#YES I know Mae was eight years old

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

Hmmm it's almost like selfish attachment is a bad thing that leads to death and destruction! Like trying to control what the people in your life do instead of letting them be free to make their own choices, even if that means losing them, is not what a force-user (or anyone, really) should do!

[2stepadmiral]

So I have some thoughts on tonight‘s episode of acolyte, thoughts that I don’t think are being considered widely enough. The general response seems to be, from what I can tell and what I’ve seen online, that the witches were pretty much just doing their own thing, and the Jedi just showed up and started being assholes, and I’ve kind of got to argue against that.

Now to be fair, the topic of Jedi recruiting children has always been a bit of a problematic thing. From what I can tell, Jedi never just take children from their parents, but they do strongly encourage and probably to some degree manipulate parents to get permission. Definitely problematic. However, the situation with Osha was pretty obviously very different. Osha wasn’t an infant or a young toddler who just found, tested, and then convinced their parents to hand her over. She’s an eight-year-old girl who is visibly uncomfortable with what her parents, sister, and community expect from her.

She has said several times that she doesn’t want to be a witch, and in every instance, her reluctance is casually dismissed. Whether it’s Mae pulling the bossy sibling who knows best routine, Koril trying to aggressively shut down any dissent, or Aniseya affectionately assuring her that she will eventually grow out of her silly individualism, everyone in her immediate vicinity is basically telling her what she wants doesn’t matter. Then, Sol and Indara show up, and one of the first things they do is recognize Osha’s individual wants and encourage her to act on them. Yes, what Osha wants is in line with what they want, and as a child, she doesn’t fully understand what it is that she’s asking for, but they make it clear that the decision is hers, and all they encourage her to really do is to be honest with herself and be brave enough to be honest with everyone else. No one else in her life has ever encouraged her to do so, and there is a degree of child abuse present in that reality.

When the Jedi arrive at their home, there is obvious tension between the witches and the Jedi. Sol might be blatantly prepared for hostility, and Indara definitely had the air of someone who was ready to fight, but generally, the Jedi make an effort at being polite, despite the open hostility and even aggression the witches treat them with. Bear in mind, we don’t yet know the history of this particular group of witches, so whether or not the hostility is justified on either side remains to be seen. We know that the witches have a clear, victimhood mentality, based on the fact that their ceremony starts with a speech about how they’ve been persecuted for this appearance of using dark powers. Again, whether or not their powers are dark, or whether or not they’ve actually been victimized by anyone remains to be seen. They could be witches of Dathomir who were driven off world and legitimately persecuted due to incorrect association with the Nightsisters, or they could actually be Nightsisters or similar dark witch organization who are bitter about having their dark ambitions thwarted.

I’ll wrap it up real quick, basically, the coven, whether or not they are night sisters, is clearly a cult, and possibly a dark side cult that has in history of being up to no good. If that is the case, then the Jedi are probably justified in wanting to keep a close eye on them and being concerned about them training children. And yes, the Jedi have faults, and their recruitment methods are also problematic, but considering that when in their ideal form, the Jedi are truly a force for good in the galaxy that do go through times where they primarily function as tools of the Senate, they are definitively the lesser of two evils here. Especially when the coven is actively engaged in highly controlling behavior towards the children in their care.

[suzukiblu]

I know it's totally wrong for what you're shooting for but your stories make me feel bad for Clark. All these folks judging him, when as far as he can tell Kon doesn't even want to be around him. And honestly, he's had clones before. No one expected him to mourn when a Bizarro degraded

. . . okay, friend, first off I apologize, because I def got carried away with this response and it turned into a bit of a rant, hah. Please don't take any of this the wrong way or get the impression I'm annoyed by this ask or anything, I just fundamentally disagree with SO many things about how Clark's relationship with Kon has been handled in canon and apparently I had to word-vomit a lot of that out here and now in explanation of why I tend to write Clark as being Objectively Wrong about Kon/how he treats Kon.

A) There's no convincing reason I can think of that Clark should think Kon doesn't want to be around him, and if he DID, why would he have given him permission to wear the El crest to begin with, much less offered him either the name "Superboy" or "Kon-El"? Especially Kon-El, because that's a name that originated from a specifically ADOPTED member of his birth family, and Clark offered it to him while CALLING him family, but also . . . lying to him about having a secret identity? And whole-ass other life??

and also

B) I actually WOULD expect Clark to mourn a Bizarro degrading. That's like his whole deal, in my experience of him across various media: Clark Kent is a person who thinks that every person matters and is undeniably the kind of guy that would be upset by someone suffering from genetically-inevitable degradation. Especially if the people suffering that degradation only exist to suffer it because HE, Clark "I Am Personally Responsible For This Whole Damn Planet, And Yes That IS A Threat" Kent, exists.

Like, Clark always takes way too much on himself. So it doesn't really make sense to me that a dude like that would take one look at a kid with his own face who is actually at best about a month old and just decide "yeah, this person doesn't need me ever involved in their life at all" and STICK with that assessment even through repeated problems, near-death experiences, and straight-up disasters. ESPECIALLY because Clark already knew Matrix, and she was ALSO a genetic experiment who'd been made in his image by someone he didn't have any reason to trust. But he still took Mae to his parents' farm and let her live there pretty much immediately, trusted her with SO many of his secrets and even trusted her living with his parents without, again, having to jump through ANY of the MULTITUDE of hoops that Kon did to earn a similar level of trust, and she eventually started dating literal LEX LUTHOR and Clark still trusted her after THAT!

( I mean, I think everyone thought Lex was his own son at the time or something weird like that, Because Comics, but still! STILL!! )

Shit, Clark still trusted Mae after she had a mental breakdown ON HIS PARENTS and tried to attack him and had a severe enough psychotic break that she thought she literally WAS him! Mae very quickly proved herself to be WAY more dangerous and hostile than Kon has EVER been outside of being directly mind-controlled, but from the jump Clark is way more invested in her and her life and CARES way more about her and her life. And later he responds to Kara just as differently as he did Mae, despite her ALSO debuting as both a more dangerous and more hostile person than Kon. So like . . . there's a bit of a double-standard going there, it kind of feels like? Like, at least on a meta-level. And I'm sure most of it's editorial nonsense and the kind of narrative problems that lie inherent in like . . . what, thirty-plus years of comic history and about eight bajillion different writers and the like, obviously, but it just is REAL hard to justify that behavior in the actual narrative when Clark Kent is meant to be the moral paragon that the entire damn rest of the DC universe is meant to set its metaphorical watch by.

Either way, though, I'm usually trying to write Clark as either sympathetic or at least understandable in his logic, even when it's flawed, so I wouldn't really say it's "wrong" if you feel sympathy for him while reading my writing. Like, I'm not saying he's in the right in those specific fics, but I do still want to be empathetic to his point of view. It is again just REALLY hard for me to explain a lot of Clark's canon relationship with Kon in any way other than "benign neglect due to just deliberately assuming that all Kryptonians are always Perfectly Fine, Thanks due to his own personal issues about what 'Superman' represents", and that's the KIND option.

Long story short, I really just don't care what DC says, It is NOT on the brand-new teenager with zero life experience who Clark deliberately LET put an S-shield-shaped target on their back to single-handedly foster a relationship with the perfect superhero idol that most of the damn world looks up to. I genuinely cannot think of a single significant occasion where Clark ever does anything for Kon that involves CLARK having to put in any kind of recurring effort, but we're supposed to accept that KON has to earn scraps of Clark's attention and the right to be considered a part of his family over and over again--while Clark, again, doesn't have to do anything to earn Kon's attention or the right to be considered a part of HIS family? Ever? Even ONCE??

Relationships are two-way streets, DC! That's just how relationships are, DC!! Otherwise it's just parasocial bullshit or someone taking advantage of someone else, DC!!!!

Don't get me wrong, I really love Clark, I think he's a great character in a lot of fascinating ways and that he is VERY interesting and affecting when he's done well ("you can do anything you want, and all you want to do is help people" HELLO CRYING IN THE CLUB RN), but like . . . come on, DC, what the fuck and WHY?

[roseredsnow]

Acolyte episode 8 live thoughts

Spoilers ahead!

Um, oh shit

Sol you were a whole ass adult, stop blaming and eight year old.

Oh so his "your eyes may deceive you" was not infact him learning from his mistake.

Do want to know what he was going to say but typical his own point went over his head, very realistic.

Ah yes the Vernestra Rwoh landing method

I feel like his name is meant to be familiar but I do not know.

What's he's saying reminds me of the path though

I repeat, Oh shit

Um the fuck? Bringing back my leveller or shrii ka rai theory

OK that's impressive

Her coat has to be hiding something

Ohhhh they do the same "attack me with all your strength" pose, fun

OK I was watching the good place like half an hour before this and the difference is insane, well done Manny Jacinto

Girl just wants someone to take responsibility what a mood

OK he's redeemed himself a little, but infeel- yep.

I was gonna say stabbed but choked works too

Seeing the bleed happen, fucking amazing

She definitely knows him but seems more upset she didn't know than mad at him and he kinda seems like a kid who ran away

Poor girls warding off a panic attack, also mood

On the one hand, noooo Vernestra, but also like I get she's protecting Mae

Lesyle I swear to fuck you better not of done what people thought

No not Yoda, fuck off you asshole

[whentranslatorscry]

Hitagi Honeymoon

003

“Killing Stone?”

“Yes, Killing Stone.”

This was what Kouga Tsuzura, chief of the Naoetsu Hearsay Police Department, said to me when I visited my old workplace to express my gratitude for not only attending my wedding reception, but also for delivering a speech (she had praised someone like me to the skies. Even knowing that it was customary, it still made me happy—not all old customs are bad practices), and to consult on my future prospects. I had casually mentioned the destination of my honeymoon, and this was her reaction.

“It's in Tochigi Prefecture. The Killing Stone.”

“That's a rather ominous, if not terrifying, name for a stone.”

Personally, hearing about a mysterious stone also put me on alert. No, it's just that during the Spring Break hell and Golden Week nightmare, there was a mini-episode involving a stone.

It was called Koyomi Stone.

“Yeah, pretty scary. It’s said that everything which came near it was falling dead left and right.”

“This isn't the type of ghost story I often hear in the FBI… I mean, it sounds very Japanese. But what does it have to do with anything?”

“Please go to the stone, Assistant Inspector Araragi.”

“Hey…”

“Ah, or should I call you Federal Agent Araragi now?”

“Assistant Inspector is fine when I'm in Japan. No, that’s not the point, Chief Kouga. I was talking about going on a honeymoon trip. To Tochigi Prefecture.”

“You can get me Utsunomiya ham cutlet as a souvenir.”

“Not gyoza?”

“I’ve tasted food from all around the world with Gaen-senpai, but in the end, I found the Utsunomiya ham cutlet is the best among the whole world’s menus.”

“Really? I agree that Japanese food is delicious, and I've become more patriotic since returning, but a ham cutlet? Won’t it get cold?”

“My feelings for Utsunomiya ham cutlets will never cool down. Just bring me the ham, I’ll fry it at home.”

So Chief Kouga cooks for herself. Incidentally, I had heard that Tochigi ham was a local specialty, but I didn't know anything about it in high school.

“Are you sure you don’t want a stone?”

“I’m not a crocodile. I don't eat stones. And don't worry, the tales of the Killing Stone taking lives are just old legends. It goes like this, eight hundred years ago, a stone transformed by a nine-tailed fox named Tamamo-no-Mae emitted a poisonous gas that killed all life around it. It was actually the sulfur in the air that did it.”

“Sulfur? It’s a hot spring area? I thought it was a marshland.”

It was six years ago when I discovered this place. Perhaps within those six ensuing years, hot springs had sprung forth from the marshland?

“Not quite. Tochigi Prefecture is a big place. The Oku-Nikko region where you and your wife are going is far away, on the Nasu Highlands.”

“I've heard of the highlands. Famous for their eggplants, right?”

“I wouldn't say that's incorrect, but there's more to it than that.”

“So, are there hot springs?”

“Not just hot springs, but a hot spring shrine as well.”

First time hearing of that.

The opinion of a superior is always important, just as the eggplant flower is never a waste of time.¹

Though the weary North Shirahebi Shrine was quite an odd sort, numerous kinds of shrines could be found throughout Japan.

“It's the parental affection of a superior who wishes for you and your mate² to bathe not in negative ions but in the positive smell of sulfur.”

“Wasn't sulfur, besides being dangerous, known to have an extremely pungent smell? And even if we were to acknowledge that rumor, the only reason for living things falling left and right was non-supernatural. And why are you calling her my mate instead of wife?”

“When you went overseas to attend training, police compliance training became more stringent. Saying ‘your madam’ could result in dismissal, even the power of Gaen-senpai could not save me.”

“Uh, just ‘wife’?”

“’Wife’ is allowed for now, but ‘consort' is out.”

“'Consort' should be out regardless of the era. I'm not one to talk since I was called piglet.”³

“Oh, did the Araragi couple really call you that?”

“You can never know what really goes on in a household. Even a seemingly perfect couple can be abusing their child. But for now, it's fine to call her my wife, but taking her to a place that reeks of sulfur sounds a bit…”

“The hot spring trip is a classic. Even Sakamoto Ryoma must have gone on one.”

Sakamoto Ryoma? Oh, was he the great man who first went on a honeymoon in Japan? Although as a police officer, I can't help but think of him in a different light, given that he carried a revolver. I'm not familiar with the details, did he visit Katsurahama?

“No, Sakamoto Ryoma and Katsurahama don't seem to have anything to do with each other.”

“No? There's an imposing stone statue there.”

“That's not a statue, it's a bronze figure.”

And we were talking about a stone, not a statue.

The Killing Stone.

The name really was ominous, but fear makes the wolf bigger than he is—it remains dangerous, but the rumor has been explained away. And it would be out of our jurisdiction regardless.

“The jurisdiction of the Hearsay Department encompasses the entire Earth. The fact that we sent you on overseas training is part of that, the wind blows from anywhere and the air is all connected.”

Which is why strange smells waft through the air as well, Chief Kouga said—it made sense.

There was no such thing as jurisdiction in the world of aberrations.

Crossing fields and mountains, even borders and oceans, a vampire had come to this town.

And no matter how much we called it a journey to trace our roots, visiting only Senjougahara for a honeymoon was one bullet tour—we could make a day trip if we wanted to.

“Not that I intended to challenge the newlywed journey's RTA.”

“I was thinking of visiting various famous spots in Tochigi since I was here, putting aside the Killing Stone for now. I heard about Nasu Highlands from a rumor. It’d be a good course, I think.”

“Right, right. I recommend it. Thanks to the positive and negative effects of the Corona crisis, glamping has become firmly established.”

“Glamping—you mean that glamorous camping-like thing?”

“Yeah. Barbecue and stuff.”

Could I, who had such a high school life, be so entertained with barbecue on my honeymoon? I would like to tell this to myself from eighteen years ago.

Was it six years ago?

Well, maybe me from six May's ago might have despised adult me for lowering myself to the point of barbecuing at camp.

He may risk the time paradox by decisively taking action.

“There are plenty of great camping sites in Nasu Highlands, Assistant Inspector Araragi.”

“Should I go take a look at the Killing Stone while I'm enjoying glamping? Just to confirm the resolved rumor—I mean, for future reference?”

“Even in an area with so many ranches, it's not all that idyllic. I do want you, who has a promising future ahead of you, to gain more and more career experience. Knowing the field is surprisingly important, though this is coming from someone who was trained by Gaen-san in such a way... By the way, that Killing Stone, it just cracked open.”

“Cracked open?”

Like, with a ker-thwack?

A sound effect out of the tale of Momotaro?

“W-When? Why did it happen?”

“As for when, it was last year.”

So really recent. Furthermore, considering its origin as the Nine-Tailed Fox, said to have occurred eight hundred years ago, it becomes even more astounding. Eight hundred years ago. When you think about it, it was older than Shinobu.

“As for why, it's attributed to weathering. The stone itself became fragile and susceptible to damage from the sulfur emitted in its surroundings, and it cracked under its own weight. That's essentially the prevailing theory.”

However, this rumor is different, Chief Kouga said, rectifying her posture.

“Naturally, it may seem the nine-tailed fox has come back to life.”

“…”

“It's our role to nimbly crush such rumors before they materialize in distorted forms. Unfortunately, Tochigi Prefecture Police still hasn't set up a Hearsay Department. We were planning a business trip though, and when you returned home temporarily for your wedding and mentioned that you would visit the area on your honeymoon, it was truly an act of divine providence.”

