#he said he’d been to one of our other stores this morning so I mentioned it to my mate who was working

[rowanhoney]

you know when you meet someone in passing who’s just SO attractive you don’t stop thinking about it. Yeah.

[suuuupernovaaa]

The Book Seller - Azriel x f!OC (Part 3/3)

Summary: Azriel’s mate decides whether she wants to accept the mating bond, or if it’s all too much.

Content Warning: Adult, 18+, mentions of death and trauma, sexual content

Part 1, Part 2

The next day, Azriel came and fixed the door to my apartment. While he was there, he noticed a few cabinets askew, and fixed those as well.

Afterwards, we made our way down to sit outside the storefront and enjoy lunch by the river, and he noticed a wiggling floorboard, and a crooked bookshelf.

He fixed those, as well.

My heart swelled to watch him pouring energy into the small bookshop that had been my life for so long. It felt quite right, to see him wipe sweat from his brow as he aligned the book shelf just so, and the satisfied smile that crossed his face was enough to make my heart stop when he turned to me.

I laid awake all the previous night, thinking of the bits of information he’d shared with me. His childhood and the pain he’d endured. The way he found his brothers, Cassian and Rhysand. All the wars and trials they’d been through since then. The killing and the torture. The way the peaceful times we were living in now felt like a dream to him.

It had been hard to part ways with just a chaste kiss to his cheek, but I wasn’t sure how fast or slow we were going to move. Some mates took their time, and some took no time at all. I knew at least that he’d be back the next day, to fix the door and so much more.

I set a tray of food in front of us as we sat down to enjoy one of the last warm days we’d see for a while. The food was ordered from a cafe around the corner, as I knew the significance of preparing a meal for the man before me. Preparing and offering a meal was a sign of accepting the bond.

“Thank you for fixing all of that. My brother, I’ve asked him so many times, but he has a little one at home and not much time to help.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “You can ask me now,” he said, and a fist squeezed around my heart.

“It’s a little funny that…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Go on,” he said, setting his food down.

“We don’t really know each other, do we? We met last night but it feels, almost, like I could rely on you. If I decided to.”

The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile, and that was his only response.

—

Azriel stopped by every day over the next week. Sometimes when the store was open, just to quickly say hi, and twice after to take a walk along the chilly river and talk, hands or arms clasped together. His company was becoming easy, comforting, and I was growing accustomed to him so quickly.

I wondered, was it because we were mates, or would we have found ourselves drawn to each other otherwise?

Despite the ease and excitement, something loomed over me. Azriel was not a normal fae, not a carpenter or a tradesman, not someone I met down the street or at a bar. He was the Shadowsinger, at the hand of our High Lord, and there were parts of his life I was not sure I would ever be privy to. Would that be a true partnership, if part of himself was kept hidden away?

If our era of peace ended, he’d have to put himself in danger. What did being a Shadowsinger truly entail? Would his duties take him away from time to time?We never talked about it, because I didn’t ask.

I was too afraid to. What if he told me he couldn’t share that? What if he told me something I didn’t want to hear? What if he thought it was too soon for me to ask?

When he stopped in the following Saturday, early in the morning with a tea in hand for me, my father was in the shop.

My family joined for dinner together every Wednesday night at my parents house, and my eldest sister had been quick to announce I’d met my mate this past family dinner.

Though they had all insisted on meeting him, I’d not yet broached the topic with Azriel. My family was loud, boisterous, always in each other’s business, and fiercely loving but sometimes overwhelming. Azriel was quiet, and I was nervous that he wouldn’t appreciate them.

My father, a tall man but still a dwarf compared to the Shadowsinger, did not balk when Azriel entered and strode to my desk, handing me the tea.

“Good morning. I came to tell you -“

“Is this him?” father interrupted, and I chided him with a tisk.

“Father!” I hissed, and Azriel straightened. It occurred to me then that truly, Azriel was older than my parents, but fatherhood had made my father mature in a way that only being a parent can, and he looked at Azriel through those eyes.

The tension grew in the air quickly as the two men stared at each other until my father, who had never been described as intimidating a day in his life, grabbed Azriel’s hand in his and shook it violently up and down.

“Great to meet you, son,” my father said to Azriel, the High Lord’s Shadowsinger, his elder by 100 years, as if he was any other man on the street.

To his credit, Azriel returned the shake with enthusiasm, and tipped his head as a sign of respect. “You as well, sir,” he replied.

Father waved his hand to dismiss the title. “No formalities in family. Will you join us for dinner this week?”

Azriel looked to me, and I tried to communicate my apologies with my expression.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I came to tell you, Holly, I leave tonight and will be gone about a week.”

I gripped my tea in my hands as my father wisely made some mumbled excuse to leave us alone at my desk. I stood from my chair and came around to meet Azriel, perching on the edge of my desk.

“Oh. Um, work?”

He nodded.

“I wanted to ask… how much I might be allowed to know. In the future.”

His face grew dark and serious. “I would tell you anything you want to know, though some of it you may not want to hear. It is not always pleasant, extracting secrets.”

I nodded gravely. “Oh. Right.”

“Which brings me to another point… being my mate, it could land you in trouble. One day. Soon or in the distant future. I’d feel better if you could defend yourself.”

“Fight?” I asked, glancing around at the book store to make sure no one was listening.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to, but I would feel more at ease if I knew you could defend yourself. If need be.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of - the danger that came with the man in front of me. It only took a week to bubble to the surface.

“Cassian and Nesta have offered to train you.”

“Why not you?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “Just this week, while I’m gone. I’ll join once I return. I thought you’d be more comfortable, with Nesta there.”

Nervous, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He held mine fiercely.

“Will you be safe? Are you going somewhere dangerous?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to me. “No, no one will even know I’m there,” he replied quietly, and pressed his forehead to mind. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.

“Do you promise?” I whispered.

To my shock, Azriel’s lips found mine then. For the first time. Soft, warm, and all enveloping, I pressed my body flush to his and opened my mouth to allow him entry, a soft sigh escaping.

I had been waiting, every moment since we’d met, for him to kiss me. Stealing glances at his lips, kissing his cheek with every departure, it wasn’t enough.

He snaked his arms around my waist, and I held his beautifully sculpted face in my hands as his tongue explored.

Every single part of me was on fire in a way I had never imagined possible. I could feel sparks shooting from my toes and the ends of my hair. Azriel groaned quietly as he pressed me tighter to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him in place.

He tasted like mint tea and I wove my hands through his silky, dark hair, desperate for more.

Too fast, too suddenly, Azriel pulled away and smiled down at me. Only a moment later, I heard my father approaching.

He must have heard him first.

I removed my hands from his hair and smoothed it, removing any traces that I had been there, as we continued to smile at each other.

“Cassian will fetch you at 6am tomorrow, and have you back in time to open at 10,” he said, and my face fell.

“Azriel, 6am? You cannot be serious.”

He was laughing as he walked out the door.

—

The next week was grueling. Every morning, I met Cassian outside at 6am so he could prove to me how weak I truly was. I had no strength, no skill, no balance.

Nesta assured me she had been the same before Cassian had forced her to train, but it was hard to believe, watching her move with such grace and strength now.

Not only was the training draining me, but I missed Azriel. It felt strange to admit it. Two weeks ago, I had only known him by reputation. Now, a day without him was painful.

Near the end of the week, I’d asked the girls to run the shop for me for the day so I could rest, and Nesta invited me to join her for breakfast after training, just the two of us.

Sweaty and tired, I slumped at the table and asked the house for some water and tea. It appeared magically, delighting me as it had every time this past week.

“Can I ask you something a little personal?” I asked once I’d drank the entire glass of water, and Nesta nodded warily.

Though I did consider us friends, Nesta was still guarded, and I wanted to tread carefully.

“Is it hard, to be Cassian’s mate?”

She surprised me by laughing. “In what sense? He is very annoying.”

“I mean, him being who he is. The position he holds.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I don’t know if I can say. I was human before, and all I’ve known of being fae is these people, this life,” she gestured to the grand home around us, and I understood.

Her ushering into this life had been straight into grandeur. She had not lived life as a normal high fae, only royalty.

“I asked you to come here last week because I wanted you to meet Azriel. Something felt right, when I thought of you two together. I can’t explain it. I almost knew. Once the idea occurred to me, of you two together, I couldn’t shake it. It nagged at me until I brought you here.”

Though I had suspected, she hadn’t confirmed it before.

I pursed my lips and looked down at the full plated breakfast before me.

“He seems worth it, to me. Worth whatever… trouble, it could bring. To be his,” I said finally, picking up my fork. “I don’t know if I’m worthy of him.”

Nesta reached over and grabbed my arm. “You are. I would not trouble with you, if you weren’t.” She spoke plainly, stating a fact with no emotion behind it, and nodded in return.

—

I returned home early in the afternoon, greeted my employees, and headed up for a long bath and possibly a nap.

After soaking for a very long time to remove all the sweat and grime, I dressed in a simple tan dress, and pulled a book from my night stand. The bath had rejuvenated me enough to no longer need to sleep, so I sat next to the window to read.

Only ten minutes later, I closed the book, unable to focus on the words on the page. They danced around, always spelling Azriel in my mind.

A scary but not entirely unwelcome thought greeted me then: I was in love with the shadowsinger. With his soft smiles and tight expressions. His attention to detail and need to care and fix. His past and present and hopefully, his future.

I wasn’t just falling in love with him because the living bond between us brought us together, but for who he was. I would have loved him without this bond. Would have been struck by his beauty and grace. The quiet assuredness with which he moved through the world.

As I got lost deeper and deeper into my own thoughts, a knock came at the door. Probably Aurelia or Jessiminda, needing something for the store. I placed my book on the shelf before crossing my small apartment to pull open the door.

Neither girl stood there, but instead, Azriel barreled in, sweeping me into his arms in a warm embrace that I eagerly returned.

“You’re back!” I exclaimed, breathing him in. How fully I missed him really hit me then, as I held him safely in my arms. It was as if something had been wrong the last week, something missing from me, a part of my soul, and here it was, returned.

“I came back as soon as I could,” he said, his face in my hair. The unspoken part of that sentence seemed to be, to get back to you.

“How was training?” he asked as he pulled away, just a few inches to look at me, and I could not stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“I’m sore everywhere. I could not kick anyone’s ass.”

He laughed, a low chuckle. “Give it time.”

“I have been thinking… Jessaminda wants more hours, and the store is doing well. I could have her open every morning for me, so I only work afternoons.”

His smile grew. “You don’t want to train at six am.”

“Of course not. But also, it would mean more time for me.”

For us.

Through the bond, I felt a ripple of joy. Only once or twice before had I felt what I thought were Azriel’s emotions - we wouldn’t truly be able to feel each other until I accepted the bond, and we hadn’t discussed that yet.

“Good idea,” was his full reply, and I beamed at him.

“Are you hungry? I could make a stew.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you offering to cook for me? Now?”

I sauntered away from him into the kitchen, gathering the supplies I needed and lighting the stove.

“Sit, and tell me about your trip,” I instructed as I began chopping. He sat at my small dining table, looking as nervous as he was capable of after centuries of skillfully hiding his emotions, and told me of his trip. Simple fact finding and information gathering in the autumn court, where he’d also met up with some old friends. I asked questions, and he readily answered, giving me any information I wanted to know, which brought comfort to my heart.

When the stew was done, I filled two bowls, and turned to him.

“Before I give this to you, I want you to know… I think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met. If you weren’t my mate, I would still find you as handsome, as impressive, as captivating, as awe-inspiring as I do now. I don’t care that we’ve only just met or there’s so much we have to learn about each other. I’m greatly looking forward to that.”

I sat down across from him, and wondered if my family would be upset that we’d done this in private. Many fae made a ceremony of this moment, but I couldn’t imagine that was something Azriel would want, and I didn’t really either.

There was a look in his eyes that I thought might be wonder, or awe, I set the bowl and spoon down in front of Azriel, and waited.

He lifted the spoon and stared at me with such intensity that it made my stomach churn with nerves.

“I have waited 500 years for you. Had I known what I was waiting for, I would have agreed to wait 500 more.” His voice trembled with emotion, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

We were silent as he took his first bite, and finished the bowl in mere minutes. I hadn’t even touched mine, I realized, and took my first bite as he took his last.

We stared at each other then, the air charged, and I felt it. The bond strengthening, solidifying between us, and I closed my eyes and listened.

I could feel him so clearly. His pain, his joy, and drowning everything else out, how badly Azriel wanted me in that moment. How desperate he was to touch me, and the thread he was using to hold himself back until he got a signal from me.

When I opened my dark eyes, his golden eyes bore into mine, passion sparking behind them.

“Yes,” was all I said, and all he needed, to sweep the table aside and pull me into his sturdy, waiting arms.

His mouth found mine eagerly, and his hands roamed my body. I found myself beyond glad I’d had time to bathe before he arrived.

He lifted me up by the shelf of my rear, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He walked the few steps over to my bed and without breaking the kiss, lay me on my soft green bedding, kneeling between my spread legs.

“Azriel,” I moaned, and I felt how badly he wanted me as he pressed himself into me. I arched my back, searching for more friction.

He reached down, pulling at the hem of my dress slowly, pushing it up over my thighs, his fingers trailing over my stomach, and I sat up so he could pull it over my head.

I made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, revealing his broad golden chest and firm abs.

“Gods,” I hissed as he tossed the shirt across the room. This sculpted angel before me was enough to send me into a spiral. He pushed me back onto the bed, and looked down at me as something to devour.

“I need to taste you,” he said, his voice all breath and gravel, and I nodded eagerly.

He started at my neck with lazy, languid kisses, running his warm tongue over my skin, and then down. Over my chest, he stopped to take my nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking gently. I arched my back, pressing myself into his mouth, and we groaned together.

Down, further down he went, trailing his tongue over my naval until he reached the apex of my thighs, and did not waste any time teasing me.

He pulled my sensitive bud between his lips and sucked. I was so swollen, so sensitive, and so desperate for him. I moaned his name and put my hands into his hair, guiding him as he truly devoured me. He slowed and sped, and stuck his tongue deep inside me, causing another loud moan to escape my chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and I nearly came at the sound of it.

“I need you,” I replied.

“Need me where, baby?”

“Inside me. Please. Now,” I panted.

He stood up slowly, torturing me, and removed the buckle from his pants, and slid them down over taught, muscular thighs.

The bulge in his underwear was obscenely large, and I wondered how on earth it was going to fit. He removed his underwear and sprang free, and my mouth watered.

He was on top of me once more, his fingers dragging through my wet folds, circling my clit, as I moaned into his mouth.

I spread my legs as wide as they would go, and reached down to grip his considerable length, and place it at my entrance.

“Please,” I breathed, and my mate’s eyes met mine. I felt him, his love and his admiration and his lust, surging through the bond. “Azriel.”

“Holly,” he whispered, reverently, worshipping my name as he worshipped my body, and slid slowly inside me.

“Gods!” I exclaimed, and dug my nails into his back.

He groaned, stopping to allow me to adjust to his size. “Good girl. You can take it all. Be a good girl for me,” he whispered in my ear.

When he was finally fully seated in me, to the hilt, he stilled again. I felt impossibly full but gods, so good, and I wiggled, encouraging him to move.

He chuckled and placed a rough kiss on my mouth before beginning to move. Slowly, carefully at first.

“More. I won’t break.”

He moaned again then, a sweet sound in my ears, and picked up the pace, sliding in and out of me faster and faster until he reached a punishing pace, and I was making noises in his ear I’d never made before.

“Come for me, mate,” he demanded in my ear, and I came apart around him with a blinding scream, clamping my legs around his waist and scratching my nails down his bag.

He groaned a moment later, finding his release, and collapsed on top of me.

I was thoroughly devoured.

—

We stayed in my apartment for four days together, learning and exploring each other, and I had never felt so blissfully happy.

Or so sore.

The frenzy. I’d heard of it before. It was a dangerous time for newly fated males, but Azriel and I stayed locked up together for the worst of it.

When we were not actively learning each other, we talked, or ate, or slept, or read together. I thought life like this forever might be okay, but of course, it couldn’t last.

On the fifth day, Azriel recommended we might emerge and let our friends and family know we had affirmed the bond, as if they didn’t know. I had sent word to my employees to run the store without me, to my family that I’d miss dinner, and I knew he’d sent word to his family too.

I had not known they’d planned a party, or else I would have insisted we stay locked away for much longer.

As we left through my apartment window, I already wished we were back inside, Azriel inside me and all around me, where nothing and no one else existed.

Sadly, we had responsibilities outside, and decisions to make.

Like where we would live. The thought of Azriel residing with me in my small apartment was cozy, but laughable. He spent most of his time at the House of Wind, but also had a room in the High Lord’s newest home, and his townhome central to the city.

I had suggested it might be nice to have a place all our own. Near the water, and my store, somewhere just for us.

Azriel had liked the idea so well, he’d taken me against the window as we looked out at the city, planning.

We arrived at the House of Wind as the sun was setting, entering through a door in the courtyard that I’d not yet seen. Azriel led me to his room, dark and quiet and without decoration, and I wondered what our new home would look like.

He opened his closet and from within, drew out a golden gown, the color of his eyes. It was beautiful, floor length with a plunging neck line, long adorned sleeves, and intricate bead work throughout.

“For you,” he said, bringing it over to me. “From Feyre.”

I reached out to touch the most lovely dress I’d ever seen. “I can’t accept this.”

He shrugged. “You can,” he replied simply. Money had not yet crossed my mind - what kind of salary did a Shadowsinger draw? Surely more than a book peddler.

I turned and allowed him to remove my dress, and once I stood nearly naked before him, I leaned over the black dresser in front of me, bearing myself to him as I stepped out of my shoes.

His breath hissed between his teeth, and I smiled. I turned and placed my hands on his shoulders, stepping into the dress. He drug it up my body, and stepped around me to zip it up. It fit perfectly, making curves where I’d thought I had none. I turned to look in the mirror, pushing my hair from my face, and decided on a simple, long braid, so as not to distract from the dress.

When I finished, Azriel grabbed my hand. “I also have this for you,” he said, holding out a ring. A thin gold band adorned with one shining purple jewel. Simple, and lovely, and I wordlessly spread my fingers so he could slide it on.

Two weeks ago, I was alone. I was lonely. Time is a funny thing.

—

I expected at most, a handful of people when we entered the dining room, but as we grew closer, the chatter of a crowd was hard to miss.

I gasped when we entered. The hall was decorated beautifully, in purple and gold everywhere, flowers and tapestries and other finery as far as the eye could see.

Everyone in my family was there. My parents, all three siblings and their spouses, and their children as well, five in total.

All mixed in with Azriel’s family, Rhysand and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, Amren and Mor standing with a beautiful woman who had to be Feyre’s third sister, hanging on the arm of a stunning man with red hair.

“Oh gods!” I shouted.

“Surprise!” Cassian hollered, igniting a laugh through the small crowd.

“Aunt Holly!” my youngest nephew ran to me as I entered and continued taking in the scene, and I bent down to scoop him into my arms. Nearing five, I would soon be unable to pick him up and throw him around, and I relished in holding him when I could.

I turned to Azriel, who smiled at me with mischief in his eyes. “Did you know?”

He shrugged, confirming it. “It was Feyre’s idea.”

Well, my mate was nothing if not clever. He knew I could not be mad if it was my High Lady’s idea. She approached then, arms open to wrap me and my nephew wiggling in my arms in a tight hug.

“I don’t know how you feel about surprises, but it didn’t feel right not to celebrate a new family member.”

I tried hard, but couldn’t resist a small bow. “Thank you, My Lady.”

She tisked. “Enough of that today. Just Feyre.”

Aiken jumped from my arms and ran back to my family, and we spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking as our two families blended. The atmosphere in the room was light, joyful, and calm.

I knew it would not always be this way. There would be very hard times ahead, and times of even greater joy and celebration.

Azriel and I were just getting started. It was all so new and fresh, but I was so sure of it too. So sure of him. The mating bond flowed between us, steady and strong, and we felt when the other was ready to end the night. I saw my family off before Rhysand and Mor helped them all home, promising we’d be at every Wednesday dinner we could, and we bid Feyre and her sisters farewell.

We returned to Azriel’s room quietly, hands clasped together, and I wondered if someone could be too happy.

If it was dangerous, to be too content, so quickly. To have so much change come into your life and to be so incandescently happy with it.

Was I asking for something terrible? Was I inviting in chaos and danger, simply by being overjoyed?

If so, I would not have changed a thing. Would not have chosen another mate, another family, another life for all the coin on the continent.

Azriel wrapped me in his arms as we fell asleep a while later, and I listened to his heartbeat in his chest, counting them.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

A beautiful sound. The sound of my mate, alive and well.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked, sensing my overwhelming emotions down the bond.

“That I love you,” I replied quietly, eyes still closed, heart beating wildly.

I heard his speed up, too.

A confusing mix of emotions came through the bond. Pain, longing, fear, lust, but there under all of that, there was love.

“I don’t deserve you. You are good and pure. You are kind. Faultless.” His gravely voice was strained, and I propped myself up to see his golden eyes shining.

“You deserve every happiness in the world, and I will see to it that you have them, my mate.”

He leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

“I love you, too,” he said, and shouted it down the bond as well.

We fell asleep intertwined in his dark sheets, only love enveloping us.

The book seller and the shadowsinger.

