I did a public speaking thing today about rent control and I didn’t cry! Someone said they liked my speech because I mentioned how raises weren’t at inflation if you even get one so I felt better!

im sorry i have to rant im so fucking pissed

my exams end on 19th and I have to get rid of some books and buy some books which are quite pricy online so I had planned on going to college street on 20th and selling my books and buying the new ones at a cheap price and i was frankly really excited about it because all I get is a one day break to relax bcz i have to start studying for entrances from 21st so all I have is 20th and i wanted to spend it at college street and then get some food and basically have like a solo date kind of thing.

and i was so so excited about it i told my boyfriend about it like 500 times bcz i kept forgetting i've already mentioned it and it was literally on my mind a lott so i kept bringing it up and ik it seems like not a big deal cz i can just sit at home and chill too but i literally do not get to go outside my house. like- the last time i went out was new years eve and after that the only time i've gone out is to school or to give my boards that is it. my mother has some weird like problem wiht me going out like even if i tell her that i just want to go to our terrace for 5 minutes just to get some fresh air she won't even allow that she'll be all suspicious and like sTaNd In ThE bAlCOnY aNd TaKe FrEsH aIr like she herself doesnt leave the house (and blames it on me and my brother ???? when have we ever stopped you bro, she said I HaVe To Be HeRe To KeEp An EyE like im 18 i dont need to be watched 24/7 stop blaming me for choices you put upon yourself) and i just feel so suffocated ALL THE TIME i feel so overstimulated and im so sick of rotting on my bed and i dont want to wait for some birthday party or friends meet up to be able to leave my goddamn house i just wanted to go and have a fun day and get me some books thats it.

anyway so initially the plan was that my mom would go along but something came up so she wanted to postpone it to 21st and i didn't want to bcz i'd already be missing 3 days bcz of my boyfriends birthday, holi and my brothers birthday (all of which are important and i dont want to miss which makes me the villain apparently bcz i should "adjust" and cancel my "parties" instead of trying to stick to my plan bcz that makes me too demanding and selfish apparently) so i suggested that ukw why dont u go do ur thing which came up and i'll go to college street by myself...which is when the solo date idea came which i had really wanted all along but didnt bring up bcz i knew she'd say no but now there's a valid reason for me to go alone so like, its a pretty easy fix i can just go alone but noooo. First of all,

I've been to college street multiple times before so its not like its an unknown area to me

im going by metro which is quite safe

im going when there is stark daylight and i will return home much much before it gets dark and im literally 18

she never lets me go anywhere alone, not even take ubers alone if i want to get back from somewhere my bf has to come drop me everytime and then go backwards to his house which is so so so stupid and i never get to go out alone unless accompanied by family or by a male friend, so obv when i said i'll go to college street alone she refused to let that happen and started screaming about how 'if its so important to go on 20th bcz u dont want to miss a day of studying then cancel ur 'parties' and study then' and i was like no its not about missing a day its just that there's a very easy and logical fix to this problem which is i go alone and its not inconveniencing anyone so why cant i just do that but she will not listen to that bcz im 'adamant' and 'everything has to be according to me' bcz i found a viable solution to the problem. so instead of letting me just go she was literally ready to pay much more money and buy the books online, like.....why cant i just go bro??? (and she keeps telling me im a waste of her money bcz i will amount to nothing in life and my education was a failed investment or wtv so like now why are u wasting more money??? im literally trying to save the money that u 'waste' on me so just let me ???)

anyway i called my dad last night and told him and he was super ok with the idea he said its a good idea that i go alone and that he would speak to her but then today when i asked her if dad spoke to her she said yes, we'll go on 20th and i was like .....we? so apparently she CANCELLED her previously immovable thing for which she wanted me to cancel my 'parties', she cancelled that and agreed to go with me on 20th just so that i dont get to go alone- like ???????????????? what is ur problemmmm

so obv i was super annoyed and i went on a whole ass rant about how i literally struggle to even cross roads bcz i dont know shit about basic travelling bcz all my life ive been in a car and its a running joke with all my guy friends that i 'cannot navigate' and 'dont know any places' and obv??? if im never allowed to go anywhere then how tf will i know the places- the only places i know is bcz recently i've been paying a lot of attention and asking my dad stuff about what roads to take to reach certain places and when i go out with my friends i kind of try and learn a bit but thats it i've only ever gone alone completely alone to two places which is my beauty parlour thats 5 minutes away from my house and one bazaar one time that was 2 bus stops away, thats it. thats my extent of public travelling alone. and now im supposed to go to a whole new STATE for college and i cant even call myself an auto without struggling. and like- is this not a basic life skill??? like ok yeah its not rocket science and i will probably figure it out even if i start later in life but why not now? most of my guy friends literally go everywhere alone, why not me? and my dad agreed with all of this but my mom was just like "you'll be in the hostel only, no need to go out of the campus" like ARE YOU FOR REAL????????? and she's like "if u want to learn skills learn how to cook" like ok yes i will also learn how to cook for sure but i wont have a fucking kitchen in the hostel but somehow cooking is an urgent skill i should learn but going places by myself is unimportant bcz i should just never? leave? the? hostel?

anyway after much screaming and shouting my dad gave up and just cut the call bcz he doesnt want to get into an argument with my mother and my mother was being all suspicious like why do u hAvE tO gO aLoNe AlL oF a SuDdEn even though i literally explained why i want to do this alone but she doesnt think thats valid. so she refuses to let me go and i asked her for one reason why i shouldnt cz usuallt its always "no u have exam what if smthn happens" but now i literally dont even have exam so whats ur excuse now? streets will always be unsafe forever so "what if smthn happens" is not a reason to never let me go out without a man so just gimme one reason and she couldnt give me a single reason she just said "i said no, thats it".

and now she's gone off about how im useless and blah blah and "high maintainance" bcz i want books and "everyone else (some pishi's son) just studies online" and so the whole option of college street is apparently now cancelled and she's trying to set up a whole ass kindle account (half the books i need arent even available as ebooks) just because i wanted to go by myself.

other women and of purer blood narcissa malfoy/severus snape explicit | 7.7k words

narcissa could not pinpoint the exact moment when she realised that married life was not what she expected. perhaps it had been when she had tried to make polite conversation with abraxas about the malfoys’ new business ventures in palermo, which were forcing lucius to spend several nights away from home a week, and her father-in-law had looked at her with pity and said that the family had no investments in italy as far as he knew. perhaps it had been lucius’ face last month, when she failed to get pregnant again, as she had every month for the three years they had been married. she had not expected, when lucius presented her with the magnificent diamond which seemed to be growing looser on her finger every day, that she would be so lonely.

narcissa is adrift, rattling around malfoy manor, when an equally lonely man comes into her lonely life.

this piece was written for @womenofthehouseofblack fest [you can find the other fics in the collection here].

author's notes under the cut

the title comes from voldemort’s line in deathly hallows, spoken when harry has just revealed to him that snape was in love with lily potter:

He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him.

when i first read this, i immediately had one person in mind for voldemort to be speaking about: narcissa.

after all, she and snape definitely have a tension in half-blood prince, when she visits him at home - and how on earth does she know how to find his house so easily if she hasn’t been there before? - in cokeworth. 

and i have never been able to see snape and voldemort sitting down for a chat about women in general, but voldemort forcing him to confess an attraction to narcissa - a revelation which would give the dark lord the opportunity to humiliate lucius, draco, bellatrix, lily’s memory, and snape and narcissa all at once - is something which seems extremely plausible.

all of which is to say, i think that snarcissa is canon.

other women and of purer blood is set in the summer of 1978, after lucius and narcissa have been married for three years and snape has just left school. it is primarily an examination of two things: class and gender. [so, yes, as many commenters have pointed out, the lady chatterley’s lover vibe is deliberate.]

in her post-series writing and interviews, jkr is clearly of the opinion that the wizarding world is egalitarian in terms of gender - and certainly aspects of its history, such as the fact that there were female ministers for magic centuries before british muggles found themselves with a female prime-minister, support this. but, within the seven-book canon itself, gender roles do seem to be considerably more restrictive than she believes, especially when they intersect with the expectations of social class. the canonical narcissa, like almost every other pureblood woman we meet [such as Molly weasley] does not work, and her narrative arc across the series is defined by her role as wife and mother.

i have always wondered about how narcissa must have felt a pressure to conform to class and gender expectations, owing to both bellatrix and andromeda’s rejection of social convention [for example, i think you can read narcissa’s estrangement from andromeda as something she feels she should do, while bellatrix wants to do it]. in nor all that glisters gold [author’s notes here], another piece i have written for this fest, i look at how bellatrix chafes against marriage, which she sees as coming with a curtailing of her ambition. the narcissa of other women and of purer blood feels the same - reflecting on the opportunities for work and study that her marriage has brought her.

bellatrix also chafes against motherhood. the narcissa of this piece is uncomfortable with the fact that her own childlessness aligns her with her wayward sister - and, as she points out, that motherhood is something which andromeda has "won" against her.

bellatrix is happy, though, to be thought immodest - something lord voldemort is all too happy to make use of. [poor narcissa, realising that bella is having much better sex than she has ever had, despite the fact lucius is hot and voldemort appears to be made of melting wax…]

narcissa, in contrast, has a more complicated relationship with modesty and desire. the description of the witches’ clothing is intended to bring to mind the high-collared and long-sleeved dresses of the edwardian era - which lacked the looseness and ease of the medieval clothing magical people are often depicted as wearing. narcissa in this is someone who is rather buttoned up, and who finds it difficult to express her own wants and opinions selfishly. that lucius - who is written here as neither cruel nor abusive, just distant - doesn’t realise this, and assumes that her need for validation and attention [a trait shared by the canon draco - he must get it from his mother] can be bought with pretty presents, is but one cause of the rift between them.

snape, in contrast, provides narcissa with the comfort of understanding. where lucius patronises her about her "little parties", he supports her greater ambitions. he also offers her a way of freeing herself - even if just for the time they’re together - from the restrictions of her class.

[as i’ve mentioned in the notes to nor all that glisters gold, this is something i also believe voldemort offers bellatrix, and the parallels between snarcissa and bellamort in other women and of purer blood are deliberate.]

the canonical lord voldemort does not appear to respect narcissa - he clearly underestimates her, and his complacency in assuming that she isn’t a complex person proves to be his undoing. but he does not, i think, lack respect for her because of her role in the home. we are almost always shown voldemort in a domestic context in canon - which is fascinating, given that he’s always emphasised as someone who has managed to infiltrate the masculine-coded spaces of wizarding politics - and we see this play out in other women and of purer blood. voldemort recruits his death eaters through the male patron-client networks which are shown to govern wizarding society [lucius’ letter of introduction for snape, for example], but he also makes use of women’s social networks. lucius may not completely appreciate why voldemort regards gossip and female friendship and who has asked whom to be a bridesmaid as useful [narcissa, who is constantly subjected to gossip, understands very well], but the dark lord has clearly been reading up on the spread of all sorts of social movements in which women play a key role in converting their male relatives to the cause…

i also don’t think that voldemort’s lack of respect for narcissa comes from her gender. his lack of respect for lucius however, does…

lucius malfoy’s relationship with his masculinity is something which is displayed very interestingly in canon. he is written as somewhat effete - something which was played up in the films - but he also clearly regards himself both as a protector and as someone whose role as the male head of an elite family should be accompanied by a certain level of deference from men whom he considers beneath him. this is the reason why voldemort chooses to emasculate him in the opening chapter of deathly hallows by taking his wand, and why voldemort keeps him confined to the domestic space of the manor from this point onwards. this masculine competition drives lucius’ relationship with snape in other women and of purer blood - in which he notices the flirtatious vibe between his wife and a man he considers his social inferior and chooses to assert his dominance with humiliating ease.

lucius’ relationship to his manhood is also why i am certain that voldemort knows about the unbreakable vow made between snape and narcissa in half-blood prince - he would be delighted to remind lucius that his failings as a death eater drove narcissa into the arms of another male protector. draco is, of course, not a character in this story, but his presence is still felt. after all, i have always wondered exactly how voldemort got his claws into him - and exactly what role narcissa played in it.

we have one suggestion here. when voldemort disappeared in 1981, narcissa breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was never going to collect on the debt she owed him for his silence…

she was wrong.

Will you be my hunter: Settling Conflicts and Planning

Our heroes faced Rachel's party and narrowly defeated them. Mhoira was wounded during the fight and afterwards noticed that her eyes had started glowing.

After hearing the party's current plan, Rachel explained her plan: Historically, everyone who tried killing Lugno had failed due to her evading them until they slipped up and getting killed.

It would be foolish to assume they'd be better than everyone else in the past 4000 years, so instead they should exploit their current unique circumstances: for seemingly the first time, Lugno had a goal instead of just aimlessly murdering.

So instead of chasing after her like everyone before them, they should let Lugno get to the Feywild, a place where she will be confused by the strange rules of the plane while they had two natives on their side (Morena and Rachel herself).

Their plan is now this: They brew the potion that Lugno wanted to brew to get to the Feywild, Cataris disguises herself as an attractive and wealthy alchemist trying to lure Lugno into targeting her and stealing said potion from her and then they capture and kill Lugno in the Feywild.

Additionally, Mya revealed to Morena that he might be able to build an automaton that can house the soul she's been keeping in her latern. Morena explains to the rest of the group that after the death of her girlfriend, she made a pact with a hag to bring her back to life but the hag only restored the soul, not the body.

Rachel also explained that she was the daughter of an Eladrin noble at Oberon's court and a Nar'adschian diplomat there. Her mother was turned into a plant by Oberon and she has been working to kill him for that ever since. Even killing Lugno is primarily so that she can unite Nar'adsch under the church of Tiamat (which she will then hopefully lead) so she can have an army to march on Oberon.

Mhoira also had something to share but asked Rachel and the rest of her group to leave the room before doing so. She then revealed that she was a succubus who served Lugno since the beginning of her pact with Fierna. She had grown to resent Lugno over the millenia and when I're killed her around the same time as Fierna's position got taken by Devotion instead, she asked Devotion if she could please kill Lugno. Devotion agreed and let her brother Aralal summon her to the material plane. However, now that she had repeatadly taken damage, her vessel was starting to crack, hence the glowing eyes.

In the evening, the nine of them went to the opera (starring their host Marcella) together, both as a groupbuilding exercise and so that Antonia could do some networking (which they would eventually use to spread rumors about the rich alchemist who has a potion that can bring you to the Feywild). I'll just post my own notes on the opera here:

A young girl starts having dreams of the feywild

Befriends a pixie

no one believes her that her dreams are real until she knows about the death of the snow queen before everyone else

as she gets older, she falls in love with the pixie

moves to ooziridge to learn the gate spell to be able to visit the pixie

the pixie gets captured as a POW during the war of succession

the girl can still visit in her dreams but finds out that she is unable to physically interact with anyone but the pixie

the girl cancels her studies and instead starts training to become an adventurer to free the pixie

now owning the nation of ooziridge a massive amount of money, she is on the run from debt collectors because she wants to invest all the money she can get into becoming stronger

she travels to the tower of planes before feeling fully ready, in part to escape the debt collectors

she goes to the feywild and gets almost immediately killed by a redcap

Morena had to leave the opera early as it reminded her too much of her own girlfriend getting killed during the war of succession.

the road to hell is paved with good intentions

title: the road to hell is paved with good intentions

words: 6995

Complete

Summary: Jack feels like death as he fights the flu, Danny’s wrist is broken and he refuses to talk about it, and Maddie feels like she can’t do anything right.

If he could just see through his son’s eyes, walk in his shoes for a while.

He forgot one should never say the word ‘wish’ in Amity Park.

AO3

“It’s nothing, okay?” Danny shouted, exasperated.

“Why won’t you just talk to us?” Maddie yelled back, similar frustration in her tone.

Jack just groaned as shoved his head further under his pillow. One of these days this family really needed to invest in some soundproof coating or something. His wife and son were in the living room, how could he possibly hear them so loudly? Why was this his life? Jack whined pathetically into the bedroom, empty except for him.

“There’s nothing to talk about, why is that so hard for you to understand?” Danny shot back.

“It isn’t nothing, Danny! Your wrist is very clearly broken, for Christ’s sake!”

Jack could practically hear the eye roll from the other room. “It so is not, mom!”

“It is bruised and crooked, why the hell won’t you tell me who did this?”

“Nothing happened and no one did anything! Ugh, I’m done with this crap.”

“Now wait just a second young man-!” Maddie didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Jack heard the front door slam close with impressive force, the window pane beside him shaking from it. Add doing a structural check for the house to the same to-do list that has the soundproofing on it, there was no way Danny was strong enough for this window to be doing that.

A cough tore from him, feeling like knives against his already sore throat. The flu sucked. He was still in the middle of his coughing fit when he heard the door to his room open, his wife’s soft footsteps coming over beside him. He heard the squeak of her hazmat suit as she leaned down to him, pushing back his sweaty hair and running her fingers through it. He didn’t say anything, instead giving a hum of satisfaction at the relaxing touch.

Maddie pressed the back of her hand against Jack’s forehead, sighing at whatever she felt. “You’re still burning up.” She said. Jack almost whined again when she pulled away from him. “I think I’m sleeping on the couch tonight, dear.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t ghost flu?” Jack croaked, doing his best to ignore the pain in his throat.

“I’m positive, sweetie.” Maddie said. Jack groaned and opened his eyes, watching his wife piddle around the room while she got ready for bed.

“What happened?” He asked.

Maddie stilled, staring at the pajamas she had pulled from the dresser. She slunk down to the edge of the bed, sitting down. “Danny’s wrist is obviously broken and I think part of his hand is too. It’s bruised and I swear it looks crooked. I don’t think he knew I was in the kitchen, he didn’t hide it in time. Now he’s stormed out. Why would he hide something like that? He needs medical attention!” Anger suddenly flared in her face and she bunched up the pajamas, viciously throwing it halfway across the room. They fell harmlessly to the floor, but Maddie continued to glare as if they had deeply offended her. “I don’t understand. God, why won’t he talk to me? We used to be so close! Today has been one fucking nightmare after another and I can’t take anymore.”

“What else happened?” He asked. Jack had been in bed almost all day - he hadn’t even been able to drive himself to the doctor, Jazz had had to squeeze him into her car and drive him. Jack and being sick did not get along well.

“Phantom, what else?” Maddie practically spat the ghost’s name. “I had him! I had him, Jack. I even literally handcuffed him to me! With the power suppressant cuffs so he couldn’t phase through them! But almost immediately after, I heard a loud crack and he was gone. I had him for a grand total of five seconds. I cannot for the life of me figure out how he got out. I failed as a mother and an ectoscientist today.”

The longer she spoke, the more anger faded from her voice, getting replaced with exhaustion and sadness so deep it was nearly grief.

“Why won’t he just talk to us?” Maddie asked desperately.

Jack reached out a hand and patted her reassuringly on the leg. “I don’t know.” Jack admitted, every syllable a knife directly to his throat. “I wish sometimes I could just… walk in his shoes, see through his eyes. Understand him. All we can do is our best, Mads.”

Maddie slumped forward, defeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” The bed creaked slightly as she left it, grabbing the thrown clothes from the floor. “I’ll get you something to help you sleep, okay?”

“Thanks.” He croaked, fatigue settling in. He really was not doing well, that short conversation had been incredibly taxing.

Maddie changed into her pajamas, left the room, and came back a few minutes later, water and various bottles in her hands. “Okay. Take this antiviral for the flu symptoms. Here’s some cough syrup as well. And, honestly, you sound awful, so here’s Benadryl and the Fenton Knock ‘Em Out. Can’t feel bad if you’re dead to the world!”

Jack tried to chuckle, but it just sent him into another coughing fit. He accepted the medication from his wife, dutifully slamming it down.

It really was a shame they couldn’t sell the Knock ‘Em Out, it worked so well, but neither of them technically had the degrees to be making medication in their basement. More for them!

