#I don’t care how you dress it up his pseudo mother figure and home for well over a decade was destroyed

[persephoneggsy]

I just. I would love a fic where Sebastian isn’t treated like a spoiled brat for wanting *nders dead for what he did. I would love to read a fic where Hawke doesn’t break up with him and is treated by the narrative like they made a righteous, self-sacrificing decision.

[peachycoreroo]

the forbidden fruit | zeke yeager

summary: zeke was like a second father to you and you were his favorite little girl. maybe, it wasn't normal to like your dad's best friend that much, but who cares if it's normal when it feels this good.

pairing: dad’s best friend!zeke x college fem!reader

genre: smut, pwp

word count: 5.4k

warnings: age gap, vaginal penetration, lowkey pseudo-cest bc you call zeke 'uncle', daddy kink, oral fem!receiving, fingering, oral m!receiving, mini degradation, praise kink, a few spanks, choking, zeke spits in your mouth, usage of ‘slut’, ‘whore’ and ‘slutty’, bunny as a pet name, kinda exhibitionism?, manipulation, corruption kink, dub-con vibes but you actually want it, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, smoking, dumbification, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up kids), creampie, size kink

authors note: this is for @weepinglevi​‘s adult movie tropes collab, thank you sm for letting me join!! def check out the other amazing fics in this collab<3 this is a lot darker than my other stuff so far, but i had so much fun writing it, so enjoy my first piece for aot!! here’s a link to my masterlist

uncle zeke, or uncle zuzu as you liked to call him when you were still a child, has always been your favorite person since you were little. technically, you weren’t blood-related, but you might as well have been with how integrated into your family he was.

him and your father were best friends since middle school and you did call him ‘daddy’ a lot back then as a three-year-old, when you couldn’t grasp the concept of him not also being your dad. he was there for your birth, your childhood, your embarrassing teens and now even for your 20th birthday.

you don’t exactly know when the thing happened though.

one day, you were all a big, happy family and the next you suddenly realized, how attractive zeke yeager really was. maybe, it was the way you noticed that he was so much more athletic and broader than your father as they walked around your pool in their swimming trunks on a hot summer day. maybe, it was the way you suddenly became aware of how tall he really was, when you tried to reach a cup on a shelf too high, only to feel his presence directly behind you with his chest against your back as he reached his arm above your head and grabbed the cup, only to hand it to you with a teasing ‘you should really try this thing called growing. i heard it does wonders against high shelfs.’ or maybe, it was the way you finally registered how his gray eyes shamelessly checked you out as you walked around in your flimsy crop tops and shorts, barely covering anything.

it was so wrong, but that didn’t mean you would stop your little teasing. your dresses got shorter and shorter, dropping your keys on purpose on the way out just to flash him your lacy panties. hugging him longer than usual as he was leaving, just to press your breasts up against his hard chest. you wanted him to know you weren’t a little girl anymore. you wanted his mind to be filled with lewd thoughts about you. only you.

even when you left for college, you couldn’t stop thinking about the blond man, especially when you were in your bed late at night, with your hand stuffed in your panties and your mouth whimpering his name into the pillow. images of him, with his hard cock in a large palm, pleasuring himself with you on his mind, groaning your name, always brought you to an orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. you knew the only way to quench your need for this man was by having him, no matter how rotten your desire was.

at last, it was finally your birthday, and you couldn’t wait to get home and act upon your ploy to seduce zeke yeager. it was a foolproof plan really. nobody would even suspect you were trying to rile your favorite uncle up, and he would only react, if he wanted you just as much. what better gift for your birthday, than ultimately having the forbidden fruit you’ve been trying to deny yourself of for so long.

“happy birthday, angel!”, your family exclaimed excitedly as you came downstairs. you quickly scanned the room to see uncle zeke already sitting in his usual spot on an armchair in the corner of the living room, getting up and joining your parents at the bottom of the stairs when he noticed your presence.

knowing that he was there, you finally smiled happily, thanking them softly before being pulled into a tight embrace by zeke. “yeah, happy birthday, angel”, he lowly murmured into your ear as he pressed you firmly against him, goosebumps erupting at his slightly suggestive tone.

“thank you, uncle zuzu”, you whispered back, squeezing him tight, hoping to get the message across that you were more than happy to be in his arms.

alas, you were forced to part as your mother shoved him to the side to embrace you, your dad jokingly complaining about you going for a hug with your favorite first instead of your parents, in the background.

“well, i can’t help that i’m so much cooler to her than you”, zeke retorted playfully, earning him a light-hearted punch to the arm from your father.

the rest of the day felt like an eternity. it’s not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with your parents, especially if zeke was there, but the prospect of getting the blond male to act upon your, hopefully, mutual desires, had you looking at the clock more times than you would like to admit.

“are you waiting for something?”

you quickly snapped out of your daydreams of what could happen later, as the man with the main role in them sat down closely beside you, your thighs brushing against each other. you couldn’t help your gaze lingering where your skin touched before blinking up at him through your lashes, only to see him grinning down at you, clearly amused by your stare. time for the first part of the mission.

“oh yeah, i’ll be going clubbing with a few friends later.”

“clubbing?”, zeke pressed with a frown, “and your parents are letting you?”

zeke has always been very overprotective of you. your dad joked that it’s because you’re basically like his daughter, but you hoped it was more than that. that’s why you were counting on his overprotectiveness to eventually lead you to the desired outcome of the day aka you, stuffed full of his cum.

“mmm, yeah. it’s my 20th birthday uncle zeke, not my 10th, you know. i’m an adult”, you retorted provocatively before getting up. “’m gonna go get ready.”

you could swear you felt his irritated glare burn into your back as you made your way upstairs, grinning at the first bit of your plan succeeding.

the second step, was your appearance. just a week before that, you went shopping for the shortest dress you could find, ready to turn heads, or specifically, one head. shower, hair, makeup, baby pink lace underwear, see-through tights, black dress. you haven’t felt this hot and confident in a while with college forcing you to wear hoodies and sweatpants all day every day. no way in hell were you going to make yourself suffer through endless lectures in cute skirts and dresses.

five minutes before your friends came, one of your essential male friends included, you decided to head downstairs to make sure zeke had enough time to admire how hot you looked.

as you came downstairs, you could hear your dad exclaiming ‘look at my beautiful girl, all grown up’, making zeke turn around. goosebumps erupted as you felt his eyes slowly trail along your figure, your skin tingling where his gaze burned into your exposed skin.

you did a full spin, showing off your outfit to the three people in your living room, but only caring about the opinion of one. to your disappointment, you didn’t quite get the reaction you wanted, with zeke turning back around to your mother, continuing to talk about whatever.

no matter how much you hated it, you couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up your tightening throat, making you sick with disgust. you knew your mother was just as much as a friend to the man of your desires as your father, but it didn’t stop you from feeling this way. you wanted his eyes on you and not some other woman, even if that woman was your own mother.

as if on cue, the doorbell rang out, your mood immediately lifting at the chance that the third step of your plan finally elicits a much-craved reaction from zeke.

you opened the door, your best friends immediately throwing themselves at you, screaming their congratulations and complimenting your attire. just like you hoped, the boy you’ve been friends with and flirted with since high school, jean kirstein, was the last one to congratulate you. he hugged you tight, leaning down, whispering a low ‘happy birthday, pretty girl. you look good enough to eat’, at the same time as your parents and zeke came into the foyer.

the hug you shared with jean lasted just a tad too long for it to count as appropriate, with you giggling excessively at his comment just to be sure that zeke heard it. and as you parted to say goodbye to your family, your flirty friend kept his strong arm around your waist, as though it belonged there.

you don’t miss the way zeke glared at jean’s arm around you or the way he had the slightest frown on his face as he told you to ‘have fun and be careful’, but when you turned around and left the house to get into jean’s car, disappointment filled you when you realized that the blond male didn’t do anything to keep you from going. all this planning and finger crossing for nothing. ‘happy fucking birthday to me’, you bitterly thought, as you drove off into the night, mood already completely ruined.

after hours of trying to enjoy the end of your birthday even for a bit, you finally had enough. jean took you home, trying to make out with you on the backseat of his car in the parking lot, but as tempting as the idea of letting him fuck zeke yeager out of your mind sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to. the fact that today was supposed to be the day you got your dad’s best friend right where you wanted him, was enough to make you crave a nice shower and your warm bed. you couldn’t wait for this day to end.

when jean pulled up to your house, you parted ways with a quick kiss and a cheeky promise of tomorrow, before making your way into the house. it was already 3 a.m., so you were sure everybody was already asleep, as you quietly made your way inside.

“there you are. welcome back, pretty girl.”

at hearing zeke’s raspy voice out of nowhere, you flinched and let out an unvoluntary squeak. what was he doing here?

you brought your hand to your heart, feeling it hammer against your chest, your eyes snapping to the spot your dad’s best friend was sitting in, in the kitchen. “uncle zeke! you scared me, what are you still doing here?”

as you made your way into the kitchen, you finally noticed the empty tequila bottle on the table and your unconscious father, snoring on the coach in the living room, just a few feet away.

“mmm, wanted to make sure you come home safely after your dad passed out, so i waited for you”, he casually retorted while his grey eyes inspected you from head to toe. smeared lipstick, a light sheen of sweat on your skin and your dress hiked up dangerously high on your thighs.

feeling small under his calculating gaze, you once again looked at your sleeping dad and gestured towards the bottle. “guess you also had a wild party going on?”

“mh, your dad’s just a lightweight.”

the air inside the kitchen was heavy and suffocating. you knew something was wrong with the way zeke wouldn’t stop staring at you and only answered with short sentences, his usual playful chattiness nowhere to be seen.

trying to get rid of the awkwardness and your nervousness, you asked: “where- uh, where’s mom?”

“asleep”, was the short answer you got, making you even more uneasy than before. “oh, w-well. i’m gonna go and also hit the hay. thanks for staying up for me uncle zeke, good night.”

“stop.”

this one word made you halt in your tracks just as you were about to turn around, making you look questioningly back at him. what you didn’t expect however, was to see zeke yeager spread his thighs and pet one of them with a simple ‘sit down, angel.” somehow, the pet name sounded condescending as it left his lips, but that didn’t stop your pussy from clenching at the sight of him with his legs wide open, looking positively inviting like never before.

your gaze quickly flickered towards the unconscious figure in the armchair, but even that couldn’t stop you when uncle zeke was offering you to sit on his lap, like you dreamed of for so long.

your legs slowly took you towards the spot he was sitting in, only for him to pull you on one of his thighs as soon as you were in his reach. his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, while the other found its place on your thigh, your heartrate skyrocketing at the close proximity.

not really knowing what to do with your hands and where to look, you once again brought your gaze to your dad in the living room, having the perfect view of him from your position on zeke’s lap, your fingers interlocked in your own lap as to not touch him too much.

“how was the party?”, he questioned seemingly nonchalant, but his tone had a certain edge to it, that made you feel as if you were being scolded.

you chuckled nervously, keeping your eyes locked on your unconscious father, as you started uttering: “oh, uh… it was- “

only to have zeke’s palm grab your cheeks, squeezing them together in a pout, as he turned your head towards him, forcing you to focus your gaze on him.

“did you fuck him?”

zeke was watching your expression closely when he practically growled the question, taking note of how your eyes widened, your breath deepened, and your thighs automatically pressed together as the meaning of his imposing words settled in.

the jealousy could practically be grabbed as it rolled off the blond male in waves and you knew, that if you wanted your birthday wish to come true, you had to play the part of the innocent and unsuspecting little girl.

“wha-? no!”, you exclaimed supposedly offended and distraught that he would even ask such a thing, as best as you could with your lips pressed together in a pout by his large palm.

the man’s dark grey – were they always this dark? – eyes narrowed as you seamlessly pretended to not know what he was hinting at, but the way you immodestly battered your eyelashes at him, one hand finding it’s way onto the palm that was squeezing your plush thigh, showed him at you weren’t as oblivious as you feigned to be.

“no, huh?”, he chuckled darkly, his hand leaving your face to push you down onto your knees between his legs instead, “then you’re not against helping your dear uncle with a certain issue, or are you baby?”

stammering out a little confused ‘what?’, you quickly checked whether your dad was still asleep, only for yeager’s palm to return to its place on your cheeks, squeezing them once again as he yanked your head back towards him. “don’t act like a brainless, useless slut, angel. it really doesn’t suit you. you’re my smart little girl, aren’t you?”

the sickly-sweet tone he used worked like a charm on your praise-starved brain. you wanted to please him and be his good girl, no matter what it took.

looking up at him with big, wide eyes, a drop of drool fell from your pouty lips onto his jean-clad crotch when he tightened his hold on your cheeks as you nodded like an obedient little toy, making him smile proudly.

“that’s my girl. now,”, he declared, unbothered by the tiny wetness seeping into his pants, his veiny hands made quick work of his belt and zipper, “show me how much you want to help your uncle zeke.”

just the sight of him whipping out his hard cock out of the confinements of his jeans and boxers, was enough to make a small pool of wetness gush out of your cunt, not that it mattered anyway. your lacy panties were already long soaked just from sitting on his lap.

zeke’s cock was longer and definitely thicker than you could’ve ever imagined, bigger than any you’ve ever taken with a prominent vein running on the underside, the tip flushed in a pretty pink. the saliva collecting in your mouth at the prospect of having him down your throat soon made you swallow hard, while you waited for his next instructions, not wanting to disappoint him by acting impulsively.

seeing his best friends’ daughter so submissive and eager-to-please on her knees between his legs as said best friend laid, passed out, just a few feet away, made zeke’s cock twitch. he knew it was sick and wrong, but he has always been a weak man when it came to you.

“go ahead, sweetheart. make uncle zeke feel good.”

at his permission to go, you nearly lunched forward, your pretty lips coated in sticky lipgloss instantly wrapping around the sensitive tip of his dick, making him groan deeply somewhere in the back of his throat.

you alternated between swirling your tongue around his cockhead and slowly sucking, as zeke put a cigarette between his lips, lightning it. normally, you hated the foul smell of nicotine and complained numerous times about how much you hated smokers but… the sight of it dangling between his thick fingers, as his other hand lost itself inside your hair, guiding your head to bob up and down on his length, awakened something deep in you, that you didn’t even know existed.

it didn’t help that while every other person reeking of smoke repulsed you, the same scent clinging to zeke brought you a sense of comfort. the fact that he also looked hot as fuck doing it, certainly didn’t hurt.

above you, the tall man made sure to let his eyes wander to your father from time to time, mostly keeping them locked on your lewd expression and your full lips wrapped around his cock though. he knew that the man a few feet away was a heavy sleeper, especially when drunk, so he wasn’t afraid of letting you know just how pleased he was with you.

“that’s a good girl. doing so good for me, want me to cum down your throat, sweetheart?”  

you mumbled a small ‘please’ around his cock, causing him to groan huskily as your vocal cords vibrated against his sensitive tip. knowing he was almost there, you hallowed your cheeks and tightened your throat, wanting him to lose himself in the inviting warmth of your mouth.

as soon as zeke felt himself teetering at the edge, he couldn’t stop himself from quickly putting out the cig in his hand and holding your head still with his large palms as he started frantically thrusting up in your mouth. having zeke use you to chase his own high made you clench around nothing as you gagged around his length, doing your best to try and keep your jaw slack just so you could hear the man praising you again.

at the feeling of you choking on his cock, zeke’s head fell back as he moaned hoarsely, the sound going straight to the fire in the pit of your stomach already forming just from sucking him off and hearing his erotic grunts.

on the next thrust inside your warm, wet mouth, zeke emptied himself in the back of your throat with a low growl of ‘good fucking girl’, making you whine around his dick. the blond pulled you off as you started coughing, instructing you to ‘swallow, angel.’ being the whipped, little toy you did as you were told, looking up at him as you licked the remaining cum of your spit covered lips.

zeke smirked at your sensual display, whilst he stood up, pulling you up to your feet, only to push you against the dinner table and impatiently smash his lips against yours.

you had half the mind to think about how he didn’t even seem to care that his sticky cum still lingered in your mouth as he kissed you before your brain completely shut down because you were making out with zeke yeager.

strong palms wandered up your thighs under your short dress, cupping your ass while the flimsy fabric rode up as a consequence of his wandering hands. the display of strength as he easily lifted you up on the hard surface behind you, made your head spin. everything this man was doing had you weak in the knees and if you weren’t already seated, you were convinced your legs would’ve given out underneath you.

as yeager made room for himself between your thighs, spreading them in the process, your arms found their place around his broad shoulders, pulling him down even closer towards you as you tasted the whiskey and smoke on his slightly chapped lips. you could hear his soft chuckle at the displeased whimper you let out when he removed himself from you, before tracing his thumb faintly over your clothed clit. just that slightest contact with your puffy bundle of nerves had your hips twitching up, your face heating up at the obvious display of his effect on you.

“aww, is my slutty little baby desperate for her favorite uncle?”, he asked in mock empathy, ripping your tights like it was nothing, before his eyes soaked up the sight of your baby pink lace panties completely ruined by your slick.

“i see you were ready for something to happen today. were you hoping the little boy from earlier would fuck you?”, he almost snarled the question, before adding: “or were you hoping for me, bunny? are these pretty panties just for me?”

as your core gushed out more of your juices at the pet name, you obediently shook your head at his accusation of you dressing up for jean, mewling out: “y-you, daddy. only you.”

zeke closed his eyes to compose himself when his cock twitched alive once again at the sweet melody of you calling him daddy. he knew this was the point of no return. he could’ve stopped this before, he was sure of that, but not anymore. not when you oh so sweetly called out for your daddy to take care of you.

in one swift motion, your panties were gone and thrown into a dark corner of the kitchen, the only light illuminating the space coming from the turned-on lamp in the foyer from when you came home. forcing you to recline back as zeke lifted your legs up on his muscular shoulders, you shuddered as his hot breath hit your drenched pussy.

after just one kitten lick to your core, you heard zeke’s pleased hum, mumbling something along the lines of ‘just as sweet as you, bunny’, but you couldn’t tell for sure because the very next second he was diving tongue first into you, sucking, licking, and slurping like it’s his last meal. the moan that left you at his intense ministrations was downright pornographic and you could only clench around nothing as his large palm came up to silence you.

“as much as i’d love to listen to your cries, sweet thing, gonna wake your parents up if you keep at it”, he muttered against your sensitive clit, the vibrations only making you mewl against his hand.

your hands tried to find purchase somewhere, the hard surface of the table, your plush thighs, before your nails finally got a grasp of his blond locks, using the leverage as an advantage to push his face even further into your slick cunt.

the obscene, wet sounds that echoed in the room were making your face heat up, but the embarrassment didn’t stop you from grinding desperately against his tongue, his thick beard rubbing painfully but oh so deliciously against the delicate skin of your inner thighs.

when you felt two of his thick fingers probe at your entrance before pushing in, instantly hitting that one spot inside you, you threw your head back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling against his head as you reached your peak around his digits. your back arched off the wooden table, thighs snugly pressing against the sides of his head, almost suffocating him in the process, while you moaned a long, high-pitched ‘daddy’ against his palm.

zeke yeager could proudly say that he’s had his fair share of women, but the sight of you, succumbing to the pleasure he was providing you with, was by far the most erotic he had the privilege of witnessing. the mix of your cross-eyed expression, your sloppy cunt clenching impossibly around his thick fingers and your body twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, only fueled his desire to see you go dumb on his fat cock.

a hard slap against the fat of your right thigh caused you to squeal, your legs sliding down from his shoulders, completely limp from all the spent energy. zeke leaned down, once again capturing your lips in a heated make out. his warm tongue still had the distinct taste of your release on it as it slipped between your lips, his full beard soaked in your juices scratching against your cheeks and chin, but you certainly didn’t mind as long as you could have him between your legs, mouths interlocked.

“wanna see your cute lil’ ass while i wreck you, bunny. can you turn around for daddy?”, he questioned, voice raspy, but he didn’t actually wait for an answer, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip and flipping you over on your stomach, ass pressed up against his crotch already. not being able to control yourself at another clear display that his muscles weren’t just for show, your hips automatically grinded back against his painfully hard cock.

another strong blow was delivered, this time to your bouncy behind, your small mewl echoing in the large space. “slutty, desperate whores aren’t appreciated here, bunny. thought you were daddy’s good, little girl? guess daddy was wrong about you”, zeke sighed in faux disappointment, knowing you would do anything for him to keep praising you.

“n-no! am your good, little girl! ‘m sorry, daddy, please don’t leave”, you practically sobbed out, to drunk on his touch to realize the manipulative undertone in his phrasing.

smirking victoriously, the blond tenderly smoothed his huge palm, with his fingers covered in your already dried up essences, over your ass check, his fat tip nudging against your soaked entrance, whilst he shh-ed you, promising that he’s ‘not gonna leave you bunny, ‘m all yours.’

at the promise of him belonging to you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, just as yeager decided to push his aching dick into your tight pussy. at the first bump against your gummy walls, you both knew no one would ever be able to compare. it was a tight fit as he continued to push past the resistance of your cunt, hissing at the continuous contractions around his sensitive cock. no way in hell, he thought to himself as he already had to hold himself back from cumming as if he were some virgin all over again.

when he finally bottomed out, his patience was close to non-existent, so without waiting for you to adjust, he started thrusting in you like a mad man. your hands flew out to grab the other edge of the wooden surface to have some kind of support, as his powerful thrusts made the whole table shake and drag across the tiled floor.

“’s too much, daddy! slow down!”, you wailed, knowing full well that this was exactly what you waited for all this time. the dark chuckle that left his panting and grunting mouth told you that he was also very aware of the fact that you didn’t actually want him to slow down, so the only reaction you got, besides his acknowledging chuckle, were his thrusts picking up in speed.

after another strong hit to your jiggling ass and a groan that sounded suspiciously like ‘such a perfect ass’, zeke leaned over you, completely covering you with his large frame. his hand found its way to your front, giving your tits a quick squeeze through your dress, before continuing its journey up, finally settling around your neck.

as it constricted around your neck, thick fingers expertly pressing against the pressure points, restricting the air flow oh so deliciously, your spit-covered lips fell open in a silent ‘o’, the act lurching you impossibly closer to your orgasm. at this point, the only coherent words you were able to formulate were ‘yes’, ‘daddy’ and ‘please’, causing the tall man’s chest to fill with pride at your dumbed out state.

“my cute, submissive, little bunny. have i fucked you stupid with my cock?”, he teased, only to get his confirmation by the lack of response on your side, too far gone to process that he asked a question.

the rhythmic clenching of your warm core reminded him that his dick was practically begging him to let it stuff you full of his sticky cum, so as his grip on your throat and hip tightened even more, he let his carnal desires take over as he rutted impossibly faster inside you.

every thrust caused his fat tip to poke harshly against your cervix, the feeling of pain only fueling your pleasure, as you silently took all your favorite uncle was giving you. somewhere in the back of your mind the thought of your father sleeping just in the next room flew around, but it quickly got fucked back out by zeke’s fat cock.

at the next rough plunge inside your warm walls and the low growl of ‘cum on daddy’s fucking cock, bunny’ directly beside your ear, you came undone with a loud moan of his name. you were pretty sure the force of your orgasm made you blackout for a second, because the next time you came to your senses, zeke was shooting his load inside your inviting cunt directly at your cervix, your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

you were exhausted. your whole body shook and twitched, your stomach hurt from being pressed against the edge of the dinner table for so long, sweat dripping down on the surface from your face and neck.

suddenly the room was way too quiet, safe for the heavy breathing and your occasional whimpers. slowly, zeke pulled out, only to spread your cheeks apart to take a good luck at your abused pussy pushing out his white cum. it slowly trickled down your legs, mixing with your leaked juices on the tiles beneath your feet.

not having the energy to move, you let the blond male pull down your dress back over your ass, listening to the rustle of fabric and belt clicking as he got dressed again. just as he gently helped you stand-up again, you could hear a yawn coming from the doorway that led to the living room.

“what’re you both doing?”, your half-awake father asked as he made his way through the kitchen past you to get to the foyer. your nails dug into zeke’s muscular forearms as the panic of getting caught formed in the pit of your stomach, only to hear the older man murmur a casual, seemingly sleepy ‘she just got home, gonna go sleep now’, as though he wasn’t blowing out your back just a few minutes prior.

with an unsuspecting ‘’aight, night you two’, your dad disappeared in the shared bedroom with your sleeping mother.

“fuck”, you breathed out, stressed at almost being caught and your legs buckling, only for zeke’s strong arms to hold you up right.

“hey, look at me, angel”, the male softly demanded, gaze tender as your eyes met his. “i’ll bring you to bed and clean up here, okay? don’t worry about a thing.”

a sleepy, but happy smile stretched itself across your lips at him caring for you so deeply.

“open your mouth, sweetheart.”

without second-guessing the request, you obediently opened your mouth, only to feel his saliva hit your outstretched tongue. the taste made you mewl needily as you realized what it all meant. you were his and he was yours.

zeke chuckled, amused by your blissed out expression, before pecking your lips, picking you up and caring you to your room with you mumbling a satisfied ‘best birthday ever’ against his neck.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so  much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe 

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing. 

Word count: 5.2k 

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up. 

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was. 

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice. 

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.” 

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?” 

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch. 

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.” 

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside. 

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.” 

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best. 

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver. 

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride. 

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.” 

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...” 

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more. 

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music. 

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?” 

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.” 

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously. 

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.” 

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution. 

“We’ve had a few meetings.” 

“Hm.” 

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear. 

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back. 

“Yes. You can call me J.” 

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well. 

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road. 

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too. 

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned. 

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.” 

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.” 

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people. 

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” 

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away. 

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better. 

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...” 

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--” 

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?” 

“Obviously they don’t care.” 

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.” 

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”  

“Fox?” 

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.” 

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up. 

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...” 

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince. 

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...” 

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.” 

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?” 

“Very observant, your Highness. F?” 

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.” 

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed. 

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.” 

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked. 

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?” 

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.” 

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.” 

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head. 

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.” 

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?” 

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.” 

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you. 

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said. 

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock. 

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?” 

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared. 

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed. 

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.” 

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks. 

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them. 

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.” 

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.” 

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say. 

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?” 

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale. 

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.” 

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??” 

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.” 

“What?!” 

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.” 

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!” 

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper. 

“It was for your saf--” 

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--” 

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence. 

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood. 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck. 

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work. 

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal. 

“What is it Bee?” 

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things. 

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments. 

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.” 

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful. 

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged. 

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.” 

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed. 

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.” 

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?” 

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.” 

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved. 

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...” 

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person. 

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?” 

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.” 

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.” 

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier. 

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.” 

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.” 

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.” 

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice. 

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--” 

“--That you were in love with me?” 

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--” 

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought. 

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.” 

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.” 

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone. 

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.” 

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.” 

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.” 

“I-I don’t.” 

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses. 

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched. 

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.” 

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt. 

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours. 

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?” 

“Ch--” 

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat. 

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut. 

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face. 

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause. 

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Goodnight your Highness.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them. 

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.” 

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side. 

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people. 

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel. 

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action. 

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging. 

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.” 

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.” 

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...” 

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.” 

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?” 

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--” 

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Both of the men chimed, “You do?” 

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.” 

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother. 

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.” 

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.” 

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it. 

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.” 

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?” 

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.” 

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--” 

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.” 

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled. 

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?” 

The buzzing grew nearer. 

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?” 

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact. 

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--” 

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked. 

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture. 

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying. 

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes. 

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms. 

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.” 

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you. 

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face. 

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you. 

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”  

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red. 

“The car?” 

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.” 

“We’ll need it.” 

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team. 

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage. 

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood. 

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.” 

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face. 

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.” 

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming. 

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

[chiwhorei]

who prays for the headsman?

paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.2k

warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned

a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!

hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots

“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”

From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.

You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.

He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.

“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.

A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.

“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”

You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.

Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.

“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.

“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.

This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?”

Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.

“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.

“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.

“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.

Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.

“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”

He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.

“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.

“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.

“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.

“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.

Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.

Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.

“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.

Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.

The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.

You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.

Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.

“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.

As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.

“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.

“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”

You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.

Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve

Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.

“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.

With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.

Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.

“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”

There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.

There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.

Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.

Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.

“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.

His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.

“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.

Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.

Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.

Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.

Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.

The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.

Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.

There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.

When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.

You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[tumblezwei]

Why Kyoko Mogami is the GOAT

And why y’all are SLEEPING ON HER

Spoilers for Skip Beat, but honestly idk how much of the story I’m gonna get into for this since I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Still, read at your own risk.

Also this is LONG lmao

Kyoko Mogami is a 16 year old middle school drop-out that works two jobs day and night in order to pay rent for the Tokyo apartment that she lives in all by herself 6 days out of the week. Going into the first chapter, there are three things immediately clear about her. 

1. She’s cheerful, kind, and also kind of batshit insane. From the first moment we meet her, her personality is throwing itself at our faces and refusing to calm down. (apologies for the bad quality images, I work with what I have)

2. She loves Sho Fuwa, her childhood friend and rising rock-star that asked Kyoko to come with him to Tokyo after middle school graduation to support his career

3. Nothing matters to her as long as Sho is happy. Sure, she laments that her love for girly dresses, cosmetics, and fairy tale princesses will never amount to anything since all of her money is going toward paying the rent on her and Sho’s apartment, but that’s fine. As long as her precious Sho is happy, so is she. 

And, as you’d expect, things go to shit pretty quickly afterwards. During one her off days from her night job, Kyoko decides to visit Sho at his recording studio with dinner. After sneaking in past the hoards of squealing teenage girls waiting outside to catch a glimpse of him, she overhears him talking to his manager. 

“I’m the heir to a prominent Japanese inn, do you think I’ve ever cooked or cleaned all by myself?” She hears. 

“That’s awful,” the manager replies, “you make it sound as if you brought her just to be your maid.”

“She’s basically been my maid since I was a kid, or else I wouldn’t have brought her along with me. It’s not like I forced her, I asked her a question and gave her the choice. It’s only natural that she’d work her butt off to support me.” 

And he just keeps going. Once he’s made enough to live independently, he’ll send her back. How dare his parents try to set him up with a plain-looking girl like her. She doesn’t even wear make-up! 

As images of flash in Kyoko’s mind of standing in front of make-up stores with no money to buy anything, she takes Sho’s words just as well as one might expect. By unleashing the box of tucked away emotions she’s held in her chest and swearing to take revenge on Sho for using her and throwing her away like this.

. I failed to mention this at the start, but the beginning of the chapter introduces us to the most important piece of symbolism in Kyoko’s character development: Pandora’s box. 

For Kyoko’s entire life, she’s held this box inside herself. In myth, once this box was opened, all of the evil of the world is unleashed, never to be put back inside. So for Kyoko, the metaphor is quite apt. Hearing Sho’s words unlocks the box and unleashes a kind of anger that not even Kyoko knew she was capable of, a kind of determination and vengeance that has her dyeing her hair and staking outside of a talent manager’s house for days on end to whittle down his willpower and give her a chance to audition at Sho’s rival talent agency, LME. Every time she hears his name, or sees his picture, she’s filled with myopic sense of rage that no one can calm her down from. 