@rcarbo1

[wreckmetoji]

Angel Eyes, Cold Heart

A fic in which your local priest face the music after sleeping with your local priest

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/M!Reader

content warning. amab reader, profanity, so much religion, religious guilt, alcoholism(mild), smoking, blood, angst, mentions of sex

This is a purely self-indulgent fic. Please note that even though this is a reader insert, this isn’t my usual vague reader insert. This reader is heavily based off of me and my own experiences. If the idea of any of these content warnings make you uncomfortable or are off putting, I suggest checking out a different fic. Smut will be in Pt. 2

minors DNI

A continuation of Reach Out and Touch Faith. Part 1/2

6.5k words

"Jesus Appears to Two Disciples at Emmaus. Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking with each other about all these things that had occurred."

Hands clasped together, fingers interlocked and balled hands held in front of your mouth, you stared with furrowed brows as the priest stood at his pulpit, reading from his bible in a low, calm tone. Really, you should have been more conscientious of your outwardly uncomfortable demeanor, but you were far too tied up in the movement of his lips, the sway of his hand, the peek of his canines when he smiled a particular way, to care about your outward appearance. Taking a deep breath, you leaned forwards, elbows resting on your knees as you hung your head in a more than conspicuous manner, interlaced fists pressed firmly to the line of your mouth.

"And what is more, this is the third day since all of this took place.Some women from our group have now given us astounding news. They went to the tomb early this morning,but they failed to find his body. When they returned, they told us that they had seen a vision of angels who reported that he was alive."

It had been two and a half weeks since your... tryst, with Priest Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't avoiding him after the fact. Much to your surprise, he'd been quite tender after your romp, leading you to believe there might potentially be something more in store for you. The following Sunday proved you wrong, he was no more or less friendly, but upon trying to talk to him privately, he simply removed your hand from his shoulder and gave you that disingenuous smile, stating he needed to tend to other matters. It was a hard pill to swallow, but you tried to let it roll off your back, he's a priest, what did you expect?

Having to face the repercussions of your reckless actions wasn't exactly your style, much preferring to turn tail and run than look your mistakes in the face. And what a glorious fucking blunder this one was, truly taking the cake for poor decisions you had consciously made in your many years of living. You felt a hand on your upper back, no doubt belonging to your more than clueless mother. You hoped she couldn't feel how damp your skin was underneath your button-down due to nerves. Surely she just thought you were so moved by the specific citations priest Wolfwood had chosen the past two Sundays. She didn't seem to question your inability to make it to your regularly scheduled after-work confessions, using the guise of picking up extra hours to help out your coworkers. Realistically, that time was spent at the local dive with your face in one hand, drinks carelessly nursed in the other. You couldn't tell her that though, she might beat you for it.

"They set out immediately and returned to Jerusalem, where they found gathered together the Eleven and their companions who were saying, 'The Lord has truly been raised, and he has appeared to Simon!'Then the two described what had happened on their journey and how he had made himself known to them in the breaking of the bread."

 Turning your wrist, the face of your watch lit up, showing you the time. Relief washed over you, hands shaking as your mother muttered something about you being too eager to leave so suddenly. Taking another deep breath, you whispered a disingenuous apology, eyes glancing up through your lashes to the priest stepping away from his pulpit. Much to your dismay, he seemed to already have been watching you, catching your gaze only briefly. Eyes shooting back down to your feet, you felt your ears heat up, wondering how many sins you must have committed in your previous life to be subjected to this fate. 

 "Luke 24 is one of the most beloved accounts of the resurrection of Jesus," His voice was getting a louder, low chatter being had through the rows of pews, "It also relates the broken bread in communion to the way God works in our lives."

 Gaze staying fixated on the floor, you clenched your hands over your knees, knuckles turning a lighter shade of white with every clack of shoes against the floor getting closer and closer. The words he was speaking didn't even register to you anymore, not with every nerve on end, not with how much of a visceral effort it was to not vomit right there and then. Your stomach churned when you saw the peek of poorly polished, scuffed shoes in the corner of your vision, followed by hushed silence in the room. You didn't want to look up to see Wolfwood, you didn't want to look up to see every eye on you, you didn't want to face the music and realize you had to act like you were fine being the center of attention in a room full of people. Daring a glance up, you saw his furrowed brows, eyes looking into you just a little too deeply for your liking. Your fight or flight kicked in, pushing yourself up from your seat and past the man blocking the exit of your row.

 Your mom reached out for you, whispering out a very clearly concerned, "Honey-" 

 "Gonna puke," Is all you said, perhaps a bit too loud, as you rushed down the aisle and pushed through the massive double doors. 

 After you managed to scurry down the church steps, not without tripping over yourself once or twice on the way, you walked across the parking lot, running your hands through your hair nervously, exhaling a deep sigh. Patting down your pant pockets, you pulled out a nearly empty carton of cigarettes, shaking one loose and placing it between your lips. You fumbled with the lighter, sparking it once, twice, three times, before losing your composure and letting out a frustrated shout, overhanding the piece of colorful plastic across the gravel park with all your frustrated might.

 "Fuck!" You shouted again, snatching the cigarette from your mouth and turning on your heel to make your way to the car, nearly bumping into the broad figure that once again blocked your path. 

 "Didn't know you smoked," Wolfwood remarked, lips formed into a firm line. Clearly he wasn't amused. "Need a light?"

 "I don't." A bold faced lie, considering he had caught you in the act. "And no, I'm fine, Father. Thanks."

 Once again pushing to get around him, this time a hand on your exposed forearm held you in place. Glancing back when he called your name, you couldn't hide the distress on your face, refusing to look up at his eyes. He said something, something that you didn't hear, something you're sure was impertinent to your current stressors and life problems, so instead of listening you yanked your arm away, running your hands through your hair again to smooth it out. 

 "I'll see you next Sunday, Father." 

 Not giving him another chance, you walked off, deciding that waiting out the rest of church in a café for your mom to finish or cabbing home would be better than being near him for another second. You were scared about what he was going to say, what he was going to do, sure it would ruin both of your reputations, but you'd be damned if you stuck around to see what would come of it. Sure, he had run you a shower, sure, he had cooked dinner- shockingly well, but that's besides the point-, and sure, he had treated you with more respect and aftercare than most of your regrettable flings, but he was a priest and obviously that lead to some kind of guilt, or regret, or something. That completely negates any and all feelings that might have bloomed in the pit of your stomach thinking about what could potentially come out of that relationship, because there was no relationship. He was probably just doing it all to shut you up so you didn't blab, or maybe he had worse ulterior motives. He seemed sleazy, maybe he was just trying to get dirt so he could blackmail you.

 But if that were the case, wouldn't have your confessions been enough ammo for him?

 Sulking over your cup of coffee you had absentmindedly ordered, and admittedly didn't even want, you leaned back in the café chair, glancing out the window and across the street at the church doors, awaiting the emergence of your fellow Sunday goers. Part of you felt bad, maybe even a little guilty, putting your mom in a situation where she most likely had to apologize on your behalf, but you knew you'd get an earful for it the second you spoke with her again. You weren't sure if steeling yourself for that talk would prevent you from getting audibly frustrated though, so to avoid an immediate fight, you cabbed home, ignoring the barrage of texts and calls from your mom, dad, and close relatives. God knows this wouldn't be the first time you've disappeared on your family, and it probably won't be the last. 

 Since this wasn't your first rodeo, you ended up leaving an hour early for work every day to avoid unexpected morning guests, coming back at ungodly hours to avoid the beater coupe you knew was inevitably to be waiting for you in the drive if you got home any time before eleven at night. What else to do but spend your time at the local dive bar, specifically the dive bar because there was no chance in Hell any of your family, or their church-happy friends would set foot in there. Sometimes you came with coworkers, sometimes with friends, sometimes by yourself. It was all the same for you anyways, a distraction, something to occupy yourself with instead of coming face to face with the glaring issue that you were a coward unable to handle the conflicts and positions you put yourself in. 

 "Really, it's not that funny!" Your friend boasted, laughter erupting from the few bodies around the table, shaking you out of your thoughts. You let out a small, forced chuckle, cheeks heating at the fact you had completely missed the topic of conversation by being far too stuck in your head and feeling bad for yourself. Maybe the exhaustion of the past week had finally caught up with you. 

 "Be right back," You announced to no one in particular, not that anyone noticed anyways, pushing back from the table and making your way out the side door. Normally you would announce a smoke break, expecting the gaggle of people to join in for nothing if not the social aspect, but you had a feeling it would suffocate you right now. 

 A ding in your pocket got your attention as you sparked up a cigarette, pulling your phone out and staring at the unregistered number in your phone. It was hard to read, blinking a couple times to focus your doubling vision. 

 [unknown]: You didn't come to church today. You okay?

 Scrunching your nose, you glance up at the bold clock on your front screen, the small "Sun" sitting underneath making you groan. Fuck, it was Sunday. And you missed church. And you haven't spoken to your mother in a week, because you had blocked her number. She was going to fucking kill you once she managed to get her hands on you. But that begged the question, who was trying to talk to you about going to church? You were more than certain no one that actually went to church was savvy enough with technology to know how to text, and the kids were too young to have phones in the first place. 

 [you]: Sorry yeah, who's this?

 Thank God for auto correct, you muttered around your cigarette, clearly too tipsy to write out a legible sentence without help. You watched the message immediately come up as read, humming as you leaned back against the brick building, waiting for their response. Those three dots bounced, and bounced some more, before they disappeared. Furrowing your brows, you went to type out another text, before a call screen popped up. It was the same number, and considering they were trying to hound you about not attending your regular Sunday Service you were apprehensive to answer. Clearly, your alcohol riddled brain was much too curious to be put off by the potential of getting into a screaming match over the phone with whatever relative decided to contact the Family Disappointment. 

 "Hello? Who is this?" You muttered, pinching your half burned cigarette between your index and middle finger, removing it from your mouth so you could speak properly.

 "Where are you? Are you okay?" The deep voice behind the receiver sounded vaguely familiar, but your brain was lagging too far behind to recall where you remembered hearing it. 

 "That's not how you play twenty-one questions," You mused, taking a drag from your cigarette, scrunching your nose and looking up when a droplet of water hit your nose, "I asked first."

 "I'm not playing a game here, your mom has been worried sick-"

 "Jesus fucking Christ, who is this? I can promise you, she isn't worried-"

 "She has been in this church every fuckin' day, praying for you and cryin' her damn eyes out, and you don't think she's worried?" The growl into the receiver had your breath catching in your throat, the slow patter of rain increasing in intensity.

 "Nicholas?" You whispered, standing up straight and wobbling on your feet. "How the fuck did you get my number?"

 "I didn't- look, she gave it to me hoping I could talk some sense into you-"

 Throwing your burnt out cigarette to the ground, you felt anger bubble up from the deepest pit of your gut. "Right. Got it. Well I hate to tell you this, but you're gonna have to tell her mission failed," You scoffed, opening up the side door to step inside. Immediately upon doing so, the blaring music from the jukebox in the corner assaulted your eardrums. "Sorry you don't get to be the big hero today, Mister Preacher Man."

 Vaguely registering the call of your name before you thumbed the hang up button, swiping your phone screen to clear off the stray raindrops and block contact, you entered the bar again. Your hair was damp, the shoulders on your button-down a darker hue than the rest of your shirt. Muttering out a quiet fucking Christ, you shook your head, shoving your phone back in your pocket as you approached your table. Rounding the corner, you paused mid-step, staring at the empty chairs and stray empty glasses. Fucking assholes. Whatever, it wasn't like this was your first time drinking alone in this place. With how regularly you were coming by you were sure the recently posted AA Meeting poster up by the bathrooms must have been targeted at you, or at the very least a subtle jab. 

 Taking a seat at the bar, you settled your previous tab, resting your elbow on the counter and rubbing your hand over your face, then combing it back through your hair, messing up the damp tresses to stick out and point in every direction. The music paused as the jukebox plucked out a record, allowing you a moment of peace to sit and listen to the patter of rain on the window behind the bar. Once the next record began to play, you steeled yourself, patting your hands against the bar in a small beat and ordering your next drink. You wouldn't let your mother, or that fucking priest, get to you. It was about time you put your foot down and stopped bending over backwards to partake in that stupid culty shit anyways. Your thoughts were interrupted by the slide of a glass in your direction, which you accepted with a small nod of appreciation, nursing it between your hands for a quick moment before tipping it back.

 It was a Sunday, it was a work night, you were a responsible adult with a responsible adult job and responsible adult obligations. Which is why you were groaning into your hands as the room spun, having had maybe one or... six too many drinks. Really, you had lost count, the only record of how much you drank would be the negative numbers in your bank account screaming at you when you checked in the morning. Another problem you would simply put off for the time being, not wanting to look at the glaringly obvious issues you were causing yourself. It was fine, everything would be fine. Tilting your wrist to look at the time on your watch, you muttered a quiet fuck, not seeming to realize you'd gotten to the point you couldn't even read a digital clock. You let out a pathetic, inquisitive sound when another glass was slid in your direction- when did you even order this? Regardless, you shrugged to yourself, moving to wrap a hand around the drink, before it was snatched up from in front of you. An offended noise left your lips, in the middle of making an accusatory remark as you glanced at the person beside you stealing your drink.

 Maybe it was the fact you were heavily intoxicated, or maybe it was the fact you had never seen him in semi-casual clothes that didn't resemble post-sex pajamas, but you found yourself having to blink dumbly for a beat or two before scrunching your face in irritation at the scornful look you were receiving. Admittedly he looked good, the top three buttons of his grey shirt undone, his black jacket hanging heavy and wet on his shoulders. His hair was just as soaked, more wet than you thought should be appropriate, considering the walk from the parking lot to the front door was a matter of seconds if you were in a rush to get out of the rain.

 "The fuck are you doing here?" You slurred, running your hand over your face for the umpteenth time that evening, hoping it would help sober you up enough to engage in this conversation.

 "How much have you had to drink?" Wolfwood asked, nodding at the bartender and tossing some cash on the counter. All you did was scoff and roll your eyes.

 "You're really bad at this game," You stated matter-of-factly, earning a questioning raise of his brow. After letting him sit on it for a moment, you rolled your eyes, tapping a hand against the wooden counter. "Twenty-one questions," You elaborated, earning a sigh from the taller man that made you grin. 

 He didn't say anything, tipping back the drink and finishing it in one go. It was probably because you were drunk, but watching him tilt his head back, exposing the column of his throat had you biting at the inside of your cheek. "Alright, let's go," He slammed the glass back on the counter, placing an arm around you, hand settling on your waist as he heaved you off your barstool. You protested, or at least tried to, until you were tumbling into his side, and suddenly the idea of getting yourself home seemed like an impossible feat. "You're a hot mess, kid. Is this what you've been doing all week?" 

 "Mmm, more or less," You didn't have the energy to fight with him about the infantilizing term of endearment, or his jab, simply leaning your head on his arm as the room spun around you, offering you respite for only seconds before everything began to move again. As if to make matters worse, the second you walked through the front doors with him, a heavy onslaught of rain immediately dampened your hair and clothes again, thick droplets soaking you to the core and running down your face as Wolfwood helped you walk your way to the parking lot around the building. Every time you tripped, you laughed, the less than amused grumble your dark-haired savior emitted making you laugh even harder. What should have been a thirty second walk turned into a five minute struggle, eventually resulting in you being leaned up against a bright red four-door. You stuck your lip out, snickering as he fiddled with the keys and opened the door for you.

 "Red doesn't seem like your color," You teased, resting your head on the car with a dull thud. Wolfwood pried the door open, holding it with his knee as he reached for you, guiding you into the passenger seat. His palms were warm, scorching your skin through your freezing cold, wet clothes. A shiver ran up your spine as you plunked down in your seat, throwing your head back and gazing up at him dumbly.

 "Ain't my car," He stated, reaching over your body and buckling you in. He smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes, the scent alone reminding you of your rendezvous in the confessional. You groaned, more to yourself than anything, as he pulled back and slammed the door shut behind him. You slumped in the seat, hands coming up to your soaked shirt and peeling it away from your body slightly, only to have it stick right back when you let go. The car jiggled as Wolfwood climbed in the drivers site, making you sway with the motion. He buckled himself in, sticking the key in the ignition, turning the engine over. You glanced over at him, lazily eyeing him up and down, making note of the tight clench of the muscles in his jaw and the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. When he turned to shoulder check, he met your eyes, caught in your half lidded stare. Too out of your mind to even try salvaging what little of your dignity you had left, or make an excuse, all you did was grin, fingers plucking away the wet shirt from your body once again. 

 "What's your address?" Wolfwood spoke evenly, calm, but there was an irritated lilt at the end that made you drunkenly snicker at him.

 "Ohhh, why do you want my address you weirdo? Gonna sneak in while I'm sleeping and f-"

 "It's so I can bring you home," Wolfwood interrupted, turning his gaze away as he pulled out of the parking lot, "Don't be an idiot."

 "Jussayin', you seem the type," You quipped, leaning your head up against the glass window, watching the rain trails scatter and jump as the car sped up. "Not like I would mind."

 "You- Christ, give me your damn address."

 "Oh, you're going to Hell now! Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain! Bad priest," You tutted, wagging your finger at him in jest as you slid in your seat around a turn, your head bobbing and body swaying with every small movement. 

 "Fine," Wolfwood grumbled, turning his grip on the wheel and speeding the car up, "Have it your way." 

 An indignant noise meant to mock him left your throat, forgetting why you were even bickering in the first place. The drive was short, much shorter than you anticipated it would be, but you chalked it up to possibly not remembering half the ride. Squinting your eyes as he put the car in park, you glanced around at the surrounding street lights, not finding your immediate area as familiar as you should. God, how fucked up were you? Wolfwood shut off the car, hopping out and slamming his door shut behind him. Trying your best to track him with your eyes in the rear view mirror, you watched him loop the car, coming around to your side and yanking the door open. You'd like to say the act itself gave off that he was irritated, but really you couldn't tell, or care. For just a moment, he stood holding the door open, staring down at you as you lolled your head back, grinning defiantly at him. He was soaked, hair dripping and button-down clinging to his torso.

 "Fuckin' ridiculous," He muttered, leaning down and over you, unbuckling your seatbelt.

 It was probably because you were drunk, or at least that's the excuse you would use if you were interrogated about it, but the smell of him paired with the proximity was making you lightheaded and nauseous. You were agitated, agitated by him showing up unannounced, agitated by him stealing your drink, and agitated that he seemed to so easily let go of him fucking you stupid on his living room couch. You were annoyed, so annoyed that you couldn't help but curl a fist into the collar of his shirt, couldn't help but tug him down to your level and clash your lips into his with nettled irritation that definitely didn't translate properly into your actions, if the warm hand on your waist was to speak any truths. To your surprise, he met your fervor, quickly turning your boldness around on you as he pushed into you, the back of your skull hitting the headrest as your mouth was pried open with his tongue. Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended, him being the first to jolt back and peer down at you with a conflicted gaze. 

 "Jesus Christ," Wolfwood shook his head, wrapping a hand around your bicep and helping you out of the car. You wish you weren't vividly aware of the disappointment practically dripping off of him.

 Before you could quip some smartass comment about The Lord, he was throwing his jacket over your head and slamming the car door behind you. The arm around your shoulders holding you against him kept you steady despite the uneven gravel ground, the urgency in which he rushed you across the park and up a set of concrete stairs probably more for his own sake than yours, considering you were (mostly) shielded from the onslaught of unforgiving weather conditions. A hand came up, grasping the collar of the jacket thrown over your head and pulling up so you could watch where he was taking you to, presumably, dump your body. Upon seeing the massive wooden doors and stained glass windows only moderately illuminated by a faint orange flickering light inside, you dug your heels into the ground, trying and obviously failing to redirect the route in which Wolfwood was dragging you. Instead, you toppled over, tripping over yourself and colliding face-first into the hardwood door in front of you. You weren't able to register the frantic curse that came from the man beside you, too busy slapping a hand over your nose and mouth as you slid down to your knees, only removing your hand briefly to see the blood pooling into your palm.

 "What the f- shit, are you okay? What was that?" Wolfwood scrambled, crouching next to you, a hand hovering over your back, the other hesitating beside the forearm belonging to the hand firmly clasped over your face. All you could do was stare at the ground as your surroundings spun, watching rivulets of red drop and disperse, diluting on the wet ground below. "Hey, kid-"

 "Don't," You said firmly into your palm, taking your hand away and swaying back, his black jacket falling off your shoulders and onto the ground as you looked up, pinching the bridge of your aching nose to stop the bleeding. 

 "I can't," You confessed after a moment or two, eyes scrunching closed, "I can't go back in there, Nick." The name felt distant, given that you hadn't called him anything but Father in nearly a month.

 "The hell are you talking about?"

 "You and I both know you're not that stupid," You tilted your head, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, blood leaking down your chin and dripping into your mouth as you spoke. The copper taste was bitter, but did a fantastic job at sobering you up some. Or, maybe it was the throbbing pain in your face and ache in your chest, it was hard to tell at this point. "I think it's better for both of us if you stopped pretending to care so much when no one is watching."

 All he did was stare, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line for a beat or two, before his hands were grabbing under your arms and scooping you up from the ground. You let him, any fight you could've put up long gone once tears began to sting your eyes, from the physical or emotional aspect you weren't quite certain. Once he got you standing, he snatched up his sopping jacket, throwing it over his shoulder and wrapping an arm firmly around your waist, pushing open one of the double doors and ushering you through. The arm around your waist, his rushed steps, the twists and turns down the halls you had only seen once before gave you deja vu, a wall of nausea hitting you like a ton of bricks as he helped you through the door to his living quarters. You followed wordlessly after he closed the door behind him, dragging you in the direction of his bathroom, before he was unceremoniously dropping you down to sit on the edge of the tub.