Maddie kissed his forehead as she left, grabbing her pillow. The cocktail in his system kicked in quickly. All he thought of was Danny as he drifted away.

~~~~~~

Jack grumbled as light spilled in from his open curtains. He could’ve sworn Maddie had closed them last night. He cleared his throat, tested his limbs. He was relieved when nothing hurt the way it had last night, his arms and legs no longer feeling like lead. Wow, all that crap he took last night had really helped! Even if he did feel kinda sore in other spots. Must’ve slept wrong.

Eyes still closed against the offensive light, he pushed himself up. Or, tried to. He yelped in pain, eyes flying open as his right hand aggressively protested the action. He gripped his wrist with his left hand, pulling it against him.

He stared at his hands, though, utterly bewildered because these were most definitely not his hands. Jack blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to get back to reality instead of whatever dream state it was stuck in.

The hands in front of him had no gloves on, despite Jack knowing he fell asleep with them. They were too narrow, too small, too pale. He studied them closer, brows furrowing. Even that felt weird, he realized. His entire body felt, just… off.

His right wrist was mostly definitely sprained and had a nasty bruise entirely circling it, the bruise extending up to his thumb as well. Jack wiggled his(?) thumb in curiosity. It ached slightly as the bruise was pulled on. His left hand was, somehow, the more surprising one. He had to hold it close to his face, moving it to observe it from every angle, letting as much natural light illuminate the limb. It was so faint, he could barely see it.

A scar shaped like lightning branched around his hand and up his arm, fading into non-existence shortly above his elbow.

Done examining his arm, he studied the room around him. Well, at least he knew this room, though he wasn’t sure if that was reason to panic or not. There was no denying the walls covered in star posters, the NASA comforter set he was snuggled under. He threw the blankets from him and ran to the nearby mirror.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to react when his son’s face was the one staring back at him, blue eyes wide with bewilderment. Jack touched his/his son’s face, still not quite believing it, even as he ran his hands across a smooth chin where Jack should have stubble.

“What the hell?” He asked, though Danny’s voice was the one who spoke his words. He hurried from the teen’s room, running into his own.

Was this an out of body experience? Literally seeing his own body, sniffling and coughing under the covers.

Jack moved to wake Danny-in-Jack’s-body up, but was distracted by Jazz talking to him from her doorway.

“Danny? You’re never up this early, were you out all night again?”

“Uh…” Again, hearing Danny’s voice was incredibly odd right now. A glance back at his sleeping form and an idea formed in Jack’s head. He could pretend to be Danny - maybe he’d learn something. He felt a twinge from the bruised wrist - the one Maddie had yelled about last night, the one that had hurt Jack so badly this morning. He loved his son and if the only way to find out what was hurting him was to pretend to be him for a day? He wouldn’t complain.

Smiling in a way he hoped mimicked Danny, he turned away from his own sleeping body. The mix of medication Jack had taken last night should keep him down most of the day and he suspected Danny was currently inhabiting Jack’s body.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jack lied, shrugging like Danny so often did.

“Danny, what’s that?” Jazz asked, stepping closer and gently grabbing Danny’s injured hand. Jack hissed as it twinged painfully.

“Uh…” he said. He and Maddie didn’t know if Jazz knew what Danny was involved in and he couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing if she did. So he shrugged again. How often did Danny shrug? Was this believable? “It’s nothing.”

Jazz sighed, gently examining her brother’s hand. “Just because it’s a minor injury doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” Jack’s eyes widened. What the hell was his son doing that this was minor?

Jazz continued, too focused on the purple bruises to notice her father’s distress. “You broke this, didn’t you? You know you’re supposed to come to me when that happens so I can at least splint it.”

How often was Danny breaking bones?!

“It was late when I got home,” Jack finally said, realizing the silence was starting to stretch too long. “I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

Jazz snorted, thwacking her brother on the back of the head. “As if that means anything. We agreed you would stop that, Danny. You wake me up next time, understand?”

“Next time?” Jack asked, and it was definitely his son’s voice cracking because of puberty right then, Jack had not squeaked.

“If you ever figure out how to stop the ‘next times,’ let me know. Wanna ride to school or you gonna go solo?”

Did Danny frequently walk by himself to school? As far as his parents knew, Danny always carpooled with his sister. He looked out the window behind Jazz, where snow flurries fell. “Can you give me a lift? It’s snowing too much.”

For some inexplicable reason, Jazz laughed. “Yeah, as if the snow has ever stopped you.” She looked at her watch. “Meet me downstairs in ten and we can head out.”

Jack just nodded, suddenly realizing this meant he had to dress Danny. Somehow, that felt like more of an invasion of privacy than deciding to try to masquerade as him. Still, that conversation with his daughter had set off more alarms than a building on fire. Jazz - who had always been so protective of her brother, who tried to push him to be his best self - knew whatever Danny was going through and didn’t tell them.

As Jack ran back into his room - wow Danny was fast! - he frowned as he thought over Jazz’s words. She made it sound like Danny frequently broke bones. But bones took a long time to heal and they were extremely painful. Danny would need medical attention - a cast and possibly pain medication. Even after Jack - er, Danny? - had assured her it was just a sprain, she still scolded him like a broken bone. Jack knew his daughter knew bones would take weeks to heal.

Jack quickly changed, doing his best to not think about how utterly awkward this was and he ran downstairs. Maddie wasn’t on the couch so he hurried down the stairs to the lab.

“You’re up early, sweetie!” Maddie said.

“Listen to me,” Jack said urgently, continuously glancing up the stairwell to make sure Jazz hadn’t appeared. “It’s me, Jack. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I woke up as Danny this morning. Whatever Danny’s into, Jazz knows! His wrist is just sprained, and I think his thumb might have gotten hurt too.” He held up the damaged hand as proof. “I took enough sleeping medication last night to put a bull down for a week - Danny is in my body and he won’t wake up any time soon. This is our chance! Maybe I can figure out what’s going on by pretending to be him! Jazz saw this and just got onto me - uh, Danny? - for not coming to her last night for her to put a splint on it! She thought he’d broken his hand because he does it a lot!”

As soon as he was done talking, he frowned. He hadn’t needed to take a breath for any of that. Danny must be in really good shape, even though he didn’t look it. Something about that explanation, though… it just didn’t feel right.

Maddie, thankfully, took it in stride. There were some benefits of marrying a scientist who believed in ghosts. Outlandish situations weren’t as unbelievable. “Are you sure?” She asked.

Jack nodded. “Maybe I can get something. Anything to put us on the right path. We won’t get this chance again.”

Maddie bit at her lip indecisively. “It feels wrong. But you’re right. You just have to make sure his friends buy it.” 

Jack shrugged. “He’s a teenage boy. How hard could it be? I just need to let them talk. Someone knows something and they won’t shy around the topic around him.”

“Do it.” Maddie said. “I’ll call you if Danny wakes up. Now go, quickly!”

Jack instinctively began to reach towards Maddie to hug her, but, again, it just felt… bad to do in his son’s body. So he just nodded and bolted up the stairs.

Wow, he really needed to get on whatever workout regimen Danny was apparently hiding. This boy could zoom. 

The living room was still empty when he re-entered, pulling Danny’s jacket and gloves from the rack by the door. Jazz wasn’t far behind him, digging her keys out of her purse.

“You remembered your coat for once!” Jazz said, grinning. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to remind you to get it.”

Was Danny really that forgetful? This was Illinois, it snowed a lot. Was he getting head trauma on top of whatever else he was doing? Jack just grinned sheepishly in the best impersonation of Danny he could muster, following Jazz to the car.

“So, are you going to tell me who did that?” Jazz asked as they pulled away from the driveway, pointing briefly to his wrist before firmly placing both hands properly on the wheel.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Jack had no idea how Danny had sprained his wrist, much less who did it to him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He whined, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.

“Oh my God, was it Boxy?” Jazz said, laughing.

This was definitely a gang. But what kind of gang member went by Boxy? But it was an answer Jack could play off of. “Lucky shot.”

Whoever this Boxy was, he must be really weak, Jack determined, as Jazz was nearly crying from laughter. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it! By the Ancients, how did Boxy manage to break your wrist?”

“It’s just a sprain!” Jack protested, trying to push the conversation away from topics he had no idea what was going on. And also trying his best to not feel slightly disappointed at how hilarious his daughter found her brother getting hurt.

“Which means it was a clean break last night.” Jazz shot back.

“That’s impossible!” Jack immediately reacted, forgetting to actually think before he spoke.

Thankfully, Jazz didn’t seem to notice, apparently still thinking Danny was just messing around. “Yeah, and absolutely nothing about you is impossible.” She said sarcastically.

Jack had utterly no clue what was going on, so he reverted to a tried and true Danny method - he went silent and looked away, giving Jazz the cold shoulder.

Jazz laughed again but she didn’t push, allowing her brother to stew.

When they pulled into the school and he left her car, though, he realized a fundamental flaw in his plans.

He had no earthly idea where Danny’s classes or locker were. He was fairly certain Danny had passively mentioned at one point that every class he had either Sam or Tucker with him, so Jack would just… have to tag along. He had a 50/50 shot of getting it right. Maybe he could blame tiredness if he chose the wrong one?

“Danny!” Tucker yelled, waving as he strolled towards Jack. He was bundled in winter clothing.

Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself for the performance of his life. Again, something with Danny’s breathing just felt wrong. It wasn’t… he didn’t know, satisfying? There was something deep inside that he couldn’t place, something that was just… missing.

Regardless, he smiled back at the approaching boy, waving as well. “Hey, Tuck!”

Tucker closed the distance between them, both of them off to the side of a busy hallway. Jack assumed they were waiting for Sam.

Starting to feel a little too warm in this jacket - the school must have jacked the heat all the way up - he pulled it off with a sigh of relief.

“Dude, have you lost it? It’s freezing in here. Put that back on!” Tucker said quietly, looking around and watching the others.

“What? No, it’s burning up in here.”

“Dude, did you forget the heater broke? You know you get warm easily. Besides,” he continued, pointing at the splotchy purple bruise, “we don’t want people seeing that.”

Jack wanted to argue but he conceded. He was Danny right now, this apparently was just a normal thing his son dealt with, even if it made absolutely no sense to Jack.

He was obediently pulling the jacket back on, tugging the sleeve down to hide the purple mark, though it didn’t seem nearly as bad as he had remembered it. He must’ve imagined how awful it looked, made it worse.

“Danny, Tuck,” Sam greeted as she joined the little group. Jack, however, had gotten distracted by the lightning scar on his hand again.

“Earth to space case!” Sam called, playfully hitting his shoulder with a book. “What’s up?”

“Just, uh. Got distracted.” Jack managed, sticking both hands in his pockets as though it was normal. “Forget how bad that scar is sometimes.” 

Jack had been hoping that would prod the two into giving more information, but they just shrugged. “We’ll take your word for it. You know we’ve never seen it on this side of you.” Tucker answered.

Well. Damn. This side of you? Jack just had more questions now. The three of them got swept away in the crowd, Jack following his son’s best friends as closely as possible.

He felt an odd stir in his chest. It almost felt like… contentment? Like, his body was content even though he wasn’t? Jack couldn’t quite… place whatever was happening in him. It definitely wasn’t bad. Just… weird.

Jack yelped as he felt himself be grabbed by his collar, his back thrown to the wall. He scowled at whoever had grabbed him - a tall blond jock, flanked on either side by two others.

“How are you today, Fentonia?” The boy sneered.

“Dash, for one day, just one, can you not be a giant fucking prick?” Sam asked.

The boy - Dash, apparently - tilted his head in thought and paused. “Nope!” He said cheerfully, a punch flying towards Jack’s face.

Time seemed to slow, the incoming strike almost cartoonish in its exaggerated slo-mo. Jack easily broke the larger boy’s grip, throwing his arms up to protect his face. Something felt like it was… missing. Something he couldn’t place.

The punch landed on his crossed arms and the odd time perception stopped. Despite Dash’s apparent higher strength, Danny’s body didn’t flinch beneath the blow, nothing more than a piece of paper being brushed against him.

Dash yelped in pain, holding his hand against himself, looking at Jack in surprise. Behind him, Tucker and Sam looked stunned as well. Jack just studied the scene, wide eyed. 

What. What was that? What did he just do?

It was one of the other boys behind Dash who broke the silence - a redhead. “You stole some of your parents' tech, didn’t you? Even with the shit your insane parents make, you’re a loser.”

Dash nodded along with the other boy. “Yeah, what Jeff said. Freak.” He didn’t look like he actually believed it, to be honest, but he was going to roll with whatever sounded better than… whatever the hell Jack had just done. They quickly left after.

Sam and Tucker immediately closed ranks on him, blocking him from view.

“What the hell, Danny!” Sam hissed. “You know you can’t do that!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack protested.

Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly pushing up his glasses. “I thought you had control of the power now, dude. You can’t be here if you don’t. It’s too dangerous!”

“Do you need to go back to Clockwork, Danny?” Sam asked.

Power? Clockwork?

Jack just blinked wildly, unsure what had just happened.

“It’s okay if you do,” Sam said, her voice softening. “Time doesn’t move here if Clockwork doesn’t want it to. You can go spend a few more months with him.”

Jack just shook his head rapidly. “I’m fine.” He said, pushing away from the locker. The way they phrased it, it sounded like Danny had already spent some months with this Clockwork. But that was impossible, Danny hadn’t been gone longer than a night in years. “It won’t happen again.”

“It can’t happen again, Danny.” Tucker pleaded. “You can’t get revealed. I thought you were about to hit Dash! Fuck, dude, you already had to break your own wrist and half your hand last night to get away from Maddie, do you want to get caught?”

Genuine fear and worry emanated from his son’s two friends. But Jack almost didn’t notice it. Their words had struck him as he struggled to understand them.

“Let’s just… let’s just go to class, okay?” Jack finally managed. This charade was getting harder and harder, he was grasping at straws to stay in character. A character he apparently knew nothing about.

“Yeah. C’mon, before Lancer gives you another detention.” Sam sighed, turning away. Tucker and Jack fell into step behind her.

“Seriously, dude. If you can’t control it, promise me you’ll go back to Clockwork.” Tucker said, throwing a worried glance at his friend.

Jack desperately wished he knew who this Clockwork was, that he knew what was going on. It almost seemed… ghostly. But that was impossible. Danny was human, Jack had seen him go through a ghost shield last week. Was Danny involved in a literal mad science experiment? Trying to fuse ghost abilities to a human host? Was it hurting Danny? Was he having to fight other guinea pigs? How in the absolute hell could his son fucking slow down time? That wasn’t an ability he knew any ghost to be capable of.

“I promise.” Jack lied. If this Clockwork was forcing his son into something, there was no way in hell he was letting Danny back near him.

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As they settled into their apparent normal seats - why did Danny insist on sitting so far away? - Jack’s mind was a storming ocean.

Jack knew Tucker loved Danny - romantically or platonically Jack didn’t know or care - so his words confused Jack now that he thought about them. He wouldn’t encourage Danny to do something dangerous. Sam wouldn’t either. They were thicker than thieves, even closer than Jack had been with Maddie and Vlad back in college.

And what they had said about Danny breaking his own bones to escape someone named Maddie. Of course, it wasn’t his Mads, she’d sooner rip their portal apart and set herself on fire than hurt either of her kids, just like Jack would. What other Maddie was in Danny’s life? Was Maddie trying to kidnap his son?

How was it that he found out his son was being physically bullied by another student, and it wasn’t the worst thing he’d learned?

The day went by slowly. Jack did his best to take notes for Danny, his grades were already so poor… but it was all so boring. He’d seen ghosts with more vigor for life than some of these teachers! So far, he’d also been right in his guesses of who to follow to which classes through sheer dumb luck.

His next chance to properly speak to Sam and Tucker didn’t come until lunch. They had glanced at him throughout the day, but they seemed more of worry for this morning than suspicion that he wasn’t Danny.

Maybe his son was more like him than he’d realized, among his friends.

The day had gotten slightly warmer, some of the snow finally fading from the ground. Jack was immensely grateful as the trio ended up sitting down outside. They weren’t wrong when they’d said Danny got warm easily. Jack quite enjoyed being outside - there was no wind, but the cool air seemed to soothe him.

“It’s so nice right now.” Jack said, looking around. They were extremely isolated, tucked in a far off corner that dipped slightly behind the school.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, ice head.” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. He’d taken off some of the heavier winter clothes but he was still swaddled in several layers. “We’re only out here because you need to feel better. Uh - not that it’s a bad thing! Or anything!” He began to babble.

“We need you to feel better, too.” Sam interjected, cutting off Tucker’s babbling. She then rounded on Tucker, stole the red beret off his head, and then began to swat at him repeatedly with it. “Are you trying to get his hero complex riled up?”

Jack added that tidbit to the growing list of things he’d learned about Danny when he froze. Suddenly he felt like ice was consuming his insides, freezing his blood in his veins. It was brief, ending when he exhaled and blue mist escaped his mouth.

That wasn’t what drew his attention, though, as the ice retreated back into the center of his chest, nestling back into his ribs. He had felt all day, he realized, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Danny? Where’s the ghost?” Sam asked, though Jack didn’t see her right now.

Because he’d finally realized what had been missing.

He had no heartbeat. That’s what had been missing earlier, in the fight - the pounding of blood in his ears as his heart raced. Then he noticed that, in his shock, he had stopped breathing. Yet there was no burn in his lungs as he continued to hold it. There was no desperate need to breathe, no fear of suffocating.

Jack began to panic, pressing his a hand to his silent chest, searching for a pulse in his neck.

“Danny!” Sam and Tucker both called, running to his side. “What’s wrong?”

Jack knew he was probably having a panic attack, he’d helped Maddie through a few towards the end of their doctorates. But it was wrong, there was no constricting of his chest, nothing seeming to suffocate him as he didn’t draw breath.

“I can’t-“ he stumbled over his words. “The heartbeat - I can’t - where - I can’t - I can’t find a heartbeat.” 

“Danny, did you get shot with something new last night?” Tucker asked.

Sam meanwhile, sat beside him, pulling Jack’s hands into her own. “Danny,” she said softly. “You haven’t had a heartbeat since you died.”

“Died?” Jack said. He was spiraling hard. Somehow, the lack of his heart erratically beating due to anxiety was making this worse.

“Danny, what happened last night? Did something happen you didn’t tell us about?” Sam asked, her voice more gentle than Jack had ever heard her.

“Oh dear, am I interrupting something?” An echoed voice asked. If he had any more room for panic, the fact the Wisconsin Ghost was hovering in front of them probably would have been notable. Fuck. He needed to get himself and two teens away from one of the most violent ghosts in the town, no weapons in sight. The cold in his chest seemed to flex, gently spreading through him.

“Oh fuck off, Vlad. We don’t have time for you today.” Sam spat, her prior gentleness buried in hate. She really was fearless.

Wait, Vlad? The ghost was named Vlad?

“Daniel always has time for me. Don’t you, son?” The ghost leered.

Even as Jack continued to feel like he was shattering, the ice within him moved, freezing the shards of himself in place, keeping him from fully falling into ruin.

“Not your son.” Jack managed. He didn’t know what had happened to Danny, what Danny was now. But Danny would always be his fucking child.

“Not yet,” the ghost cooed. “But soon. Your father won’t survive me forever. Not even with you as his guardian angel, little badger.”

Jack had yet again been verbally backhanded, more than once, as the ghost’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. This ghost was trying to kill him - Jack him - and steal his son.

And he knew who this ghost was.

Jack had always thought the little badger endearment was, well, endearing. But now it left a feeling of ash in his mouth.

How could this be Vlad? Jack’s Vlad, his first genuine friend in college. One of only two he had. His heart - apparently he still had an emotional one of those - felt like it had been torn from his chest. Still, no matter what Vlad had been to him, how much he had loved him like a brother, the feeling clearly didn’t go both ways. No matter how much it absolutely destroyed him, Vlad was no longer a friend. He was an enemy trying to steal Jack’s son away.

He pushed himself to his feet, even if his legs did shake some. “Go to hell.”

Vlad grinned, sadistic and vile. “I already have.” A pink ectoblast flew from his hand, nailing Jack square in the chest. He fell backwards, catching himself with his elbows, grass itchy against his skin.

Jack really wished he knew how to control whatever time shifting ability Danny apparently had, but he had no idea.

Vlad lazily threw up a shield as Tucker and Sam blasted at him, wrist rays smoking with each shot. “Danny, do something!” Sam shouted before she had to jump out of the way of a blast.

“I don’t have a weapon!” Jack shouted back as he caught thin, knife-like rays striking across his side, cutting deeply into him.

The ice in his chest suddenly burst. It encased him, consumed him. It was no longer the cold of a dead heart, Jack was the ice. Power he’d never felt before flared beneath his skin and he yielded to it, the power painlessly tearing through his skin, through his very being.

Jack watched as a circle of light pulsed out from inside him, travelled along him.

“You’re not Daniel.” Vlad said.

Jack stared at the white gloves that had appeared on him, the black jumpsuit, the white boots. “What?” He whispered, pulling at the fabric clinging to his chest so he could get a better look. There was no denying that symbol.

Jack’s entire world had absolutely gone to hell and yet he continued further, into the deeper circles, each new revelation a spear to his soul.

“Who are you?” Sam asked. Tucker warily raised his ray, now aiming at Jack. Yet he barely registered them, staring at Vlad.

Phantom’s powers, Jack knew. Phantom’s abilities were something Jack and Maddie had been studying for years. The thought of his wife gave a small twinge in his hurt wrist. He pushed that avalanche away for now. 

He’d happily let it bury him in shame later.

Jack willed his body into the air, floating level with his old friend. His fists clenched and green surrounded them.

“Stay the hell away from my son, Masters!” Jack shouted, ramming his hands into the ghost’s stomach. Apparently Vlad hadn’t been expecting this fake Phantom or whatever to be strong. Almost immediately, he had the upper hand, surprising the other ghost and then just not letting up, even as it devolved into Jack just repeatedly slamming his fists into the other’s face.

It didn’t last forever though, eventually Vlad blasting him in return and sending him flying. He slammed against a tree and slid down, bark angrily digging into him, until he crashed to the ground. Now it was Vlad who had successfully surprised his enemy, continually blasting Jack.