Her sole mission in life is to get revenge on Sho Fuwa, a sentiment that finds her at odds with LME’s top actor, Ren Tsuruga, who sees her one-sided quest for vengeance as an insult to people who truly love acting. But as if Kyoko cares, she needs to get revenge! 

I’m gonna drop the pseudo-narration for a bit because I actually need to skip over a fair bit of plot to get to what I think makes Kyoko incredibly compelling, outside of being the funniest female character in existence. We’re going to jump forward in time to Kyoko’s first acting gig. Well, not so much an gig as much as it is a competition. She’s been tasked to play the role of a dignified inn keeper that’s serving tea to the main male character. After having broken her ankle and been challenged by the real lead actress, this is her first shot to prove she has the talent to make it in the acting industry. So in order to immerse herself in the role, she utilizes her experience of being trained by Sho’s mother to take care of the inn that his family owned. It’s here that we finally understand that Kyoko giving up her life back home for Sho wasn’t just a spur of the moment decision brought about by infatuation. It was something she’d been doing for her entire life. Everything she knows how to do, every skill she’s obtained, has been because of Sho. And this is the moment that she realizes that fact too. (the first image is from after the scene is done, wherein Kyoko cannot snap herself out of her character due to the lessons she was taught as a child, despite her sitting position making her broken ankle unbearably painful). 

Even her righteous fury at being left in the dust is focused solely on Sho fucking Fuwa. Is there anything that she has than can be attributed to her own success? Does she have any skills that can’t be traced back to trying to make Sho happy? Who is Kyoko Mogami? Is she worth anything without Sho? 

And I want to make this clear right now, because I know the term “shoujo” makes people hesitate. THIS is what Skip Beat is about. Kyoko’s journey to find out who she is, and with every new role she takes on and with every experience she gains, she becomes just a little closer to finding out who she is and what she wants for herself. 

We watch as her love for acting slowly eclipses her thirst for revenge. A few arcs after this moment, she is contacted about a job to act in a music PV with none other than Sho himself. In the beginning, she accepts the job in order to prove to Sho that she’s climbing the ladder and catching up to him, but her performance suffers whenever she thinks about her revenge. And what saves her isn’t even putting aside her revenge, but prioritizing her own feelings above it. She wants to act! She wants to put on a good performance! So she needs to put aside those feelings of anger and draw from her past experiences to create a character that leaves Sho in the dust. 

I’m gonna bet y’all are wondering about the romance, though. Because this is a shoujo, and of course it has romance. But hey, guess what? That romance is equally compelling and is an integral part to Kyoko’s character too. In the first....5 or so arcs, Ren Tsuruga ‘s relationship with Kyoko crawls it’s way out of the it’s rocky beginnings, and he slowly becomes a mentor figure to Kyoko. He’s her superior in acting, and she looks to him often for support and guidance when she’s struggling to perform a role or having difficulty with her fellow actors. To Kyoko, Ren is the goal, his level of acting is what she aspires to be, so she can stand on equal footing with him. Before there’s even a whiff of romance between them, there develops a solid bond of trust and support. And once the romance starts. Hoo boy. 

To fully understand why it’s taken 12 years irl for a confession scene to finally take place, we need to bring back the metaphor of Pandora’s box. Because not everything escaped Pandora’s box when it was opened. Pandora was able to shut the box just in time for one thing to stay locked inside: hope. In the myth, this is a good thing, while negative and vile emotions run free, hope still exists within people to become better. But for Kyoko, the box isn’t a safe place, it’s a repressed place. She spent her entire life locking away the negative emotions she felt, placing a smile on her face and hoping for Sho’s happiness. And when those emotions are set lose, she locks the box back up, sealing something else inside. Her hope, her confidence in anything having to do with love. 

It’s not just that Kyoko isn’t in love anymore, she feels as if she can’t be in love anymore, that she’s entirely incapable of it. The idea of falling in love with someone else terrifies her. What if she goes back to the way she was before? An empty shell that exists for other people and not herself. The box has been sealed tightly again, and by God this time she’s not going to let anything open it. And like, I don’t want to spoil much in this, as contradictory as that sounds. Because the scene where she realizes she loves Ren? One of the best fucking scenes in any romance manga ever. 

And. God. I haven’t even touched on her mom. Kyoko’s desire for love, that became so warped under Sho and so desolate after his betrayal, can all stem back to Saena Mogami. A woman who, no matter what Kyoko did, rejected any affection that her child tried to give, and gave none in return. “Even a mother can hate her own child.” We get bits and pieces of what Kyoko’s mother was like, and the environment that a very young Kyoko was raised in before her mother left her in the care of Sho’s parents. And eventually we realize that Kyoko isn’t afraid of her love being rejected twice, but a third time. 

Like, y’all, I’m not good at these kind of essays. I keep wanting to go off on tangents, nothing is ever focused, I spend to much time just reading the manga instead of writing this fucking post. But please believe me when I tell you that Kyoko Mogamis character development is like none other. She’s truly at the top of her genre and it’s an actual crime that she’s so underrated. 

I HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED ABOUT KANAE, THE WEISS TO HER RUBY, THE TSUNDERE TO HER GENKI

Before Kyoko gets even a single arc with Ren, she gets two with Kanae. The first with Kanae as a central figure, and the second where Kanae is her support. She’s the one that gives Kyoko the eureka moment she needs to pull of her performance with Sho. They are one of the most developed and deep friendships in shoujo that I’ve ever seen AND Y’ALL NEED TO STOP SLEEPING ON IT. LOOK AT THESE TWO

And don’t take this poorly assembled post at face value, I’ve left out a lot of shit. Starting with how fucking funny this manga is. Kyoko’s special talent for her LME audition is peeling vegetables, there’s a running gag where Ren asks for her advice while she’s in a giant chicken costume, unaware that it’s her, the president of LME is an eccentric millionaire that likes to dress up in different themed costumes every day and loves throwing extravagant parties, Kyoko’s hobby is making voodoo dolls and talks to a miniature Ren doll whenever she needs encouragement or advice. 

And it’s all packaged alongside some of the most compelling character development I’ve ever seen (for both Kyoko and Ren), and some absolutely heartbreaking drama. You will never know true pain until “I don’t have a daughter.”

Read this, ya’ll. You won’t regret it. 

[soprano193]

Not a Couple

Chapter 9

Maura:

Waking in Paris without Jane was expected. A day earlier, Maura would have thought Jane would wake her, and they'd share a tearful goodbye as she took a taxi to the airport for her early flight. She hadn't expected the turn their last night would take, the way the light reflected off Jane's skin making her glow, her smile warm and inviting. If Maura could have stopped everything at that moment, she would have. Instead, she had kissed Jane, making her run away. Her closest friend ignored her pleas to come back, her hand covering her mouth as she backed away. In the hotel room she slept, her head under the blankets, so Maura couldn't see her face. And in the morning Maura awoke to a note on the pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. It was cryptic. Much with Jane was sometimes hard to understand at first. But now Maura didn't know if she could reach out and get the explanation. She was left feeling lost. She repeated those seven words like a mantra, trying to figure her friend out. In the taxi to the airport. I hope you can forget this someday. While sitting next to the snoring man in the window seat. I hope you can forget this someday. In the silent cab ride to her house. I hope you can forget this someday. And as she unpacked, finding Jane's worn Garciaparra t-shirt wrapped up in her laundry. I hope you can forget this someday. Sitting on her bed, Jane's Red Sox shirt in her hand, Maura let her tears fall. She didn't want to forget.

The next morning, after another fitful night of sleep, she made her way downstairs. Before she had time to process it, she was wrapped in the arms of her pseudo-mother, the Italian woman laughing as she tightened her grip. "Oh Maura, I missed you girls so much!" She pressed a loud kiss to Maura's cheek, making the Doctor smile.

Despite knowing the care behind the gesture, Maura couldn't help but stiffen. She wasn't quite upset enough for the touch to make her skin crawl, but the woman's embrace was enough to make Maura uncomfortable. When Angela let go, Maura felt like she could breathe again. "Hello, Angela! I've missed you, too." Her response was careful, just cheery enough to make Angela happy and not ask any questions.

The older woman beckoned her over to the island, where Maura saw a plate and steaming cup ready. "I made you breakfast and some tea." Sitting, Maura noticed Angela had made her famous bunny pancake, its face complete with a smile that was unnatural for the species, but adorable on a pancake. Angela leaned on the counter across from Maura, watching her with anticipation. Although Maura wasn't interested in eating, she took a bite off the ear, faking a smile in the other woman's direction. Angela seemed to take the bait, relaxing, and wiping the counter. "It's not a fresh croissant with jam, but I thought it was better than nothing."

"Thank you." Maura took another bite and sipped her tea. She tossed another smile at Angela, hoping she looked natural. "Did Jane text you? Did she make it home alright?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Maura's palms began to perspire. That was the wrong question to ask. Thinking on her feet, Maura began to talk. "Well, I was flying when she landed, so I'm sure she wasn't thinking about me."

It took a moment, but Angela began to nod at the explanation. "Makes sense." Maura breathed out as she spoke, thankful for the simple explanation, thankful that she didn't need to get into the longer explanation. Abandoning the towel, Angela leaned forward, the corners of her mouth pulled upward. "So tell me. How was Paris?"

It was the one question she knew was going to come up, but didn't want to answer. Her mind wandered back to Paris, catching Jane's face in the hall of mirrors, or the way her eyes shone in the lights of the Tower at night, laughing with her in the catacombs, and the little moments alone together in their room. Then she heard those words in the back of her mind. I hope you can forget this someday. Looking down at the pancake she didn't want to eat, she answered. "Paris was really fun. Jane told me she sent you pictures."

"Well she did, but she didn't say much."

Sighing, Maura took one last bite of her pancake before pushing her chair back. "Well, I can tell you more later tonight. Right now, I need to head to work. I have to check in with Dr. Drake, and catch up on some of my more official business."

"But you just got home. Can't you take a day to relax?" Maura could hear the dejection in the older woman's voice. As much as she wanted to talk about her vacation with Jane, the memories were so potent and too painful.

"I relaxed for a month. I need to get back to work." Feeling sorry, Maura offered Angela a short hug, trying not to make it feel stiff. "We'll talk later."

True to her word, Maura dressed for work, picking out a blue and white patterned skirt and a navy blouse with ruffles down the front. Saying a final goodbye to her tenant, Maura rushed out the door and headed to her car.

Kent had been efficient in her absence. Their caseload was manageable, the techs had done adequate work, and Maura found only a few instances of speculation. Even her office looked untouched, everything exactly as she remembered it before she left. It bothered her that it brought her comfort. She started by familiarizing herself with the cases she had missed. Listening to Kent's autopsy and going over the evidence presented by Detectives helped her feel like she had actually been there.

She had been listening for an hour when Dr. Drake made his appearance, knocking softly at her door. Waving, he came to stand in front of her desk. "You're back! I thought you'd take a day to reset your internal clock."

"Well, jet lag is easier to overcome when flying west, so I don't think it will be a big deal." She gestured to the couch, feeling more comfortable when both were sitting. "It looks like things went well here. There isn't much I need to address." At his nod, Maura continued. "Thank you for running things to my standards."

"Of course." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, how was Paris?"

"I kissed Jane." She blurted it out before she could stop it, watching the look on his face as she spoke. Excitement, followed by confusion, the same emotions she felt by the whole event. Placing her hands in the middle on her forehead, she slowly moved them outward, slowing her thoughts and grounding her to the present. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you."

"No, it's fine. You don't need to apologize." His words made her sigh out in relief, her posture relaxing. "I'm guessing Jane didn't react well?"

"Jane ran away. I tried to give her space, but she was sleeping when I got back to the room." Or pretending to. Her breathing wasn't as deep as it was when she slept. Maura hadn't pushed it, wanting to give her time to process her thoughts. Pushing would have only made things worse.

"I have to admit, that's not the reaction I thought Jane would have." At Maura's puzzled look, he continued. "I didn't think your feelings were one-sided, just not realized by either party."

"For a few days, I thought the same thing." She remembered all the times she'd caught Jane looking at her over their trip. The hairs on her arm stood up as she remembered her friend calling her gorgeous before their outing to Notre Dame. "I saw the look on her face in the hall of mirrors, her eyes sad, but there was something else there. She didn't take her eyes off me either like she was afraid I was leaving. And I swear, while looking at the stained glass at Notre Dame, she was looking at me when she said it was beautiful." She could still feel Jane's gaze now, boring a hole into her cheek. "But I've never been good with social cues. I must have missed something."

Leaning back into the couch, Kent let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Maura."

She chuckled. "No need to apologize. It's not your fault." She traced the design in her skirt with her finger. "I was thinking. Whenever I don't know what to do in a social situation, I consult Jane. She doesn't judge me, and she explains things in a way I'll understand. This is the one situation where I couldn't consult her, so I'm not surprised that I've messed things up."

Kent's voice was soft, even, his attempt at keeping her calm. "Have you talked to her?" As Maura shook her head, he continued. "Well, you need to. The bond you two share is special. Even if I'm wrong and she doesn't feel the same, I believe you two can work past this."

Maura sat with his words, thinking about them as he stood. Thinking back to Paris, how domestic it had been, how normal their proximity felt, Maura wasn't sure she wanted to go back to just friendship. But considering the alternative led to the absence of Jane in her life, friendship was something she could settle on. Nodding, she addressed Kent as he left her office. "Thank you."

Back at home, she tried to return to some version of normalcy. With a plate of Angela's leftover risotto and a glass of wine, Maura settled at the table to read a medical journal. The only indication of the time changing was the steady emptying of her wine glass, and she was surprised when she heard the door open and close, signaling the end of Angela's shift. "Good! You're still awake!" She dropped her purse on the island and wrapped Maura in another tight embrace. Considering her chat earlier with Kent, Maura was feeling a bit better than she had been that morning and welcomed the contact with more ease.

"Would you like a glass? I've already had one." Maura pointed to the open bottle of wine still on the counter.

"No thanks. I'm meeting Ron for breakfast tomorrow." She did however get herself a glass of water, facing Maura from across the island. "So, tell me more about Paris. Did you two go to the Louvre?"

Maura swallowed, taking a moment to push her feelings for Jane to the side. She then smiled, remembering the artwork. "We did. I always seem to find something new that I like there each visit. This time I fell in love with the Lamassu."

Before she could start talking about the sheer age and condition of the statues, Angela interrupted, severing Maura's train of thought. "Did you see the Mona Lisa? Or the statue with no arms? I was so surprised that the Mona Lisa was so small."

Maura laughed. "We did. And Jane deduced that the Venus de Milo might have been dancing the hula."

This got Angela laughing. "Did she now?" So Maura decided to pull out her phone and look for the picture. She realized at once it was a bad idea. Scrolling through all those photos of Jane made compartmentalization much more difficult. When she found the picture, she passed the phone to Angela, who chuckled, her eyes tearing up. "I miss her." She began to flip through more pictures, and Maura was relieved that the last few they took were on Jane's phone and not hers. "It looks like you two had fun." She said it as she passed the phone back to Maura, her eyes searching the Doctor's face like she could see what Maura was hiding. It made her uncomfortable.

"We did." Standing with her plate and empty wine glass, she began to clean up her mess. "I hate to rush out on you again, but you have an early morning, and my body still doesn't know what time it is, so I'm finding myself tired."

Angela put her glass down, taking Maura's plate and shooing her away. "Don't worry, honey, I've got this. You go get some rest."

"Thank you. See you in the morning." Maura waited for the older woman's soft smile before leaving the room, walking up to her bedroom. Before changing, she sat on her bed and opened her phone, clicking on the familiar contact and typing out a quick message. Your Mom told me you arrived home safely. I hope things go well at Quantico. She placed her phone on the nightstand and changed into Jane's Red Sox shirt, climbing between the covers when done. Her phone chimed. Sorry I didn't let you know. I'm glad you're home safe. It was distant still, but it made Maura hopeful. Hopeful that they would again speak like they used to.

Maura was awoken early by a call to a crime scene. In a way, it was a relief that she wouldn't have to face Angela again in the morning. She also enjoyed the return to some sort of normalcy after a month away. The familiar hustle of a crime scene was oddly comforting. As she was let past the red tape, she took a cursory look as to what was inside. A woman, maybe thirty years of age, lying facedown on the living room floor, a large red puddle underneath her. About twenty feet away marked with a yellow placard, lay a handgun. Another young woman with dark hair cried in the corners near while talking to a uniformed officer. Nodding at them both, Maura knelt beside the victim. Brushing her dark hair aside, she saw bruising on the sides of her neck. Moving her shirt, she noticed the marks went down her back. Her heart fell as the story started to piece together.

"Detective Rizzoli." Someone said it in greeting, and Maura felt her breath hitch as she looked for the curly-haired woman. It shouldn't have surprised her to see Frankie instead, a redhead in plainclothes following right behind him. Pushing her disappointment to the side, Maura smiled and waved at the confidant man entering the crime scene.

"Maura! You're back!" He grinned, touching her shoulder as she remained crouched. "How was Paris?"

"Beautiful, as always." It was the answer she had rehearsed the whole way over, She stood, shedding her gloves and offering the man a hug. "How have things been here in Boston?"

"Business as usual." Turning, he waved his hand, urging the redhead closer. "Dr. Isles, this is my new partner, Detective Hyde."

She reached forward and grasped Maura's hand, her grip firm. "It's nice to meet you, Dr, Isles. Frank and Nina have told me all about you."

"Please, call me Maura. It's nice to meet you too, Detective Hyde."

The woman smiled, warmth shining through her bright blue eyes. "Linn. Short for Linnet."

Letting go of Linn's hand, Maura pulled out two new gloves from her pockets. "Pretty name, Welsh I believe?" The woman nodded, a knowing grin on her face. "It suits you." She bent down again, feeling the joints and examining the body. As she made her observations, she addressed the more senior detective. "Have you started wedding planning?"

Frankie chuckled at that, pulling out his phone. "Nina and her sisters have all that covered. They even made me a checklist, see?" He scrolled through an exhausting number of tasks to complete. "Nina wants to wait for Thanksgiving to go dress shopping. She wants to give Jane the chance to join."

"That's nice." Her answer was short. If Frankie realized, he didn't say anything or just thought she was busy with her observations.

"Don't tell her, but Nina wants her to be a bridesmaid."

For a moment, Maura pictured Jane standing next to Nina, a burgundy red dress hugging her curves, her hair in neat curls hanging by her shoulders. Maura had to fight to push the daydream away, reminding herself that she had a job to do. She looked up at Frankie, flashing him a reassuring look. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

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Work brought Maura a sense of relief. After a month off, she had a lot of managerial tasks and business to attend to, things Kent was not able to handle in his position. And it may have been wrong, but Maura began using work as a way to stay away from Angela. After a few days of dodging every question about Paris she asked, Maura found it was easier to work late on Angela's nights off or go to bed early when the older woman came home, citing an early day the next morning. This bought her a few more days avoiding questions. Now she only hoped that the interest would wear off.

After a week of being back, one day after work Maura fired up her fireplace and settled on the couch with a medical journal on her iPad and a cup of tea on the side table. Angela, who wasn't supposed to be home until late into the night, surprised her by plopping onto the couch next to her, holding out an envelope. "For you."

Her pseudo-mother looked serious, her face stoic, piquing the Doctor's interest. Inside she found two checks for nine-hundred dollars. She felt her eyebrows pull closer, and she studied the brunette sitting beside her. "Why are you giving me two months' worth of rent?"

"Ron's taking me on a road trip. I wanted to make sure you had next month's rent before I leave."

Shaking her head, Maura handed back one of the checks. "Angela, if you aren't going to be here, you don't need to pay."

"Nonsense." Angela was firm, placing the check back in Maura's lap. "Any other apartment would still charge me rent."

Maura held the check in her hand, her thumb spinning in circles at the top corner. Angela wanted to do this. She had almost left because she wanted to do this, to feel like she was self-sufficient. So swallowing her worry, Maura accepted the check, placing it back in the envelope with its twin. Looking back at the older woman, who was now beaming, Maura offered her a smile. "So, when do you leave?"

"In the morning. He won't tell me the destination, but he promised that we could spend time in DC so I could visit with Jane." If she noticed the stiffening of the Doctor at the mention of her best friend, she didn't say anything. "I actually can't chat for long, I have to finish packing." She gestured to the door behind her.

Nodding, Maura closed the cover of her iPad. "I should go to bed soon anyway. I have to drive to Worcester in the morning to interview candidates for Dr. Pike's position."

"You finally fired that guy?" Angela laughed, standing from the couch.

"Goodness, no. I can't stand him, but I had no reason to fire him." Maura stood, following her housemate to the door. "His wife got her dream job in Oklahoma, so they're moving."

"Well, I hope you find someone good."

"Me too." She opened the door. "Have a nice trip, Angela, I'll see you when you get back."

The woman surprised her again, wrapping her up in her arms, squeezing tight, her mouth right next to Maura's ear. "You know I love you, right?" At Maura's affirmative answer, her arms resting lightly around the woman's waist, she continued. "And you can talk to me about anything, even when I'm not here. Whenever you're ready."

At those words, Maura felt tears stinging in her eyes which she fought to keep from falling. Somehow she knew. This wasn't a surprise, but it helped to know that Angela didn't think any less of her. "I know. Thank you." Before pulling away, Angela pressed a kiss to Maura's cheek, the move maternal and completely natural to her. She offered a small smile before leaving through the door, allowing Maura to close it behind her.

Sitting on her bed, Maura sent another text. Your mother is leaving for a road trip tomorrow. She says she's going to visit you. As she changed into her own pajamas, Jane's shirt folded on top of her dresser, her phone chimed, alerting her to a response. Yeah. It will be nice to see a familiar face. Resting her head on her pillow, she typed, erased, and typed again until she figured out how to say best what she wanted to. I can always make time for a video chat if you need to see a familiar face. Satisfied, she sent it, putting her phone on her nightstand and rolling over, letting herself drift off to sleep.

The next morning she awoke, seeing a response from the previous night. I know, Maura. I'll keep that in mind.

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After another week of catching up, Maura's backed up work began to subside and she started seeing patients at MEND again. It was more work that she was grateful for, as it kept her out of her quiet apartment, and kept her mind occupied. More often, she was opting out of the nightly meet up at The Dirty Robber with the crew, and instead found herself examining increasingly difficult cases for the patients at MEND.

After a week of double duty, she was thrilled one day when they could wrap a case early and she could unwind at home. Saying goodbye to the Detectives, and forwarding her final report, she took a moment to enjoy the crisp air before making her way inside her home. Once inside, for the first time since returning from her trip, she found herself perusing her manuscript. Sitting at the island with a bottle of water, she refamiliarized herself with the story, and what she planned to do to improve it. Soon, Maura began to write, expanding her universe and trying to give her characters more depth.

It wasn't long before a knock at her front door interrupted her work. Maura glanced down at her phone, looking for a clue as to whom it could be. Closing the laptop, she went to answer the door. "Nina! What a lovely surprise." The Detective was still dressed for work, her badge hooked to her hip. She carried with her a pink box about the size of a shoebox. Moving aside, Maura allowed her friend to enter.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced." She moved to lean against the island, depositing the box on the counter beside her. "I feel like I don't see you anymore."

With a guilty grimace, Maura clasped her hands in front of her. "I had a lot to catch up on after my trip. And MEND needs more help, especially with Hope overseeing the shortage of providers overseas, but when things calm down I'll…"

"Maura! It's okay, we understand." The younger woman's voice was forceful, stopping Maura's rambling. "I didn't mean to send you spiraling." She traced her fingers over the pink box. "I've just had this in my car for the last two weeks, waiting for the right time to give it to you."

Pointing, hesitant, Maura inched closer. "That's for me?"

Nina edged the box toward the Doctor. "Open it." Though confused, Maura closed the space between herself and the box and opened it. Pink tissue paper filled the empty space. Inside she found a small bottle of champagne, a silver necklace with a high-heeled shoe charm, and a glass candle jar, silver-grey lettering spelling out the word, 'bridesmaid'. Nina's smile was wide as Maura examined each item, unsure of what to say. The younger woman, thankfully, knew how to break the silence as Maura looked between her and the box. "So I'll take that as a yes?"

"Of course!" Maura leaned in at that moment, wrapping the shorter woman in her arms, delighted when she reciprocated. "I'm so honored you thought of me."

Pulling away, dark eyes met Maura's, their tone serious, but her face joyful. "Please, Maura. You welcomed me into your life with open arms. You made Boston feel like home." She giggled. "Plus, you're my karaoke buddy."

"Oh, I don't think I want to do that again. I'm not sure of the efficacy it had on my neural pathways."

Laughing, Nina pulled away from the counter, making Maura turn to face her. "You have to do it at least once!"

"I don't think I have to."

Nina pushed her lip out, pouting. "Not even for the bride?"

Maura hadn't been in a lot of weddings. In fact, she hadn't been in one. But she knew that historically, what the bride asked for, the bride got. With a shocked gasp, she cried out, "That's not fair!"

"I know!" Nina's laughter could only be described as maniacal, cackling as she walked toward the door. Maura moved with her, to see her out. Before Maura opened the door, Nina turned to look at her, face now serious, dark eyes kind. "You know, you need to maintain a healthy work/life balance. I understand needing to catch up, or fill in while Dr. Martin is away. But please, join us at the Dirty Robber at some point. We know that none of us are Jane, but we can still have fun."

Maura knew that her words intended to comfort her, but instead, they stung. Nina had seen through the charade. Hanging out with her friends meant acknowledging that things had changed. Maura didn't adapt well to change. With a reserved nod at the Detective, Maura opened the door to see her out. "I will try to make an appearance as soon as Hope is back in the states."

"I'd like that. Take care, Maura."

Maura waved before closing the door behind her friend. Checking the time, she took a moment to put the bottle of champagne away. Before leaving, she smelled the candle, an interesting mix of lavender and wild ginger, put her computer away, and attempted to push the image of both her and Jane standing up at the altar together out of her mind.

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It was a few days later during one of her rare days off that her birth mother's face flashed on her screen. "Hello?"

"Maura! How are you? How was your vacation?"

"I'm good. It was nice." Almost a month later, and the sting of the last few hours was still harsh. But it was easier to ignore as she thought back on happier memories. "How is Morocco?"

"Busy. I must admit, that is why I'm calling."

"Go on."

"Well, there's still a shortage of providers, and a nasty outbreak of influenza keeps us fully booked each day. It looks like I need to delay my trip home another two weeks."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Maura sat at her island, a notepad handy. "How can I help?"

"It's a bit of an odd request, I'm afraid." Maura could hear background noise decrease, as if Hope had stepped into an office. "Do you remember me mentioning opening another clinic in the United States in DC?" At Maura's hum of acknowledgment, she continued. "This great property just opened up. I planned to go see the site on Saturday when I returned. But now I'm stuck here, and I'm worried someone else will make an offer before I even get back to the States."

It took Maura a minute to register what she was asking. "So you want me to meet with the realtor?"

"Could you? Do you have the time? The only other person I trust is Cailin, and she's busy with class. I know you wouldn't steer me wrong. I can pay for your hotel, and get your ticket."

"I have miles. You don't need to buy my ticket."

Hope let out a sigh on the other end of the phone. "Maura, I can't thank you enough for doing this."

"It's no problem. I needed an excuse to go to DC anyway." Her mind drifted to Jane's t-shirt, still folded on top of her dresser.

"Thank you. I'll email you all the details, along with a list of questions to ask, feel free to ask your own if you think of any." Maura heard muffled voices in the background. "I need to go now, my next appointment is here."

"Okay. Stay safe, and I'll see you when you get home." When the call ended, Maura stopped what she was doing and went upstairs to pack. She wouldn't let a last-minute trip leave her unprepared. She planned on three days, pulling out outfits for each day. She grabbed her smaller suitcase, one suitable for the overhead bins, and placed it on the bed. The first thing she packed was Jane's Garciaparra shirt. It gave her a reason to visit, hopefully showing Jane that life was better off when they were on speaking terms.

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Her flight on Saturday left at eight in the morning, getting her in the Capital around 10. After waiting around for her rental car, she had only a few minutes to refresh in her hotel room before rushing out to meet the realtor.

The property was nice, a square building with plenty of parking surrounding it. Maura noticed several bus stops along the way that meant it would be accessible to people who relied on public transportation. She parked in a spot behind the two cars, figuring one was the realtor. The other car was idling. Upon exiting her vehicle, the voice she heard made her eyes go wide. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!" Unable to believe what she was hearing, Maura walked in front of her vehicle to glance between the two that she was parked behind. Angela leaned against the white car, her eyes looking down at her phone. Jane, with her curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, stood at the door of the idling car, her hand on the handle.

"Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?" Maura could feel her eyebrows furrowing as she took in the sight before her.

Angela reacted fast, her mouth dropping open, as she moved to hug the Doctor. "Maura! What are you doing here?" She wrapped the blonde in a tight grip, her face now hidden from view. But Maura was more interested in Jane's reaction.

Jane watched her Mother, her eyes flickering with anger, her mouth slightly ajar. She thought something was up. But as she looked at Maura, her expression softened, anger was replaced with worry. She flashed a shy smile that made Maura's stomach flip. "Hi, Maur. Fancy meeting you here. In this random parking lot."

Maura stepped back, making Angela pull away. Gesturing toward the empty building, Maura addressed the older woman first. "Hope sent me here. She wants me to look at this office, and determine if it's a good spot for another MEND clinic." Turning to address Jane, she continued. "I was going to call you after my showing."

"You don't have to explain yourself."

"It's not an explanation, it's the truth." While others may have been surprised by Maura's blunt reply, Jane didn't blink, and answered with a nod. Encouraged by this, Maura continued. "My plane landed two hours ago. Hope called me just a few days ago. None of this was well planned, so I wanted to call you when I was settled."

The brunette nodded, shoulders relaxing. "I believe you. Sorry."

Next to her, Angela typed away at her phone, typing in an address to her phone's GPS. "Jane! Ron said he found a store with a new GPS. It's straight down this road, I can't miss it." She put her phone in her pocket and walked over to her daughter, wrapping her in a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Jane pulled away from the contact, her face scrunched and her eyes narrowed as her mother made her escape. "I need to go get it, he said there's only one left and I don't want someone else to buy it first."

"Ma, I drove here to get you. You're just gonna leave me?" Jane held her hands open, waiting for an explanation.

"You're not alone! You have Maura!" She opened her door. "We can get dinner, and I can see your new apartment tomorrow."

Jane sighed, crossing her arms. "Okay. Drive safe, Ma."

As Angela began to pull out of the parking lot, a red SUV pulled in. Maura gestured to it. "That's probably my guy."

Jane hesitated for a moment as if deciding what to say. "Yeah. So you're busy. Maybe we can do something tomorrow." She reached for her handle again.

"Jane, wait." The last time Maura had said those words, Jane ran. This time, she stopped, turning once more to face the Doctor. "Why don't you come in with me. I can't see this taking long, and I would love to grab lunch after. You know the good places to eat around here."

"What makes you think that?" Her tone was hesitant, but she wore a faint smile on the corner of her lips. Maura longed to turn the faint smile into an overt one, even just for a moment.

"Please. It's been a month. Your fridge ratio is probably seventy-thirty take out containers to fresh food."

This made the Instructor laugh, and Maura could feel some of the tension between them release. "You still know me so well."

Maura laughed along with her, letting the tension clear and relishing in the sound. It had been too long. "Of course I do. We haven't changed." She hoped the message was clear. Nothing had to change.