 The silence was deafening, your ears ringing after every small noise as he rummaged about in the wall mounted mirror cabinet. Snatching out a couple packages and a roll of medical tape, Wolfwood turned to you, crouching before you as he dropped the supplies he'd gathered on the toilet lid beside him. You watched with your eyes, body unmoving, offering him a quick glance.

 "'S not very sanitary," You teased, but it was devoid of any wit or good-natured ridicule your tone usually held when taking jabs at him. He noticed this, continuing to say nothing as he gripped your jaw in the palm of his hand, turning your head to one side, then the other, as he examined your nose. This gave you ample time to gauge his expression, and even with your alcohol riddled mind, you could see the tension in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, could see the slight downturn of his lips as he ripped open a paper package, lining the thin cotton material up at the bridge of your nose, ripping a piece of medical tape from the roll with his teeth to set the gauze in place. 

 "Isn't broken, you're lucky," Wolfwood finally spoke up, balling up a thick wad of cotton and dousing it with saline, wiping up the blood from your nose, lips, and chin. His hands were surprisingly gentle, only making you wince when he secured the gauze with a second piece of tape to ensure it wasn't going anywhere. "Might be an ugly bruise though."

 Tossing the used materials in the tiny garbage, he heaved a sigh, resting the palms of his hands on his thighs as he leaned side to side, inspecting his handiwork for a moment. You sat in uncomfortable silence, the chill of your soaking wet clothes making goosebumps erupt on your skin as you suppressed a shiver. Wolfwood stood, stepping out of the room and leaving you to sit with your own thoughts which was never a good thing, your eyes falling to the floor as you brought a hand up, wiping the heel of your palm down the side of your face. The quiet slap of your hand hitting your sopping wet pant leg echoed through the tiled room, not a second later your equally- if not more- drenched companion was emerging from the hall, the same pants and shirt that he had let you borrow last time in hand. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the fact he kept them in the opaque white plastic bag you returned them in, "donation" scribbled in crude sharpie on the side.

 He dropped the bag onto the toilet lid, turning and leaving the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. You waited, fingers gripping the edge of the tub like your life depended on it when he paused just before the door shut. 

 "You got it backwards," Wolfwood spoke low, hand twisting the door knob in his grip, "I don't pretend to care when people aren't around. I pretend I don't care when people are around."

 You were certain nothing good would come out of you mulling over that thought for too long, so you distracted yourself with getting changed, putting your disgustingly wet clothes in the plastic bag you previously brought his clothes in. Snatching up one of the towels hanging beside the shower, you toweled off your hair, tousling it a bit before smoothing it out with your fingers. At least now it was only damp instead of completely saturated. Scooping your phone up from the counter and being met with nothing but a black screen, you grumbled lowly, carelessly letting it clatter back into it's previous position and pulling open the door. Surprised to see a freshly changed Wolfwood on the other side, arms crossed and leaned back against the wall, cigarette hanging from his lips, you blinked up at him. Much as he had done before, he nudged his head to point down the hall, before setting off, leading you just a few doors down to a bedroom, his bedroom, you presumed. 

 Not surprisingly, the space more reflected the life of a bachelor more so than a priest, clothes strewn about beside a basket as if he couldn't be bothered to properly place them inside, a couple empty scotch glasses on the nightstand. If it wasn't for the massive intricate stained glass window directly behind the bed you would have thought it was just an average older house, the white walls with the occasional wood panel running up the wall giving no particular out of the ordinary or holy aura. You tried and failed to not pay attention to the more dubious items on the opposite nightstand, consisting of a half-empty bottle of lube and scrunched up tissues, quickly averting your eyes as he cleared his throat and nudged past you to tidy up a bit. Unsure what to do with yourself, you shoved your hands in your pockets, shifting your weight from side to side and staring up at the ceiling until he was giving you a verbal cue that you could welcome yourself into the space.

 "Don't have a guest room," Wolfwood tossed the bit of garbage he had collected into a small plastic waste bin, words muffled around his cigarette, "Got plenty of rooms, just not another bed. You can take mine tonight."

 Swallowing at the implication, you dared a glance in his direction as you spoke, watching him pluck up some clothes from the floor. "I can take the couch. I have to wake up early anyways, so..." The thought in itself gave you a headache, getting up stupid early so you could cab home and get changed and get yourself to work when it was already an ungodly hour and you were still tipsy. "Honestly I should probably go home-"

 "Stay."

 You blinked, watching him stand to his full height again, glancing over his shoulder at you. The way his gaze seemed to harden upon making eye contact made you nervous, like somehow he was managing to look right through you and your excuses, giving no room to weasel your way out of your present position. Throwing his clothes in the hamper, Wolfwood stood in place, mimicking your position and crossing his arms, the cherry on his cigarette burning dangerously low to the filter, ash falling off and onto the hardwood below. "You'll stay for the night, I'll get you to work in the morning. Got it?" His tone was firm, and all you could do was stare and nod, earning a similar response in return. "Alright, good."

 After holding eye contact for maybe a couple moments too long, he looked away from you, not meeting your eye again even as he walked past you. Watching his hand raise, hover above your shoulder, before falling back to his side, eyes tailing him as he walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts again.

 Unsure what to do with your mind or body, you took a deep breath, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands into your underarms, staring at the floor in front of you. Finally gathering the courage, you shuffled forwards, climbing onto the bed and laying your head down on what was possibly the least comfortable pillow you'd ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. Discomfort was quickly set aside when all you could smell was him, and suddenly you were chastising yourself for being foolish enough to think you could have willed yourself into having any other reaction that wasn't reddened, ruddy cheeks and a half-hard cock jumping in your borrowed sweats. Not when you were surrounded by him, not when you closed your eyes all you could see was the way he fucked into your throat, or how he bit into your neck, or how he gripped your hips so hard he left round shaped bruises that perfectly matched the pads of his fingers. It was like you could still feel the hand gripping your jaw, the fingers pushing into your mouth, and the warm press of his chest against your arched back.

 Throwing a hand over your eyes, you grit your teeth, palming over the growing tent in your pants and emitting a low, quiet whine, and instantly you knew what you could do wouldn't be nearly enough, not when your alcohol addled mind was showing you nothing but lewd imagery of the man just a room or two over, memories playing relentlessly like a movie behind your eyelids. Heaving a sigh, you slapped your arm down onto the bed, pushing yourself up and onto your feet, and carrying yourself out of the room. You didn't care that you flung the door open so hard it banged against the wall, the loud noise echoing off the tacky ornate cross-ridden walls and bouncing off ridiculously high ceilings, didn't care that as you came down the hall it looked like Wolfwood was already comfy and getting ready to sleep, didn't care that as you approached he asked you what you were doing. All you cared about was the flex of his forearms as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, throwing your leg over his lap to straddle him, and crushing your lips into his in a desperate, messy kiss. All you cared about was the hand weaving through your hair, settling on the back of your head, and the tongue pushing into your lips begging for more.

 Religion was a mess, people justifying discourse and hate as the word of God. But, you were just as messy, so maybe God, and Wolfwood, could eventually forgive you for fucking up your life just a little bit more.

[csbat]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐘 — 𝐒𝐑.

▸ PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

▸ SUMMARY: Time expanded slowly; the long weeks becoming months that soon turned into searing years. Your only silver lining—the basis of your hope and love—was the familiar yet fleeting knock on your door.

OR, in which; every first day of the month, a delivery of flowers shows up on your porch.

▸ CONTENT INCLUDES: Major character death (mentioned), angst, hurt/no comfort

▸ WORD COUNT: 2,560

The promise of Simon’s inevitable absence would always be a tough pill to swallow, no matter how many times it was forced down your throat. You were well informed of his duties, and with that came the sleepless nights and long mornings when you were left alone with your thoughts. Left alone to ponder the possibilities and risks he’d always have to take. To have him meant to accept that he was made to be a warrior, a soldier, a machine.

Distantly, you can still recall his words, whispered in the dark and followed by his rough hands rubbing over the skin on your hips with a supple grace that shouldn’t be known to him.

We have to get our hands dirty to keep the world clean. He said it with resignation, as if it were final. As if it were something that couldn’t change. You now know that he was right.

You don’t have to ruin yourself for people that don’t deserve it. You wanted to shout, to plead with him.

You’re a good person and you’ve suffered enough. The words were on the tip of your tongue, begging to be heard, begging to screw into his head.

You deserve to rest. You would’ve said it if you knew it would have made a difference (it wouldn’t).

Simon wasn’t the type to outwardly show affection. Maybe it was because of the past, maybe it was because no matter how many times he washed his hands they always looked bloody, or maybe it was just who he was. The answer was unimportant because he found other ways of showing his love, his appreciation, his devotion. The displays varied from one to the next, but your favorite was easily the pretty bouquet of flowers that would show up on your porch at the start of every month. He would fein innocence, claiming that he had no idea where they came from, and you would fein ignorance, pretending not to see his name on the tag.

When he left with a kiss and a promise to be back soon, you tried not to think about it. You tried not to remind yourself that anything could happen. You tried to trust that he would be okay. He’d be home soon enough, and you could go right back to folding laundry together in silence, or making those (according to him, awfully long) trips to the grocery store. He’d be fine and you’d feel silly for worrying, just like you always did.

He never did come home.

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

It had been a month since you last saw Simon. You weren’t panicking; you were used to his missions lasting longer than expected and by now learned not to get your hopes up. The lawn started to grow out, but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind with a small reminder that he would take care of it when he got back.

It was midnight when your attention was torn away from the book in your lap. A knock on the door, one so quiet that you had to question if it was even there, disrupted the still silence. With a sigh and a quiet groan after you stood up to stretch, you made your way to the door with a solid idea of what you’d find.

A pretty arrangement of flowers sat in a vase on the porch; a figment of all your love wrapped in a pretty bow. With a small smile, you crouched down, finding the unmistakable name of Simon Riley printed on the card. You weren’t worried because you knew he was coming home, but the gesture still eased the tension in your shoulders and softened the heaviness in your chest.

Feeling much lighter than before, you ventured back inside.

Simon,

I know you’re busy because you have a job or whatever, but don’t you know it’s rude not to deliver flowers in person?

Kidding, they smell very sweet and I’m glad you went with the roses this time. They remind me of our first date, how you showed up at my door with a couple of dead ones and told me you forgot to water them. I think I still have them somewhere actually.

I don’t know when you’ll come back or if you’ll even read this, but I miss you and I guess I was feeling lucky.

Take care,

your favorite person ever

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

It had been two months since Simon’s departure and your routine had never felt more repetitive. The colors around you were dimming and sound turned to static and empty noise. You felt heavy, like your body was trying to tell you something that your mind didn’t know. You almost felt guilty at the need in your chest and the desperate voice in your head that willed his arrival. He was out there saving the world, saving people (that would never appreciate it), but the longer he was away the more persistent the voice became.

So when the singular, very anticipated knock came at midnight, it also came as a reminder of everything you were waiting for. It eased the voice and begged it to stay quiet. Begged to be at peace, at least for a moment.

Simon,

What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?

“Oh no, I lost my tractor!”

I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how long I laughed at that. Anti-jokes are a lot funnier in person though, and I have a whole list lined up for when you come home.

Hope you’re okay,

still your favorite person ever

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

As time failed to stop, Simon’s absence became more infamous. With it edging on three months, the hole he left was more noticeable than ever. Christmas would be coming up soon, and you didn’t feel the familiar childlike joy that you did last year. You didn’t want to decorate, or make cookies, or really do anything. With Simon being deployed, you had no one else to celebrate with.

You had no interest in the upcoming holiday, but against your instincts, you willed yourself to put up a tree and decorated it haphazardly. You put up the lights—the ones you bought two years ago and still used despite the fact that half of them were out (because they were his favorites). When he came home, because he would, he’d be greeted by the warm atmosphere and a few presents awaiting him under the tree. He wouldn’t have time to get you anything, but his return was the only thing you wished for.

When Christmas eventually did roll around; with the grass covered in white, snowflakes falling from the sky, and the nearest lakes all frozen over, you sat in his favorite recliner and sipped at the cup of warm tea in your supple hands. You waited, and waited, and waited, ‘cause what else were you supposed to do?

As the twenty-fifth morphed into the thirty-first, you realized with aching bones that he wouldn’t be coming home soon enough. That would be fine, you could wait and so could the Christmas music and bundle of gifts. It could never be too late to celebrate, right?

You sat on a stool in the kitchen, the time growing closer and closer to your favorite hour. And as predicted, when the clock struck midnight, a quiet knock rattled the door. Quickly, you scurried toward it, opening it with haste to find the same beautiful bouquet waiting for your attention. It was bigger than usual, more flowers shoved into the vase and brighter colors in your vision. His return was the only gift you asked for, but as long as these showed up, you supposed that would have to do.

With hesitant movements and a heavy frown, you took the vase inside.

Simon,

Christmas feels weird without you. Might be a strange way to start this letter, but I really miss you and I’m too tired to feel subtle about it. Since you weren’t here to help me decorate, I did it myself, even though it honestly looks like shit. I can never reach all the high places that you can, you fuckin’ giant.

I’ll keep everything up until you get home so that we can still celebrate. I know you hate opening gifts, but I couldn’t help myself this year. I just see things and my first thought is ‘mm, I bet Simon would like that’, which leads to me getting it.

I really miss you. I hope you’re safe wherever you are, and I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it.

See you soon,

your person

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

It was a new year, but time didn’t feel any different. Each day hope diminished, each day felt longer and each day your heart plummeted when he didn’t return. He would though. He had to. He still had unopen presents and there were still so many things you had to say to him.

When the familiar time came, you rushed to the door, nearly beating the mysterious knock. Despite how fast you were, you could never catch the person who dropped the flowers off. You tried searching for proof of his existence in things that held no answer, and as you shuffled through the bouquet in search of that damn tag that would have his name on it, you were surprised when the only one you found was much different than before.

Not only was it handwritten, but it was in a different style than Simon’s messy handwriting. It read two words that nearly made your heart sink. I’m sorry. That was it, no explanation, no answers. You tried not to think about what that might mean. Tried not to think about the fact that it was Price’s handwriting you were staring at.

Simon,

It’s been 103 days since you’ve left and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I’m either constantly waiting for your return or sleeping the dread away. What’s keeping you from me? Are you safe? Are you ever going to read this?

I know you hate it when I worry, but I’m starting to think that this is it. Please come home. Please be here. It’s getting so lonely without your horrible jokes and the silence feels like it’s trying to tell me something.

I’m starting to believe it.

𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

After five months of silence, you got your answer, but not in the way you wanted. When February came around, you were more impatient than ever. Your heart was beating out of your chest in the minutes leading up to midnight, and even more so when the time came and there was an eerie lack of sound. You always handled silence well, but found that you’ve never hated it more. It’s never felt this suffocating.

Your heart fell as twelve turned into one, and one into two. The hours dragged on until the sun was shining through the windows, and when the flowers never came you realized that you knew why.

Simon,

I don’t want to be angry with you but somebody has to be. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know if it was painful. I don’t even know if you regret it. Did you think about me? Did you see me when your life flashed before your eyes? Did it happen too fast for that to even happen?

You can’t be gone. Please come home and tell me this is a joke. Come home and open your presents. Just come home.

The grass was growing out, but you refused to cut it down. Refused to accept what you already knew; he wasn’t making it home this time. Most nights, you woke up in a sweat because he wasn’t there to hog the blanket. You can’t even recall how many cups of tea you’ve had to throw out due to accidentally making another for him in your morning haze, nor can you recall how many times you’ve had to stop yourself from calling out his name when you got home after a long day.

You just had trouble reminding yourself that he was gone. It was strange, one second you had him and the next you didn’t. If you knew his absence would be forever, you would’ve done more. You would’ve held him tighter when you begged for him not to go. You would’ve broken a bone to keep him from leaving; said something to make him stay. How were you supposed to accept the fact that you’d never see him again when you hardly even got a goodbye?

Against rationality, you still held hope that he’d show up on the doorstep in the pouring rain with every part of you that he took with him when he left. With love and flowers and daydreams. You’d let him in without a second thought. You wouldn’t even want an apology for the fear he instilled in you for so long, just his presence. You’d let him hog the blanket and you’d make an extra cup of tea. You would love him and lose him again if you had to.

But time didn’t stop moving, and his arrival never came. Your wish fell on deaf ears and pleading with the sky never worked.

If he lived here he’d be home by now.

Simon,

I don’t know why I’m reaching out again, but you were once my favorite person to talk to and it’s still a habit I’ve yet to break. It’s been 4 years, and I’m still right where you left me. I wish I could say that I’m not who I used to be; that I’ve grown and that I’ve changed, but I’ve learned that healing looks different for everyone.

I just want you to know that I’m not angry anymore. You were doing what you had to do. You always knew that came with sacrifices and I was foolish to believe you would never be one of them. I’m not mad at you for leaving me behind, I’m not mad at you for promising you’d be back, and I’m not mad at you for breaking that promise.

I’m trying to plant new seeds and water new plants, to replace the wilting flowers with bright, new, healthy ones. I’m trying to accept that it is what it is, and I’m trying to stop making it into what it was. It doesn’t hurt to think about anymore. The questions and the memories came and went and settled deep into my conscious where they no longer keep me up at night.

Despite this, I still have all the flowers you sent me. They’re all sensitive and dead now, but they’re in a box under the bed along with all of our pictures and all of our history. You were the first and last person I’ll fall for, and even though you aren’t around to give me those stupid butterflies and tell me those stupid jokes, that time will always be a part of me, which means you will too.

I’ve come to accept that. That even though a part of me died with you, new flames can cauterize the old wounds you left. Thank you for loving me, thank you for teaching me that flowers wither and die, and thank you for teaching me how to water new ones.

▸ A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t the greatest, I haven’t written anything in a while and I’m writing this in the middle of the night so there may be errors. That being said, I hope you enjoyed whatever the fuck this was! I might make a longer, more detailed version sometime in the future but for now this’ll have to do.

P.S, I’m sort of new to this shit, and generally have no idea what I’m doing or how this works.

[kulekrizpy]

my friend/ex was really upset yesterday. his body is all messed up from various injuries, he needs dental work. i told him to call out of work bc he wasn’t going to get any sleep before his shift

he moved near his hometown with some planning but not a lot. he wants to go to school. but he won’t have in-state tuition since he was living in my state prior to moving. he works really hard at work but it’s physical labor and it only makes his health issues worse. he also doesn’t want to move up to a less labor-intensive position :/ he honestly needs to take medical leave

and he’s upset with my brother for various reasons, but last night he was drinking and it all came out and he messaged my brother and my mother about how upset he was about my brother breaking something of mine and not paying in full to replace it. he’s struggling with money on his own and he resents my brother for having a cushy job that he complains about and flouts authority on. in many ways my brother IS entitled and probably WOULD benefit from being punched in the face at least once for his shitty political views, especially bc my ex is genderqueer. but he has definitely not spoken frankly about it with my brother

speaking of which, now he’s in a less accepting place and tho he “toned down the queer” he still gets looks from ppl and it’s stressing him out a lot. he worries about going thru backroads in case his car breaks down and someone kills him

all his friends from back home are druggies or complete deadbeats or both and he’s had a falling out with everyone since he moved. he’s also worried one of his older friends won’t live beyond this year. so now all the friends he does rely on are in my area and not his and he’s very lonely and isolated. and that also means i’m his best friend rn, which he’s told me several times

a week or so ago he wanted to make a risky and illegal change in career and after i told him i wouldn’t have been friends with him anymore if he decided to do it, he told me he still wants to fuck me. when i told him i can’t be casual with him anymore so don’t say that, he said he didn’t say it properly and that he meant he wants to be with me, eventually. and it’s just a whole fucking thing. he can’t even articulate what he wants. i told him not to mention it again unless he was sure and confident he could actually be a good partner to me. and i told him i need time to get over him too

and last night, we were chatting and i realized he’d been drinking, and he’s in a negative spiral/combative. he messaged my family. i told him he should wait til the morning and he did it anyway. at that point i said whatever. the call dragged on for hours tho he needed to sleep for work. he was in such a state i didn’t feel comfortable getting off the phone with him in case he did something very risky, like driving drunk or idk what else. he talked about wanting to lay down on some train tracks…

AND he called me again at work the other day. like. on the work phone. he used to work there but it’s just… not professional. feels weird. esp bc he was doing it cuz he was drunk. told him to text or call my phone next time

he gets drunk and disregards boundaries. bc he also mentioned the dating thing last night while we were talking. and when i told him not to he sidestepped and kept going on about whatever rant. and he just argues abt everything when he’s drunk. DUMB shit. like me taking my bike apart to store it easier. like bruh leave me alone ??

in the end he called out of work, then talked to his sister and i guess she convinced him to drive up instead of doing something dumber. i asked if he was sober enough and he said yeah. which he would’ve said no matter what i’m sure :|

so. he got to his family’s place and i guess i’ll see him today sometime. i told him i don’t want to drink and my brother doesn’t wanna drink with him either, so we’ll avoid that at our house at least

he’s trying, but he’s also falling back on stupid habits. i just hope he can figure out how to get the help he needs

and i need to figure out how to keep my boundaries

the cats woke me up earlier. i need to sleep more before i see him. good night

[kamryn1963]

So Long, London- Chapter 18\30

TW: Mentioned/talked about self harm

At eleven the next morning, Hank and Trudy arrived at Al’s apartment. They’d called ahead and picked up lunch for all of them plus Michelle and Lexi. 

