their experiences but humans are a labyrinth of encapsulating enigmas.

A maze that he wanted to run through to better understand their nature, a living history piece that carries these similarities from times long before them, you were a bridge to what he's been looking for.

You may carry the knowledge of things he didn't quite understand.

“It's dangerous..to be out here alone..” His concern is gentle, his envy colored eyes holding a docility that pulls a tremble to your bottom lip. You bite down on it in an attempt to stop it. You were more than aware of that truth, the fear enveloped you as the night skies fell upon you, the shadows that taunted you as you curled into your corner with hopes of daybreak coming on soon just so you could live to see its light break through the horizon another day.

Soona and Anaya look to Noa, knowing the implication he was suggesting, but they put up no counter to his decision. They trusted his judgment but there were doubts that the others in Eagle Clan would be so accepting of having an Echo within their lands, the Elders most definitely would be against such a bold ask, they're old ways of being often backing their rebut to Noa's newer perspectives and courses of action.

He wouldn't miss this opportunity, the opportunity to open himself up to what Raka suggested he learn about the world before him. Finding out why humans meant so much to Caesar and his way of being, but as he looks at you, he can understand the empathy Caesar had for humans. The emotion filled eyes that gazed back at him made his stomach turn but not in an unpleasant way but with familiarity to those he loved, the way he felt when Apes expressed their own sadness.

Humans felt just like Apes did, but do they love the way they do? Build a community like Ape? How alike are they? As he extends his hand out and the question falls from him, he can feel the metaphorical bridge building from under his feet to yours just hoping you'll cross over onto his side to grasp his own hand.

“Will you come with us?” He was not only offering you salvation but genuine connection between you as two different species, and you had an inkling it was exactly that. You are reminded of the past far behind you, the extension of ape to a human to build a connection that was weakened by time and hatred.

Your fingers trembled as you slowly walked that bridge, walked into the unknown of where this could possibly lead you.

Would this only end in blood ash? Or would this bond withstand the history that towered over ape and humankind?

Time would only tell as you gripped his hand into yours, the skin of his palm pressing against your scarred one.

“Yes.” 

TAGLIST:

@ohwaitimthewriter

@unlikelyfoxpaper

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 41

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

As the cold grip of winter finally released its hold on Velaris, the city bloomed with vibrant colors and new life. Two months had passed by in a blur for you, filled with countless projects and community growth initiatives. Your first group home for struggling parents and their children had officially opened, and it was met with resounding success. The pride that shone from Azriel's eyes as he stood by your side at the grand opening was palpable.

Working closely with Titania, you continued to build relationships between yourself and other pleasure makers who were hesitant to come out of the shadows and seek help. You delved deeper into the underbelly of Velaris, learning about the social pressure that kept pleasure houses sequestered in the darker parts of the city. Even healers refused to see them, dismissing them as unworthy patients. But with your determination and aid, a low-income health clinic was established within one of the homes you built. It became a vital resource for pleasure makers to receive personal healthcare and get their children checked up during their early years.

Everything was thriving - your projects, your community, and most importantly, yourself. Your mate remained quiet as always, but you felt content in your life. Though you still avoided large court events out of fear of seeing Philip, whom you refused to acknowledge as your father, you continued to hold meetings with High Lords to build their own resilience within their territories.

As Nesta's pregnancy progressed, her body swelled with the changes. She was plagued by early pregnancy symptoms: every part of her seemed to be inflamed, she couldn't even fathom the thought of food without feeling nauseous, and she was constantly exhausted. But despite all of this, there was a newfound brightness and happiness emanating from her. Her skin glowed with a radiance, her hair shone like spun silk, and her mood had improved greatly. In the midst of all this, you made it a point to set aside one day each week to spend the entire day with her. Cassian, on the other hand, pleaded with her to stop training with the Valkyries. This led to a heated argument that resulted in Cassian sleeping on the couch of the townhouse. However, as Nesta's baby bump grew more prominent and her usual training leathers no longer fit comfortably, not to mention the rising temperatures in the training ring, she began spending more time sitting on the sidelines and helping young females with their centering and breathing techniques.

—

Nesta stood next to you, her shoulders slumped in frustration as she stared at the wall. It was split down the middle, with two shades of green that were barely distinguishable from each other. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, her long fingers tapping impatiently as she sucked her lip between her teeth.

"So," you began, studying the two shades of green before you. "What did you need my opinion on?"