“That feels like an Okinawan greeting.”⁵

Speaking as an overseas trainee, attaching work to a honeymoon would make one think that 'the Japanese workstyle' needs to be reformed, or rather, that a change in mindset is absolutely necessary. But I have sworn to God that I would never denigrate my country from an American, European, or FBI point of view.⁴ I might as well swear to the god of Mount Nantai. If he’s a god of snakes, he probably dislikes me.

“There's also a Snake Stone near the Killing Stone, called the Blind Snake Stone. The origin of this is completely different from the Killing Stone, but—well, let's not spoil it. See it for yourself. When you go and see it, it won't even be that significant of a Killing Stone.”

“I understand. So, what you want is for me, who is considered the hope of the Hearsay Department, to go and see that broken stone and judge that 'nothing happened.’”

Maybe it could be called fact, or maybe the fait accompli. A de facto marriage, though completely different.

One could call it a proven record, in this particular case.

“That's the job of the Hearsay Department, isn't it?”

“Not just limited to the Hearsay Department, most police work is like that. A report that says 'nothing happened' is the most important and the most peaceful.”

Indeed, no truer words have been spoken. It's better if incidents don't happen at all. That was keenly felt in America, the home of urban legends. Rumors were better if they didn't flow. There was nothing better than a state of no wind. However.

“Chief Kouga, can I ask you a question…?”

“What is it? We’re close, aren't we? Feel free to ask me anything, Assistant Inspector Araragi.”

“Suppose, just suppose…”

“Let's just say that as a proud bachelorette, I'm not in a position to give that kind of advice.”

“It's not about home life, no. Imagine if, during my honeymoon or glamping trip, I were to visit the Killing Stone… and seek the specialist opinion.”

In this case, the word “specialist” refers to the remnant of the vampire who had taken up residence in my very own shadow. Although one might argue that I, as a professional, should rely on my own judgment, it had actually been quite some time since I last exercised my vampiric abilities. My reckless high school years have, by now, receded into the distant past; or at least, they were farther away than Tochigi Prefecture.

“If nothing happens, that would be best. But what if something does happen, and it's already too late?”

“Wait, whatever do you mean?”

“Now you’re playing dumb, Chief Kouga. Placing an interjection at the beginning of a quote makes it seem like you genuinely don't know what I'm talking about. I am asking how we should handle the situation if Tamamo-no-Mae, the nine-tailed fox, who has lived longer than any vampire, were to really revive.”

Although my knowledge of Tamamo-no-Mae was hazy and foggy at best, wasn't she the demon who supposedly came to Japan just to bring about its destruction? I wasn't aware that she had once disguised herself as the Killing Stone.

If that stone were to crack, ah, I wouldn't be surprised if something burst forth from it, based on my experience.

“Then, Assistant Police Inspector Araragi, or perhaps Federal Agent Araragi,” remarked Chief Kouga with a decisive tone. In the tone of a superior officer, she continued, “In accordance with the loyalty you have sworn to your country, you shall fulfill your mission.”

“But ma'am, I’m not a soldier, neither in Japan nor in America.”

A grown adult at the age of twenty-four, engaging in battles? What a ruthless way of life.

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

This entire sentence is a Japanese phrase, typically using “parent” instead of “superior.” Literally: There is not a single waste in a thousand of a parent's opinions, just as with eggplant flowers.

Literally ワイフwife. 妻 is the name for one’s wife. 愚さん is the name for others’ wives.

豚児 means (my) son, but literally pig child.

出羽守 is someone who likes to cite examples from other countries or other industries for criticism.

天の配剤 (divine providence) is read "ten no haizai", and in Okinawa people greet each other by saying "haisai", which sounds similar.

[georgiapeach30513]

Ma’am can you pls give us a little glimpse of Bladey, Lo, and the babies 🥺🥺

Oh goodness...I'm assuming, and hoping you mean Willow Storm and Elswyth Olivina. Squishers got her sister, times two. Squish's main problem seemed to be that she couldn't pronounce their names, so she's dubbed them Willie and Elfie.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

I Want All the Babies

Summary: spending time with all the babies

Pairings: Blade X Reader

Rating: 🥹🥹

Warnings:  Fable, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 450

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

Your first baby sits beside her dad, holding onto Willow, while you feed Elswyth. Beckett sitting close to you, still a bit wary of the new babies. Fable pets around Willow’s face softly, before she looks up at her dad, and gives him a quick grin before she looks back at her sister.

“Was me dis smaww?”

“Nope,” Blade answers quickly. “You were extra fluffy. You were never a small baby. Where do you think you got your nickname from?”

Fable shrugs her shoulders and looks back at the baby, “Me don’t know.”

“Your daddy,” you begin. Your fingers pet over Beckett’s, just so he knows, he’s still your baby. “He had this weird obsession with squishing your chunk.”

“Daddy!”

“What? I would get into my stuttering, and I could squish your thighs or cheeks, and I calmed down. No stuttering.”

“And now me name is Skish or Skishers. What about Eggbewt? Why him named that?”

“You did that,” Blade tells her. Fable looks up at him confused, unsure of how she came up with it. “You asked if mommy was going to lay an egg like Birdie Mae’s chicken.”

“Oh da chicken thing!”

“Yes, you said that I fertilized her egg, and she was gonna lay a baby. So we started calling him, Eggy and Eggbert, and when he was born, you and Papa called him Egghead.”

“Me no Egghead, daddy,” Beckett looks over at Blade shaking his head no. “This my baby?”

“Oh,” you look over to Blade quickly, knowing how sensitive he is with that saying. “Yeah, Beckers. These are you babies.”

“No, dis one. Dat Skish baby. Dis my baby,” his little finger points at Elswyth and he gives her a quick kiss.

“Okay, Elfie is your baby, and Willie is now Fable’s baby. Squishers, you like having baby sisters? Does it make you feel complete?” she looks over at you and gives you a quick smirk. “No! Blade Drysdale, they’re a month old. Don’t you start.”

“Papa and Mimi have five,” you glare at your husband who is fighting to not laugh. “Daddy is wike Papa.”

“Wait a minute. I am not like Papa.”

“Beckews what do you fink?”

“Dis is my baby.”

“Ugh,” Fable leans back on the couch sighing. “Me need to stawt wowking awone.”

“And the next person I hear ask for a fifth, they’re wearing a shirt with Papa’s face on it. No.”

“That’s what mom said, and then eight years after Ree, baby Lucifer.

“You said you didn’t want five kids,” you try and remind him.

“Doesn’t count. I didn’t have Squishers. Now I want all the babies.”

Masterlist

[jfouler]

💜

memories // 💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad

---

“daaad! dadadadadad-" mae, a small girl of around eight years old, bounded into the living room with an armful of pillows and blankets. she nearly tripped over her own feet as she hopped onto the couch, shoving a pillow in front of her father's face to make him look up from the book he was reading. 

"hmm. who could this possibly be?" jamie said with an amused smile. he set the book down on the coffee table and gave his daughter his full attention, accepting her sudden offering of a pillow. 

"agent mae requesting the construction of a pillow fort, agent... dad," she replied, giving him a mock salute.

"aha. right. it's friday night, isn't it? request accepted." he halfheartedly returned her salute and stood up, reaching to tousle her hair, which she smiled wide at. he wasn't sure where the whole agent thing came from, because that certainly wasn't the theme last weekend, but he'd play along. this kid played too many video games...  “we better hurry, then. supposed to storm soon.” 

"sir yes sir!" mae said happily, jumping off the couch to start arranging furniture for efficient pillow fort construction. the duo worked at it for the next half hour, utilizing pretty much every blanket and pillow in jamie’s small apartment to construct a satisfactory, and certainly very cozy, fort—complete with night lights that kept it all dimly lit. by the time they were finished, thunder rumbled and rain started to pour outside. 

"you still scared of storms, mae? gonna be a good one." there was a long pause. 

"...no," she said. another pause. "...yes." 

before jamie could get another word in, she scrambled into the fort, wrapping herself up tightly in a blanket. he chuckled softly before crouching down outside the entrance, where she peered at him from her newfound blanket cocoon. 

"you want snacks or anything?" 

 "...no. agent mae has one request: that her father join her in the fort, please," she said, a light tremor in her voice. 

"i gotcha, kiddo." he reached for his book on the coffee table and maneuvered his way in. in barely a minute mae had rolled closer, nestling herself against his side.

 "you good?" he whispered. she nodded. "okay. get some sleep. i'll keep ya safe," he said, then added when mae raised an eyebrow, "agent... agent mae." 

"i know you will, dad," she spoke through a yawn. "and i'm... not sleepy..." her voice trailed off and she rubbed her eyes. not sleepy, hm? that was clearly a lie. stubborn. like him. he sighed and wrapped an arm around her, holding up the book with his other hand, listening to the rain pound against the windows. soon enough, she had indeed drifted off to sleep. jamie felt... at peace. perhaps everything would be okay.

[goneadrift]

When all roads lead nowhere, it is time to go home

read on AO3

Warning: Major Character Death

Relationship: Riza Hawkeye & Original Character(s), Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:

Isabelle Mustang is thirty-eight years old when she sees the front pages on all newspapers in the village.

Roy Mustang, The Last Führer and The First President of Amestris has died.

Inspired by You'll Be in My Heart by @by-nina

A/N: I looked again at Nina's story and the last line made me think of the song ("When all roads lead nowhere, it is time to go home" by Bi-2 (Би-2) feat. Oxxxymiron)... and then I wrote this in one sitting.

Isabelle Mustang is thirty-eight years old when she sees the front pages on all newspapers in the village.

Roy Mustang, The Last Führer and The First President of Amestris has died

President Mustang passed away at the age of 81 on 1 June, the First Lady has confirmed. Riza Hawkeye, the lifelong companion of the President, said her husband's death has 'left a huge void in her life'.

The news of Mustang's death was met with an outpouring of messages from around the country and beyond, including the Ishvalan leader and the Emperor of Xing. Public is yet to hear the statement from the pair's daughter, Isabelle.

Isabelle ran her hand over the photo, picturing her parents. Roy, standing sidewise, looking resolutely ahead of him with his hand wrapped securely around his wife's waist. Riza, with her hand on her husband's shoulder, looking in the same direction, as she did for the majority of her life.

Isabelle turned away from the stand and walked out of the shop. With each step she walked faster and then started running, till her destination appeared before her: train station, ticket desk, next stop - the Central City.

Isabelle Mustang was not there.

There - at the funeral, that was a closed affair, granted out of respect to the widow. Only relatives and friends were allowed.

Riza was surrounded by her and Roy's friends, who became as close as family. She wasn't alone despite the absence of her only living child.

Gracia stayed by her side, tightly gripping her hand, and Riza briefly thought that only this touch held her in that moment, in the crushing reality - Roy is gone. This day has come, she lost him forever.

Each clod of earth falling on the coffin sounded as awful tune

He.

Is.

Gone.

Riza felt numb, and couldn't avert her gaze from the display and couldn't close her ears. Each thump was like a punch in her gut and there was no way to shield herself from it.

For-

-ev-

-er.

~*~

Isabelle ran again. Ran fast as a wind, that was blowing away her tears.

She ran, trying to outrun the time itself.

Ran, not knowing what she was even trying to chase anymore.

The gates to the cemetery stood before her. There was a person who her parents held in the highest regard. She visited Maes Hughes with them often enough to remember the place.

And now he was here too.

She walked down the familiar path, assuming that old friends won't be separated in death as well.

A lonely figure stood in the distance.

Isabelle didn't recognize the person at first glance.

In all her memories Riza always stood tall, unwavering. Now the woman's shoulders were hunched, her hands, clutching something, visibly trembled.

Isabelle came closer, suddenly unsure, and had to swallow a lump in her throat before whispering

"Mama..."

Riza turned round short at her call and froze.

"Isabelle? Is that really you?"

Isabelle couldn't hold back tears and now there was no wind to brush them off.

"Mama!" she rushed to the embrace and Riza readily caught her daughter in her arms.

"Mama... Papa is... Papa is gone," Isabelle sobbed into her mother's chest. Riza stroked her back, silver chain slipped from her palm and was hanging on her hand. Finally Riza felt her own tears running down her cheeks.

"Yes, Bella, he is," Riza muttered. The thought, the fact struck her with its finality. But with her daughter in her arms she suddenly felt that she could breathe better again.

She looked down at her and brushed off Isabelle’s tears with her thumbs.

"But I am here with you, my sunshine. And one day we will be alright."

Isabelle Mustang is thirty-eight years old when she comes back home.

[averyonelovesjack]

learning to raise a baby ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes:)

Can you please do an cute imagine about y/n and Daniel having a baby together and taking care of the baby and figuring the parenting stuff out together. Ur amazing

summary: follow a few different events in the life of daniel and y/n learning to raise a baby.

warning(s): baby, literally too lazy to edit this i’ll come back later lmao

word count: 2608

author’s note: i have such baby fever omg 

disclaimer: i def need to clarify that i am 18 years old and do not have a baby and i have no close friends with babies (in person, at least) therefore this is purely fiction. i watch a LOT (i mean A LOT) of family vloggers and like teen mom accounts raising their kids, so basically all of my knowledge comes from that. i hope no one takes offence to my depiction of it, but my intention is purely just to write this cute fic idea, and i don’t want to pretend like i know anything about parenting or raising a child or anything like that!! okay that’s all!!

I could barely see my feet as I painfully took in another breath of air and started walking forward. Awoken at 3am with terrible back pain and a pool of amniotic fluid at my waist, Daniel and I now rushed to grab our hospital bag and make our way to the labor and delivery section of our nearest hospital. 

everything went so fast. before i was actively having a child, it felt like my pregnancy would never end, but now that it’s actually happening and i’m having a child, it felt like pregnancy flew by.

just a few days ago, i was sitting on the countertop in my bathroom, impatiently waiting to see if i was pregnant or not in hopes that daniel wouldn’t get home from the studio early and find me. i had just given daniel the surprise of his lifetime when i woke him up at four am to tell him i was pregnant because i just couldn’t keep it from him anymore to do a fun reveal. i remember how we both cried, too excited to even go back to sleep. 

just a few days ago, daniel and i were sitting in my obstetrician’s office as we got to hear our eight week old fetus’ heartbeat for the first time. we both cried. it feels like just a day or two ago we cut into a pink colored cake and found out that our precious baby girl would be coming. all of the breakdowns about what stroller to buy and which crib matches the nursey best felt like just moments ago. and now, all of a sudden, i’m ten hours into labor and i’m ready to push.

pushing was painful, but the thought of holding a sweet babygirl soon just kept me going. daniel squeezed my hand tight, standing by the end of the bed watching our beautiful daughter make her way into the world.

i gave the final push and soon i heard a cry that made everything in the whole world worth it. they say you never truly understand love until you’ve had a child, and as soon as i held our daughter, i felt an overwhelming sense of truth in that statement. i never knew such a distinct moment could be the greatest day of my life, but as soon as i laid my eyes on her, i knew that i would never get a day greater than this one. 

our daughter laid on my chest for a while as daniel sat by my head, holding both my hand and hers. eventually, the nurses cleaned her off a bit and wrapped her tightly in a swaddle for daniel to finally hold his daughter. i watched the tears fall from his bluer than ever eyes that never left her little face. by the way she settled in his arms and fell asleep, i knew i was going to have a daddy’s little girl on our hands. 

it felt like forever, just watching daniel and our baby getting to know each other. soon enough, though, the doctors finished with the stitches and i heard a knock at the door. 

within seconds, both of our parents came into the room, bearing wide smiles. daniel sat in the seat next to me, both of us staring at the beautiful baby in front of us. 

“does she have a name?” keri asks, slowly walking up to the two of us, careful not to be too loud. 

daniel and i look at each other, and then i give him the nod to tell everyone. “callista avery mae seavey.”

“our little baby callie.” i smile at the name. daniel and i both loved the name callie, but wanted it to be a nickname. avery was after his bandmate who really helped us through this whole preparing to be parents thing. mae was a pretty nickname from my side of the family that was good to separate avery and seavey. our little callie mae. 

***

it was three am and both of us were awake to callie’s loud screaming. turns out that daniel and i had a very colicky daughter who, when awake, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. daniel was in the nursery trying to grab more diapers and wipes that, out of exhaustion, we forgot to restock last night when we ran out. i held callie in our arms, rocking her gently and trying to get her to go back to sleep. 

“does she have a dirty diaper?” daniel asks, placing the diapers in the corner of our messy bedroom. a few days into callie’s life, we realized we should’ve left the changing table in our bedroom until she was ready to sleep in the nursey, but both of us were too tired to even think about moving the furniture around. so for now the corner of the room was storage and a changing pad on the bench was our late night changing table. 