This was the first time Hank and Trudy were actually meeting Michelle and both didn’t know what to expect. They knew she had a rough life until now but Al had said she was a good kid. 

Soon Hank and Trudy were climbing the stairs with the pizza they had picked up and knocking on Al’s apartment door. Lexi answered and Trudy instantly pulled her into a hug while Hank went to put the food down and find Al. 

“How are you feeling?” Trudy whispered as she rubbed Lexi’s back. Lexi leaned into her, hugging her aunt back. 

“I’m okay Aunt Trudy. It just- still doesn’t feel real. That mom’s gone”. Lexi’s voice cracked on the last word and Trudy just hugged her tighter and let Lexi cry. 

Once Lexi seemed to have calmed a bit, Trudy pulled away and smoothed her hair out of her face. 

“Are you feeling better now?” Trudy asked as her and Lexi started heading to the kitchen where Hank and Al were getting plates and cups out. 

“A little. Thank you”. Lexi said with a small smile as she took a seat and rubbed at her red eyes with her good hand. 

“Where’s the other one?” Trudy questioned as she couldn’t see Michelle anywhere in the kitchen or the living room. 

“She’s just getting dressed. She’s a bit nervous to meet you guys”. Al responded as he leaned against the counter. 

“As she should be. Trudy bites”. Hank joked as he set a hand on Al’s arm. Both Hank and Lexi laughed at that as Trudy rolled her eyes but Al was more focused on the feeling of Hank’s arm on his. 

Sure Hank had touched him before but this felt different almost. Al shook his head as he cautiously pulled away not wanting to alarm Hank. He hit himself for thinking like that after Meredith had just died. 

“There she is”. Al announced a few minutes later as the bathroom door opened and Michelle came to the kitchen. 

“Hey”. Michelle said shyly looking at Hank and Trudy for a minute before quickly grabbing a slice of pizza and sitting next to Lexi. 

“You must be Michelle?” Hank asked though it was a rhetorical question. He asked, hoping to start some kind of conversation with the teenager. 

“I am. Hank, right?” 

“Yeah and this is Trudy”. Hank replied, gesturing vaguely to Trudy who waved. Michelle smiled a bit before going quiet again, clearly a little overwhelmed with all this. 

Al knew the last week had been a lot for both his daughters and he wished there was something more he could do to help. But Al knew there wasn’t much he could do other than offer silent support like he’d been doing. 

Only later while they were all eating did Al realize that was the first time he’d ever referred to Michelle as his daughter. He smiled to himself before going back to nodding at whatever story Trudy was telling. 

After they had all eaten and cleaned up from lunch, Hank gave the girls some money and asked if they could give them some space and head to the nearby convenience store for a treat. Both agreed obviously realizing something was wrong. Al had no chance to protest before they were gone. 

It was then he realized this visit from them wasn’t just a causal checking in but an intervention for him. Lucky him. 

The three friends headed to the living room all taking a seat. Al was getting deja vu from all the others many many times they’d done this before. 

“Adam came to talk to me yesterday”. Hank stated and Al was avoiding eye contact as he replied. 

“Of course he did. This intervention or whatever you two think you're doing is pointless because I’m fine and don’t need your guy’s questions”. Al snapped back. 

While Adam may not have been smart enough to figure out where the cuts were from, Al knew he probably had figured out they weren’t from a cooking accident and Adam probably told Hank that while he was tattling. And if he did Al was completely screwed because Hank and Trudy knew exactly how those cuts happened and what Al started doing again. 

“I thought you were clean, Alvin?” Trudy sighed but there was no anger in her voice. Just worry. 

“Don’t I know it”. Al muttered. He was quickly getting defensive. Al was well aware of where this was going.

Hank and Trudy would beat around the bush a little more before one of them, probably Hank, would outright ask if he was cutting again. They’d then tell him he needed therapy and Al would agree just to get them off his back when they all knew he wouldn’t go. 

“Look I’ll save you the time and energy. I’m fine, I don’t need help and my coping mechanisms are none of your business”. Al wasn’t shouting but he was pretty damn close. He’d stood up at this point and was pacing angrily. 

“Not our business?! Alvin, you're our friend. Our friend who’s cutting himself again”. Hank snapped back his tone matching Al’s. 

Al was surprised he hadn’t done his normal bullshitting today. Myabe Hank and Trudy finally realized just how fucked up he truly was? 

“I’m not cutting myself again”. It was clearly a lie but Al didn’t know what else to say anymore. 

Thankfully before Hank or Trudy could reply, the front door opened and Michelle and Lexi came back in now holding a chocolate bar each. 

“I’m sorry we came back so early. My ribs were starting to hurt and there was nowhere close by to sit”. Lexi muttered as both girls clearly sensed the tension in the room. 

“It’s okay, Lex. I shouldn’t have asked you to go out in the first place”. Hank apologized, prying his eyes away from Al to look at her. 

“It’s okay. It’s been fun to get to know Michelle”. Lexi replied, smiling at the younger girl before heading towards her bedroom. 

Michelle headed to Al’s room with a smile and muttered excuse, the tension in the room still heavy. Then the three adults were alone again. 

“Get out”. Al said before either of them could start on their questioning again. 

“Alvin”. Trudy started but Al just shook his head as he sat down on the couch putting his head in his hands. 

“Get out”. Al repeated and he heard Hank and Trudy sigh before Hank pressed his lips to Al’s head. 

“Will leave but you need to talk to us soon”. Hank whispered before he heard their footsteps fading away and the front door open and close. 

Al was glad he was able to hold their questioning. He wasn’t able to admit it yet. That he had a problem. If he said it outloud it was too real. Hank would probably suspend him or put him on desk duty and Al couldn’t handle that. 

If he told them about his relapse and the self harming then it meant it was real and that Al had a problem. It meant he’d have to deal with the problem. 

Al’s life already had enough problems in it before adding his fucked up mind to the mix. Al needed to focus on his daughters. That was better than his own problems. He just tugged his long sleeves down further and stood up to make sure Lexi had taken her next dose of pain medication. 

End Notes: This fanfic is about Al's healing after his divorce and what came after that for him and I decided not to put him in another relationship in this fic. However... I couldn't help but sneak in some potential pre-relationship with Al/Hank ;)

Also some shameless self promoting, but I posted another WIP, a Al/Hank coffee shop AU so please take a look at that one if it's something that sounds of interest!

Happy Monday :)

[ascendancy-echoes]

Interlude: The Right Thing to Do

The next morning, Ismene was setting plates of bacon and eggs down as she told Russ that after he helped her water the garden, they were going to go back into town.

“Why?”

Ismene sighed. She explained that she wanted to apologize to the other townsfolk for her attitude the day before and she needed to get more groceries if he was going to stay with her. She also added that he’d want a pair of boots before the winter.

“I know I was really dismissive about the boot thing back in the forest,” she said. “But it’s been my experience that almost everyone here who has feet needs boots in the winter.”

Russ glanced down at Ismene’s tail and asked, “What about you?”

“I don’t go out if it snows but otherwise I’m fine,” Ismene replied with a shrug. “I stock up my pantry before that happens.”

After helping Ismene with the morning chores, Russ followed her to town. He didn’t feel nearly as anxious as he did the day before. Ismene led the way to a house on the southern edge of town. It looked like two small cottages stuck together just before the mainstreet. A sign hung in the window of one cottage, advertising leatherworks and shoemaking. Ismene led the way in. Russ followed and saw a blue Imp sitting behind a counter, working on a small boot.

“Hey Ismene, Fechin said you were yelling at everyone in town yesterday,” the blue Imp said from his work bench. “What bit your tail?”

Ismene replied, gesturing to Russ, “Oz was being a shit and spreading rumors about him and I got a little pissed.”

“A little? You put a dent in the wall when you slammed that door open at the general store,” called out another small voice from the back room. A brown Imp came out with a small pile of leather. Setting it on the counter, he continued, “I’ve never seen you that mad before.”

Seeing Russ, the brown Imp said, “Oh! You must be the new kid. Russ, right?”

Russ nodded and mumbled a greeting. Ismene explained the reason for their visit and asked if they had time to help. The two Imps nodded.

“We got some free time,” Brogan replied. “I’ll grab the stuff.”

While Brogan went back to get the things they’d need to measure Russ for some new boots, Ismene approached the counter and looked to Fechin.

“Are you two still chummy with that old human?”

“His name is Melichor and we aren’t ‘chummy’,” Fechin replied. “We just don’t see a point in overcharging him for our wares like the rest of you.”

Ismene frowned. “He’s a human.”

“Look, we all know what happened to your folks and we’re truly sorry, but Melichor’s not the one who hurt you or the others,” Fechin replied. “Why are you even bringing him up?”

“It’s a long shot but can you ask him if he or any humans he knows has heard of or seen a Mystic like Russ.”

Fechin eyed Russ curiously. As if reading his mind, Ismene remarked that so far no one knew where Russ could’ve come from and she had promised Russ that they’d figure it out.

Russ confirmed that he couldn’t remember anything except his name. Not wanting to dwell on the subject, Russ asked about the human Ismene had mentioned.

“I have a question about the human you know… Why does he live near here and not with other humans?” Russ asked.

Brogan shrugged. “He likes his solitude. Nice enough fellow and he doesn’t act like we Mystics are bad.”

“We sell him leather for his tools and he trades us stuff from the Zenan continent,” Fechin added, leading Russ to a stool.

“How much is this going to cost?” asked Ismene as she watched the Imps measure and took down notes for Russ’s boots.

“No charge,” Brogan replied. “We’d be happy to help. One pair of boots won’t break the coffers. It will take a few days though cuz we have other orders.”

As soon as Brogan and Fechin were done taking measurements, Ismene and Russ bid them farewell and departed for town. Russ glanced back at the Imps’ home and then asked Ismene if Noctis Arbitra knew about the old human.

“I’m sure they do, but like those two said, he ain’t a threat,” Ismene replied. “He stays out of Medina and we leave him alone.”

“Are there any other Mystics outside of Medina?” Russ asked, changing the subject.

“After the war, all Mystics were forced to relocate here on the continent of Alastori,” Ismene sighed. “It was the condition of the surrender… to stay out of human lands. Alastori is big enough for all of us and Medina is a fine town but… well, it’s not like you or I can just stroll down the streets of Truce.”

Russ nodded but said, “That still doesn’t really answer my question.”

“If there are, we haven’t had contact in centuries,” Ismene replied. “As much as I wish I had a real answer for you, there is no point in dwelling on things we’ll never find out.”

Russ looked down the road to the rest of Medina. The sun shone down upon the town and the smell of fresh bread drifted towards them and Russ could see the market at the center of town by the plaza was already bustling. He wasn’t sure how long he would stay in Medina, but Russ was starting to feel like maybe it could be home, even for a little bit.

~o~O~o~

A week later, Belinay came by while Ismene was in town on deliveries to give Russ a tea sapling she had acquired so Ismene could make him ‘real tea’, not ‘that medicinal stuff’ she made. Russ tried to invite Belinay in, but Belinay declined, remaining on the front steps. 

“What is your secret, dear?” Belinay asked, sounding like she was asking for a secret recipe. “Some folks in the town are quite surprised Ismene’s kept you around.”

Seeing that Russ was confused by her remark, Belinay informed him that Ismene was usually sarcastic and standoffish towards the rest of the town. Belinay clarified that while Ismene could be civil and calm, she seemed to only care whether or not someone had business with her and only came into town for orders or to get things she needed, otherwise she remained at home or would go off foraging all day. Many in town, with the exception of Oz and his father, had come to accept this attitude and gave Ismene the space she desired.

Belinay sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, I love Ismene but she has the bedside manner of a wet cat at best. The town only tolerates it since she’s the only apothecary and herbalist that Medina has. Without her skills, none of us would know how to create medicines to treat illnesses very well.”

Although Russ didn’t ask why, Belinay suddenly offered her theory as to why Ismene was so acerbic and contrarian.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about her parents,” Belinay remarked. She went on to say that her mother told her once that Ismene’s grandmother was less than happy with the Elder about the failure of the coup and Ismene clearly had picked up that attitude.

Russ didn’t really see this side of Ismene when it was just the two of them. Ismene wasn’t really that sarcastic. Blunt maybe, but she was genuinely caring and accepted him for who he was. This included his ‘irrational hatred’ of oranges, as she teased him when he declared there was no way she could convince him to try a slice of the fruit.

“I mean, she wasn’t the only one who lost someone that day, but everyone else has accepted what happened,” Belinay suddenly added, clacking her beak slightly.

Something about Belinay’s comment irritated Russ. He frowned and wanted to defend Ismene but his words failed him. Instead he sighed, nodded, and thanked Belinay for the tea sapling before the Kotengu departed back for town.

When Ismene returned, Russ showed her the sapling and told her how Belinay had given it to him. Ismene eyed the plant and smirked, telling Russ the thing would be his responsibility as she slithered over to her bookshelf and picked out two books. As she handed Russ the books, both about plant care and tea, she noted he better start studying if he wanted to keep it.

Russ smiled softly before looking pensive. He looked down at the books and told Ismene what Belinay had said after giving him the sapling. Ismene confirmed that she knew of her reputation and generally preferred to be left alone unless someone needed medicine before asking Russ why he brought the topic up.

“I guess… I mean I know the Elder told you to keep me but I was wondering why you let me stay with you?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Ismene snapped, sounding genuinely offended that she’d consider any other option. “It’s not ‘letting you stay’, it’s doing the right thing. Honestly, you should be asking yourself why no one else offered to take you off my hands if I’m such an awful Mystic who wants to be alone.”

Ismene looked like she was about to say something else but instead she scoffed and slithered over to the kitchen where she proceeded to make herself some coffee. After an awkward moment of silence, she spoke up.

“Russ, I don’t have time for bullshit,” she sighed. “I know I’m not the only one who lost family that day but everyone acts like I should move on with my life like I didn’t lose both of my parents. Who says that to a child? Some even think I should be happy they tried to fight for our future.”

“I do my job because I really do like helping others,” she added as she poured her coffee. “I just can’t do small talk and I don’t want platitudes or to be shamed by others for feeling how I do about losing my parents.”

Russ nodded. He told Ismene that he felt the same way. He preferred to be straightforward when it came to conversation and he didn’t enjoy small talk either. He thanked her for giving him somewhere to stay, saying he was glad it was her who found him. Ismene smiled ever so slightly. It was the first time Russ had seen her smile since they met. He hoped, in that moment, that he could make her smile more.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Priest x GN! Reader

Another part to my yandere supernatural harem. Masterlist here

Story has some Christian themes, but is not completely based from them

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: light body horror, character injury, briefly mentioned non consensual kiss, religious themes

Biting. Clawing. Tearing. The only thing he could remember. Talons piercing his skin, teeth on the vital arteries beneath – bursting under each individual fang. A robbery gone wrong had led this man to a fate crueler than death; a vicious beast spawned right before his eyes with a single mission in its mind, to make him feel absolute anguish. Lying on the cold earth. No one to comfort him in his final moments, unlike the person he’d harmed. Light fading-

He wakes up. The room is cold, he’s cold. He holds himself, memories flooding back to conscious mind. It felt better than where he had been moments before – anything did. He looked around the room. It looked empty, but something was there. He could feel it.

“Good evening.”

He turns. Someone stares from the shadows of the room. Bandaged hands clasp tightly over their lap, one looser than the other.

“W..who the fuck are you?”

“No need for that kind of language. I’m just here to ask a few questions. You know, when you died they said it looked like a bear had mauled you, but there isn’t any place where one could’ve come from for miles.”

He swallowed.

“But I’m not here for that. I want to know more about a friend of yours.”

-

A tall figure looms over you, hand gripping the blankets wrapped snugly around your body. The presence was suffocating; like said hand was slowly reaching for your neck. It instead hooks onto your blankets and tears them from your arms in one swift move.

“Good morning, Y/n!”

You groan, sitting up to meet the blank, yet bright eyed angel by your bedside. The enormous smile on his face pulls even further; meaning you had yet to rid the sleep from your eyes. 

“Isn’t it like… 9:00am.”

He chuckles. “No, eight actually. Did you forget our plans for the day?”

You groan louder. A grim reaper, demon, and your very own guardian angel. Pains in your side for the majority of their stay, who’s thorns you were finally getting used to. With the couple rules you had in place already, another few had been added to the pile; namely in the comfort of your fellow housemates. One day of every weekend, each one of them would get a day without you; with the final weekend of the month being for yourself – which went about as well as one could imagine. The reaper and demon had already had their turn for the month, and so now it was the angel’s turn. 

The thought had been brewing in Alasdair’s mind for a while. He had heard, and even read, of the various religions on earth; but knew little beyond average knowledge. During his time in heaven, he carried little about the human realm, until he met you; developing an interest in the cultures to benefit you both. For his day with you, he asked if you would join him in visiting a church; which you reluctantly agreed to. It was more toned down than racing shopping carts through grocery store aisles and had more to it than just relaxing on the couch – not that you really had a problem with either. 

“Come on, we’ll be late if you don’t get up.” Alasdair pulls the blankets further from your grasp and helps you up. You shower and put on your Sunday best; him already ready to head out. With a formal suit and tie being eighty percent of his wardrobe, you didn’t expect him to have to do much to prepare anyway. You say your goodbyes to the other two and head out.

-

The building was an elegant structure. Faded white bricks made up its walls; a tall tower stuck to the hip of the main building – a silver cross upon its peak and along the edges of the center place. Tinted glass surrounded each window; a large circulator panel over tall, oak wood doors standing out above the otherwise rectangular glass. The twin doors stand propped open for the day’s service; faint light at the end of the altar glowing ominously – like distant flames of a furnace.  The smell of herbs and burning candle wax hit strong as you enter; both you and Alasdair sitting in pews at the very back of the church.

The interior was even more marvelous. Cream colored walls basked in a warm light from lanterns; 

Moments after you settle down, a man walks up to the podium before the altar. Specs of grey salts his shoulder length, champagne hair colored; a single green eye visible through the unkempt mane – smiling cordially at the crowd below. Bandaged poke from the collar of his black robes to the sleeves; small scars dawning his pale knuckles. He places his hand on the surface of the podium, surveying the room with a quick sweep as the kind smile from his eye spreads to his lips. In the very last second his gaze washed over the room, you could have sworn he took a double glance at you.

“Friends, family, newcomers. We thank you all for joining us on another glorious day that the lord has given us. Let us join in faith and allow him to guide us in his glory to a brighter light.”

After the morning prayer, he begins to read off scripture verse from the Bible. Alasdair seems completely encapsulated in the words of the priest, but you couldn’t shake the familiar feeling of being watched. 

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their home and confidence.”

Once service ends, you and Alasdair prepare to leave. If you hurried, there was time to get a bit more reset before the next activity of the day. Before you could make it to the exit, footsteps click to a halt on the checkered floor behind you. 

“Good day.”

You turn. The priest stands before you, arms tucked behind his back with a grin plastered to his face. It felt – different from the one he gave before. More genuine than before, yet eerie at the same time.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you two before. It’s always nice to have young new faces.”

Alasdair extends a hand, and a friendly smile. “Alasdair, and this is Y/n.”

Basically ignoring Alasdair, the priest turns his focus to you, offering his palm to you instead. “Father Aiken. It’s a pleasure.” 

You hesitantly shake it. His grip is firm; the gesture lasting a few seconds longer than needed. He stares you down, calloused fingers deep in your palm – the pulse beneath almost palpable. He lets go and returns his hand to its original position. 

“Our doors are always open. Come by anytime.” He nods in Alasdair’s general direction before heading off. You decide to leave without questioning it any further. 

On the way home, you strike up a conversation with Alasdair. 

“So.. what did you think?”

“It was.. an interest. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but before we met I paid little attention to your kind. It’s quite the experience to hear more about your beliefs in our creator.” He furrowed his brows. “But that man seemed.. off.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Every being gives off some kind of aura, even us angels. They could be factors in your race, or measures of your moral code like with you humans. Aiken didn’t have one at all. The only other time I’ve seen this is with…” He shakes his head.” ah, it’s probably nothing to worry about. Did you have a good time, Y/n?”

“It was alright… Would you go again?”

“I’m honestly not sure."

-

Days go by and you pretty much push the encounter to the back of your mind. You head out with Baron one day to pick up a couple things from the grocery store; the demon fortunately in human form as he rushed through the isles like a bat out of hell. With him off on his own, you venture elsewhere to find your personal wares. As you search the many shelves, a familiar voice calls from over your shoulder.

“Y/n?”

Looking back, you see Father Aiken; dressed in a casual outfit of a sweater and pants – shopping basket in one hand. It was easier to see the cloth wrapped around his body in the looser clothing; discolored poking from their length. He places his hand over his chest as he lets out a soft gasp.

“Ah, I thought it was you, my dear. How are you on this fine afternoon?”

“Not bad. How about you, Father?”

“Oh please, call me Jeremiah. No need for formalities. I didn’t see you at our last service. I don’t mean to pry, but will you ever return?”

You crack a nervous smile. “Sorry… I’ve just been busy with.. things-"

He frowns a bit. “Ah well, that's unfortunate. Excuse me.”

Jeremiah goes to grab something from the shelf beside your head, only for it to slip from his grasp and class to the ground. Being closer, you kneel to pick it up; yet he does the same. His hand glides over yours, but instead of pulling back he grabs it. You attempt to worm free, but he strokes the back of your palm as he squeezes your hand. 

“I knew it… You’ve been through so much haven’t you, Y/n?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have troubles. Ones you can’t talk about with others. Haunted by foolish mistakes.” 