As much as it hurt, Jack felt so guilty. His son would eventually get his body back. And Jack hadn’t protected it. Jack wasn’t the one who would be suffering these bruises later. As Vlad continued his barrage, yelling insults the whole way, all Jack could do was throw his hands over his head, trying to form a shield with only a moderation of success.

Jack heard the roar of an engine, gravel being crushed under something heavy, metal doors slamming open.

“Ah, Daniel, I presume?” Vlad asked, granting Jack a brief reprieve, allowing him to look up.

As odd as seeing his sleeping body had been, seeing himself up and walking around from an outside perspective that wasn’t a recording felt deeply wrong. Maddie was also there, catching his eyes. He saw his pain mirrored there and he knew Maddie knew Danny’s truth now as well.

Danny stepped forward in his father’s body, hefting the blast bazooka onto his shoulder. Despite looking like death warmed over, he didn’t look weak or afraid. As sick as Jack knew he had been, Danny pushed through it like it was nothing.

“Stay away from my dad!” Danny shouted, firing the bazooka. “Tucker, now!”

Vlad’s - and Jack’s - attention had been entirely on the new arrivals. Neither of them had noticed Tucker slipping around behind Vlad.

Vlad reacted too late - he managed to catch the blast in a shield but the blue light of the Thermos caught him. Tucker slammed the cap on, twisting it shut. “It’s both infuriating and hilarious to me that Vlad keeps falling for that.” He said, dropping the device into his backpack.

“Dad?” He heard his own voice ask timidly. Danny was warily approaching him, slowly and cautiously, two things Jack himself had never been.

“Danno.” He said, forcing himself to stand even as his side twinged, cold ectoplasm bleeding down.

Danny seemed to relax some, hurrying towards his father. “Are you okay?” He asked, eyeing the injury on Jack’s side.

Jack nodded. “It’s your body, son. I’m just borrowing it. But I think I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry!” Both blurted out simultaneously after a short silence. Jack motioned for Danny to continue.

“I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry this is the way you had to find out.” Danny said. “Do I need to apologize for coming back? For coming back wrong?”

“No.” Jack said firmly, willing his body to float, lifting him until he was eye level with Danny. He wondered if it was as odd for Danny to stare into his own face as it was for Jack. Gently, he held Danny’s face, even though it was his own eyes looking back at him, misty with tears. “I am so sorry I ever made you believe that. I’m sorry I didn’t immediately wake you up when I realized what had happened. But I love you, Danny. I will always love you. You are my son, you understand? Dead or alive.” His voice cracked there. “But I love you so, so much, Danny. And I will spend the rest of my goddamn life proving it to you if I have to.”

Danny sobbed gently, throwing his arms around his father, and clinging to him in a hug. It wasn’t a hug Jack would normally give - bone breaking, all consuming. It was soft and light, it avoided the wounds Jack hadn’t stopped from littering his son’s body. Jack held onto his son just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried, too.

For a moment, it felt like he was being pulled from the body, painlessly melting from his son’s form. As quickly as he melted, he was rebuilt.

The arms around him changed position, chilled him even through his clothes. Solid ground reappeared under his feet. The ache in his side fell away, the other wounds disappearing into mist. His throat became sore and itchy, fatigue settled into his very bones. A light weight was held against him.

Jack carefully pulled back. Phantom’s green eyes stared back at him, a relieved smile coming to both of their faces as, finally, they no longer eerily stared at themselves. “I love you, Danny.” Jack repeated, even as talking felt like gargling sharp gravel. But it didn’t matter, he needed Danny to hear this from his father’s voice, for once. “You’re safe.” 

“Are… are you two back in your own bodies now?” Maddie asked, approaching them as they separated. 

Jack just smiled and nodded, suddenly exhausted.

Phantom floated there, before gritting his teeth together and edging closer to her until he was only just beyond arm’s reach. “Yeah, mom.” He said. “I’m in my body. This is my body - this is who I am.”

Maddie smiled even as tears fell down her face. “I’m glad you’re back where you belong.” She said, holding out her hands to him. He came closer and reached for her, allowing her to pull him into a hug. “I love you, too. All of you.”

She was the first to pull away, though she didn’t release his hands. “I’m sorry, Danny. Just like your father. We never would have hunted Phantom if we’d known it was you. I’m sorry that we made life so hard for you that you had no way of knowing that. God, I’d do anything to take it all back. Every awful thing we’ve ever done or said.” She looked at his hand, the wrist he’d broken last night. “I’m sorry for the lengths you’ve had to go to in order to be safe from us.”

“I think we should all go home,” Jack said, glancing at the school. “Maddie, can you go check out Danny and Jasmine? I think today’s been hard enough.” His wife nodded, heading to do so.

Finally, he turned to Sam and Tucker. “I’m sorry I lied to you. But thank you. For keeping him safe all these years. I’m so grateful Danny has you two. And I promise both of you that he has two less people you need to keep him safe from.” His throat felt like it was layered with razors, but Danny had been fine. He could be strong enough for Danny, just long enough for the things that needed to be said.

“We love him too, Mr. F.” Tucker said, fidgeting with the he of his shirt.

“And we will always protect each other.” Sam added. The glare in her eyes was a warning, Jack knew. The two of them would make sure his parents kept to their word.

Jack really couldn’t ask for better friends for his son.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“Wait a sec, Danny.” Tucker said. “He only knows you’ve died and he freaked about your human heartbeat.”

Jack looked at them curiously. Was there more?

Danny groaned slightly. “Great, I already had to explain halfas to mom today.” He leaned his head back and whined. Tucker and Sam laughed, waving their goodbyes.

“I don’t need to know everything immediately. We can wait until you’re ready.” Jack said, shivering slightly, both from fever and the cool day. Part of him didn’t want to know yet, wanted to go home and down some more cough medicine. His entire head hurt.

“Did you see the scar on my left hand?” Danny asked.

Jack nodded. “I don’t know how I never saw it.”

“Human eyesight isn’t good enough for it.” He explained, hovering closer and pulling off his left glove, facing his palm out towards Jack. “Look.”

He studied his son’s arm, the scar so much more visible now. It looked like long healed scar tissue, in the same pattern he’d been studying periodically all day. “Electrical injury.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think the electricity might be why I’m the way I am, like, with what I’m about to show you. I mean, I already know it’s why I’m a ghost. But I… there’s a very long story for us to face when we get home. I don’t know how what I am works and I don’t think I want to. But I’m still half human. My human heart… it couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t get it back. I’m more than human, though. Ugh, I’m babbling. Here. Just… just feel for it.” He offered up his hand to his father.

Jack accepted, pressing his fingers to Danny’s wrist. He inhaled deeply as he did, blinking back tears.

As he felt, under ice cold skin, the gentle beating of his son’s heart.

My Second Husband by BearTrainer

From BeefyFrat Library, before it disappears.

When people ask how Max and I ended up together and I tell them the story, I don’t know why I always get the same response. "No way! You’re making that up." I guess folks can’t believe that guys like us really exist, although all they’d really have to do is take one look at Max for proof that we do. Or maybe they were the way I was once—believing what they are told they should think is attractive, instead of going with their gut (no pun intended) about what really turns their crank. But our story is true, and this is how it happened. I had been with Larry since grad school, and he was conventionally beautiful in that very All-American kind of way you see in every magazine—a naturally athletic physique honed to complete perfection at the gym and through long-distance cycling, short cropped dark blonde hair over arresting blue eyes. He had had a wild past before I met him—"I was a slut," he said to me when we first got together, half-proud of it—and at the time, in my younger days, I thought he was a catch. And, frankly by any one’s standards, including mine, he was—he had graduated first in his law school class at Boalt, scored a great job in the state Attorney General’s office, moving up the ranks until he was pulling down an incredible salary, but best of all, he was very much in love with me. His devotion allowed me to do what I needed to do to get my own art consulting business off the ground, and together we had a great life. Big house, long vacations, hot sex life—the works. The end of all this came suddenly and unexpectedly one night in the form of a phone call, and it took me every bit of a year to truly grasp that Larry had been killed. Of all my many friends who helped me through this nightmare, my friend Linda was the best, and though I hardly left the house for a year afterward, she faithfully visited me, talked me through everything that needed to be done, and never failed to try to gently but firmly pull me back into life. Thus, it was she who suggested when the enormous check from Larry’s life insurance came that I consider buying the half-acre lot behind the house, which had been on the market for years and had not yet been sold. "Face it, Bob. You better start putting all this into some kind of investments, otherwise it’s all going to be gone before you know it. And besides, Larry’d want it that way, wouldn’t he?" "But what am I going to do with all that land?" She laughed. "Plant a garden." "Garden?" Now it was my turn to laugh. "I could plant a farm on that much land." "So plant a farm!" "Right. Me, Mr. Outdoors." "Sweetie, you don’t get it. You design it, you’d love doing that, wouldn’t you, and then you hire people to do it for you. I’m sure the owner’d close in a second, especially for all-cash. He hasn’t been able to move that thing in a month of Sundays." I had to admit, she was right. I happened to know that really I was the only one who’d want this parcel, as an extension of my already large backyard, since it was too small really to interest any developers or builders, and, frankly, the idea of a largem, beautiful garden did sound like something I’d enjoy. Plus the symbol of planting a garden to memorialize Larry made me feel good. "But Christ, Linda, the lot’s a mess. It’d take forever to clear." "You aren’t clearing it. You hire people. Must I repeat myself?" Well, indeed, Linda was right on all counts. The sale closed in two weeks, the owner was thrilled to get the money for his own retirement, and after surveying the bramble-covered ground, the misshapen, unpruned fig trees, and overgrown roses, I drew up a few plans for a series of raised beds, a patio of bricks, and an arbor that I could see from our—now my—deck and hot tub in the back. "So now what?" I asked her pointedly one day over lunch at her house. "Who am I going to get to come in and do the grunt work?" She looked over her cup of coffee. "Same guy I use. Max." "Max?" She flipped her hair absentmindedly. "A little bit of a Sad Sack, especially now. Guess his wife ran off on him with some hunk, so he really needs the work. But he’s a workhorse all right. Not your type at all. You know, all dark, hairy and Italian." she kidded me, "Built like a brick chickenhouse, but he’s probably put on a good 30 or 40 pounds since the separation, getting really fat. He’s perfect for things like this—tough work, steady job, not much talk involved. I pay him $10 an hour around here and he puts in 10 and 12 hour days for me when I need him to—you know, taking stuff to the dump, stacking firewood. Call him. He’ll bust his ass for you, promise." No one knew my secret, of course, then, least of all Linda—the secret that just the mere description of Max gave me an instant hard-on, that I had spent my whole life fantasizing about guys like that, that I would go out of my way to hang out around construction sites and workcrews hoping to spot some big overfed bruiser. I’d even tried many times to see if I could get Larry to start to plump up a little, serving him seconds or trying to get him to eat late or drink a few more beers, but he was both both vain about his looks and had the metabolism of a athlete, and the few times after long vacations in Europe he had come home wearing an extra ten or so pounds on his belly, it quickly melted away. So I had long contented myself to stealing glances at chunks around town and occasionally, surreptitiously, I would peek through magazines at the newsracks, storing up pictures in my head for later when I’d imagine these huge, soft, indulgent fat men, making love to me, letting me feed them, reveling in their bodies. I thought at the time that I was the only one who had such fantasies, looking at all the pretty boys and muscle hunks in all the magazines and instead of getting off on them, imagining instead that they were slowly letting themselves go, getting all big and sloppy, turning into real men from the little twinkies everyone else seemed to like. Thus, contrary to Linda’s comments, the idea of hiring Max sounded like the best part of the whole plan yet. When he showed up that Monday, Max was indeed a dream come true. A squat 5’9" or so and an easy 250, he shook my hand with his own rough, thick paw and mumbled a sort of shy , "Hey there." I could see what Linda had said about the weight gain, because he was wearing a pair of denim shorts at least 3 sizes to small still, slung low on his hips, just above his ass, accentuating a belly that bounced firmly beneath his orange sleeveless T-shirt. As he stood in front of me, legs spread wide, shifting his weight from side to side, every part of him was thick, it seemed to me—heavy lids, broad nose, fleshy lips, a pair of Popeye size forearms with a coat of sparse fur, burly chest gone round and jiggly with the extra poundage, bulging biceps and calves that quivered with flesh as he walked with me around the back so I could show him what I wanted him to do. He looked a bit beaten down by life, that was true, his dark eyes big and sad, but then again it was 7:30 a.m. and that might have just been because of the early hour. Even if it was only April, it was better to start early on yardwork before the Sacramento heat kicked in around noon. About to leave him to the bramble bushes, wheelbarrow and shears, I asked casually, "Hey, want some coffee?" thinking this would be perhaps my first test of him. He smiled a little, surveying the yard he was going to be clearing for me. "Yeah, sure." "Say, you hungry at all? I made some muffins." From under his bushy eyebrows, he looked at me and smiled even more broadly. "I was born hungry." Then he rubbed his belly with a sheepish expression, "Lately, especially." "Yeah, Linda told me." "About my situation, you mean?" He looked away, still rubbing himself and gulping a bit. "Yeah. So don’t worry, Max. I got plenty of work for you here." "Cool. I could use the work. Can’t believe she’s taking me for what she’s taking me for. And she left me." "Sounds tough. But forget it about for now. You got your work cut out for you with this lot, believe me. Let me get you your stuff." Hands practically trembling with excitement, I brought him a whole tray and put it on the patio table in the shade nearby—8 or 9 fresh hot blueberry muffins piled high, a big dish of butter and cream cheese, a pot of coffee, with cream and sugar, and he gave me a grateful wave from back by the fence before I went back in. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I spent that entire morning playing with myself as I stood there peeking through the blinds in the back bedroom at him, while he worked. Not knowing I was looking of course, he was completely unself-conscious about his body, shirt riding up constantly over that hairy gut of his with the deep navel, the girth of it amazing to me at any angle—squeezed over his thighs as he bent down, jutting out like a prow when he reached up, gorgeous lovehandles with tiny scratches from the stickerbushes pouched up over the sides. His soft tits would sway deliciously in the tight T-shirt when he’d lean over to pull out some of the weeds and depending on where he was, the shorts he was wearing but had outgrown would then ride down and give me a very arousing view of the crack of his ass. Being essentially a muscular guy under all the newfat he was sporting, his buttcheeks were enormous and firm, sticking out in a way that made me breathless with desire as I watched him. He polished off the muffins and coffee throughout the morning, waddling up to the deck and giving me a great view on his way, strutting on back to his wheelbarrow, arms swinging wide at the side, the way fat men walk when they mean business. I tried to keep myself from shooting as he would pop a whole muffin in his face, washing it down with a big gulp of coffee, his cheeks bloated like a greedy bear feeding for wintertime, half-moons of sweat darkening the shirt under his mantits, and the only thing that kept me from losing it was my own wish to make the pleasure last as long as possible. He was, indeed, a fantasy come true for me, and I realized that it was going to be up to me to make the best of it. Around about noon, I saw Max lumbering toward the house, shirt now wringing wet and clinging to him everywhere, every roll, curve and fold, rivulets of sweat clearly glistening in that furry armpit of his. I scrambled to meet him outside the kitchen door. "Taking a break?" I asked. "You been working hard, I see." Most of the back by the fence was now clear and a high pile of debris was visible on the side. "Yup. Gotta get some lunch." He was huffing and puffing a bit, continuing to flash his pits at me as he wiped off his forehad with his hand. "But, man, those muffins were great." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks." I stopped him, as he turned to go. "Hey, Max, wait. I’ll make lunch." He looked back at me and, without thinking, I’m sure, licked his lips, just the idea of food eliciting an automatic response. "Nah, I couldn’t let you. . . . I’ll just go to McDonald’s." "Don’t worry about it. I got to make lunch for myself. And besides, you don’t have anyone cooking for you anymore, do you?" He raised an eyebrow and made a face. "Nope. Actually, I don’t know I’ve gained the 50 I’ve put on since she dumped me, man. But I guess it’s all the junk food I’ve been eating." "Then tell you what, you sit down on the patio, I’ll bring you some lemonade, and how’s about a nice Italian meal. You like carbonara?" His eyes lit up. "I haven’t had that in a long time. You make that?" "Listen, man. You got a long afternoon ahead. It’s the least I could do. Don’t want you falling down in a dead faint from hunger." He laughed and his whole belly shook. "Falling away to a ton, more like it. If you’re sure it ain’t a problem. . . ." He was stroking the bottom of his gut like he was greeting an old friend, and I swear I heard his stomach growl. Yes, indeed, he was a live one, all right, that I could see. Just the mention of a home-cooked meal, and this guy was drooling. After putting the water on to boil, I came back with the frosty pitcher of lemonade I had promised him and suddenly the shoe was on the other and it was I who was drooling. Max had taken off his shirt and was laying back in my lounge chair, wiping his chest off with the T-shirt, his gut rising and falling slowly in the sun. Hearing me come, he sat up and started to apologize. I raised my hand and poured him a tall glass. "Relax. I’ll be cracking the whip this afternoon, big guy. Right now, take your break and get a tan." He slapped his belly. "Lot to tan, these days." "You’ve put on 50 pounds?" I asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact when I could barely keep my voice from quivering from excitement. "Doesn’t look it." "Well, to me it does. I mean, I"ve always been big, but after she left me, I figured, what the fuck. I was always worried about my weight before, with her, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. You know, I was working out all the time, trying to stay tight. So now, baby," he rolled his gut back and forth in his big paws, clearly loving it, "What you see is what you get." "Looks like that’s kind of you, if you know what I mean." "Yup, that’s the way I figure it, too. Big wop peasant, that’s me. You either like or you don’t." I’ll like it, I’ll like it already, I thought to myself on my way back to the kitchen. Making enough spaghetti for ten, stirring the eggs, cheese and bacon, along with a healthy pan of grease into it with a few deft strokes, until it all smoothed out into that sauce everyone raves about, but which is the simplest thing in the world to put together, I tossed a loaf of crusty bread and a plateful of cream cheese cookies on the tray and brought it out to him. He ate like a man just let out of prison, and I tried to pick politely at my own plate of spaghetti across from him at our glass-top patio table but found myself almost completely unable to stop staring as he shoveled in forkful after forkful. He’d wind such large bales of spaghetti on his fork that he had to strain to get it in his unshaven mouth, dumping down whole glasses of lemonade between bites and tearing off hunks of bread to sop up the sauce, ravenous, unapologetic and just unbearably sexy. After about 3 plates heaped high of my handiwork, he leaned back, stomach swollen and shiny in the bright sun and let out a discreet burp. "You don’t know how good it is to have a homemade meal." "I can see,"I said, trying not to sound judgmental. "I know I’m making a pig out of myself, but it’s been a long time since I had this kind of food. Reminds me of Mom. My own old lady was a shitty cook." "Plus you’ve been busting ass all morning. You should eat." He licked his lips and ran his tongue around his teeth. "That, too. I like this kind of work, though. It’s what I’m made for. You know, just a real physical guy." "Works for me. I could use someone like you around the house." He poked his chin out at the pile of cookies. "Homemade, too?" I nodded, "Cream cheese, lemon, poppyseed." "You’re going to think I’m a hog, ain’t you, eating all your food." I waved my hand. "Hey, Max. First of all, you’re working hard. Second of all, you’re a big guy. Third of all, I made it for you to eat. And fourth of all, I’d be insulted if you didn’t like it." Max laughed. "Man! I could use someone like you around the house," and away he dove into the mountain of cookies. My head was swimming as I excused myself to go into the house on some pretext, and creeping into the bedroom again, my hands furiously rubbing my swollen crotch, my dick as wringing wet from precum as Max’s shirt, I debated with myself about whether or not to take a peek at him again. It felt sort of sleazy but the whole morning was so incredibly hot that my lust got the better of me and over I went to the window. Practically bursting to cum anyway, I found itt took only a glance at what Max was doing on the patio and there I was shooting load after load of jism right into my own shorts: there he was, not knowing anyone was looking, grabbing long thick ropes of spaghetti right out of the pot and feeding them to himself with his hands, head tilted back, greedy mouth open wide to the world, as cheese, egg and bacon grease dripped onto his cheeks and tits. He was a hog, all right, a huge dark working-class hog. That was the moment I was determined to make him mine. It felt idiotic, of course, and I didn’t dare breathe a word of it to my friend Linda or anyone else—here I was trying to seduce some fat straight Italian guy by feeding him silly—and for the longest time that month I thought all my troubles in the past year had really knocked me off my rocker. But, you know what, I didn’t care. I was completely getting off on it and had enough discretion and self-control to take my time and not tip Max off to what was going on in my feverish little head. Who knew where it would lead? But as far as I was concerned, I was sure as hell going to give it my best shot. It wasn’t hard to condition the big guy to show up at seven-thirty sharp every morning—not after a week of just happening to make stacks and stacks of fresh walnut waffles with honey cream and strawberries, or a few dozen pancakes drippng with butter and syrup. A couple of good hearty breakfasts like that on his way out to the backyard for work, and Max was the soul of promptness from then on. Unfailingly polite about it, always asking, "You sure you aren’t going to all this trouble for me?" even as he tucked away a few more slices of poundcake or another round of apricot danish, he’d lounge a little bit longer and longer every day before hoisting his bulk up from my kitchen chair, dumping another wallop of half-and-half into his coffee and making his way out back. "A man’s gotta eat, Max. Besides, I feel it’s the best way to get my money’s worth out of you." He caught the joke and smiled. "If this is how you want me to work, Bobby, I’m game," thumping his big old labonza with his two fists, like Tarzan. Mid-morning snacks were always cookies—I tried practically every cookie in Joy of Cooking that month and learned quickly to triple the recipe—and even with an enormous breakfast under his belt and enough treats to feed a kindergarten class twice over, my big guy always