“i don’t think so.” i answer, giving him an exhausted look. “her diaper isn’t heavy and i tried to feed her, but she doesn’t seem to be hungry. i think she just woke up and is being colicky again.”

“how long did the doctor say the colic will last?” daniel asks. 

“she didn’t.” i sigh, going to take a seat on our bed as i continued to calm callie. daniel sat beside me. “go back to sleep, i got her.”

“no, i know you’ve been awake all night. try to go to sleep, i’ve got her.” daniel says, and then takes callie from me. “did you take melatonin tonight?”

“yeah.” i say. “i know your body goes through a lot of changes postpartum, but i’m really not liking the insomnia.”

“okay, well, you lay down, and i’m gonna sing to you both, okay?” daniel says and then starts to rock callie to sleep as i laid beside them. and then he started to sing softly. 

***

callie was born a little over three months ago and daniel and i haven’t had a date night since then. when we fearfully realized that last week, jack and anna were both quick to offer some help. we hadn’t felt comfortable leaving callie yet, especially since she wasn’t always the easiest. we had lots of help and people offering, but neither daniel nor i were good at asking for help. that’s definitely something we’re both still working on, especially now that we have a baby. 

finally though, jack and anna convinced us. originally, we were going to leave them with daniel’s parents, but anna and jack were pretty convincing. jack had lots of experience since he himself is a dad, and anna was very close with gabbie when she had lavender. jack also decided to invite zach for some more company, which was cute.

daniel and i had a hard time saying goodbye to callie, even though we really were only going to be out for two hours at most. we knew neither of us could stay away for that long. 

the restaurant wasn’t too far from the house, which was nice because it cut down on our time away from callie. i think both of us were a little nervous to leave her. we both know that she’s three months old and other people are more than capable of watching her for a few hours, but it’s still hard to not be worried about all of the things we could be missing out on.

“oh my gosh, anna just sent a picture of callie.” daniel says in the middle of our dinner, holding up his phone to show up me the picture of our daughter in the adorable pajamas her aunt bought. 

“i miss her.” i admit, knowing he was feeling similarly. “do you think they had a hard time getting her to sleep? i hope she’ll be good for them tonight.”

“i’m sure she was fine.” daniel says, then later . “you know, maybe we should skip dessert. relieve them a little early.”

“she’s growing up so fast.” i tell him. “i’m not ready for her to keep growing.”

“we’re gonna blink and she’s gonna be cursing us out because we wouldn’t let her go out with her friends.” daniel continues. “not that we would do that, because honestly, i’ve always thought we’d be a little cooler than that.”

i laugh at his comment. “oh, we’ll definitely be cooler than that. we’re not gonna be the lame strict parents that doesn’t let their kids go out with their friends.”

“oh definitely.” daniel agrees. “except i will be strict about doors open if someone is over. i don’t care who she’s in her room with, but that door better be open. i am taking no chances.”

“i feel like that’s fair.” i add. “i know we’re parents, but wow, until i think about that future, i kind of forget.”

“i’m very glad that’s a long ways away.” he comments. “i’m barely ready for her to be three months old, we do not need to get ahead of ourselves. take this parenting thing one step at a time.”

“i could not agree more.” i smile, leaning over the table to kiss daniel’s lips gently. 

***

i walked out of my one year old’s nursery with her in my arms. we watched as daniel and anna hung balloons up around our california apartment. it’s just about an hour before callie’s first birthday party, and now more than ever, i could not be more grateful for daniel’s family’s offer to help us set up. 

rather than fighting with figuring out food for the party, we decided to get it catered. christian and tyler offered to go pick up the food at the restaurant for us, which was extremely helpful. his parents were setting up some decorations around the front of the apartment. 

i had just put callie in her adorable dress that i specifically picked out for this party. we weren’t the type to throw parties, so we weren’t 100% sure what to do or what to expect, but we decided to just stick to family and close friends. callie was too young for us to strictly invite her friends over. at this stage in her life, her friends were whoever was at mommy&me that week. 

the party was going to be small. daniel’s family, my family, daniel’s bandmates and close friends, and then my close friends. 

thankfully, we finished decorating and setting up with about thirty minutes left to spare before the party. rather than worry, i decided to just sit on the couch with anna and daniel. keri took callie from me, wanting to spend some time with her granddaughter, and giving daniel and i a brief break before the party started. 

“i cannot believe she’s a year old.” anna exclaims to me. “you guys have been parents for a year. that’s crazy to think about.”

“it’s definitely a little bit weird.” i giggle in response. 

“you guys make it look so easy, being young parents.” anna says. “i know i’m younger than you guys, but still, i cannot imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

“i didn’t think i would either.” i tell anna. “for me, i wasn’t really ready until i met dani. i realized that i was ready because i wanted to do this with him. it’s different for everyone, i’m sure, but at least personally, that’s how i knew we could be parents.”

daniel wraps his arm around me on the couch, kissing my cheek softly. “yeah, it’s the same for me. when you find someone you want to do everything with, it gets easier to imagine yourself parenting together.”

“that is really cute.” anna says. “this is what i mean, when i say you make it look easy!!”

“it’s definitely not easy.” i laugh. “but it’s a little bit easier when you work as a team. we talk things through and decide together, instead of just making decisions separately. it’s a lot easier to feel like you’re making the right decision when you talk things through.”

“and that is all the parenting advice you get, because while i am most definitely ready to be a dad, i am not ready to be an uncle.” daniel says, getting protective over his younger sister. 

“being an uncle is way easier than being a dad.” anna laughs. “but trust me, i’m not having kids any time soon. at least not intentionally.”

“well, i have to be the cool uncle. someone’s gotta bail the kid out of jail and hide it from you.” daniel jokes.

“first of all, why would my kid go to jail??” anna asks. “and second of all, you might’ve been first in the race for cool uncle before callie arrived, but since becoming a dad, you’ve fallen behind. the cool uncle can’t have kids, that’s not how that works.”

“well i’ll break that standard, because i’ll be the cool uncle.” 

“i just want to be the aunt that gives good advice at one o’clock in the morning.” i tell them. “someone’s gotta do it. i expect that for callie, anna, so i will do that for your kids.”

“oh, of course. nothing but the best for callie. and future kids.” anna agrees. “speaking of, future kids? any thoughts on that? mom wants me to scope that out.”

“eventually.” i smile. “sooner rather than later.”

***

daniel took callie on a walk. he’s been really adamant about spending at least thirty minutes a day on a walk with her. now that she’s getting a lot more balance and ability to take a lot more steps, he loves taking her to the playground a few blocks from our apartment. usually, i like to go with them, but today i made up an excuse about things i had to get done at home.

i felt especially grateful for that routine of his today, because i needed a few minutes to myself. i’ve been feeling particularly nauseated recently, and as soon as i woke up the other day, i could feel that i was pregnant again. in the past, i had always thought that when i was paranoid about being late, but now that i’ve actually experienced pregnancy, i can feel that there’s a little fetus inside of me.

daniel and i haven’t exactly been trying, but we haven’t been taking as many precautions as we were when callie was first born. now that she’s over a year old, we feel better about having another baby. we weren’t too rushed, because we lot spending time with just our little girl, but we didn’t want to wait too long and have her grow up without a sibling. having a sibling was always a priority of daniel and i’s. seeing as we both grew up with siblings, we know how important it is to have a sibling. 

my stomach fluttered with butterflies as i followed the instructions on the pregnancy test. after realizing i was pregnant with callie, i had bought a ton of tests that i didn’t end up using because it was so obvious that i was indeed pregnant. that was extremely helpful for right now when i don’t have time to go sit in traffic for thirty minutes just to go to the pharmacy. 

i sat on top of the counter, leaving the pregnancy test face down while i tried to scroll through tiktok and distract myself. it was probably the slowest five minutes of my life, other than finding out about callie. 

the timer went off on my phone. i take a deep breath and carefully lift the pregnancy test off the marble bathroom counter.

pregnant. 

[yukippe]

hello,,, i am once again asking for kyalin hcs...

i saw kya and went SCREAM so thank you for this ask mae

see kya and lin are unstoppable force versus unmoveable object. kya has BEEN flirting with lin since they were kids and it has all been going over lin’s head. finally, at age 17 kya saw that she was getting nowhere fast and decided to play the long game. you know when your friend jokes about oh if we aren’t in a relationship by 30 or if you haven’t had your first kiss by 18 we will do it :) kya pulls out that. and lin is kinda lonely and her little sister has already had like eight boyfriends and her mom is pulling girls on the regular and kya has always been out of lin’s league (lin has completley not noticed kya has been flirting with her, which is in part tenzin’s fault because tenzin also likes lin and may or may not have been doing his best to insert things like “haha ur such good friends” whenever lin tells him about something kya did that was very much not just friends) so lin signs the contract. then she gets with tenzin, she and tenzin break up, kya travels around the world dating talented attractive women and still being a little in love with her childhood best friend but kya’s playing the long game and she’s always subscribed to her dad’s teachings of the values of being nomadic and if she ever settles down for real it will only be after she’s seen everything she ever dreamed of. 

then, years, later, very quickly coming up on the mark that kya can cash in on her marry lin contract, she sees korra and asami looking a little lost and incredibly surprised and excited at the thought of a wlw mentor and kya thinks that if these two can get everything together so can kya and lin. 

so kya takes the carefully preserved contract and heads to republic city and woos lin. lin is still a little oblivious to the wooing but kya has been around the world picking up girls, she knows how to woo much better than she did at fumbling awkward 16 (though kya was an especially competent and put together 16 yr old in comparison to the average 16 yr old she knew, which is not saying a lot to be fair) and she takes lin on dates and slowly lin realizes they’re dates and finally FINALLY lin and kya kiss in the backroom of the community centre lin has built and owns and operates herself. 

three weeks later is the day the contract is timed up and kya giggles into her kisses with lin and reminds her of the contract and lin is super flustered and kya asks, gently, if lin will marry her and lin and kya have been falling in love for years really, not just the two months they’ve had in republic city, so she says yes. 

they have a courthouse wedding and don’t tell any of their friends and family that they are married for fun and a year later they send out invitations to their wedding anniversary party and everyone loses it and kya and lin laugh and lin lets kya pull her onto the dance floor for a slow dance. 

[justanotherblonde23]

Ok ideas for writing...Iris and Marcus talking about her legally adopting the girls and then asking them for permission? Love your writing!

Will You Be My Daughters? - A Marcus Moreno Story 

Author’s Note: Ask and you shall receive, my sweet Autumn. Yes, Part V of ‘It’s Time to Be a Hero’ is coming. I’ve just been extraordinarily stressed this past week or so with school starting and having to balance that with taking care of my mom who is healing from some major surgery. I needed to write something fluffy and cute, so this is what happened! I really hope that you all enjoy this; it made my heart happy and I hope it makes yours happy too. As always, I don’t give physical descriptions for Iris so that you can hopefully see yourself in her xoxo

Warnings: None

Marcus and Iris had been discussing this for months. They both knew that they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives, even if they hadn’t made anything official yet. Iris didn’t want to pressure her boyfriend into moving faster than he felt comfortable. He still struggled with feelings of abandonment and insecurity since his ex had up and left not long after Jules was born. How could he not have a hard time when something like that had happened to him? 

The doctor was content to be Marcus Moreno’s partner; she had no pressing time frame. She wasn’t going anywhere. Missy and Jules called her “Mommy,” and everything in her soul screamed that she was their mother. She did everything a mother would do and spent her time going above and beyond for those children. The only thing left was to make it official. 

  They could just file the paperwork and call it a day, but that didn’t seem right. Missy remembered the woman that gave birth to her, and she remembered when that woman left without so much as a goodbye. She was old enough to know that Iris was the closest thing she had to a mother and remembered when she had first come into their lives. Jules was a year and a half old by now and only knew Iris as her mommy. Whatever they did was mainly for Missy and to remind her that she was loved, cherished, and special. 

Eventually, they settled on making a day out of it. Both parents agreed that their girls deserved something special. It was Iris’ idea to ask Missy if she would like to be formally adopted. She wanted the little girl to feel like she had a say in the matter and that she was the central figure. 

One Friday, the good doctor took her two girls out shopping in search of a dress. She told them that it was for an extraordinary occasion, some sort of surprise for them. Naturally, both girls were thrilled. Missy insisted on finding matching dresses for her and little Jules, stating that it was always the best to have sister sister matchy time. Jules wanted to be just like her big sister, so she was thrilled. 

Three children’s shops later, a pair of matching dresses were found. They were this gorgeous peachy pink, Missy’s current favorite color, with a tulle skirt full of sparkles and perfect for twirling. The sparkles were at Jules’ insistence; she could never say no to anything sparkly. The silver sparkly matching shoes were a great addition, too. As exhausting as it could be carting around an eight-year-old and a toddler, Iris was satisfied with a job well done. 

As much as the girls begged both of their parents to know what the surprise was, neither of them would cave. Missy wracked her brain, trying to figure out what it could be. There weren’t any birthdays coming up that she knew of, Christmas was over, and Valentine’s Day was next week. What could it be? 

Saturday came around, packed full of all of their favorite activities. The Moreno family had a brunch picnic at the park, played on the swings together, and even spent a few hours at the Natural History Museum. Jules was extremely obsessed with all things dinosaur at the moment. Every skeleton they saw left the little girl giggling, “A dino! It’s a dino! What it name, Momma?” 

Marcus watched as his girlfriend would carefully explain each fossil’s name to her, pronouncing it slowly so that his daughter could understand how it was said. Then she and the little one would pronounce it together, a little incorrectly, but Jules wasn’t even two yet, so who could blame the kid. He loved how gentle and caring his partner was with his kids. He could have never expected to find someone like her, not in a million years. He was thrilled to be finally taking the next big step with her and making his children officially hers too. Family was something that he treasured beyond everything else in his life. The fact that he had a family that was whole again made him thank his lucky stars. 

Their time at the museum went on like this for the next few hours. Each girl had their favorite exhibits, and the couple made sure that everyone got to see what they wanted most. Anyone looking at the four of them would see a regular happy family out for a Saturday outing full of laughs, giggles, and hugs. By the time they were done for the day, both girls each sat in a parent’s arms, cuddled close to the people that loved them the most. 

Last on the agenda for the day was dinner at their favorite restaurant. At least twice a month, the little family ended up at a local pizza joint called LJ’s Pizza, named after the founder and owner of over 40 years. The kids inhaled the pizza every single time they visited, danced around to the local music on the weekends, and their parents always enjoyed good conversation with the owner and his family. It was a win-win in every sense of the word. 

 As they walk into the restaurant, both girls gasp, taking in their surroundings in awe. The customarily packed restaurant was empty. Every single table had a photograph of the two little girls and Iris or the entire family together. The one table that didn’t have pictures was covered in all the girls’ favorite dishes. The owner, LJ, smiled at the kids, opening his arms as they barreled into him for a hug. After they had gotten their hugs from the older man and a piece of candy each that he slipped them, they turned back to their parents. 

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Missy wondered, looking around the room. 

“Well, Missy, Jules, your daddy and I have been talking recently, and we wanted to ask you something,” Iris began to explain. 

Everyone sat down at their table, the girls each crawling onto a parent’s lap. Once they were settled, Iris continued. “I’ve been your mommy for a while now, right?”

Both girls nodded simultaneously. Jules was a little confused because she had never really known any other mommy beside Iris, but she kept quiet and nodded. Her mommy was using her serious voice, and she knew better than to interrupt her. 

“Well, I want to be your mommy forever, if you’ll let me. I’m not ever going anywhere, and I wanted to make it official. What I’m asking is, would you like for me to adopt you and be your forever mommy?” 

Missy squealed, jumping off her father’s lap into Iris’. She grabbed her mommy’s face in her little hands and covered her with kisses. Even at five, she understood what Iris was asking her. “Do you mean it? You’ll stay with me forever and be my mommy?” 

“Yes, I promise that I’ll stay with you forever, Missy Mae. I love you with all my heart, and I never ever want to be without you. Thank you for letting me be your mommy, little one.” She pressed a kiss to Missy’s forehead and then rubbing the girl’s nose with her own. 

Jules was happily sharing her mommy’s lap with her big sister, not a care in the world. She leaned over and asked, “Daddy, Mommy is my mommy, right?” 

Marcus couldn’t help but break out into a grin, seeing his girls so enamored by his dear Iris. “Yes, baby, Mommy is your mommy.” 