You clench your jaw; looking towards the ground – his smile grows. 

“Please stop by this weekend. We’re having a baptism, and I’d love to get to speak with you more.

He lets you go, standing up right as Baron turns the corner with the shopping cart. The two share a passing glance, but Jeremiah leaves. Baron rushes over to you.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good…”

-

You get dressed for the service before either of your bedmates wake up – or so you thought. As you leave the bathroom, Alasdair stands near the doorway waiting.

“Are you heading somewhere, Y/n?”

“Nowhere specific. Just heading out.” You reply, avoiding eye contact. 

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you sure-"

“Yes.” As comfortable as you were getting with them around, there were always times you felt suffocated by their constant attention – maybe that’s why you were going where you were now. Alasdair drops the subject, a thin frown on his face. You squeeze past him and exit the room. He looks over at Baron who had been woken by fuss. 

“It looks like I’ll be heading out too.” 

-

The service goes on without a hitch. At its end, Jeremiah calls forth a young male sitting in the front row. The pair stand before a small fountain, the waters within giving of a golden light; though hard to tell whether it was from the lights above or the bowl. The man kneels, Jeremiah dipping his palm into the cool waters. He swipes his hand over the man’s forehead as he speaks.

“Today we acknowledge the death of your old self and the professions of faith. You have been raised to a new life along the path of your worship, and in the name of the Holy Lord I now baptize you.”

He brings his finger down in the opposite direction, helping the man to his feet afterwards. The service lets out soon after that and he walks to you, sitting beside you as the final person leaves. He gently places his hand on your leg. 

“You came. I’m glad.”

“What did you mean.. back at the store?”

He exhales. “You are a very special person, Y/n. I could see that even during our first meeting, and I can also see what’s been shackled to you for many months. Powerful entities that barely leave you with a breath to spare. Am I wrong?”

You sigh. “Not completely.”

“It seems you’ve grown attached to them as well, and that’s understandable, but the best course of action might be to let it all go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Give yourself over to faith, Y/n. By my hand, and the lord’s, we can help you find eternal peace. You can live without a single worry.”

You look away. Sure, the group was a pain, but they had grown on you – just like he said. The times of you wanting to get completely rid of them were in the past, but sometimes they still came into question. The multiple times you escaped near death had worn you down. Many things had. Everything he had said sounded ridiculous, but so much of your life up to this point had been as well.

“I don’t know about that.”

Jeremiah smiles warmly. “It’s alright, my dear. We all need time before tough choices. I’ll expect you next week.”

-

Alasdair watches you from behind a pillar, heart sunken at the defeat in your eyes. He eases past and to a door at the end of the hall – Jeremiah's office. It’s what you’d typically expect to see in such a place. A fan in one corner, calendar and various religious tapestries along the walls – desk in the center of the room. He goes over to it, searching the drawers for any information. The first few are empty, yet the final catches his eye. It has a lock; broken like wet tissue paper with enough force. At first all he sees is papers that seem unimportant at first, until he stumbles across a photo. One of you.

There’s more beneath. Ones of you at work; on the way home – inside your house. Dates written in red ink are printed on the back. He looks over the papers once more. Upon second glance; he realizes they ate schedules of your habits – likely looking for the right moment you’d be alone. As if it couldn’t get worse,, the final item in the drawer chills him to the core. It was a bone. The wing bone of a bird.

-

You return home hours later. It was actually nice to take to another human for a little while. Your conversation derailed from your problems and to average questions about the day – like something friends would have. The second you unlock the door, hands grip your shoulders and pull you in like the talons of a hawk.

“Where. Were. You.”

Alasdair’s stare is unlike anything you’ve never seen. Unhinged, panicked. He holds onto your like you’d slip through the cracks if he let go. It almost hurt.

“I went to church. Is that a crime?”

“Stay away from that man. He’s not safe to be around.”

“He seems fine to me. Let go- that hurts!”

He immediately lets you go at the announcement of your discomfort, not realizing he had been unintentionally clamping down on your shoulder. The surface is red, throbbing. The anger and fear in him instantly turns into guilt.

“I.. I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. That’s what we all want.”

You bit your lip; bite back what you have to say. When was it your turn to get what you wanted? These people have forced their way into your life, and while you made your peace with it; you longed for a taste of your life before. The silence. 

“Promise me that you won’t go back.”

“I promise…

“Look at me and say it.”

You stare him in the eyes. “I promise I won’t go back.”

-

You wake at the crack of dawn, far before anyone else. You had slept that night with Maddox to further throw off suspicion. They were nestled in the corner of the couch, practically swallowed by it to give you as much space as they could. He had a look of utter contentment on his face. He always did when you slept with him. You replace your body with one of the arm pillows and leave; unaware of the eyes from the shadows.

-

The sun barely peaks over the horizon as you make it to the church. You planned on just camping out, but find the doors to be unlocked as you test them to make sure. The building is even creepier in the early hours. An empty husk of it could be; pews empty except for the silent wind. You see a figure at the end of the walkway and take a few steps forward; taking note of how it was a few inches taller than Jeremiah as you neared, and wearing less baggy, more formal clothes. 

“You lied to me, Y/n.”

Alasdair glares down at you, closing the distance. He doesn’t let you make your case; grabbing your wrist as he heads to the exit. “We’re leaving.”

“I just wanted to give him an answer.”

“He doesn’t deserve any of your time, forget him.”

“You don’t understand…”

He grabs your other wrist, forcing you to look at him as he halts in the middle of the aisle; fear and trepidation clear on his face. Something you’ve only seen once before. “No, Y/n, you don’t understand. That man has been watching you. He’s been killing ange-" 

Halfway through his sentence, something pierces Alasdair’s chest. His eyes meet yours, golden blood dribbling over his lips. The item removes itself from the cavity; his body slumping backwards. His hands still hold onto you, lightly pushing you away – almost telling you to run instead of it being the force of his limbs growing slack. As he collapses to the floor, you see the cause of the damage – blood dancing along the thin fingers of a bandaged hand.

You had seen Alasdair get hurt before. You were cutting something, and dropped the knife. He grabbed it, blade first with his bare hand – not even a drop of blood falling from the wound. Just an empty void in his palm.

“It’s alright, Y/n. There’s nothing man-made that can hurt me.”

“A pest this one was. Most of his kind are. Ah well, this was bound to be his fate someday.”

Jeremiah brings his hand to his face, licking the blood from each individual finger. As if only noticing you once he finished the cruel act, he grins.

“Hello, my dear.”

You trembled; legs geared to flee, yet remained stiff as stone. He steps on Alasdair’s sprawled out hand as he walks towards you.

“I’m very happy to see you again, Y/n~”

You stare past him, at Alasdair’s body; the blood circling him like tar. “H…how?”

“Growing up God, my family was extremely religious , even in the toughest hour. I tried my hardest to follow behind, but even then I knew the truth. God abandoned us, Y/n.”

You look in his direction.

“Did he ever tell you that? It’s the first thing those like him say.  Blindlessly following orders from something that hasn’t been heard from in years. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, farther than humanly possibly. “Do you know why?”

“It’s because he’s dead.” 

The bandages around his neck and arms fall; like whatever lies beneath was too much to keep wrapped. The skin under is raw, fleshy; pinkish like the muscles beneath – bulging off his body like a virus. Eyes tear through the mesh; blink starred, half lidded. The “flesh” drips over his left arm, its length and combining his fingers into a singular mass. Through the strands of his hair, his other eye becomes visible. Eyes to paint a better picture. Another eye had squeezed itself into the socket; iris yellow in color and surrounded by small rings. 

“And I’m his replacement.”

“A..are you saying that you…”

“Killed God? Heaven’s no, silly! I merely found his corpse and ate it. I suspect the lazy bastard died sometime after the creation of man.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re killing angels.” 

“Not just angels. Anything that stands in my way. Humans are terribly flawed, Y/n. A majority of us worship a corpse for Christ’s sake! I’ll be what he failed to be. A Shepherd for humanity and bring it to its most prosperous hour. The light at the end of the tunnel. But none of that can be done, without you.”

He brings his hand up to your face, gently stroking your cheek. The limb is hot, almost unbearably so. He gives you the same warm smile he always had.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, Y/n.. You’ve brought so many from beyond the veil to your doorstep when you’re what some would call an average person. I’ve been watching you, unsure what I should do with someone like you; but overtime I’ve come to see what those vermin have as well. You’re an extraordinary being with the will to go on after so much pain. What many have lost the will to do. You make me feel something I haven’t been in ages… human.”

He presses his lips to yours, locking you in a kiss with his hand to the back of your neck. Alasdair’s blood still clings to his bottom lip. He pulls away with a look of amazement. 

“What a rush! Ah, I’ve missed feeling things like this. You’re the only one who can ground me to this reality, make sure I keep the one thing I lost so long ago. I was planning on taking you myself, but since you came on your own I knew our courtship was meant to be.  You feel the same way… right?~”

You don’t say anything. No words come to mind. Everything feels numb. You still look past him, at the body on the ground below. The blood rushes to your head. You’re unable to feel his tremendous gaze; the scream that echoes through the church’s hall – how your body falls from his grasp and unto the arms of another.

Maddox carries you in their arms away from the building; Baron close by with Alasdair’s limp form over his shoulders. Jeremiah is nowhere to be seen. Time feels like it’s going by at a crawl. You hear the faint tick of a clock as Maddox's skeletal hands drag you away from the scene. He looks down at you, expression unreadable as he covers your eyes with his free palm.

-

Upon returning home, Baron carries Alasdair to the bedroom to tend to his wounds. “He’s still warm.” Is all he gave you. Maddox stays with you on the couch, holding your shaking hands; your head in the crook of his neck. 

“He’ll be okay.” He tries, but you knew that neither of you knew if that was true. Though your memories were a haze after that final moment, you remember the last thing Jeremiah said to you.

“See you, soon…”

[cheerscoops]

Coffee Cups and Unconditional Love

Summary: Wayne Munson has been there for his nephew since before he was born, and he'll be there for him for the rest of his life - a.k.a. an explanation of why Wayne Munson owns so many coffee mugs as told through his relationship with his nephew

CW/TW: alcoholism, mentions of child neglect, death, illegal activities, dismissal of mental health issues because it's the 70s/80s, season 4 spoilers if you haven't finished yet

Word Count: 17.6k

A/N: I'm just gonna apologize in advance for this one. It was a labor of love, and I hurt my own feelings writing it.

April 1965

Wayne Munson was a simple man with simple tastes. It didn't take much to make him happy. A couple cigarettes from his pack of smokes, a cold beer, and a working radio were the only things he needed to unwind after a long shift at the plant. He mostly lived off of TV dinners, cold sandwiches, and cereal, and that was fine with him. He had never been the greatest cook, and not wasting his time in the kitchen gave him more energy for work anyway.

At the age of twenty-three, he only had a few more payments left to make on his trailer before he owned it outright, and he had a foldout bed for his younger brother Richard to use when things weren't going so great with their parents. He'd made it clear that his home was always open to him, no questions asked.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't surprised to find his brother and a crying girl sitting on his front step when he got back from the grocery store.

Wayne was a man of few words, and the few he did have did not equip him with the skills to handle a clearly distraught, sixteen year old girl. He and his brother exchanged a look before he wordlessly ushered the two inside.

He put on a fresh pot of coffee before busying himself with putting away his groceries, occasionally glancing over to where his brother was attempting to calm down the crying girl on his sofa.

"Everything is gonna be okay, Linda," he heard his brother say. "Wayne'll know what to do."

Once his groceries were put away and the coffee was finished brewing, he realized that he only had the one coffee mug. He found a couple of plastic juice cups in the back of one of his cabinets and poured the coffee into those and the lone mug. He set the mug in front of the girl and then handed one of the cups to his brother. He held his own cup as he sat down in the chair across from the couch.

Before he could ask what in the world was going on, the girl gave him a funny look.

“Where are your other mugs?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I’ve only got the one,” he replied.

“Who only owns one coffee mug?”

Wayne shrugged.

“My mother owns three entertaining sets in different patterns with eight mugs a piece. I can’t imagine someone only having one mug.”

She sniffled a bit, but it seemed as though she’d stopped crying for now.

“Don’t really need more than one when you live alone,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, does someone wanna tell me why you were crying on my porch?”

Wayne looked back and forth between the two as they shared a look, both hesitant to come right out and say it.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Richie.”

“Linda’s pregnant,” Richie blurted out as he started talking a mile a minute. “We didn’t plan for it to happen or anything, but it did. And then her parents found out, and all hell broke loose. You shoulda heard what they said about me, Wayne. About us. About our family.”

Even without being there, Wayne could imagine it pretty perfectly. Their parents weren’t exactly the greatest people, and there was a reason he’d left home as soon as he could, a reason why he had a spare bed specifically for his brother. Their dad was a mean drunk and took it out on everyone around him. The neighbors would hear him yelling, and the next morning, broken furniture would be sitting on the curb waiting for the next garbage pickup. Their mom just made excuses for him and watched as it happened. A bystander in her own life sweeping up broken glass and scrubbing beer stains out of the carpet. They weren’t exactly the kind of family that you’d want your daughter to involve herself with. Wayne had some firsthand experience with that fact.

“It was just awful,” Linda said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “They told me I could either stay with my cousins in Kentucky until I had the baby and gave it up, or I could get out of their house. So, I got up, and I marched out with Richie.”

“I didn’t know where else to take her,” Richie continued. “There’s no way I’d leave her at mom and dad’s, and I just panicked and brought her here. We could help pay your bills or buy groceries or anything else you need. I got that job that I was telling you about - the one as a bag boy down at the grocery store.”

“And I’m going to pick up as many extra shifts at the diner as I can until I’m too pregnant to work,” Linda added, talking over Richie. “And we’ll help out around here with anything you need. You’ll barely even know we’re here.”

Wayne ran a hand over the back of his neck and abandoned his coffee on the table.

“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked. “You’re gonna need stuff if you’re moving in.”

“They didn’t give me time to pack when they threw me out,” she replied. “But I still have my house key, so Richie was going to take me back over there to get my things tomorrow when I know they’re both out of the house.”

“And I was gonna head over and grab my own stuff after we talked to you,” Richie continued. “Didn’t want to show up here with a bunch of stuff if we were gonna have to go somewhere else. I figured she could use the fold out I usually sleep on, and I can sleep on the couch.”

“No, you’ll take my room,” Wayne said as he moved to get up from his seat. “I’ll be fine out here. Just gotta straighten it up a little bit for you.”

Before he could leave the room, Wayne was practically knocked over by the force of Linda leaping up to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said.

He awkwardly patted her on the back.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “I’d do anything for my brother.”

The next day, Wayne busied himself with getting his room ready for Linda and Richie to move into while they were out collecting Linda’s things. When the couple returned, Linda handed a brown paper bag to Wayne.

“These are for you,” she said with a smile. “A little thank you for all that you’re doing for us.”

Wayne opened the bag, and inside, he found three different coffee mugs - one dark green, one light blue with pink rosettes, and one yellow and white striped.

“I snagged a mug from each of my mother’s entertaining sets. It’ll drive her nuts, and now you have enough mugs for us all to have a cup of coffee. Everybody wins.”

The gift of coffee mugs wasn’t the only way Linda started to improve his life. She actively scolded him about the way he’d been eating and told him that she was going to fix his diet even if it killed her in the process. And so his TV dinners were reserved for the nights when Linda was working the dinner shift at the diner and hadn’t planned for leftovers that Wayne and Richie could easily reheat on their own.

She’d promised that he’d barely even know that they were there, but she made her loving presence known.

October 1965

Wayne ducked out of his shift at the plant several hours early when he got the call that Linda had gone into labor. His brother wanted him there for support, and he wanted to meet his niece or nephew the second they were born, so he was happy to do it. He sat in the waiting room for hours until his brother came to grab him.

“Ready to meet your nephew?” Richie asked him as they entered the hospital room.

Wayne’s attention was immediately drawn to Linda sitting up in bed cradling her tiny son. She was sweaty, and her wavy, dark hair was even messier than it normally was, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look happier in the six months he’d known her.

“Do you want to hold him?” Linda asked, never looking away from the baby in her arms.

Wayne nodded and made his way to sit in one of the chairs by her bed. Richie carefully took the baby from his girlfriend’s arms and placed him in Wayne’s awaiting hold.

“Wayne, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is your Uncle Wayne.”

"Hey Eddie," Wayne whispered, as he cradled the newborn. "It's nice to meet you."

"His full name is Edward Wayne Munson," Linda said, causing Wayne's gaze to snap up from the baby in his arms to look over at her.

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

Wayne's heart swelled, and he would have been lying if he said that he didn't get a bit choked up.

Wayne was often awake with Linda during the late night feedings. With Richie still going to school and working extra shifts whenever he could to support his little family, he needed all the sleep he could get, so Linda would take Eddie into the living room whenever he got fussy.

"Are you sure this is alright?" she'd asked the first time she accidentally woke him up.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "I've always been more of a night owl anyway."

So the two would sit together at the tiny kitchen table as Linda fed her son, a light blanket draped over her chest to protect her modesty. Not that Wayne would have ever stared at his brother's girl. He'd come to think of her as the sister he never had, and he was fiercely protective of her. He'd make her tea, and she'd tease him about how nice it was to have more than one mug to share between them.

"If I didn't steal my mother's mugs, we wouldn't be able to have nights like these," she said. "And wouldn't that be a shame?"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" he asked with a small laugh.

"The handle was chipped, Wayne. You only had one mug, and it wasn't even in good condition."

"I've never needed much."

"Well, you'll never have to drink out of a chipped mug again. I'll make sure of it."

On the nights where Eddie was particularly fussy and wouldn't go back to sleep after being fed and changed, Linda would move over to the couch and pass the baby over to Wayne. Wayne would sit in the worn out rocking chair that he'd picked up at the Goodwill, and he'd slowly rock with him as she made herself comfortable. By the dim light of the lamp on the end table, she'd read aloud from her beat up copies of the Lord of the Rings novels, and Eddie would fall asleep to the daring adventures of hobbits and elves with his uncle’s finger in his grasp.

December 1965

Eddie was only a little bit over two months old for his first Christmas, and he could barely hold his own head up, but Linda still went over the top to make it as special as she could on her limited budget.

They couldn’t afford to get Eddie’s photo professionally taken with the Santa at the big department store in the city. It was just too expensive if she wanted to put any gifts under the modest tree that they were all pretty sure Richie had chopped down illegally. Instead, she placed her son in the Christmas stocking that she’d found at Goodwill and stitched his name onto and had Wayne take pictures of him with his beat up polaroid camera. They didn’t have anyone that they wanted to send the pictures to, so every single one was hung up on the refrigerator until Linda decided it was time to add them to her photo album.

“Next year, I want pictures of him playing in the snow,” Linda said as she looked at the collage of photos on their fridge. “And I’m getting a picture of him with Santa even if I have to force one of you to dress up to make it happen.”

On Christmas morning, the three of them sat in a circle on the floor in front of the tree with baby Eddie laying on his stomach in the middle. They all knew that he was too young to know what was going on, but Linda made a point of setting each of Eddie’s gifts in front of him so he could marvel at the brightly colored comics that she’d wrapped them in. There weren’t many presents under the tree, and they were all for Eddie anyway, so everyone was content to sit there with their morning cups of coffee for as long as the baby wasn’t fussy.

“Oh, before I forget,” Linda said as she popped up from her seat leaning against the sofa. She headed back to the bedroom and returned with a small parcel wrapped up in newsprint. She handed it over to Wayne as she sat back down and pulled her son into her lap.

“I thought we agreed on no gifts?” Wayne asked. “Save all our money to make things special for the kid?”

“It’s not from me,” Linda said as Eddie gripped her finger. “It’s from Eddie, of course, and you can’t expect him to follow our rules. He’s just a baby after all.”

Wayne sighed and carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside the crumpled newspaper was a coffee mug with “World’s Best Uncle” hand-painted on the side along with a bright blue baby handprint of Eddie’s.

“It’s not much,” Richie said. “But we hope it shows even a little bit of how thankful we are for everything you’ve done for us.”

“It’s perfect,” Wayne replied. “Really. Thank you.”

April 1967

For Wayne’s twenty-fifth birthday, he insisted that he didn’t need any gifts, and he didn’t want them to make any sort of a fuss over him.

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” Linda told him. “We can’t just skip your birthday.”

“I’m happy with what I have,” he said with a shrug. “We don’t need to bring more stuff into this trailer, and I’d much rather just spend the day playing with Eddie and maybe listen to the ball game on the radio if there is one.”

“That’s fine, I guess. But I’m making you your favorite dinner. And a cake. I’ll maybe even get some ice cream to go with it. And we’re singing to you while wearing party hats made out of newspaper whether you like it or not. It’s been decided, and I will not fight with you on this one, Wayne.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a laugh.

So, on his birthday, Linda made a pot roast slow roasted with carrots and onions and a side of mashed potatoes with extra, extra gravy. For dessert, there was a double chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting and strawberry ice cream. Wayne didn’t fight about the newspaper hat that Linda made him wear, and he pretended that he didn’t hate being the center of attention when they all sang to him if only because he got to hold Eddie while it was happening. The eighteen month old tried to feed him a handful of cake before shoving it in his own mouth and giggling wildly.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Linda set a small gift in front of him. He knew what it was without even opening it. Every time she thought of giving him a gift, it was a coffee mug, and he had started giving the same to her. They’d started an almost competition of sorts, seeing who could find the most interesting mug at Goodwill or one of the small thrift stores in the city. This one was beige and had the words Ohio University Grandma printed in green on the side. It might have been the best one yet.