Whether Jane found it comforting was unclear. The taller woman nodded, eyes downcast. "I guess we haven't." She reached for the car door again, this time opening it, leaning in, and turning the car off. She pocketed her keys and gave the Doctor a curt nod. With a wave of her arms, she gestured toward the building and the waiting man. "After you."

The man was shorter in stature, dark skin, and black hair, but he seemed friendly enough as they approached. "Dr. Isles?" At her nod, he continued, thrusting out his hand. "Dave Ganem, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. This is my friend, Jane. She's going to join us for the viewing. Do you mind if I record this? It will make things easier when I have to send my recommendations to my M… To Dr. Martin." She wondered if he caught the label she almost dropped, one she still wasn't sure how she felt about Hope using. A glance in Jane's direction told her she had caught on, her eyes soft with a dimpled grin. It made Maura's stomach flip again, and she tried to remember if she'd had this reaction every time Jane had given her that same look.

Mr. Ganem's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Of course not. Feel free to take videos and photographs, too." Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the doors and led them inside. "Let's get started."

The building must have been used once already for medical purposes. There were fifteen dedicated exam rooms, a few rooms large enough for some imaging equipment, and three dedicated office spaces. Maura discovered that they were a twenty-minute drive away from a hospital, that the previous owners had decided to retire, and that the area received a lot of foot traffic. She had Jane and Mr. Ganem have a conversation in one exam room while trying to listen from the other room, noting that she could not make it out. Considering how loud she knew her friend could be, this was a pro in her mind. Aside from the electrical issue with the fan in the bathroom, all the building needed was a fresh coat of paint.

"Thank you, Mr. Ganem. I will have Dr. Martin review all of this, but I'm sure she'll be in touch." She shook his hand and offered him a warm smile.

"I look forward to it. It was so nice to meet you both." While shaking hands with Jane, he gave her a knowing look. "The Yankees are going all the way this year."

Jane chuckled, and Maura imagined she squeezed his hand a little harder. "In your dreams, pal."

They both laughed as they pulled away from each other, Jane's head shaking as she turned to walk toward their cars. Her hand fell to the small of Maura's back as they walked, the touch sending shivers up Maura's spine. She longed to lean back into it, to reciprocate somehow, but words started flashing in her head. I hope you can forget this someday. Afraid to scare Jane as she was becoming more comfortable, Maura opted to continue as if she hadn't noticed. "Of course you two discussed sports."

"Well, you put me in a room with a guy I don't know and ask me to talk to him about something. What did you expect?"

"I guess you have a point." Maura giggled, shaking her head. As they walked, her stomach let out an audible growl. "I haven't eaten since I had that Danish at Logan."

Stopping at her car, Jane dropped her hand from Maura's back and started playing with her keys in her other hand. "Okay. We're right down the road from Black Market." Maura couldn't help but imagine a dark alley with people selling food dressed in trenchcoats. Jane must have registered the puzzled expression because she clarified with a snort. "It's a bar, Maur. It reminds me of home."

"Oh! That makes sense. Okay, I'll follow you."

They parked next to each other at the bar. Maura took a moment to shoot Hope a text, saying to jump on the place, and that more info would come later. Jane waited by the car until she was done, and then led the way up the walkway and into the building.

Maura understood why Black Market reminded Jane of home. The set up was very similar to the Dirty Robber. The lighting was dim, booths were set up along the windows, the bar itself was long. Instead of nautical decorations, the ones here seemed to be focused on police and FBI memorabilia. Jane picked the seat that would have been their booth back home. As Maura looked over the menu, Jane ordered their drinks. "It's a nice place."

"It's far enough away from campus that I don't usually see recruits here."

"It's more than that." She put down the menu, having decided what to eat, and took the opportunity to look Jane in the eye. "It's familiar. I mean, you chose our spot."

Jane's mouth perked up on one side at that comment. "You noticed."

"How could I miss it?" It seemed like Jane wasn't sure what to say, as she played with the napkin that wrapped up her silverware. So Maura decided to pull the conversation along. "How is Quantico?"

"I like it a lot more than I thought I would." They paused to order food, and for Maura to butter up a bread roll to calm her growling stomach. "Right now I'm mostly observing. Which I'm thankful for, considering I've never taught, but a few instructors have allowed me to teach some modules, and it's amazing."

"You have taught. You taught Frankie everything he knows."

Jane snorted, grabbing a roll and taking a bite before answering. "I taught Frankie a lot. But he was a group effort. How is he doing?"

"He seems to be doing well. His new partner, Hyde, is different."

"Different how?" Jane leaned forward with anticipation.

"She's soft. Her face is soft, her demeanor is warm, she's even soft-spoken." Thinking back to the squad room a few months ago, Linnet Hyde varied in every possible way from the people who had left. "It's not bad per se, but it is amusing to watch her try to play mean cop while Frankie is being nice cop."

"You mean good cop/bad cop?"

With a scoff, Maura took the correction. "Yes. You know what I mean." They continued their conversations through their meal, both skirting around any mention of Paris with apparent ease. Jane reminded Maura to work less and connect with people, showing that she had been in touch with people from back home, and they had talked about her. Maura asked about her new workout routine now that she wasn't chasing down criminals. And Jane filled her in on the few new friends she was making, some instructors and a neighbor. Jane picked up the tab, despite Maura's protestations, and they remained seated, neither ready to leave. "I've missed this." Maura began carefully, testing things out, wondering if Jane was ready for a bigger conversation. "Talking to you, I mean."

"Yeah." Jane's eyes went downward again, the Instructor avoiding the Doctor's gaze. "I think this is the longest we've gone without speaking."

"I think you're right." Their fight after the Doyle shooting had only lasted about ten days and had been agonizing. Things had been said on both sides then, things said in anger, that both were too stubborn to apologize for. Now things needed to be said. Watching as Jane played with the condensation on the outside of her cup, her refusal to meet Maura's eye, Maura backed off. "Let's not let it get like this again." She reached for her friend's hand, making her look up, and Maura flashed her a smile meant to reassure. "Can we agree to at least weekly Skype calls?"

Jane squeezed her hand back, making her stomach flip for the third time that day. "I think I can fit you into my schedule."

Walking back to their cars, Maura prepared herself to say goodbye. But a glimpse at Jane's Red Sox keychain reminded her of the Garciaparra shirt in her bag. "I have something that belongs to you!" She blurted, making Jane's eyes grow wide with amusement. "It's at my hotel."

Glancing at her watch, Jane played with her keys in her hand. "I have time. I'll follow you."

The ride to the hotel took longer, with it situated just outside the city. And Jane parked further away, so Maura had to wait at the door. She didn't seem like she was in a rush, typing on her phone as she walked. As she slipped her phone in her pocket, she followed Maura through the lobby and into the elevator. She was close, as close as they had been leaving the medical office, but this time her hand wasn't in the small of Maura's back. The Doctor began to wonder if it was normal to crave that contact.

Her hotel room was on the fourth floor, two doors down from the elevator, a real convenient spot. She opened the door with her room key and held the door open, inviting Jane in. "It's still in my bag. I think it got mixed in with my laundry in Paris." She began digging through her bag, knowing it was underneath the rest of her belongings. "I was going to return it at Thanksgiving. But this trip presented me with a different option." Grasping the cotton shirt, She turned with a triumphant grin to had it to the waiting Instructor.

Jane's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped as she unfolded it and looked at the number on the back. "Nomah!"

"I don't think that's english."

Jane laughed, a grateful smile gracing her lips as she ran her fingers over the shirt. "No, it's Nomar. His first name, but you have to say it with your most obnoxious Boston accent. It's like a rule or something." Placing the shirt down on the table, she faced Maura and met her eyes, her smile soft and warm. "I've been looking for that shirt. Thank you, Maur." And then Jane pulled her into a hug.

Long arms wrapped around her, and Maura swore she stopped breathing. Jane's hair tickled the side of her face, and Maura had to stop picturing what it would be like to run her fingers through Jane's wild mane. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle brought a sense of warmth that she wasn't anticipating. And yet all she could think of were those words. I hope you can forget this someday. So instead of reciprocating, Maura stiffened.

Jane realized it after about four seconds, backing away, her head down. "Um. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She allowed Maura to back up, Which she did until her calves met the back of an armchair. Sitting, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, wondering when her cheeks had become wet. Jane looked at her when she heard the noise. Maura was nervous she'd run again, or that the progress they'd made earlier would be negated. Instead, Jane sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Maura, I'm sorry. Please don't cry."

She didn't stop. Though she found it ironic that the one person who truly helped her feel better when she cried, was now the cause of it. Taking steadying breaths, she allowed herself to ask the question that had been plaguing her for a month. "What did you want me to forget?"

Brown eyes grew wide with recognition, the grimace in her face and the way she shrunk indicating that she was ashamed. "I didn't mean…"

"I mean, I've been saying those words over and over in my head all month trying to figure it out. Because I don't want to forget Paris. We had so much fun, and did so much laughing, and I felt like our relationship grew in response. And I can't forget you, Jane. You're in most of my happiest memories, you've been there during the worst parts of my life, and you're a person I picture still being around in my future. The thought of forgetting you is unbearable, Jane." That particular interpretation of the note was her biggest fear, the one her mind liked to tell her was most likely.

"I don't want that." Jane's voice sounded small, without it's usual gravitas, but she straightened her shoulders as she spoke. It showed some confidence in her words.

"Well, we went almost a month without communication, you can't blame me for thinking that."

"I know. But that's not what I meant." She looked away, her hands folded on her knees. Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out, she continued. "I wanted you to forget the kiss." The kiss. Maura didn't think she ever would. The lamplight that lit up her face in such a beautiful way, the river lapping in the background, the way they fit together perfectly, the feel of Jane's hands on her hips, how she felt like she was on fire, how suddenly everything made sense. Every moment of that kiss she wanted to remember forever. Jane's voice in the room pulled her back to the present. "I wanted you to forget being ashamed."

This made Maura's eyebrows knot together, her gaze focusing on the profile of Jane's face. "What makes you think I was ashamed?"

Jane's eyes rolled as she met Maura's gaze. "I'm a cop, Maura, I know what shame looks like. You looked down and away from me. You covered part of your face. You were ashamed."

Maura thought back to that night, remembering the immediate aftermath, the disappointed anguish flashing in Jane's eyes. "I wasn't ashamed of you." She met Jane's gaze for those words, hopeful that she would believe them. "I was ashamed of myself."

"Why in the world would you be ashamed of yourself?"

"For a number of reasons. First and foremost, you were romantically linked to someone else."

This made Jane scoff. "You were ashamed because of Davies?" Maura chuckled as she nodded, letting go of the tension in her body. "Let me clear that up for you. Davies texted me once before we left, and then I accidentally ignored him for a month. Toward the end of that month, I realized it wasn't gonna work between the two of us. Which only became more obvious once I locked lips with you."

Maura's stomach twisted in knots. "I didn't want to be the cause of that."

"It would have happened whether we kissed or not. I would have had the same problems with him that I had with Casey. Or Dean."

"Gabriel." Maura had to laugh as Jane cringed. The brunette joined in the laughter, and Maura could feel the unease begin to lift from the air between them. "Can I admit something to you?"

"At this point, I think you can tell me anything." She sat straighter on the edge of the bed, turning to face the blonde, giving her full attention.

Now it was Maura's turn to look away, afraid of how her words would be received. "It was a few months ago that I realized that my feelings for you went deeper than a normal friendship. Paris was harder on me than I thought it would be. Everything we did was so domestic, and it made me start thinking of how things could be all the time." She looked up briefly, finding the Instructor still looking at her, her eyes filled with adoration. Finding it too much, Maura looked away again. "I also realized a few months ago that if I acted on my feelings it would change everything. So that night, when I kissed you, I was ashamed at myself, for going back on my promise, and for working against my own self interests. I didn't want to change anything." She looked up to see Jane biting back her lips, like she was holding something in. Maura offered a shy smile, and began running her finger over the pattern on the armchair. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"So I guess it's my turn." The brunette was abrupt, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "At some point in Paris, I realized that things weren't going to work out between between me and Davies because I was falling for you." As Jane spoke, Maura looked at her, her peripheral vision going blank as she focused. "Like, really falling, Maura. I kept getting jealous of the husband you don't have." It was the laughter sob that revealed to Maura that she was crying again as she listened to her best friend speak, and she delighted in the smile that graced the brunette's face. "So when we kissed, I thought things between us were changing, and then when I saw your face, I was upset. And I reacted badly to that. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry for that."

Maura nodded accepting the apology and taking it all in. After a long pause between the two of them, Maura asked the question at the forefront of her mind. "Do you still want things to change between us?"

Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. "Are you being serious?" At Maura's nod, a huge dimpled grin stretched wide across her face. "Yeah, I want things to change. Do you?"

Maura felt her breath hitch. "I would be amenable to that."

It wasn't even all the way out of her mouth before Jane was moving, closing the space between them. She cupped Maura's face in her hands and brought their lips crashing together, her fingers coming up to wipe tears from Maura's face. It was a move laced with such adoration and intimacy that Maura almost added more to her cheeks. Jane moved from her lips, peppering kisses down her jaw and along her cheek. She stopped briefly to whisper in Maura's ear, sending shivers down her spine. "All these years, and I still can't get a simple yes or no?"

Her hands on Jane's waist, she pulled down so she was sitting on her lap. "Yes." She husked into Jane's ear before peppering kisses down into her neck. She used her hands to pull out Jane's ponytail, finally allowing herself to run her fingers through her dark hair. Jane took advantage of her new position to run her fingers over Maura's back. Maura imagined this was what it felt like for every neuron in her body to fire at once. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't electrified by Jane's touch, buy the brush of Jane's lips, by the sounds she was making as she gave in to her inhibitions.

Maura was upset she had to stop them, saying Jane's name a few times with some force. "I hate to bring this up right now of all times, but aren't you supposed to meet your mother for dinner?"

Jane chuckled, her grin seductive. "I rescheduled in the parking lot. Told her we were catching up." Her hands slid under Maura's blouse, touching bare skin and sending a new wave of pleasure through her body. "I did not tell her that we were catching up on eight years of missed opportunity."

"That's probably wise." Maura chuckled, launching back at Jane's lips.

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

Maura woke to a languid kiss, a hand caressing her bare hip. Reaching for her lover, she was disappointed to find her clothed. "Where are you off to?"

"Breakfast with my Mother and Ron. And I have to bring her by the apartment."

Maura sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. "Give me a minute, I can get dressed."

But Jane sat on the bed, taking her hands and drawing all Maura's attention to her. "Not this time, Maura." She must have seen the hurt that she tried to hide, because a hand came up to her cheek, running down it in a soothing motion. "Not that I'm ashamed. I'm not. I just wanna keep this between us for a bit. It's special."

"It is." Maura agreed, yawning. "But I can keep it a secret."

Jane smiled, that big dopey smile that made Maura's heart melt. "It's not you I'm worried about. It's me." She leaned in, landing another slow yet hungry kiss. She pulled away, biting her lip. "I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you."

"That could be revealing." Maura laughed, the sound breathy as she allowed herself to wake, adjusting to her new reality. She pulled Jane in again, reveling in the pull in her gut as their lips met, Jane's moan setting her aflame. But she soon pulled away, muttering apologies, her hand lingering on Maura's face longer than necessary.

"I'll text you when I'm done. You can come over, we can order takeout, it will be like old times."

Maura grinned. "No. It'll be better."

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

"Jane, is Thanksgiving really the best day to make this announcement?" They were lying in Maura's bed, naked, Jane typing away at her phone, seemingly oblivious to Maura's gaze.

"Thanksgiving is the day that we tell people what we're thankful for. What better day is there to say that I am thankful for my brilliant and incredibly gorgeous girlfriend?" She looked over then, her grin dimpled as she studied Maura's face.

"And you want to do it like this? A Facebook post to reveal the secret we've been keeping for the last five weeks?"

She thought about it for a moment, searching Maura's face like she was gauging her reaction. "I figured why not? Just rip off the Band-aid."

Looking her girlfriend over, she pulled away the covers, searching for something that had been unseen. "What Band-aid? Jane, what did you do?"

Instead of the answer she was looking for, the body in front of her began to shake with laughter. "Babe, it's an expression. I don't have a Band-aid." Maura couldn't help but laugh along with her, climbing back up to cuddle beside her. "It means that I think we should get it all done at once, instead of telling people sporadically."

"Oh." Her hands traced circles in Jane's toned stomach, her head rested on her shoulder.

"Is that okay with you?"

Maura went through the people in her life that needed to know. Most of them were connected to Jane in some way or another. The only ones who weren't were her parents. Her Mother was in Italy, working with someone on her next installation, and her Father was back in Africa, doing research on more indigenous tribes. It wasn't fair to put off the announcement so she could tell them in person. Grabbing her phone, She nodded. "Yes. As long as it's what you want."

Jane grinned, hitting the button to change their status, and Maura accepted the notification on her end. Jane took that time to change her profile picture. Maura had never seen it. The picture they took on the bridge, with Jane looking at the camera, but Maura looking adoringly at her face. "You were right, the lighting and everything that night made for a gorgeous photo."

"That wasn't the only reason I thought it would be gorgeous." Jane shot back, flashing that lopsided grin.

Their phones buzzed, the first comment from Frankie. Fucking finally! They shared a laugh at that, Jane shooting back with, Language, Francesco!

Dropping her phone on the nightstand, Jane rolled over, pulling the Doctor closer. Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, she grinned. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving." Maura relished this, just being together. It was a long weekend, which meant Jane could visit longer, but she would still have her job to return to Monday morning. Maura was finding herself growing tired of the back and forth, but was hopeful that their plan would be put into action soon. With just a few loose ends to tie up today, she hoped the day when they could lie together like this every morning would come soon.

It wasn't long before their bliss was interrupted. She heard the door slam downstairs, Angela's hurried footsteps pounding on the floor. She stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Girls! Get down here, you have some explaining to do!"

Beside her, Jane giggled. "That took longer than I expected." She pulled herself from Maura's grip, rummaging in the suitcase she hadn't unpacked. While Maura found a pair of sensible silk pajamas to put on, Jane yanked on an FBI t-shirt and a pair of BPD sweatpants. Maura couldn't help but laugh at the pair of them. Yin and Yang, different as could be, but so perfect together. "You ready to face the music?"

She went up on her toes to press a kiss to the brunette's lips. "We can get through this."

"And if it gets bad, we have wine." This made them both laugh, holding hands as Jane turned toward the door.

It was then that Maura noticed the three words on the back of the shirt, the one purchased at the airport months ago. Female Boob Inspector. "Jane!" She hissed. "You can't wear that shirt downstairs!"

With a devilish grin, Jane shrugged her shoulders. "Well, it's kinda true now." Without waiting for a response, the brunette opened the door and rushed down the hall, shouting, "coming, Ma!"

Maura was definitely going to need wine.

[artificialqueens]

Little Lights [Chapter 1] (Trixya) - mrgtmcs

A/N: Hi pals, this is a first time post from a longtime lurker.  This will be a canon-compliant multichapter because now I have invested myself.  I fully wrote this on my flight to Israel and was half asleep so apologies in advance.  Also also, I promise 

The music in the venue started to fade, and Katya had already walked offstage, holding heels in one hand.  He tiptoes back to the dressing room, sliding past the propped open door.

“Hello,” Trixie practically sang as he spun around in one of the chairs. 

“That was awful,” Katya responded, grabbing at his curly blonde wig and sliding it off his head. “No.  Worse than awful.  Deplorable.”

Trixie tried to stifle a laugh.  “Alright, drama queen, calm down.”

Katya was rapidly de-dragging, back turned to Trixie.  “I didn’t know any of the lyrics.  None of them!” he shot back in rapid fire, tugging at layers of tights.  He turned around to face Trixie again.  “And it’s a song I’ve done FOR YEARS! But today of all days my brain went, ‘No Brenda, we are not going to give the people what they PAID to see.”  Katya took a breath and stuck a baseball cap on his head. 

Trixie gasped and said, in mock horror, “Oh no, not a sequel to Glamazonian Airways!”

Katya laughed wildly.  “Shut up, you cunt,” he shouted, reaching past Trixie to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the table.  Gesturing towards the door, he asked, “You coming?”

“I will watch you from the door,” Trixie said.  Katya extended his hand to Trixie, and as he stood up, Katya pulled him into a hug. 

“I love you, bitch.”

“You too, incompetent whore,” Trixie laughed.  He kissed Katya’s forehead quickly.

Katya pulled out a cigarette from the pack and held it between his fingers.  “Mother, I’m going to increase my chances of lung cancer again.”  He squeezed Trixie’s shoulder and Trixie followed him outside.

It was pitch black outside the club, Katya’s face, still fully painted, illuminated only by the momentary flicker of his lighter.  “Do you ever think,” he started, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.  “About, like, changing your name and getting a full face transplant and, like, starting over as an ER nurse or something?”

Trixie was watching him from the doorway, a smile appearing across his face.  “I don’t think you can just go get a face transplant,” he said.  “Isn’t that just for, like, burn victims?”

“Dollar bills, mama,” Katya responded. 

“Also do you personally believe you have an aptitude for a medical profession?” Trixie started.  “Because I’ve seen you try to do math and I don’t think you’d be much of an asset.”

Katya laughed loudly.  “You know what I mean, Tracy Martel, now answer the question!”

Trixie looked directly at him and smiled.  “Sometimes,” he said. 

Katya paused, taking another drag.  “We should, you know,” he said.  “One of these days.  Just be Brian and Brian, ER nurses.  Or Stanley and Charles, or whatever.”

“Who are you? Charles?” Trixie asked incredulously.

“Obviously,” Katya responded as he walked closer to Trixie. 

“Excuse me, please keep your fumes over there,” Trixie said, placing a hand on Katya’s shoulder.  “I enjoy my clean air.”

“I just wanna stand next to you, bitch!  Is that such a crime?” Katya shouted.

“When you’re infecting me with your toxins, yes,” Trixie retorted

Katya dropped the half-finished cigarette and smashed it beneath his shoe, making sudden eye contact with Trixie when he looked up.  “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Trixie responded.

Katya sidled up to him and rested his head on Trixie’s shoulder.  He felt fingers gently grip the side of his waist, and he could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears.  They stood in silence for a moment, staring out at the empty lot.  “Guess we have to do this all over again tomorrow,” Katya said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, Maria, not like it’s our job or anything,” Trixie said, gently bumping Katya with his hip.

“I know,” Katya said, letting out an exasperated sigh.  “Just let me complain a little longer.  If I don’t get to bitch about my amazing life sometimes, I think I’ll go crazy.”

“Oh, it gets worse?” Trixie laughed.

“You are a rotted bitch, Trixie Mattel,” Katya said, shoving him lightly.  He took Trixie’s hand and asked, “If I’m bored later, will you come over?”

Trixie feigned exasperation.  “How far will I have to walk?”

“Several doors perhaps, and I’m offended you would even dare ask,” Katya said, pulling Trixie’s hand close to his chest, fingers intertwined with his.

“In that case I will consider it,” Trixie said. 

Katya stepped in closer to Trixie.  “Can I have a small kiss, mama? For old time’s sake?” Katya asked.

“What old times are you referencing?” Trixie laughed.  His hands had already migrated to Katya’s waist, and Trixie pulled him in slightly until their lips met for a brief moment.  It was nothing they hadn’t done before, but Katya felt suddenly like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

They suddenly heard the voice of the tour manager, Andrew, a few feet away, and Katya felt the moment get yanked away faster than it could begin.  “Everyone’s already on the bus, guys.  We’re trying to head out.” 

“We’re coming in a second,” Trixie shouted back, shooting Katya a knowing grimace.  “Oops,” he whispered. 

Katya quickly kissed Trixie’s cheek while he still had the chance.  “To the bus we go.”

 -

Once they got on the bus, Katya fell half asleep, head in Trixie’s lap.  He could feel Trixie’s hand lay haphazardly on his shoulder.  He was afraid that moving even an inch would disturb the delicate placement of Trixie’s hand, his fingertips a comforting presence against Katya’s bare skin.  Katya didn’t want anything to upset the fragility of the moment.  He didn’t want anything to jolt Trixie back into overthinking, didn’t want him to wonder if this was okay.  He just wanted to stay there in that moment, no words needed, time suspended.  Eventually, though, the bus came to a sudden halt in front of the hotel, and the spell was disrupted.  Katya opened his eyes and rolled over to look up at Trixie.

“Hey sleepy,” Trixie said softly. 

Katya was in love with the way Trixie’s hand lingered on his chest.  He took a breath and paused for a moment.  “Brian?” he whispered.  Trixie looked at him and grabbed his arm to let him know he was listening.  “Promise me you’ll come over tonight?”

Trixie laughed a little.  “Alright,” he said. 

Katya stood up and started to walk towards the door.  “Okay, well I’m holding you to it.”  As they both went inside and got in the elevator, Katya scanned Trixie’s face for some clarity.  Blank.  Nothing.  The elevator came to a sudden halt on the fourth floor, and Katya poked Trixie’s ribs.  “409 bitch,” he said.

“See you in thirty?” Trixie asked.

“I will be anxiously awaiting your arrival.”  Katya turned down the hallway and heard Trixie’s footsteps trailing away in the other direction.  When Katya finally got to his room, he was on autopilot, standing in the bathroom immediately waiting for the shower to warm up.  His makeup had smeared, leaving trails of black on his cheeks.  As he undressed quickly, he stared in the mirror for a little too long, regretting his decision to forego a tan this weekend.  Prodding at the contours of his pale abdomen, he felt suddenly out of sorts. 

He and Trixie had hung out in each other’s’ rooms countless times.  They always had a more or less open-door policy, and Katya had shown up to Trixie’s apartment more than a few times unannounced.  Trixie was always up, sitting on his couch, and he’d always motion to Katya to sit down next to him, and he’d slide over and put his head on Trixie’s shoulder.  What are we watching?  Katya would ask, like he was home.  Trixie would hand him the remote and say, Your choice.  Eventually he’d fall asleep on the couch, and Trixie would cover him with a blanket and go to bed.  He’d let himself out as soon as he’d become sentient again, awaking suddenly to a dark room on a too-familiar couch alone, calling an Uber home at 3AM like a pseudo walk of shame. 

Katya’s stream of consciousness was interrupted by a sharp double knock on the door.  He quickly turns to shut off the shower, frantically looking for a towel.  “Uh, just a second,” he shouted, struggling to dry off as quickly as possible.  How long had be been in there?  Katya shuffles towards the door, t-shirt only halfway on, and emerges to see Trixie completely de-dragged in an ex-white merch t-shirt. 

He took a look at a dilapidated Katya and, already walking into the room, said, “You’re shirt’s on backwards, bitch.” 

“Well, I’m sorry that you require perfection, but some of us have been a little too busy with our shower thoughts to pay attention to these details,” Katya said, sliding his arms out of his t-shirt and flipping it around to the front. 

“Shower thoughts? Anything particularly sordid you’d care to share with the class?” Trixie asked, tossing himself onto the bed.

“Oh, I wish,” Katya responded, rubbing his soap-irritated eyes.  He looked over to see Trixie eyeing him expectantly.  “No, no.  Nothing interesting.”

Trixie was already messing with the TV settings as Katya sat down next to him, his tense, upright posture a juxtaposition with Trixie’s relaxed sprawl.  He suddenly didn’t know how to act normally.  “Do we have Netflix capability? Or is it gonna be a cable TV infomercial night?”

“Uh, probably the latter unless you can figure it out—”

Trixie’s phone buzzed and she interjected.  “Oh, Alaska’s staying in 412.  I told her she could come over. That’s cool, right?”

Katya’s shoulders sunk a little.  “Y-yeah, yeah that’s fine.”  His entertainment of the idea that maybe there was a hint of something else in the air tonight was promptly smashed to pieces.  He was suddenly feeling very antisocial.

Trixie was still flipping through channels on the TV, and Katya, now devoid of the pressure of expectation, flopped onto his back.  He felt Trixie’s fingers grab his shoulder suddenly.  “Bitch, look at what’s on in two minutes!” he shouted with much more energy than Katya could muster at that point.  Katya sat up a little.  “Heathers, Brenda.  We have won the late-night hotel cable TV lottery.”

Katya smiled.  “Alright, well you know what to do,” he said, gesturing at the TV.  He popped up for a moment.  “I’m going to retrieve a Red Bull from my stash.  You want one?” he asked, already across the room digging through a drawer.  “I have multiples,” he said with affectation, a dumb grin on his face.

“It’s almost midnight,” Trixie protested.

“And when have you let that stop you?”  Katya asked, tilting his head and flashing a smile at Trixie.

“Alright.” Trixie responded, and Katya danced back over to the bed, placing a can gingerly in Trixie’s hand. 

“You’re welcome,” Katya said sarcastically.  Trixie bumped him with his shoulder.  For just a moment, Katya let himself think about those nights at Trixie’s. 

Then Alaska knocked at the door, and Trixie paused the movie.  Moment over.  Trixie got up to answer the door.  “I really hope I wasn’t interrupting any hand fun between the two of you,” Alaska said in a long, overdramatic drawl.  Katya watched from the bed awkwardly.

Trixie laughed.  “You awful cunt.” 

He walked in and eyed Katya.  “Alaska Thunderfun, what ever are you doing here?” Katya asked in a theatrical voice. 

“To relieve my dreadful boredom, of course,” he responded.  “How was your show, mama?” 

“She said it was awful, and I don’t believe it,” Trixie interjected. 

For a fraction of a second, Katya shot him a glance of rare sincerity.  He hoped that Trixie got it.  “It was awful.  Point-blank, period.  No exaggeration.”

“Well why? I’m on the edge of my seat,” Alaska asked, sitting down on one of the armchairs. 

“Okay, well one, I didn’t remember a single word to the song.  Which was horrifying and bad because I don’t think I even managed to sell it. And two—”

Trixie cut her off.  “It’s a song she’s performed for years, and then tonight for some reason—”

Alaska jumped in.  “Oh my god, my favorite married couple.  Are kids on the way?” he said mockingly.

“SHUT UP!” Katya squealed in, thrashing his hands around in the sheets.

“I can’t help it that you two are disgustingly adorable, just casually finishing each other’s sentences.  Gross.”

“Girl, don’t be jealous of me and my work wife.”  Trixie said.  Katya poked his leg and for a brief split second, he could have sworn he saw something in Trixie’s eyes that was different.  It was something; it had to be.

“Oh speaking of which, girl, what ever happened to that gorgeous man from last night?” Alaska asked.  Was it nothing?

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—” Trixie started.

“Oh my god, you did?” Katya asked, attempting to find the right tone to mask his jealousy.

“No, we didn’t.  Well, I mean, not that.”

“Oh, so you—” Alaska holds up her fist and mock-fellatiates the air. 

“Maybe.” Trixie said quietly, pulling his chin in closer to his chest.  “But you know that I’m not about to go all the way with a man from the club in the same night.  I am not that kind of girl.”

“Okay, Miss Mattel, thank you for the shade,” Alaska said.  He looks at the TV, the semi-blurred opening scene of Heathers still paused.  “So what are we watching tonight?” 

“The magic of Heathers has graced the hotel TV this evening.  We just started it before you got here,” Trixie said.

“Well onwards, ladies, let’s get it going,” Alaska said.  He stayed in his armchair while Trixie climbed back into bed with Katya.  “No funny business, you too.  Mother is watching,” Alaska joked.