Apparently, that was a satisfactory answer for Jules because she nodded, snuggling up in the woman’s lap, content with watching everything around her. She popped her thumb in her mouth and reveled in the palpable joy in the room. 

The family dug into dinner with enthusiasm. They had forgotten to grab lunch during the whirlwind museum adventure. Not much was said as they ate, everyone far too busy putting food in their mouths and gobbling it all down. Now and then, Missy would stop to say, “Mommy, Daddy, I love you,” and then hope right back into her food. Once dinner was finished, and the kids were cleaned up, Marcus grabbed the girls’ attention. 

“Mommy and I decided to get you both something to mark this special occasion. Would you both like your gift?” 

Jules lit up like a Christmas tree, her umber eyes sparkling. “A present? For meeeee?!” she asked, full of excitement. She reached out her chubby toddler hands, ready to open something. 

Her father handed her a box, which Iris helped her open. Nestled inside was a silver heart locket that matched the one that her mother wore around her neck. Opening it up, the little girl found a picture of both her parents. “So that Mommy and Daddy can always be with you, even when we’re apart,” he murmured. 

“Like Mommy’s! Same same!” she giggled, absolutely delighted to be matching her mommy. When Iris put it on her, she squealed, touching her own locket and then her mother’s. 

Missy was up next, curious as to what she had gotten. The box her father handed her was a different shape from her sister’s, so it wasn’t a locket. She opened her gift to see a silver bracelet. Picking it up, she realized that it had her initials in the middle of it. She looked up, grinning ear to ear. “MM, for Missy Moreno?”

“You betcha, Missy Mae,” Marcus replied. “Your mommy made this just for you. Those stones are moonstones because you are our sun, moon, and all the stars in our sky. Also, it connects to my watch and Mommy’s bracelet so that you can get in touch with us any time. All you have to do is press these two buttons on the side, and you’ll be able to call us.” 

She beamed, slipping it on her wrist and examining it proudly. It wasn’t just the fact that she had received a gift from her parents. It was that her mommy made it, all by herself, just for her. Iris was known for her inventions, and the fact that she had made something exclusively for her little girl made Missy’s heart overflow. She looked up to the woman and loved her dearly; the only thing she wanted was to have both parents loving her and taking care of her. This was Iris’ promise not to leave, and it meant everything to her daughter. 

Monday morning came, and the family of four went to the local courthouse to submit their paperwork and make everything official. The girls insisted that they wear their matching dresses once more and have Iris do their hair. Jules had her brown curls tamed in a little half ponytail on the top of her head that Marcus lovingly nicknamed “the fountain”. Missy’s hair was in an elaborate braid that fell over her shoulder. Both girls couldn’t stop grinning and giggling. Marcus was wearing a nice suit with a blue tie that matched that blue floral of his girlfriend’s dress. They were all dressed to the nines and ready to make their family of four official. 

The whole affair was brief, taking less than an hour to have everything submitted and filed away properly. Once the registrar told them they were all set, Iris burst into tears. She knelt down on the girls’ level, gathering them up in her arms, holding them tight. She kissed both of them, drying her eyes, and standing back up to embrace her boyfriend. Marcus scooped her up, twirling her around and kissing her soundly, the happiness contagious. Finally, they were a family both in name and in their hearts. 

A county clerk came up to them, offering to snap a picture of the precious moment. Iris stood, enveloped in Marcus’ arms, with her two beautiful little girls clinging onto her dress. That picture sits above the mantle in their home as a reminder of the day they became the Moreno Family of Four.  

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tags list for the Marcus + Iris Universe series. It’s ongoing and I have SO MUCH more planned for our favorite little family <3

@autumnleaves1991-blog @the-purity-pen @cinewhore @f0rever15elf @pascalispunkie @frannyzooey @hdlynnslibrary @theclanof2 @jollyrancher87 @mrschiltoncat @cyaredindjarin @randomness501 @twomoonstwosuns @rosiesimone819 @hillarymurray4 @qhbr2013 @phoenixhalliwell @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @theoutsidelandhere @chouetteschaussettes @maharani-radha @maybege @moriamithril @revolution-starter @paniclana @flightlessangelwings @bisexual-space-slut @thewayofthemandalorian @stressed-the-fudge-out @evans-dejong @supernaturalcat7 @salty-sith-bitch @poguesvixen @plants-are-better-than-humans @omggiannarosa @theocatkov @roseuchiha97 @cheesehead0622-blog @impala1967666 @lydiascottage @themarcusmoreno

[matildashoney]

Daisy Mae // Part One

MASTERLIST // TAGLIST // TAGS

TAGLIST: @detroitkiwis​, @cronias13​, @irishfireandice​

Maggie isn’t really sure what to do at this point.

Harry is asleep, tucked away under the duvet, naked and comfortable. He would be waking up any minute, and the first thing he would see is his best friend hunched over the toilet throwing up or the ten – yes, she bought ten – pregnancy tests lining the sink. All with two bright pink lines.

Going outside the bathroom to try and find her birth control packet feels too dangerous, too risky. Harry couldn’t find out without Maggie there to tell him. He would be annoyed, certainly. His emotions were much more managed as an adult, as it was expected to be, however, there was a more significant reason for Harry to have his thoughts together. That reason, as always, was Maggie.

Maggie and Harry have been best friends since their earliest memories, even though she was two years older than he was. Anne and Patty – their mothers – were best friends, Gemma and Lucy – their older sisters – were best friends, and inevitably Harry and Maggie. Going to school together, playing together, doing all their work at the café in town that his family-owned, they were inseparable. Always there to protect each other and be best friends, they never let each other be upset or angry. Harry was seven when his parents got divorced, and Maggie was the first person he told. He cried behind the huge tree in his garden, and Maggie sat beside him, holding his hand and telling him that everything would be okay. Maggie was fourteen when her parents got divorced, and it was messy and destructive, to the point that Lucy went to live with their father. Harry sat in the study with her and hugged her tight. They were young, barely old enough to understand the feelings that were inside of them, and yet there they were comforting each other. Being the best friends that they could be.

Harry was there when Maggie had her first heartbreak. Harry was fifteen, Maggie was seventeen. He got in his first and only fight that day. Harry broke the boy’s nose and wrist outside the school and ran away with Maggie before anyone saw. He stood against the side of her house with her, his hands beside her head, his height just beginning to reach her as his hands brushed the tears on her face. His heart broke for his best friend, the one that he was secretly – or not so secretly – in love with, and Harry made a promise to himself that if Maggie ever gave him a chance, he would never, ever break her heart. Harry kissed Maggie for the first time that day. Maggie was Harry’s first real kiss.

And Harry never forgot it.

On Maggie’s eighteenth birthday, Harry asked what it would take for her to agree to date him, to ignore the age difference – which seemed to be her only argument against it – and have one date with him, to give it one chance. Maggie pecked Harry’s cheek, brushing his curls away from his face and smiled, Talk to me when I’m thirty. If I’m still single by then, well fuck all, I’ll marry you. Don’t want to get married but if no one likes me and you still think you could love me like that, I’ll marry you. Harry laughed and grinned and suggested they seal their deal with a kiss, and drunkenly, Maggie agreed.

And Harry never forgot that kiss either.

Harry complained when Maggie fell in love with a rugby player at university. His name was something ridiculous and when Harry travelled up to visit her for a weekend they fought because the boy found Harry threatening to their relationship. Maggie rolled her eyes and said that there was nothing to worry about, that they were just friends. Her calls became less frequent, though, and the visits became seemingly unimportant because that was her boyfriend and she wanted to respect his feelings and wishes – even if they were only because of his own insecurity. That is until Maggie found him having sex with her roommate while she was in a lecture. Harry was there when Maggie called him crying and saying that she was coming home. Harry was always there.

Maybe that’s what Maggie is afraid of, that this time, that Harry won’t be there. He’s only twenty-six. That’s awfully young to be a father. He should be there. Harry would never leave Maggie alone, but there is guilt sitting on her chest, in her lungs where oxygen should be, and making her feel overwhelmed.

If Maggie was being honest, she always imagined having a baby with the man she loves most in the world. And yes, Harry is the man she loves most, right now, but that’s because Harry is her best friend. Harry is the only boy to never break her heart, and there is a love in her heart that will always be there because there is a bond between them that will never be broken. Harry and Maggie, friends forever. That’s isn’t a relationship and children kind of love, though. Is it?

And in addition to that, now Maggie has to worry about telling Harry that they’re about to have a baby.

Harry grumbles in his sleep, irritated with the chirping birds and the sunlight passing through the drawn curtains and the way his arms are missing the body they fell asleep holding eight hours earlier. His Saturday mornings are rarely spent alone, and if he was being honest, Harry prefers it that way. His favourite way to wake up on his only day away from the café is with her in his arms, likely naked, and clinging to him as desperately as he clings to her throughout the night. Her hands always inch to his thighs by the morning time, and when they’ve had a bit rougher week, their weekend usually begins with sloppy sex and exhausted kisses before fresh bagels from downstairs.

On a Friday night, Harry and Maggie’s arrangement begins later in the evening – following an unsuccessful date or one too many drinks at the pub with their friends or one of them really needing a satisfying shag after a stressful work week – and everything will come to an end on a Sunday night, falling asleep to a film that neither really pay any attention to. Mornings begin with languid kisses and whispered plans for the evening. Middle of the day is always a guess, anything to spend time together. Nights end with tangling in the sheets and feeling heavy against each other. And everything works for them. Harry and Maggie enjoy it.

Harry would love to have this arrangement for a more official title, Maggie knew this, but Harry knows well enough that Maggie wouldn’t. He knew that this wouldn’t last forever. One day, Maggie would meet someone that she loved more than she loved him, that proposed and promised her a life far superior to the one that he could promise with the café and the tiny two-bedroom apartment that resided on the floor above. He would take this for all he could, though. There was something about Maggie, something that made Harry feel like his heart was in flames.

Harry remembers the moment he kissed Maggie for the first time – not the kiss when they were teenagers, the first real kiss – two years ago. That kiss changed Harry’s life forever and certainly changed Maggie’s.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　✧･ﾟ

Harry takes Maggie’s wrist, tugging her into his chest and brushing his nose against hers, smiling at the way her tongue flicks across her lips and her eyes meet his gaze and his mouth. His senses are overwhelmed by her, by the sweet smell of her perfume – the one she binged on for her birthday and bought luxury after asking his opinion – and the way her breath is fanning against his skin. His gut is telling him to kiss her, to abandon the nervous laughter and the awkward way of asking and the possibility of rejection. Her body language is giving him every sign that he should, that it would be graciously accepted and wanted.

And Harry is willing to take that chance.

“Make me wait on a kiss any longer and I’ll have to start it.”

Harry smirks, dipping his head to Maggie’s height and meeting her lips, savouring in the velvet feeling and the sweetness of her lip gloss, smiling at the way her arms wrap around his waist and their bodies are nearly melting into each other. His kiss is soft, gentle. He’s been waiting for much of their friendship to do this. All the years of pining and loving her from afar are closing in on this moment, with their favourite artist singing in the background, all of their friends teasing and cooing the affection that has been waiting to happen for years.

Maggie basks in the sensation of Harry’s lips on hers, the tingling fire that is set through her cheek and the way his touch is crawling beneath her skin. Her thoughts are overwhelmed by the idea that she’s been pushing her best friend away romantically, intimately, for so many years, that this enticing, intoxicating kiss and touch may be in every way possible for her. Feelings that she’s never felt before, that she’s never experienced. One that she wants to continue feeling. Her lungs barely hold any oxygen, but she doesn’t care. Her lips almost yearn for his to always be attached, to always be close by – on her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her hands, her body – simply to feel the electricity in her veins.

Leon Bridges sings melodically in the background, “Girl, you know, I am bound by your love. You’re the one I wan’a be around all the time.”

“Come back to mine,” Harry whispers against her mouth, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin and tracing over her swollen lips. “Come on, Mags, let me be around you.”

“Only once,” Maggie concedes, the thoughts in her mind betraying her with ideas about being around Harry much more than either would have believed would happen with their relationship – in her mind, that is. “Try it once.”

His smirk spreads across his lips in a way that makes butterflies swirl in her stomach and the alcohol to float to her brain with the tipsiest thoughts. “More than enough for me.”

And Harry leans in, kissing Maggie deeper, his hands tangling in her hair, disregarding the entirety of the world and soaking in the uptown girl that happens to be his best friend and the woman he’s in love with, and the one with her lips attached to his.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　✧･ﾟ

Maggie wipes her mouth on the towel set beside the sink, her teeth brushed, and face washed to try and break the wave of nausea that is sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes glance over the tests, and there is a part of her that wants to hide all ten and pretend that this isn’t happening, that she isn’t pregnant, that this life that she has – that for once in her life she really enjoys – wouldn’t change. Her head is pounding, feeling as though her brain would implode with the pressure against her skull. Her thumb passes over the digital screen on one test, 3+ weeks, and there isn’t one specific memory that triggers in her brain as the ‘aha’ moment that would make her realise how she’s gotten pregnant.

One thing is for certain, Maggie is organised and meticulous.

That’s part of the reason Harry is able to run the café so well. His grandparents gave him the café in their will because of how much he loves it, and his charisma and charm really make him the best owner. His unorganised tendencies, however, are absolutely chaotic and would cause bankruptcy by thirty had Maggie not helped when he asked. He was young and inexperienced in the business realm and Maggie was willing to teach him what she knew from the one or two business courses she took at university before settling on an education career.

… so, there really wasn’t any way that she would have missed her birth control. Unless it didn’t work. And Maggie has a heavy feeling it didn’t work.

“Mags.”

Harry’s voice travels into the bathroom, taking Maggie out of her trance and bringing her into reality. Holding her breath, her hands adjust the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her stomach and tying her hair into a ponytail and walking into the living room, Harry’s feet dangling over the edge of the bed the only visible part of him. All of the lights are turned off, the only radiance coming from the sun, and as Maggie walks into the room her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach, staring at the sweet boy that maybe she does love romantically a little bit, the tiniest amount, and the idea that is implanted in her brain that he might not be the same way around her.

“Come back to bed,” Harry grumbles, turning onto his back and reaching his arms out for her. “Wan’a love on you.” His voice is raspy and drawn out with the slurred syllables, and at that moment, Maggie wishes that there was more to their arrangement than the sex, that maybe, one day, they might really love on each other, ‘make love’ as they say even though she hates the phrase.

As always, Maggie sighs and gives in, walking around the metal frame – that she helped him decide on when he moved in a few years ago – and sinking into his arms. Harry lays above her, smiling as he sponges kisses along her neck and jaw, his hands sliding beneath the hem of her shirt she stole from his drawer. His teeth nip at her shoulder, the exposed skin from the worn-out and tattered shirt and kissing over the slight bruise. His hands squeeze her hips, trying to coax a reaction out of her – a moan, a whimper, a sigh, a kiss, anything – to know that she wants the intimacy, too.

“Alright,” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek and leaning back on his heels. “What’s going on? Usually, all I have to do is kiss you and you’re, y’know, opening your legs fo’ me, which isn’t an insult, ‘s quite an ego boost.”

“I’m fine, H,” Maggie hums, forcing a tight-lipped smile and tugging on his arm to bring him back. Maybe if Harry kisses her, she’ll forget all about the tests on the bathroom counter. “Kiss me, again.”

“Told you I’d never force you into anything and I meant it.” Harry stares at Maggie, knowing that there is something behind the worrying line in her forehead and the way her throat bobs every time she swallows. “Did something happen with that bloke last night? Is it your class? Talk to me.”

“Harry, leave it be.”

Can’t leave it be for much longer, you’ll be huge in a few weeks.

Harry and Maggie sit in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the other to speak, waiting to break the silence that loomed awkwardly above them. And when Maggie doesn’t talk, as Harry expected, his frustration returns.

“For an intelligent woman that teaches children how to share their feelings, you’re pretty fuckin’ dense sometimes,” Harry puffs, clambering off the bed and leaving the bedroom, pausing at the doorway to turn around and face her as she brings her knees into her chest and stares at him through hooded eyes. “All I ever ask is that you talk to me. Been this way since we were kids, y’know? Went through all that childhood shit together and you still won’t open up to me. Hate being annoyed with you but sometimes you really piss me off.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And she speaks!” Harry exasperates, tossing his hands in the air and clapping his hands over his heart and nodding to her dramatically, the sarcastic smile that Maggie hates on his lips. He has always been petty, a bit jealous, especially frustrated when she didn’t speak to him about how she is feeling. “Care to share with the class, now?”