managed to have room for the abundant Italian dinners I served for mid-day meal—veal parmigiana turned out to be one of his particular favorites, along with lasagne and tortellini in cream sauce. I was amazed at the gusto with which he could put away anything I put before him, along with a few pitchers of iced tea, and at least a loaf of bread, and figuring it was in my interest to make him completely comfortable in my home, I’d encourage him after such mammoth meals to stretch out on the lounge chair and take a nap. "That’s what they do in Italy, you know. Big meal, take their time, go for a siesta," I told him, as he settled in, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes, huge thighs spread wide. "They do, huh? I never been. You?" "Oh yeah, I’ve been a few times, on vacation." "Heh, heh. Guess that’s where you learned to make all this great shit, huh?" I loved his habit of rubbing his belly. "You going this year?" "Italy, nah," I said, cleaning up the dishes. "Too much to do around here." "I hear you," he said softly, drifting off to sleep. That’s when I’d have my own fun, listening to him snore, watching his big gut rise and fall in the sun, trying to decide whether his pecs were getting rounder and fuller, his nipples bigger and more prominent, his navel deeper and more inviting, or whether it was all in my perverse imagination. Since he was on a gaining upswing anyway, it wasn’t long before the effect of my abundant meals started to show, and after about a month I could see new folds of flesh gathering up at his waist, another double chin appearing, his lips looking smaller and redder as his face got chubbier, and I knew this wasn’t my imagination. More than a little conflicted about what I was doing, I nevertheless found myself in a state of high erotic tension, jerking off sometimes as much as 5 or 6 times a day, and sometimes even 2 or 3 times in a row during his siesta in which his huge overfed body, that blimping body I was feeding, was sprawled out before me. And yet, there was no clue, not even a hint of erotic response on his part. Like every straight man I had ever known, he seemed perfectly happy to take whatever he could and eat it up. Indeed, if anything, he spoke as if he were my son, telling me constantly things like, "You sure you haven’t been talking to my mom?" whenever I’d make something he really loved, or "You’re babying me, Bobby. Don’t. Stop. Don’t stop," like when I would be spooning out ice cream for him or dishing up a rice pudding. Making excellent progress on the yard, by the end of the month the whole thing was cleared, the trenches had been dug for the raised beds, and really all that was left was for us to go to the nursery and get the planting mix and for me to pick out what it was I wanted to plant. I decided to use the occasion to push my relationship with Max to the next level, if possible. Since I had to go with him to the nursery in his truck, to pick out the plants, on the way, I said casually, "Say, Max, how about we do this? You been working so hard on the garden with me, let’s say you pick out what you want to plant and then you can have half of what I grow." He raised his eyebrows. "And like what am I going to do with it? It’s not like I cook or anything." "Well, I just. . . you know. . . . I feel bad. You’ve built the garden for me, really from scratch, and it’s beautiful. I just want to say thanks, you know." He smiled his crooked little shy smile. "Shit, man, you been paying me. It’s not like you owe me anything. More like the other way around." "What do you mean?" He pouched his lips. "You know what I mean. You treat me like a fucking king. You feed me better than any of my girlfriends, even almost better than my mom, for Christ’s sakes, which is something. Don’t tell I said that. So you don’t owe me nothing, really." "But you know what I’m saying, Max. It’s your work. You should have a piece of it." He thought a bit, reaching around his belly that was practically touching the steering wheel, in order to pull in the nursery lot. "Tell you what, Bob. Let’s do that. It’ll be our garden. That’s cool." And then suddenly, completely unexpectedly, he threw an arm around me in the car and gave a hug. "You been a good friend, Bobby. I really appreciate it." Well, for better or worse, I took all that as a sign of tremendous progress and figured that I just better strike while the iron was hot. Helping him heave the 50 or so sacks of dirt on the back of the truck, and loading both of us up with enough tomoto, zucchini, bean, basil and pepper seedlings for a small village, he pulled the truck into the back yard where the frames for the raised planters lay empty and waiting, and that afternoon, we worked side by side, me tossing the sacks down to him, him ripping them open with his bare hands and dumping them into the beds. It was hot and dirty work and both of us, stripped down to the waist and covered in smelly planting mix, said nothing most of the afternoon. He looked so fine that day, strong and active, tipping the scales at nearly 300 after the weeks of feeding, a big mountain of man, working hard, eating big, sweating like an animal. He helped me down from the back of the truck with a hand and I made him help me decide where to put all the plants we had bought. "Damn, Bob. Look at you," he exclaimed by the end of it all, as I stood watering the boxes with the sprinkler hose. "Sunburned within an inch of your life." "So I am." Actually, I was really just a little red but an idea popped into my head when he said that. "I should probably clean up. What you want for dinner?" I handed him the hose. "Oh, I can’t stay for dinner. Thanks, though." "What do you mean, you can’t stay. You got plans?" He drew his mouth together and looked off. "No, no plans. I never got any plans. It’s just that. . . . Well, I don’t want to impose." I took the liberty of putting my arm around his big shoulders and said in as intimate a way I could, "Not an imposition. Besides, you’re my partner in the garden now. I want you, too." He looked at me sideways, a little uncertain, but not unpleased and broke into a big smile. "That’s right. Half of us this shit’s mine. Don’t forget it." "So let’s do this. I’ll clean up and start dinner. You go take a shower and I’ll call you when I’m ready." "Sounds good, bud." He continued to sprinkle, not looking at me. I amazed myself at how quickly I showered and pulled together a dinner of epic proportions, garlic toasts topped with mozzarella and fresh tomatoes, a first course of linguini with homemade pesto, a second course of pan friend chicken in mushroom cream sauce, with scalopped potatoes and creamed spinach to accompany it, and of course, my own personal specialty, tiramisu for dessert—sponge cake layered with sweet Italian cream, chocolate and cocoa. Hoping things would go as I planned, I kept my eye on the big guy in the back and when I saw him coming toward the house, I met him at the sliding glass door in the back and handed him a couple of huge bath towels. "You know where the bath is, right? Take your time. I’m probably going to be in the tub. Best thing for a sunburn." He sniffed the air, smelling the garlic, the mushrooms the chocolate and he sighed. "I could get used to this," and off he waddled into the bathroom, hairy back still smelling of earth and sweat. That half-hour by myself in the hot tub waiting for him to re-emerge was the longest of my life, because I knew it all would be decided there and then. If he came out and joined me, we were home free. If not, then all my work had been in vain, I had been a fool to think he could be brought to my side of the fence, and I was going to come away from this month with nothing but increased culinary expertise and a lifetime of gainerboy fantasies. He looked like heaven on earth with that big towel wrapped around him, black hair all matted and wet from the shower, belly hanging out, as he waddled onto the deck and stood above me. "You’re not going to believe this, Bob." I looked up at him, all of him, standing like a colossus above me. "What?" "I weighed myself on your scale." I tried to act nonchalant, my arms spread on either side of me. "And? You 300 yet?" He started a bit. "Nooo. Just under. 297." "Then I guess I got some more work to do, huh?" He looked at me and I looked at him, both of us raising our eyebrows in unison and with one fell swoop, he removed his towel and started to laugh. The water spilled out over the tub as he climbed in and came over to my side, pinning me against the tub with his bulk. "Hey, man, I didn’t go to grad school, but I knew what you were up to, boy. You think I didn’t know." I felt so small against him, my whole body surrounded by his warmth and his strength, his stomach and arms holding me motionless, his beautiful lips inches away from mine. "I didn’t know if you knew." I could feel my hard-on jutting between his soft thighs and then felt his, pinned between his gut and my abs. "Tell you a secret. . . ." he said, almost whispering, flirtatiously. "What’s that?" "Linda didn’t tell you?" I drew back and looked at him quizzically. "Tell me what?" "Why my old lady left?" It didn’t take me long to scout out what he was saying to me, just by looking into those eyes of his, gleaming with mirth. "Oh, I see. So that’s what happened." He started stroking my neck with his blunt rough fingers. "Yeah, she found out, and man, I got so depressed, I decided, what the fuck, I’d just eat myself into oblivion. Who would have thought?" I started to moan. "Max, who would have thought?" "I mean, if I hadn’t gotten as fat as I had. . . ." I closed my eyes and kissed him, "You wouldn’t have me, would you?" "I saw you, baby, that first day and I thought, ‘So what’s that fox going to want with some fat guy like me.’ That is until you started fattening me up, then I knew." "You knew the whole time?" He nuzzled my neck and murmured, "Why do you think I’ve been eating like this? I thought it was the only way I was going to get you." "And here I was thinking I was being so clever." "Hey, I’m not as dumb as I look. Besides. . . ." He hesitated, beginning to rub his gut up and down and caress my cock with his thighs underwater. "You need to get new Venetian blinds. The ones you got are noisy." I opened my eyes wide and tried to push him away in mock offense. "No way. You knew! You little shit!" "Heh, heh. Thought you’d like the show. And turns out you did." Stunned, I took a deep breath and ran my hands around his girth, slowly feeling the yielding flesh of his waist and taking a large nipple into my mouth just above the surface of the bubbling water. "I ain’t done with you yet bubba. You’re still a little on the thin side for me." His face grew serious and with a quick deft movement, he spread my legs, opened me up with his fingers and gently sat my ass down on his cock. I grunted with pleasure. "And I ain’t done with you." He began to fuck me, using the rhythm of the water to thrust deep and gentle at the same time. "So tell your big husband what’s for dinner?" I moaned even more loudly, hanging on to him around the neck, feeling his soft hairy tits against my chest, closing my eyes and letting him take me "Everything you love, Max. Just for you. Linguine and pesto." He thrust harder. "Chicken and mushrooms." Another quick deep thrust that made me moan. "Scalopped potatoes." He picked up the pace, panting, "I love scalopped potatoes. Creamed spinach?" he asked, punctuating it with yet another thrust inside me. I could barely speak, Max rutting away in me, feeling him take me. "You gonna make me fat, huh? Bobby? You gonna make me fat?" I was laughing, crying and moaning all at the same time, so stimulated I didn’t even know where I was. He was my whole world right then. "Tiramisu, Max. I made you tiramisu." His mouth and hands were all over me, slick and insistent and both of us got closer and closer, the water sloshing like a tidal wave out of the tub and splashing onto the deck. "I’m going to get huge, Bobby. Fucking huge. And you’re going to make me that way. I want to eat everything. I want to eat you." And then as he started to come inside me, his voice narrowed to a whine, "I love being fat for you, Bob. I love being fat. I love being fat. I love being fat." And holding on to him in an enormous bearhug of my own, I buried my face in all the warm sweet soft flesh of his chest and answered him, as I humped my own load out against his stomach. "I want you, Max. I want you huge. The more there is, the more I want. Get fat for me. Please, get fat for me. Get fat. Get fat." That was seven years ago, and little did we know at the time that each of us were exchanged a wedding vow of sorts, a commitment to a relationship. Max has continued to grow for me, not quite at the pace of that first month, but for a 425 pound man, he looks mighty fine: staying active, working out and chowing down at every possible opportunity makes him look awesome—undeniably fat, with a gargantuan belly and legs bigger than my waist, but moving with all the slow grace of a beautiful strong man. And of course, I couldn’t be happier, enjoying every square inch of him and proud that every pound of him comes from my hand and is given to me every night. As unlikely a couple as we are, people unfailingly ask us how we got together, and when I tell them this story, they try to be polite but I can tell they think I’m bullshitting them. But that’s the truth and that’s how it happened. Maybe I should just make Max come out and demonstrated how easy it is for him to eat a pans of lasagne or one of those whole Boston cream pies he likes so much the way you or I pop down a candy bar. Maybe then they’d believe me when I tell them that my second husband is, indeed, one in a million.

I had a realization today. Men will never understand what it's like to have and take care of children. They don't have to grow the baby, they don't feel the baby's consciousness inside them, they never have to give birth or recover from birth. For them, parenthood consists of getting off and several months later a wiggly crying baby. No emotional connection, no love, absolutely nothing. I remember before my daughter was born reading stuff online in the pregnancy group and other related FB groups I was in about fathers not connecting to their kids until they are much older, usually 3-4 years old and can talk and do things before they can form any connection with them. Men want the pride of producing offspring and yet have no ability to bond with that same offspring.

Women should just stop having babies with men.

I don't really care, if you come from a loving stable family, this is true regardless. My dad was always a better father than he was a husband. I would not call him a great father, he has since tried to make up for things and the way he treated me as a kid and teenager but my mother, as bad and uncaring as she is, was more emotionally invested than my dad ever was. We lived with my mother when my parents separated. I was 10, my brother was 6. We visited my dad only on weekends for a couple hours which consisted of me doing household chores and my brother helping my dad outside or putting stuff together. My dad wasn't able to handle us for very long.

My ex-husband, wanted to have kids with me at some point when we didn't live in the US. I had grown up not wanting kids (and not wanting to ever get married) both reasons because I didn't want to turn out like my parents. He eventually convinced me that having kids would be ok. I did accidentally get pregnant and he told me he could "smell it" and told me to get and abortion or he would rip it out of me. I refused. I miscarried soon after due to working multiple jobs, dealing with his drug addicted abuse, being the head of the household, and sleep deprived. If the baby had lived, they would have turned 5 this year.

My husband, we had agreed to having kids in maybe 5 years or so after we got married. In 2022, F's wife was pregnant and he asked me if I was interested in having a kid. I said ok. I was pretty delusional. My husband has many nieces and nephews, who I thought he was very good with. I thought he would love having kids and that having kids would strengthen our marriage, etc. When I got pregnant, it was the day before our honeymoon when I got a positive test. The entire honeymoon was hard to enjoy, he didn't believe I was actually pregnant. The honeymoon was a three country trip over the course of three weeks. After the first week in the first country, I was exhausted and tired all the time. He called me lazy all the time, tried to force me to eat, (morning sickness made it impossible for me to want to eat anything), I had a fair amount of hormones going on so I was emotional, as there were some stressful things that happened, and of course he was not understanding. This only got worse as the honeymoon went on. I felt my experience for Umrah ( going to Mecca) was ruined because of this. When we were in his home country and eventually meeting his parents his behavior got way worse. Long story short, he only got worse over time and was very unaffected about having a kid and saw all my concerns and me trying to teach him stuff as a joke. I knew he wouldn't be a helper or be spending as much time as he could with the baby, but I thought he'd be better than this. Two maybe three months after she was born, he started threatening to abandon us and now he's not stupid like his eldest brother who is in a bad/failed marriage and won't divorce her before their kid. He won't fall for that and will just leave. He still threatens this. That he will go home, sell the house so we will have no support and be homeless. But he's mentioned that "oh it's so sad that I am trying to ruin my daughter's life by making her grow up without a father." And maybe he will send a few hundred dollars here and there for child support.

Imagine if I remarried. This man would take on a kid who's not his and wants more kids. What kind of life would my daughter have, those kids have because men are incapable of connecting or understanding what it's like to be a parent and have kids.

Have Love Back : Does Your Fan Would like to Break Upwards With You?

Is your lover seeking to make you? Do you have some sort of sense actually yanking away from an individual, or even get worried which they may be cheating with an individual else? Do an individual want to find love back, nevertheless you're afraid in the future right out and have him or the woman what's really going on? Or merely hoping that what ever it truly is, it will blow over? Heavy down, you are aware this won't just move away. Here will be the signs to be aware of when a lover is moving in the direction, or possibly about to, walk away and end the relationship, or your marriage: just one. He or the lady is always hectic Suddenly, it seems like, right now there are more evening meetings your lover simply must attend, more conferences needing weekends away, and great list regarding reasons that they can't invest as much moment with you because you're used to be able to. In fact, an individual barely ever discover them. Has their own career suddenly turn out to be that much even more demanding? If an individual know some regarding your boyfriend's or girlfriend's or spouse's colleagues, it is usually possible to discover out, within a simple way that doesn't noise like you're only checking up about your lover. At a new casual gathering, consider a comment concerning, for example, the particular seminar at a recent conference, or a charitable trust event that your current man or if your lady has alerted you they will attended, or something that shows several genuine interest inside a recent event that will, logically, both this individual or she along with the colleague would possess attended, and watch for the colleague's reaction, particularly their face and body gestures. It could explain to you a great deal. 2. They're always late Being late or not turning up by any means or regularly not calling whenever they said these people would ("the getting together with ran over") happen to be clear signs that you are no longer somebody they can keep even small promises in order to - and very likely, not the larger promises, either. 3. They terminate dates or programs at the last minute This might occur once, but once it can a new style, it's cause regarding concern. 4. Using you for awarded Always expecting you are going to be there when they finally do contact, or have evening meal on the table when they will do yield, or provide other companies is just an additional form of thoughtlessness. If they've set you in the particular role of continuous provider, it is no more a romantic relationship of mutual have faith in and respect. your five. Lies and omissions No, they failed to "forget, " these people simply didn't take the time to remember. To obtain love back, you should get the trust back. 6. Title contacting Name contacting, like denial, will be another way in order to divert attention from what's really going on. All couples battle, but name phoning is fighting unclean. 7. Criticizing an individual constantly "You often... " or "You never... " or even "Why can't you... " are criticism, and not on a positive and loving way, yet in an approach that tears a person down. read more 's certainly not the behaviour associated with someone who really loves you. It really is much worse because it happens in front of others. 7. Endless arguments regarding nothing All married couples have conflicts, in addition to all either learn positive ways to be able to resolve them, usually deepening their connect in the act, or they will learn how to live using their differences, or even the relationship comes to an end. If you discover that it appears you are always arguing about points that really no longer matter (who did not remember to change the potty roll, who didn't stop on how house for milk, that should have wandered your canine or place the trash out and about or paid some sort of bill), but nothing to looks to change, your current relationship is within trouble because these types of arguments aren't actually about the potty roll, etc. : that's just the trigger and a momentary irritation. And if it appears that much more equally of you will be irritated, or openly angry, much regarding the time, that's another sign. Uncertain chronic anger will be a guaranteed relationship-killer. 9. Less Closeness There's less cuddling, or none. You can't remember the very last time you hugged. Or kissed. The little things - a glance, a touch inside passing, a contributed smile or have a good laugh, a compliment, occur less often, or perhaps not in any way any longer. People just conference you wouldn't notice you as some sort of couple, because an individual no longer are most often connected. 10. Fewer Sex Or none of them at all. This is the best test that your lover is floating away away - they no more want sexual, no less than not together with you. There are various feasible explanations, together with a health condition, job strain, aging, or the particular one you may possibly actually be worrying, that they will be cheating on an individual. So, is your current lover on the verge of leaving behind you? You need to gather all the information an individual can, think through what you need and want, and possess the difficult chat. Be prepared regarding news that may injure you. Keep in mind that almost all people don't want to have to say "I no longer love a person. inches Instead, they will send the message, in all of the regarding the ways previously mentioned, hoping they is not going to must ever have the reveal the particular 'real' reason. Or even it could get that something provides gone very completely wrong at work, a few past problem you know nothing about has come to haunt the provide, there is a health get worried... There are many signs to be able to watch for or reasons why nevertheless the only way to be able to figure out whats actually wrong is to be able to watch, think and even ask. Think regarding what's happened, exactly why you're unhappy in addition to schedule a moment to talk with the partner. If nor of you tries to solve things or perhaps is unwilling to admit there is usually a problem in that case nothing will get better. They may end up being leaving you. Or they may end up being crying out intended for help. To acquire your lover backside [http://suddenlysingleonline.com/], you must gather the courage and produce the opportunity to find out and about.

Astrology Notes: Followers Choice

Hi my peoples, so as you all know I asked some of you what placements or aspects you would want to see in a post and now time has come to deliver on that promise. This took quite a bit of research and I gently want to remind you that I am not an expert, but regardless please enjoy.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤��

When I tell you I got jealous researching Composite Moon Conjunct Jupiter, you better believe I would give this couple the finger irl (as a coping mechanism for my jealous ass). Not only do you guys enjoy spending time with each other,but you two genuinely like each other thanks to an emotional bond. You feel better emotionally when together and feel the happiest in this relationship. Your basically each others feel good person. However you should be careful not to invest so much into this relationship that you neglect your responsibilities and other meaningful relationships. Just couple goals over all.

Psyche Conjunct MC is a really interesting aspect as it could mean entrance to the self and understanding of your soul and mind through your career path, goals, achievements and reputation. This realization could happen around the time of young adulthood or late teens. It's almost as if you see the the understanding of yourself as indistinguishable from your reputation and what success and status you achieve in your career and social circles.