“We have something else for you,” Richie told him after sharing a look with Linda. “A gift we couldn’t really wrap.”

“I expected the mug, but I told you guys that you didn’t have to give me anything.”

“We know, but this is a really important gift,” his brother continued. “We’re giving you your bedroom back.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind sleeping in the living room. We’ve been over this a hundred times. You need your privacy more than I do, and with the kid, you need the extra space.”

“We know that’s how you feel, Wayne,” Linda said. “But it’s time for you to start sleeping on a real bed again.”

“Which is why we’re moving out,” Richie blurted out.

“You’ve been so good to us these past two years,” Linda continued. “And we are so grateful for everything you’ve done for us and the life you helped us build. It’s because of everything that you did that we know we’re ready to take this step.”

“I finally grew a pair and asked her to marry me, and we found an apartment that’ll be ready for us to move into next month. It’s not going to be easy, but we’re excited. Really excited.”

“Well, I’m really happy for you guys,” Wayne told them. “Truly. But you’re gonna leave the kid with me, right? I’m way too attached to him to let him leave.”

As if agreeing with Wayne, Eddie reached up and pressed a sticky, chocolate-covered hand onto his uncle’s cheek. Wayne dug his fingers into the boy’s side and smiled down at him as he giggled and squirmed.

“I don’t know,” Linda said. “I think I’d miss him too much.” 

She looked at her son as if he was the whole world, and to her, he probably was.

“You’re probably right.”

“But you’ll still see us all the time,” she promised. “We’ll be over here bothering you every chance that we get, and as soon as we’re settled into our place, we’ll be having you over for dinner every single Sunday night. You’ll get sick of us and be longing for some peace and quiet before you know it.”

Wayne didn’t know how to tell them he didn’t need peace and quiet anymore. He’d grown used to coming home from work to see his nephew playing in the living room and laughing as he toddled around the trailer. He was used to Linda singing loudly and off-key along with every song on the radio as she busied herself in the kitchen. He was used to his brother cracking jokes and making loud comments about every single sport he watched on TV. He was used to there being too many people in his tiny trailer, and he didn’t want that to change.

But he was proud of them. So extraordinarily proud of the two of them and the life they were building together. In the past two years, he’d watched them grow from a couple of scared kids into the loving parents that neither of them had ever had themselves. It would hurt to live apart from them, but he knew that it was what was best for all of them.

May 1970

“Munson residence,” Wayne said as he answered his ringing phone.

“Wayne, it’s Linda,” the voice on the other end of the phone replied.

“I was just about to head over to your apartment. Need me to pick up anything on my way?” 

It wasn’t unusual for Linda to ask him to pick up something on the way to dinner. Especially now that she was in college. She’d gotten her GED the year before and was about to finish her first year of schooling to become a teacher. Now that Eddie was a little older and getting ready to start preschool, she was ready to give up her waitressing job and work towards something more stable that fit better with her life as a young mom. Something that would allow her to be home for his bedtime every night.

“Actually, I was calling to ask you for a different sort of favor. I hate to cancel our dinner so last minute, but Richie got called into work for an extra overnight inventory shift at the grocery store, and I have a huge group presentation for one of my classes due tomorrow. Normally, I would give you more notice, but I was wondering if I could maybe drop Eddie off over there for a sleepover? Richie would be able to pick him up first thing in the morning when he gets off work, and this way I can meet up with my classmates to put the finishing touches on our project. I’d owe you a huge favor.”

“You know he’s always welcome over here. Are you heading over now?”

“In a little bit. I still have to pack an overnight bag for the kiddo. One of the girls from my group is going to pick me up, and then we’ll drop Eddie off with you before we head over to the library.”

“Sounds good to me. See you soon.”

While waiting for his sister-in-law and nephew to show up, Wayne looked through the kitchen to see if he actually had anything that he could feed Eddie for dinner. He hadn’t been expecting to have to cook that night, and he usually did his weekly grocery shopping on Mondays before he came home from work. He supposed he could make the kid a TV dinner if it came down to it, and he maybe had a can of soup or two in the cupboard, but neither were up to the standards of the food that Linda normally made him.

But, when Linda arrived with Eddie, she entered the trailer carrying dinner for them.

“I’d already started cooking before Richie got called into work,” she said as she set the lasagna down on the table. “I knew you wouldn’t have had a solid dinner plan, and I wasn’t going to let two of my favorite boys get stuck eating what I’m sure would have been TV dinners.”

“You know me too well.”

Before Linda could respond, Eddie took a running leap at his uncle who caught him easily.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said as he clung to his uncle’s chest. “We get to have a sleepover! And mama said I can stay up an extra half hour ‘cause it’s a special occasion!”

“She did? Well, that’s a good thing because I was thinking we could have a campout in the living room, and maybe if it’s okay with your mama, we could even make some hot chocolate.”

Eddie shifted in Wayne’s arms to face his mom and fixed her with his best pleading gaze, all puppy dog eyes and pouty bottom lip. The kid had them all wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it.

“How could I say no to this precious face? It’s fine with me,” Linda said with a small laugh at her son’s excitement at her answer.

Wayne set Eddie down on the counter next to the sink.

“Why don’t you wash your hands while I talk to your mama, and then you and I will have some dinner, okay?”

Eddie nodded vigorously and turned on the water, so Wayne turned his attention back to Linda.

“Alright, so bedtime is anywhere between seven thirty and eight tonight. He’s gonna be home with Richie all day tomorrow, and I know it’s going to be a lazy sleepy day anyway, so he’ll get plenty of rest if he doesn’t sleep enough tonight. His pajamas and clothes for tomorrow are in his backpack, but if you don’t have him dressed before he gets picked up, that’s fine, too. If he wants a bedtime story, Peter Pan is his favorite right now, and he usually falls asleep around the second chapter. That’s somewhere in his bag with Mister Lion. I gave him a bath earlier, so you don't need to worry about that, but make sure he brushes his teeth. He will try to convince you that he doesn’t need to, but he wants to be just like his Uncle Wayne, so if you brush your teeth when it’s time for him to, he shouldn’t put up too much of a fight. I don’t think I’m forgetting anything, but it’s not like you’ve never watched him before. You know how to handle my little hellraiser better than anyone.”

She looked over towards her son who was now laying with his stomach flat against the counter as he clapped his hands under the running water repeatedly trying to make the biggest splash he possibly could. She moved to turn off the sink before sitting her son upright on the counter and drying his hands off with the dish towel.

“Were you making a mess of the kitchen, you little stinker?” she teased as she skittered her fingers across her son’s belly.

“No,” he replied through his giggles as he curled in on himself. She stopped tickling him and ruffled his messy curls that matched her own.

“You be good for your Uncle Wayne, okay? Daddy will be here to pick you up first thing in the morning. Now give mama big hugs and kisses.”

Eddie stood up on the counter and flung his arms around Linda’s neck. Once she’d wrapped her arms around the boy, he moved his hands to squish her cheeks as he smothered her with as many kisses as he could give.

“I love you so much, Eddie Bear,” she told him, laughing as he kissed one of her eyes.

“I love you more,” he replied.

“And I love you most.”

She gave him one last big squeeze and kissed his forehead before setting him down on the ground.

“Alright, I’ve kept Sandy waiting out in the car long enough. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Wayne and Eddie had a relatively easy night together. They ate dinner, and Eddie didn’t fuss when Wayne had to wash the sauce off of his face afterwards. He sat at the kitchen table drawing pictures with the crayons and notebook paper they kept at the trailer for him while his uncle cleaned up the kitchen, and he narrated all of his art as he drew. They had the hot chocolate that Wayne promised with extra marshmallows, and there were no complaints about brushing teeth since Wayne was brushing his teeth, too. Wayne set up the foldout bed in the living room with an extra set of sheets and the fuzzy yellow blanket that was Eddie’s favorite. They both changed into their pajamas, and then they read four chapters of Peter Pan before Eddie fell asleep on the couch curled up against his uncle’s side with his fingers threaded through Mister Lion’s mane. Wayne carefully moved the sleeping boy to the bed and placed a kiss on his forehead. He fell asleep on the couch shortly after.

Wayne always woke up at five without an alarm clock no matter what time he went to bed the night before. It was both a blessing and a curse. Being careful to keep quiet enough that he wouldn’t wake Eddie, he made his way to the bathroom to take a quick shower before his brother got there. He didn’t know when his brother would be there, so he wanted to be ready to head to the plant early just in case he’d be racing out the door.

When he was finished getting ready, he headed into the kitchen where he found a very sleepy looking Eddie with the fuzzy, yellow blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was dragging Mister Lion by his tail behind him.

"What are you doing up, Eds? Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Bad dream," Eddie replied, sniffling a little. “‘Mnot scared, but Mister Lion needed a hug.”

Wayne scooped Eddie up, and the boy immediately wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck.

“I got ya, buddy,” he said as he rubbed the boy’s back. “I got ya.”

Wayne continued to hold Eddie as he moved around the kitchen and started his morning coffee. Once he’d poured himself a cup, he headed to sit down on the couch.

“Why don’t you try to get a little more sleep, Eds?” he suggested. “I’ll start making breakfast after I finish my coffee, and then I’ll get you up, okay?”

Eddie nodded a little and moved to curl up next to his uncle on the couch not wanting to stray too far from the comfort that he’d found.

By the time Wayne had finished his coffee and used the little he had left in his kitchen to make some scrambled eggs and toast for the boy, it was close to seven. He had to be at the plant by seven thirty, so he was going to have to call in sick if his brother didn’t show up soon.

Eddie was not a morning person, so it took a few minutes for Wayne to get him up and seated at the table, and when he glanced at the clock on his wall, he knew he wasn’t going to make it to work on time.

“Mr. O’Grady? It’s Wayne Munson,” he started when his boss at the plant finally answered the phone. “I’m gonna be a little late for my shift. I’m watching my nephew. My brother was supposed to pick him up by now, but I’ve still got the kid, and I can’t leave him here alone.”

“It’s fine, Munson,” his boss answered. “In the ten years you’ve worked here, you’ve never taken a vacation, and the only times you’ve ever called off were when your nephew was born and when he broke his wrist last year. Take the day to spend with the kid. Sullivan has been asking for more hours anyway, and I can call him in to cover for you this time.”

“Thanks, Mr. O’Grady,” he said as he lunged to take the ketchup bottle away from Eddie before he could empty the entire thing onto his plate. “I really appreciate it.”

Wayne poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down across from Eddie who was more interested in eating ketchup than the eggs on his plate. He figured that inventory took a little bit longer than expected. The grocery store opened at nine, so they’d have to be done by then, and if his brother wasn’t at the trailer by nine thirty, he’d start calling their apartment.

Nine thirty came and went, and the phone call to Richie and Linda’s apartment went unanswered. The same happened every other time he called between then and noon. Wayne was starting to get worried, but he was trying his best not to let it show. His focus was on Eddie who didn’t seem to mind that he got to spend extra time there.

Finally, when Wayne was getting ready to set the table with the TV dinners that he’d ended up making for their lunch, someone answered the phone at the apartment.

“Hello?”

“Is everything okay over there?” Wayne asked, skipping the pleasantries. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning.”

“Everything’s fine. I was sleeping,” Richie replied. “What time is it?”

“For the love of god, Richie.” Wayne lowered his voice and glanced into the living room to make sure Eddie wasn’t paying attention to him before he continued. “I was starting to think something bad had happened. I called you at least a dozen times. Scared the shit outta me.”

“I’m sorry. I came home from work and passed out immediately. Didn’t hear the phone until just now.”

“But you were supposed to pick up Eddie before you went home.”

“I stopped on the way to change my clothes. Smelled like sweat and pickle juice after someone dropped a box and the shit splattered everywhere. I figured Linda changed her mind and was picking him up since she wasn’t home when I got here.”

“Well, she definitely didn’t come here.”

“She had a group presentation due today, and she was really hounding the other girls to make sure it was perfect. She probably just caught the bus and headed over to campus early. Do you want me to come over and get Eddie?”

“Don’t worry about it. You should get some more sleep. One of you can come and grab him after Linda gets home from class.”

“Are you sure? I know he can be a handful.”

“We’re fine. I’ll take him to the park or something, and he can do my grocery shopping with me. Besides, I just made him lunch, and I kinda like having him around.”

“You wanna keep him?” Richie asked with a laugh.

“Don’t tempt me,” Wayne responded with a laugh of his own. “But I don’t think Linda would be too happy about it.”

“You’re probably right. We’ll give you a call when we’re on our way to get him, okay? Most likely right around dinner time?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After lunch, Wayne finally got Eddie dressed and took him to the playground across town. Since they’d done nothing but sit around the trailer all morning, the kid had a lot of energy to burn, and he chose to burn it by giving his uncle a heart attack every time he went to leap off of something he probably shouldn’t have climbed in the first place. Eventually, he got tired of scaring years off of his uncle’s life, and Wayne agreed to push him on the swings as long as he promised not to jump off of those, too.

Once he’d successfully tired out the kid, Wayne loaded Eddie into his truck and headed to the grocery store. His usual get in, get what he needs, and get out trip took a lot longer than normal with his nephew riding in the cart, but debating about breakfast cereal and lunch meat with a kid who wasn’t even going to be eating them was wildly entertaining. In the end, he only ended up with three things that Eddie had wanted in his cart, and he was taking that as a win.

Standing in the checkout line, Wayne couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the two housewives behind him. He wasn’t one to pay attention to town gossip, but he couldn’t ignore them.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the accident last night,” the first woman said.

“News travels fast in a small town like Hawkins,” the second replied. “It’s a shame really. Those poor girls.”

“Oh, I know. I wonder if they’ve been able to find their families by now. Eleanor said that they weren’t sure who to call.”

“How did Eleanor get so much information about this anyway? It wasn’t in any of the papers today.”

“Her husband was on duty, and you know he went home and told her every detail. The man can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Can you blame him? A drunk driver crashing into a car full of girls leaving the community college library is probably the most exciting thing he’s ever seen working around here. Not that a tragedy is exciting mind you. It’s just more interesting to talk about than the occasional traffic violation.”

Wayne almost dropped the milk that he was holding on the ground. Their conversation meant nothing to him. To him, or his brother, or the little boy who was currently fighting to stay awake in his shopping cart. The fact that no one had seen Linda since last night was merely a coincidence. She was probably at home with Richie right now telling him all about how her presentation went and getting ready to pick up her son. She had to be.

But, when Wayne pulled up to his trailer to find his brother sitting on his front step looking more scared and alone than he had when he came to tell him that Linda was pregnant, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Wayne held Eddie throughout the funeral. Richie was an absolute wreck and could barely hold himself together let alone take care of his son. But he had his older brother to help pick up the pieces, and that was a comfort in such an upsetting time.

Wayne hadn’t expected such a large turnout for the funeral. With the way she lit up every room she entered, the fact that she had had an effect on so many people in her short twenty one years shouldn’t have been a huge surprise. There were groups of girls from all of Linda’s classes, and the diner had closed for the day because all of the waitresses and cooks wanted to be there. There were high school friends who had just arrived home from college, and there were families from their apartment building. All there to pay their respects. The only notable absence was Linda’s own parents. Not that anyone had really expected them to show up anyway. They hadn’t tried to contact her at all in the time since they’d kicked her out, and Wayne would have forced them to leave if they’d tried to show their faces.

After the services, Wayne took Eddie straight back to the apartment. He and Richie had discussed it beforehand, and they figured that the whole situation would be too overwhelming for him. They’d explained to him what had happened in a way that was simple enough for a child to understand, but the boy was still so young and confused about why his mother wasn’t coming home. He didn’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of people he didn’t know talking about what a shame it was that his mother was gone.

So, while his brother stayed behind to receive condolences, Wayne reheated one of the many casseroles people had dropped off at the apartment for them, gave Eddie a bath, and put him to bed. But throughout it all, he couldn’t help but notice that his usually bright and talkative nephew was the most quiet and reserved he’d ever been since he learned how to talk.

When Richie finally came home, he didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the casserole dish that Wayne had left on the counter along with a fork and sat down on the sofa where Wayne was pretending he cared about whatever was on TV.

Without saying anything, Wayne got up and grabbed a drink for his brother. Nothing fancy. Just a glass of the iced tea from the fridge. But there was an unspoken meaning behind it that they both could feel. That Wayne was always going to take care of them and get them what they needed. No matter what, he would always be there.

“Thanks,” Richie said as he accepted the glass. “For everything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne replied. “It’s what I’m here for.”

August 1970

Sunday dinners had remained the norm for the three Munson men, but Linda’s absence was always in the forefront of their minds. Not just because she was the best cook out of the three, but because she was the one who really got them to talk to each other. Wayne and Richie were never big talkers, and she had bridged their gap in communication.

And maybe that was why Wayne had accepted the Sunday overtime shifts that were offered to him. He hated missing the time with his family, but he hated the awkward silences more.

After not attending Sunday dinner for nearly a month, he figured that it was time to start going back. Eddie was starting school soon, and he felt guilty for the time he was missing with the kid. He felt even more guilty once he saw the state of their apartment.

He’d let himself in like he normally did, and the first thing he noticed was his brother passed out on the couch. There were empty beer cans strewn across the floor around him, and the room was in complete disarray. The kitchen wasn’t any better. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, and the trashcan was filled with enough beer cans to show that this probably wasn’t the first time this had happened.

He made his way back to Eddie’s room since the kid was nowhere to be found in the front of the apartment, and he found his nephew happily playing alone. It wasn’t exactly a comforting sight though. While the room was in relatively decent shape, the laundry hamper was overflowing to the point where there were small piles of clothes surrounding it, and there was a distinct odor hanging in the air. But the worst part was Eddie himself. The boy looked dirty. This definitely wasn’t the first day that he’d worn those clothes, and his hair was a tangled mess that obviously hadn’t been washed anytime recently.

“How’s it goin’, Eds?” Wayne asked, finally alerting his nephew to his presence.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie leaped up from his spot on the floor to give his uncle a hug.

As Wayne picked up the boy, he was hit with another wave of that stench, and his suspicions about said stench coming from Eddie were confirmed.

“So, when was the last time you had a bath?” he asked.

“We don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said with a little shrug.

“And I’m guessing you’d have the same answer if I asked why the kitchen isn’t clean?”

“Yep.”

“And why the laundry isn’t done?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know anything?” Wayne teased.

“I know we’re eating TV dinners tonight!” Eddie said, excited that he could tell his uncle something.

“And how do you know that?”

“‘Cause we eat ‘em every night. Daddy puts ‘em on a plate so I won’t know, but he never throws out the box cause he’s too busy sleeping on the couch.”

“Does he do that a lot? Sleep on the couch like that, I mean?”

“Yeah. He’s no good at bedtime anymore.”

Wayne couldn’t tell if he was more heartbroken for his nephew or angry at his brother at that moment. All he knew was that he needed to do something.

“How do you feel about coming over for a sleepover?” Wayne asked. “We haven’t had one of those in awhile, and I miss hanging out with my favorite kid.”

Eddie’s response was an enthusiastic yes, so Wayne set him back down.

“I’m gonna go talk to your daddy, and then we’ll get your stuff ready to go, okay?”

“Okay!”

Part of Wayne wanted to be thankful that at least Eddie still seemed happy. He was okay on the inside even if it was clear that his dad had dropped the ball. But a much larger part of him was consumed by his anger. Angry at his brother for letting his home get this messy. Angry at his brother for clearly not taking care of his child. Angry at his brother for picking up their father’s bad habits.

But, most of all, Wayne was angry at himself for avoiding the awkward silences. If he’d kept going over for Sunday dinners, he would have caught the warning signs sooner. He could have kept things from getting this bad. He could have done something to help, and he was going to live with the guilt of not helping sooner for a very long time.

When Richie didn’t respond to his name or being shaken, Wayne grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and dumped it over his brother’s head.

“What the hell, Wayne?” Richie sputtered as he came to and glared up at his brother.

“Don’t what the hell me,” Wayne replied. He was trying to keep his volume down so Eddie wouldn’t hear them. “It’s barely five o’clock on a Sunday, and you were passed out drunk.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. I shouldn’t have to tell you that with the way we grew up. Do you really want to put your kid through that?”

“I’m not turning into dad.” Richie sat up and laid his head in his hands. “I will never be anything like that man. I’m just not doing the best right now, okay? After everything, I lost my job. Missed too many shifts. It all spiraled from there. I just need some time to get back on my feet so we don’t lose the apartment.”

“You can’t take time when you’ve got Eddie to think about,” Wayne said as he took a seat next to his brother. “I’m bringing him home with me. This isn’t good for him, and you know it.”

“You can’t take my kid away from me.”

“The boy stinks, and I’m guessing he barely has any clean clothes left from what I saw in his room. This place is a wreck, and you don’t seem to care because you’re too busy drinking. He told me all you do is sleep on the couch like you were when I got here.”

Wayne ran a hand over the back of his neck. He hated putting this out there, but he had to open his brother’s eyes, and he didn’t see any other way.

“He starts preschool next week, Richie. If he gets there looking and smelling the way he does now or tells anyone anything about the way you’re living, someone is going to come here and take him away from you. He needs a safe and stable living environment, and this isn’t one right now. So you can either let him come with me while you pull yourself together, and you can still come and see him everyday. Or you can keep living like this, and you could wind up losing him for good. The choice is yours, and one of those options seems a lot better than the other to me.”

“Shit.”

Richie kicked the coffee table in frustration and sent empty beer cans flying.