“You’re so irritating,” Maggie mutters, swinging her legs over the bed and brushing beside him to step into the kitchen, pouring the freshly brewed coffee – she spends so much time there that she’s bought a pre-programmed coffee pot – into a mug. Her education at least taught her that she could drink one cup of coffee while she’s pregnant, and it would be savoured. “Can you stop staring at me?”

“Only day of the week that you have me all to yourself and you’re being difficult.”

Maggie takes a slow sip from her mug, staring at Harry as he stands between the barstools and leans over the built-in bar set above the kitchen sink. “Isn’t that what you like, Styles? The adrenaline that the chase gives you.”

“Over the last two years, the only thing I’ve had to chase with you is an orgasm, Chicken.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that? Not like we’re ten anymore,” Maggie pauses, pursing her lips in a smirk etched with sarcasm, simply to get under his skin. “Well, you were eight.”

Harry returns the smirk, brushing the hair away from his eyes and sliding on the tortoise-shell glasses that sit on the counter. “Maybe I’ll stop calling you that when you don’t hide away between my sheets when a bloke says he likes you.”

��Never seem to complain to me, considering you’re getting your dick wet.”

“Never seem to complain to me, considering it doesn’t take much to get you on mine.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Harry smiles, walking around the island and taking the mug from her hands and setting it on the opposite counter, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a hard kiss to her jaw. “Only an asshole to you because you let me tease you.” His kisses trail from her jaw to her cheek to the corner of her lips, repeating the path on the other side of her face. “Are you going to stop being difficult and let me kiss you, now?” Harry’s hands travel along her bum, squeezing the curves and lifting her onto the bare counter, very much aware that she isn’t wearing any underwear. “Not even wearing m’briefs, today. How much would you like to bet that my hand goes between your thighs, you’re going to be a mess? Know you like the arguing. Makes you feel all hot.” Maggie gulps, nodding silently. “Use your words, lovey.”

Gently taking his glasses and setting them on the counter beside her, Maggie mumbles, “Can fuck me on the counter with your hand over m’mouth, if you’re right.”

Maggie would have to be quiet as he thrusts into her, otherwise, everyone is going to know what they’re doing on their day off, with the breakfast rush circling through the café downstairs and causing a raucous through the thin walls and wood flooring.

Harry smirks, knowing full well that he is. “You know how to seal a deal.”

Maggie cards her fingers through his curls, bringing his mouth to hers and kissing him deeply, their teeth biting at their lips and fighting for dominance that Harry was bound to win. His knuckle dips between her folds, collecting the arousal that leaked onto her thighs, a wide smirk on his lips as she moans into his mouth and he breaks their kiss, his knuckle between his lips as he suckles on her taste. “That good enough for you?”

“Not entirely but there’s always the lunch break.”

“Think I’ll let you go down on me?”

Harry grins, sponging wet kisses along Maggie’s collar bone, his hands bringing her to the edge of the counter, her thighs spread to welcome his body closer, her ankles hooking around his waist and her arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingertips tangling in his hair and nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Know you’ll let me, but the way you’re squeezing me, right now, is telling me that you don’t want to wait.”

Maggie tugs on Harry’s hair, her lips slanting onto his in a kiss that takes his breath away, his thumbs tucking into the waistband of his briefs and kicking the cotton away from his feet. His hand pumps his cock twice, before gently taking Maggie’s wrist and bringing her hand to his chest, sucking on her lip and silently begging her to touch him. His shaft is heavy in her hand, the way she so effortlessly turns him on and the hardness that was apparent every morning working to make his arousal leak from the bright red tip slapping against his stomach. Her thumb brushes over him, making his breath shudder against her neck.

“Don’t make me wait.”

Harry hums in response, taking her hand and kissing her palm, tugging on her wrist to lead her hand to his hair and teasing his cock at her core, her arousal soaking his tip and making him shiver with anticipation. Maggie is the best sex of Harry’s life – always tight and warm around him, velvet and smooth and squeezing him in the best way, taking him so perfect that he reaches the hilt, as far as she could take, the orgasms long and heavy and leaking out of her – and he wasn’t ashamed to crave the intimacy.

Maggie’s heat clenches around Harry’s cock as he slowly, inch by inch, sinks into her warmth. Her moan is whimpered and desperate, her fingertips digging into his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut as his hips grind against her in the way she adores, the way that brings her the most pleasure, that makes her squeeze his cock so deeply inside of her that he reaches the very hilt every time that makes her see stars. His hand clasps over her mouth as his cock reaches the velvet spot that makes her scream, his name muffled into his palms with a squeak as his fingertips dig into her bum.

Harry nearly pulls all the way out, squeezing his hand over her mouth a bit harder and thrusting into her, their hips colliding and his balls smacking against her bum, the smacking sound echoing through his quiet kitchen. Her orgasm was coming quickly, the way her core was clenching him so tightly telling him so.

“Have you in any room in m’house, in the office, in m’car all the time, don’t I, lovey? Thought you’d never be with me and now you want me to fuck you on my kitchen counter,” Harry pants, releasing his hand on her mouth and kissing her neck harshly, barely grazing his teeth on her skin to prevent anything noticeable to be seen by her co-workers Monday morning. “Never want this to end. Know you want to be with me.”

Maggie moans Harry’s name, his thumb drawing on her clit and her head knocking back against the cabinet. Her breathing is shaky, and her orgasm is so close she can taste it. “And what does that mean?”

“Don’ know,” Harry grunts, Maggie squeezing him so tightly as she orgasms that his orgasm spills into her without warning. “Kids or summat. No marriage.”

“Already did that,” Maggie breathes, her thighs shaking around Harry’s waist as she leans against the cabinet. Harry’s forehead is resting on her chest, trying to regain his breath.

And then it hits him. Already did that.

Harry lifts his head, his fingertips gently grabbing her chin and making their faces meet. “Wait, what?”

Maggie doesn’t open her eyes, sinking into the way his hand feels on her skin and his thumbs are rubbing her thigh comfortingly. “What?”

“Already did what, Mags?”

And that’s what makes Maggie open her eyes, Harry’s eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. His shaft is still deep inside her, and every tiny movement is making her senses go into overdrive. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, what, Maggie?”

“Give me a second,” Maggie whispers nervously, squeezing his shoulders as he gently helps her onto her feet, his cock soft against his thighs as he reaches for his briefs and tugs the material up his legs. Her legs are slightly shaking as she walks into the bathroom, oblivious to Harry following closely behind, taking every pregnancy test and shoving it into her drawer near the sink. His hand touches her shoulder, her hands clutching onto the countertop to break the wave of nausea overtook her. “Fuck.”

Maggie’s body flings over the toilet, gagging as the morning sickness waves over her empty stomach. Harry knows what Maggie was saying, and there is an uneasy feeling in his chest. He certainly wasn’t expecting this to be the way their day started. His body crouches down beside her, tightening the ponytail on her head and rubbing his hand over her back, gently kissing her shoulder comfortingly.

“Take a breath,” Harry whispers, his heart breaking as a tear slips down her cheek, her forehead laying on her forearms as she hides away from his stare. “Don’t hide, it’s okay.”

Maggie doesn’t say anything, flushing the toilet and closing the lid, moving to the sink and frantically brushing her teeth to rid her tongue of the wretched taste. Her hands grab the towel, patting her mouth dry, her hands holding onto the counter as she squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath. Her hands reach for the drawer she hurriedly shut, opening the space for Harry to see, taking a seat on the toilet cover and hiding her face in her hands.

“Alright,” Harry says, holding the pregnancy test in his hands and staring at the two bright pink lines on the white paper. His hand reaches for another, the digital screen saying, Pregnant 3+ Weeks, in printed black letters. He could see clear as day what Maggie meant, but he needed to hear her say it. “Alright.”

Harry turns around, his heart breaking as Maggie cries silently into her hands. He always hated seeing her cry. From the time they were four and six, Harry was doing everything he could to make sure Maggie would never cry.

“Hey, Mags, look at me,” Harry whispers, sitting on the tile and squeezing her knees, kissing her thigh sweetly and trying to get a better glance at her face. “Baby.”

Maggie’s face lifts immediately; they rarely call each other ‘baby’. There are some moments that it slips, that Maggie is brushing her fingers through Harry’s hair to bring him away from his work or Harry’s thrusting relentlessly into her and wants to praise her for taking him so well. Never outside of the bedroom, like this, though. It was an unspoken rule that Harry never agreed to; it meant that their arrangement was only sex, nothing more, leaving the terms of endearment to the person they settle down with.

Not that either of them has ever settled down with anyone besides each other.

Harry smiles softly, “Come on, Mags, you need a hug. Think your love tank is empty.”

“Don’t think it is, but alright,” Maggie sighs, standing on her feet and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sinking into his embrace. “Maybe it was a little empty.”

“Mags.”

Maggie doesn’t move, Harry’s embrace too tight and comforting around her. “Hm.”

“Am I allowed to say something?” Maggie nods silently and squeezes Harry shoulder to tell him to continue. “Don’t want you to think ’m pushing you into anything. Know that I wouldn’t do that, right? Anything we do, it’s all up to you,” he says, brushing his hands along her spine, kissing her neck and squeezing her tighter into his chest.

“Already know what you’re thinking,” Maggie whispers, opening her eyes and staring at the test sitting on the counter. “You think we should have it. Don’t you?”

“’s your choice, whatever you want to do. ‘m here for you, one hundred percent, like always.” Harry takes a deep breath, turning his face slightly and brushing his nose against her cheek, staring into her eyes and allowing his lips to tug into a shy smile. “Think that if anyone could do this, it would be us. Mags, we’ve known each other our whole lives; ‘s not like we’re strangers having a baby because of a one-night stand.”

“Our whole relationship is going to change,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes and her breathing getting shaky as her lip wobbles. “Don’t want to lose you as my best friend. Can’t see you leave. ‘s my fear, you know that.”

“Mags, I’ll never leave you,” Harry says, kissing Maggie’s temple and squeezing his arms around her waist, his lips tugging into a smile as she hugs him tighter, his hands gently rubbing her back. “Haven’t you caught onto that by now? I love you. I’ve got you. Always do. Have since we were four years old.”

“How are we going to do this? My flat is barely functioning, as it is, and I don’t have a spare room. Not to mention work, I’ll be leaving my students midway through the term.” Her breathing is shaky as her fingertips twirl around the curls at the nape of his neck. “Are we supposed to share the baby? Don’t want to do it how our parents did. All of this is so much.”

Harry grabs Maggie’s cheeks, his hands cupping her jaw and his freshly painted nails – the lilac colour one that she chose for him earlier in the week – dragging along her skin. “Maggie, listen to me, alright? This isn’t all on you to figure out.”

“But isn’t it?”

“Mags, I have that spare room that I’ve never made into anything. Grandad used it for his workshop when Mum moved out. Can make that into a nursery. And it’s not like we’re not already sharing a bed and a shower, you know. ‘s like you’re living here a majority of the week anyway. Can do this, you and me. Know so.”

“Are we supposed to, like, be together, now or summat? Is that what we’re supposed to do? Fuck,” Maggie sighs, her forehead dropping to his collarbone and her hot breaths panting onto his bare torso.

“Mags,” Harry soothes, gently brushing his fingers through her hair, kissing her head sweetly, “baby, can you take a breath, please? For me? One really big breath.” Maggie sucks in a breath and lets the shakiest release heave in her chest. “Good, lovey.” His hand squeezes her hip encouragingly. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. ‘m not seeing anyone besides you. ‘m happy to keep it that way. ‘m all yours, whichever way you want me.”

There Harry goes with the pet name again. He’s going to make Maggie melt into the ground if he calls her that one more time.

“Our families are going to moan about how we’re not together and should’ve been married or at least told them that we’re dating. Our sisters are going to show how we were the fucked ones.”

“Our families set us up for failure with their examples of marriage, didn’t they?” Harry kisses Maggie’s temple, “Can tell them we’re dating, alright? Comfort them and give us time to figure things out with us.”

“Mum is not going to believe us.”

“M’mum will.”

“Mum thinks ‘m easy and that’s why no one will date me,” Maggie sighs, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Mum compares everything I do to Lucy and how she’s more successful than I am.”

“Maggie,” Harry says softly, his arms around her shoulders and trying to think how to better comfort her, “you are so incredibly successful. Have a whole classroom to yourself and students that adore you. Have great friends.” His shoulders shrug, making her smile into his neck and hug him tighter. Harry was only a slightly taller, Maggie fitting perfectly into his side. “Think I’m not too bad, either.”

“No,” she says quietly, “you’re okay.” Moving away from his neck, Maggie meets his eyes with a shy smile. “Kept you around this long for a reason.”

“It’s alright to be scared.” His words are encouraging, reassuring. He is so scared. This is all new territory, an entirely new experience. “Christ, I’m scared out of my mind, but it’s clear to me that whatever we decide, if you decide that you want to have it, we’ll be better.”

“Think so?”

“Doesn’t mean much since I have zero experience with children, but I believe it. Think we could be much better.” Harry tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture simple yet affectionate all at once. “All you have to do is tell me, Mags.”

“Me too.” Maggie sucks in a deep breath, the silence washing over the two for a few minutes as she thinks carefully about her decision. Maybe Harry is right. Maybe they could do this better. Maybe they will. That’s what she chooses to believe. “Guess we’re having a baby.”

Harry smiles, nodding silently, kissing her hairline and hugging her into his chest once more. “Guess so.”

~

Harry and Maggie take the day to really understand what is happening.

Quiet conversations during their lunch at the breakfast table situated in the makeshift dining space, Harry taking the opportunity to make dinner and talk about when they’d like to tell their parents, when they’d like to tell their friends – who surely have already caught into the fact that they’re together in the untraditional sense. Maggie made an appointment at a nearby clinic in the morning when Harry would be in the café for the morning shift, simply to take a blood test and know that she is pregnant – although there were ten positive tests, a negative result seems unlikely – and would tell him everything when she returned.

Nights were typically when, if they were being honest, their benefit arrangement was entirely in effect. Harry and Maggie christened every corner in the apartment, and yet it was Harry’s bedroom that they found themselves most comfortable in. Maybe it’s because it was more intimate, which was something that they craved with each other although unspoken. Maybe it’s because that was where Maggie let Harry kiss her deeper, passionately. Maybe it’s because it felt like theirs.

Harry and Maggie are laying beneath the duvet tonight, instead, her bare thighs tossed over his legs as he quietly sips on his beer, mindlessly watching the programme on the television as she immerses herself in poetry, his fingertips drawing circles on her knees carelessly. Their silence isn’t bothersome, rather nice in the way that her thoughts have been everywhere and anywhere for fourteen hours. Her lips tuck into a straight line, reading one poem over and over again, trying to understand why the words made her want to cry. Harry kissed her over two years ago, and since then, there have been other men that have kissed her, that have made the attempt to go further, and yet, there she is, laying in his bed, in his clothes, with his hands on her skin.

“That night, at the Leon Bridges concert,” Maggie says, drawing Harry’s attention and making him lower the volume. “What made you want to kiss me? Like, why then? Hadn’t kissed each other in years, at that point.”

“That’s why,” Harry shrugs, taking a heavy sip from the glass bottle and setting it on the coaster beside his wooden nightstand, his eyes falling to her legs. “Hadn’t kissed you in years. Nothing more than a kiss on the cheek for what, eight years?” His words are a bit slurred, but very much aware of the seriousness of their conversation. “Not very much fun for me.”

“Harry,” she sighs, “you’ve had girlfriends since that kiss at my eighteenth.”

“And?”

Her hands close the book and set it on the nightstand behind her, leaning on her forearms and staring at him. “Make it sound like you’ve not kissed anyone in eight years. Not that you haven’t kissed me.”

“Not exactly who I wanted to be kissing, though.” Harry takes another sip, the bottle nearly empty. “Haven’t you realised that you’re the only stable relationship I’ve ever had?” He chuckles breathlessly, “And you won’t even properly date me.”

“H,” Maggie breathes, her lips turning into a pout, her legs curling beneath her and swinging over the edge of the bed as Harry does the same, grabbing his wrist before he can walk out of the bedroom.

“Don’t go all teacher-y, on me, now. Don’t need to comfort me like one of your students.”

“Harry, that’s not fair.”

Harry turns on his heel, gently prying her hand away from his wrist, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his tall stature making him nearly reach the arch. “All this is quite funny, y’know that?”

Maggie folds her arms in front of her chest. “How is it funny?”

“’Cause whether you wanted to or not, now we’re pretty much tied together for life. Eighteen years, at least.” His eyes flicker to her tummy, not yet growing or visible. “Can’t have someone take over fo’ me as your best friend when we share a baby.”