Neptune Opposite Lilith...there is a lot to unpack here. First of you might have difficulty connecting to your emotions and as a result it could feel like you have this raging fire deep within you that needs to be suppressed as it might consume you and you do so by turning to escapism. You are torn between wanting to be independent and wanting to feel needed which creates an intense need for intimacy. You should be careful as not to continue believing you have love in places reality as proven to you that there is none. You could experience bouts of self pity because you feel emotionally misunderstood or neglected. By accepting your emotions and allowing yourself to be vulnerable you can accept yourself and open yourself up to healing and a powerful transformation.

Ascendant Quincunx Chiron could struggle to accept the limitations their inner wounds have on their appearance, attitude and identity in general. You try to put up a facade to hide and dent your past wounds, but others will easily see this. It's possible that you feel ashamed for being vulnerable and believe you shouldn't show the cracks in your walls. You just want a sense of normalcy and to gain that you would rather have everyone believe things are fine when you are in fact, obviously wounded.

Lilith in the 11th House: With this placement you feel like an outsider, unwanted and unaccepted. You have faced rejection from groups and feel like you just don't fit in. You might even feel ashamed that you fail to fit in with the crowd even tho you desperately want to. However you should know that this is not your fault, but that of the very groups you try to be a part of. They fear your gifts, they are unsettled that you think and behave differently from what society has teached. Embrace you difference and in doing so you will learn to accept yourself and your position in the masses. Don't look elsewhere for acceptance, it will come when you stand in your own power.

Venus in Libra degrees (7°,19°) in my opinion would sort of amplify the effects of Venus as Libra is ruled by her. These degrees would bring Libra traits into the way you give and receive love. This means you could value loyalty and an equal amount of give and take in a relationship. Traits that you display or attract in love could be as follows: grace, sensuality, seduction, romanticism, harmony, balance, vanity, materialism and shallowness. Additionally you could be excessively needy and have unrealistic, almost idealistic expectations in love. I however view this as a minor influence and you should focus on the entirety of your Venus influences to get a bigger picture of that influence.

As a side note, I think you all should go take a look at @saintzjenx posts on degree theory and even her Lilith posts since she is pretty much an expert here 🙈🙈. I low-key think she might even be Lilith herself at this point.🙈

Moon Trine Lilith is such a powerful aspect. You are hell-bent on getting what you want as your desires are fueled by your emotions and instincts. You naturally listen to your intuition and follow it wherever it takes you. You are unapologetic about showing your vulnerability, sensitive sides, emotions and intuitive desires, even if taboo, and could be a real rebel in doing so. As a result the people in your life will see you as a symbol of strength and you won't hesitate to show said strength.

Sun Conjunct Pluto, light and dark collide with this aspect. And the result? An intensity on par with that of Scorpio Rising and Pluto in 1st. You could wield great power over others or be subject to power greater than your own. Your stong drive and ambition, your intense willpower is sure to leave a mark in the lives of the people touched by it, whether it be amazement or intimidation. You are naturally more attuned to the darker areas of life, unfazed by it. This along with your mysterious, darker presence and love of privacy could have people become suspicious of you and you might even face false accusations from others in your lifetime.

Lilith in the 11th House Synastry immediately made me think of a rebel and activist relationship. When you two direct your energies towards a cause the two could really compliment each other in that regard. On the flip side tho, the Lilith person wants freedom, independence and is always putting themselves first whereas the House person is continuously involved with the community which could give rise to conflicts in the relationship. Both would be extremely open to indulging and exploring the others sexual fantasies and desires, thus spicy time is always fun, exciting and exhilarating. Bluntly put, the sex is bomb and that's about it. A real fwb placement.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

This was very research intense so I hope I was able to deliver. To the followers that asked for this, I love you and thank you so much for trusting me to handle these. Let me know what you think and if I could do better. Love y'all my peoples.

King of Hearts

warnings: none

era: July 2021

❀ Lucas decides it’s time to take JiHo out for her first date

Leaned over the kitchen counter, rolling an orange from hand to hand, JiHo was deeply invested in the conversation she was having with her manager. Not Yebin, but her Esteem manager she was currently living with. The poor piece of fruit had suffered bruises from the few times the young girl had dropped it or tossed it too hard, but JiHo paid no mind as she listened to Sihyun – the manager – talk about the latest gossip in the model and acting industry. Yes, JiHo had the ‘privilege’, or whatever you wanted to call it, to get the insider-scoop about that industry before stuff got public, if it ever went public anyway.

Mid-conversation the two women heard the keypad of their front door beep, indicating that someone was trying to get inside. Usually this would concern the residents, definitely because they were the only ones living in the apartment, but Sihyun knew. She knew JiHo had practically given the password to their house to all her groupmates.

And even though Sihyun wasn’t initially comfortable with 23 men being able to walk inside her house at any given moment, she quickly came to terms with it when all the boys had been nothing but respectful of her privacy and 99% of the time would announce their arrival. The only times they did not announce it was during the early afternoon hours when they knew JiHo would be home alone, or on the occasional moment they would just forget. This time seemed like one of those moments.

“Hello princess!” A loud voice boomed through the apartment from the small corridor. Sihyun who stood on the other side of the counter had a clear visual of the surprise visitor and smiled watching his goofy stance. JiHo however didn’t need to take a look at him to know who the visitor was. “Took you long enough, how many days have you been in Korea already? And you hadn’t visited.” JiHo continued to play with the abused piece of fruit earning a scowl from Sihyun – she knew the girl wasn’t going to eat that orange afterwards and it would be headed straight for the bin.

Soon enough two long, strong arms slithered around the girl’s waist. “I’m sorry, but I’m here now.” JiHo felt her bar stool turn – it wasn’t even a swivel chair – until she was met with a bright smile. She couldn’t help herself but smile back, yet her smile quickly turned into a confused frown when she saw the bag in Lucas’ outstretched hand. “What’s this? A house warming gift? You know it’s a little late for that now.” Lucas just smiled as he shook his head. “We’re going on a date! Now go change.” He pushed the bag into JiHo’s lap.

The girl’s confused expression quickly turned into one of shock, while Sihyun just tried to contain her excited shrieks behind her hands. The 26 year old woman felt like she was watching some sort of K-drama and no one would blame her, since Lucas looked like a handsome main-lead with his hair styled back and wearing a nice pair of jeans along with a crisp looking white button up. Oh how Sihyun wished she could get him to agree to work under Esteem, but he was already successful enough getting modelling jobs without having to look for any. Every clothing brand and fashion magazine in Korea and China had their eyes on him already. Esteem had nothing more to offer to him.

“A date?” The boy – man might be a more appropriate title for him – nodded his head wildly, messing his hair up a bit in the meantime. “Why?” “Because I heard you’ve had a stressful time these past months and so I want you to relax. Plus! I missed you and I want to hang out.” JiHo’s face softened at the confession, but she couldn’t help but feel the nerves flutter in her stomach. “But we can hang out inside and just order some food or something-“ The feigned disappointed shake of Lucas’ head cut JiHo off mid-sentence. “Chenle told me you’ve been playing Valorant every day after your schedules, practise and recordings. It’s time for you to get your butt outside.” Before JiHo could protest a sigh from behind the kitchen counter caught their attention.

Sihyun’s eyes widened as she saw the two young idols look at her, but she quickly regained her composure. “I agree with Lucas. You seriously need to leave this house more.” “I have been! I literally went skateboarding all the time with Yangyang this month.” JiHo defended, yet Lucas faked a cough to grab her attention. “What?” “I’ve heard you haven’t went since that last time when you invited He-“ “Okay! I’ll get dressed, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” JiHo pushed herself of the chair and ran towards her room. Lucas and Sihyun both just smiled knowingly before engaging in a conversation together.

Dresses weren’t completely foreign territory for JiHo, she had worn a handful now for work and she was well aware that her taste in fashion had changed over the past few months. She now wasn’t completely opposed to wearing a dress casually, even though this had not yet happened so far. However, as she looked at the dress she felt her hands get a bit sweaty.

It wasn’t that the dress was ugly, or too revealing. Not at all. It was just that JiHo actually really liked it, she didn’t know how to react. Slipping the yellow fabric over her head, she noticed how the dress fit like a glove, as if it was made for her. It was a silly thought, but somehow JiHo felt like she was having her princess moment right now – which was fitting because this was all thanks to Lucas who liked to call her princess. For once JiHo felt super feminine in a comfortable way and she wouldn’t like to admit it, but she really loved the feeling.

JiHo quickly put on one of the necklaces Lucas had bought her months, maybe even years ago, did her makeup in record time – well the makeup really only consisted of mascara and a lip tint – and made sure her hair looked acceptable to go out. Once finished she walked back to Lucas who was still talking to Sihyun.

“Oh you look so cute!” Sihyun almost squealed causing JiHo to roll her eyes. “I’m ready to go.” The young girl said to catch Lucas attention. He turned his body so he could see JiHo standing beside him. It took a few seconds before Lucas could form the right words to say, taken aback by how different JiHo looked right then. “Wow~ You look even prettier right now.”

The bright smile and breathy words coming from Lucas didn’t fail to make JiHo flustered. She’d already gotten used to Lucas calling her ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ a lot of times and she knew that he meant it every time, but right now the words just seemed to register differently and catch her off guard.

An open hand “harshly” made contact with Lucas’ arm to which he winced. “Let’s just go.” JiHo mumbled going to the corridor where her shoes and bags were located.

Lucas couldn’t stop himself from helping to choose a bag and a pair of shoes for JiHo which he thought would fit best with her outfit. “Where are we even going?” She asked curiously after slipping on a pair of low, cream, sandal-like heels. “It’s a surprise, but we’re definitely getting some food as well and we won’t have to walk too much. So don’t worry.” He teased, but JiHo couldn’t help but smile. “You know me too well.”

To say that JiHo needed this “date” was an understatement; with how she was beaming and laughing nonstop, Lucas could’ve sworn that if JiHo was locked up in her apartment one more day she would’ve completely lost it. He could visibly see how the tension in JiHo’s muscles melted away. The twinkle her eyes held looked so innocent and childlike, as if she was experiencing things for the first time. And as the duo now sat across each other at a table in one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the area, Lucas couldn’t move his gaze from the everlasting smile on JiHo’s face boosting his pride.

“I didn’t know there was a butterfly garden in Seoul.” JiHo deeply exhaled, thinking back at how beautiful all the butterflies looked up close. “Did you like it?” Lucas asked, awaiting a positive answer. When JiHo’s eyes widened, Lucas started to get slightly worried, but the girl’s passionate answer quickly eased his nerves. “What do you think? I loved it! Every part. The butterfly garden, the café, and now this restaurant.” She then shoved the piece of steak that was on her fork into her mouth, not waiting until she had swallowed it she continued, “I think this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

A low chuckle left Lucas’ lips as he watched JiHo chew and swallow the rest of her food. “I should take you out more often then.” He smiled, mostly to himself, but JiHo perked up at his words. “Hm? Why?” Lucas looked up to meet JiHo’s eyes. “I mean, today was great, so yeah I’d definitely wouldn’t mind doing this again. But why would you want to?” “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this beautifully before.”

At his words JiHo couldn’t help but blush, the comment completely catching her of guard. She wondered how after those years of compliments Lucas managed to make her blush like that, but somehow, today, Lucas had found a way so that any- and everything he said or did would make her feel like a young teenage girl going on a date with her crush.

“You always try to be so professional and even if you have fun and play around sometimes, it’s like you’re always on your toes. Seeing you let go and genuinely be happy, being able to forget about your worries, it looks absolutely stunning on you JiHo.” JiHo looked down at her now empty plate before mumbling, “Did China turn you into a cheesy heartthrob or what’s up with you?” It was barely a question and definitely a coping mechanism – JiHo didn’t know how to react to Lucas sincerity – but Lucas was all for it, laughing at how adorable JiHo looked.

“What? Are you falling in love with me princess?” JiHo looked up with a gasp. “Don’t call me that in public! If someone hears you and recognises us, dating rumours are definitely going to spread and SM won’t be happy.” JiHo scolded, but Lucas could only laugh. She was clearly just trying to avoid the question because she was already very aware that Lucas rented out the whole rooftop for the two of them, no one would be able to hear them. And even if she did forget, with just one glance it would’ve been obvious it was only the two of them there, besides the 2 waiters who were enjoying their own conversation at the bar.

Once the duo had finished their dinner and after they continued talking for about 2 hours afterwards, they headed back to JiHo’s apartment. Luckily all the boys’ dorms weren’t too far away from the apartment, so Lucas wasn’t rushing to get her home or to leave after she arrived safely.

“You really didn’t have to walk all the way up here. You’re acting like we’re in some teenage chick flick.” JiHo smiled as she pushed in the code into her door’s keylock. With that Lucas leaned against the wall next to her – in the most cliché way – while sending her a smile of his own. “Do you not like it?” The keylock dinged at the correct input and JiHo began to push open the door with one hand, the other hand pushing at Lucas’ chest. “Careful or I’ll tell Yuta oppa about this and I don’t think he’d be too happy.” For a second Lucas smile faded as he felt the tiniest bit of fear arise at the though of his hyung’s possible reaction, but his smile returned just as quickly. “I’m sure he won’t after he sees all the pretty pictures I took of you today.”

Again JiHo felt her cheeks flare up just the slightest, but this time purely out of embarrassment. “Don’t show those pictures to anyone.” “But you looked pretty today. And it’s not as if the boys haven’t see you wearing a dress before.” JiHo just shook her head and sent him a warning glare. “But I don’t mind being the only one who’s allowed to see you look this pretty- Ouch! What was that for?” The boy held his arm where he just got pinched.  “For being annoying.”

A pout formed on Lucas’ lips but it quickly got wiped away once JiHo pulled him into a quick hug, making sure the front door didn’t fall back into the lock with her foot keeping it open. “Thanks for today. Thanks for being my prince and taking me out on my first date.” Normally JiHo would cringe at her own words, but somehow every ounce of shame was thrown out of the window now that she was around Lucas. “It really was your first date huh?” He smirked, cocking one brow. “Yeah yeah, now don’t go ‘bragging’ about it to the others, okay?” However Lucas just smirked again as he began making his way to the elevator. “No promises princess!” JiHo hushed him, but he was already inside the elevator, doors closing behind him. “Oh God, Doyoung, Yuta and Kun are all going to kill him.” She mumbled to herself walking into her apartment.

Just as the door closed behind her she heard her phone vibrate. And then vibrate again. Until it just became one constant buzz. Looking at her phone she saw the notifications of the NCT group chat along with the words ‘Lucas and JiHo’ as well as ‘date’ and ‘princess’. Shaking her head in disbelief and deciding to ignore the messages until tomorrow, JiHo mumbled to herself again. “At least if I don’t get to him and kill him first.”

---

Side Note: The only reason that this writing is called ‘King of Hearts’ is for me to tell you that you should listen to that song. Winwin’s vocals 👌 Yangyang’s last verse 👌 Hendery during that live performance of this song in Bangkok (he’s so hot and talented, please stan him)👌 How this song was literally made for Lucas 👌 Yes I’ve listened to it 10+ times on repeat one day and I’d gladly do it again!

Also someone tell me to stop posting every other day, why am I doing this to myself also me feeling writing/creative withdrawal when I don’t post😅 

Have a nice day/evening/night loves 🤍💚🤍

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Seven)

Chapter Seven: Sweet Fulfilment

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The silence that fell upon them in Rossi’s backyard was so heavy, no one dared to break it. Derek was brave enough to stand and follow Y/N into the house, most likely to drive her home. The rest received the message and began to dwindle away, until only Ashley and Spencer were left.

Spencer absentmindedly fiddled with the top of his cane, still stunned into silence from Y/N’s heavy confession. He could feel Ashley’s eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking at her. His mind was racing ten times faster than it ever had before.

Ashley breathed out a sigh and kept it simple and straightforward, “Do you love her?” She asked softly. 

He wished to hear some malice in her tone, thinking it might make him feel something other than shock, but all he heard was curiosity. He didn’t even have to think to find the answer, but which answer was he willing to give?

“Yes.” He said, not even having the audacity to see the reaction it brought upon her eyes. 

He should have felt horrible for hurting Ashley, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel anything but relief as he replayed Y/N’s words in his head. He heard her move to stand up and remained motionless as she left him on the couch. She went inside and Spencer deduced that she’d probably already taken her car and returned home. He’d have to find a different ride home but that was the least of his problems right now.

No one knew what to tell him as he passed them in the spacious living room a half hour later. No one knew where to start with him, but their unrelated hushed conversations continued on. Y/N had stupefied them all, but him especially. His heart should have been soaring because of her confession, but he knew he’d have to give Ashley a proper goodbye. She deserved one, even though he had quite literally used her in the most ungentlemanly of ways. He hadn’t let themselves get too invested in the relationship, though. He’d always kept her at arm’s length for fear of getting too attached. 

The next day, he’d promptly gone to her apartment and given a heartfelt apology. She’d let him know how hurt she was and that she was not going to be returning to the BAU. He still felt bad, but once again, he felt like he could breathe. Like the air knew its way back to his lungs. 

The weekend came and went, silence on both ends. Both lovers just stewing in their own pots. Both pots teeming with unadulterated, unconditional love and affection for one another. It could barely be contained at this point. Time seemed to float by and before they knew it they were back in the office. A new month had just begun. She felt new, she felt like she’d peeled off a layer of her skin, one that had been holding her back, trapping her within the confines of herself.

With the new month, she was called in early to have the routine monthly meeting with Hotch where they went over the itinerary of the next month. They liked to plan whatever they could given that half of the BAU’s job was unpredictable.

“So, I have here the form that Strauss asked for. Also, the 6th floor’s printer is a literal piece of junk and I’ve typed up a formal proposal so that maybe we could get a new one? I coordinated with Penelope about the funds and she says there are sufficient funds for a new printer.” Y/N said, handing Hotch a typed document. 

Even after all these years, her dedication to this job continues to blow him away. He’d come to see her as a work-daughter. He has taught her so much over the past few years and he’ll always have a special place in her heart. He nodded, glancing over the document.

“Great, I trust you and Penelope will pick an adequate printer.” He paused, sending her a smile. He noticed the slight glimmer in her eye, “I know you’ve been having a rough few months, Y/N, and it’s not technically my place to get involved in your personal life, as your boss, but as your friend, I hope you know that I am available to help you in any way I possibly can.”

Her whole face formed into a fond smile, “Thanks, Hotch and yes, I know.” She chuckled slightly.

“You are a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. If you ask me--” He was interrupted by his office door slamming open, showcasing an absolutely beaming Dr. Spencer Reid in the doorway.

“Hotch, I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Spencer’s eyes flew from Hotch to Y/N, his attention now zeroed in on her. He leaned into the office, not fully entering, “are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked in a rushed manner, as if not getting a fast answer would somehow make him lose all the confidence he’d mustered up.

“M-me? Yes! I mean, yes, I’m free tonight.” Y/N answered, flustered at the interruption as well as the question. Spencer’s face split into a grin and he tapped the doorframe once awkwardly.

“Great, then...it’s a date.” He raised his brows and tried to lessen his grin as he snuck a glance at Hotch before gracelessly forming his lips into a line and scurrying out of the small office.

Y/N turned back to Hotch quickly with eyes widened with disbelief and a face totally failing to contain the utter joy she felt, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Hotch only responded with a knowing smile at the precious interaction he’d just witnessed firsthand.

First dates were supposed to be awkward, however, their first date was anything but. Spencer had showed up with a fresh haircut, his shoulder length hair cut into a dreamy, swoopy style that sat along his forehead comfortably. It was so much more attractive than Y/N could outwardly-or inwardly- admit. His knee was now fully healed and no longer needed his cane which allowed them to walk around the city freely.

They’d both realized how stupid and blind they’ve been over the years. Y/N confessed to feeling especially stupid for staying with Anderson for so long, even when she had realized her true feelings for Spencer. Time had passed them by like it was nothing. 

Spencer, like the true gentleman he is, insisted he’d walk her home. He’d feel more comfortable knowing she was safe, not to mention that he was extremely curious about her new apartment. He hadn’t expected Y/N to invite him in, but of course she did, because that was who she was. She was warm and inviting, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want the night to end yet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I haven’t really been in the right headspace these past few weeks.” She said, walking him inside. He took a look around and noticed a few unpacked boxes out of place but he definitely wouldn’t characterize it as messy. 

He chuckled softly and shrugged, “Trust me, it’s fine.” Her shoulders dropped with relief slightly and she returned his lightheartedness by smiling and flopping onto the couch.

“It’s been so long since I’ve lived on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the silence.” Y/N said, but only realized how sad it must have sounded after she said it. Spencer took a seat next to her on her small, but comfortable couch.

“I feel quite the opposite, I think I’ve been living on my own for--for a long time.” He said, thinking back to his days but pushing away the especially dark parts. 

She dared to glance at him, seeing him in her space was so...different. So refreshing. It’s like this apartment needed Spencer in it for it to feel complete. Or maybe that was her heart speaking. Maybe both the apartment and her heart needed Spencer to feel whole. Her glance had long been forgotten and had turned into a longing gaze instead.

“Spencer, I-” She gazed at him, feeling the words get caught up in her throat before she could have had the chance to voice them. Besides, what words would ever be able to convey the way she felt towards him? 