As Trixie unpaused the TV, Katya became distracted by monitoring Trixie’s presence out of his periphery.  Trixie and Alaska would ever so often interject commentary during the movie, but Katya was uncharacteristically silent.  He waited to see if Trixie moved closer, if he turned his hips away, if he was looking back.  Slowly, Katya attempted to inch closer.  He figured if it was done at glacial speed, maybe Trixie wouldn’t even notice.  Maybe it would seem like an accident.  So she counted every few minutes and slid another inch or two closer.  The neurosis of it was pure agony, and with every passing moment of Trixie’s signals failing to provide relief, Katya was beginning to feel like a petulant child. 

The credits rolled, and Alaska got up.  “Alright, I should be heading out.  I have got a major early morning tomorrow,” Alaska said, rising from the chair.  He walked towards the door and grasped the handle.  “See you guys at breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, girl, for sure I have to get those pancakes from downstairs,” Trixie said.  Katya just nodded.  Alaska shut the door behind him. 

Katya had the sudden realization that he had fully migrated probably an entire foot.  So much for subtlety.  Their arms were close enough that they would be touching if either of them moved a millimeter.  Katya turned on his side, and Trixie started to sit up. 

“You don’t have to go,” Katya said softly.  “I mean, if you don’t want to.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go to bed?” Trixie asked.

“You should know by now that your presence does absolutely nothing to affect that,” Katya reassured, gently grasping Trixie’s wrist. 

“Well lucky for you, I am completely wired from your Red Bull from earlier,” Trixie said, sliding back underneath the covers. 

Katya laughed and said, “Then my plan was successful.” 

Trixie passed the remote to Katya.  “Your turn,” he said.

Katya started scrolling.  “So who was the guy from the other night?” he asked, realizing it came out sounding a little more controlling housewife than he was intending.

“Oh him? I have no idea.”  Trixie’s tone luckily didn’t seem to imply he had read this as accusatory.  “His name was Dan or Dave or something like that.  Very much what I’d classify as a drunk decision.”

“Gotcha. Well that’s fun, I guess,” Katya responded, a little too seriously. 

Trixie paused for what felt like an eternity and looked at him.  “What?” he asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Katya asked.

“What is this reaction you’re having? ‘Well that’s fun, I guess’? That’s not how you talk and you and I both know it,” Trixie pressed. 

Katya felt exposed, all of a sudden.  With no rehearsed heart-bearing statement, he said, rather anticlimactically, “No, no, sorry, I just was reading something on the TV and wasn’t paying attention.”  He took a breath and tried to sell it further.  “No reason to panic, Mother,” he said in a jokey cockney accent.  Trixie seemed to accept this response, but Katya secretly wished she’d pushed more.  He just needed another moment to think of how to frame what it really was.  He wasn’t even sure he could put it to words right then.  It was all too much feeling and too little logic to relay.  Katya tried to change the subject.  “Cops?” he asked.  “I think it’s as good as we’re gonna get this time.”

Trixie seemed distracted.  “Uh, yeah, it’s your call.  Whatever you want.”

Katya put it on and relaxed back into the bed, sliding a little further away in a weak attempt to conceal his motives.  Almost without missing a beat, Trixie moved in closer, so much so that their arms were suddenly touching.  Katya felt his breathing get faster, it was all too much and he almost couldn’t function.  He resounded to not react, taking every bone in his body and willing himself to not move one way or the other.  He wanted to see what Trixie would do without any of his own influence. 

Katya was nearly stressed by the inaction.  They remained like that for minutes on end, nobody making a single move.  He tried to watch Trixie from the corner of his eye, but he was watching the TV.  He felt his palms sweating, wondering how he could be so overwhelmed and Trixie could be watching TV with the inner calm of a monk.  But before long, Katya felt fingers running along his wrist.  The touch was tentative devoid of any reason or context.  This was a sign, right?  Katya took it as encouragement enough to lean her head into the space between Trixie’s shoulder and his jaw.  “Wait, sit up for a second,” Trixie said.  Katya felt a sinking feeling.  Did he cross the line?  Was this too much?  He thought he was just following Trixie’s lead.  Trixie moved his arm so it hooked around Katya’s waist.  “Okay, all good,” he said reassuringly.  He pulled Katya in closer, and Katya felt his cheek brush against Trixie’s.

There was always a line they never seemed to cross, even though it seemed to get blurrier and blurrier with time.  They never went beyond the point of no return, beyond the point where they’d actually have to talk about it, where it couldn’t just be chalked up to a platonic intimacy.  Katya was never really sure where this line was, but Trixie always seemed so sure of it.  His boundaries were always so defined to him, even if they seemed unclear to Katya most of the time.  But from experience, Katya learned.  They could snuggle in the same bed all night as long as they didn’t sleep together, and they could share quick kisses if it was mandated, but they never, ever lingered.  Anything beyond that could upset the delicate balance of not having to talk about it.  Even Alaska’s comments could make Katya jump, like he’d just peered at the X-ray of his innermost thoughts that he didn’t dare voice.  Katya always assumed Trixie didn’t have any questionable thoughts that Alaska’s jokes would threaten to illuminate, since he always managed to seem so collected.

Katya wasn’t even pretending to watch the TV anymore, his eyes enamored with studying the contours of Trixie’s face.  Trixie remained seemingly oblivious.  “You know, if I were running from the cops, I don’t think I’d bring my crack pipe with me,” he said, laughing a little.  He looked over at Katya, his lithe body practically melted into Trixie, and his face was so close that Katya could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin, making his stomach flip over.  Trixie raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Yes, yes, totally agree,” Katya said absently.  He traced the perimeter of Trixie’s jawline with his index finger, then ran it along the bridge of his nose.  “You have a cute nose, you rotted whore.  Just thought I’d tell you.”  He whispered it so gently that it was almost too intimate. 

“You are a strange one,” Trixie said.

Katya traced the curve of his bottom lip.  “Brian, uh—”  Trixie was looking at him again.  “Would you, uh, get mad if I kissed you right now?” 

Trixie laughed again, but Katya was dead serious, his face almost concerned.  So Trixie didn’t answer immediately.  He turned onto his side and place his hand on the side of Katya’s face.  “I’d get mad if you didn’t.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Trixie brought his lips to meet Katya’s.  But this time was different.  He didn’t pull away instantly, didn’t make a joke to diffuse the tension, didn’t stop it before it began.  They lingered, Trixie’s breath hot and heavy against Katya’s face.  Trixie’s tongue brushed Katya’s lips, and it instantly intensified until the weight of Katya’s body was pressed on top of his.  Hands wandered underneath t-shirts, feeling warm skin against skin.  Trixie’s fingertips raked across Katya’s back until he reached towards the waistband of Trixie’s jeans.  “Wait,” Trixie said, near-breathless.  “Don’t.”  Katya looked up at him with wide eyes, half-surprised, half-disappointed.  “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”  Katya rolled off Trixie and flopped onto his back, facing a separation that felt like it could’ve spanned oceans.  Still fully clothed, he felt more naked than ever before.  He wanted to crawl into the shower and wash the feeling off.

Trixie was already up and heading for the door.  He didn’t even try to diffuse the situation, his words just sat there with their jagged edges, cutting into Katya with every moment he still stood there.  Katya didn’t even try to come up with a response.  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Trixie said as he closed the door behind him, his inflection at the end making it seem more like a question than a declaration that things would go on as normal.

[stronglyobsessed]

Hartwin father/son Fathers Day - Eggsy and eggsy’s little one give Harry a grandpa present for Father’s Day

Okay! So this turned out A LOT longer than I thought! It is 2.5K and I hope you enjoy!!!

Thank you SO much for such a cute prompt!

*It’s long so located under*

Here is the link for it on AO3!

Manners Maketh Grandfather

“Daddy!” A small voice called beside his ear. Eggsy rolled toward the sound, one eye cracked open to see a crystal blue set staring at him. “Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb claimed happily.

Before Eggsy could properly thank his four year old, a homemade card with ‘Happy Father’s Day’ written in his wife’s beautiful cursive on the front was thrust into view. Although the little hearts, cupcakes, flowers and stick figure form of what could only be Eggsy and Caleb, were clearly his son’s work. Behind him Tilde stood holding a plate that contained a generous stack of pancakes, eggs and bacon. She was immaculate, of course, with her blonde hair tossed in a messy bun. A tired smile lit her face, as her other palm mindlessly rubbed her protruding stomach.

“Thank you!” Eggsy leaned over the side to collect his son, bringing him under the sheets to cuddle him close. Caleb went without complaint, as always, and instinctively curled against Eggsy’s chest. He made sure to take the construction paper card and place it on the nightstand; he’d look at it later, right now he wanted a snuggle.

Caleb stayed put for a whole five minutes before he scurried back out, taking Eggsy’s card with eager hands. “I made this for you, Daddy!”

Eggsy beamed happily at his boy, Tilde now moved to sit next to them while Eggsy sat propped against the headboard. Caleb clambered to rest between his legs, giving Eggsy his card to read.

“Mama helped me with the words.” But Eggsy could see where his son tried to write his name. “But I told her what to say!”

“You did,” Tilde confirmed. She reached out to brush blonde wayward strands from their son’s forehead. “And he even helped me make breakfast!”

“I love it!” Eggsy promised after he read it aloud and dropped a loving kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head. “And I can’t wait to eat what you’ve made! Helping Mama cook, you’re getting so big!” His heart hurt at the reality. Their first baby wasn’t such a baby, and next fall he’d start nursery school just as they’d welcome their daughter.

“How's my princess doing?” Eggsy reached forward to rub where his girl resided. There was a soft kick against his palm. “Hello my love, good morning, Daddy loves you,” he cooed, just as he always did every day.

“She’s right as rain, sitting on my bladder and using it as her personal trampoline.” Tilde covered his hand with hers. She gave a quick squeeze before letting go, and took the tray to place over Eggsy’s lap, which also covered Caleb’s. “Happy Father’s Day, darling.” She murmured, lips hovered his skin before she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

Eggsy tipped his face, a hand cradled her cheek to guide into a full, delicate kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She promised with an elated grin as Caleb made a face.

“Stop kissing! Daddy has to eat now!” Both parents laughed.

Eggsy tucked in as his son instructed, his son assisted in the consumption of his pancakes. It was perfect, a little noisy as Caleb romped around the bed with JB, but one of the best Father’s Day. Although Eggsy found himself saying that each year since becoming a dad.

“Come my little love. Time for a wash up and proper clothes.” Tilde herded Caleb off the bed. “Remember we have to finish the surprise for Grandpa, yes?” She added, just as Caleb began to make his ‘I’m going to have a strop’ face.

Thankfully the mention of Grandpa had a smile on his face and rushing to toddle beside his mother. Eggsy watched with fond eyes as they left so he could get himself ready as well. He sent a quick text to confirm their meeting, of course he was reminded to be punctual. Which was fucking hilarious, because the man had little regard for punctuality in his career.

“Are we ready?” Eggsy held Caleb’s black peacoat for him to slip his little arms into. “You sure you’re okay here, babe?” He worried as Caleb plucked small feet into trainers identical to Eggsy’s. But today he wore a casual pair of dark grey trousers, a hunter green button down and a freshly shined pair of oxfords.

Caleb was dressed just as nicely, but refused to wear the oxfords his Grandpa had bought him. “Ready!” He proclaimed. “Mama, I can carry it!” Caleb made grabby hands for the box that contained what he and Tilde had made.

“I’m fine, Eggsy.” She assured him. “Don’t run with them, okay?” Tilde carefully placed it into Caleb’s waiting arms. “And be good for daddy, make sure to give Grandpa my love.” She lay a soft kiss to his hairline. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama! Bye!”

Eggsy placed a hand on the top of the eager one's head; Caleb ready to bolt out the door. “Hold it bud. Daddy has to say goodbye too!” He cupped Tilde’s face with his freehand, coaxing her in for a tender sweep of lips. “Take care of my girl.” He touched her tummy, where their daughter danced against his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She promised, and they were off.

The drive to the Mews was short from the small home he lived in now. After Tilde renounced her title as Princess, and stepped away from the crown, they moved back to London. Eggsy continued to work for Kingsman, but on more local missions and the occasional overseas recon assignments. Nothing ever as risky as when he’d first become an agent. After the whole Golden Circle scare, and the loss of so many, they found the world a little less littered with insane, psychopathic villains...at least for now.

“We’re here!” Eggsy announced. Caleb cheered from his car seat, as if he didn’t have weekly visits here, or Sunday dinners at Grandpa’s. He collected his son, the homemade gifts and a box Eggsy had stowed away in the boot, and made their way to the door.

“I can press the button, Daddy?”

“Sure.” It was work to hold Caleb and juggle their offerings so that a tiny finger could press the doorbell. “Ah ah!” Eggsy cautioned when he started to push it again. “Let’s give him a minute, yeah?”

“Okay,” Caleb sighed mournfully. He’d end up spamming his grandfather with a string of chimes, if Eggsy allowed it.

He started to lose his grip on Caleb as he wiggled, getting restless that he couldn’t make the doorbell ring again, but just as Eggsy repositioned Caleb he heard precise footsteps approach the door. Caleb let out an ear shattering cheer when the door was opened, and Harry caught the small body that lunged toward his person.

“Caleb!” Eggsy hissed. “That is not polite!” But it appeared every ounce of manners, polite behavior and lessons to be a proper gentleman went out the window as Harry swung the boy onto a hip and hugged him.

Sometimes it was hard for Eggsy to separate Arthur and Harry at home. The man was a bit different since he’d ‘died’ and come back to life.

“Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb crowed. “We brought presents!”

Harry’s smile was soft, the softest Eggsy had ever seen it, and only for his son. “That was very generous of you, Caleb, but shouldn’t you be spending the day with your Daddy?” Eggsy kept Caleb’s presence a secret, but it looked like the older man enjoyed it quite a bit.

“Daddy’s here!” Caleb pointed out, with a face that could only be inherited from Eggsy.

“Yes, I am here. May I come in?” Eggsy grinned cheekily as Harry stepped aside, his arms filled with his boy, and the sight was something Eggsy would never tire of. “Happy Father’s Day.” He was finally able to wish Harry, giving him a half hug because Caleb dominated the other side, and pressed a loving kiss to Harry’s weathered cheek.

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He could hear the emotion stuck in Harry’s throat, as his remaining eye watered a bit. “Now.” Harry turned back to Caleb. Much like every time Caleb was in Harry’s presence, Eggsy took a back seat, and it’d been that way since the day his son was born; he didn’t mind a whit. “Shall we have tea, young man?”

“And open presents?!” Both men laughed at his excitement.

“We can.” Harry threaded fingers through Caleb’s blond strands. “Come. I have a full set in the sitting room. I think I even have a few biscuits for you.”

Eggsy wanted to argue that it wasn’t even lunchtime, but the words died on his lips when Caleb tightened small arms around Harry’s neck and a loud, wet kiss was slammed against his cheek. He wouldn’t deny his child, or the man he considered a father for over ten years, the simple joys that they seemed to bring one another.

They settled in, cuppas poured, and Eggsy sat watching two of his favorite men talk adamantly to one another. Though the conversation was led primarily by Caleb, who told Grandpa all of the neat things he’d done at home with his mother, and the mention of Tilde resulted in a thoughtful gaze from Harry.

“She’s good.” Eggsy reassured. “Trudging along with our little lady growing. Both are healthy and safe.” He was bloody excited for their daughter to be born.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Please pass on my love and well wishes to both ladies.”

“I will.”

That was about all Eggsy was able to get in before his son monopolized Harry’s time. Though it didn’t seem like the man minded at all. He never pegged Harry to be a kid person, but as soon as Caleb entered the world, Harry was determined to be the best pseudo grandfather. Eggsy and Tilde had formally asked him to be when he visited hospital, and Eggsy wouldn’t speak to a soul that Harry had wept a little.

“Caleb,” Eggsy said after an hour. “I know you really like talking to Grandpa, but how about we let him open what we brought?” The reminder caused his boy to hop up, darting off of the sofa and collected all that his small hands could hold.

“For you!” Caleb shoved them in Harry’s lap, and crawled to sit beside Harry once more. “I made mine. Daddy didn’t!”

Harry bit his lip, an amused glint in his eye. “Well, I’m sure your Daddy put a lot of thought into it as well, hm?” Caleb nodded enthusiastically. “This is a charming card. You made it all by yourself?” Harry held a piece of construction paper similar to Eggsy’s.

“Yep! Mama helped with the words!”

“Well done,” he praised Caleb. And much like his father the boy preened, always willing to receive compliments and praise for his work. “Now what have we in the box?” Harry waited with all the patience any grandparent would have, as Caleb grabbed said blue, white striped box and handed it to Harry. “Is this your handy work as well?” Harry wondered as he opened the top.

“Yeah! But Mama used the oven. I can’t.” Caleb sounded displeased by that. “I mixed and helped pour the batter in. Then we frosted them!”

Inside were a dozen chocolate raspberry cupcakes; Harry’s absolute favorites. Leave it to Tilde to ensure Harry got precisely what he enjoyed, instead of the vanilla and buttercream frosted ones Caleb would have suggested.

“Now isn’t this a treat.” There was clear restraint in Harry’s brown eye as he stared at the sweets. “I will be sure to have one after supper.” He nodded, closing the lid and set them aside like he wouldn’t dig right into them once they left.

“Do you like them?” Just as the question was spoken, Harry scooped Caleb into his lap to give a big, full armed hug.

“I love them so much. Thank you, Caleb.” Harry dropped a soft kiss to Caleb’s head.

“Good!” Caleb crowed, wrapping his little arms around Harry, or as near as he could. “Daddy.” He turned to Eggsy. “You have to give Grandpa your presents now.” Eggsy nodded as he collected the long, thin box he had beside him.

It was wrapped in shiny silver paper with an equally shiny blue bow on top.

“Here you are.” Eggsy handed it over with a soft smile. He had a lot more patience than his son when it came to gratitude and praise for gifts. And he supposed that had to do with being thirty five, though Harry would argue the patience wasn’t extended to work; he was right.

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry breathed. A hand swept over the polished wood handle of the rainmaker, as the other curved to cradle the taffeta canopy and lifted it out. “This is gorgeous.” The awe in Harry’s voice was well deserved. It was the newest model Kingsman had to offer.

“Comes with all the bells and whistles.” Eggsy promised, even as his son scrunched his nose; clearly unimpressed with something so mundane. “There’s a message engraved, too.”

Harry smiled tenderly as he turned it to read the inscription. “Manners Maketh Man.” He gave a whispered chuckle. “Thank you.” Eggsy heard the emotion beneath two simple words.

He marveled at it for a moment longer before Harry stood to wrap Eggsy in a warm, tight embrace. Eggsy returned the affection in kind, tipping his face to give a delicate kiss against Harry’s wet cheek; a few tears slipped despite his saying so.

Harry cleared his throat, swiping at his face to get rid of the moisture. “This has been lovely. You both have outdone yourselves.”

This time, both Caleb and Eggsy gave identical sheepish grins. After the paper and rubbish was cleared away, they enjoyed another cuppa and helped Harry tidy up. Just as Eggsy loaded the last plate into the dishwasher, his phone pinged with a text from Tilde.

“Hey.” Eggsy got Harry’s attention. He gestured to the front door and said, “You feel like joining us for dinner? Tild is making Beef Wellington.” Harry’s eye lit up. “We would have plenty,” Eggsy promised before Harry could ask.

“Yeah! You have to come, Grandpa!” Caleb already bombarded Harry before he could even speak a word. “And you can tell me a story before bed.” He shifted pleading blue eyes toward Eggsy. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course! Grandpa is more than welcome to take over tuck in time. If he’d like.”

Harry scoffed, clearly offended there was even a question. “I really don’t want to be trouble. It is Father’s Day, and you should spend it with your family.” It was Eggsy’s turn to feel insulted.

“Dad,” Eggsy murmured, a name he used on and off in the recent years. The way Harry’s breath caught tugged at Eggsy’s heart; Harry was not used to hearing it still. Eggsy took Harry’s hand and held it. “You are family, and we’d be honored if you came.”

It only took a second for Harry to compose himself, evident that Eggsy’s declaration of his spot in the family caught him off guard, but it turned out in the best possible way.

“I’ll get my coat.”

Eggsy’s ears were filled with Caleb’s cheering and the quiet sound of Harry sniffling as he donned his jacket.

As Eggsy thought earlier, it was the best Father’s Day ever.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 53

A/N: Having to post from my phone because my laptop is froze so if this look weird, I'm sorry. I don't even know if the tags will work. ************************************* AUSTIN The warm water cascading down my face masks the tears as they escape my eyes. In the sanctuary of the bathroom, I could let all my insecurities and fear free. What had happened? Where had everything gone so wrong? I was at a complete loss. As I shampooed my hair I tried to think over the events of the day before. Yes I had been worried about showing up to JJ’s party, even after Jensen’s reassurances that I had nothing to worry about. He had even promised to leave early if I had felt unwelcome or out of place. None of those had happened though. The only discomfort was when Josh had shown up. Neither Jensen nor I had any inclination that Dani had began dating anyone, least of all, the doctor who delivered their daughter. After rinsing off, I turned the water off and stepped out into the bathroom. The sink still had his bottle of aftershave and cologne sitting to the side, his razor still thrown haphazardly into its container. All evidence that Jensen hadn’t packed everything. Maybe he was planning on returning to retrieve them later? I wrap my hair up in the towel and step to the sink. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I look at my reflection. The face looking back at me is one I don’t recognize. My face is red and puffy; my eyes are swollen from crying, I’m sure and they just look devoid and bereft. There is no light in them; no life. I compare the woman looking back at me to the girl who, just a few years ago, had lost the love of her life and became a widow. The woman staring back at me is more disconsolate than that girl was. Shaking my head, I turn and get dressed to go check on my son. He was who I needed to worry about. He needed me, even if Jensen didn’t. Jackson was a helpless baby who needed a mother who could care for him, not a grief-stricken shell. Jackson and I head to the park to meet the Padalecki’s. I am looking forward to having some adult conversation and interactions, not a one-sided communication with an infant. Parking near the entrance, I grab the diaper bag and my purse from the front seat and exit the vehicle. Walking around to the other side, I grab for the handle to pull Jackson from his carseat when I hear my name being called. I look up to see Jared heading my way, a smile on his face. “Hey Jared,” I say as he approaches. “Glad you could make it. How’s little man?” Jared asks looking into the window at my little boy. “He’s fine. Just woke up from a nap not too long ago so he should enjoy this outing.” “How are you doing?” Jared inquired, his voice changing from the cheerful tone to a more somber one. I smile at the compassion and tenderness I hear in his words. He might be Jensen's co-star, best friend and pseudo-brother but if it hadn't been for Jared Padalecki, Jensen and I may not have survived the loss of one of our twins. I wonder now if his support and encouragement had been for naught. If Jensen and I were over and done, would I still be able to call the Padaleckis my friends? Jared helps me pull Jackson from the car and offers to carry the carseat over to where Gen is sitting on a bench in the shade. As we reach her, I notice a small smile on her face as she watches Jared and I interact. I can see that she is contemplating something but can’t for the life of me figure out what is going on in her head. I shake those thoughts away as I sit on the bench between them and watch as the Padalecki boys run and play on the playground, hoping that in a year or so, my son will be able to join and befriend them. DALLAS After changing out of his pajamas and brushing his teeth, Jensen strolled into the one room he knew he could find his mother, the kitchen. Donna Ackles loved to cook and bake and was always tinkering away, making some type of food in the kitchen. Jensen grabbed an empty mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup of the black brew. “Good morning Jensen,” Donna said, not even looking up from whatever she was stirring on the stove. “Are you ready to tell me why you showed up last night? And don’t even tell me you missed us. We had just seen you at the party.” Jensen cringed. He knew his mom was correct. He couldn’t use the excuse that he had thought of because it had only been about five hours before he showed up that they were all together, celebrating his daughter’s birthday. After taking a sip of his coffee, Jensen sit the cup down and leaned his elbows onto the counter. “I just needed some space. Get my head on right.” “About what?” Donna inquired, curious as to what had her son so unsettled. She set the burner on low and turned to look at him. “Yesterday. The party. Danneel flaunting Josh…” “And you’re upset about that?” Donna asked confused. She knew Jensen was upset and hurt when he found out about his ex’s affair but she also knew he had moved on with Drea. Had had a son with the girl, so why did it bother him that Dani had also moved on. “You’re with Drea now. You two have a son. Do you expect Dani to just sit at home in that big house and raise your daughter? That she is not meant to meet someone new for herself?” Jensen looked at his mom, stunned. That wasn’t what this was about whatsoever. He didn’t care that Danneel had found someone new. It wasn’t his place to tell her when she could begin dating again. No, this was more about WHO she chose to date. Jensen proceeded to tell his mother this. “It’s not that she is dating again. I don’t care about that,” he said. “Just...it’s who she is seeing. Josh is the doctor who delivered JJ and conned Drea into dating in order to get the results of the paternity test. Danneel will always have a special place in my heart. She is the mother of my first born, my little girl. And I wish no harm or ill will toward her. I want her to be happy. But I feel as though she is trying to take a jab at Drea by dating her ex.” Jensen ran his hand down his face, relieved to get that off his chest. “What do you mean, ‘conned Drea into dating him’?” “He agreed to do the paternity test only if Drea went out with him. And she agreed. They went out for several months then suddenly he dumps her because she didn’t feel the same as he did.” Donna nods in understanding but then abruptly and tilted her head to the side. “So? People break up all the time. What’s the big deal?” “The big deal? The big deal is after everything Drea has been through in her life, she just shrugged off the fact that the person who unceremoniously ditched her was right there in her face.” “Okay whoa,” Donna said, putting her hand on Jensen’s. “Back up. What are you talking about? What is Drea’s story?” Jensen explained to his mom about Drea’s mother being diagnosed with cancer and passing away when Drea was a teenager and how she had been put into a group home; how she met and fell in love with Chad in that home and after they both aged out of the system, they were married and were beginning to start a life together when it all abruptly came to an end after Chad was killed. By the time Jensen was finished, both mother and son had tears running down their cheeks. Donna grabs them both a napkin and wipes her face before she confronts him. “Jensen Ross Ackles! Are you that naive? I know I raised you to be smarter than this.” Jensen looks at his mom, frozen. “What?” “Drea wasn’t upset about Josh being there, with Dani because she never cared for him. Sure they dated but for her that is all it was. She wasn’t ready to let go of her husband and move on, not with the doctor anyway.” Jensen looked down at the table and let his mom’s words run through his mind. Was his mom right? Had Drea not been ready to move on when she dated Josh? Jensen thought back over what Drea had told him about her relationship with the doctor. She had only agreed to go out with him to help Dani keep her infidelity a secret, to help his ex get the results of the paternity test that she had needed. Donna groaned and sighed. “My god. I can’t imagine what is going through her head. What do you think this looks like to her? You see your ex with someone else and you pack up and leave. She is probably thinking you are upset that Dani is moving on. Good lord, Jensen. You’ve really screwed the pooch on this one.” “No, Drea knows I love her. She knows….” but as Jensen goes to tell his mom that Drea knew why he left, he realizes the fact that he never did tell her what was bothering him. Drea had left him alone after he blew up and threw the glass against the wall. Jensen jumps up so fast, the chair he was sitting in rocked backwards and almost falls over. He sits his almost empty cup in the sink and kisses his mom’s cheek. “Thanks Ma.” Donna shakes her head as she watches her son rush out of the room. She grabs her phone from the counter and opens a new text message. To: Drea My son may be an idiot and does things without thinking but he loves you and that little boy immensely. Give him time and he’ll come around. Jensen throws his bags into the backseat of his truck and hops into the driver’s seat. “Please for the love of god, don’t let me be too late. Let me be able to fix this. I can’t lose her!” he chants out loud as he pulls out of his parents’ driveway and heads back toward Austin. Pulling into the garage, Jensen immediately notices Drea’s car isn’t parked in the usual spot. He looks into the rearview mirror to check the street as he cuts off the engine. Opening the door, his heart drops when he realizes Drea might have packed and left him. Took their son and abandoned the home they had built. He ran to Jackson bedroom and was relieved to see that the crib and bassinet and all the furniture was unmoved and the clothes were still folded in drawers and hanging in the closet. Jensen walks to their bedroom and is once again relieved to see the bed unmade and all of Drea’s belongings in their places. Maybe she just ran to the store, he thinks to himself and heads back to the kitchen to get something to drink and wait on her to return. He is more than ready to beg and plead for forgiveness. He will get down on his knees if he has to. Anything not to lose her and Jackson over his stupidity. AUSTIN Thomas Padalecki is one tenacious little boy. Nothing would make him happy until he was able to push Jackson in a swing. So I held my son on my lap in the wooden swing while Thomas pushed with all his little might. I snuck and helped him move us by pushing my toes into the sand underneath the play area. Jackson cooed and laughed, which in turn made Thomas feel as if he was doing an excellent job. I hear my phone begin ringing in the diaper bag so I stop the swing and hoist Jackson onto my hip. By the time I get to where my bag is sitting, Gen has pulled the phone out and is handing it to me. "It's Jensen." I roll my eyes as I hand Jackson over to her. Taking the phone, I answer the call and walk away from the bench for privacy. "Hello?" "Hey. Where are you? I came home to an empty house." Oh, so he does care! How thoughtful. "I'm out with Gen and Jared. I'll be back in a couple of hours." "Drea, I'm s--" he begins but I don't want to hear it so I interrupt. "Jay, save it. I said I'd be home in a couple of hours. Just don't disappear again, okay? We have a lot to discuss and I'd rather do it face to face." "I'll be here," he says and I can hear the apprehension and panic in his voice. "I love you." "Yea, love you too," I say and hang up. Turning back to the bench I can see Gen keeping Jackson entertained but trying to eavesdrop too. I know she isn't doing it to be nosy or intrusive, she actually cares about this situation. Our conversation last night proved just that. *FLASHBACK (the night before)* "I'm so confused, " I tell Gen. "I thought we were doing okay. Not even an actual argument about anything. We got along perfectly. Almost too perfect, ya know?" "What do you mean?" Gen had asked me, puzzled. "There are no perfect relationships, Gen. You know that. I mean, I'm sure you and Jared have had your share of disagreements." She nodded her agreement. "Jay and I...this is our first. We haven't argued since we've been together. Everything was just….too impeccable. I really should have seen this coming." I run my hand through my hair and sigh. "Do you know how we met?" "You were stranded on the side of the road with a flat and they stopped to help," Gen confirmed. "Yea, and if it hadn't been for the spare being flat I wouldn't've needed any help. Gen, until I met Jensen I was a strong independent woman who could take care of herself. I have no idea when that changed!" Gen placed her hand on top of mine on the table. "Drea, you are still a strong, independent woman. I have never heard you complain once about anything. From months of being alone while the guys are up in Vancouver filming to giving birth with no one there to support you! I don't know if I could have done that." "I had no control over that," I told her. "Jackson wasn't going to wait for his father to make the 6 hour flight." "See strong," Gen smiled. "You just took what was given to you in stride. You're my hero." "And you're full of it," I laugh. "But I am glad you are my friend. I've never really had a friend. Most of the kids in the group home were all snobs and only look out for themselves. 'Cept Chad. We both needed a friend and that's how we bonded." "I'm glad we are friends too, Drea. I care highly for you, kid. Jared and I both do." "Thanks Gen." After our heart to heart, Gen and I had decided to go to bed and sleep away this horrible day. *END FLASHBACK* After leaving the park, I took my time driving back to the house. I knew what needed to happen and what needed to be said but I was dreading it. Dreading the fight for what I wanted, the fight for what I needed. For myself and for my son. Pulling into the garage and seeing Jensen's truck parked in its usual spot caused the pit in my stomach to grow. Here goes nothing, I thought as I climbed out of the car and went to get Jackson out. Jensen doted on his son from the moment I sat the carseat on the counter. He unbuckled Jackson and pulled his from the restraints, kissing on him and telling his son how much he was missed. I sit the diaper bag beside the now empty seat and walked to the bedroom. I needed a few minutes and Jensen needed to spend time with Jackson; to realize what he was losing. I don't know how much time passed before Jensen joined me in the bedroom. "He was worn out. Went to sleep with no problems," Jensen told me as he approached me. He bent to kiss me but I stepped away. "Jay, we need to talk." ************************************* Tags: @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @carryonmywaywardcaptain @darlingpeanut @sunskittlex @sis-tafics @wayward-gypsy @sea040561 @pretty-fortune @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @internationalmusicteacher @kricketc27 @natura1phenomenon @mannls @nickie-amore @spn-tw-37 @frozenhuntress67 @blacktithe7 @supernaturallymarvellous @thetardishasaquidditchpitch @sirod-30 @heyitscam99 @smoothdogsgirl @i-just-wanna-run-hell @paintballkid711 @closetspngirl @starfirerules @vickiq9761 @rainflowermoon @spnbaby-67 @flamencodiva @tiffany-leigh @drakelover78 @jessieray98 @81mysteriouslyme @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @topthis808

[mspaintdisaster]

look at you, strawberry blond

hey............ I don't know how this works but anyways I wrote a kiribaku oneshot and i’m putting it up here too.