And that’s when Maggie realises what happened, what caused this shift in Harry’s demeanour. One of their friends rang her after they finished lunch, asking how her date went Friday night. They always mention Harry, too. Naturally, Maggie answers with a witty lie about how they’ve talked but haven’t seen each other – even though they had sex the night before and this morning.

“You always do this,” she sighs sadly, standing against the wall outside the bedroom, her head nearly hitting the frame that holds his favourite picture of the two from a family wedding a few years ago.

“Do what?” Harry wonders, tossing the glass bottle in the bin along with the previous three. He reaches for two glasses, pouring himself and her one to bring to bed. He was exhausted and simply wanted to fall asleep and forget.

“Get jealous when you see that someone is talking to me,” Maggie says flatly. “Get jealous when one of our friends mentions a date I went on.” Her heart aches with the words tumbling from her lips without consent. “We’re not together, Harry. Could go out on dates, if I wanted.”

“Don’t ‘ave to tell me, Mags.” Harry forces a smile onto his mouth, and Maggie swears she’s never seen Harry look so upset with her. “’m always the one you call when they don’t work out, ‘member?”

Her eyes well up with tears, unable to really comprehend what she’s being told. He’s right. One hundred percent correct. That’s what makes this hurt more. “Don’t be so harsh to me.”

“Not trying to be harsh,” he sighs, running his hands over his face frustratedly and sucking in a deep breath. “Forget it.”

“No, I want to talk about it,” Maggie says, nodding as Harry hands her the water and nods to walk inside the bedroom.

He sets the water on the coaster, drawing the curtains shut and turning the television off for the evening. “Now?”

“Yes.” Her hands move to her hips, trying to contain her emotions, his stance seeming so harsh and distant. He was never this way with her. His warmth always made everything better, and yet, in this moment, everything about him is screaming that he would be cold to the touch. “Don’t go to sleep angry with me.”

“Not angry with you,” Harry assures, turning the light and climbing beneath the comfort, patting the mattress where Maggie always sleeps and smiling to coax her inside. “Have an early morning tomorrow, I want to go to sleep.”

“Do you want me to go home?”

He shakes his head, turning his torso towards her and holding out his arm, smiling as she takes his hand and turns her light, tucking the duvet over her waist and welcoming him into her arms. “Never want you to leave, Mags,” Harry whispers.

“Alright.” Maggie kisses Harry’s shoulder, smiling as his muscles ease with her touch. Maybe he wasn’t so far away, after all. “I love you,” she whispers, her heart sinking as he waits to reciprocate her kiss to his lips.

“Know you do, just not like I love you.” Harry tucks her hair behind her ear, kissing Maggie’s forehead and muttering. “That’s okay.”

Harry turns onto his side, facing away from Maggie, reaching for her hand to wrap around his waist and cuddle him as tightly as possible. His biggest fear is feeling her slip away, to have her disappear. Heartbreak is devastating and there is something in the way he feels as though he could never recover from losing her that scares him the most. And so, Harry takes the midnight hugs and quiet kisses and soundless sleep, trying to memorise the way it makes him feel, the way she makes him feel.

For Harry, it was never a question of if they would be together, rather when. And this was their when. He has one opportunity to show that this could work, that they could work. Because even if Maggie isn’t in love with Harry, right now, that doesn’t mean it would be impossible to have her fall in love with him. Having been loosely together for nearly two years, there has to be love there. Has to. Harry should at least try. He owes it to himself, to at least give a wholehearted try when he has the opportunity.

And Harry will.

Harry falls asleep, thinking about how much he loves the woman holding him, and Maggie lays awake for hours, with the loveliest man in her arms, thinking about how her very best friend loves her in the way she is petrified to love him.

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the contaminated beer bottle

Tongue Tied 1/?

masterlist

word count: 2.6k

warnings: cursing ig? mentions of death

read it on wattpad

playlist

-

"Miss Connolly, what makes you think you'd be a good fit for emancipation?"

The unbothered judge flipped through a stack of papers, glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. The seventeen-year-old shifted uncomfortably in her seat between her uncle and her lawyer. It was painfully evident that all four of them, the judge, the lawyer, the uncle, and the girl, would rather be anywhere else.

"Well," the girl coughed to clear her throat, "I believe that I have the facilities to thrive on my own. I have a paid off house and car in my name from my mom's will, a sizeable amount of savings from my dad's, and a steady income from my job. It's not huge, but I'm hoping to build it up over the summer. I'm also on track to go to UNC Chapel Hill with my test scores and my dad's legacy, so education won't be a problem."

The air in the room seemed to get thicker with each word. The girl's throat was drying, and she felt the sweat building up on her palms. The office was silent apart from the nail-tapping of the lawyer, the occasional cough from the judge, and her uncle's chair squeaking.

"Overall, I think I'm just as capable to provide for myself, if not more, than my uncle. I believe I am responsible enough to be recognized as an adult, and I really want this for myself," she finished.

The girl let out a huge sigh she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. The drab room grew silent again apart from the bored "hmm" from the judge. Her uncle squeaked in his chair again. The nail-tapping from the lawyer continued.

"Mr. Connolly, do you believe your neice is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The greying man didn't hesitate to grumble a rushed 'Yes' while stroking his untamed beard. The judge nodded in response.

"And Mrs. Watson, based on your assessment, do you too believe that Miss Connolly is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The lawyer stopped her nail tapping and shot a plastic smile towards the judge. "Yes Sir. From my meetings with Miss Connolly, I believe she is a perfect fit," molasses dripped from her deep voice, gravelly from years of smoking.

"Well," the judge shuffled a few more papers, "Then it seems you've made my job here easy. With great references and support from your uncle and reviewer, I don't see any reason to deny you what you want. By the power vested in me by the North Carolina Judicial System, I declare Rose-Ann Mae Connolly to be an emancipated minor."

The air in the room thinned and Rosie felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders.

The next few minutes of papers and signatures were a blur. Her body carried her through the motions, but her mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in the realm of 'Holy shit. I'm free'. She swiftly shook the judge's hand, and collected her paperwork. Her uncle was already out the door, and she didn't hesitate to follow.

The pair weaved in and out of hallways and staircases towards the exit in silence. Rosie's mind was reeling with too many emotions, and David Connolly just wanted to get home and continue his marathon of Duck Dynasty. Before she knew it, they'd reached her mom's Mini-Cooper and his 2004 Toyota Corolla parked side by side. David Connolly continued to move in silence as he transferred a large suitcase from his trunk to her backseat.

"Well, uh," he swung the door of her red car shut, "I guess this is it."

He shifted awkwardly, and scratched at his overgrown beard. The Connollys cleared their throats simultaneously in a pathetic attempt to fill the awkward silence.

"Yeah, looks like it," Rosie sighed with a tight-lipped smile. Her uncle nodded sharply and unlocked his dented car door.

"Drive safe, then. You have my number if something goes wrong," the greying man grunted while climbing into his beat-up car.

Rosie waved a breathy, "Bye," just as he slammed the car door shut. He didn't hesitate to pull, quite recklessly, out of the parking lot. The 17-year-old watched the Toyota drive away until she could no longer see it. She shook herself back to reality as the car blinked from existence. Slowly, a grin took over her face. Her heart beat out of her chest in excitement.

She could finally go home.

Rosie jumped into her infamous red Mini-Cooper and slammed the door shut behind her. She gripped the wheel, her grin growing so wide it hurt. She released the scream of excitement bubbling inside her. She must have looked crazy to anyone passing by, but Rosie didn't care.

She was finally going home.

The young girl forced herself to settle down, but a smile remained. Rosie inserted her mother's Beatles for Sale CD into the car player and prepared herself for the 2-hour drive to the OBX. The engine revved in sync with the silky, smooth voice of Paul McCartney. Rosie zoomed out of the parking lot in record time to begin her trek down the North Carolina state road. Signs, farms, and gas stations passed, but the only thing on Rosie's mind was home.

God, she'd missed her friends. She'd missed late nights at The Wreck with Kie, and study sessions on the docks with Pope. She'd missed impromptu races against John B, and the whole crew dog-piling on John B's hammocks. Hell, she'd even missed rolling blunts with JJ and their constant bickering.

Rosie's fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat of Eight Days A Week. The warmth in her stomach and the smile on her face felt unfamiliar. This was the first time she'd felt true joy since her mom had passed just 4 months earlier. Finally, everything seemed to be falling back into place.

By the time the teenager had reached the ferry, she'd cycled through two Beatles CD's and one Bob Dylan. Just a little further, she thought to herself as she boarded the large boat. Her phone buzzed beside her. She scrambled to grab it, nearly dropping it.

12:01 P.M   Kie: any news?

1:43 P.M   Pope: How'd it go?

1:44 P.M   Pope: Btw, if u can't come back we'll survive. U know like good riddance see u never  type vibe

1:45 P.M   Pope: Sorry that was JJ

1:45 P.M   Pope: He's an ass

3:59 P.M   JB: ur KILLING us here. what's the verdict!?

Rosie grinned at the texts she'd received from her friends over the past couple of hours. She began to type a reply, but deleted it midway. She was so close by now that it would be more fun to surprise them instead.

The teenager leaned against the railing next to her car. The salty smell and cool breeze tickling her nose was a bliss like no other. Rosie peered into the distance, catching sight of a blurry island in the distance. A soft grin tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, enjoying the ocean air and peaceful waves she'd missed oh-so-much.

The warmth in her gut grew as the ferry approached the dock. Within minutes, Rosie was driving her Mini-Cooper off the massive boat.

The Outer Banks. Home. She couldn't believe she was finally back. Rosie turned onto the main road and drove towards the small home one of her dearest friends inhabited. She'd drop off her things at her own house later. She just couldn't wait a second longer before seeing her friends.

Rosie usually hated driving through the Figure Eight, but even the sight of the lavish houses and boys in polos put a smile on her face. It was the first sense of familiarity she'd felt in months. Minutes passed and her heart raced as she got closer and closer. Before she knew it, the Chateau was just in the distance. Another uncontrollable grin took over Rosie's face. She was bouncing in her seat in excitement.

She pulled her small car onto the gravel driveway and jumped out. Rosie stared at the shack in disbelief for a brief moment. She was afraid she'd never see the beat-up place ever again, but here she was. Kie's familiar shriek sounded from inside the house. This was enough to send Rosie racing towards the front door. The screen door nearly swung off its hinges from her force.

Four startled faces shot towards the door. There was a moment of silence: Rosie beaming in the doorway, John B dropping a half-full bottle of beer, Pope hanging sideways off the couch, Kie dropping her jaw, and JJ, well, JJ looking unbothered

The few seconds of silence were short-lived as the room burst out into indistinguishable screams.

"Oh my god!"

"You're alive!"

"She's a free woman!"

Rosie was tackled by Kie, quickly followed by John B and Pope. The four teenagers nearly tumbled to the ground.

"Guys... can't.. breathe..." Rosie struggled from underneath John B's armpit.

"It's what you get for leaving us hanging all day! We thought we'd never see you again," Kie laughed, squeezing her friend even tighter.

"Oh come on, Kie," Rosie wiggled out of the suffocating group hug. "I wanted it to be a surprise! I did good too, didn't I? Gotta keep you on your toes," she giggled.

"It was a pretty good surprise, Kie," Pope laughed, swinging an arm over Rosie's left shoulder while John B took her right.

"I've seen better. You know, could've added some flair: fireworks, balloons, a unicorn. 5 out of 10 at best," a certain blond piped up from the couch.

Rosie Connolly locked eyes with JJ Maybank. Usually, her mortal nemesis—a pest, if you will—but today, a friend. A mischievous grin took over her face, matching his playful smirk.

"Hey to you too, shithead," she quipped. "Aw, how sweet! You got me a 'welcome home' gift," Rosie swiftly shot forward and snagged his beer bottle mid-swig. JJ yanked her arm back in an attempt to salvage his beer, but she'd already stuck her tongue inside it.

"Oh, sorry, did you want this?" Rosie cocked her head at a pissed off JJ. "How rude of me! Here, you can have it," the girl feigned innocence, but couldn't wipe the devious smirk from her lips.

JJ snatched the beer back, "Oh nah," he spit inside the bottle, swirled it around a little, and handed it back to Rosie, "It's all yours. Welcome home, bitch."

She crinkled her nose in disgust at the contaminated drink. JJ leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. Rosie moved to dump the drink over his head, but John B intercepted before it could escalate.

"Hey hey, no need to get all loved up now. Let's keep the PDA to a minimum," John B snatched the bottle and set it on the counter. He tossed two new bottles to his bickering friends. Rosie caught it gracefully, and fell back onto the couch next to Kie.

"I swear, in some past life you two were an old married couple," Kie laughed, draping her legs over Rosie's. The Pogues chorused in laughter, apart from JJ and Rosie. He shot her his infamously infuriating smirk, to which she took a massive swig of beer.

"Damn, I've missed this," Rosie moaned at the bitter taste. "Haven't had a drink in four months."

Rosie brought the bottle back to her lips to take a second sip, but paused upon the realization that all four pairs of eyes were trained on her expectantly.

"What?" she cried, "Can I not have a drink without being stared down?"

"What do you mean what? We haven't seen you in four months and all you've gotta say is how much you love beer?" Pope deadpanned.

"Rose-Ann Mae Connolly, I knew you were always just mooching off of me!" John B jokingly accused. Rosie rolled her eyes at the two boys and set down the bottle.

"What've you been up to without us? How was the end of the school year? How was the trial?" Kie ignored John B and turned to face her friend with curious eyes.

"School? Boring. Living with David? Boring. Trial? Boring. And there you have it! 4 months in 5 seconds!" Rosie entangled her legs with Kiara's, letting her feet fall onto John B's lap.

Kiara began to protest at the severe lack of information, but was interrupted.

"A woman of many words," JJ grumbled from across the couch with his eyes closed as if he were mid-nap.

"Seriously, guys," Rosie huffed, "That's all it was—boring. But I'm here now, a legal adult, and I just wanna have fun, so let's do something fucking insane!" she diverted her friends away from asking anymore questions.

Truth be told, the last few months had been absolutely miserable. Grief is a heavy emotion. The great thing about having a family and friends is they can help carry some of the weight. But Rosie had been forced to spend those months grieving over the loss of her mother alone, and she was ready to move past it.

"Fair enough. Why don't we go late-night diving off the cliff up Old Miller Road later?" Kie suggested.

"Do you want to die?" Pope deadpanned at the same time that JJ spoke, "Sounds exhilarating".

"Oh, come on Pope. It's my first night back! Do it or you're lame," Rosie laughed at her nervous friend.

"Then I'm lame."

"Well, 4 to 5 majority rules," John B clapped his hands, "we'll leave from here at 10:00."

Four out of the five teenagers cheered. Pope crossed his arms and grumbled in disapproval.

Rosie pulled herself from the confines of Kie, "Sounds like a plan, but I should probably head back to my place for a little bit before. Need to unpack and, uh, clear some stuff out," she coughed awkwardly at the last part. Her friends nodded in understanding.

"I can come with if you want? You know, help you unpack and stuff," Kiara offered a warm smile.

Rosie smiled back, but shook her head, "Thanks, Kie, but I've got it covered."

"Are you sure?" John B added.

"Really," Rosie emphasized. "I'll be fine. I need to sort some papers out, anyways." The newly-emancipated teenager reluctantly lifted herself from the comfy couch and the warmth of her friends. "I'll be back soon. Don't you worry your pretty little head," she made a show of ruffling John B's untamed hair.

"Hurry back!" JJ's voice dripped with sarcasm underneath the hat that was now covering his face.

"Just for you," Rosie quipped. She did one last once-over at her friends before swinging the unstable door open. "See you soon!" she called as she strode back to her car.

The chatter of her friends died out as she moved further from the house and closer to the Mini-Cooper. A different sort of happiness flooded her body. Being isolated from the people she loved for so long was like losing a piece of her heart, and she'd finally found it. It was a warmth like no other, and as she drove home, she could only count down the minutes until she'd be with them again.

-

this is unedited oops

if you’d like to be added to a taglist, message/pm me!

part 2 coming soon!

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

Sacrifice Chapter 1

So I'm trying to edit chapter 1 of Sacrifice because I really don't like it and even I can tell how much my writing style has changed in three ish months but I can't figure out exactly whats wrong with it and since I've never shared anything on here ever thats this long and also I need want someone's opinion on this (Please & thank you very much), here's the first chapter of Sacrifice. I already know a bunch of stuff I'm cutting out the awkward romance part specifically i really should not even attempt to write stuff like that its just awkward but I can't figure out exactly what else is wrong with it so this is my solution instead. You sincerely truly don't have to read it if you don't want to I just thought this might be a good idea. And also its something to do if you're bored.