Words escaped her when he looked at her like that--all soft eyes and a fond, lopsided smile, despite his curiosity at her interrupted sentence. She made the mistake of glancing at his lips, the lips that were so appealing, practically calling her name. The ones she’d caught herself daydreaming about for years and years on end. His proximity was intoxicating and before she could doubt herself, she closed the gap between them, her hands attaching themselves to the lapels of his blazer to pull him ever so slightly closer.

His lips were just as warm and inviting as she’d remembered them, but this time the kiss tasted sweeter, it was no longer tainted with suppressed guilt and confusion. His lips tasted like certainty. It was clear that she’d finally found what she’d been missing all these years. The gentle push and pull of the kiss was invigorating to them both. His slightly calloused hands found her flushed cheeks, each thumb delicately caressing the delicate skin beneath the pads of his fingers. They’d savored the kiss so much that when they pulled away, two, three, four tender, short kisses followed the initial one.

Almost as if they’d never get enough of each other. Like if the world was ending, it wouldn’t matter, they’d go peacefully, knowing that this is what it was like. That this is what quenched thirst felt like.

“I love you.” She murmured against his lips, breath uneven. She’d known it for as long as she could remember and he’d known it too, but she was past the point of timidness to admit it now. There’s no use in prolonging it, not when she was this certain. 

The pad of his thumb traced a line across her jaw slowly as he heard the words. His face couldn’t contain his smile, teeth almost clashing into each other from their closeness. His warm, amber eyes flitted to hers, visible comfort and reassurance filling his irises. He was transported back to Rossi’s garden when he’d first told her he loved her. She knew, she knew he loved her too, which is why it was so easy.

“I love you, too.” He murmured back, pressing another passionate kiss to her lips, as a quiet admission of love. She could feel the tears gather underneath her closed lids almost as quickly as relief flooded her chest.

They’d decided to keep things under the radar for a while, neither of them too eager to showcase their relationship to the world just yet, excluding Hotch of course. They did their best anyway--or at least they thought they did. Their recent smiley faces and cheery attitudes were not invisible to America’s top profilers and well, Penelope, who was perhaps the sharpest of them all, despite not being trained to analyze behavior like the others.

Exactly two weeks after their first date, Penelope cornered Y/N at her desk around lunchtime, right before the two lovebirds took their daily lunch walk. 

“Spill.” Penelope demanded, her colorful teapot earrings swayed, contradicting the sternness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N gazed up at her with genuine confusion.

“Uh-uh, don’t give me that. I know something fishy is going on. I can smell it.” Penelope leaned in closer and began pointing fingers. Y/N barked a laugh.

“Garcia, nothing is going on. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” She laughed, amused at the sight of her friend being so outwardly nosey.

“You think I haven’t noticed you and Boy Wonder--” She was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat noise from Spencer to announce his presence.

“Garcia, Derek said something about making hot chocolate in the kitchenette and you know how he dips the sugar spoon back into the chocolate mix? Yeah, you should probably--” Spencer lied through his teeth but Penelope wasted no time in rushing off to the kitchenette, groaning about how she hated finding extra sugar in the chocolate.

Spencer caught Y/N’s eye and they both burst out laughing. They quickly made their exit, whispering about how close of a call it was with Garcia. Little did they know, Rossi had caught every little bit of the very tender, intimate kiss they shared before the doors of the empty elevator had closed, leaving him shaking his head at the obliviousness of the two. 

The team decided to make a game out of it very quickly when they all realized. They wanted to see which of them could expose the couple the quickest.

 JJ found extreme joy in trying to set Y/N up with one of Will’s friends right in front of Spencer.

“Come on! This guy’s totally your type, Y/N.” JJ pushed, showing her a picture of a man on her phone, leaning towards her over the top of her desk. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and glanced with panic at Spencer who was watching curiously.

“I don’t know, I d-don’t think I have a type, JJ.” She tried to brush her off, continuing to laugh in discomfort. Emily and Derek almost split their lips as they bit them to try and keep from laughing. They watched Spencer shift nervously in his seat.

“I’m just not interested.” Y/N said, “Thanks, though.” JJ finally gave in and accepted that she’d lost the bet.

Emily tried her hand at “girl-talk”, hoping that maybe Y/N would slip up and tell her about Spencer, but to no avail. That woman’s lips were sealed shut.

Derek and Penelope both tried to follow them around but Spencer and Y/N were far too cautious at work now. Derek actually had to convince Penelope to take the moral high road and refrain from tracking their devices or hacking into their messages.

After trying and failing for so long, the team finally gave up on trying to rat them out and instead decided to respectfully wait for their announcement. 

Y/N realized that she hadn’t technically invited anyone over to her new apartment and decided to throw a somewhat delayed “welcoming party” for herself. She’d cooked dinner, which Spencer did his best to contribute to, decorated the place nicely, and invited the whole team over.

“Thank you all so much for being here. I know this has been a long time coming. I’ve missed our little get-togethers and thought it’d be fitting if I finally host one, given that I now have my own apartment.” Y/N spoke from her place at the head of the dinner table which had barely ever been used before this night. It was a tight squeeze, but her heart soared as she saw the faces of her caring coworkers and friends staring up at her. They all lifted their glasses and gave her a silent toast of appreciation.

Spencer stood from his seat that was to the right of Y/N’s and cleared his throat, “Also, we have an announcement to make.” He timidly began, catching the eager smiles. “Y/N and I are, finally, together.” He waited for the cheers of excitement but nothing but an eerie knowing silence befell the dinner table.

Something clicked in Y/N’s brain as she spotted Rossi handing Hotch something under the table not-so-discreetly, “You all knew?!” She gasped in disbelief. The team broke out into fits of laughter.

“The whole time!” Garcia guffawed. Spencer and Y/N shared a look of incredulity before breaking into laughter themselves. Y/N shyly hid her face in Spencer’s shoulder as he wrapped an affectionate arm around her back.

“You guys thought you were so sneaky.” Derek threw his head back, laughing.

“Wait, so what was all that about?” Y/N asked, referring to Rossi handing Hotch something, “You guys had a bet going?”

“Technically there were two bets going. Everyone else was determined to expose you, which they all failed at, thankfully, while Rossi and I had a separate bet. I said that you’d announce it first and Rossi apparently had more faith in the team.” Hotch explained, smirking triumphantly at Rossi, who appeared delighted despite having lost the bet.

“Bet or not, you two deserve each other. I’m glad you two are happy together. To the lovely couple.” Rossi raised his glass and everyone followed in pursuit.

Spencer turned to Y/N to place a sweet but chaste kiss on her lips, leading everyone to cheer in response.

There was little he could compare to the feeling he had then, but if he had to, he’d compare it to being whole.

previous chapter/epilogue

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Miles Between Us Chapter 15 ~Etched On Wood~

Previously in The Element of Surprise

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed. 

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?" 

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

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  Claire stood in the quaint wonderland of whisky, gin and assorted spirits, also known as The Island Spirit Whisky Shop. One side of the store was given over to the whiskies, while numerous craft gins and spiced rums were on the other. Absently, she touched one of the bottles of liquid gold, mentally calculating how many bottles she could fit in her small luggage to bring back as presents. When she heard laughter, she glanced up to find Annalise sampling a dram with the owner, effectively ending her dithering and opting to grab just a bottle of single malt in front of her instead. They'd just arrived in Stornaway over an hour ago and decided to put her gift shopping spree on hold .

Annalise raised a whisky glass and winked. "You better start getting busy. Our driver isn't going to hang around and wait for us all day. Found anything you like?"

Claire approached her friend and showed the bottle. "Aberfeldy, sixteen years old. For us tonight."

"Very nice. Glad to see you warming up to this trip for a change. How long has it been since you last checked your phone for Jamie's message?" 

"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."

"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"

Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."

"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."

"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon. 

Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.

She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?" 

"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."

"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.

"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day." 

Annalise's eyes widened. 

She frowned. "Wot?"

"Babies?"

"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."

"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"

Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"

"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."

"It's wot?"

"I, ah ...the babies part."

"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"

"There's no fret!"

"What is it then?"

"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."

"Tell me wot?"

"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."

"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."

Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."

Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"

"Claire ..."

"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time. 

Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."

"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."

"You started it."

Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."

"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."

Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."

Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"

She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?" 

Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"

"No, knock it bloody off!"

..........

Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.

"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse." 

"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."

Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."

Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."

"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.

"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."

"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.  

"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."

"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."

"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."

Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."

"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"

Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."

"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"

"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."

Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.

Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."

Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.

"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."

Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses." 

Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"

"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."

"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."

Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."

Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."

Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man? 

Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"

"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.

Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."

Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.

Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden. 

Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"

"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings. 

The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.

When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."

Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"

Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."

"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know." 

"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."

Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.

"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."

"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."

"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"

He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "

"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.

What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."

Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."

Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."

Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."

Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."

"Is that so?"

Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."

Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"

"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."

"Perfect time for?"

Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."

"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"

"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."

"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."

"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"

"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."

"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"

Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing." 

Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping." 

That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."

A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.

When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"

..........

"Òran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."

"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front. 

"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days." 

Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."

"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"

They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away. 

"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.

Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."

Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."

She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.

Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.

Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin. 

"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"

His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"

Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here." 

He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.

"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"

Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"

She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."

"How so?"

"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."

"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.

"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."

Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.

 Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.

 A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."

"Aye."

"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."

"Ye want to hear the best part?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."

"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."

She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say." 

"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."

"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.

"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."

"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"

"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."

"We could have flown here together."

"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to. 

"Such as?"

He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."

She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."

"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.

She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."

Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."

Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.

 Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.

 She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."

"Yer da wrote it."

She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."

Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"

"Apparently," he grinned.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"

"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."

She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."

"So ...what is the book about?"

Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.

 There once was a unicorn

That fell for a lioness. 

She surprised him with her charm,

And her comeliness.

 She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best." 

She licked her lips and continued reading.

 The two, you see, 

Were from different worlds 

So it made him wonder, 

How'd it all unfurled?

 "Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."

Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.

 In spite of their differences, 

It was love at first sight. 

Their feelings grew quickly, 

Their hearts took to flight.

 She smiled and turned to the next page.

 The unicorn, his life, 

Once troubled and scattered 

Now calmed and on the mend

In all ways, that matter.

 She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."

"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.

She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.

 There were simply no words 

For how lucky he'd become. 

Without her by his side 

Life would be hopelessly glum.

 She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath. 

"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."

Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand. 

 It's hard to believe 

Just how happy they were. 

He could not conceive 

Even one day without her.

 "Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard. 

"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.

Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.

"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?

"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.

At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.

"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.

On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life." 

Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."

"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."

"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."

"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."

"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.

"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."

She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that. 

When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand. 

Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"

Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.

"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."

"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."

He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."

Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."

"Why?"

"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."

They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."

Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...

A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels. 

"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"

"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."

"Bushwhacked?"

"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.

"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants. 

Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.

Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it." 

Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"

"Which one?"

"Babies. Hello?"

Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."

Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."

"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."

Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.

"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee bràthair doesnae mess about, does he?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."

Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.

Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie. 

"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.

"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"

"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.

Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.

"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."

"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.

Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."

"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.

"I'll try and keep up. Explain."

Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."

Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.

When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you." 

Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief. 

Jamie just shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."

Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."

Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."

"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"

"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"

"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."

Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"

With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving." 

"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.

Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes. 

Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.

Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.

"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.

"To your happiness," Annalise added.

"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.

"To what's next," Claire breathed.

"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."

..........

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"

Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.

"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.

"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"

"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.

"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."

Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"

"Aye."

"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"

"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.

"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"

Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me." 

Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?" 

"Aye." 

They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.

"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."

Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."

"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."

Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"

Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.

Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."

"Deal."

..........

Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.

Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.

As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll start from where you left off."

"Alright."

Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 Claire giggled. "You got me right there."

"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."

 Confused and bewildered

That it's not a ring

It became apparent

She wanted the real thing

  So still on his one knee 

He uttered the plea: 

"My dearest lioness, 

Will you marry me?"

  He felt his heart beating 

Right out of his chest. 

He could do nothing but wait 

And hope she'd say YES.

 When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."

"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."

Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.

After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.

 When she finally answered 

He could not stop grinning 

Because he knew, in his heart, 

This was just The Beginning!

 Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.

"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?" 

"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet." 

Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her." 

She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged. 

He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.

Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here. 

Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X

 PS I will compile a Masterlist for WONDERWALL and post it on my Tumblr site, either tomorrow or in the next few days, depending on how I feel.

Real Life Stories of Fathers by GMB Akash, a Bangladesh Photojournalist

Yesterday, I was able to buy a new dress for my daughter after two years. While I handed sixty pieces of five taka note to the seller, he yelled at me by asking if I am a beggar. My daughter held my hand and cried to leave the shop by saying that she did not want to buy any dress. I wept off her tears with one hand. Yes, I am a beggar. Ten years ago I had never thought in my nightmares that I have to live by begging from people. The night coach fell from the bridge and unbelievably I was alive. I was alive by becoming a disable. My youngest son often ask me where I left my other hand.  And my daughter Sumaiya feed me every day by saying she knows how difficult it is to do all work with one hand.

After two years my daughter is wearing a new dress, that’s why today I brought her with me to play for some time. Maybe I will not be able to earn anything today, but I wanted to roam around with my little girl. I secretly borrowed this mobile phone from my neighbor without informing my wife. My daughter has no picture and I want to make this day memorable for her. When one day I will have a phone I will take a lot of pictures of my children. I want to keep good memories._MD. Kawsar Hossain

I found out my daughter had an affair with a boy for five years. She never spoke about it as she is always afraid of me. Apart of it I assumed my children always hate me for the job I am doing since my childhood. I asked her to bring the boy and his family in our house. I decorated the house like a new bride and brought the best food for them. I have been saving for my daughter’s marriage for twenty years. That day my daughter was happiest than ever. When they started conversation they brought out a note of demand. They wanted all material things a family needs, I was calculating and nodded in agreement with every word they said. After all it’s about happiness of my daughter. The last point was they do not want me to introduce in front of their relatives and I should never go to visit my daughter. The moment they said it my daughter screamed in anger and by surprising all she slapped the boy. She angrily said, ‘My father can do the thing that no one can do. Not everyone can clean others mess. I am proud of what he does and if you do not leave my house in a minute I will beat you all.’ She broke the marriage proposal and ended her five years relationship in a second. From that day I know how fortunate and happy person I am.’ – Sweeper Monu lal

I never told my children what my job was. I never wanted them to feel ashamed because of me. When my youngest daughter asked me what I did, I used to tell her hesitantly that I was a labourer. Before I went back home every day, I used to take bath in public toilets so they did not get any hint of the work I was doing. I wanted to send my daughters to school, to educate them. I wanted them to stand in front of people with dignity. I never wanted anyone to look down upon them like how everyone did to me. People always humiliated me. I invested every penny of my earnings for my daughters’ education. I never bought a new shirt, instead used the money for buying books for them. Respect, which is all I wanted them to earn for me. I was a cleaner. The day before the last date of my daughter’s college admission, I could not manage to get her admission fees. I could not work that day. I was sitting beside the rubbish, trying hard to hide my tears. All my coworkers were looking at me but no one came to speak to me. I had failed and felt heartbroken. I had no idea how to face my daughter who would ask me about the admission fees once I got back home. I am born poor. I believed nothing good can happen to a poor person. After work all the cleaners came to me, sat beside and asked if I considered them as brothers. Before I could answer, they handed me their one day’s income. When I tried to refuse everyone; they confronted by saying, ‘We will starve today if needed but our daughter has to go to college.’ I couldn’t reply them. That day I did not take a shower, I went back to my house like a cleaner. My daughter is going to finish her University very soon. Three of them do not let me go to work anymore. She has a part time job and three of them do tuition. But often she takes me to my working place. Feed all my coworkers along with me. They laugh and ask her why she feeds them so often. My daughter told them, ‘All of you starved for me that day so I can become what I am today, pray for me that I can feed you all, every day.’ Nowadays I don’t feel like I am a poor man. Whoever has such children, how he can be poor!  – Idris

A Father, A Hero by GMB Akash

------

I believe that the ultimate goal of human life is to be happy. Not all people can be rich but there should be a basic well-being to protect human dignity. I hope all governments do work to promote the genuine welfare for their people in every social class. 

The other night best friend and I (yes, that best friend) were riffing on trans Neil headcanons over the phone, but a realistic trans treatment of aftg gets dark real fast, so without further ado:

~The Mafia May Be Sexist (But It’s Not Transphobic!) AU ~

(tmmbsbintau, if you will)

Does this premise make sense? No, but if Nora can write about made up mafia sports, I can write a nonsense AU where transphobia doesn’t exist okay this is my party and ill be self-indulgent if i want to

We open with baby Neil, who was named after his maternal grandmother or smthg idk

Now lets say Neil is one of those “I always knew I was trans” kids

So even at a fairly young age he was like, nope this is wrong

For the most part his dad basically ignores him (what use is a girl to me???) but if he makes the mistake of getting in the way it’s the usual shit with knives and hot irons and basically Neil’s bog-standard Traumatic Childhood

His mom signs him up to play Exy to get him out of the house, and he loves it, because of course he does

Now tiny Neil may be terrified of his father

But remember transphobia isn’t real

So he when he’s about ten years old he tells his parents over dinner

His mom just puts her fork down and says that’s alright

But Nathan

Nathan

Nathan’s eyes start to glow

He has a son? Not a useless daughter?

He’s practically levitating with glee

And Neil, poor Neil, who has never had any positive reinforcement—from either parent, Mary, you’re not innocent in this—he soaks it up

Nathan puts both hands on his son’s—his son’s!—shoulders and dubs him Nathaniel

His son, his heir, his legacy

Mary takes one look at the possessive look in her husband’s eyes and thinks oh hell no

For the next few days Nathan absolutely showers Nathaniel with affection

He takes him to the hairdresser and buys him a whole new wardrobe, neglecting his mafia duties in order to dote upon his new son

It is possibly the happiest week of Nathaniel’s life

And then he wakes up in the night with his mother’s hand on his mouth and is given less than a minute to pack his things

Now he’s grown up in a criminal household; the notion of making a run for it isn’t exactly foreign to him

But it’s not until they’re in the car that Nathaniel realizes that his father is nowhere to be seen

Where’s dad? He asks

Shut up, his mother hisses, and slams the car into gear

From then on, he is never Nathaniel

His mother is 100% on board with his transition, but…not really anything beyond that

After all, people will be looking for a woman and a trans boy, which means Mary’s investment in Neil’s gender pretty much starts and ends with him passing as cis

She gets him all the medical treatments he needs (on the black market, since they’re on the run)—puberty blockers when he’s younger, testosterone when he’s older

But he’s never allowed to acknowledge being trans whatsoever

Not to his classmates, not to his teachers

He never gets the chance to have a queer community, or explore the nuances of his gender, because the only presentation they can afford for him to have is Masculine Cis Boy. The restriction is stifling. It’s suffocating.

Neil hates her for it

His life was, so briefly, perfect

He had his father’s love and approval for a day, a week, and he is both old enough to remember his father’s cruelty and young enough to believe that it could end

Nathan is incandescent

When he realizes what Mary has done he goes to the Moriyamas in a storm of fury

She stole my SON! He bellows

Now the Moriyama’s didn’t particularly care about Neil back when they thought he was a girl

Girls in the mafia are basically just for child-rearing, so he wasn’t a threat

So once they figure out what Nathan is talking about (this takes a sec, owing to Nathan having not previously gotten around to telling them about Nathaniel’s revelation), their first thought is that look, we might do the nepotism thing here in our family, but underlings don’t get to do the nepotism thing. Sorry, them’s the breaks

Obviously, Mary has to die—nobody’s disputing that, a woman who robbed her husband and stole his son? Only death will right that wrong—but Kengo tells Nathan that he’ll help find Nathaniel on the condition that he’s given to the Ravens upon capture

Nathan is utterly confident that his son—his son!—will perform admirably. He accepts the deal without a second thought

So they’re on the run for years and years, and Neil’s resentment towards his mother festers, but he never acts out too much, and he doesn’t contact his father

He almost does a couple times, but then he presses his hand to the iron scar on his shoulder and he can’t quite make himself go through with it

He’s sixteen when Nathan catches up with them in Seattle

There’s a shootout and Mary and Neil almost get away

But

Nathan arrives

Nathaniel! He shouts. My boy!

And Neil lurches to a stop

There is his father, walking towards him, his eyes still shining with the same fierce love and pride from when he was ten

Nathaniel, his father says. Hasn’t this gone on long enough?

Come home.

Mary is trying to drag Neil away, but he’s too fixated on his father

Can I? Neil asks. Can I really?

Of course, Nathan says. Everything is forgiven. I’ve even secured you a place on the Ravens. Didn’t you always love Exy? Come home with me, Nathaniel

Neil can barely believe it. His father is offering him everything he ever wanted. His mother has been keeping him from this, his whole life?

Why would they run?

And through this whole exchange Nathan has been getting closer, and Mary is pulling Neil back, and now he’s close enough to touch and the sound she makes is like something physical tears when she finally releases Neil and tries to flee

She isn’t fast enough

Nathan’s grin is as wide as the sun when his cleaver bites into Mary’s waist

Blood pours out

Neil screams

Mary clutches her side, staggering away, but it’s obvious she won’t make it far

Dad, no, Neil says. Don’t—

Shh, his father says. Don’t be afraid. She kept us apart all these years. She deserves to die.

And Neil—

Neil has hated his mother for most of his life

But he looks at the woman who has struggled so long to protect him—who has failed as often as she succeeded, but who fought anyway, everyday—and the man whose eyes are bright with glee at her pain

And he makes a choice

He only has a split second to see the betrayal in his father’s eyes before the pipe in his hand slams into his head and he pitches forward, unconscious

Neil does not wait to see if he survives

He grabs his mother and they run, her arm locked on his shoulder and her palm pressed to the wound on her side

Neil puts her in the passenger seat and jumps in, throwing the car in gear

You need a hospital, he says, frantic

No, she hisses, pinning a towel to her side. No hospitals

Guilt floods through him as he looks at her pale face

Sticky red handprints smear on everything she touches

I’m sorry, mom, he says, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—

Enough, she says. Drive

He drives

He drives, and drives, and he follows her instructions, and later he wouldn’t have been able to say if he actually thought she would survive; he believed it, because he had to, because he had never been without her; he knew better, because gut wounds are slow, but they are inexorable

He parks on the beach and there are tears pushing at his eyelids but he chokes them down

I’m sorry, he said, I never should have believed him. I’m sorry—

You never would have been enough for him, she says, and Neil flinches

Her hand finds his chin and she yanks him down to meet her eyes, her gaze fierce.

He never loved you, she says. He would have made you in his image, and when you failed he would have torn you apart. I would not—I would not watch him try to make my son a monster. Don’t—don’t waste it

Mom, what are you saying—

Promise me, she says

Promise you won’t go back to him

She is dying

Neil can’t refuse

He promises

She releases his face and her red fingerprints on his face burn like brands. He can feel them hours after the tears wash the blood away.

Her last few breaths are jagged as broken stones before she rattles to a stop, and Neil is alone

He burns her body and staggers out onto the road and he keeps moving, he keeps moving, because he knows if he stops he’ll shatter

His hesitation has cost him his mother’s life

But his action costs him his fathers love

In one blow, Neil broke the golden image Nathan had of his perfect son, and now all Nathan wants is to destroy him

He finds his way to Millport almost on instinct alone

He finds one of Mary’s contacts who can supply him with the hormones he needs to continue passing and squats in an empty house and speaks to none of his classmates

When the Exy team tryouts are announced, he goes, intending to only watch from a distance

Perhaps it is inevitable he’s sucked in

There is so little light in his life

Can he be forgiven for wanting one little spark?

The Foxes come for him in May, and Kevin doesn’t recognize him, because how would he? Even if they met as kids, Kevin never saw Neil post-transition

Wymack ends up telling him something about Kevin’s past and the truth about the Ravens, and Neil pales a little bit, remembering how his father had said he’d gotten Neil a place on their line-up and finally understanding why

And sometimes he looks at Kevin with blinding jealousy for the life Neil didn’t get to have, and sometimes he sees him nearly comatose with fear and drinking vodka like it’s water, and his stomach hurts thinking how cheerfully his father would have consigned him to the same fate

So canon proceeds and Neil still bitches Riko out on live TV, and Riko still manages to acquire Neil’s fingerprints

And would you believe that? The Foxes mouthy new rookie is [deadname], Nathan Wesninski’s brat?

Well, well, well

At the banquet Riko pokes and prods until Neil finally snaps, and as Dan drags the team away from the wreckage Jean grabs Neil’s arm and says, low and fast in French, You’ll meet with us later

Why the fuck would I do that? Neil demands

Because otherwise everyone will find out that the Butcher is your father

Neil can’t hide his flinch and Kevin’s eyes go wide

They flee the scene, but before they even reach Coach, Kevin is already rounding on Neil

Is it true? He croaks

Not now, Neil says

But Kevin reads confirmation in Neil’s deflection

I didn’t know [deadname] had a brother, he says

Now here is the thing

Names are obviously a touchy subject with a lot of trans people, and certainly with Neil in particular

But with everything that just happened, Neil is a bit preoccupied, and it’s been a long time since he’s associated himself with that name

Since before he stopped using it, truthfully

And so his response is out of his mouth before he can even think twice

“Who?”

Kevin nods seriously, because he is wise to the ways of mafia bosses, and it’s not exactly shocking that Nathan Wesninski had a mistress and a secret second child, especially considering his first child had been a girl

It’s several moments before Neil puts two and two together and realizes that he has inadvertently slipped through a perfect loophole

He’s failed his mother so many times, but at least this secret is still safe, and he clings to that

Neil’s gender doesn’t really affect his interpersonal relationships with the Foxes—he’s already changing out separately, so this isn’t even a whole other thing

It’s harder to hide his testosterone when he’s living in shared dorms, but he has everything in the safe and figures out the safest schedule to open it up when he’s sure Matt will be in class

Andrew finds out when they start hooking up

But remember transphobia isn’t real so it’s sort of more like Andrew goes to undo his pants and is like wait your dick is removeable? Okay.

And then he just gets on with it

So Binghamton and Baltimore happen as canon, and if Neil had ever harboured hopes that his father would forgive him and love him again, they’re broken for good when his father stalks in and sees him shivering and just grins

It is the smile of someone who has torn someone off a pedestal and is going to enjoy reducing them to dust

Nevermind that Nathan had been the one to put him on that pedestal in the first place

Stuart deus-ex-machinas us out of the maws of death and we end up back in that classic Baltimore scene with the Foxes, and they still claim him, and they still take him home

He tells them all about his mafia father and life on the run, and it doesn’t really click until later that he forgot to mention the trans thing

Not like he, you know, has to tell them, and being trans is hardly an issue in Exy since it’s co-ed, but it would probably be nice to see a real doctor instead of keep buying his hormones illegally

And moreover, he wants the Foxes to know him

So they hit the cabin in the mountains and everyone knows Neil doesn’t drink, but when Andrew pours him a shot, he takes it

Ooh, Nicky says, Is Neil about to start spilling his secrets?

Allison snorts. What secrets does he have left?

Uh, Neil says

Wait, Allison says. There’s more secrets????

Yeah, he says. Um, I’m trans

There’s a pause

Well, that’s no good, Allison said. We didn’t have a bet going on that

Everyone laughs, and Neil smiles, and he looks at the sunset and remembers his mother, and he remembers a life filled with hiding, and secrets, and loneliness

Bats swoop in the twilight beyond the cabin, and he turns towards the warmth and light inside, and he does not look back

The Damn Bet.

(Fred Weasley x Reader)

It was a fucking bet that started this whole ordeal. Not a bet of romance but of words. You had this argument with Fred, claiming that he was an "insolent fool" and had the IQ of a small child after yet another prank on your house which was Slytherin. Well he took that as a challenge and asked "Alright Love, what will make you think that I'm smart? If you're going to be so cocky about this." So you formed a bet. A bet that would come back to bite you in the ass.

"Alright. You want to play this game?" You snapped. "I definitely do if it means you'll be less grouchy around me!" Fred sighed. "Speak elegantly and with poise for the next week." You said. "That's it? Fuck, I'll do that for a damn month." "You're on Weasley!" You said. "When does this start!?" He asked. "Right now!" You said.

And so Fred wouldn't shut the fuck up around you. You expected him to fail almost immediately but he didn't. He actually was doing great! Too great.... He wouldn't turn it off either, everytime he opened his mouth it was almost old English sounding. Nothing would ever be quite as surprising as that first conversation you had with him during the bet.

"Good evening Fred." You greeted as he sat down in the library. "Good evening Y/n, does the library sooth you or is there any particular reason you appear to be relaxed?" Fred asked you making you look up. Shit. Don't tell me he actually can keep this up. "Literature soothes me." You said leaning up. "I cannot say it provides me that same sensation. I'm less of a reader, more of a speaker." He told you. Oh shit. He could keep up.

So you would talk to him more and more, hoping he'd fuck up. Instead he actually got better, quicker with his responses. You started getting frustrated, waiting for a moment when he'd break but there was nothing! No breaks in his speech, no moments where he stuttered, nothing. What was even more frustrating.... Was that you were beginning to like him.

Not this intelligent side to him no, though that was very compelling. But you almost smiled everytime the boy left you speechless. You almost showed happiness when he'd make you stumble over your words and he would practically skip away with joy. You were becoming frustrated with yourself for liking him. For God's sake... You were supposed to hate him.

"What's going on in that mind of yours Y/n?" Fred asked, sitting across from you at the usual table in the library. You looked up and sighed. "Must you speak? It's distracting." You huffed. "Must you be so rude to me? you plague my thoughts enough already, now you're making me think I've done something wrong." Fred said to you. You looked up, frowning. "I usually speak to you in this demeanor, what on earth do you mean that I've plagued your thoughts?" You asked. "You trouble me. You make me mad. I think about you almost the entire day, I barely slept this week alone." Fred said. "Christ-- Fred, you really think your words will work on me don't you?" You said, closing your book and getting up.

You walked down the hall and he followed. "Why do you doubt me?" He asked. "Because I've seen this done to other girls before!" You snapped. "You're different." He said. "How so?" You asked. "for one you're a lot more spiteful." He started. "Oh my, I'm swooning as we speak." You said sarcastically before walking into the great hall for dinner. He huffed and walked after you.

"Y/n, what can I do to prove to you that my words are true?" He asked. You rolled your eyes. "Nothing, because I won't believe you." You said, still walking. "Y/n." He said, grabbing your hand. “I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you." He quoted.

You blinked a few times and a few students were now looking. "Did you just quote... Jane Austen?" You asked. "I read. I read for you, I've lacked sleep for almost a month, a few minutes the bet ends yet I have to say this now." Fred said, still holding your hand. "I love you Y/n." He said. You yanked your hand back. "No. No you do not. This is a tatic-- a trick." You breathed. "It isn't." He assured. "It has to be!" You exclaimed. "Why!? Why do you believe my feelings to be false Y/n!?" He asked.

George leaned over to Harry. "Any clue as to what the hell is happening?" He asked. "No fucking idea man." Harry responded.

You shook your head. "Your words can't have meaning. You can't. I-I can't.... This can't happen!" You said frustrated. "And why not? Because society said so?" He asked. "I have no bounds to what society wants Fred, if your words have meaning-- if I let them have their intended meaning, I could fall." You said sharply. "Is that so bad!?" Fred asked. "Yes!" You said. "Why!?" Fred asked. You shook your head.

Ron bit into a chicken leg watching the two of you. "This just got intense." Hermione muttered. "I'm so invested in this." Dean muttered watching you two as well.

"because--" "Because what!?" "Because there's no guarantee you'd catch me!" You said. "I would--" "Fred. I will not risk falling from such a height that could leave me dead. If I wanted that I'd jump off of the astronomy tower. You drive me mad. You plague my mind like a poison and you make me believe you care." You told him. "What is making you believe that I don't care? Is it the bet? Because I will drop that now if it means you'll listen." Fred asked. You shook your head. "It's not the bet." "then what is it?" Fred asked. "It's this Fred. This." You said motioning to everything around you.

Hermione and George leaned forward watching.

"The school?" "The fact you chose to do this in a public setting. The fact you chose to keep this up around people. The fact that you continue to do this." You told him. Fred shook his head. "I am only standing here because this is where you were walking to. Has it occured to you Princess, that we usually end up in public settings after I follow you?" Fred asked.

"Plot twist." Ron muttered as Harry gaped.

"I--" "I follow you like a patron to a God. I cling to every word as if it were gospel, I love you y/n--" "Stop saying that!" You whined.

Even Draco was watching intently by this point. "Do you think they'll--" "Shut up Crabbe I can't hear what she's going to say next." Draco hushed.

Fred sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Let me love you." "No." "Let me see you." "No" "Let me be with you" he begged. You drew shaking breaths.

"The bet ends in three minutes." George whispered making the group of we watching Gryffindors lean forward to listen better.

You stood almost completely still. His hand was still in yours, your fingers refusing to intertwine with his. "We wouldn't work--" "How do you know?" Fred asked. "because we bicker all the time-- we're bickering now!" You said, slowly moving closer to him due to his pulling. He moved your hair away from your face and you swallowed. "We... We wouldn't..." You struggled to form words and he nodded. "Tell me more." He teased. "We..." You swallowed hard as he lifted both of your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles. "You drive me to the brink of insanity Weasley." You muttered. "You do the same to me Y/n." Fred whispered. ".... Fred..." You breathed out.

"The bet just ended." George said looking at Dean's watch. "What's going to happen!?" Neville whispered to the group and they all watched patiently.