She gestured towards the wall, her index finger hovering between the two shades. "Which one?"

You glanced at her and then back at the wall, trying to discern the difference between the two shades. "Which color?"

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh, taking a step closer to the wall. With a flourish of her hand, she pointed to one side. "Sage green?" Her finger then slid over to the other side. "Or Brush green?"

You furrowed your own brow, trying to make a decision based on such subtle variations. Nesta's fuse was getting shorter by the second, and you knew your response needed to be quick. "I think the sage looks nice," you replied tentatively, mustering up a small smile.

Nesta stepped back to survey both shades again. "Are you sure?" she asked with doubt lacing her voice.

You nodded, but without much confidence behind it. Suddenly, the entire wall shifted and transformed into just one shade of green, thought if she asked you if the color was sage or brush you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Nesta looked back at you, running her tongue over her teeth as she considered the new look.

"You don't think it's too green?" she asked, eyes searching your face for an answer.

You struggled to form an answer. To be honest, green was just...green to you. The subtle differences in shades didn't seem all that significant in this moment. "I don't think so," you offered tentatively.

Nesta didn't even spare you a glance as she considered your words. Your opinion held little weight in her mind, and you were well aware of that fact. Her own opinions were firmly solidified and what she really needed was someone to validate them.

"I think I hate it," she declared, her decision final. "Let's try the cream again." And with that, the house washed over the wall once more, painting it a light cream color for Nesta to scrutinize once again.

With a sigh, you spun on your heel and made your way over to the rocking chair that Cassian and Azriel had spent the last two hours putting together. Despite their efforts, there were still some doubts in your mind about the stability of the chair, especially since Azriel had pointed out that they had initially put the legs on backwards and had to redo their work. And if that wasn't enough, you were pretty sure the armrests were also attached the wrong way. You kept this thought to yourself, knowing how hard they had worked on it.

Nesta took a few cautious steps back, her hand resting gently on her swollen stomach. She closed her eyes and let out a small moan, her fingers grazing over the soft knit of her cream-colored sweater. With her other hand, she rubbed her lower back in search of relief from the pain that typically lingered in her body now.

"I also like the cream color," you chimed in, pulling your legs up onto the rocker with you. You reached for a blanket that was sitting nearby, admiring the delicate embroidered flowers that adorned it. You knew it was Elain's handiwork - she always seemed to have a new hobby she was mastering. As you let your fingers trace over the pinks and greens of the design, you couldn't help but wonder if someday she would make an embroidered blanket for your own babe.

Nesta's frustrated groan snapped you out of your daydreaming as she turned towards you. "None of it looks right," she complained, gesturing towards the various swatches of fabric and paint samples scattered around the room. "The green clashes with everything, the cream is too plain, and there’s no way the blue works in this room." You weren't entirely sure what she meant by a color "working", but you nodded along in agreement nonetheless.

Her gaze drifted towards the wooden box sitting in the corner as she let out a loud grumbling groan, "Cassian was supposed to build the crib this morning before he left." You craned your neck to look at the large wooden crate adorned with a crudely drawn image of a crib.

"I can do it," you offered, turning back to Nesta who was now staring at the wall.

She waved a dismissive hand, "No, no," she insisted. "Cassian made a promise and I intend to hold him to it."

You couldn't help but smile and bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You knew that Cassian was in for a tongue-lashing when he returned home, but you suspected that he and Azriel were most likely hiding somewhere in the War Camps or deep in the woods. You remembered Cassian admitting to you at a family dinner once that he would rather be covered in mud and shit than face Nesta's wrath.

In a calmer, more soft voice, you offered, “It’s all going to look great, Nesta.”

Nesta's hands instinctively went to her belly, cradling it protectively. She let out a deep sigh before sitting down on a nearby wooden crate with a drawing of a changing table on it. Her face fell into her hands, her fingers tangling in her disheveled hair. You could see the exhaustion and stress etched on her face as you folded up the baby blanket and set it aside.

"Is it just about the nursery?" Your question hung in the air as Nesta turned away from you, staring at the paint-splattered ceiling. You folded up a soft blanket and placed it next to you on the side table, trying to catch Nesta's gaze.

But she seemed lost in her own thoughts, detached from reality. "I don't want to assume anything," you said softly, "but I need to know if this is really about paint colors or if there's something else bothering you."

Nesta's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, the weight of her thoughts causing a heavy silence to fill the room. "I just want everything to go well," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Want what to go well?”