“So, I can come see him everyday?” he asked after a moment.

“Whenever you want. I promise.”

“Okay . . . I’m not really turning into dad, am I?”

“No. I just think you went through some shit that you’re way too young for, and it made you make some bad choices. You’ve at least acknowledged it, so you’re doing better than he ever did.”

Wayne didn’t wait for a response from his brother. He just grabbed a garbage bag from the cabinet under the sink and headed back to Eddie’s room where he started shoving all of the dirty clothes into the bag.

“You can’t throw away my clothes,” Eddie pouted. “I need those.”

“I’m not throwing them away. I’m gonna do your laundry. Your daddy is awake, so why don’t you go talk to him while I get your stuff ready to go?”

Once Eddie’s clothes were taken care of, Wayne moved around the room grabbing whatever he saw that he thought his nephew would maybe want at his house and loading it into the duffle bag he found under the bed. He took the dinosaurs and toy cars that Eddie had been playing with when he came in. He took the stack of books and photo albums that were sitting on the tiny nightstand by his bed. He even grabbed the toy guitar that he was sure he was going to regret bringing with him. And, of course, he grabbed Mister Lion.

After a quick trip into the bathroom to grab Eddie’s toothbrush and other toiletries, he headed back into the living room where Eddie was giving his dad a goodbye hug.

“You be extra good for your uncle, okay?” Richie said as he pulled away from his son. “And I’ll be over to see you every day.”

“You promise?” Eddie asked.

“Cross my heart.”

Once they were back at the trailer, the first thing Wayne did was give Eddie a bath.

“I thought I didn’t need to do this anymore,” Eddie pouted as his uncle worked the shampoo into his hair.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Eds,” Wayne replied. “You smell, and I can’t have you stinking up my trailer. So, it’s either you take a bath on a regular basis, or you’re sleeping on the porch.”

Eddie looked up at his uncle with wide eyes.

“You’d make me sleep on the porch?

“Never. Which is why we need to get you cleaned up.”

Getting Eddie bathed was the easy part. Tackling the tangled mess of his hair was an entirely different beast. Wayne tried to be as careful as possible as he worked through the knots, but Eddie was especially tender-headed, and his hair was a mess from the neglect, so there were plenty of complaints and tears.

“Mama never made it hurt,” Eddie said between his sniffles.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” Wayne replied. “I’m being as gentle as I can.”

“I miss her.”

“I know. Me, too.”

Wayne made grilled cheese and tomato soup for their dinner. It wasn’t anything special, but it was better than a TV dinner, and he made himself a promise that he’d never feed his nephew one of those for dinner ever again if he could help it. And, after the table was cleared and the dishes were done, he put the kettle on the stove to start heating up some water to make tea for himself and hot chocolate for Eddie.

When Wayne’s mug collection started to outgrow the small cabinet shelf, he’d moved most of them into the living room to put on display, but his favorites were kept in the kitchen for easy use. He pulled out the mug from Eddie’s first Christmas for himself, and then he grabbed Linda’s favorite mug - the light blue one with the pink rosettes - for Eddie. He carefully carried the mugs over to the coffee table before going through the bag of Eddie’s things to find the book he was looking for.

“Hey, Eddie, can you come over here?” he called over to his nephew as he sat down on the couch.

Eddie abandoned his crayons and the picture he was drawing to climb onto the couch with his uncle.

“You were too little to remember it, but did your mama and daddy ever tell you that you all lived here with me when you were a baby?”

“We did?”

“You did. The three of you shared my bedroom, and I slept out here. Whenever you were up at night, your mama would come sit in the kitchen, and we’d have tea together while she fed you. And then, when you still wouldn’t go back to sleep, she’d hand you over to me. We’d sit over here, and she’d read her favorite book to you until you fell asleep in my arms.”

Wayne grabbed the mugs off of the table and passed Eddie’s to him before picking up the copy of The Hobbit that he’d set aside.

“I know you miss your mama, and I know this isn’t the same as having her here, but this is a little piece of her that I can share with you.”

Eddie curled up against his uncle, and they sipped their drinks as Wayne started to read Linda’s most favorite adventure out loud to her son. It wasn’t much, but it was all Wayne could do to make Eddie’s first night in his trailer a little bit easier.

December 1970

Richie had made good on his promise to come and visit every day for the first two months that Eddie was staying with Wayne. But right around Halloween, he started missing days. And then multiple days in a row. It broke Wayne’s heart every time he saw Eddie realize that his dad had forgotten about him again, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Richie had either stopped answering his phone at the apartment, or he was never home no matter what time of day Wayne called. Nor did he answer the door any of the times Wayne dropped by to check on him.

On Christmas Eve, Wayne realized that his brother hadn’t been over to see them since Thanksgiving, and he wasn’t sure if they’d be seeing him at all the next day. Wayne wasn’t going to let his brother’s screw ups ruin the holiday for Eddie though. It was going to be hard enough on him to spend his first Christmas without his mom. He didn’t want the whole day to be miserable.

Wayne had hidden all of Eddie’s gifts from Santa in the cabinet over the fridge - the only cabinet that Eddie hadn’t found a way to climb to yet - and he had gotten a small tree to prop up in the corner. It wasn’t very impressive, but Eddie was all smiles when he got to put the star on top, and that was good enough for him. He’d even picked up everything he needed to make cinnamon french toast for breakfast and a roast for Christmas dinner. It was shaping up to be a fairly decent holiday.

But, when he asked Eddie if he was excited for Santa to visit them that night, he was met with frustrated tears instead of the happiness he’d expected. Wayne stopped what he was doing and went over to where Eddie was sitting on the couch. The boy had tears streaming down his cheeks, and his tiny hands were balled into tight fists.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Wayne asked as he knelt down to get on Eddie’s level.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“I forgot your present, and now it’s too late.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to get me anything. I promise.”

“No, I gotta,” Eddie said as he wiped at his tears. “Mama said it wasn’t special if you didn’t get a mug, and I wanted it to be special.”

Wayne moved to sit on the couch and scooped Eddie up in his arms, allowing the boy to cry into his shoulder and get his feelings out.

“I was going to ask daddy to take me, but he’s never here.”

Wayne could pinpoint a lot of things about his brother that had angered him lately, but he didn’t know if he could ever forgive him for hurting Eddie like this. Still, he didn’t want his nephew to end up hating his dad. When Richie pulled it together, they’d be a family again, and he didn’t want moments like this to sour that.

“It’s my fault, Eds,” Wayne lied as he rubbed Eddie’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “Your daddy gave me some money so you could buy me a Christmas gift and told me that I should take you, and I got so busy with work that I just forgot about it. But if we leave right now, I bet we can make it to the Goodwill in time for you to pick out something real special.”

The opportunity to go present shopping cheered Eddie up immediately, and before Wayne knew it, the boy was pulling at his arm to get him to help grab his coat and shoes.

The Goodwill was still open when they got there, and nobody was inside except for the very bored looking teenager running the cash register.

“Now, you go pick something out, and I’ll wait here until after you’ve paid so whatever you pick can be a surprise,” Wayne said as he handed Eddie a few dollars.

Eddie took the money and wandered off towards where the homegoods were kept, and Wayne busied himself by looking at a rack of kids clothes near the front of the store. He wasn’t necessarily planning on buying anything, but if he could maybe find something decent that would fit Eddie, he might as well look. He only turned his attention back to the checkout counter when he heard his nephew’s voice.

“Excuse me,” Eddie said as he reached up to set his purchase on the counter. The counter was taller than he was, so he had to stretch just a little bit. “I want to buy this as a Christmas gift for my uncle, please. I have my own money and everything.”

“Well, aren’t you the cutest,” the girl working the cash register said as she picked up his mug. “Are you sure this is the one you want to get him though?”

“Yes, it’s the best one.”

“Okay, that’ll be one dollar. And for an extra quarter, I can even put it in one of these fancy gift bags for you if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.” Eddie set his money on the counter and waited as the girl got his change and wrapped his purchase.

“Here you go, sweetie,” the girl said as she handed Eddie his things.

“Thank you! Merry Christmas!”

Eddie raced back over to his uncle, and it was apparent that the tears from earlier were long forgotten.

When Wayne unwrapped his new “Virginia is for Lovers” mug in front of the tree on Christmas morning, he couldn’t contain his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked.

“It’s nothing Eds. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Did I pick a good one then?”

“You picked the best one. I love it.”

And he did. Not just because it was Eddie that gave it to him, but because he knew it was the exact mug Linda would have chosen if she was there.

June 1973

Wayne and Eddie had settled into a routine together. During the school year, Wayne put Eddie on the bus before heading to work, and then he picked him up from after school care on the way home. Wayne made them dinner while Eddie did whatever homework he had to do, and then it was bathtime and books before bed. There wasn’t really enough room for two beds in Wayne’s bedroom, but he’d rearranged the furniture enough that they could just barely fit the fold out bed in his room when Eddie had expressed that he didn’t like sleeping out in the living room alone.

The only difference during the summer was that Eddie went to daycare instead of school. It was a little too expensive, but Wayne was doing his best to make it work.

Richie’s visits were few and far between at this point. They were lucky if he came to visit Eddie once a month, but it was usually a longer absence than that. They didn’t even have a way to contact him when he was gone anymore because he’d lost the apartment, and the only reason they knew he lost the apartment was because he’d told Wayne that if there was anything of Eddie’s still there, he should probably get it before the landlord changed the locks. When Wayne had showed up to grab the rest of Eddie’s toys and books, he’d grabbed the rest of the photo albums and a few of Linda’s things that were still around that he thought Eddie might like to have one day. Richie was supposed to give them his new address and phone number once he’d settled into a new place, but that had been nearly a year ago, and Wayne wasn’t holding his breath. His brother had broken so many promises since Eddie had moved in with Wayne, that he had a hard time believing anything his brother said.

So, when Richie showed up that morning and said that he wanted to take Eddie for the whole day, Wayne couldn’t have been more surprised. Even when Richie did remember to show up, he never spent the whole day with his own kid. But his brother said he had a new job, and he wanted to celebrate with his son. Wayne was reluctant to let it happen, but he knew the kid missed his dad, and if Richie wanted to step up, it would at least give him a chance to get some work done around the trailer without any distractions.

But when they came back around dinner time, Wayne regretted letting them go alone. Physically, Eddie was fine, but they returned in a different car than the one they’d left in. A much nicer car that Wayne knew his brother wouldn’t have been able to afford. He’d heard some rumors about cars getting stolen around Hawkins and getting brought to a chop shop somewhere outside of the town, but he hadn’t given it much thought since no one wanted to steal a car from someone who lived in a trailer park.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said as he climbed out the car and ran to his uncle. “We had the best day!”

“You did?”

“Yeah! First, we went to the arcade, and then we got hot dogs, and after that, dad showed me how I can get any car I want for free!”

“Oh really?” Wayne glanced over at his brother who was leaning against the hood of what Eddie had all but confirmed was definitely a stolen car. “That sounds like a really great day, Eds. Why don’t you go inside and get washed up for dinner while your dad and I have a little chat, okay?”

Wayne waited until Eddie was out of earshot before he walked over to his brother.

“Seriously, Richie? Is that what your new job is? Stealing cars?”

“Lighten up. Do you know how much money I get for each car I bring in? I might actually be able to afford a decent apartment again, and I can quit sleeping on people’s couches. Eddie could even come stay with me.”

“Oh yeah. Sure. Being enmeshed in illegal activities is exactly what every seven year old needs. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Don’t tell me how to raise my son, Wayne. I think I know what I’m doing here.”

“Well, that’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Since when are you the one raising him, Richie? The last time I checked, we haven’t seen you since March.”

“He’s still my son.”

“Then act like it. Because I’m the one who gets him to and from school and makes sure he gets his homework done. I’m the one who makes sure that he’s fed and clothed and has a roof over his head. I’m the one that he cries out for whenever he has a bad dream or he’s sick. And I’m the one who comforts him and distracts him every time you say you’ll be here and then don’t show up because you’re too drunk or you overslept or just forgot and didn’t care. And I am sick of you coming back around for a day and lying to him about how you’re going to be around more often and promising to spend more time with him because every time you break that promise, his heart breaks all over again. He deserves better than that, and you know it.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t just tell me to shut up when you don’t want to hear the truth, and frankly, I’ve stayed quiet long enough. This is something you should have heard a long time ago.”

“I said shut up.”

“If she could see the way that you’re treating her boy, Linda would be so ashamed of you right now.”

“Fuck you!”

Richie launched up from where he was leaning on the car to post up to his brother. For a minute, Wayne was convinced that Richie was going to take a swing at him from the anger burning in his eyes, but nothing happened.

“You want me to be a better dad? Fine. I’ll be a better dad,” he spat as he stormed toward the trailer door. “We don’t need any help from you anymore.”

Before Wayne knew it, his brother was marching out of the trailer pulling a very confused looking Eddie behind him.

“Say goodbye to your uncle, Eddie,” Richie said as he opened his car door. “You’re not going to be seeing him for a while.”

“Richie, be reasonable.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Wayne. Either I’m the dad that you want me to be, or I leave him here with you. So I’m taking my son, and we’re leaving because I will not stand here and listen to you insult me. And if I ever hear Linda’s name leave your mouth again, that’ll be the last time you ever speak.”

Richie climbed into the car and slammed his door shut. Once Eddie was inside with him, he sped away and out of the trailer park leaving Wayne to spend the night alone for the first time in years.

February 1976

It was after midnight when Wayne got the call. He'd been asleep for a few hours at that point, and he'd been woken up by the phone. At first, he'd tried to ignore the call, but the person on the other end of the line was persistent, so the phone just kept ringing. He stumbled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen to grab the phone.

“Hello?” Wayne answered the phone, his voice hoarse from barely being awake.

“Have we reached Wayne Munson?”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Munson, this is Chief Carver with the Hawkins police department. We currently have your brother in custody down at the station. His bail hasn’t been set just yet, and he declined his one phone call, but I’m calling to inform you that we also have your nephew here. He was asleep in the back of the car when my officers picked up your brother, and we’ve been told that you’re the only other family the boy has. We were hoping to place the child in your care as we’d rather contact family than anyone else in situations like these.”

“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

Wayne didn’t need to hear anything else before he was putting on real pants and racing down to the station. He’d barely seen his brother and nephew since their fight as Richie had cut him out of their lives. He only saw them in passing, but Richie would quickly leave whatever public space they were in when he noticed Wayne was there, too. And even if he had a phone number, he doubted Richie would take his calls. He didn’t want to say that he was afraid of what he’d find when he got there, but he wasn’t expecting anything good.

“I got a call from the chief about my brother,” Wayne said as he walked up to the officer sitting behind the front desk. “I’m supposed to be picking up my nephew.”

“Wayne Munson, right?” the officer asked. “I’ll take you back to see your nephew shortly. Just gotta go over some official business first. You know how it is. Now, your brother will be staying here overnight because we won’t be able to get him arraigned until morning.”

“What is he facing in the way of charges?”

“Well, for starters, he was already wanted for multiple counts of grand theft auto and the possession and selling of stolen merchandise. Tonight, he was picked up on a DUI with multiple traffic violations, expired plates, and child endangerment to sweeten the deal. There was also a startling amount of liquor in the car with him. When he was pulled over, he attempted to assault an officer, and he resisted arrest. We don’t expect you to stay here until he’s arraigned, so we can call you and let you know what his bail is set at after the hearing occurs.”

“Don’t bother,” Wayne replied. “I won’t be posting his bail. All I care about is my nephew. Is he okay?”

“As far as we can tell, the boy is fine. A little shaken up, but okay. He was asleep in the backseat when the car was pulled over, and he only woke up when your brother started to get belligerent. We have reason to believe they were living out of the car from the sheer amount of stuff loaded into the trunk and backseat. Because the car was one of the ones he’s accused of stealing, everything inside it was admitted into evidence. However, we’re hoping someone will be able to sort through it after the weekend, so we can set aside anything that belongs to the boy and get it to you then.”

“Can I see him now? I just want to take him home.”

Finally, the officer led him back to the station’s break room where he found Eddie sitting on the sofa with his knees hugged to his chest.

“Alright, Eddie,” the officer said. “Your uncle is here to take you home.”

Eddie got up from the sofa and headed over towards where they were standing without saying a word. It was the quietest that Wayne had ever seen the boy other than when he was sleeping, and he hated it more than he could say.

Eddie stayed quiet the entire way back to the trailer despite Wayne asking him how he was doing, telling him he missed him, and just trying to get even the smallest bit of a conversation going. He tried not to read too much into it. It had most likely been an overwhelming night for him so far, and he was probably worn out.

It was only once they were back at the trailer that Wayne realized he didn’t have any pajamas or extra clothes for Eddie. He still had most of the clothes that had been left behind when his brother had taken the boy back, but he’d grown in the three years since he’d worn any of that stuff, so Wayne doubted he’d be comfortable in any of them. He grabbed one of his own t-shirts out of the basket of clean laundry he’d neglected to put away and offered it to Eddie.

“I know it’s not pajamas, but you might be more comfortable sleeping in this.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie replied, not bothering to take the shirt. “I sleep like this most of the time.”

The boy moved to sit on the edge of the couch, and Wayne set the shirt down on the coffee table just in case Eddie ended up changing his mind.

“How long do I get to stay here?” Eddie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Am I gonna have to go stay somewhere else?”

“No, Eds. You’re here with me for good.” Even if Richie didn’t end up in jail for any of the charges he was facing, Wayne was never letting Eddie out of his sight again. Even if that meant spending what little money he had on a custody battle for his nephew’s wellbeing.

Wayne noted the confused look on Eddie’s face at his response, but he didn’t press the issue further. It had already been a long night for the both of them, and he was surprised that Eddie wasn’t already passed out.

“I’ve still got all of your stuff here from before, so I figure we can go through it tomorrow. See if any of your clothes might still fit or if there are any toys you might still want, and then we can go to the Goodwill and maybe get you some new things to replace what doesn’t work anymore.”

“You kept my stuff?”

“Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said as he looked down at his shoes. “Figured you wouldn’t want my stuff here either.”

It was the either that struck him. How Eddie was so quiet when he said it as if he didn’t want to voice his fears out loud. Wayne moved to sit next to Eddie on the couch.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Eds. You’re upset, and I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Eddie refused to look at his uncle, continuing to stare at the ground instead.

“Dad said you didn’t want me here anymore. That there wasn’t space for me, so I had to go back with him.”

Wayne thought that being punched in the chest would have been less painful than hearing that. As much as he wanted to sit there and call his brother a liar along with a slew of much harsher names, he couldn’t let himself do that. Eddie had already been through so much that night, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for worsening the boy’s opinion of his own dad. Instead, he placed a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. There was not a day that went by that I didn’t wish you were here with me. Your dad and I had just had a fight, and it made more sense for you to be with him than it did for you to stay here. That’s all it was.”

Wayne got up from the sofa and moved over to where the old foldout bed was pushed into the corner. Behind it was a small, wooden chest. He picked up the chest and set it back down in front of Eddie. He encouraged Eddie to open it, and when the boy did, the first thing he saw was his old stuffed lion. He pulled the plushie out and hugged it to his chest before looking back to find many more of his childhood play things. Toy cars, dinosaurs, and little army men mixed in with crayon stumps, notebooks filled with his drawings, and his mother’s well-loved copies of Tolkien’s epic fantasy. The boy looked up at his uncle with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry if my mistakes ever made you feel unwanted,” Wayne started, “because the truth is that I would still want you here and have the space for you even if this trailer was the size of my bathroom and nothing bigger.”

“You swear?” Eddie asked. He held out his pinky, and his uncle immediately gripped it with his own.

“I swear.”

Wayne moved to set up the fold out bed.

“You don’t have to go through any of that tonight. It’s late enough as it is. Let me get your bed set up, and we can deal with all of that tomorrow.”

“I’m fine on the couch.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not gonna let you sleep on the couch when I’ve got a perfectly good bed for you.”

“It’s really okay. When we weren’t sleeping in the car, I slept on a lot of couches at other people’s places. The floor sometimes, too. But I always liked the couches best."

The boy seemed eager to please as if he'd been told not to be difficult about where he slept in the past. To accept what he was offered without complaint. Wayne didn't want to fight him on this, but he also didn't want Eddie to think that this was any trouble for him. He'd give him the choice and let the boy do whatever he was most comfortable with.

"Well, I'm just gonna go ahead and set up the bed anyway. You don't have to sleep on it if you don't want to, but I want you to have it as an option."

Wayne barely slept that night. Eddie had looked at the fold out bed as if it was a trap before curling up into a ball on the sofa. It was then that it occurred to him that his nephew hadn't had his own room or any space to really call his own since the first time he'd come to live at the trailer. He'd always shared his uncle's room or the living room or whatever space his dad was able to provide.

Wayne had never needed much space. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and he figured he could fit most of his things in the tiny closet outside the bathroom if he did a little rearranging. Most of his drawers had been taken up by Eddie’s clothes when he lived there the first time anyway. He could take the fold out bed in the living room and give up his bedroom for his nephew. And if Eddie had his own space, maybe that would silence whatever was telling him that he was unwanted and allow him to relax.

So, instead of sleeping, he went through his closet. The boxes filled with Eddie’s old clothes were emptied onto the bed so he could load them up with his things. Moving it all into the hall closet and drawers could wait until morning since he didn’t want to accidentally wake his nephew, but he could get the room mostly ready for the boy to move into it. 