It's below the cut.

Taglist: @golden-eyed-writer

I grinned. Anne and Enna were arguing over the rules of Gin, while Anne, she was Enna’s twin, anyway, while Anne’s kids played tag with my nephew, Zane. Jen and Zebra collided in the middle of the room, and Zane didn’t stop in time, so they ended up in a pile of tangled limbs. My sister emerged from the other room and sighed, then burst into laughter, her wavy, silver tipped, black hair bouncing up and down. We were nearly identical, same silver blue eyes, silver tipped black hair, and dark skin. Our scales were different though. Ana’s smooth, tear drop shaped, silver scales covered her collarbone and wound down one arm; mine encircled my torso. Mine were easier to hide, but more people knew about them. I cast a lot of wind spells.

Ana only showed her scales to people she trusted, so walking in the room in a black tank top was a statement. Anne and Enna were identical, and their names mirrored each other. Blue black hair, Anne’s in twin buns and Enna’s in a half ponytail. Alabaster skin tinged with blue, and blue eyes. They had wings, but Enna was grounded. There was a knock on the door of Lei’s apartment. Lei, a blond Demonsblood, was standing closest to the door and pulled it open, sticking her head out. Two seconds later a boy dressed in the Barony’s colors entered.

“Uh, is there any person named,” He checked the sheet of paper clutched in his hands, “Anne Jones & Enna Helder-Kromlin here?” The twins stood up from the corner and scowled briefly, then Enna darted across the room, grabbed the paper, read it, and swore in Dragon.

“You can go now.” Said Faith, Lei’s redheaded younger cousin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, then scampered away. “What is it? Dennis explode something again?” Asked Anne, striding over.

“There’s a gnome, blond, asking to see us. The note says she’s carrying the seal of the last baron.” Her twin answered in a shocked voice.

“Mae?”

“Maybe.” While they conversed, and Ana shrugged her jacket off after yanking it on when the door was opened, there was a second knock. Emily, a gnome alchemist and a friend of ours, answered this time, and her lavender eyes stared unseeing into the face of a second messenger. This one had a message for Ana. After reading it, my twin turned to me and grinned. Ana’s smile sometimes scared people. We both had pointed, sharp canine teeth, courtesy of our draconic ancestry. And that had the side effect of looking like you were about to murder someone when you smiled.

“Cerea’s alive. She’s here, with the gnome En mentioned. Joshua recognized the name.” A rush of emotions went through me. Two hundred and seventy four years ago mine and Ana’s home had been burned to the ground by Dizerdrat, an ancient red dragon. Cerea had been the name of a half elf with impressive innate primal magic, who had left when she was twenty, three months befor A'sshyse burned, leaving us the only survivors. The name was a bit ironic actually, A'sshyse sounded like Ashes if pronounced correctly, and that’s all it was now. Ashes and memories.

We didn’t bother to say anything, no one did. Two sets of twins walked out the door, leaving confusion, five friends, and three ten year olds behind. Enna twisted around before leaving, threatening, “If anyone touches those cards I will kill you.” Then she ran, and the second she and Anne were outside they broke out into a full out sprint, matching each other pace for pace. When we got to the main hall area, which had a bunch of alcoves off it that served as slightly more private spaces for meetings and the like, Anne and Enna had already tackle hugged a gnome with curly blond hair, and a black haired half elf stood nearby, awkwardly. Enna was whispering,

"Thirty five years Mae. Thirty five goddamn years. Where were you?"

“I was- Thirty five years?!”

“Yes.” Answered Anne. Mae rounded on the half elf, who put her hands up in a sign of surrender. Before the gnome could get a word out Cerea spoke.

“I didn’t know alright? I’m bad with time.”

“Still. You should have told me!”

“I know. I should have done a lot of things.” It was at that moment she looked in our direction, and saw us. Ana didn’t hesitate, rushing in to embrace a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly three hundred years. I hung back a bit. Not because of my sister, but because me and Cerea hadn’t exactly parted on… civil terms. Half a minute later Ana grabbed my arm, muttering Draconic into my ear.

“I don’t care what happened last time. You never got over it, I doubt she did.”

“Erm, okay-”

Cerea interrupted. “You survived?! What in the nine hells happened to A’sshyse?!”

“Dragonfire.” Ana answered. Then I blurted out, in Dragon, before I had to wait another three centuries to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was stupid, and, and an idiot-” Cerea intterupted in the same language.

“Yes, you were sometimes. But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. We were both wrong about the other.” She hugged me tightly, but quickly. As Cerea stepped away I noticed how much toll the last three hundred years had taken on her. She still had raven hair and coffee colored skin, but the freckles that once covered her face were gone. Her eyes still had the same twinkle, but the green was darker, closer to emerald than I’d ever seen them and older than they should be.

“So where were you?” Asked Enna, directing the question at Mae.

“I was petrified. I left right after you guys killed Shallodet, and then it’s a blur until waking up to find my very surprised teacher.”

Enna shuddered at the mention of the name. Shallodet was not a pleasant memory for her.

“Teacher?”

“Yeah. Anne & Enna, this is Cerea Roven. Cerea, these are my sisters. Anne and Enna Helder.”

“Helder-Kromlin. Claimed Mom’s name properly. But I’m not forgetting Helder. It’s hyphenated now. Drove the official crazy.” Corrected Enna. Anne followed with,

“Erm, it’s actually Anne Jones. I might have gotten married.”

“Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hi?” Cerea grinned awkwardly, raising one hand in a half wave for a brief second. “Who’s the Gnome?” Asked Ana.

“I’m Mae Helder. Who are you?”

“Anastasia. Call me Ana. He’s Dash.”

“Hey. So you’re their sister?” I asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“Uh huh. How’d you meet these two?”

“The War.” Answered Ana.

“War? What War?”

“Little sister, you’ve missed a lot. About a decade ago there was a War. Norfolk is gone.”

“Wow. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, here’s the slight matter of there being a different Baron.”

“What?!”

“His name is Fredrick Falk.”

“Wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah. He’s gone. Died about two years after you left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s okay.” The previous Baron had been the first person who had believed in Enna for a long time. When he died she had taken it hard. He had been the latest in a long line of parental figures; and each one had died.

Pike, her adopted mother, had died when she was 10. Her older brother, Zibra, had died when she was nineteen, and everyone thought it was her fault. Everyone except Anne. Her mentor, a half-dragon named Sasha, had died when she was twenty eight. When she was 40 she came back to the capital, only to find Anne missing. She thought it was her fault. Anne had nearly died. Then her Uncle, her mother’s twin, had turned out be her mother’s murder, confessed to killing Zibra and framing her, then he tried to kill both the twins, leaving Enna with thin scars that covered her arms, shoulders, back & torso.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

“Well,” Said Cerea nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Gray has heard some things, concerning things. They’re actually what led to me finding Mae.”

“What things?” I asked.

“The forges, the ones under the mountain, are waking up again.”

“I still don’t understand why he would put forges there, of all locations.” Muttered Anne.

“You need to tell someone.”

“That’s why we came here. Under the Code, you need two high ranking Druids to request a meeting with a ruler.”

“That’s surprisingly smart for a twenty five year old.” Said Enna, perhaps the third time in her life she had judged someone because of their apparent age. Cerea, unsurprisingly, burst out laughing.

“I’m two hundred and ninety ish. Can’t remember the exact number. Not 25.”

“Two hundred and ninety four.” I muttered quietly.

“Two hundred and ninety four, then. Either way, I’m not twenty five.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Twenty five is the oldest anyone’s ever thought I looked. I had a couple friends, a few years ago, they thought I was nineteen. Never got around to correcting them.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered. Cerea had always looked young for her age, and it, plus her innate and extremely powerful primordial magic and wildshaping powers, had allowed her to get away with more things than the average kid would. Most of these exploits were related to stealing jelly tarts, which Ana stole from her and I then stole some of them from Ana. Yeah, fourteen year old me probably had better things to do than steal pastries from a 7 year old prankster, but it was either that or get possessed again, which is not an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

Yes, you read that correctly. Possessed. It’s a very long story that will probably come to light in time. Probably. Either way, we were interrupted by Joshua, the Baron’s 19 year old half-dragon grandson materializing from out of nowhere. His brown curls were more rumpled than usual, and his blue eyes shown with exhaustion. Joshua’s robes, the outfit commonly worn by wizards-in-training, were rumpled, like he had slept in them. He wasn’t strictly half dragon, closer to a quarter dragon. His dad’s dad had been a black dragon. His Mum, the Baron’s youngest daughter, had eloped with his dad and Joshua had only been raised in the court after his parents died in an Orc raid when he was seven. Before you ask, yes most of us had/have sob stories for backgrounds. Happy people who are mentaly stable don’t go out and hunt literal dragons.

Either way, the top half of his face, on a diagonal from right to left, was covered in smooth, black scales. They continued down his neck, and onto one arm. Joshua asked, “So you guys do know each other. I mean, I didn’t think there were a lot of black haired and crazy powerful half elven druids, but hey. There could’ve been more than one. Anyway, Grandpa’s ready to talk to you two. You know how to get there?”

“Yep.” Confirmed Mae, leading Cerea down the hallway. Joshua stayed, leaning against the stone wall.

“Hey.” Anne raised one hand half heartedly, in a sort of wave.

“Hi.”

“So I know how Ana & Dash know the mildly terrifying druid lady, but how do you two know the Gnome?”

“She’s our sister.”

“But neither of you are two Gnomes in a trench coat. So how?”

“I don’t even own a trenchcoat.” Muttered Enna.

“Exactly.”

“She’s our adopted sister, our foster mother fostered her too, though we didn’t know that then.”

“You had a foster mother?”

Anne sighed. “Yes. Pike Helder. Why do you think we speak Gnome?”

“I don’t know. Figured you just knew a lot of Gnomes.”

“I mean, we do, but that’s not the point.”

“Also, I think we would know if you guys were just Gnomes in trenchcoats.” I remarked.

“Yeah, I think you would.” Said Anne.

“You okay?” Ana asked Joshua, probably in response to his disheveled appearance.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine. Just stressed.” Ana scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. Enna turned to me. Her arms were crossed.

“Spill.”

“What?” I asked cluelessly. Anne added, “You and Cerea have history. What is it?,” she asked, her body language the same as her twin.

“Nothing, we just knew each other as kids.” “Uh huh.” “So that’s all?” “Yes,” I lied. Anne laughed.

“It’s almost like he thinks we don’t know that he’s lying.” “Yeah.” I looked anywhere except at the twins.

“It wasn’t anything!” I said, coming way closer to yelling than I should.

“You apologized to each other in Dragon when you saw each other.” I swore under my breath. I had forgotten Enna knew Dragon. I tended to forget she knew a lot of languages, Elven not among them in spite of her heritage.

“That was nothing.” I mumbled.

“It was not nothing. I saw Ana’s expression when she saw Cerea. She looked like her best friend had just come back to life.”

“She has.”

“Please. We all know you’re Ana’s best friend. If it’s not you, it’s Zane. Anyway, Ana looked like her best friend had just come back to life. But you, you looked like, I don’t even know how to describe it. You looked a lot like Anne when she got married to Jones. You looked like you were in love.”

“No-o. Not in love with her. Dated her once, sure, maybe we kissed a couple times, but I’m not in love with her,” I protested, turning redder than Faith’s hair, which was very, very red. “Dash, either I tell them or you do.” Threatened Ana, switching into rapid Demonic. Demonic was the one language we both knew that the twins didn’t speak.

“Can we not do this now?!” I replied, in the same language.

“What, you don’t want all our friends to know that you and Cerea were etinye aka?” She asked, using an Elven word.

“No, I would prefer not. And I really think that Cerea wouldn’t either.” “You’d be surprised. She’s changed a lot in 300 years.”

“And how would you know? You’ve seen her about as much as I have.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking. “I knew she was alive.”

--------End Chapter 1---------

If you've read this far THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - Easter Sunday Egg Hunt

April 20, 1923

“Happy Easter!”

Pleasantries were exchanged along with hugs and handshakes as the Besson’s stepped inside the front foyer of the Seavey’s house, all four of them dressed in their Sunday best. They had met back up after morning church service in town for brunch and festivities.

“Look at my pretty dress!” Frances beamed up at Elizabeth as Corbyn took his daughter’s jacket from her shoulders.

“I know! I saw at church! You look beautiful!” Elizabeth smiled sweetly at the seven-year-old.

The second Richard had his jacket taken from him, he beelined it right into the parlour around the corner where Charlie met him halfway and the boys crashed into each other in a giggling embrace.

“Are we all ready to hunt for eggs?” Elizabeth asked as the group of them came inside.

The three children cheered excitedly, each handed little wicker baskets by their parents. Daniel came downstairs with two-year-old Evelyn on his hip, her blonde hair in little ringlets and her pink dress puffed up around her sweetly. She was a little young to hunt for eggs all on her own but she still accepted the basket from her mother and when Daniel set her own, she patted over quickly to her brother.

“My gosh, the basket is almost as big as her.” Corbyn laughed lightly as Evelyn dragged the long handled wicker basket behind her messily.

The two families headed out in the backyard where the eggs had been hidden for the children to find.

“There are twelve eggs all together.” Elizabeth called as the children jumped off the back porch.

Frances, as the oldest, was determined to do it all herself as she crouched down to shuffle through the garden, ending up getting the hem of her new dress a little muddy in the process but she pulled the white egg from the bush and held it up towards the parents on the porch, “Daddy, I found one!”

Corbyn couldn’t hide his grin, “Good work, Frankie girl! Keep going!”

Frances beamed with pride and set the egg gently in her basket before hurrying to find another.

The boys, both at five-years-old and in almost matching button-ups with suspenders, were working together to find the eggs around the yard. They found one behind the shed and one under the porch and even one on the seat of Charlie’s little bike. They split their findings equally between each basket. And when they found an egg with a crack in it…well that was the best thing since ever.

“Look! Look what we found!” Charlie went running up to the porch, Richie right behind him, and he held up the egg with the crack in it to his parents. “This one is broken!”

“Not broken, just a little cracked. Be extra gentle with that one.” Elizabeth said.

“Be extra gentle, Richie.” Charlie said quietly to his friend who held out his basket in two hands.

Charlie moved ever so slowly to set the cracked egg in the little layer of hay at the bottom of the basket and Richie patted the egg softly with his little hand.

“Okay, let’s go!” Charlie shouted and the boys took off running across the yard again, the egg certainly bouncing around in the basket in the process.

The oldest three were working hard to find all the eggs and Evelyn tried to copy them at first, mostly following behind Frances because her brother was far too fast for her little toddler legs. But Frances was a little bossy and wouldn’t share any of her eggs that she found all by herself so Evelyn got bored. She ended up sitting in the middle of the lawn with her pale pink dress puffed up around her and proceeded to take fistfuls of grass into her mouth. Unbothered by the world.

“Alright.” Daniel chuckled lightly, descending the porch steps to rescue his daughter and he lifted her up onto her feet, gently prying the sticky grass from her tiny fist. “No more of that, buttercup.”

He took her hand in his and her basket in his other and led her across the yard to one of the spots where he and Elizabeth had hidden an egg early that morning. Evelyn’s little squeal when she saw it made him grin and he gently pulled the tulips to the side so she couch reach in with her little hands and pick it up. Daniel held out her basket and she dropped it in before leaning over it to make sure it was really truly in there.

“All done.” Evelyn said sweetly.

“All done?” Daniel asked.

“Uppy, Dada.” Evelyn reached her arms up to him and he leaned down to scoop her up again.

“Frankie!” Richie shouted as the boys torpedoed past Daniel to the other side of the yard, “How many do you got?”

Frances looked in her basket to count, and then boastfully to her brother, “Three.”

“Charlie and me got seven.” Richie beamed.

Frances’ face fell, “Well…you’re working together. That’s not fair. It doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does!” Charlie argued.

“And we’re gonna find the last one before you!” Richie finished and the boys ran off again.

Frances was determined to at least get the last egg. She couldn’t lose to a pair of five-year-olds. But she didn’t have to look for long because the boys had worked together to reach onto the windowsill and grab the last egg that was tucked in the corner.

“We did it!” they cheered at the same time.

“You cheated!” Frances shouted across the yard, stomping angrily towards them.

“Frances Mae.” Corbyn called warningly.

His tone had her stopping right in her tracks and looking over at her father with a pout.