"I want this pregnancy to go well. I want our baby to be healthy. I want to be healthy." She placed a hand on her stomach and let out a bitter laugh. "I never cared about any of this before. Paint swatches, burp cloths. But now, it's all I can think about."

You had figured as much. As much as she tried to play it off as hormones and nesting, you and Nesta both knew that all of this stress was about something more, something deeper.

"It's going to be okay," you reassured her. "Your baby will be fine."

Nesta nodded, but you could tell she didn't truly believe it. Her eyes flickered down to her stomach, where her precious bundle was safely nestled. "I know," she said, but there was no conviction in her words.

"You're still nervous," I finished her sentence for her.

Immediately, Nesta shook her head, as if trying to deny it. But her shaky denial only confirmed my suspicions. Her lip trembled as she bit into it.

“Hey,” you offered her, “It’s okay to be scared.” You stood, walking over to her, your feet crinkling sheet on the floor Nesta had insisted Feyre lay down when she painted the closet door. You came to crouch in front of her, your hands taking her own as you tried to catch her downturned gaze. "No one expects you to have everything figured out right now."

Nesta’s grey eyes met yours and you could see the slight tears building on her lower lid.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently. "What's on your mind?"

After a moment of hesitation, Nesta sniffled and opened up. "I'm afraid of losing them," she admitted, tears now falling freely down her cheeks. "I'm afraid of what will happen after they're born. I'm afraid that I won't be a good mother, or even a decent one." You listened quietly as Nesta's fears poured out. Her doubts and insecurities about motherhood, about the baby, about herself. "I don't want them to hate me," she sobbed, clutching at her stomach. "And I'm scared that all are going to look at me and think I’m just like my mother."

You gave Nesta the space to mutter out her incoherent inner thoughts, all of them crashing out one after the other as she heaved out sob after sob. All you did was nod, hold her hand, and hold that space with her.

Eventually, she looked up at you with tear-stained eyes.

"That must be really hard," you said softly, squeezing her hand gently. "I wish I could take away your fears."

Nesta sniffled and chuckled. "Yeah, me too."

"Let me tell you something," you said firmly, holding her gaze. "You are going to be an amazing mother. And you know how I know that?" Nesta's lips quirked into a small smile despite the tears still lingering on her cheeks.

"Why?" she asked softly.

“Because you’re worried about it now.” Nesta laughed lightly as she glanced down to the floor. “Terrible mothers don’t worry if their children will hate them, or if people will judge them for how they parent.” You laughed, “And I also know that this baby is going to be so incredibly loved by you and Cassian, and all of us. Because you’ve worked so hard to bring them into the world, that you won’t be able to do anything but shower them with more love than their little heart can take.”

You met her gaze again as she smiled, her lip trembling. “You’re going to cheer them on when they succeed, and hold them when they’re sad, and you’re going to teach them how to breath through their fears and face them.” You squeezed her hand tenderly. “And Cassian,” you shrugged, “He'll probably be the reason they come home with a few bruises or scrapes, but he'll also be the reason they never back down from a challenge. They'll learn to laugh in the face of fear because they know their mom and dad will always have their backs."

You couldn't help but smile as you looked down at her growing belly. "This little one already has so much love surrounding them," you said, squeezing her hand. "And they'll know even more love from you because you are going to be an amazing mother." As Nesta wiped away her tears as you continued, "You'll never be like your own mother, I promise. You've experienced firsthand the pain of growing up with her and you will use that knowledge to be the best mother possible for your baby." Your voice softened, "That's not to say there won't be mistakes. You might get frustrated and raise your voice, or say things you don't mean. But most importantly, Nesta, you would never hurt them. Never ever." You locked eyes with her as she nodded, with more confidence than she had before.

"You're going to be a fantastic mom, and you have a whole family who believes in you," Nesta sniffled and nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve.

"And if Feyre can handle being a mom, then surely you can too," you teased, earning a genuine laugh from Nesta.

"Hey now, I'm just stating facts," you shrugged playfully. "But let's be real, there's no way your little sister could out-mom you," you joked as the two of you laughed together. The two of you sat there for a moment, giggling with one another, hands clasped together until you settled back on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. "Oh, by the way," you broke the silence, "I have no idea what color would look good in here, but I do know this ceiling color reminds me of something that comes out of a baby."

Nesta's glorious laughter that echoed throughout the room and probably down the entire mountain to Velaris.