I posted this on ao3 too, under the username nerbegg: ao3 link

Rated: T (for cursing)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Bakugou and Kirishima are in the summer of their third year, they go out to pick strawberries at a farm. Bakugou is anxious about their relationship. They talk, feelings happen.

Bakugou could feel the sun blare down on his neck, burning the skin that wasn’t hidden under his hair. He always forgot to put on sunscreen, in general—not used to putting any sort of cream on his skin because of his quirk. Kirishima had been insistent on slathering his face with it when they had met up at his house.

They had gone out to pick strawberries in some local farm. He had come here at the behest of Kirishima, who had asked only once. Bakugou was now avoiding him, crouching down behind a bush of strawberries to keep his body hidden.

He picked the strawberries off, one by one, and slowly dropped them into a small basket that had been given to him at the gate of the farm. He liked the method to the act, examining the strawberries for blemishes, making sure to pull it by its stem, and the careful motion of getting the damned things into the basket unharmed.

He was getting kind of bored with it though. The uniformity had its merits, but Bakugou was growing dead bored.

There was a particular fruit that caught his eye. A small thing—barely the size of the nail of his thumb. He pulled it off the bush and gave it a look over—it was bright red all around. The light of the sun reflected off of it, giving it almost a healthy sort of glow.

He ripped the stem off the strawberry and popped it into his mouth whole.

Someone had once told him, long ago, that the best way to eat a strawberry was backwards. Fat part first, then go down to the tip. It was the part of the strawberry that burst with the most flavor, after all. Sometimes, it was good to do things unconventionally.

“Bakugou! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for like ten minutes, dude.”

Kirishima came into view, a genuine smile gleaming on his face. He had his hair down, he tended to keep it down when they went out alone together. Bakugou would never say it aloud—but he liked it when his hair was down. For one thing, Kirishima didn’t smell like an array of haircare products. He smelled more like his house did—an odd melody of fruit scents that came from all the candles his moms had. But under that he just smelled like all the other boys (and girls, if he was being honest) in their class—sweat and dirt and some odd tinge that Bakugou had always assumed was just what teenagers smelled like.

Bakugou looked down at his basket of fruits and huffed.

“Uh, so,” Kirishima said awkwardly—a bit louder then his usual cadence, “wanna get to some shade? This sun is killing me—ha.”

The sun did seem to be notoriously spikey today. It was midsummer, not quite into summer vacation yet. They were using their day off from school to do this. It had been a slow week, no internship drama, no particularly bombastic classes, no infiltrations, no kidnappings. Just sitting in class and taking notes—and whatever Kirishima did.

Bakugou stood up, making sure to take the basket up with him. He faced Kirishima, who wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It would not be a stretch to say that Bakugou was in a bad mood today. In fact, it was true—he was in a bad mood today.

Well, he was in a bad mood near every day. It was a side effect of being Bakugou—overthinking and overanalyzing everything that happened around you tended to put you on the bad side of the emotional spectrum. But sometimes, Kirishima could help with that.

The problem was, right now, Kirishima was not helping with that. In fact, his presence was doing the exact opposite. Bakugou catalogued his every fidget—every twist of his lips, how he kept cracking his knuckles, the way his eyes looked around at everything but him. And he knew— he knew, he knew, he knew—it was because of him.

They sat together on top of a wooden picnic table, both resting their feet on the bench they were supposed to be sitting on. Their small baskets rested between them, bundled together by a light blue ribbon. Kirishima kept his hands together on his lap, moving his fingers methodically in a distracting sort of way. In contrast, Bakugou had his arms spread out over the table top, leaning against them so that his body was angled back. He was staring up at the near cloudless sky and lamenting the lack of accessible shade.

Kirishima was talking about something, but Bakugou wasn’t listening—and he was sure Kirishima knew. Whatever he was saying, it was more for himself then Bakugou. “I need a fucking hat,” said Bakugou, completely unprovoked.

Kirishima glanced at him and laughed. “I bet the sun is really killing you—that’s what you get for not bothering to put on sunscreen. Now you’re gunna smell like aloe cream for days.”

“Pfft, as if I can’t handle a bit of pain. That aloe shit doesn’t heal anything—no point slathering it on unless you want to lessen the burn,” Bakugou held a hand up and activated his quirk, sending small sparks out of palm, “I’m used to it.”

“You don’t have to be used to it, dude. Sometimes it’s nice to not feel like shit.”

Bakugou shook his head and put his hand back down.

“When is that fucking truck coming though?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima shrugged. “The sign said the hours were scattered, but they gave approximations. Based on that, it should be here in fifteen minutes.” “My skin’s going to peel off by the time it gets here.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Bakugou hummed. He crossed his arms over his abdomen and leaned forward.

Kirishima tapped his shoulder. Bakugou looked back at him.

“I’m going to head to the, uh, entrance for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

Bakugou didn’t respond. He watched Kirishima get up and walk back to the building they had gotten their basket at in silence. He thought: Man, I’m really fucking up, right?

Kirishima had officially—like for real—confessed to him a month or so ago. They had gone on a few weird pseudo-dates since then, and they had all grown increasingly more uncomfortable then the last. He didn’t reply—he hadn’t said shit. He had kept his mouth shut and nodded—fucking nodded—when Kirishima told him he liked him.

The thing was, he knew. They both had known. Kirishima kept dragging him on dumb little dates and Bakugou went along with them all, unquestioningly. By the time they had gotten into their second year he had not even bothered to be jokingly antagonistic about it. Things were good, things had been good. Why had Kirishima messed it all up by confessing?

But—Kirishima wasn’t in the wrong, was he?

Love wasn’t something Bakugou was comfortable with. His parents were an unconventional mess of tough love and borderline abusive dynamics. He hadn’t formed a single balanced relationship until high school—he had only cultivated friends who praised him and demonized the one kid who ever bothered to see him as some kind of equal. Deku, fucking Deku.

“Honey, look—the truck’s just about here!” said some lady. There had been two other people waiting with them, two women who seemed to be in their late twenties. Bakugou sat up. There was a truck with a few people coming up the dirt road that intersected between the fields. It was the kind that had an open back—no real chairs. Instead it seemed to have bundles of straw as cushions. Bakugou felt itchy just thinking about it. He scratched his neck, regretting it quickly. He flinched at the feeling of his nails dragging over his skin. He was for sure already sunburnt.

“I—I made it—” said Kirishima, out of breath.

Bakugou turned to him. His whole body was heavying. He bent down, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. In one of his hands he had a plain sunhat—the same color of the straw on the back of the truck.

“I got this for you—so you wouldn’t end up messing your skin up anymore. I actually went back to see if they had any extra sunscreen—but they said they had just sold their last bottle. Guess I should have pushed harder to get you to put it on back home.”

“I wouldn’t have done it even if you have been more annoying about it.”

“Figured, that’s why I stopped when I did.”

Kirishima grabbed the bundle of strawberries and dropped the hat on top of Bakugou’s head.

“Mom, that was boring,” said a kid as he jumped off the truck—which Bakugou could have sworn had still been moving. A woman—his mother, presumedly—scrambled after him, tripping over her long maxi dress.

Bakugou sighed.

The women who were waiting with them—who had been sitting on another picnic table, pressed thigh to thigh and leaning their faces into each other, giggling all the while—got up and headed for the back of the truck. Bakugou was still thinking about the straw.

Kirishima grabbed his arm and started to pull him to the truck. Bakugou let himself be dragged. Internally he was going over all the ways to avoid touching the straw, but when he got his first good look at the back of the truck, he realized that was impossible.

He groaned.

The two women leaned against the only proper bale of straw, leaving the rest of the straw filled trunk ripe for the taking. Kirishima jumped up and took a corner. Bakugou followed reluctantly.

The driver got out of their seat and came to raise the door of the trunk. They said something in an incomprehensible language—Bakugou thought, some kind of English dialect? He looked at Kirishima to gauge if he had understood what the driver had said, only to see that he was completely zoned out, staring off at nothing in the distance. “She said to make sure to throw up outside of the car, and that the drive around won’t take more than twenty minutes at most,” said one of the women, “Patricia has a thick accent—she’s from the American south. It takes a while to get used to even if you know the language well.”

Bakugou nodded.

“Patricia and her wife have been running this farm for near thirty years by now,” said the other women. She had large spiral horns on either side of her forehead and was wearing dark circular sunglasses. She adjusted her glasses and continued. “They only just opened up to the public—they wanted to expand their business a bit. I think one of the restaurants they were providing for went out of business, and I suppose the little shop they run up front doesn’t bring in much traffic. They are going to start letting schools tour here—but they are trying to figure out an actual lesson plan to provide kids with to make it worthwhile.”

Internally, Bakugou wondered why she was dumping all this info on him. He didn’t say anything out loud, though. Kirishima seemed to be paying attention to what the horned women was saying.

“How did you two boys find your way here?” said her partner. She was far less remarkable in appearance, though she had odd freckle like spots all over her bare skin. They were just off enough that Bakugou could tell they weren’t actually freckles, but fuck if he could tell what they were supposed to be.

“My moms know the couple that runs the farm,” said Kirishima, “They suggested it when I asked them about where we,” he gestured between him and Bakugou, “should go for our next, um, date—" Kirishima looked at him apologetically.

Bakugou kept his face blank but met Kirishima’s gaze. The women seemed to not notice their exchange.

“That’s nice! It’s good to have verity in a relationship. But you two aren’t old enough to be getting bored of simple date spots. You are both from the city, right? I can tell from your accents. Long train ride? Lots of walking?”

“We took a train, for the most part,” Kirishima said, breaking eye contact with Bakugou, “We walked the rest of the way. It’s a nice area.”

“Where do you two go to school?” asked the horned women.

“We go to UA.”

“Oh! I thought I had recognized you from somewhere! I saw you two competing in the sports festival!” she said.

Her partner cut in with a loud sigh. She leaned her head back so that she was facing the sky and brought her knees to her chest. Dreamily, she said “Remember when you wanted to be a hero, Hana?”

The Hana snorted. “God, yeah, Sometimes I can’t believe how fucking long you’ve known me, Futaba. I was delusional in middle school. These things are useless.” She flicked one of her horns. “I would have to headbutt people for them to be effective in anyway. But man,” she said, leaning closer to Kirishima and Bakugou, “you guys are really doing it—training to be heroes. It’s a real admirable thing to do. When all is said and done, heroes have to give up a lot—people are always talking about how corrupted hero society must be—” Bakugou noted the annoyed look Hana’s partner sent her—“but even the bad eggs have to risk their lives and compromise their social lives. I don’t think I could handle something like that.”

Kirishima laughed weakly. “Yeah, sometimes I don’t think I can either—even with everything I’ve already done”

“Well, what ever may happen, just know we are rooting for you! Plus Ultra!” Hana said, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Both of you,” said Futaba, looking at Bakugou with a placid expression on her face.

By the time they were starting to leave, the sun was going down.

“Eijirou!” called one of the workers that had been managing the shop up front. She was an older woman, at least in her fifties. “Say hi to your moms for me! And tell them to visit!”

Kirishima waved back and yelled “Sure thing!”

“How do your moms know that lady—she seems much older than both of them,” said Bakugou in a passive tone. He had not been speaking much at all though the day, his thoughts lingering on Kirishima’s confession so many weeks ago. He thought—not for the first time that day—that he was starting to cut it close.

Kirishima shrugged. “I think they are part of some gay book club or something. Or like, some online chat? I don’t really know if they are that tech savvy, but I can’t imagine another way they would know people this far out in the country.”

Bakugou hummed in reply. His neck was still irritating him a bit, but it wasn’t as bad as it should have gotten because of the floppy hat Kirishima had given him. The sides of the hat bobbed as he walked, but he didn’t much mind. It was hard to be pissed at anything when he was so deep into his thoughts.

He had to say something about it.

The air was cool—not quite cold, it was nearly summer after all. The sun had been burning his skin so harshly he had not noticed. Now the sun was tamer, setting off in the horizon. It shrouded the flat fields they were walking past with hues of fire—mixes of red and orange that made even the dirt path they were on look like something fantastical.

Bakugou opened his mouth to speak—

“Is there a reason,” asked Kirishima, before any sound had passed through Bakugou’s lips, “that you don’t want to date me?”

Bakugou pursed his lips and looked away from Kirishima. His mind was blank.

“I always figured we had like, a thing going on. And I really like you as a friend—so that’s fine if that’s what you want. But you haven’t even properly rejected me. I get that you aren’t really used to this kind of thing—but you’ve kind of just left me hanging here, dude. I really don’t know what I should be doing.”

“Why should we even get together?”

“What?”

Bakugou slowed his pace and looked forward, staring down the near endless path they were going down. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Pro-heroes—they are like, idols. Their whole lives are dedicated to their work—All Might is old as fuck and he has never had a significant other—”

“Not that we know,” Kirishima cut in.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if we know about it or not. He’s not even married. A lot of pros aren’t—most of the best aren’t. And the others weren’t distracted with something as trivial as a boyfriend when they started their careers.”

“So, you’re saying I’d be a distraction?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I don’t want you to be one, is more like it.”

“You know, there’s plenty of others in our class that are dating—Midoriya and Uraraka? Hello? What’s the big deal with it?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Those two aren’t going to last.” He knew Deku since they were kids, whatever he had with Ochako was nothing special. He could see them drifting further away from their honeymoon phase—soon they would break up.

“You can’t just say that—that wasn’t even my point. What about Yaoyozoru and Jirou? You going to call bullshit on them too?”

“Why are you so obsessed with comparisons?”

“I’m just trying to understand what the problem is!”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Kirishima crossed his arms. Bakugou adjusted the straps on his backpack and picked up his pace. They were almost at the train station now.

“Me,” said Bakugou, talking down to his feet, “I’m the problem.”

Kirishima interjected, “You aren’t a problem.”

Bakugou shook his head, still looking down. In a strained voice he said, “I don’t—I can’t be a good boyfriend. I can’t be your boyfriend. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better—I want you.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Bakugou—look, I don’t get what’s wrong, but you have to know—whatever you think you are, how ever you see yourself—I’m fine with who you are. Us dating isn’t going to change anything.”

“It’s supposed to change everything.”

“I don’t care about what it’s supposed to do. Just –just give me an honest answer.”

“Honestly?” Bakugou asked. “Honestly—I never thought anyone would like me. In fact, I was fucking counting on it. I just wanted to be the number one hero—I didn’t care about anything or anyone else. I don’t want you to be a distraction—you don’t deserve to be one. But I might come to see you as one. And—that scares me.” Kirishima looked at him, but Bakugou didn’t meet his gaze.

They reached the station. It was nearly empty save a few employees that looked like they wished they were anywhere but here. In silence, they both passed through to the waiting area for the train. The next train was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes. It was already dark. If it were not for the dim lights hanging above, they would surely have been enveloped in pure black.

Bakugou leaned against a poll and waited near the edge of the ledge the dropped into the tracks. There was no colored line warning him that he was too close. “You haven’t given me an answer,” said Kirishima. He was standing a few steps behind Bakugou.

“You still want one?” Bakugou sneered.

“Dude, I know you. I know what I’ve signed up for—your stupid hyper focused ambition and all. I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit—I can handle your bullshit. I’ve been handling it.”

He walked forward and stood right besides Bakugou. He looked up to the sky, littered with stars beyond that which they saw in the city.

“I realized, a while ago, that I didn’t want to lose you,” said Kirishima, “I mean—I don’t know what I mean. But—you’re important to me. Whatever happens, what ever you want to be, whatever I become—I want to be there with you. And, we can do that as just friends if you want. I just want you to give me an actual answer. Do you like me back?”

“I feel like I’m in fucking middle school again.”

“Bakugou—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The both fell silent, but it was not an awkward sort. It was contemplative. Bakugou really did not feel like anything changed—and maybe nothing had.

“I hate moments like these. They remind me that I’m actually human. This sucks.”

Kirishima laughed. “I like that you're human—your manly hero persona is a plus too.”

Bakugou heard a whistle in the distance. He turned to the noise and saw faint lights coming up the tracks.

“Train's here,” Kirishima said.

“It’s about fucking time. Kirishima, the next date we go on better be under some fucking shade.”

“Sure, whatever you say, babe.”

Bakugou stiffened besides Kirishima.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he said, “no fucking pet names.”

Kirishima just laughed.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/19/17: THE WOLF MAN (1941)

One of my innermost sources of personal shame is how irresponsible I am about classic cinema. I’m usually very snooty about how little I care to have a timely opinion of every single think that gets shat out of the film industry as soon as it happens, but this pride in my stodgy pursuit of ONLY my own fetishistic micro-interests starts to fall apart whenever I have to admit that I still haven’t seen all of the Universal monster movies. I really don’t have an excuse. But, since I’d already seen Lon Chaney twice this Blogtober, I figured I might as well squeeze in THE WOLF MAN, a movie–and monster–that I probably think the least about, of everything in the classic pantheon.

First, the synopsis, which you know if you’re a better person than I: Joculatory expat Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney) returns from America to his ancestral Welsh home when he receives news that his brother has died. Their father Sir John (Claude Rains), though estranged from Larry these eighteen years, warms quickly enough to his remaining heir, as Larry warms to his surroundings–using a high powered telescope to identify a potential date in her boudoir. In his haste to get to know this Gwen (Evelyn Ankers) at her place of work, he lets her sell him a fancy cane topped with a heavy silver wolf’s head. This comes in handy when the already-betrothed Gwen surreptitiously invites her friend Jenny to join her on the “date” Larry has forced on her, and poor Jenny, for her trouble, is attacked by a wolf. Larry bludgeons the creature to death, too late to save Jenny, and afterward finds himself with three major problems: First, that the whole town has clocked him and Gwen as an illicit couple. Secondly, that the alleged wolf seems to have transmuted into a gypsie fortune teller (Bela Lugosi) from the local carnival, whose body bears the mark of Larry’s cane. Finally, and most importantly, that he may be transforming into a wolf himself.

THE WOLF MAN is a tragic tale, as are all of the Universal staples. It’s no secret that the monsters are meant to be much more relatable than the so-called heroes of these stories, with e.g. Dracula’s anguished quest for love being thwarted by normie hunk Jonathan Harker. This romance angle carries across many of the Universal tales, and although the idea that a werewolf can only be killed by someone who truly loves him was effectively popularized by AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON as late as 1981, George Waggner and Curt Siodmak’s 1941 movie takes on a rather different theme of sexual responsibility. THE WOLF MAN’s legendary special effects may not thrill audiences the way they once did, but the drama between Gwen, Larry, and the rest of the villagers feels just as dark, if not darker than it may have upon release. Larry’s destiny is only bound up with Gwen’s in so far as his pursuit of her leads to the accident of his werewolf bite. He is not so much a romantic as a product of his time, which is to say an absolute creep. He spies on Gwen at her dressing table, before stalking her at her place of work with disturbing hints that he’s been watching her. He demands a date countless times, and still shows up at closing time to pick her up after her continued rebuffs. Gwen’s smart trick of secretly inviting a friend feels admirably modern, and one really feels for her after Jenny’s death is popularly attributed–most especially by Jenny’s distraught mother–to innocent Gwen’s alleged tryst with a man who is not her fiancé. Meanwhile, when Larry is deprived of both his sexual conquest and his faith in reality, he quickly becomes a most pathetic character. Riddled with guilt and fear, he unwisely turns up at the funeral of one of his victims, gazing helplessly at the coffin under the heat of the mourners’ accusative stares. Gwen’s fiancé (Sir John’s gamekeeper, pointedly) generously describes him thusly: "Well, there’s something very tragic about that man. I’m sure that nothing but harm will come to you through him.“ Of course, nothing but harm comes to everyone through Larry, who utterly embodies the good time charlie who is so naive about his own behavior that he inevitably has nothing but “bad luck”. Actually, the most tragic figure of the whole film is Larry’s father, who has lost one son, and has to destroy the other due to that child’s own actions, in a twist of fate that he’ll surely never understand.

I’ll wrap up this line of interpretation by coopting a statement my beast fiend @ladyphibes has made, with which I wholeheartedly agree: Werewolves are overwhelmingly a boy thing. I had been noticing this all my life without ever articulating it to myself before she said it out loud. So many of the men I’ve known, dating back to an early age, have been obsessed with wolves and lycanthropy. There’s a lot to it, too: There are the pseudo-noble feelings of being the alpha of a pack; There is the self-satisfied punk isolation of a “lone wolf”; And of course, most of all, there is the eternal struggle between the civilized self, and the “beast within” that craves blood and sex. Werewolves also lend themselves far too easily to puberty metaphors that probably feel even more familiar to boys than many girls, with their creeping body hair, breaking “voices”, violent mood swings and impulsive destructiveness. All of this is probably why, with very few exceptions, I’ve stuck closer to less macho monster mythology for most of my movie-watching career. I’ll take my chaotic-evil cannibals and abject body horrors at a table for one, thanks; none of this patriarchal pack mentality for me. 

[digressfromreality]

Sometimes, We Survive By Forgetting

Synopsis: “You can erase someone from your mind. Getting them out of your heart is another story,“ Deidra whispered to her newest friend. A stray black dog she found, that had hurt himself outside of her home. What Deidra didn’t know that the stray dog, was her brother-in-law, Sirius Black, who was very surprised to find his brother’s wife very much alive after all these years.

Warning: SMUT, abuse/torture                        Part 5 of ….

(Past: December 18th 1995)

“Oh, bloody hell, more redheads.” Janelle complained, and Sirius nudged her warningly in the ribs. As if to say shut it.

“Their father,” he pointed to the children, “her husband,” he pointed to their mother now, “was just attacked. Try being sympathetic for once in your life.” Janelle bit her lip, for in fear of biting his head off. Not that she didn’t want to, but she wasn’t entirely cruel. This wasn’t the time, even though he deserved that and so much more.

Dumbledore was the only reason she hadn’t left. He had calmly explained that they still had work to do unlocking her past, while she grew accustomed to the wizarding world once again. Besides she had nowhere else to go for the moment, and she understood that he knew this. But Sirius rebuked any wrongdoing on his part. Her shaky trust in him, had been tainted beyond repair. Spending the last few weeks unable to even to look at him.

She stepped around Sirius sitting on the steps quietly, looking more morose than usual. The Weasley children filled in with somber faces: red irritated eyes and watery frowns. A majority shuttled passed her going down the hallway while a black-haired boy kept his distance, almost guiltily walking in Sirius’s arms.

“It’s good to see you Harry.” Sirius whispered. Hugging his godson tightly, Harry on the other hand halfheartedly returned the gesture.

“I shouldn’t be here, not when-” Sirius backed a bit to look at the young boy’s face as his sentence trailed off. His green eyes wouldn’t reach the concern grey eyes of his godfather, but Janelle could see. His eyes were swirling with culpability and shame, his face hardened with grief. She couldn’t help to wonder why he felt so poor. Perhaps he felt misplaced, and outsider looking in on a terrible, private moment of another family. The young boy shouldn’t feel like a stranger here, unlike her, she didn’t know this family, but he did. It was obvious their love for him, otherwise all the side glances and smiles she caught the family giving him over the last few months would of never happen.

“You’re here with me as well. Don’t worry so much Harry, we’ll have a grand Christmas together. Just us if you like.” Harry smiled, comforted by Sirius’s offer. He nodded, which enticed Sirius to give him a wolfish grin in return. He slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder, corral him towards the others in the kitchen. Sirius stopped quickly beside Janelle sitting on the stairs, surprising her as she tried not to look like she had been spying on their conversation.

The younger boy stared daggers at her as if she purposely intruded on the two conversing. “You’re welcomed to join the living, dear sister.” Harry was aghast at Sirius’s declaration. Janelle rolled her eyes at his pettiness. She waved them off. He shrugged, leading Harry farther down the hall. “Suit yourself.” She couldn’t help but wonder how an innocent boy bare such weight on his shoulders.

———————————-

(Current: End of April 1996)

Her body was almost wax, maybe, not that exactly, but it was the best she had felt in a while. No nightmares, mild aches, but expected aches, and somehow a soothing contentment. Maybe she had been slipped a draught?

“A correct assumption.” She had been slightly surprised by the unannounced guest in her cell, but her actions didn’t relay it. Her movement towards the ominous dark lord were lax and fluid, like she hadn’t been startled at all. Her confusion burned on the depths of her uninhibited mind. Why was he here? Why did she need to be coax into a comfortable state? Was he here to take advantage of her again?

“Personally, l like a well fed woman. But you will do.” Janelle turned her head, trying to look away from him. She must have nodded off, thus not hearing him approach her. The Dark Lord, only smiled at her avoidance. He began to toy with her hair, pausing hearing her mutter. “Speak louder Lady Black.” Janelle turned towards her former master, her current tormentor.

“Well fed? Who knew the Dark Lord fancied a thicker lass.” Janelle jested, even though she possibly could foresee it being the last thing she could very well ever said. To her horror, he neither narrowed his eyes nor gave her reprieve of the situation. No, his pale lips burst with laughter. He was laughing at her? He patted the side of her confused face as he paced in front of her.

“Yes, yes the wild card Janelle is still there. The one that spoke out of turn in hope of impressing her master. Humoring him so.”

“I-I don’t understand.” She admitted, his eyes danced with amusement. This wasn’t the response she had hoped for. A quick death or a curse to render her unconscious, but not comedic accolades.

“Let me clarify,” he pulled her up, forcing her to stand on her weakened legs. “Well fed also indicates a steady income, a stable home. No worries about finding your next meal, and having a little extra baggage to heat yourself against the frigid weather.” Janelle was trying to piece together what he had explained.

“A shapely woman because-”

“Because they had everything that I did not!” He snarled, holding her painfully close. She was trying to rationalize what he meant, had…had he been jealous? He was attracted towards the very people he envied? She had never thought of it that way, she only had to consider what marriage would serve her a better dowry and possible physical attraction.

“I know nothing of your upbringing.” She simply stated. She had no way to continue on his train of thought. All she could infer was that he had grown up shamelessly in poverty unlike her. She couldn’t relate.

“Of course. Little do. As I grew older, I found the very ones that captured my interest envy me back.” He pivoted back and forth, keeping them in a rhythm that only he could follow. She kept dragging her tired feet. “Starving and frequent beatings apparently meant a wealth of beauty. Never having to worry about the frivolous comforts, but rather the idea that being thin is attractive. Not magic, not skill set, but pure social vanity. Once I had discovered the face value of appearances, it only got easier to manipulate people into what I needed. No need to rely on the fear of threats, or money, people will bend over backwards for ones they find handsome. The irony in it all.”

Janelle pondered what he said, but still tripped over the idea that he had once been handsome. She had always seen him for the monster he is, and avoid any anger he may have had. “Now, now,” he chided, spinning her in such a way, she inadvertently clutched to him for support, “I believe we were having a pleasant conversation. Which is it, Janelle?”

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head, staring into his dark eyes.

“And here, I thought you vying for something other than physical attention,” she shivered uncontrollably, as he smirked down at her. He pressed her head against his skeleton like chest, flipping her messy hair over her shoulder. To address her, almost as a lover would. In an intimate embrace, whispering into her ear. He chuckled, which she certainly confirms that it wasn’t going to be sweet nothings. “To hinder my anger, you could tempt with an offer of information.”

“Information?” She whispered, clearly still in a daze. “What information could I possibly have that you already don’t?”

“Actual experience. You have firsthand knowledge that I wish to possess. There is a grave difference between seeing events unfold versus undergoing the events. Tell me what I want to know.”

“Of who?” Catching slightly was what he was referring to. She could hear the intake of air into his hollow chest as he stayed silent for a few moments. Her heart was pounding from anxiety, wondering desperately what answers he sought.

“Potter.” He snarled. “I want to know what that boy holds dear.”

“Sirius.” She whispers with little hesitation. “Sirius is important to the boy.”

———————————-

(Past: December 24th 1995)

“Stop.” She first commanded in a pseudo serious tone. The second occurrence had her laughing out her demand, “Stop already before I hex you.” Sirius released her from the shameful dance he had dragged her into, and he began dressing the elf heads on the wall with hats and beards. She giggled at the absurdity of it all. Sirius was in an extremely good mood to boot. The only thing Janelle could determine it was the appending holidays and a house full of people.

This had probably been the first year…in many, or ever that he had gotten to spend it with people he cared about. Even in the few memories of her childhood she couldn’t remember him being this happy really for anything. It pleased her in a way it shouldn’t. He still had lied to her, but his cheer was hard to ignore when he exuded it from every pore of his being. Of all the people that could have been immune, his godson spent a large portion of time avoiding others, looking downtrodden. He tried speaking to the boy on occasion, trying to spite the Christmas spirit out of him. Sirius danced across the hall sliding down the banter like a child drunk on a sugar high.

A lone door croak open and the young boy, grim as could be watching Sirius disappear. Janelle briefly waved, for the boy to stare back unsure of her. Lack of response, she knew that was to be expected. The small wave given in return, now that was surprising. He hid back in his room, as another door threw itself open. The bushy haired girl and redheads were laughing as they stomped down the stairs. She eyed the boy’s door before returning to her own room. She figured it wouldn’t be long before she was sought out.

A quiet knock about twenty minutes later had proven her right.

“Come in.” She announced. The boy awkwardly shuffled into her room. A bit apprehensive to get too close to her. She waited for him to speak.

“They talk about you.” He whispered quietly, trying to avoid her stare.