The boys only giggled and rushed up onto the porch to show their parents all eight eggs they found together. Frances only frowned, trudging up the steps to hide her disappointment and envy over the little boys into her father’s side.

Daniel carried Evelyn over, the toddler very pleased with her one egg and she held it daintily in her little hands the whole way across the yard. Having it in the basket wasn’t good enough.

“Mama!” Evelyn squealed, holding out the egg to Elizabeth as they reached the porch. The egg dropped from her little hands and splatted right on Charlie’s head beneath her until yolk dripped down from his hair.

Everyone stared in stunned silence for a moment before Richie let out a little giggle and Charlie copied and then everyone was laughing.

Elizabeth wiped the egg from her son’s cheek, “Guess I should have boiled them first, hm.”

[orikeepitasecret]

Fiddauthor ❝I love you, I love you, I love you!❞ but make it angst.

Y’all keep asking for angst and I have no clue if I’m writing it. Anyway, have this 3,271 word monstrosity. 

Prompt from here. Requests are open!

Read it on AO3

“I love you.” Ford whispers one night, when he and Fidds had drunk far too much. Fidds is sprawled across his lap. He was pretty sure Fiddleford was asleep, the only reason he said it, but there’s hands around his neck, lips crashing against his own, and it leaves Ford breathless.

“I love you too.” Fiddleford murmurs once he pulls away and promptly falls asleep for real.

~*~

“I love you.” Ford whispers, watching Fidds’s rusty old truck start and pull away from Backupsmore University for the last time, taking Fidds away to his future and far away from Ford. They had already decided to go their separate ways as just friends. Ford wonders for a second if he should of foughten to keep Fiddleford a more permanent fixture in his life. The way Fidds’s face had fallen for just a second made him think, now, that he should have. It was too late though. Fiddleford was on his way home to Tennessee and Ford was crossing the country to study anomalies in Oregon. He slips into his own car and turns out of the parking lot he considers following Fidds, but he swallows back his tears and turns right. Ad astra per aspera! He thinks but it feels hollow. 15 minutes later, he has to pull over to cry.

~*~

But I love you, Ford thinks as he holds Fiddleford’s wedding invitation in his hands. There’s a note asking to call him when he receives so he does.

“Ford! It’s so good to hear from you! It’s been to long!” Fidds says brightly when he answers and has been. Ford thinks that the last time they talked had been both left Backupsmore.

“Indeed,” Ford says. “What did you need to talk to me about, buddy? You said it was urgent.”

“Oh, right to the point as ever, Stanford.” Fidds replies and Ford wonders if Fidds is dying as much as he is. “Well then, I was hoping you would be my best man! Say you will, Ford, please?”

“I would be honored, Fiddleford.” Ford says and scrubs away the tears trickling his face. Fiddleford keeps him on the line until there’s a crash in the kitchen and Ford begs off to investigate (it’s those damn gnomes again). Fiddleford wrangles a promise out of him to keep in better touch. He doubts he’ll keep it.

~*~

I still love you Ford thinks as he stands beside Fiddleford and watches Emma Mae walk down the aisle. It’s been burning the back of his throat since he arrived, but his time with Fiddleford had passed and if Fiddleford even wanted to hear him say it he hadn’t given Ford any inclination. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

“You couldn’t ask for a better person to spend your life.” Ford tells Emma Mae in his speech. And it’s true. Fiddleford smiles at him, that special smile that even now is just his and it says I love you too.

~*~

“His name’s Tater Cerium.” Fiddleford tells him proudly and Ford carefully accepts the sleeping baby from him.

“Oh.” Ford murmurs. He had once offhandedly told Fiddleford that Cerium was his favorite element. Fiddleford looks mighty pleased with himself when Ford looks at him with recognition and tears in his eyes. He glances away, down to the baby in his arms. The one that Fidds had named after his favorite element.

“We were hoping you would be his godfather.” Emma Mae says and Ford has to scrub the tears off his face.

“I would be delighted.” Ford says after a long pause. The McGuckets both smile and Ford bounces the baby in his arms, just like he used to bounce Sherman’s baby.

“I love you.” He whispers to Tater, tells him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And he is.

~*~

He comes back from the store (from the next town over that was larger) with Fiddleford’s banjo strings and microchips, and other necessary provisions, only to find that Fidds had set about cleaning up his house. Fidds grins when he sees him.

“Yer back earlier than I was expectin’, Stanford.” Fiddleford tells him, his eyes gleaming.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Ford tells him and places the grocery bags he’s carrying on the newly clean counters, suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to clean up before his friend arrived.

“I wanted to.” Fidds tells him and smiles Ford’s smile and any embarrassment Ford feels melts away. He heads back outside to collect the rest of his groceries thinking I love you, I love you, I love you.

It’s nice to be sharing a living space with somebody again, especially when that person is Fiddleford.

~*~

“Why not publish now? Settle down somewhere with a nice girl and start a family?” Fidds asks, his eyes still trained on the stars. Ford doesn’t respond, not until Fiddleford turns and looks at him.

“You were the only one for me, Fidds.” Ford whispers, and he knows Fiddleford heard him. He clears his throat. “Besides, once Gravity Falls becomes mainstream knowledge surely a bunch of other scientists will move out here and one of them could discover the Unifying Theory of Weirdness instead of me and all my work will have been for nothing.”

They’re quiet for a long while, like they used to be in college while talking about plans for the future. Plans that had more thoroughly included them together.

“F, if I had asked you to go with me, would you have?” Ford finally asks. It’s a question that has been nagging at him for years. He hopes Fidds will say “no”, so he can have some closure and move on, even if he’ll never love romantically again. But Fiddleford doesn’t say no. He doesn't say yes either but they both know that's what his answer is. Ford's heart breaks all over again. Fiddleford had wanted him to ask him to come and he had been to much of a coward to make the request. It was far too late now, far, far to late.

“Oh Stanford…” Fiddleford whispers and pulls Ford into a tight hug. Ford doesn’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

~*~

“I love you.” Ford whispers and presses his forehead against the door. He knows it doesn’t matter, that once again it’s too little, too late, and F is gone again. This time for good. The one good thing that's come out of Stan ruining his project and Ford had ruined it himself.

He pushes the door open. The room’s barren, without all of Fiddleford’s pet projects and knick knacks. He collapses on the bed, that’s been carefully made up, as if Fiddleford would be here any minute to go to sleep but he won’t be. Ford curls against Fidds’s pillow and cries. He hadn’t felt so alone since the night Stanley had been kicked out. It’s only the knowledge that he survived Stanley’s betrayal that allows him to survive Fidds’s abandonment. Still, he doesn’t do anything but mope for three days and only stops because he’s too hungry to lie in bed anymore. It’s another two weeks before he returns to the portal, but only after Fidds’s room is converted back into a thinking parlor.  The thought crosses his mind, when he returns to work, if this was how Stanley felt when Ford refused to help him. The thought crushes him. He doesn't get any proper work done that day, but Bill does.

~*~

Fiddleford was right, Ford thinks and thinks and thinks. It’s the only thing he thinks curled up in the bed of the bunker. He can’t remember the reason he came back here, not after seeing Fiddleford’s abandoned laptop and lab coat. They hadn’t come back her after Shif- Experiment #210 had attacked Fiddleford. He clears the dust off the laptop and opens it. An eight letter password, huh? He takes a couple guesses and is surprised to find the password is Stanford. Of course F had always been the sentimental sort and Ford was his first love.

He takes a deep breath and starts to plan. Maybe he can make up with Fidds, convince him to quit this Society of the Blind Eye stuff, once he’s defeated Bill. For now, the future of the world is more important than Fiddleford, even if he was the love of his life.

~*~

Ford gets up from where he landed after coming up on the other side of the portal. He’s not sure he didn’t pass out when he hit, though no time feels like it passed. He turns desperately hoping that the Portal will still be there, still be open so he can find a way to go back through and return home. Clean up the mess he and Stan just made.

It’s not there.

“No…”Ford whispers horrified.

“Stanley?”

There’s no answer.

“Fiddleford?”

There’s still no answer, not that Ford should expect one.

He’s not aware that he’s screaming, begging for Fiddleford or Stanley or anyone to come for him, until he senses the eyes, thousands and thousands of eyes boring into him. Is this what Fiddleford had experienced when he briefly went through? Ford shivers and runs.

~*~

Ford had a ritual at this point for when he was preparing to sleep, one that wasn’t dissimilar to the one he had in his home dimension. He carefully pulled two pictures out of his wearing wallet. One was of him and Fiddleford from college. They were both leaning against Ford’s bed, with Ford almost in Fidds’s lap and F kissing his cheek. It was one of Ford’s favorite pictures that they had taken together and he was glad he had slipped it in his wallet before Stan arrived. The second was an already aging photo of Stan and him on the Stan o’ War. The same one he had been carrying since college.

“I love you.” Ford would whisper and tuck them back away in his wallet. Those two were what gave him the strength to keep going, even though he doubted he would ever see you again.

~*~

Ford feels awful, feels like he's dying. He probably is, considering the amount of blood. He wonders vaguely if it wouldn't be for the best. The thought fizzles out quickly. If he dies here, he'll never stop Bill, never go home, or see Lee and Fidds again. That gives him new strength and slowly pulls himself to at least try to survive this.

~*~

“I don’t wanna go.” Ford admits softly. The Fiddleford of this dimension, the one that belongs in this better world unlike Ford, tusks softly and pulls Ford into a tight hug. It’s such a Fiddleford move, and Ford feels a familiar swell of affection for the man rise up his chest.

“I love you.” He murmurs against his shoulder. And it’s true: he loves him because he loves every Fiddleford that he’s encountered, for their own merits and because they reminded him so much of his own lost love.

“Did you ever tell him that?” This Fiddleford asks. Ford nods against his shoulder. Fidds sighs.

“Wasn’t the best at showing it though…” Ford sobs. Fidds squeezes him and holds him until the tears stop.

“Well go defeat Bill and then go home. Make it up to him. If he’s as much like me as you think he is… he’ll forgive you. I promise.” Fiddleford tells him. Ford grabs onto his words and clings to them. Fiddleford thinks he can defeat Bill and live. Defeat Bill and return home to Fiddleford who might possibly, insanely still love him enough to give him the second chance. Ford smiles faintly at the thought and musters the gun this Fiddleford had helped him construct, that if they’re right will be able to end Bill Cipher once and for all.

He doesn’t look back as he steps through the portal. For the first time in a long time, he’s looked ahead.

~*~

“Stanley, do you know what became of my research assistant? His name is Fiddleford McGucket.” Ford asks evenly, one evening over dinner. Stan and his nibilings exchange looks.

“No.” Stan tells him and even after forty years, his tell when lying to Ford is the same. It might have been slightly amusing if it hadn’t been so vexing.

“Stanley, I have a right to know.” Ford says in a raised voice, the I know you know hangs heavy in the air without him saying it.

“He doesn’t want anything to do with you.” Stan retorts, finally. “I would know.”

Ford’s face falls despite attempts to school it and he quickly excuses himself from the table. If Fiddleford doesn’t want anything to do with him, he’ll respect that for now. He waited thirty years what was a another couple of months. Surely it couldn’t take too long to at least dispose of the rift the Portal created? Bill himself might take more time but he could be excused for wanting to apologize to Fidds after the immediate threat is handled right?

~*~

Ford’s startled awake night to find Mable sitting on the couch by his feet.

“Are you awake, Grunkle Ford?” She whispers.

“Yes, dear.” Ford replies and sits up. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Well, kind of? It’s about Mr. McGucket.” Mable replies.

Ford sits up and flicks on the nearby lamp. He slips on his glasses and stares at his great niece expectedly.

“I think he doesn’t remember you. He founded this crazy cult that erased people’s memories when they saw weird things around here and he was using it on himself. He used it so much he couldn’t remember anything before 1982.” Mable says in a hushed voice, glancing anxiously over her shoulder occasionally.

“I see.” Ford says,

“He’s getting better! Dipper thought he might have been the Author! So we helped him get his memories back and he’s remembering more things! I don’t know if he remembers you yet though…” Mable says.

“Well that’s…  good. It was very nice of your brother and you to help him. Thank you.”

“You really care about him, huh, Grunkle Ford?”

“Yes, he was…” my ex-boyfriend that I am still deeply in love with, even after all this time “my best friend until we had our falling out. I want to make amends with him, or at very least apologize.”

“Well… he lives at the dump right now, if you ever wanna try and slip out to visit him.” Mable tells him. There’s a creek and a muffled groan from somewhere in the house that indicates that Stan is awake for some reason. “I have to go. Don’t tell Grunkle Stan or Dipper I told you, please? They didn’t want you to know.”

Without waiting for a reply, Mable scurries off, carrying a cup of water. Ford sighs as he watches her go and flicks off the lamp, leaving himself surrounded by the dark.

“Oh, Fiddleford…” He whispers. He doesn’t get back to sleep that night.

~*~

Stan seems to know that Ford knows about McGucket now and seems intent on keeping him from “visiting”, and no matter when Ford tries to leave or his best intentions to not allow Stan to draw him into a fight, he never manages to leave.

“Why is it so important that you go see him now? Weren’t you just spouting off about how dangerous it is to leave the Shack because of this Bill guy?” Stan asks when he catches Ford trying to leave his own house at two a’clock in the morning.

“I-” I love him is on the tip of his tongue, but Ford can’t bring himself to say it. He is unsure of how much time has changed here in the last  three decades or how Stan would react.

“I hurt Fiddleford a lot with my actions thirty years ago. I want him to at least now I regret it.”

Stan looks heartbroken for just a millisecond, but before Ford can try to process it, it’s gone, replaced by the quiet rage Stanley leverages against him when he doesn’t want the kids to know they’re fighting again. Ford doesn’t make it out of the house that night, and he doesn’t attempt going to see Fiddleford again.

~*~

“Fiddleford… I--I haven't seen you since we parted ways. You must hate me.” Ford murmurs to his friend once he finally sees him again. It’s hard to believe that this is his Fiddleford, even when he knew he’d been living out of the dump.

Fiddleford shakes his head and smiles, smiles that brilliant smile and Ford feels himself falling head over heels all over again. “I've tried forgettin'. Maybe I should try forgiving. Come here, old friend.”

Fiddleford pulls Ford into a tight hug. Ford can’t remember the last time he and Fiddleford had hugged (maybe upon his arrival in Gravity Falls?) or how good it felt. Tears sprung to his eyes and squeezed Fidds. The moment’s perfect, even if it takes place in Bill’s castle at the end of the world.

“Hey, good to see you too, bro. Now let's get outta here, huh?” Stan interrupts and the moment’s over.

~*~

Watching Fiddleford and the others is the most horrific thing he has ever seen. That’s his Fiddleford Bill’s hurting and it’s all Ford’s fault. In less than an hour, it shifted down to second. Nothing will ever haunt him as much as erasing Stan’s mind.

~*~

“I’m going up to the Arctic to investigate some anomalous reading I’ve been getting.” Ford tells his old friend. The “Come with me” doesn’t cross his lips. Not because he doesn’t want to ask, but him and Fiddleford needed time to recover from the last 30 years, from the things Ford had caused. And even if Fiddleford had any interest in studying anomalies, almost thirty of being homeless hadn’t been good for his health and it would be irresponsible to drag F into the Arctic. Fiddleford studied him from a long moment and set his glass of sweet down on his side table.

“You should ask Stanley to go with you.” Fidds says evenly.

“I will.” Ford promises.

“Good.”

Fiddleford doesn’t pick up his sweet tea again. Instead he gets up and collects his banjo from the other side of the room. Ford is breath taken to realize that it was the same one he had given him for their first anniversary so many years ago.

Fiddleford plays for hours and Ford watches silently, breath taken. Finally, long after the sun’s gone down, Tate troops into the room and tells Fiddleford he ought to go to bed.

“I’ll miss you.” Fiddleford says, in the same tone of voice he had used when they had parted ways at Backupsmore, at the door.

“I know. I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be back next summer.” Ford promises. F still seems upset, and without thinking, Ford leans down to kiss his cheek. He flushes before the actions even over and fleas through the door.

“Next summer, Stanford!” Fidds yells after him.

~*~

They of course see each other quite a few times again before Ford and Stan leave, but the promise shifted into something more with the kiss. It was a promise to try again, next summer.

~*~

Ford had barely made his way back onto solid ground before somebody had flung themselves onto him. Stan had to steady him to keep him from falling, but it was worth it.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Fiddleford whispers to him.

“I love you too.” Ford replies and it is one of the best moments of his life, especially when Stan and his nibilings join their hug.