Readers, just made myself vomit with that, good god that was sappy:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @that-one-bibliophole

@weepingwerewolf @caninnes  @loglady00 @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2

[clairedaring]

why is ming such an interesting character - a thoughtful essay originally posted in the my stand-in mdl comments section

By MDL user Liltsu (reposting with permission from OP, just added some gifs to illustrate OP's points) - original comment link

Probably an incoming unpopular opinion ahead (read with caution lol, disclaimer that I am not attempting to justifying Ming's wrongdoings to Joe, more so trying to understand for myself and anyone else why I find his character so interesting):

Am I the only one who doesn’t hate Ming, and wouldn’t consider it to be a sad ending if Ming and Joe ended up together? At least as of now, especially from what I’ve seen currently and how I can imagine the direction the rest of the series might take. Let me expand.

For context, I went into this drama not expecting very much, and felt extremely sceptical of the trope of the ‘stand-in’ it uses, because one of my pet peeves in romance dramas is the ‘transfer’ phenomenon. If you haven’t heard that term before, it’s basically a psychological term about how a person (let’s call them A) will ‘imprint’ on someone else (person B). So to have a ‘transfer’ regarding someone else, for example, would mean that person A might have liked a person in the past (person C), and then meet someone new (person B) who resembles that person (C) in some way, and purely because of that, person A starts to also like or believe that they genuinely like person B. The problem with transfers is that they typically are rooted in a person’s (A) unwillingness to let go of the past person, and don’t truly love/hate (whatever emotion it is) the new person (B). This drama, reverses that trope.

This will link to why I find Ming’s bond with Joe to be more genuine than I’ve seen be believed on here (just based on a few comments tbf). My theory is that, ironically, it was Tong all along that was Joe’s metaphorical stand-in from the start. Why? We see a short flashback of Ming going to the cinemas and seeing the ad/clip of ‘Tong’s’ back, doing a martial arts scene, but we only see his back. That very shot/scene is what made Ming feel entranced by Tong and motivated him to seek Tong out with his sister for an autograph. He even mentions it himself to Tong. However, I believe that the ‘back’ that Ming saw, was Joe’s and not Tong’s. Ming « fell in love » with Joe’s acting/aura/presence on the screen first, but mistook him for Tong who is the ‘known’ actor of the film he saw. So all along, his feelings for Tong are somewhat illusory, and obsessive. Tong, who in my opinion gets off of happily at the notion of someone being infatuated with him, simply strings Ming along (and uses him), as we’ve seen.

In my opinion, Tong represents the side of Ming that was raised in a classist, materialistic family that rather obsesses about ‘spectacle’, in a way that harms Ming in the long-term. That kind of lifestyle or way of life makes him petty, distrustful, overtly and unreasonably jealous, and aggressive. Behaviours that manifest very evidently when Ming sees Joe with Sol, but particularly in correlation to scenes in which his affinity for Tong has been strengthened (Tong only sharpens the conditioning Ming has been raised through, that of being sceptical and always needing things to go his way, and fuels this, either by being in his direct company or feeding him seeds of doubt indirectly). Tong represents attachment and obsession but not love. Particularly the scene in which Ming renders Joe unconscious and keeps him captive is the most blatant example of Tong’s influence, which brings out all of the qualities of Ming that reflect the wealthy and entitled background he is born from and still lives off from.

Ming’s interest in Joe is different in my opinion, and the series carefully points to this in a nuanced way. If my theory is correct about Ming having been drawn to Joe first, rather than Tong, and the feelings that were initially meant for Joe came to be directed toward Tong (and became twisted due to that fact), we can assume that Ming’s feelings for Joe are more…instinctual. They awaken something in Ming. And to me this is perfectly shown in their first interactions: Ming hugs Joe from behind, believing he is Tong, but if my guess turns out to be true, he subconsciously went toward Joe and embraced him with the original feelings that he felt at the cinema (when he truly ‘first’ saw him), rather than the other way around, which the series makes us believe at first glance. Then, in their interactions after, Ming is consciously reluctant to open up to Joe (showcasing the walls he has up, even toward Tong), but is still intuitively interested in Joe, wants to be around him, and cares about what he is up to. In my opinion, he sets unfair and unequal conditions in their relationship at first because of the self-défense mechanism he has kept up (someone with his background would find it difficult to trust and be vulnerable with someone else easily). This is why the most crucial interactions between Joe and Ming, in my view, are the scenes at Joe’s home. We see that Joe had said that Ming had fulfilled HIS dream to come back to a lit home and with someone welcoming you back warmly. I believe this is something Ming has long craved as well for himself, and Joe expressing this, and being the way he is, makes Ming feel safe and allows him to become more open, more intimate, more honest, more ‘himself’.