“What do you mean by that Harry?” She moved to sit on her leg, offering him to join her on the loveseat. He shook his head, refusing politely. He continued to lightly dust his fingers across the old relics across the room. He was very uncomfortable to talk to her and she hadn’t the slightest clue as to why.

“The others. Sirius. Order members. Snape. Him.” She laughed.

“You have the Dark Lord ready at your beck and call to discuss little ol’ me. I’m flattered Harry, but this is most we have ever spoken to each other. I’m much too old for you to be developin-”

“Don’t dismiss me. This isn’t funny.” He barked at her, she gasped. “I need to know.” The boy was ballsy when he wanted something. She would oblige his in hope to sate her inner curiosity.

“Need to know what?”

“Are you like Sirius, or Bellatrix?” Now that question had thrown her for a loop. She crossed her arms, a little perturbed by the question itself. Did she know she was…who she is?

“I suppose, a little of both. I don’t really know.” She decided to answer truthfully for once. She didn’t really know who she was, in past and present. And certainly, the future really frightened her in that prospect.

“Sirius seems at ease with you. Who are you to him?” Of course, he kept her a secret from the boy. She didn’t understand why that seemed to sting so bad.

“Who are you to him? Certainly not his bastard child, are you?” She snapped back.

“My parents were murdered by Voldemort.” She flinched. It was almost instinct to fear that name. “Sirius is my godfather.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better my parents are dead too.” Harry blatantly ignored her spiteful response. Malfoy had thrown his dead parents back in his face plenty of times. He was better than that to pick a fight with an unknown woman, a woman apparently that Sirius trusted to an extent. He posed his question again. She sighed, relenting to him finally. “A sister of sorts.”

“Liar.” She raised her eyebrow in mocked interest. “The Black tree doesn’t show of any sisters.”

“Wives, idiot boy. Of course, I’m not blood. I married into the Black family.” She chuckled, “Although, I was always more welcomed in the family than Sirius ever was. Even as little girl.”

“So, you were a Deatheater? Like Snape?” He spat out Severus’s name with such distain and venom. His self-righteous anger almost mimicked Sirius’s feelings towards the other man.

“I can’t say whether I turned spy. But-”

“If you never betrayed them, how are you allowed here?” Harry asked in a confused and hurried panic. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Apparently, I’m here to alleviate the stresses of the men. I’m either their wallflower, doormat or a teenage boy’s misplaced fantasy. Take your pick.” She really knew how to push the buttons of those closest to her.

“I’ve fought him before. I wouldn’t taunt me.” She smirked, the boy was lashing back at her.

“Hasn’t anyone told you?” She stood, her backbone straight, nearing peering face to face in the boy’s eyes. “If you’re going to threaten someone, you better have meant it.” The boy backed away, avoiding her gaze ashamed. “Now if you’re done trying to prove whatever it is, I would like to be left alone.” She dismissed him. He obeyed what she asked, turning from her to leave.

“Have you been possessed by him before?” She was very uncomfortable now, how did a fourteen-year-old boy turn the tables on her? She began fiddling with her hair, a nervous tick.

“I don’t believe so. But possession isn’t too hard. You must want it. Just as any unforgivable works. You must want to control every aspect of a person.” At least that is what Regulus’s memories had told her.

“In their dreams?”

“Manipulate, yes. Possession, no.” The boy let out a sigh, which she couldn’t decipher whether it was annoyance or relief. He quickly headed for the door, only to pause for a moment.

“Don’t go to the homecoming. Because if you’re wrong you-” he released a large breath, “-you’ll regret it.”

————————————–

(Current: End of April 1996)

He was very pleased by her information. Enough so, to let her please herself. He was going to allow her this luxury, just this once. He watched she feverish played with her wet sex. She laid on her stomach, which meant her arse was lifted slightly in the air. He was witnessed to her pulsing and withering under only her touch. She knew her body well.

He smirked, she knew more than she had originally lead him to believe. The godfather was the key to getting the boy to listen to his command. He had explained to him the importance of relationship between the boy and his surrogate father. And now, Voldemort would use this to his advantage. He would begin to toy with boy’s thoughts as soon as he had perfected it.

First, he would have to test the convincability of these visions on another that was close to dear Sirius Black. He turned his attention back towards the throbbing girl. He had yet to intervene, and she was close to reaching climax. That was something he would not allow. He swatted her hands, making her grunt with frustration. The resounding slap of skin had her biting her knuckles in heated desire. Her bottom was now raw, and her dripping arousal had been so close to be sated. She mewled when she felt his long fingers trace her.

“Move back and forth.” He coaxed, as his digits slid into her warmth. She moaned upon contact. He smirked, feeling the arousal that burned her. Her slick walls clamped on the ends of his fingers, as she slowly pulled forward. His tips rimmed her entrance before she quickly slammed down on them again, taking down to the knuckles this time. Greedy, she was. Terribly impatient for relief. He would allow her to set her own pace, to ride his fingers in a way that she could without total interference.

Pure bliss for the moment, a moment she wouldn’t remember. He smirked at the true sadist he was. Her current reprieve, her current pleasure, was all thanks to a combination of potions he had Severus brew. For now, she would enjoy her fun, but soon he will enjoy his for payment of the moments she wouldn’t remember.

—————————————-

“Good morning Janelle.” She turned from her paper to glare at him.

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me this early? I’ve barely had my toast, I don’t I can stomach you and my breakfast at the same time.” Sirius snorted, reaching over her to get at the teapot. She hissed in annoyance, now he was stealing all her freshly brewed tea.

“I’ll steal whatever I please Janelle.” He stated in such a nonchalant manner, she could hardly believe it.

“What did you just say?” She quickly asked as he sipped from his own cup.

“Nothing. Losing your mind already?” He grinned, while she scowled. She probably would if she had to spend the rest of her life stuck here with him.

The Dark lord smiled, watching Janelle twitch and pant in her ‘state’. Bella cackled circling the dazed girl, while Narcissa and Lucius stood back silently observing what their master wanted to show them.

“Input, anyone?” Lucius gulped taking a step further to examine Janelle better. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought she was having a nightmare.

“What is she seeing my lord?” Narcissa tried hard not to shiver when the Dark lord addressed her husband with unabashed excitement.

“Cousin Black,” he leaned closer to Lucius, “In a way that she certainly wouldn’t remember him.” He stated in a morbid glee. Narcissa finally understood what happen that day in the tub. He was testing her, testing to see if she could pick between her ideas and memories of Sirius with his own version. 

[rem-is-best-almond]

[Review] Dance with Devils Rem Kaginuki/ Arlond’s route

Rem is the poster boy and President of the Student Council. He’s also in that not-so-sweet-spot of being the Son of one of the main antagonists so there are routes where he plays the role of a villain.  He is my best boy in the anime and still is in the game yet unfortunately, his route never gave him the development he deserves which is a huge shame given how we barely knew anything about him in the anime. He’s also the game’s favourite punching bag cause all responsibilities seem to always fall on his shoulders whether or not he actually had anything to do with them :)))  His route seems fluffy but there are pretty fucked up moments in it if you asked me given how clones are common place in this route and there was also a semi-NTR scene...yeah, I’ll just stop here. 

[Spoilers under the cut , this is a summary of his whole route, including some CGs]

Left Door routes:      Lindo   Roen

Right Door Routes:  Mage    Urie   Shiki

<< Previous (Shiki)    Next (Lindo)>>   Final Thoughts >I

Unlike the anime, Rem starts off as Tamaki Suoh 2.0 in his route and casually teases and flirts with Ritsuka but in a much more classier way compared to Urie. At first,He helps Ritsuka in the search for her mother with ulterior motives to pry some information about the Grimoire out of her.  Eventually, she finds out about this from the trio and their supposed ‘friendship’ is broken. Despite that, Rem had already grown to care for her genuinely so he gives her a silent apology when he passed her by in the halls the next day. We later find out that he was ordered to search for the Grimoire by his abusive father and is punished for not obtaining it sooner. After finding out about the grimoire being inside of her, he puts on his villain persona and tells her to follow him so that he could figure out how to get the Grimoire out of her. She rejects him and runs away yet he couldn’t bring himself to chase her.

They end up having an awkward encounter in Ritsuka’s classroom after school as Rem was going around doing his President duties and Ritsuka, replacing her class representative at the last minute as she didn’t want to go home to face Lindo. She ends up venting to him about Lindo and he tells her that doubting the intentions of people who love her will only create a gap between her and them instead of bridging it. This makes Ritsuka question his need for the Grimoire and He explains that in the demon realm, there’s a class system that determines who reigns over it depending on your strength and that currently the Arlond family, Rem’s family were the ones at the top. But now that the Grimoire exists, his family’s status is put on the line and thus, as their heir, he has to make sure that no one gets it and obtain it for his family instead.  

Ritsuka praises him for his efforts to fulfill his responsibilities and this makes him go asfeggiyvjjsk internally and he even tries to run away. So things get rather messy and they find their faces inches apart because Rem prevented her from tripping over her chair (The shoujo classic lololol) (´���ﾉ｀*)ノ  Rem makes a cowardly excuse but doesn’t let go of her hand, so Ritsuka asks him if he really didn’t want to take this opportunity to kidnap her and he’s like ‘You sound like you really want me to’ and she denies it www . He leaves just as Azuna comes back from her errand.

Unfortunately, Ritsuka gets captured by Roen again as he lured her into a trap with a Rem clone. Rem comes to the rescue after Azuna accused him of being the one that kidnapped Ritsuka but Roen was not giving in as easily like he did before so he creates multiple clones of Maria. This triggers Ritsuka’s PTSD and Rem gets hurt by one of the clones while making an escape route because he didn’t want to hurt them. They manage to escape from Roen’s barrier and Ritsuka ends up crying due to her pent up frustration of being helpless in finding her mother so Rem promises that he will help her search for Maria. Unlike the other routes, this doesn't light a fire under their asses so sorry to say,they don't end up kissing here lololol (and because Rem is as dense as mercury) . Instead, Ritsuka finally realises that she was in love with Rem (´∀｀)♡

.The school festival rolls around and Ritsuka goes shopping for festival items with her friends.They end up bumping into Rem, who was investigating on ‘suspicious people’ lurking the streets near the school. Two of her friends invite him to join them and despite hesitating at first, he agrees (after taking a glance at Ritsuka huehue (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ ) much to Azuna's dismay.  So they both end up having a pseudo date together where Rem blabbers about Shogi when they came across a Shogi phone strap. He ends up buying the strap for himself and another for Ritsuka, telling her to keep it a secret as he doesn’t want the other students to think he’s playing favourites being the President and all www. Later that day,Roen reveals to Rem that taking the Grimoire would mean killing Ritsuka and this makes him heartbroken.

Meanwhile, Azuna notices that her friend was in love so she invites Rem, who’s still shaken up by the revelation,to join the both of them during the school festival, earning a disapproval from Lindo. Later that night, Rem and Ritsuka end up as the king and queen of the school dance much to Lindo’s dismay. On the way back home, the three of them were ambushed by vampires led by Jek. This ends up getting Azuna killed and Ritsuka's powers go berserk,  effectively killing all the vampires except Jek. Rem ends up bringing an unconscious Ritsuka and Lindo back to his mansion after forcing Jek to retreat back to Vampire HQ. Ritsuka finds herself unable to sleep because of what happened to Azuna and bumps into Rem.

She ends up falling asleep on his shoulder after letting out her emotions due to the death of her friend and Rem finally makes up his mind that he wanted to bring Ritsuka happiness and not pain so he’s going against his father’s orders. He also carries her back to her room. Ritsuka wakes up feeling much better the next morning and goes to greet Rem. Just as they were having a cute moment (depending on the Human Devil scenarios, u get 4 different cute scenes :3), Lindo comes running and accuses Rem of planning to kill Ritsuka on the night of the full moon. Rem denies this and this starts a fist fight between Lindo and him. Rem ends up confessing his true feelings in the midst of their fight as Ritsuka recovers from her initial shock due to this and stops Lindo from hitting Rem, saying that she loves him too. Lindo finally decides to let them talk alone and Rem uses the opportunity to confess to Ritsuka properly and they share an embrace.  

Human route:

The three of them form a plan to defeat the Vampires by using Ritsuka as bait. On the day of her birthday , the vampires attacked the school and Rem and Lindo go to confront them while Ritsuka stays in the library covered in a barrier. After defeating the suspiciously few vampires, Rem calls off the search for the Grimoire so the other guys call him nuts for going against his father and working together with an exorcist, and tell him that they will no longer follow his orders. Meanwhile, Jek manages to infiltrate the library’s barrier and threatens to kill a student who he had taken hostage if Ritsuka doesn’t follow him. Ritsuka decides to follow him while taking note of the magic GPS Rem has installed on her phone strap. Rem and Lindo realise too late that they’ve been tricked by Jek and comes back to find Ritsuka gone. Rem remembers about the magic GPS he had placed on her phone strap and uses that to find the Vampire’s hideout. Ritsuka is dressed up for the sacrificial ritual and as Jek mocks her attempts to escape, he shits bricks when he senses Rem and Lindo’s presence so he pulls her to Nestle’s throne room. He then confronts the both of them and at first thinks he’s defeated them so he reveals where he had taken Ritsuka as a last act of mercy but later finds out that he’s been tricked this time as Rem runs to save Ritsuka while Lindo stays to fight him.  Ritsuka is paralyzed by Nestle but Rem manages to stop him in time. Rem manages to defeat Nestle but he’s able to rise from the dead again because he hid his heart and now they have to find it to kill him.

Human end 1 (Good end):

Rem is outnumbered but thankfully, the trio came to the rescue. They say that they’re not gonna let him boss them around but that doesn’t mean they can’t help. They also brought along Lindo, who they have also helped in Jek’s defeat. Lindo and Rem then team up to defeat Nestle as somehow, Lindo was able to figure out where Nestle kept his heart. While Lindo distracts Nestle,Rem stabs the statue containing his heart and this kills him but before he dies, he places a curse on Ritsuka so that she’d remain in an illusion that everyone died because of her. Ritsuka wakes up to find Nestle and Jek instead of Rem and Lindo and this causes her powers to go berserk as the castle starts falling apart. Rem insists on saving her despite risking getting zapped to death. He manages to get close enough to her but gets stabbed by Ritsuka out of fear. Ignoring the pain, he kisses her and this manages to bring her back to her senses. They all manage to escape the castle along with an Unconscious Maria.

In the epilogue, Rem confronts his father and says that he’ll receive any punishment in exchange for letting him be with Ritsuka. His father doesn’t give him a sound approval and tells him to leave. Meanwhile, Urie was about to tell Ritsuka about shouta Rem but unfortunately,Rem comes back in time to stop him. Ritsuka is disappointed that they might have to leave now, but Rem’s like “I’m staying with you babe” and so the others decided to stay too. Lindo comes in to cockblock cause he still isn't willing to hand Ritsuka to Rem so the Trio drag him out of the library as Urie tells her to enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  Rem sofa-dons her to get her to tell him what secrets Urie told her about him and she tells him that she only wanted to know about his Shouta years. They then ichaicha happily in the third library ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Human end 2 (Bad end):

Ritsuka decides to take her fate into her own hands and awakens her powers. Rem manages to figure out where Nestle kept his heart so he and Ritsuka both work together to defeat Nestle as Ritsuka uses her powers to distract him and Rem uses the opportunity to stab the statue containing his heart. This effectively kills him as Lindo comes running, having defeated Jek too. They all leave the castle along with Maria. In the epilogue, Rem ends up having to say goodbye to Ritsuka as the death of Nestle and the Grimoire’s disappearance is causing chaos in the demon realm. Before he leaves, He promises that he’d come back for her someday in the future. After he left,Ritsuka continues on with her usual life.

Devil route:

Rem and Lindo go to rescue Maria from the Vampires and leave Ritsuka at the mansion. Before he leaves, they both exchange their king and queen crowns as a protective charm for each other. Rem and Lindo are confronted by Jek at the Vampire’s castle but he was no match for them and was defeated. Rem and Lindo successfully rescue Maria and head back to the mansion. Meanwhile, Rem’s father disguises himself as Rem and attempts to abduct Ritsuka. She manages to trick him into admitting that he wasn’t Rem by lying to him that she and Rem had bought their crowns instead and he introduces himself as Glax Arlond. He then strangles her and Rem is horrified to find this when he got back. Glax ends up taking Ritsuka back to the demon realm and sends some demons to stop Rem and Lindo from following him. Lindo offers to fend off the monsters and tells Rem to bring Ritsuka back. Ritsuka wakes up to find herself chained up as Glax orders the trio, who have moved over to Glax’s side , to kill Rem. Rem and the trio have a 3 on 1 and Rem ends up getting poisoned by Shiki’s arrow. But with the help of love ex machina, he manages to defeat them and runs to save Ritsuka.

Devil end 2 (Bad end):

Rem manages to find her and cuts off her chains. Ritsuka starts acting strange and ends up stabbing Rem with his own sword. Glax then appears out of nowhere and reveals that she was just a clone. As he lets Rem spend his last moments with the real Ritsuka, he mocks him for involving himself with human emotions and that he was a disgrace to the Arlond family. Before he dies, Rem tells Ritsuka that he’s sorry for not being able to fulfill his promise to her and tells her to escape by herself. As Ritsuka cries, Glax puts her unconscious to prepare for the Ritual. In the epilogue, he grants her a last wish and creates a Rem clone. Clone Rem proceeds to brainwash Ritsuka and when the time arrives, he kills her and Glax absorbs the Grimoire’s powers.

Devils end 1 (Good end):

Rem arrives at the throne room and there, Glax reveals that Ritsuka is actually the daughter of the previous devil King, Maksis who had tricked her mother into giving birth to her as the grimoire’s vessel. He then manipulates Rem into killing her by telling him to free her from her suffering. Ritsuka tells Rem that despite her fate as the Grimoire’s vessel, she never regretted having a life because she has people that love her dearly and even got to meet Rem because of it. Just as she thought Rem was really going to kill her, he ends up cutting off her chains revealing his fraud much to Glax’s anger. Both father and son end up having a battle and Rem manages to defeat him. Glax tells him to just kill him but Rem refuses and leaves with Ritsuka. In the epilogue, Rem calls Ritsuka to the third library and reveals to her about the news of him being appointed as the next King. He then asks her to come with him and that he isn’t taking no for an answer. Ritsuka’s like “Take me away Babeh” and they share a kiss. After some time, they finally get married and lived happily ever after.

Concluding Thoughts:

*long sigh* Honestly, this route turned out to be such a disappointment especially with the good endings cause as much as I want Rem to be happy, pulling a Deus ex Machina on things that are essential to his character development REALLY takes away from the experience. As much as I hate Glax, I agree that he was just another bad guy for the sake of being bad because we don’t know a single thing about him and that affected Rem’s backstory greatly if they even had one for him. I know people are saying that he has a tame human bad end but his death in Lindo’s human bad end was brutal so please excuse him for that. I can’t say that I wasn’t salty how it felt like the writer was much more delicate in handling the other characters’ emotions but decided to screw with Rem’s despite starting out strong. Rem is a character that hits close to home for me, so seeing him being treated as some kind of plot convenience was every bit of aggravating in my eyes. I’ll get more in depth about this in a later post because it’s going to be long.

Left Door routes:      Lindo   Roen

Right Door Routes:  Mage    Urie    Shiki

<< Previous (Shiki)    Next (Lindo)>>   Final Thoughts >I

[fallen029]

Parenthood: Mages and Masters

It wasn't as if Makarov didn't realize it. For some time, in fact, he'd known it. He was, as everyone was, dying. His race towards it, however, was nearing the finish line.

And though he'd resisted it at first, the best place for his final years was very much so in his grandson's home, where his great-grandsons and granddaughter-in-law were living. He honestly hadn't enjoyed his time away from the guild since, well, quite honestly, since Laxus was a boy. And even then, not nearly as much. He was dealing with the stress of Ivan and Laxus' well-being at time, which put a strain on things.

With Pike and Nathan, however, there was none of that. He'd do his duties down at the hall (or at least a limited version of them), before going back to the house to spend the day with his great-grandsons, playing and watching the eldest learn magic. Then there was the boy's cousin, Mace, who wasn't any blood relation to Makarov, but he didn't have to be. Those associated with Fairy Tail had been his family for so long, that it wasn't hard to just drag someone else into the mix. Especially someone that was so sweet as him.

Makarov spent as much time as he could with the three of them, sneaking junk food from Mirajane or staying up late in the old man's room, reading comics or watching movies on the lacrima. And even though at times his bones were stiff or his body was sore, the elderly man was always up for a walk around the block with them and their faithful mutt who, honestly, was on the wrong side middle age himself. For as much animosity as Laxus and the mutt had (or at least pretended to), he and Makarov were the exact opposite. He loved the old thing dearly.

Then again, it's not like his great-grandchildren would let him feel any other way.

Honestly, Makarov couldn't think of a single thing to add to his final years. Perhaps a woman, but short of that, he was pretty much set. He'd spend his mornings with Mirajane and the younger boys, eating breakfast and getting ready for the day before heading down to the guildhall. Shuffle through so papers, listen to the random disputes between guild members that might sprout up, hit on some of the younger women, get scolded by Mirajane, and be home by noon for lunchtime (and nap time, for him, mainly). Everything after that was always different, yet mostly the same. Just him and his boys.

What more could he ask for?

A granddaughter, apparently.

He'd never really known that he was missing another grandchild until she was there. Just having Nate, honestly, had been somewhat of a blessing, considering the start of his life didn't involve Laxus at all and, even when it did, it was with the intention of giving him away. Even once that all got resolved, Makarov had no way of knowing that Mirajane and Laxus would, eventually, have another son together. And Pike was just too perfect for words. Paired with Nate (and Mace, when he was around) Makarov was completely and utterly content.

But he didn't object at all to the addition of Ivory to his life.

Or Egg, rather, as Nate would insist that he called her. Quite forcefully.

"She likes that name better, Gramps," he'd complain if he caught him calling her by her proper name. "Egg. Don't you, Egg?"

He'd agree, of course, for the boy's sake. Honestly, Makarov was less interested in the new baby's name and, rather, just the idea of her in general. He'd never raised a daughter and, excluding the pseudo parenting he did down at the hall, had no experience in the like. And though he, obviously, wasn't raising any of his great-grandchildren (Mirajane and Laxus were quite competent in most aspects, more than making up for Ivan and the way he was with his son), he did have a big hand in rearing them. Laxus was quite the disciplinarian and a rather grouchy when the time called for it, something that, when he was dealing with his own son, Makarov found useful as well.

Not with Nate and Pike though. Oh no. He was always protecting them and commenting on Laxus' behavior towards them. The man in no way was unloving or abusive, but at times, he could be a bit much. And if the elderly man had played advocate for Laxus when he was a child and Ivan was being horrible, then he was downright a scapegoat for Pike and Nathan. He didn't like to see them punished for anything.

Anything.

It was rather doleful at times, as he would hold Ivory, and come to realize that more than likely, he wouldn't have those moments with her. He'd never have a chance to protect her from her father or mother's punishments for not sharing or poking her brother in the eye. Not have to cover for her when she spilled a drink all over the kitchen floor.

Because he wouldn't be there. At best, he had another good three years, but more than likely…

Nate and Pike were old enough that they'd already formed so many memories of the man that he was sure they'd carry him with them for the rest of their lives, but Ivory was just a baby. Ruefulness didn't even begin to describe how he felt when he considered that, though she meant so much to him in those final years, he wouldn't mean a thing to her.

So he didn't think about it. Or at least he didn't try to. The finality of death was rather morose on its own; no need to add to the ambiance of it all.

Besides, he frequently reminded himself, he wasn't doing it to be remembered. He didn't spend his days with them so that one day they'd all fondly recall it. Rather, he did it because he cared. Because he loved them. They were his legacy. Fairy Tail would, inevitably, change hands and another Master would begin his or her reign, effacing the Makarov Dreyar era. But his grandchildren? Nothing would take him out of them.

Nothing.

"What's wrong, Master?" Mirajane asked one morning after breakfast. She'd sent the boys off to go get dressed and for Nate to take a shower (he'd been stark against it the night before but, that morning, Mirajane was all business about it). "Are you okay?"

He was still sitting at the kitchen table, Ivory cradled in his arms. She had been up, as Mirajane had just fed and changed her, but drifted back off at some point. No doubt fearful of waking her once more, the man wasn't moving.

That wasn't what tipped the takeover mage off that something was up, however. Rather, it was the dour expression on the man's face as he stared down at his newest grandchild.

"Nothing, my dear. I just..."

"You have to get down to the hall," Mirajane gently reminded, though she didn't come over to take Ivory away. Only stayed over at the sink, where she was washing dishes. "Or are you not up for that this morning?"

"It's not… It's my chest, I think. I-"

"Not your heart," Mirajane interrupted, turning quickly to stare over at him, nearly dropping the plate in her hand at the same time. "Master? Do you need to go to-"

"Nothing like that," he was quick to assure her, glancing up. "It's only… I just need a day, is all. Do you think that you could take care of things at the-"

"Of course." Still, she didn't turn around. "But if you're not feeling well, please, let me take you to-"

"I promise you," he said, tone taking over that authoritative tone that she'd grown up with. "I am fine. I just need the day off, is all."

"Anything you want, Master."

He glanced back down at Ivory then, but still spoke to the baby's mother. "Thank you. I'll watch the-"

"Laxus is home," Mirajane reminded the man. "He just got back from his job late last night, is all, and still asleep. He'll watch the boys. And I'm sure with Elfman off that he'll come by to get them eventually and take them somewhere with Mace. You don't need to worry about anything."

Which was one of those things that was easier said than done. Still, Makarov nodded slightly as, to his surprise (and slight dismay) Ivory opened her eyes lazily. Their voices had no doubt disturbed her and, for a moment, he held his breath, ready for one of her loud wails that only a child of her age could make.

Instead, she just laid there, staring up at him he liked to pretend, but really nothing. At six months old, she was pretty content around the people in the house at that point. Mostly just Mirajane, but she seemed to recognize her father and brothers as well. Not to mention her Gramps.

That sneaky mutt, however, she was still extremely suspicious of. Especially when he started up that godawful barking. Ugh.

Makarov hardly noticed when Mirajane left the still unwashed dishes behind and went out of the room for a bit. It wasn't until Laxus appeared in the kitchen in her place that he knew what she'd done.

"Hey, Gramps," Laxus yawned, walking over to the man in some sleeping pants, scratching at his chest while he was at it. "You doin' alright this morn-"

"Your wife," he said simply as Ivory finally made some noise of discomfort, just from the sound of her father's voice, "is overreacting."

"What are you talkin' about?" Laxus wasn't as considerate as Mirajane and only came to take Ivory from the man at the sound of her cries. "I just got up and figured I'd come see what's for breakfast. And you were here so I-"

"Don't patronize me, Laxus. I know full well what you're-"

"You told the woman that your chest hurt," he pointed out, glancing down at Ivory before back at the man. "What did you want her to do?"

"That's out of context."

"If you're not sick or something-"

"I'm not."

''cause I don't want you dyin' in this house," Laxus told him with a frown. "I mean it, Gramps."

"Laxus!" they both heard from the living room where Mirajane was no doubt eavesdropping. "That is not something you should ever say!"

Still, the man only leaned down to nuzzle his head against the whining Ivory's gently before glancing at his grandfather again. He stared for a moment and seemed about ready to say something, but thought better of it, and only walked off.

Makarov wasn't alone for long, however (no one in that house ever was, really), as Pike, all dressed for the day, returned to join him at the table.

"Hi, Gramps," he greeted. "Do you wanna come play hide-and-seek with me? Before Nate gets out of the shower?"

On the end it was implied, of course, that once the older boy did, whatever they played would be at his discretion and therefore only gave them a short period of time to do what Pike wanted, so of course, the man agreed, slowly getting to his feet.

"You don't have to go to work?" Pike asked the man as, after being instructed to, he went to go stand in the corner of the kitchen and count. "Gramps?"

"Not today," he told him with a slight sigh. "I think I'm gonna spend the whole day playing with you. Would you like that?"

Immensely.

Nate was roped into the game rather quickly when he finished his shower, seemingly in a good mood that day. And things went well for a good hour. Mirajane, though rather apprehensive over it, left the household in Laxus' (somewhat) capable hands and headed out for the hall. Then the slayer just took Ivory with him back to bed and grumbled out something about not completely wrecking the place.

Honestly, Makarov thought that was the end of things for them.

Oh, if only he could be that lucky.

No one knew her family better than Mirajane and, to no surprise, Mace and Elfman did come by for the boys eventually and both went without a second thought. Nate, of course, wanted to do something fun and Pike, who usually was rather attached to his house, where things were safe, felt extremely comfortable around his uncle and only waved Gramps goodbye as he followed after them.

The man's mind was still bothering him a bit and he just didn't feel like making an appearance down at the hall that day. Instead, he headed back to his bedroom and, for awhile, just laid around on his bed, thinking. He must have fallen asleep at some point (he did that a lot), because next thing he knew, he was being joined in the room by the house's other future haunt, the dog.

And he just came to rest at the end of Makarov's bed and join him in a nap. Not much else for the two of them to do that day, it seemed.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon, when the man got up to find something to eat and encountered his grandson in the living room, watching the movie lacrima as Ivory sat in his lap, babbling a bit, that he even spoke to someone again.

"Good, you're up," was all Laxus said as he stood, abandoning the lacrima to go and gently pass Ivory off onto her grandfather. "I wanted to catch a quick shower, but she fusses every time I put her down. Think you can-"

"Of course," Makarov said, glancing down at the girl who, in his arms, made no move to even begin fussing. "I was just going to go make something to-"

"Let's go out to lunch," Laxus said suddenly. It should have been enough of a tip off to the old man that something was up, but he was so hungry that he didn't say anything. "Work some more on taking Ivory out in public, anyhow. You just cry so much at crowds, don't you, baby?"

And then the man patted his child on her head, messing up her tuff of white hair, before grunting at his grandfather and turning off to go grab that shower.

That was where he got trapped though, Makarov did. Because out at a patio cafe, with Ivory sitting in a highchair next to them, mostly just making a mess with the little bit of his mashed potatoes Laxus had sat in front of her (she'd just recently started solids and it seemed to be something she liked a lot) that the slayer said anything.

"You know, Gramps," he began as the old man mostly picked at his meal. He'd thought that he was hungry, but apparently not nearly as much as he'd assumed. Laxus, who had a full meal going over there (he'd just returned from a job; if he wanted to treat himself, damn it, he would, steak and all), picked up his beer and took a sip before saying, "Whatever's bothering you, it's best to just tell me. Else Mirajane'll keep hounding at you until-"

"There's nothing," his grandfather complained with a heavy frown, "wrong with me. Honestly, what is wrong with you kids? This is exactly why I did not wish to come stay with you. You're constantly in my business. I-"

"Calm down." Laxus was back to cutting at his steak. "I don't really care." As Makarov blinked, the slayer went on. "I just know that the demon will. You're not a little kid. I get it, alright? You're all...upset about having to give the guild hall up-"

"W-What?"

"Gramps, I mean, come on, it's obvious," the man went, seemingly at ease. "You're getting ready to hand the guild down to someone and you… You're nervous. I get that. About giving it to her. And that's fine. I don't care. I don't want it. I-"

"W-Wait, Laxus," his grandfather said, holding up at hand. "You think… Who do you think that I'm giving the guildhall to exactly?"