Fred didn't move, neither did you. You could feel his breath, you could smell him and you could hear the ticking of your wrist watch. "The bet is finished." You muttered. "I want to change my reward." "You never had reward for winning." You said. "Well I want one if you'll hear me out." He huffed. "What?" You asked. "A kiss. I did the damn bet for a month, I should be able to get a kiss." He said making you roll your eyes. "Fine--" was all he heard and he quickly let go of your hands, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips. You nearly stumbled back but he held you to him as if you were the last thing he had. You sank into his hold and students seemed to be mesmerized.

You pulled away and huffed. "You really suck Weasley." You grumbled and he chuckled. "Disappointed you lost?" He asked. "Yeah! You're supposed to be a jackass, not intelligent!" You said making him a smile. "Can I be your jackass though?" He asked. You looked at him and shook your head with a laugh. "...Alright Weasley." You nodded and he smiled.

"JUST SHAG ALREADY--" "SHUT UP GOYLE!" Draco hushed and you realized people were watching.

"Oh... Oh God no." You groaned. "What, afraid to be associated with a Weasley?" He asked. "No... Mcgonagall is watching." You whined before smacking your forehead on Fred's shoulder and he snorted. "Hi professor." He waved making you groan.

Correspondence, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Vague mentions of PTSD, spoilers for the Foyet storyline/mentioned character death. Little angsty, maybe a little OOC since Reid and Hotch don’t actually have a boss/subordinate work relationship in this story and I’m adapting that whole-heartedly. But other than that, it’s just grown men acting like dorks and Reid attempting to give parenting advice. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 4535

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link 

--

Chapter 02

--

May 2010

-

Hotch does, indeed, take Dr. Reid up on his offer.

They work on a few more cases together, over the course of six to eight weeks, and each time Dr. Reid proves to be an invaluable asset. His knowledge is unsurpassed, extensive, and astounds Hotch every time he opens a correspondence email from the esteemed professor. 

Have you ever thought about being an FBI agent? He teases one night, when they’d been sending theories back and forth in emails that had become less and less formal. Dr. Reid still sent dissertation-length assessments of the cases when they landed in his niche (which was often), but their replies had turned to a messaging template instead of the business-like format Hotch is used to writing all day every day. Quick, rapid-fire messages replacing the professional grade layout that felt so impersonal, with titles and headers and enough filler to give him chronic headaches.

This was much better. Informal as it was.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t pass the physical exams, but thanks for the compliment. Another life, maybe. Dr. Reid answers, and Hotch finds himself smiling and huffing a laugh behind closed lips, the kind that stays caught up in his chest. He’s not sure how much older the professor is, for all he knew he could be bordering on retirement, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

 I would get them waved, or curve the scores. I have that kind of pull around here. Never would he speak with his agents or anyone at the Quantico office like this, and it had taken weeks and dozens of emails to get to this point. But the freedom of it was nice, enchanting, like a little taste of his life outside of the office. Just confined to the response box of his email. Despite what everyone (ie: Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia) said about him, he did have a sense of humor. He just also had a sense of propriety, and he was their boss. He wasn’t going to make light with them in the place where they catch murderers.

Don’t tempt me. I have tenure. But Virginia gets so cold, I’d freeze to death half the year. 

Didn’t you attend MIT? What did you do during winter?

Froze to death. Pay attention.

Hotch outright laughs, and then snaps his mouth shut and looks out the open blinds of his office. Everyone has gone home, for the most part, but he doesn’t need JJ or someone else hearing him and coming to check on him. He hasn’t been getting much work done since Dr. Reid started replying to his emails that evening, and the little half smirk on his face is something he doesn’t think he can school as he rereads their conversation over and over. 

Apologies. Next I’m sure you’ll tell me how you had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.

No, I took the bus. And Froze. To. Death. I live in sweaters, and I’m from Las Vegas, I’m not meant for the cold. 

Las Vegas? Really?

Born and raised. My mother still lives there. 

Hotch’s eyebrows raise at that, apparently he’s not so old that his mother is still around. His own parents are gone, have been for years, but that’s under different circumstances and really not a situation he likes to reflect on.

Must be nice, only being a few hours from home. Do you go back often?

As little as possible. I should really visit my mother more, but that’s hard for reasons I won’t get into. I do write her, though. A letter every day, although not much happens around here for her to get invested in.

As in a real letter? Not an email, or a phone call?

She doesn’t do well with phone calls, or computers. Letters are more personal, anyway, and she likes being able to have the paper in her hands in my own handwriting. It’s the least I can do, not going home unless I absolutely have to. 

This is the most the man has ever spoken about himself, in a personal manner instead of an academic one, and Hotch isn’t quite sure how to take the evolution. It feels like a shift in their dynamic, an opening that could lead to a deeper level of friendship and -- it’s been a while since he’s had that. Allowed himself to have that. After Foyet, and even before when Haley started pushing for divorce and Hotch responded by isolating himself as much as he could to keep his work unaffected, he’d had trust issues. Hotch is man enough to admit that. 

But speaking with an old professor on the other side of the country might just be the stepping stone he needs. Who knows, maybe they’d even get the chance to meet one day.

I just grimaced at my own triteness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a maudlin review of my life story.

No, that’s okay. I don’t talk much about myself, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. Work and home are kept very separate for me. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I know, but it works as best as it can.

In your line of work, I can only imagine. You do what you have to. 

Hotch pauses in their conversation, looks at the clock and the stack of paperwork he still hasn’t finished -- too busy lost in his talk with Dr. Reid -- and feels an itching in the back of his mind he wants so desperately to scratch at. To give into. Lists of things he knows he should talk about, but doesn’t trust anyone enough to do so. Hotch really isn’t sure he can even trust Dr. Reid with them.

At least, not yet.

Thank you. And thank you for entertaining me, as well. 

Anytime.

--

It’s not a month later that Hotch is sitting at his desk, after hours, once again. Head in his hands and his phone still warm, overworked from the hour-long phone call he’d just endured with his ex-sister-in-law, Jessica. 

Jack was being bullied in school. She’d had to attend the parent-teacher conference about it instead of him, because he’d been on a case in Florida for over two weeks. Which really just highlighted to Jack’s teacher what his home life is like and she expressed her worry. Adamantly. Jessica was in agreement, and she once again wanted to have the conversation on if Hotch returning to work at the BAU had been the right choice after Haley was killed. He’d taken his sabbatical for 30 days, passed his psych evals -- which didn’t mean much, he helped write the qualification questions -- and Jack was doing well with his therapist and in school.

Or so he’d thought. Until today. 

That ‘conversation’ turned into an argument, because Hotch gets defensive when someone questions his choices in regards to his family, and as much as he knows that she is right -- he feels awful about how it devolved. Jessica has gone above and beyond in taking care of Jack, to allow Hotch to return to work, and she is the last person that deserves the brunt of his frustration. He only has himself to blame, and he doesn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who might have answers for him, if there even was a correct answer for his situation. 

The Foyet case is classified. His assigned therapist is so easily played he hasn’t returned to her in months. 

Hotch just wants someone who won’t see through him, even when he pushes back.

He wants to talk to someone who he doesn’t want to push back against.

Who he trusts.

Dr. Reid, I need help with something no one seems to have an answer for, but it’s of a personal matter and not a professional one. Would you mind lending me your services?

Hotch sends the email before he can take it back. It’s late in Virginia, but Dr. Reid is four hours behind him in California and there’s a high chance he might still be in his office. He seems to keep longer hours, for an old professor. 

He won’t admit it to himself, but he feels a tightness in his chest as he awaits an answer. All the paperwork from the Florida case is completed, there’s nothing keeping him there at the office any longer. But it’s too late to go pick up Jack from Jessica’s, and he doesn’t think he would be welcome to come sleep on her couch like he often does on nights like this. When he wants to be there when Jack wakes up, and tonight he longs to do just that. But he isn’t sure he can even look Jessica in the eye right now.

So he sits there, and watches his computer screen, and feels himself distance from the ache in his bones. Knowing if Dr. Reid doesn’t answer him, he would have to spend however long it would take to compartmentalize his apprehension, once again, and go home to his empty house and not think about how he is failing in raising his son. In being a good father. 

The soft ping of his inbox is his single solace in the storm of his thoughts.

Agent Hotchner, You know I’m always happy to help, in any way -- personal or professional -- if I can. What is it you need an answer to?

That tightness releases, but it also gives way to the worry building up in his chest. An overwhelming, crushing amount of it that he didn’t realize was climbing higher and higher the longer he’d been left alone with his thoughts. Drowning in trepidation. Everything he doesn’t want to have pressing on his mind when they are hunting down serial killers, working with criminals that would see it as a weakness and exploit it without batting an eye. 

But this time, Hotch knows this is becoming something he shouldn’t try to hide away. 

Child psychology. Trauma, in particular, and the effects on children after the fact. 

It’s enough to describe what he needs answered, without telling too much of what happened. It’s still hard for Hotch to think about what happened, to fully realize what they had gone through. What had happened to Haley, what had happened to him. What Jack will have to grow up knowing nearly happened to him. What he almost witnessed.

(626)-595-0387 I have unlimited texting, and tend to stay up very late at night. Also, I have a feeling that you might want to keep this off government regulated emails. I’m not a practicing psychiatrist, mind you, but anything I can do to help you I will be more than happy to offer. 

Hotch is stunned. Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. He’s near speechless, staring at the phone number with a Pasadena area code, and hesitates in moving their correspondence off of the email platform. A drastic change in dynamic and expectations, but… it would be nice, to be able to message the professor whenever he wanted. The ease of access an alluring thought. 

Another soft ping in his inbox has him looking up from where he’d been glancing at his cell phone in contemplation.

Also, it goes without saying, but everything we talk about in our conversations would still be confidential. I have no one to tell them to, anyway. 

Hotch huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, and he’s surprised he even can manage that. But he’s barely thinking about it before he’s picking up his cell phone and typing in the number Dr. Reid had given him. []6/3, 22:46[] This is Agent Hotchner.

He sends it, pauses in thought, then keeps typing.

[]6/3, 22:47[] You can call me Hotch, since this is outside work. Agent Hotchner just reminds me I’m abusing bureau resources for personal gain.

The whole interaction is causing this clawing, hot feeling in his chest that might be nervousness in risking the change in their work relationship, or residual guilt from the fight with Jessica about Jack, or just… the fear that Dr. Reid will tell him he is fucking this up and he should never have returned to the FBI at all. Because there are days, like today, where Hotch really starts to think that might be the case.

[]6/3, 22:49[] I figured as much. No one else actually messages me after 6pm except you and some of my more zealous students. 

[]6/3, 22:51[] And although I don’t think you’re abusing anything; in that same vein, you can call me Spencer. This is just two friends having a chat, nothing more. 

Hotch appreciates the gesture, finds himself almost smiling about it -- but then he remembers what he has to relay to ask what he wants to ask the other man. And he isn’t sure where to begin. 

So he just -- begins at the start. The case where Foyet fooled his whole team, posing as a victim, and managing to get away. Slipped through their fingers. Gotten away with murder and insider FBI information and more than he should have ever been able to access. Dr. Reid -- Spencer, please -- doesn’t say anything as he relates all of this, and Hotch commends his patience. Because from the start, this isn’t about child psychology at all. But it is certainly about trauma, and that becomes apparent when Hotch throws caution to the wind and describes what happened to him in his own apartment. Paraphrasing and dropping out intimate details, but explaining what happened is still brutal even stripped to its bare minimum. When Foyet had broken in, and blitzed him, and tortured him as he stabbed him nine times in the chest. Precise, practiced, indicative of letting him live with the knowledge of what that monster masquerading as a man could do. 

The details begin to bleed through the more he types. The more he remembers.

How he’d had to put his ex-wife and son into protective custody. How it hadn’t been enough. His late night obsessions all for naught. And finally, a brief -- or as brief as it can possibly be, for as brutal an event as it was -- summary of what happened when Foyet had found his family. How he had killed Haley, how they had stopped Foyet and Jack had been spared witnessing anything. Even the fight inside Hotch’s own house. He doesn’t… well, Hotch doesn’t plan on describing that and keeps it at bay. He barely remembers it. Blurs of fists and broken furniture and rooms he has memorized from years of memories flying by as they tore through his home like a hurricane. 

But he gives enough of a picture. Enough that, though he doesn’t say as much, Spencer probably knows Foyet didn’t make it out alive. Can guess it was by Hotch’s own hands. 

Which leads them to now -- to the part Hotch needed help with more than anything. His past and his trauma Hotch has a lot of practice dealing with, knows how to handle it alone. As he always has. But the part he doesn’t know how to handle?

He is raising his son on his own. His ex-sister-in-law, Jessica, has been a godsend and is helping with Jack so Hotch can be at work. His lifeblood. His identity. Everything he’s ever worked for. He almost left; Strauss had offered him an early retirement package that was too good to pass up, but he had in the end. Because being an FBI agent, catching the monsters that plague their world, that is what he does. And that’s what Jack knows him to do. 

It helps Jack, Hotch found, to know that his dad is out there catching men like the one that took away his mom. He probably would have taken the loss a lot worse, if Aaron had left the bureau. 

But he’s messing up. Hotch feels that in his bones. He’s gone so much, Jessica is taking on the role of parent instead of Aunt more and more, and Hotch does not want to turn into that father that shows up once in a blue moon and pretends he never left. He’s worried that what Jack’s teacher, and Jessica, had said is true and Jack’s home life isn’t going to be healthy for him. It’s going to make him suffer.

That what Jack has gone through, Hotch doesn’t know how to address correctly. 

It’s near a half hour later that he’s gotten the entire story out, and Hotch realizes that even though text is probably going to be easier to have a conversation like this… he probably could have written it in an email and saved them both some time. He apologizes at the error, because it’s late and his head isn’t quite screwed on straight whenever it comes to matters with his son, and he just… he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what the right course of action is, or if there even is one outside of a professional’s opinion. 

Then Hotch waits for a reply.

It feels like hours, but in reality is only a couple of minutes. 

[]6/3, 23:22[] Hotch, the fact you are so worried about your son and how your actions have affected him through all of this, is all I really need to know about you being a good father. The consideration you are showing him is not something every parent can do, in the face of what happened to you and your family. You do not need to worry about that. You love your son, and that is the most important factor right now.

[]6/3, 23:25[] Secondly, I’m so sorry that this happened to you at all. You and your son sound like you have such a strong bond, and I know that’s what must have helped you through such a difficult time. It’s apparent that you love him very, very much. 

[]6/3, 23:29[] I don’t have a lot of friends that ask me the hard questions like this. Not that I don’t want them to, I just understand why, because I can recite statistics all day and give you textbook answers easily. Which I know you were hoping would give you a black and white response to your question. But in this there isn’t one, sadly. I know you are worried and I feel like you don’t need to be. And I don’t know how to express that in a way that won’t make you detest me. 

[]6/3, 23:32[] Your son just lost his mom, and you just lost your ex-wife, and there’s not going to be a straightforward path to healing. Everything you say you have done for him? It’s perfect, it’s exactly what you should be doing, and don’t stop. That’s all you can do and all you should focus on, in truth. Listen to what he tells you and watch for what he doesn’t, and hug him, because you are a great dad -- and this is coming from someone who did not have such an example. 

[]6/3, 23:33[] And I am very sorry about Haley, Hotch. I truly am. 

Hotch doesn’t even answer him for a good few minutes. It is a lot to process, to read through, and he does read through it more than once. But every single time he reads that final text, his eyes sting hotly and he has to blink back emotions he thought he had waded through plenty on his 30 days of leave. Apparently, not enough.

It’s so much, and yet he wants more. It’s not enough in the sense that he wishes Dr. Reid -- Spencer -- would keep talking to him. Keep telling him he’s doing a good job. That he hasn’t failed his son. 

That for once, he’s handling something right.

With a breath that feels like it shudders through his chest a little more roughly than it should, Hotch slowly types out a response that doesn’t even begin to feel anything close to adequate.

[]6/3, 23:41[] Thank you, Spencer. I could never detest you, in the slightest. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not screwing this up, but 

He pauses, not sure if he even believes what he’s about to type. 

At the last second, he switches tactics entirely. Feels a flood gate open. Just one, solitary floodgate in the vast Hoover Dam size wall he keeps up from the moment he shrugs into his suit jacket at home until he sheds it all away at the end of the night. In the confines of his home, with six physical locks on the door and two different digital security systems. With a weapon carefully concealed and childproofed in every room. With steel reinforced windows and no exit save for the front and back doors. A fire hazard, but a good precaution against anyone who would try to break in -- like Foyet had. 

[]6/3, 23:41[] ...I find it so hard to believe them. In some ways it’s hard to believe you, too, but that’s not personal. Your words have resonated more than anyone else’s, if that’s any consolation. Even more than the therapist they assigned after everything. 

[]6/3, 23:45[] My sister-in-law flat out told me I was failing my son, being away like I am, and his teacher believes his home environment isn’t healthy. He’s being bullied in school. I don’t know what to do.

Hotch types it all out and sends it. 

The reply is instantaneous.

[]6/3, 23:46[] Yes, you do. You know exactly what to do. 

And then there isn’t any further elaboration.

At first, Hotch is confused. He feels himself being pulled from that precipice of self-loathing and despair. Tugged by a string. The confusion forces him to look at Spencer’s response, nine words long, and decipher what they mean. 

Trusting his first instinct, once more.

[]6/3, 23:49[] I have to talk to Jack. 

[]6/3, 23:54[] You have heard all of this from everyone other than your son. He may be young, but he is going to know the answer better than his teacher or his aunt. Talk to him, before you start nailing yourself to a cross. You may find the answer to the situation a much easier fix than you are anticipating.

Hotch considers this, thinking about his son. Six-years-old now, first grade, smart as a tack, curious and kind. But so strong, a foundation that even he found himself clinging to sometimes, in the face of the storm of everything that had happened to them. Which is not healthy, and Hotch learned to not do that to him. To instead find solidarity in their relationship, withstanding the storm together. As they always have. 

[]6/3, 23:57[] He’s not one to let a bully have his way. He knows that’s not right. Maybe he has another strategy.

[]6/4, 00:01[] He’s young enough that trying to befriend his abuser would be a good tactic to counter the situation, does that seem like something he would do?

[]6/4, 00:02[] That sounds exactly like Jack. Hotch replies, with a smile finally easing on to his face -- and it feels lighter now. Easier to hold.

[]6/4, 00:04[] He sounds like a sweet kid.

[]6/4, 00:05[] He is. I’m very proud of him.

[]6/4, 00:07[] You really are a great dad, Hotch. I’m not just saying it to say it. 

That crushing, overwhelming feeling has ebbed to nearly nothing -- and with a sudden rush of vertigo it is replaced with gratitude for the old professor lending him his evening hours. It flashes warm and sudden and Hotch isn’t used to that, either. 

[]6/4, 00:08[] I would never expect you to, but thank you.

Even he feels lame for thanking the man for saying such a thing.

[]6/4, 00:10[] You don’t need to thank me, I barely did anything.

[]6/4, 00:11[] But if you ever need to talk, about anything really, I’d be more than happy to do so. 

[]6/4, 00:13[] I promise I can be good at that. The listening part. Day or night, it really doesn’t matter. I’ll always be around.

Hotch pauses at the offer, and then types slow and hesitant.

[]6/4, 00:16[] What if I just want to check in on a friend?

[]6/4, 00:16[] I am also around for that. 

The answer is sudden, without hesitation, and Hotch feels a smile start to ease the muscles in his face. Soften the edges once more.

[]6/4, 00:18[] I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to after a long day. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…

He pauses again, not quite sure if he remembers how to do this without pressing in too fast. Committing to too much, not sure what he is able to give of himself. But he’s already shared more with Dr. Reid in two months than he has with David in the past two years. 

Hotch makes a decision, for himself, for the first time in a long time.

[]6/4, 00:18[] ...It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend outside of the bureau. 

[]6/4, 00:19[] Do I still count if I’m a consultant?

[]6/4, 00:19[] You absolutely count. 

His own message makes him smile, and there’s a beat between messages where he hopes he made the older man smile as well. 

[]6/4, 00:22[] I’m never short on topics of conversation, I warn you. So unless you want a lecture on quantum physics -- how do you feel about chess?

[]6/4, 00:24[] I’m getting the feeling you’ll wipe the floor with me.

[]6/4, 00:25[] Oh, without a doubt. But the desktop app also has a chat feature.

[]6/4, 00:26[] Look at you, all modern and with the times.

[]6/4, 00:28[] My home phone may be a rotary, but even I can’t scoff at the vast reach of online chess. 

[]6/4, 00:28[] So what say you?

Hotch pauses, one final time, and considers the night; the conversation, Spencer’s advice, the way talking about what had happened helped ease the weight of it more than he’d ever anticipated. Then he thinks of the source, of what started it all, and how -- once again -- Dr. Reid was right about a number of things. But one thing in particular. 

[]6/4, 00:32[] I’m going to take your advice and go to my son. But tomorrow night, after he’s in bed, I have many hours to myself.

[]6/4, 00:35[] By no coincidence whatsoever, my evenings are always free. Care to show off those FBI honed deduction skills? My best chess opponents have ironically been FBI agents.

[]6/4, 00:36[] Oh, I’m terrible. Trust me.

[]6/4, 00:37[] I promise I don’t care. Your company is worth however many short games we can endure. 

Hotch smiles, despite himself, and this time doesn’t try to hold it back.

[]6/4, 00:39[] Then, it’s a date.

-

(tbc...)

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