I feel that Ming struggles to fully understand these sides of him, and has even more difficulty communicating it to others (especially Joe), but that his gentler moments show indeed the equal, and dare i say, even ‘healthy’ potential of this couple. We see this from the last scene of this episode. Instead of Ming indulging in luxuries for someone of his status, or succumbing to some kind of greed, he has pertained to what he has truly desired all along in his heart: a warm home, where he can lead an honest and loving life with the person who sees him past his social persona of the rich, pampered, entitled and obsessive kid. This is symbolised by the fact that he has continued to live in Joe’s home, waiting for him for the last two years, which reflects his commitment and earnestness which he had gradually developed for Joe, even before.

I think what people get (understandably) confused or feel betrayed by, is the scene in which Joe realises he has been a ‘stand-in’ for Tong by Ming, especially during sex (because this is somewhat what Ming consciously believes for himself too). For me, I saw it more so as, on one level, the revelation of what I just mentioned about Ming’s prior conscious intention (which evidently is form of betrayal to Joe), and on another level, it is a defining moment of transition, where Ming is still somewhat clinging on to Tong (because of the feelings he first felt for him at the cinema, which could really be Joe again), but also clinging still to what he knows and about his way of going about things (through manipulation and violence).

So a transition from that, into the growing feelings, appreciation, and warmth Ming did start to exhibit at Joe’s house (the symbol of vulnerable space). We see this through Ming buying the couple mugs with THEIR names (Ming and Joe), or the meaningful moments of genuine happiness that Ming feels in the simple, non judgemental moments between the two of them. This is something his sister comments about, that seeing Ming with Joe is surprisingly pleasant because it is the fist time in a very long time since she has seen Ming happy and so smiley (this is one of the biggest external piece of evidence to the idea that Ming’s « feelings » for Tong have a very different nature to his feelings for Joe). And we see this very clearly in the scene in which Joe bought a watch to Ming (and which I believe we see him promote now two years later on the poster he is). That scene is extremely significant because it shows the shift and differences of Ming alone with Joe compared to with Tong or how he is used to being. The watch is a gift from Joe, who believes it to be the « top » watch in terms of ‘quality’ and price, something we see Ming ALREADY HAS (and doesn’t have particular personal feelings toward). The top watch he has reflects his status, his wealthy background and the expectations on him by others and himself (to be considered societally the ‘best’, but in a rather vain way). However, Joe’s watch isn’t the top watch in a societal, classist sense, but it holds more value to Ming because it represents Joe’s sincerity and that matters more to him. The watch, which is typically a common symbol of time, also reflects, in my opinion, the difference in how Ming spends his time. By taking Joe’s watch and wearing it, his way of using time is also more personal and sincere, wanting to lead a life of authentic connection with someone on the same wavelength as you. In his act of taking of his old watch, which was the ‘top watch’, Ming leaves behind his old lifestyle, or at least takes on more step toward exiting it (the life of vanity and falsehoods). So all these signs of Ming’s genuine interest, endearment and feelings of care for Joe are sprinkled there from the beginning, and the series deliberately is setting a constraint between his potential for warmth and healthy sincerely with the baggage he still has from his past through Tong and his family (something he both feels and is to some extent very much controlled by).

The series has really made me invested, and that has really been invigorating for me (as I binged the episodes today) because I haven’t really felt that as much with a lot of BL series lately - not that there aren’t don’t get me wrong, just that it feels like fewer have my engagement than usual. And to me, the series’ strength at this point (excluding the very good acting etc) is the writing, so I am very hopeful that for the parts of Ming that would require a form of redemption, or improvement, that the series would allow him to have that arc by the time that Joe and him supposedly get back together (if they do). In the case where my interpretation is close to the series’ intention, then i believe that although it doesn’t make the previous scenes justified, that it would be very much possible for Joe and Ming’s relationship to take on a healthier, more mature turn, where their relationship would become more patient, communicative and understanding, just like the interactions they shared in their own shared home.

I’ll probably end my train of thought here, but would really like to hear if anyone disagrees or agrees with my opinions, would be happy to hear from anyone hihi. Thank you to those who read this whole e s s a y, i’m appreciative of that :).