"Ain't it obvious?" He shrugged. "Erza, right? Makes sense."

"Laxus-"

"I don't care, Gramps. I know that Mirajane has you all convinced that, like, I'm going to be crushed or that this is my dream or something stupid like that, but there's no way that I could do it, you know? Give up taking my S-Class jobs to run this damn hall. For one, I've seen the jewels you rake in. Not nearly up to my standards."

"L-Laxus-"

"And I like to travel," he went on. "A lot. And get away from the house. I mean, don't get me wrong; I don't like leaving the demon out numbered with the boys and this one over here." And he even reached over to gently pat Ivory on the head who only giggled in response. "But I ain't a home dweller. And I know what I went through, what Ivan went through, with you being Master. I ain't gonna do that to my boys. I'mma be out there with them, on jobs. Not sitting around makin' rules and ruinin' their lives. I'm a mage, not a master."

For a moment Makarov could only sit there and stare. What could he say to that? Quite honestly, he'd long figured all of those things out. Erza wasn't even in consideration. He was going to hand the hall over to Laxus and make sure that, if things got too bad with him at the helm, Mirajane figured some way to get him out of the position and take over herself. Or appoint someone to the job.

But if Laxus didn't even want it…

"What?" his grandson asked when he only stared. "Was that not what was botherin' you?'

"No," Makarov said slowly. "Not at all."

It was, finally, Laxus turn to blink. Then he frowned.

"You weren't the least bit torn up about it then?" he asked with a slight snarl. The noise made Ivory stop playing in the potatoes and look to her father curiously. "That you were just going to hand the job over to Erza and skip over me without a single thought-"

"I was going to give you the hall, you dullard," Makarov told him. "But now that you don't want it, yes, I suppose I do have that to worry about as well. Thank you so much for-"

"You were giving me the hall?"

"Yes! Your wife has told me a thousand times about how you want it and-"

"And I've told her a thousand times that I don't. She just think that I'm only saying that to save face."

"Yes, well, perhaps that is something the two of you should get on the same page about, huh?" Makarov sat back in his seat in defeat. "So now I have to worry about my hall as well? That is just great."

Laxus still just stared. "If that's not what's bothering you then-"

"I said nothing was."

"Gramps-"

"And how egotistical of you to think that I would even consider your feelings in such a matter."

But Laxus didn't want to talk about that anymore. Shifting forwards in his chair, he stared hard at the man.

"What's wrong with you then? Gramps?" And his voice was soft as he stared over at the man. "Just tell me."

For a moment, they both only sat there, Makarov looking anywhere, but at his grandson. Then, slowly, he sighed before saying, "It is truly nothing. I am only… You do not understand what it is like, Laxus, to know that all of your friends are… There's no way for you to."

"Oh." And the slayer sat up then, stifled a bit, before saying, "I didn't realize you were feeling so… I mean, Gramps-"

"I'm not fearful of death," the man went on. "Of course."

"Of course."

"Recently, however, things have just felt rather-"

"I know that you're bored, Gramps," Laxus told him with a sigh. "And that we've been asking a lot of you with the kids. It's just-"

"It's not that at all." Just like that, the elderly man was lifting his head to stare at his grandson with wide eyes. "At all. I-"

"You don't gotta be so nice about it," he said. "I know that since Ivory got here we've been leaning too much on you and the boys-"

"There's nowhere I'd rather be right now than with them." And he meant it. "Rather, I've been feeling… It's something that you cannot comprehend yet, but to know that their lives are just beginning while mine is ending..."

Laxus, completely out of his element and, honestly, wishing that he'd left Mirajane to such a thing, shifted in his seat before saying, "Why would you think of that, Gramps? You're not, like, in dire straits right now or-"

"No more than usual."

"Then why even think about it? Huh?"

"Because, Laxus, there's no way to know that I'll know how close I am to...to...before it happens," the man told him, slightly exasperated with the conversation. "It could be tonight or tomorrow-"

"And I could die tonight or tomorrow or even in the next few minutes," his grandson argued. "So-"

"It's not the same."

"It is too." Laxus sat up straighter then. "I go out nearly weekly, Gramps, on S-Class jobs that I know that I might not come home from. Really, truly, deep down, I know that I'm not invincible, no matter what I tell the kids. And maybe, one day, I won't come home. But that's fine. Because I know that everything I did? As a mage? Was for them. All of it. And I gave them everything I could. Just like you did with Ivan and even me. So yeah, you'll have to go eventually, but everything you could give them, you did. Whether they remember it or not."

They both sat there for a good moment before, just like that, Ivory began sobbing.

"Oh, Ivory," Laxus groaned, getting to his feet before lifting her up. "Do you need a new diaper, silly?"

Horribly. And for someone to wipe those stupid potatoes off her fingers (palms, arms, face, and some of her hair). Not to mention she wanted a bottle. And soon. Potatoes were only good for some much.

That, however, effectively ended the conversation. Not that it made Makarov feel any better, not really, but it did bring him some amount of closure. Laxus was right, after all. When he was raising Ivan (and mostly raising Laxus), he put his life in jeopardy constantly with no thought to what it would bring. A mage couldn't worry about such things.

So why was he suddenly so concerned? Surely he didn't care more for Laxus' children than he did for the man himself...did he?

Hmmm.

"I won't, uh, mention this to Mirajane," Laxus told him when they arrived back home, Ivory happily napping in her stroller as the man pushed her along. "I'll just tell her that we talked and that everything is alright now. Okay?"

Not that he gave the man a chance to agree or disagree. Just rushed off to go get Ivory out of her stroller and into her crib for nap time. Laxus was nothing if not an attentive parent (and an awkward avoider).

Makarov was still feeling rather mopey that day still and, honestly, didn't feel much better until later that evening when Mirajane got home to make dinner and the boys returned from going out with their cousin and uncle, filled up on ice cream and adventure, both blabbering on to their father, who mostly didn't care, about it all. That left Ivory, however, with her grandfather to waste her last half hour before bedtime began.

They spent it sitting in the rocking chair in the old man's room, her in his lap, babbling sleepily while waiting for it to finally be time for Pike to read her to sleep.

He did that nightly.

"Gramps!" And then there was Nate, who mostly was concerned with the fact that Ivory was getting one-on-one time with the second to last person he wanted her to (Mirajane being, of course, the first). "What are you doing?"

"Mmmm," he sighed as the boy came unceremoniously into the room, bouncing around as he was still very hyped up. "Ivory and I are just-"

"Egg." He stopped hopping in front of the rocking chair. "You and Egg."

"Right. Egg and I were just sitting here, thinking."

"Egg doesn't think about things, Gramps," the boy said simply, reaching out to stroke his baby sister's cheek. "She just does them."

The man blinked. Then he nodded slightly. "I suppose so."

"Like Dad. He just does things. Or Uncle Elf. 'cause they're men!" Nate looked into his grandfather's eyes then. "Like you too, huh, Gramps?"

"I think about a lot of things, boy," he told him simply. "And it doesn't make me any less of a man."

Huh.

"Well," Nate said after a moment, "you went away when I was tellin' Dad about how, at the park, I beat Mace in a race from the bench all the way over to the fountain."

"I'd love to hear it now if-"

"Gramps! You wanna play-"

"No, Pike," Nate complained, not even glaring over at the bedroom door, which Pike was walking right on through. "He doesn't. Go play with Dad or the dog or by yourself or something."

"I-"

"You're fine, Pike," the elderly man sighed, closing his eyes as Ivory only snuggled closer to him. "Come sit down. Nate was going to tell us a story-"

"Well, now that you built it up," the older boy interrupted as, with a long sigh, his younger brother came to sit at his grandfather's feet and listen as well, "I should probably start from the beginning."

Which was fine. It carried them over to dinnertime, anyhow. And, before Mirajane came in there to get them, Makarov had to admit, even though Ivory was drooling a bit, Pike was humming very annoyingly, and Nate was just being long-winded for no reason other than to not give up the attention he was getting from the story, it was, by far, the best part of his day.

Even if he wasn't going to be with them for much longer, it was just as Laxus said. He was there as much as he possibly could be and, sometimes, that was enough.

Full Series

[thysside]

particularly boring and disjointed this time

There was a writer of a story I liked who allowed audience participation. When a weary angel protagonist seemed to be sharing feelings with a fallen angel or maybe a demon -- too early in the dream to recall -- I had a sort of brightly oblivious character come in like hey guys, what’s up! Everything okay here? The author sighed, and I felt like maybe I was fucking up the story, but then I was like, come on, this character was right there, are you saying this isn’t the reaction they’d have to a pseudo-enemy having an intense, possibly romantic conversation with our uncomfortable-looking friend? Later still, we got a plot where a character was a prisoner in one universe but his AU version was a ruler; they switched, and I thought, all right, here’s a good way to untangle the plot, and set the former prisoner to doing what he could in his new, more powerful role. We’d made maybe possibly a little bit of progress when the author mentioned maybe we should try focusing on fixing things using the other him from the other world, which I’d been planning to get around to, it’s just that the story had been focused on this world when I started making suggestions so I figured we’d start there instead of doing a major scene change. 

Another dream; I was at my mother’s place. I put down my cat and he bolted out the front door for some reason. He was outside in the driveway but there weren’t any cars around, and also I knew he was already dead and wouldn’t die again, so I wasn’t particularly concerned, though I knew we’d have to shoo him back in. All of this was too far back for pertinent or vivid details.

People were playing video games but it morphed and I had a toy action figure of one of the games’ main character, which I’d found in childhood storage somewhere. I spent some time putting his beefy arms on correctly. He came in this triangular prism-shaped spaceship/possible cryogenic chamber which you could open by pressing a button on top. There was also a horse toy that may have come with him? Later I opened the toy again and found there were a lot of accessories that I hadn’t remembered came with him: a plush pink-red robe, a red dress, long hair, a red bandana, a tiny brush stained red at the tip that may once have been meant to apply lipstick before it dried out way back in the 90s. I liked this whole vibe and was looking for a fine-point marker to reapply the lipstick when I realized the toy opened in two different ways and actually there had been this second figure, who was not the original figure, in there the whole time. I arranged them on the horse toy together with the original figure in front and the new one riding in back, arms wrapped around his chest to hang on. Then I was like, wait, no, why do gender roles like that, and switched them around.

At some point, and I cannot remember where it fits, I got in trouble for not braking properly and had to explain that no, look, the car just started doing this awful thing where the brakes don’t completely bring the car to a halt no matter how hard I stomp down, watch. Pointless, but I record it in case I later want some reckoning of just how often I have variations of this stupid dream.

I was waiting in line indoors somewhere to exit this building, cross a field, and enter a smaller store, which only admitted a certain number of people at one time. I kept moving back and forth in the line to try and get further from the people in it, but the woman behind me moved with me. I turned to ask if there was any reason she had decided not to maintain distance. She was taller than me, not wearing a mask, smirking, probably about to talk about how the virus wasn’t real and I was a sheep. We exchanged words I don’t remember which may have been that. I considered punching her in the face but didn’t want to get done up for assault. Instead I just told her that when I got into the store I was going to take my sweet time there to waste hers. Kind of a pointless claim since probably someone else would just leave anyway and give her access, but I hoped maybe she wouldn’t realize that, since she seemed dumb as hell.

When I did finally get access I decided I did not actually care enough to get whatever I’d been there for, so I slipped away while the people at the doors weren’t looking (so that they wouldn’t let the woman behind me in immediately) and wandered off instead. There was some kind of festival going on. Heard from what may have been embedded SCP agents that there had been a number of disappearances, too. Someone was there yelling out to crowds about how they could be categorized in certain ways (red, blue, green, yellow, lucky numbers, can’t remember) and he could tell them in each category what behavior would end in them being taken (yellow don’t head home between 8 and 9, that’s when they’ll be grabbing yellows). There was also what purported to be a fortune-telling toy vending machine, so I figured what the hell and put in some money. Got a small toy UFO which I was very happy with, since it matched the small toy alien I also had for whatever reason. Albeit, it then occurred to me, potentially an ominous prophecy that I would be abducted. Still, cute toy.

Because I was familiar with the paranormal underground and knew some tricks, I took to the skies to look at people? find my car? spend less effort walking? can’t remember, but decided to do so invisibly, to preserve the veil between normal humans and their knowledge of otherworldly things. Saw the maskless woman I’d been arguing with earlier floating a bit off the ground, just subtle, most people probably wouldn’t even notice. I hovered close by her and said into her ear, deeply and eerily, something to the effect that being so obvious makes it so easy for Them to decide who to take; she panicked and returned to the ground.

We’re getting into the early morning hours so naturally this is now a stress dream: I’m ready to leave, where did I park? I must have taken public transportation. Which bus was my bus? Oh no, I bet it’s that one, which is about to leave. Trip and fall into the road and almost get hit by the car I thought I could run fast enough to cross in front of. Now I am on the bus! Oh, hey, my paranormal knowledge means there are things it occurs to me to glance at, and this checklist by the steering wheel was last updated... a few hours ago? I mention this and get a vague hum in response. I think this is not the original bus driver. “Sorry, ma’am,” I say, backing off the bus. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I now do not have a ride home, but I haven’t been abducted or smote by changelings, so there’s that. Don’t remember anything after.

[reesesxxpieces-blog]

Chapter Nineteen : Home Sweet Home

Spencer With her face to his thigh, the exhaustion finally took the woman, bringing her to fall asleep in the one and only place she could achieve true sleep.  For more than an hour, she slept there at his thigh.  Twice the nurse attempted to wake her to no avail.  It wasn’t until the phone in the room rang, to which the nurse answered, coming to Spencer’s side to whisper in her ear that Rhys needed her upstairs in the nursery.  At the sound of his name, her eyes opened wide, bloodshot and exhausted, eyes scanning the room.  “Rhys what?”  She asked, her voice raspier than before as she realized where she was once again.  Hearing the nurse repeat what she had said, she rose to her feet, nodding her head as she leaned over John.  Her hand still in his, offering a firm squeeze there as she pressed her lips to his forehead.  “I’ll be back, I promise.”  Glancing up to the nurse, she requested that any and all future information on her husband’s condition be filtered directly to her first and foremost, done playing secondary information games.  She was back on her feet and as his legal partner, she wanted it all before it was filtered through the ranks.  The nurse easily agreed, as was customary within the hippa laws.  Spencer left her room number, as well as John’s cell phone number, as her own phone was still within her car in the parking lot.  As she opened the door, she came face to face with Judas and Jade, offering a quick apology for how long she was in there before she’d excuse herself upstairs to her own room where she would spend the next few hours with Rhys, awaiting further information from the doctor’s downstairs.

When finally Rhys was twenty-four hours old, discharge forms were brought to the room.  It was at this point that Spencer would come to face to face with that which she knew already; none of the things that were happening were supposed to happen on her own.  When asked if she had someone that could drive her home from the hospital, she nodded her head, asking only that she and Rhys be taken to the I.C.U.  With the staff in the know of the situation, they agreed, though it was customary to see the new mother and baby to the parking lot.  There in the I.C.U., with baby Rhys in her arms, she sought out Judas, finding that he was now in the room with John.  Not wanting to interrupt this time, she stood awkwardly outside of the door with Jade, waiting for Judas to emerge.  In the interim, Jade was doting on the infant she was just now laying eyes upon for the first time, going on and on about how she knew Spencer was pregnant even before she knew herself.  Spencer would offer a half-smile from time to time, attempting to be cordial there, when all she really wanted to do was ask Jade why she’d dropped off the face of the earth on her.  But instead, she’d bite her tongue, answering questions about how big he was, how much he weighed, enduring comments of how handsome he was, and how he looked just like John; all the while, waiting for Judas to emerge from the room.

Judas “That woman of yours, she ain’t easy, Johnny.” Judas sighed at his brothers side, fingertips grazing over the other man’s hand. An action that may have previously been scolded. They were men. They didn’t do that sort of thing. Yet, the need for that contact to assure Judas that he was still alive went a long way. “I’m trying. I am but…you’re better at this then I am. You’ve always been the Papa Bear. You take care of things. You hold it all down. I just fuck things up. I think it is time for you to take over. I’m apologizin’ in advance for anything I might do that you won’t like. I know you will find out about it. I’ll let you get one good shot in for that, not to mention for lettin’ them put you in a paper dress.” flashing an inappropriate and dimpled smirk though it was filled with sorrow and short as his eyes drank over the man before him still being sustained by the beeping of machines. He stood up, knowing his time was drawing short. “I’ll see you tomorrow…” somehow knowing that Johnny was listening to him, he kissed the man’s forehead before he was drawing back. Unable to turn his back on him as he made it towards the door, peaking it open where two cops still manned the door and meeting the faces of Spence and Jade along with the little guy. “Ah, Mister John Junior.” he teased of the infant as Jade held him, stealing a kiss of his cheek. Jade playfully reprimanding him for stealing her time.

Spencer As Judas exited the room, Spencer felt a bit of relief there.  She and Judas might not be close, but at this point in time he was about the only person she could honestly stomach that didn’t feel fake or like some sort of fair-weather sister in law.  Watching as he interacted with Rhys, she couldn’t help that nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach that if she kept up the way this first twenty-four hours had gone, the boy would think Judas his father instead of John.  As a nurse approached the room, Spencer grasped her arm, pulling her to the side.  “I don’t know what you might already know, but this guy in here, he’s my husband and that’s his newborn son right there.  He hasn’t been out of the hospital and exposed to no germs at all.  I was just wondering if maybe…” before she could ask, the nurse shook her head no, refusing to allow the child into the room, which Spencer already expected.  Nodding her head, she released a held breath, attempting not to get mouthy with the woman as she had already had her own altercation with her earlier that morning.  Spencer retreated back to where Jade and Judas were with Rhys, realizing she was going to have to get a lot of shit figured out real fast.  Her gut said to call her mother for help, but it wasn’t a possibility in the slightest.  She’d have to rely on purely Judas and Kenneth at this point, but knew John might not be too pleased with one of those options.  While Jade held the baby, that left Spencer the opportunity to slip down the hall a bit with Judas, needing to ask him a favor.  “Can I talk to you?” She asked, tilting her head to one side to gesture she’d like to talk down the hall a bit out of earshot.

Judas As they slipped away from the baby and Jade, he heard her question. A nod of his head though only able to wonder what she had in mind for him. “Your favors are scary.” he reminded her, recalling the first one that would have had his head on a pike with his brother. “Is it gonna’ get me in trouble?” The entertainer asked, fingers brushing through his hair as his back hit the wall down the hall. Away from Jade and the baby as his eyes slipped down towards that spot. He wasn’t attempting to play daddy. Just uncle. God knows there was hardly enough positive male attention in this family, much less positive attention in the first place.

Spencer “My favors aren’t scary,” she responded, shaking her head as that was entirely not true.  Her favors were direct and she made no secret of what she needed when she asked for one.  This one though, she was slightly nervous about.  “John and I had a deal… it was weeks ago when we first started talking about the house.  I told him I wanted Rhys’ first place he was taken to be to his permanent house.  The hospital won’t let me drive myself off the property… even though my car is right outside.  So essentially, I need you to drive me out of the parking lot, then back into the parking lot where I can then take my car and the actual favor here… the house keys.  Do you have them?”

Judas "Or I can just take youse." He offered, hearing his question where his hand was fishing in his pocket and withdrawing his keys. A specific keychain with one new, golden key upon it marked as the one. "We can come back and get your car later. I'll get Jade to help me, just need your keys." He stressed, as the woman was taking a round about way to an easy concept yet not seeing her issues with Jade. The woman had once been, essentially, his mother. Yet, she got a right to live to and had left it all behind for school. Not quite understanding that her and Jade weren't good for the jump as everything seemed okay for that brief moment in time.

Spencer “I don’t want you to take us anywhere but out of the lot and then back to my car.  Someone needs to be here with John,” she stated rather quickly, knowing he might not much like that which she was saying, but she couldn’t be at someone else’s mercy when it came to being carted around.  She needed time alone to figure things out, to figure them out herself.  She might not be able to walk in that house with John at this point in time, but she’d be damned if she was going to take Judas on as a pseudo dad to Rhys, going through the dad motions that John should be there for.  She wouldn’t let him be a placeholder for this, or anything else for that matter.  Making no mention of any issue with Jade, as that was an internal issue that even John wasn’t in the know of, she kept to the facts of what she wanted to happen here.  Everyone was so quick to say if she needed anything to let them know, this was her letting someone know what she needed.  “I want to take him and do like John and I planned.  John being here wasn’t part of the plan, but I want to stick to what we both wanted as best as I can.”  She attempted to explain, though she wasn’t sure this was going to make sense to anyone else, but if anyone else could potentially understand, she’d hope it would be the one person that had been helping John get the house ready.

Judas "Okay but like...I get you want that but he's not able right now. Let me help out, Spence. He'd want me to." He reminded her, as he was now in the place of his brother and doing a shitty job of it though met at with resistance every step of the way. Not seeking to rattle the woman, he only gave up a sigh of submission. "I'll do what you want but you ain't gettin' rid of me entirely. I'm going to be there for you. You are my sister, he is in my nephew...in this family, we don't got a lot going for us but we look after one another. One of the benefits of having that last name of yours."

Spencer “I didn’t say I wanted to get rid of you entirely…” she whispered under her breath, only finding herself misunderstood on the matter and chained by the last name by all of these people who suddenly wanted to be around.  She only tolerated it from Judas more because he had been so kind as to allow she and John to stay with him, even though in truth Spencer had never wanted that either.  Coming to realize what she wanted was falling lower and lower on the charts as everyone tried to do what they could for John.  Knowing she was just part of a package deal at this point as no one tried with her outside of the man.  She knew her place and it was not in the midst of a bunch of James’.  It was with John and with Rhys.  The rest was just where she had to be, not what she wanted in the slightest.  If she got what she wanted, she would have had two parents there, willing to put aside their differences with John for the sake of their grandchild.  If she had what she wanted, she would have had her husband in the room overnight with her instead of a brother in law who texted his congratulations when John made her cum the night before that.  She would have had her best friend there instead of a woman who had once been close to that, only to fall off the radar when Spencer needed her most, yet reappeared when John needed her most.  Spencer’s need to isolate herself and Rhys in that moment had nothing to do with anything outside of that she felt completely isolated anyways.  Everything felt fake to her when it came to interactions with these people who made it a constant reminder to her that John would want this or John would want that, yet she was met with argument when she mentioned what she wanted.  “Actually, if you could just give me the key to the house, I can take care of the rest,” she finally added, her eyes lifting up to his, just as bloodshot red as they had been throughout most of the day, just needing to complete what she and John had intended, then figure out how in the hell she was supposed to balance the needs of a newborn and her husband in I.C.U. where her newborn wasn’t permitted.  The situation was shit through and through and wasn’t getting any better, so it was at the point where she had to figure it out and the last place she could figure it out was surrounded by people who were telling her what John would and wouldn’t want as if she didn’t know her own husband.

Judas Hearing her speak, he wasn't getting through. Too hard headed to see his attempt to help her and the baby to ease their suffering. He wasn't going to fight her for it though. He nodded simply, looking down at his keys which he pulled off of his key rings and handed them to her. "You are gonna have some furniture delivered later in the day. I'll be by to stock your kitchen. You got my number if you need me." He resolved, willing to let her be if she so desired.

Spencer Her determination was deeply rooted in her need to sort things out, even if it meant striking out on her own to do it.  The way she saw it, these people had John and Rhys’ interests at heart, which was fine and appreciated, but just as she was feeling getting second and third hand information from everyone else about her husband’s condition, she felt the same about this.  She could stand on her own two feet when necessary and though in this, she didn’t know quite how to do that, she would not admit it to a soul in the process.  “Alright,” she agreed on the furniture, nodding her head in agreement, though she wasn’t too keen on him stocking her kitchen.  She’d figure it out.  “I’ll take care of it, in case I’m not there when you’d stop by.  Gonna go by the house and do what John and I had planned to do… then I need to go by your place and get a few things, then I’ll run by the store and be back here.  What time are they delivering furniture?”  She asked, wanting to tailor her plan to be there for that, although she was already feeling the weight of it all without even stepping a foot outside the hospital doors yet.  “Actually, fuck it.  This is too much.  I’ll call and cancel the furniture, take Rhys to the house as planned, grab some stuff from your place, shower and get back here…” Trying to work it all out in her head, she was failing.  There was literally no way she could do anything she felt she should be doing at this point, and be there for John.  She needed to be in three places at once and all she could think was this new baby was the one paying for all of this while she and Judas attempted to measure who this all affected more.  The need to run was there, but just as strongly as the need to build a fort there at John’s door, blocking out the world and staying with him.  Feeling torn was not something she was accustomed to and it wasn’t getting any better any faster as she attempted to sort it all out.  She wanted to be with John, but Rhys couldn’t, leaving her to literally have to choose between the man she loved and the child they loved; either way, she lost.  Shaking her head, she left Judas with the key, deciding to say fuck it to her and John’s plans to take Rhys home to his room first and foremost, instead determining the fort was about the best idea there was, even if it didn’t involve an actual fort being built.  She’d sit outside that room with Rhys, knowing as soon as John’s vitals were stable and he was out of the woods that he’d be moved to a normal room in which she and Rhys could room in with him and that would be the end of that battle, if only she could get through the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours or so.  Knowing she’d gotten through worse stake outs than this, she’d treat it in that manner.  “Nevermind,” she offered, scratching the entire thing out loud as she walked back over to Jade, allowing her to remain in her aunt heaven while Spencer took up a seat there on the floor by the door.  At a loss, yet unwilling to leave her child out there without her, she’d get as close to John as she could to wait out the darkest part of this process until things would start to look up.  Glancing back up to Judas, frustration there in her hues, she released a heavy sigh.  “Thank you for trying, but it’s not gonna work.”

Judas "It is gonna' work. Go home. Let him try out his new crib. Get some rest. Their is a pull out couch there at least and relax...John wo-" stopping just short of suggesting that John would want her to take of herself, to take Rhys home, to be away from his bedside table. The man held the keys heavy in his hand. "Let me watch him. I can lighten your load a little bit at least. When he gets another room, you and the baby can be up here all you want but for now...there is nothin' anyone can do. I'll call you with updates." Making the attempt though he doubted they'd be accepted, it was at least worth the go. She didn't call them family yet neither him nor Jade would allow anything to happen to the three of them.

Spencer Hearing Judas out at least from her seated position against the wall, it sounded so good, yet she knew she couldn’t actually sleep without John.  It had been that way since the time they married, always together, and shown itself fully to her over the last few months.  She couldn’t sleep without the man and that was all there was to it.  The idea of leaving John there had sounded good in theory at first, like she’d be completing what it was she and John had wanted for Rhys in the beginning, but now that the key was there before her to the house John had bought and worked on for them, all it felt like to her was a reminder that John wasn’t there and might never be there again.  Knowing she could never forgive herself if she were at home when something went wrong, finding out through a phone call or god forbid third party that John hadn’t made it.  Just the thoughts running through her mind would be enough to draw forth a fresh wave of tears washing into the woman’s eyes.  It didn’t work without John and that was all there was to it.  “I’m not going there until John takes us,” she finally resolved, shaking her head as her forehead lowered to her knees.  Her thoughts quickly returning to how excited John had been to show her the images two nights prior, before her heart was shattered twice over in twenty-four hours.  It was all too much and she was quickly losing her way.  She didn’t know right from wrong and felt herself closing off further and further, even from those that were there willing to do what John would want… The fact was, she couldn’t leave him.  She thought she could, but she couldn’t actually go through with it.  “If I leave, what if…” she began, unable to finish that statement before the tears were too heavy.  Keeping her head down, her eyes tightly closed, feeling as though she were being ripped apart from the inside all over again.  

Judas "He ain't gonna." He returned, knowing what she was thinking but it wasn't going to happen. He was fighting and would continue to fight. Now more than ever as he had tasted his first bit of Rhys love and wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. While John had the will, he had the way. "He's gonna be fine. You'll go back to that house. All three of youse but for now, punishin' yourself ain't gonna pull him back any further. He'll be back and you best believe someone is gonna pay the piper if we don't act right. Especially if what he deems as fit wasn't done for that boy over there." He reminded her. His first night out of a hospital spent out of his bed? Unacceptable. "Take him home...or at least let me take him home. His love for youse is written all over that house. Just don't let this baby lay up outside of a hospital room all night."

Spencer At first, he was getting somewhere with her.  Reminding her that John was a fighter was exactly what the woman needed to hear.  But as he went on, he went too far, telling her to take him home or to let someone else take him… just the thought of letting someone else take her child anywhere was unacceptable… then to go as far as to tell her not to let the child stay up outside of the hospital room all night, she’d shoot her head up in an instant.  Fire there at her eyes as she glared up at the man who had no room to tell her how to care for a child.  “Do not try to tell me what to do… you can suggest, and you can offer your help, but do not tell me what to do with me or Rhys.  I will do what I feel the need to fucking do and it will do you right to remember that,” she stated firmly, knowing regardless of his bloodline attachment to John, he could never truly understand what she was going through, nor would Jade.  No one in her immediate presence could possibly know what it was to have their spouse, their only attachment in the world lying defenseless at the hands of their own father all the while just an hour after their child was born.  When they should be celebrating the arrival of their son.  When everything should be looking the best it ever would, she was watching the walls fall and she’d be damned if anyone tried to tell her they understood.  Though Judas hadn’t said that exactly, his determination on what she should and shouldn’t do had finally pushed her too far.  She was doing the best she knew how to do and hearing from someone she barely knew about how she needed to do it differently was the last thing she needed.  Rising to her feet, she glanced to Rhys, then back to Judas before turning to Jade.  “How about you and Judas take a walk.  Rhys and I will hold down the fort while you’re gone.  I’m not asking, I’m highly suggesting.  Because if I hear the phrase ‘John would want’ or ‘take him home’ or ‘don’t let this baby’ one more time, I might lose it.”  Turning her eyes back to Judas as she was situating Rhys back into her own arms, she continued without missing a step.  “Go get some air.  Go home and get some rest.  Take a shower.  Do all of the things you want me to do, but do not tell me to leave him again.”

Judas "You think I'm afraid of you losin' it?" instantly drawing a reaction out of him as she spoke, 'suggesting.' She had a little too much mouth on her and not enough to back it up. Already ready to start back at her. To dig his teeth in regardless. "J..." Jade's voice sought him out, recognizing the tone in his voice despite the fact that he was trying to help all three of them. His eyes shot to Jade. "Relax." She counseled, swallowing hard. Judas looked back at Spencer and back at the baby. Sucking it up even if she wouldn't. "Don't make a fuckin' differences to me. Let her be here when 5 by 5 rolls in." Grabbing his nearby chair, giving it a push from the opposite wall of where Spencer was. Pushing it none too gently to the wall where he tossed her keys onto the ground between them and sat down. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Drawing his hat over his eyes, his arms crossed. Head leaning into the back wall as he got comfortable for the long haul knowing who was only a matter of time from entering the hospital as it was from that woman that this woman would be cut down to her size yet no one present wanted that for Johnny's sake or for the baby.

Spencer As Jade attempted to reel Judas in, Spencer showed no fear, nor would she.  It wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d come to blows with one of John’s kin, but in the eyes of that hospital as well as any other legal entity, Spencer was the one with the rights and she well knew it.  As Judas made his intentions known, there would be but one thing that would stand out to her aside from his direct disrespect for her own wishes, though they all seemed to be so intent on ‘helping’ as long as it was what they deemed John would want.  “When five by five rolls in… you think for one second that I’m going to allow your mother anywhere near John or this baby, you’ve got another fucking thing coming.”  Seemed Judas forgot a little something called the hipaa law, as well as the fact that legal kin was her placement, not his nor anyone else formerly connected to the man.  When it came to medical situations, it was her and her alone.  Aside from the fact that all she had to do was say one word to the officers at that door and she’d have the woman escorted from the premises without a single finger lifted.  “Better call her and tell her not to bother wasting her drug money for gas.  She’s denied entry now and right up until the point in time that John can tell me otherwise.”  She stated, playing that power card in that very moment just as she knew John would do to protect her from her own parents.  Delia lost her right to be near them the moment she told Spencer that John was fucking around on her, and if not then, then the time she showed up at their apartment and laid hands on Spencer.  There was no way Spencer would allow such and if it meant tossing out every single one of the James’, she’d do it and have legal standing to do so.  “Try me.”  She stated, glancing over her shoulder at the officers already well prepared to have them all removed, not giving two shits what any of them thought of her by the end of it.  Her job was to protect Rhys and John, not to suck up to any one of these that now made their intentions true there.  Not wanting to get her out of there for her best interest or even Rhys’, but for the piece of shit excuse of a mother to gain access.  Now that Spencer knew what he was up to, she was done with the man entirely; fate sealed.

Judas "Judas has been swaying her from being here all day and all night." Jade but in in defense of her brother as he was made into the enemy here when he didn't want his mother here either. Simply breathing and clicking his shoes into the floor in attempt to keep cool. Not out of fear of being kicked out. Out of respect for his brother knowing he'd say somethings he couldn't take back and he'd disrespect her. "If it was up to her, she would have been here last night. Both of us, Judas specifically, have been delaying her." Her tone simply suggesting that the other woman didn't know who her enemies were here and her allies when the older brother had been guarding his brothers door from their mother and not wrapped up in attempting to disrespect her wishes contrary to popular belief. "Nah, fuck it, Jade. Let her handle shit her way. She can do what she wants. When she winds up here and she's got all Delia's unnecessary 'mother of the year' drama and she's got a scene, she can remember that someone here her high and mighty ass chased off." Addressing Spencer as if she wasn't even there, he was giving up. Keys on the ground. His cellphone to follow. Giving proof that a Judas James tantrum was of legend. Especially when emotions were running high and he knew what was going to happen here. Standing up, knowing he had to remove himself as she was about to get what she wanted.

Spencer “Riiiight.  Keeping her away until what?  Magically you want me to take Rhys and leave for a little while?  To do something for us?  To take care of us?  All while knowing your mother is on her way?  Get the fuck off it, Judas.  You can’t go from saying you want what is best for us, to get some rest and so on and so on and then all of a sudden when I say I want to stay with your brother, then all of a sudden you are throwing your two-bit-whore of a mother at me?  That she’s coming rolling through here, like it’s some shit I ain’t faced down before?  So pick one.  You can’t have it both ways.  Either it’s a- you wanted us to go do what John and I had planned to do together, and maybe get a little rest or b- you were paving the way for your mother.  You don’t get to play both sides of it.  So which one is it?  You lyin’ then or you lyin’ now?  I don’t want to be a raging bitch here, but the only one of us with any fuckin’ right in that room is me and if you want to push me, I’ll make damn sure that I fully enact my rights as the spouse and thus trump any other fucker that wants to come this direction.  There are laws in place for this reason and I know that you know I am not afraid to take them, every one, for the full legal standing they were designed for.”  As she spoke to the man as he rose to his feet, she was already pulling out John’s phone, dialing the number to the department.  Bringing the phone to her ear, listening to the ringing on the other end as she awaited the voice on the other end that would do a far better job of keeping that woman at minimum a hundred feet from her and the baby, which at this point in time would include John as well.  While she was at it, she’d add in a few other names as well, including Judas, Jade, Gia, Vic, and Blade just to cover her bases if he wanted to push her.  Before that last ring, she glared in Judas’ direction.  “It’s your call, Judas.”  She stated as the voice on the other end of the phone picked up, stating the department’s name.  “This is Detective Spencer Reese James, requesting back up.”

Judas "Does your retarded ass really not get that I was tryin' to keep Delia from comin' after you AND laying eyes on that fuckin' baby? I was tryin' to handle this WITHOUT you. That is my fuckin' job here and that is my fuckin' brother in there. I know you don't get shit about blood. I know you don't get it but this is what your fuckin' blood did to mine!" Finally letting the yell emerge, he couldn't keep it down anymore. The woman knew nothing about the politics of this family. "SHE is going to blame you for him bein' laid up in that hospital and you know what? She might not be wrong. I didn't blame you for this shit once but now I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You don't know shit about me. You don't know shit about him. You don't know shit about this family and what we've been through but wait til he's back on his feet and he learns all about the bullshit you've been pullin'. We'll see whose call it is." He alleged, watching her call the cops making the man blatantly smirk. "Go right ahead, Spence. What are you and your cop buddies gonna do? Stab me? Bring 'em. You and your fuckin' partner and your whole department. I'll show you what that badge means around these parts. You are lucky you got that ring on your finger." He reminded her, the hand at his chest from Jade quickly becoming a push as she tried to talk him down before pushing him out. The guards stepping in to attempt to escort him out but by then he was already walking out. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Guess she's gettin' us all stabbed today." He muttered out loud before he hit the doors and was slipping into the parking lot to get the fuck out of there.

Spencer It was in this moment alone that Spencer would realize she literally had to look out for herself from now on.  This family wanted John back so damned bad, all of them, to throw the shit they had, she didn’t know how much more she could take.  She had dealt with Delia telling her months ago that John was cheating on her, with his own aunt of all people.  She had dealt with Blade saying he was fucking her.  She had dealt with Delia putting her hands on her in her own apartment.  She had dealt with more in one year than any one of them could ever understand, but the last thing she was going to do was stand here, holding their son, and listen to how she was the one that put John in that bed.  As he ran off at the mouth, she barely heard the voice on the other end of that phone asking her location.  “No, cancel that.  I’m fine.  Thanks.”  She stated as she hung up the phone and turned away from the door.  Thanks to Judas, she knew her place and it was not here.  It wasn’t anywhere close to here.  Nearly every one of them had pushed her away at some point in time, this one being Judas’ when he claimed he would understand when she broke.  She’d take whatever backlash came from John on this, if and when he woke up, but in the end, he’d have those people to thank for finally putting her out entirely.  The man none of them seemed to much want until God forbid she wanted him.  Someone who couldn’t be bothered with up until the point that he got a girl that actually wanted him.  But that was never good enough for any of them because they all wanted what they couldn’t have.  Damn John for getting a life better than the rest of them.  So much for family, as they were nothing like the kind of people she wanted her son raised around.  Her own father’s pride is what had drove that knife into John.  Not her.  The man who wanted to say the night before that this wasn’t her fault now decided to make it that it was, which shouldn’t be any surprise seeing as it was the second inconsistency in five minutes she had picked up on with him.  No.  He wanted to say John would buck against this when he woke up, then fine.  But she’d be damned if she was going to be the James family punching bag now or ever and she knew John wouldn’t have let half that shit fly if he had been there.  Unguarded.  Unprotected.  On her own.  Picking up the keys off the floor, careful not to drop Rhys in the process.  Tucking the keys as well as the phone into her pocket, she gave one last look to John through the window and took a turn down the hallway, knowing the nursing staff had already been instructed that all information on John’s condition came through her first and was not to be given to anyone else according to present law.  At that moment, she was officially done with the Reese family and the James family, left exactly where she always knew she was; on the outside.

——— Scene 2 ———

Spencer It was just another stake out, she reminded herself through that first night.  With a car seat on the floor beside her serving as a safe haven and resting spot for Rhys, she opted for the floor outside of John’s door just as she had done previously.  From time to time, she would leave Rhys with Jade to go in and be with John, but never for too terribly long as she couldn’t risk Delia’s arrival at this point, not wanting the woman to come near her son.  Not surprising, she hadn’t seen Judas any further, but was able to repair some of the damage done with Jade.  The two had been friends and although they grew apart for a period there, she seemed understanding enough about how Spencer was feeling about everything going on, seeming to bounce back rather quickly, even giving her words of encouragement on how to do the same with Judas.  

The next morning, Spencer finally dozed off there on the floor for the better part of an hour before Jade would wake her, finding Spencer in an exhausted state to finally encourage the woman to go home for just a couple of hours.  Spencer refused, as she had been protesting for a full day now, but even Jade could tell her resolve was declining.  “Maybe just for a shower and a nap, but then…” before Spencer could finish her words, Jade was agreeing, promising she’d stay in the meantime.  Reluctantly, Spencer rose to her feet, lifting the car seat after double checking the straps there against Rhys’ chest.  A diaper bag over one shoulder, her overnight back over the other, and a car seat in her hand, she’d check in with the nurse’s station one last time to ensure all updates came to her immediately.

With only a few personal things there in the bag, it would be enough, knowing nearly everything Rhys needed was already in her car from she and John’s shopping trip that had been interrupted when she went into labor.  A half hour later, she was pulling up in the driveway of the house.  A house she hadn’t seen yet.  A house John had bought for their family.  A house that she held the key to.  Too tired to notice Judas’ car on the edge of the street, she pulled into the driveway, getting her and Rhys out, leaving the car seat behind as she drug the two bags over her shoulder.  With the keys in hand, she slipped them into the handle as she spoke softly in a tired voice to the little one.  “Your dad was supposed to be here for this…” Already her voice was breaking just under those few words as she faced something she didn’t want to do without John.  “So you and I will just see this together for the first time.  See what daddy did for us, right?  Tell him about it later when he wakes up.”  Still talking to him, talking herself through this, convincing herself she could in fact do this.  Opening the door, she’d not be aware of anyone else in the home as she turned around and locked the door, eyes surveying the space as they came inside, tears already flooding her eyes entirely.  “I’m sorry, Rhys…” she whispered as she turned around, unlocking the door, pulling it open, not entirely sure she could do this on her own.  

Judas By the time the front door opened, Judas had already been hard at work for several hours. Closing the windows as it had sufficiently aired out and popping on the A/C so it was good and cooled down by the time his monster-in-law arrived. Going far beyond the call of duty. A stocked kitchen, a few bottle warmers set up around the house for her convenience, even the bathroom stocked with shampoo and soap. Down to the towel and supply closets, pantries and everything in between. Maybe overcompensating due to the pain in him. Regardless, he wasn't expecting her. Quite hoping to be gone by the time that front door opened but instead, he was making the bed in the master bedroom. Tucking in the edges before he was slipping into Rhys' room to assure it was all perfect. Johnny had wanted nothing to do with a traditional biker theme for obvious reason. A grey, white and black theme had won out. A custom graffitied decal of his name on the wall above his crib that had gone entirely too long uninhabited. Shelves stocked with onesies, diapers and blankets. All to assure this was as easy as possible before he was pulling back and preparing for his swift exit.

Spencer As she pulled open the door to leave, feeling every bit of how empty the house was without John there to proudly guide them through, to show off what he had done for them, to welcome his son into his own home, to welcome his wife the same, she’d hear the sound of feet against hardwood floors to stop her in her tracks.  Her gun and badge buried within her bag, already kicking herself for something she knew better than to do on John’s own words in their first day of marriage; she was to go nowhere unarmed and yet that was exactly what she was.  Easing the bags to the floor quietly, she slipped the zipper of her own bag opened, hand darting inside to find her firearm.  As she gripped the handle in her hand, she was already sick to her stomach at the fact that she was holding her infant son and gripping a pistol at the same time.  Taking the corner by the door as it seemed her best vantage point, yet afforded her being slightly out of sight from the hall where the noise was coming from, she brought the baby to her shoulder, her hand spanning his back to hold him close to her chest as she called out loudly.  “Hello?”  Eyeing the only other exit to the rear of the living space, leaving only windows throughout the home, she closed her eyes for only a moment, attempting to keep her emotions in check for the moment, though they were anything but.

Judas Hearing the voice downstairs, it didn't seem imperative to him to call out. Hardly the first time he'd have a firearm pulled on him and it wouldn't be the last. Keeping Rhys' door open to assure that everything cooled down, he was slipping towards the steps and down them. Appearing more and more each step as his eyes found the woman in the threshold. Not saying anything as he was on his way as he spotted her with that firearm. Glad to see she had it on her, especially with that baby. Stepping past her, the man made it a point to show her the spare that belonged to Johnny. Nothing a little flirting with the nurse couldn't land him, right? "Your kitchen is stocked...as everything else is. I got a grocery delivery set up twice a week. Just a standard order. Log in and password is on the fridge if or when you wanna' change it. Air is on 70...and everything is done." He remarked honestly, a wave of his spare key in his hand as he hung it up on the recently acquired keyring holder to the side of the door marking his exit.

Spencer As she made him out coming down the stairs, she’d lower the firearm to her side, breathing a sigh of relief.  The idea of firing that thing anywhere near a child was never something she would enjoy, but her own child, a chance of having it turned on her would be not only her end, but his.  Relaxing it there to her side, she listened as he fed her a massive amount of information in a short time period.  “Okay, thank you,” she offered, clearly her exhaustion stealing away all ammunition she had against the man the previous day.  “I didn’t expect to see you here…” she stated honestly, stepping slightly further inside the home than she ever thought she’d survive, placing the firearm to the countertop as she turned towards him as he hung up John’s keys.  “…but I’m glad you’re here.”  Entirely softer than her tone had been previously, she tilted Rhys back to the side in her arm as she had become quite accustomed to carrying him.  “I know I’m probably your least favorite person right now and I know I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said before, and for that there is no excuse.  Only my apologies.  I know you were only trying to help and I just wasn’t ready to hear it yet… I wasn’t fair to you.”  She paused for a moment, allowing that a moment to set in before she’d step towards him, hazel hues tinted with red as she looked up at him with no contempt in her eyes for the man.  “I don’t know the house, and honestly I wasn’t staying, but since you’re here… you think you’d like to do this with us?  Show Rhys his room, and maybe the place wouldn’t feel so wrong?”

Judas His eyes shifted down to the baby as she spoke to him. Unable to meet her in the eye. The weight of the betrayal too mighty for him. He wasn't his brother. He couldn't swallow it all down. He wasn't good at overcoming emotion. Maybe one day she'd understand why given the option between his mother and John, there was no option. His brother would always win. Maybe one day she'd understand this tangled weave in which Johnny was Delia's least favorite child yet being the favorited one was hardly a position of honor. Hearing her suggestion about his nephew, he nodded simply as he approached. Ready to take him. Not having much for the woman in that way. He had said things he didn't mean as well but wasn't quite ready to apologize. Maybe he'd warm up. As he took a step forward, there was the clumsy tap of nails on hardwood upstairs. Unfamiliar. Attempting to find his boundaries as the juvenile grey pit found the top of the steps. "He's afraid of the stairs. I had to carry him up there." He added as Scrappy looked on. Whining in sheer excitement.

Spencer It was entirely Jade’s doing that Spencer even had two feet inside the house to begin with.  The idea of coming here and doing this was still something that made everything else seem too real.  It wasn’t right to be here without John, but there was a part of her that thought maybe Judas would be the next best thing.  He had been the one to open his home to the two when Spencer was only a few months pregnant, going through that pregnancy around her enough, even if Spencer did mostly seem to hibernate in the room she and John shared.  He had been the one to tell her what was going on with John, then to stay the night with her in her hospital room, then to take her to see John, and for those things alone, she would be eternally grateful, even if she had let emotion take over the previous day in her outburst with him.  She could only hope that in time, Judas would find her intentions to be to protect the same brother he wanted to protect, as her love for John was as real and as deep as it got.  Going even this long without John was taking a toll on the woman and though she wished to say the worst of it was over, it was a promise she couldn’t necessarily keep.  He was her lifeline and without him, the woman was plain and simply lost.  It was then, as Judas approached Rhys, that Spencer’s attention would be taken to the sounding of his nails upstairs.  A piece of home that would feel like home, a bond that was preexisting without any damage to it at all.  “He was afraid of the stairs at the apartment too,” she commented, remembering she and John having to carry him up and down as well.  “He’ll be alright, in a few years…” she teased as she eased Rhys over into Judas’ arms.  “He’s so little, yet he gets heavy in a hurry,” she added, speaking of the child, but the same was true for the dog as well.

Judas "Because he's a little butterball." The man added of his nephew held within both arms as he looked down over him. Seeing him fast asleep as usual as he gently rocked him. Glancing up at Scrappy seemingly excited to meet his brother but still too scared of the steps. "I brought home one of his blankets and give it to Scraps, he knows his scent now so should make it a little easier for youse." He added, another reason he needed to flirt with the nurses. A little bit of dimple action got him a long way. "Go take a look 'round." he told her, knowing Johnny would be quite proud of his work here. "That husband of yours could be a contractor if he ever wanted to."

Spencer Unable to not smile at the butterball comment made there, she flashed a tired smile towards Judas.  “Think Mr. Rhys here has his second nickname,” she commented honestly as his father had offered the first one.  Slipping back from where Judas and Rhys were there near the door, her eyes shot instantly up to Scrappy.  “Hey, bud,” she offered in an excited tone he would easily recognize as the same one she’d use when she came home from work previously, only intensifying the clicking of the nails on the flooring.  “Well, come on… can’t carry you no more with Rhys around,” she added honestly as it just couldn’t happen.  He’d been replaced, at least in that aspect anyways.  Stepping in through the living space, she was already more than impressed.  When John promised her a home they could enjoy, that would be what she wanted, she never imagined it to be exactly what she wanted without having ever seen it.  “He’s a good man,” Spencer offered, as that was exactly what she saw in John.  Once she had made a single sweep there along the lower floor, opening closet doors, bathroom doors, truly shooting blind here, she finally returned to Rhys and Judas, slow on her feet from both awe and exhaustion.  “Think it’s time for Uncle Judas to do the honors?”  She asked, eyes shifting to the staircase where she was anxious to see the boy’s rooms.  Giving Judas the position that should have been John’s had not been an easy decision for her, yet once it was said and done, the woman knew she not only did the right thing, but what she believed John to have wanted as she knew he wouldn’t want to think of his wife in tears at the door, unable to enjoy all he had worked so hard for.

Judas "Yeah..." he hummed, only the second time that name had been used in truth as he knew someone carrying Rhys to bed would have made Johnny happy, even if it wasn't him. His son shouldn't have been the one to suffer as he approached the flight of the stairs. Glancing down into that face. Features becoming more clear everyday as his foot found one step, slowly slipping up into the Philly row home but attempting to not wake him up though it seemed impossible to do so.

Spencer A few steps behind him, she made her way up the stairs, her hand gliding there to the railing as she silently searched for John in the home.  Somewhere, she hoped she’d find him, or at least some part of him that would feel strong to her.  She was truly thankful Judas was there, as she would never have made it to that staircase, much less through the front door, but nothing would replace her husband being there.  Able to imagine his hand to the small of her back, the way they had walked the stairs at their own apartment a million times, barely able to get through the front door sometimes before they were at one another.  A warmth came over her as she drew in a slow breath, finding the landing there at the top of the stairs as Judas took those slow steps towards an open bedroom door.  Swallowing hard, she knew this had been John’s focus without even looking, as she had put so much weight on making sure the boy had a room to come home to, her eyes already welling up once again.

Judas Sliding into Rhys room which had cool down significantly, he was quite grateful of the fact given it was his first priority. "Has his own temperature controlled unit. Thermostat is right on the wall here." He added, knowing she was a few steps behind as he walked to the center of the room. An off white area rug under his feet. The furniture a solid white with blue/grey walls and a light grey and dark hardwood as accent colored. That decal on the wall being something Judas had acquired from an original graffiti artist print made specifically for him. "Well, you can't see your room if your eyes are closed..." playfully reprimanding the baby. He glanced back towards Spence. "What do you think?"

Spencer As she stepped inside, she had wondered how it would feel to have absolutely no say in what the baby’s room would look like, truly leaving it to John entirely as she knew he missed out on so much with River, wanting him to have the full experience with Rhys as he would never be taken from him, not for a minute.  Standing just inside the room, hearing him tease at Rhys, though she wasn’t laughing.  She wasn’t even smiling.  Truly overcome with emotion as she let her eyes slowly scan the space.  Doing her best to hold it together, she was failing miserably, though this wouldn’t be the rantings of a protective wife as it had been earlier.  Instead, it would be the depths of her soul being ripped apart as she looked at all John and Judas had put into this room and yet John wasn’t there to enjoy it.  Biting hard at her lower lip as she took another step into the room, losing her battle with those tears as she nodded her head softly.  “It’s beautiful,” she managed, barely getting the words out before the gates would open entirely and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop it.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning away from the room, stepping outside into the hall where she doubled over.  Her cry audible, with no chance of masking it from either Rhys or Judas, giving into the full feeling of it in a manner she couldn’t do in the hospital hallway the day before.  Something only Judas had witnessed in the privacy of her room when she found out what had happened to John.  There was no anger in this cry, just pure pain that could be felt just from the very sound of the woman falling apart at the seams just a few feet outside of Rhys’ bedroom.

Judas Glancing down towards the baby as Spencer broke down in the hallway, he frowned softly. Walking to the corner of the room where a rocking chair stood, sitting down within it as he brought the baby to his chest. Assuring his airway was clear and his nose as he rocked gently back into it. Rubbing his back. Knowing that he was a poor replacement from his brother but he had worked hard on the room and would be back to see it in action. When it wasn't clean anymore and covered in the contents of that shelf. "Soon, bud. Soon." He seemed to promise his nephew. "You and Riv will be able to play in here..." he hummed, pressing his lips to that tiny nose. "And daddy will be right here in this chair instead of me because he's better here then I am." Having no shame in admitting it, Johnny had been paternal since he had been walking.

Spencer The low voice of Judas was not heard through her sobs as he conversed with Rhys within the room.  Making no attempt to bring herself to a calmer state as this would be the first time she truly unleashed every ounce of emotion there within her without fear of spectator.  Knowing well that Judas could hear her melt down, the two had been through enough now that she felt no need to shield it from him either.  The wails of a heartbroken woman as she sunk to the floor outside the child’s doorway in a home unfamiliar to her, yet knowing it was made for her and the boys, she felt little comfort there as she simply couldn’t see it yet.  All she could see in that moment was John’s absence as her mind played tricks on her that it could be that this was the way it was from here on out.  If John wasn’t to make it, Judas would be the only James to show Rhys what a father looked like, but with the word uncle attached.  He wouldn’t have someone to call daddy and worse than that, he wouldn’t /know/ John.  The John she knew.  The John that held her as she cried early in their marriage when her father was displeased with her decision to marry him.  The one who would gather her up and piece her back together when the entire world felt as though they hated her.  The one who didn’t judge her for her wrongdoings as he seemed to know the good in her that she often had to keep under wraps.  It wouldn��t take but a moment there on the floor before Scrappy was there to her feet, laying down against her as his nose nudged her knee, demanding her to focus to him instead of the sadness when in truth, he didn’t understand even more than she didn’t, but it was in that gesture that she would bring her hand to the top of his head, petting him as she whispered through her tears a fresh round of apologies for that which she had put into motion.  

Judas He thought to comfort her but then he remembered what happened the last time he made the attempt. She was inconsolable. So he stuck to the one thing he knew he could do. Tend to the baby who was fast asleep. Each day, his parents distinctive blend of characteristics bled through. Looking a bit more like John each day. Wondering if it was just him having gone so long without seeing his brothers face without the obscurity of tubes and masks. Hearing a soft coo or two from his lips as if he knew exactly what his uncle was talking about.

Spencer It would take Scrappy but a matter of minutes to have Spencer’s tears calming as if the dog designed it that way.  Inching his way closer and closer to her until he was completely on her lap, making himself the center of this reunion.  The house was quiet, and far more space than she or John were accustomed to having.  As the watery haze cleared from her eyes, she encouraged Scrappy to move off of her so she could stand.  While Judas was there in the bedroom with Rhys, she would collect herself up off the floor before easing into the doorway of Rhys’ room to find Judas in the rocking chair.  The sight should have upset her all over again as that was surely to be John’s favorite place in the house, but instead, it felt as though she were just glad there was someone there who loved that boy almost as much as John did.  Her own family couldn’t help her and though she had been reluctant to take help from anyone up until now, it was in this moment that she would realize how much she needed that help.  “I know you have stuff of your own to handle and take care of, but… if you could stay a while?”  The offer was placed, not only her invitation to him to stay beyond that basic tour, but a means of admitting her need for not only help, but company as well.  

Judas "I don't got shit, actually." He stated simply, this was what life looked like for Judas in his attempt at sobriety. Isolation. Swallowing down his urges. Quite frankly, he intended to stay regardless. Nodding. "I'll be here." He stated, hardly having to clear out his schedule. Looking back down at this baby of hers before back up. "When he goes in his crib, you think should be the one to put him in?" He asked her curiously, not that his arms were getting tired, he could have sat there all day. Listening to his calm breathing as he slept the day away. Unaware of the chaos he had entered.

Spencer With confirmation that he was free, it was enough for her not to feel guilty for taking him away from something else.  Truth be told, she didn’t want to be alone there in the house and though she had arrived to bravely do this herself, she hadn’t made it two feet inside without Judas.  It was a hard thing for Spencer to admit she needed someone, but there she was, doing just that.  As his eyes met hers again, asking about that first time into the crib, she’d enter the room.  Silently crossing the space, she leaned down into the baby there in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as her hand smoothed against the cap still atop his head.  “I love you,” she whispered, words that would be now freely exchanged in that home without fear of a passerby overhearing.  Words that would no longer be held back or spoken in code as that child deserved to hear them towards him and between his parents, showing him what love looked like as soon as John was within those walls.  Leaning back up, she shook her head.  “You are more than welcome,” she assured as she found herself further within that room than she had made it the time prior.  “Pretty sure I’m in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes,” she spoke honestly as she’d worn the same thing for two days straight now.  “I have some clothes in the bag downstairs I’ll bring up, if you could tell me which door holds the path to a strong shower head?”  She asked, offering almost a smile as she found the courage to move about the house as if it were her own and try to do what she promised Jade she would do.  A shower, maybe a little sleep, and then return to the hospital with John once again.

Judas Watching her with the baby who deserved all the love in the world, the James kids had sought to break the cycle. Delia only spoke those words when she wanted something and her own mother had been rather stingy with such affection. Yet, this generation would shatter the pattern. As she mentioned a shower, he nodded. Standing slowly. "Yeah, you got two bathrooms actually. Hall bathroom and your master bathroom..." he began, walking with the baby in tow to the door of the hallway. A room still in progress belonging to River was left open as the paint had been drying within as well, a bathroom and her master bedroom. Beige colored walls with expert crown molding and hardwood floors. Still a blank canvas in many ways to the woman's design aspirations. He walked her to one of the two doors. The other being the closet. Wrapping his knuckles at it before he was slipping back out of the bedroom "and hey...you got an envelope there for you on your side table but I think it'll be a weeper. Don't open it unless you are prepared..."

Spencer Not meaning for Judas to stand, she’d follow him out of the room just the same, thankful he was there for that which remained of the guided tour of the home.  As they passed, her eyes drifted to River’s room, that boy being her driving force in truly wanting to do this.  Sure, a part of her wanted it for Rhys, but a strong part of her wanted it for River in their attempt to bring him here, knowing they couldn’t do so without an adequate space to bring him home into.  As the door to the master opened, she stepped within as Judas pointed out for her which was the bathroom and which was the closet.  With the motion of the side table, and an envelope there upon it, she felt her breath stolen already.  Nodding her head, literally waiting for Judas and Rhys to exit the room.  She had been searching for John throughout the time they entered the home, wanting to feel as though he was there in those walls with them, and now she knew where she’d be finding him.  “Thank you,” she whispered, already taking a seat upon the edge of the bed as her hands reached for that envelope.  Holding it to her lap as she met Judas’ eyes once more, a word of warning to him without a word spoken that she’d be opening it.  She had no choice but to open it.  “Leave the door cracked?”  She asked, her own way of saying he was welcome to come back in as the door would not be open at all should she be undressed.  A strong bite there at her lower lip as she opened the envelope, fingertips gripping that which was within as the door was pulled just to the edge of the frame.

Judas "Yessurp." He answered, baby in tow as he stepped out and left the door cracked. Not going to be too far away as Scrappy followed suit behind him. Leaving her to her own devices and that envelope. The envelope reading "Spencer" in his barely legible handwriting. What a doctor would call dyslexia had rendered him terrified of writing and reading, yet, he had made the effort. Within was a thick stock card addressed to her for their first anniversary. The sloppy ink reading within "thank you for sticking by me when I couldn't stick by myself. You put in the work on me more than anyone was ever willing to. We share this milestone along with Rhys' birth. See you next year, love JohnNNY.' A small bit of humor before a P.S. was added. 'I got you a new ring. The old one was a disguise. This one isn't.' A crooked arrow to the back where her brand new wedding ring was tapped to the back. Ironic considering the white golden and prestigious clear cut diamonds encrusted within to be embedded in tape but he had his way about him.

Spencer With all else going on, she hadn’t thought for one moment that John had paid any attention to their approaching anniversary which was upon them.  All excitement was wrapped up in the birth of Rhys, but as she withdrew the stock card from the envelope, she would realize all at once just what she had always been fighting for.  This man who didn’t know love now knew it through and through.  Appreciating each letter written on that card and envelope, the first things he had ever written for her, she pulled the card into her chest without even flipping it over.  The bite at her lower lip fading as the trembling of that lip was simply too much to keep the hold in line.  “God, John,” she managed before turning to her side, leaning back against the bed, over to her side as she held onto the card as if it were his hand.  The pause in tears for the last few minutes would prove to be nothing more than building a reservoir for that which would fall from her eyes now.  Not only was she to be in this house, in this room, without him, but now to have this card that should have been passed from his hands to her own where she’d now be meeting his light eyes.  Her own eyes closing, she pictured him in just that manner, before her, giving her that card with a smirk to his lips.  She’d set the card to the side, bringing both hands to the man’s face, pressing her lips softly to his as she uttered words to his lips that were only shared between them in private.  She could see all of it as the tape was removed and she’d slip the ring to his hand to place on her finger, as it was the only way she could imagine it going.  But as she opened her wet eyes, John was not before her.  Instead, she was alone there in the room he made for them in the house he bought and worked on for their family.  Instead, her fingers were there to the tape, unable to clearly see those details for the tears in her eyes.  Holding a band of white gold pinched between her fingers as she pressed her lips to a stone John chose for her.  Her free hand still holding that card that would be nearly impossible to take from her now, though she could no longer make out the words against the paper.  Tears flooding her over, just when she thought she had gotten herself together.  Now back at square one, finding depths within her that ached though she’d never felt anything quite so deep before.  Should John see her now, he would know just how deeply tied to the man she was, just how in love she was with him when she was sure there must’ve been times he questioned it.  The same words passing her lips again, finding there to be no others as she attempted to dry her eyes, wanting to see that which he had picked for her, though each time she’d wipe them away, she’d get but a flash of that which was before her before her vision was clouded all over again.

-June 2, 2016