By the time it was a reasonable enough hour for him to go and make his morning coffee, he had all of his stuff piled in boxes in the corner and another box of things he was planning on donating to Goodwill. He figured he could wash the sheets and put a fresh set on the bed later, but everything else was ready.

Eddie was still curled up asleep on the couch when Wayne exited the bedroom, so he tried to be as quiet as possible as he started the coffee. He woke up before the coffee was done though, and soon enough, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stood next to his uncle in the kitchen.

“You sleep okay, kiddo?” Wayne asked as he pulled out a couple cereal bowls.

Eddie nodded before moving to take his normal spot at the small table. Wayne didn’t want to pry too much, but he was clueless about what Eddie’s life had been like over the last few years, so he tried to get the boy to talk to him without it seeming like he was interrogating him.

Over bowls of Cheerios, Eddie shared that most of the time, his dad had him hang out at the comic book shop after school and on the weekends. He wasn’t supposed to get in the way while Richie was working, so every week, his dad gave him two dollars, and he could spend that on whatever comics he wanted even if the only ones he really cared about were the X-Men ones. The guy who ran the shop was really nice and let Eddie sit there for as long as he needed to even on the days that he wasn’t buying anything. He never missed school, and his dad always made sure he was fed, so at least he hadn’t been lacking in those departments. Richie was neglectful in a lot of ways, but he had managed to do the bare minimum. He could be thankful for that at least.

After breakfast, Wayne had Eddie help him sort through the boy’s old clothes. None of the pants were going to fit him anymore, but he had a handful of shirts that had been a little big before that he could still fit into. Wayne just hoped that they’d be able to find a few pairs of jeans in decent shape while they were at Goodwill because he definitely didn’t have the money to drop on new pants.

Eddie wanted to keep his dinosaurs and the one little car that had been his favorite, and of course he was keeping Mister Lion, but the rest of his old toys joined the Goodwill boxes. He just wasn’t interested in those things anymore. Wayne made a mental note to pick up a new box of crayons the next time he was at the grocery store since Eddie was very adamant about keeping all of his old drawings, and his old crayons were barely usable anymore.

Their trip to Goodwill was a successful one. Wayne had to use up a good portion of his cigarette budget for the month on a new wardrobe for Eddie, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He’d been meaning to cut back anyway.

“Why don’t you go and put your clothes away in your room?” Wayne told Eddie when they returned to the trailer.

“My room?”

“The bedroom is yours, Eds. I just have to move a few things into the other closet and change the sheets, and then it’ll be ready.”

“You don’t have to give up your room for me.”

“I know. But I want to. Figured you should have a space of your own if you’re gonna be staying here permanently.”

Eddie dropped the bags he was holding and went to give his uncle a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No need to thank me. You deserve this.” As Wayne was moving the rest of his stuff out of the room, Eddie was drawn to one item in particular.

“You play guitar?” he asked, eyeing the old acoustic in his uncle’s hands.

“I used to. I don’t think I’ve actually played it since before you were born. I was about your age when I learned though.”

“Could you teach me?”

“Sure can. I was just gonna stick it in the closet, but you can keep it in your room if you want and you promise to be real careful with it.”

Eddie nodded enthusiastically before taking the guitar from his uncle and carrying it back into his bedroom.

The rest of Eddie’s first day back at the trailer passed by without any incident. Eddie was slowly warming up to being there again even if he still seemed cautious about what he was and wasn’t allowed to do. It wasn’t until bedtime that Wayne was certain things would be okay between them.

By then, he was exhausted from having stayed up all night and all the work he did to get the bedroom ready for him. He’d just tucked Eddie in and was getting ready to set up his own bed in the living room when he heard the bedroom door open.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked. “Thought you were going to sleep?”

“I was,” Eddie said as he looked down at the ground. “But I was just thinking maybe you could set up your bed in my room like we used to? Just for tonight?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Wayne squeezed the fold out bed into the cramped bedroom. Without saying a word, Eddie handed his uncle the copy of The Hobbit that was sitting on the nightstand, and even though he was ready to crash, Wayne settled in and read until his nephew was softly snoring beside him just as he had so many times before.

December 1976

Wayne was not spoiling Eddie for Christmas this year. If anyone asked, he insisted he wasn’t. He was staying well within his budget for the holidays, but he was buying pretty much everything secondhand, so his money went a little further. He’d picked up a few board games and an assortment of mismatched legos from the Goodwill, and he’d managed to get a good deal on a new set of strings for the guitar. He’d even picked up the 64 pack of Crayola crayons that had a sharpener built into the box and some plain, unlined paper for him to draw on. Eddie's Christmases with his dad hadn't exactly been great ones, and he wanted to do what he could to make up for that. There was just one last thing he wanted to get.

It had all started when Eddie had spent an entire day drawing at the kitchen table. Wayne hadn't been paying much attention to him because anything that kept Eddie occupied and quiet for more than five minutes meant he could get some cleaning done around the trailer without his nephew getting underfoot or making more work for him. He loved the kid as if he were his own, but he could be a handful at times. When he went to put another load of dirty clothes in the washer and figure out what he was making for dinner, he got a good look at what Eddie had been drawing.

Wayne gathered up the papers and shuffled through them, and he was amazed by Eddie's work. They were good drawings. Not just good for a kid drawings where you could tell what they were supposed to be but they still looked clumsy. These were actually good, and they were all dragons. Different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some breathing fire, some flying, and some sleeping, but all recognizable as dragons.

"Did you draw all of these?" he asked.

Eddie nodded without looking up from his current drawing.

"And you didn't trace 'em or copy them from something or anything?"

"Nope. I just drew what I pictured."

“These are really great, Eds. Best drawings I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Don’t know where you got all this talent from. No one in our family can draw more than a stick figure.”

Eddie was absolutely beaming from all of the praise.

“Which one is your favorite?” the boy asked.

Wayne flipped through the stack of drawings in his hand before pulling out one of a purple dragon asleep on a pile of gold coins and jewels.

“If I had to pick, it’s this one,” he said as he held up the picture. “Would you mind if I hung it on the fridge?”

“You wanna hang up my picture?”

“Of course, I do. Gotta display it like the masterpiece it is.”

After the first drawing was in its place on the fridge, Eddie wanted to hang the rest of his dragons up in his room, so Wayne carefully taped up each and every one of them exactly where Eddie told him to. The entire time, Eddie was sitting cross-legged on his bed monologuing about how cool dragons were and why they were his most favorite fantasy creature. It was then that Wayne knew he had to find a way to get his boy something dragon-related for Christmas.

The problem he was facing was that there seemed to be absolutely nothing dragon-related in all of Hawkins, and he was running out of time. He didn’t know what he was going to do until he spotted something on one of the shelves in the comic book shop.

Wayne couldn’t give Eddie as much money as his dad had been giving him to spend on comics, but every Saturday, they took a trip there after lunch and before they did their grocery shopping for the next week. Eddie was allowed to choose one comic to take home, and Wayne would let him take as long as he needed to make that decision. Usually, he’d just stand and wait with Eddie, but a box with a large red dragon on the front had piqued his interest, so he went to examine it. It didn’t take long for him to realize that it was the perfect gift for his nephew.

When Eddie ran up to him with the comic he’d chosen, Wayne told him to go wait in the truck while he paid. As soon as his nephew was out of his sight, he grabbed the box and bought it along with the comic. It was a little more than he wanted to spend, but he knew it would be worth it to see Eddie’s face when he opened it on Christmas morning.

Wayne had barely opened his eyes before Eddie was shoving a gift into his hands on Christmas morning. He’d insisted that he didn’t need anything like he had for every single Christmas of his adult life, and he had been ignored as usual. When he opened the gift bag, he was presented with four different coffee mugs.

“There’s one for this year, and one for every Christmas I missed,” Eddie said, looking very proud of himself.

“How’d you get the money to pay for these?”

“A group of kids on the playground bet me their milk money that I wouldn’t eat a worm.”

“You ate a worm?”

Eddie shrugged. “It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time.”

Wayne snorted and moved to ruffle a hand through the boy’s curls. “We’ve gotta work on your impulse control, kid.”

“Do you like them?” Eddie asked.

“I love ‘em. In fact, I’m gonna have my morning coffee in one of them, and I’ll make you a special Christmas hot cocoa in one, too.”

After the drinks had been passed out, Wayne pushed his bed to the side so he and Eddie could sit on the floor together with the tiny fake tree that Wayne had found at a garage sale. It wasn’t much, and it looked even tinier when the small pile of gifts for Eddie was almost the same height, but Eddie had just been excited to have a tree which was good enough for Wayne.

As Eddie opened his gifts, Wayne made sure that the one he was the most excited to give him was the last one he opened.

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie read off the front of the box.

“It’s a fantasy roleplaying game,” Wayne told him. “I don’t know much about it, but the guy down at the comic book shop said it’s pretty fun, and I know how much you like dragons and fantasy stuff, so I thought this could be fun. I figured you could read the manual and maybe teach me how to play? If that’s okay with you, of course.”

It was more than okay with Eddie. Wayne watched as Eddie did nothing but read the manuals and plan out a small campaign for them to play for pretty much his entire winter break. On New Year’s Eve, he sat his uncle down at their kitchen table and walked him through creating a character before diving into their fantasy adventure. Wayne tried his best to understand what was going on, and Eddie often had to remind him which die to roll and when, but the boy’s excitement and enthusiasm for the game was apparent the entire time. He never got frustrated with him for forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, and he put every bit of his dramatic, over the top personality into painting a picture of this fantasy world.

There were plenty of days where Wayne was convinced that he was doing everything wrong when it came to raising Eddie, but as he watched his nephew fall in love with his new game, he knew that he’d done at least one thing right.

May 1980

When Eddie started middle school, Wayne had decided he was old enough to take the bus home from school and be alone at the trailer until he got home from work. For the most part, this hadn’t been a bad idea, and Eddie had only almost flooded the trailer once. But, towards the end of eighth grade, there was one big hiccup.

“I messed up,” Eddie called from the bathroom the second Wayne had walked in the door.

"Messed up how?"

"Can you just come here?"

Wayne made his way back to the bathroom where he found Eddie leaning over the sink. Sitting on the edge of the sink was a pair of scissors, and there was a very obvious chunk of hair missing from the left side of his head. Considering the fact that Eddie had just told him a week before that he was planning on growing out his hair in an attempt to emulate his favorite musicians, Wayne was more than a little bit confused.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked.

"I was just minding my own business and talking to my friend Jeff about how awesome Corroded Coffin was gonna be at the talent show next week when the kid in the seat behind me smashed his gum in my hair."

"Is this the same kid who called you a freak and ripped up your notebook last month?"

"Yeah . . . I've been ignoring him like you said, but he just won't leave me alone."

Wayne had never considered beating a child before, but there was a first time for everything.

"And I'm guessing the scissors are out because you were trying to get the gum out by yourself?"

"I tried everything. But I couldn't get it out with my hands, and trying to pick it out with my comb only made it worse. And I didn't know what to do, so I figured I could just cut it out, and no one would notice. But I ended up cutting off too much, and now I look like this."

"Why didn't you wait for me to get home? I could've helped you."

"I was embarrassed," Eddie said. The boy looked like he was about ready to cry. "I don't like talking about this stuff, so I thought maybe I could do it alone, and then I wouldn't have to tell you."

Wayne sighed before squeezing past Eddie to pull his clippers out of the bathroom cabinet.

"I can fix this," he said. "It's not going to be what you want, and it's going to take awhile for your hair to grow back, but I can at least even it out and make it look like you wanted your hair to be shorter, okay?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Now take a seat and let me take care of you."

Eddie sat down on the edge of the toilet, and Wayne got to work. To make it easier for the clippers to do their job, Wayne started out by using the scissors to cut off Eddie's curls in chunks that he tossed aside in the sink. Once his hair was a more manageable length, Wayne turned on the clippers and started evening out the cut. It definitely wasn't what Eddie wanted, but soon enough, the boy was sporting a fresh buzz cut.

“I’m going to clean up in here, and then you can take a shower if you want. After that, meet me in the kitchen. I think you and I might need to have a talk.”

After sweeping up Eddie’s hair, Wayne headed into the kitchen and put on the water for hot chocolate. That was their routine. Whenever they had to talk about something even remotely upsetting, they did it over cups of hot cocoa in the hopes that the sweetness of the drink would soften the blow.

Eddie came out of the bathroom and took his usual seat at the kitchen table just as Wayne was finished making their drinks. He set Eddie’s mug down in front of him before taking his own seat. It was obvious to him that the boy had been crying while he was in the bathroom from his red-rimmed eyes, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to make Eddie feel worse than he clearly already did.

Wayne couldn’t get a word out before Eddie started talking.

“I don’t think I wanna do the talent show anymore,” he said as he stared into his mug.

“Why not? It’s all you’ve talked about for weeks.”

“They haven’t even heard me play yet, and I’m already getting picked on for it. What if I suck, and it gets worse?”

“So what?”

“What do you mean so what?” Eddie asked. “You just had to shave my head. I don’t want anything like this to happen ever again.”

Wayne sighed and took a sip from his mug.

“I know we don’t talk about your mama very often, but after you, music was her favorite thing in this world. When you all lived with me, there wasn’t a moment of the day that she wasn’t singing along with whatever was playing on the radio, and she might have been just about the worst singer I’ve heard in my entire life. Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if her life depended on it, and we all teased her about it constantly. But that didn’t stop her from singing her heart out whenever she heard her favorite songs.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“People around here are small-minded, and they’re raising their children to be a bunch of small-minded idiots. No matter what you do, there’s always going to be someone who’s gonna try to make you feel small. That’s just the way life is. And if you stop yourself from doing the things you love just because someone else is making fun of you for it, you’re only letting the bullies win. You’ve gotta be a bigger and louder version of yourself and not let them affect you.

“You are so much like your mama in a lot of ways. Practically a little clone of her at times. Especially when you smile. But the biggest difference that I can see is that you have talent. I may not understand the kind of music you like, but I can tell when something sounds good. I hear you practicing, and you’ve got a gift. I won’t lie to you and pretend that everyone is going to love your performance or that the bullies will magically disappear, but what I can tell you is that it would be a damn shame if you didn’t share your gift with the world just because some little shit stain on your bus clearly wasn’t raised right.”

Wayne got up from the table to put his mug in the sink, but he’d barely taken a step before Eddie had jumped up and wrapped his arms around his uncle in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Wayne replied as he hugged him back. “I probably don’t say this enough, but I hope you know that I love you, and I’m always going to be in your corner.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

“Good. And if you have any more trouble on that bus of yours, you let me know, and I’ll kick that little punk’s butt. No one is gonna get away with treating my boy like crap.”

Eddie snorted as he pulled away from his uncle.

“I’m sure he’ll be terrified. You’re basically the least intimidating person I know.”

“Okay, smart ass. I’m plenty intimidating.”

“You’re about as scary as a teddy bear.”

It was Wayne’s turn to laugh.

A few weeks later, when Father’s Day rolled around, Wayne woke up to a gift and a homemade card waiting for him next to the coffee maker. He opened the card first, and printed in Eddie’s messy scrawl, it read:

I feel like this is probably long overdue, and I should have been honoring you today for at least a few years now. You’ve been more of a dad to me than I ever remember mine being, and I feel like I don’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me enough. So thanks for always being there. Happy Father’s Day from your boy.

Feeling a little choked up, Wayne pulled the gift towards himself next. It was wrapped up in the comics from the day before’s newspaper with way too much tape. He knew what it would be before he'd even unwrapped it, but he was always happy to see whatever mug Eddie had picked out for him. This one was dark green and patterned with sunflowers, and he knew that it was going to become one of his new favorites immediately if only because of the circumstances in which he received it.

March 1986

Wayne Munson was tired. Tired of people judging Eddie without really knowing him, tired of people not listening to him, and tired of people defacing his missing posters instead of actually helping him look. He was tired of having to keep his guard up when anyone tried to talk to him because he didn’t want to lose his temper and attack someone for spouting vile nonsense at him, and he was tired of spending every waking moment - and most of his sleeping ones - worrying about Eddie. Tired of sleeping in the high school surrounded by people who had actively been hunting down his boy to do who knows what to him. He was just tired.

So, when Dustin Henderson came up to him and gave him the news that Eddie was gone, he could feel himself crumbling from the inside out. At first, he didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true. His boy was out there somewhere and hiding until someone could find concrete evidence that cleared his name. He had to be. But the guitar pick necklace that Dustin held out to him and the apparent pain plastered across the kid’s face had sealed it. His boy was dead, and he was never going to see him again.

Wayne had never been one to outwardly express his emotions. He tended to keep things tucked away until he could have a moment in private, and he certainly never cried in public. But hearing the way that Dustin spoke so fondly about Eddie broke him. Because Dustin was saying everything that he already knew to be true. If Hawkins had really taken the time to get to know his boy, they all would have been able to look past his outer appearance, and they would have loved him just as much as Wayne did. He was certain of it. He just never thought he’d hear someone else say it.

Shortly after he spoke to Dustin, Wayne and the other trailer park residents were given the all clear to go back to their trailers and gather their things. The relief workers had marked it as safe for them to enter briefly, but no one was going to be allowed to stay there for very long. They were instructed to gather up anything important and head back to their temporary housing at the school as soon as possible. Eventually, they’d be able to come back and grab the rest of their things when more permanent housing was found for them, but for now, they were limited in how much they could take.

Wayne didn’t know how much of his stuff was going to be worth saving. Frankly, he was surprised that his trailer had even been left standing when he saw the fault line that ran through what had once been his living room. Out of an abundance of caution, he had entered through the door down near the bedroom instead of the main entrance. He moved quickly, shoving as many of his clothes in his bag as he could. He’d much rather wear his own stuff than the donations that people brought into the school.

After that, he grabbed the sentimental things. For once, he was thankful that he didn’t keep things in conventional places because that meant that all of his photo albums were safe. The notebooks full of Eddie’s childhood drawings and his favorite dragon picture were safe. Eddie’s beloved stuffed lion was safe. All of these were carefully added to his bag. But the one thing he couldn’t take was what hurt the most to leave behind.

He’d known the second that he saw the fault line running through his home that his mugs wouldn’t have made it. What was left of his living room display was now smashed on the floor, and he could tell just from the look of it that there was nothing he could save. He knew it was stupid for him to be so upset about them. They were just a bunch of mugs and nobody else would find them important. Anybody else wouldn’t give them a second thought because they could be replaced. 

But they were important to Wayne. Those mugs tied him to better times with people he would never be able to see again. He could buy a new mug, but he couldn’t buy the mugs that Linda had stolen from her parents for him, he couldn’t buy the mugs that Eddie had eaten a worm to pay for, and he couldn’t buy the mug that Eddie gave him the first time he recognized him on Father’s Day. He couldn’t buy back the happiness that looking at those mugs and remembering their stories gave him. That was gone forever.

He didn’t want to set himself up for even more disappointment, but a part of him needed to know if the mugs that he stored in the cabinet had made it through the earthquake. Those were the ones that he used the most often. His favorites. He would be heartbroken if they were all destroyed, but he needed that closure.

When he opened the cabinet above the coffee maker, he was met with a shelf covered with the broken pieces of his mugs that had smashed against each other in the enclosed space. He knew not to get his hopes up, but it was still a painful sight to see.

But, pushed into the very back corner of the cabinet, there was one mug that appeared to still be intact. He carefully pulled it out of the debris to inspect it. Sporting a new chip on the handle, the mug featured the phrase “World’s Best Uncle” hand-painted on the side along with a bright blue baby handprint. The mug from Eddie’s first Christmas.

As he carefully wrapped the mug in a sheet of newspaper that was sitting on the floor underneath the kitchen table, Wayne felt himself choking back tears for the second time that day. It wasn’t his whole collection, but at least it was something. After all, he was only one man. He always said he didn’t need more than one mug.

[munson-blurbs]

Hello my dearest! I’ve got a fluffy request for you! Maybe the reader always wanted either a puppy or a kitten their whole life but never had one, and Eddie surprises them with one on Christmas morning?

I love you! 💚 - @corroded-hellfire

Did someone say cheesy Christmas fluff overload? Because that's what we got.

Warnings: none

WC: 1.1k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

When you wake up on Christmas morning, you instinctively turn over to snuggle in closer to your boyfriend, frowning when you’re greeted with an empty side of the bed. Eddie rarely got up earlier than you did when he had a day off. The only explanation you could fathom was that he got hungry, so you head to the kitchen to sneak up behind him with some mistletoe. He’s not there, either, but there is a note:

Merry Christmas, gorgeous! Be home in 30 minutes with a surprise. Love, Eddie

You roll your eyes and smile. The note was thoughtful, but he hadn’t bothered to mention what time he left. He could’ve written the note five minutes ago or twenty-nine minutes ago. You decide to pour yourself a bowl of cereal and milk, munching on Cheerios while you wait.

When you and Eddie started dating nearly four years ago, he had no idea how to celebrate Christmas. His own parents barely acknowledged the holidays; Eddie confessed that one year, he only knew it was Christmas because all the kids came to school with their new toys from Santa. When he went to live with Wayne as a pre-teen, the man tried his best to spread holiday cheer, but money was always too tight. He’d get Eddie something he needed: new socks, school supplies; one year, when Wayne got a small raise and Eddie’s sneakers were practically falling apart, he got him a new pair from the Payless clearance section. During your first Christmas together, you’d gotten Eddie a new denim jacket he’d been eyeing at the mall. When he fished it out of the bag, he looked excited but confused. 

“Babe, this is really nice,” Eddie had said, “but I already have a jacket.”

“Yeah, but you were practically drooling over this one in the store,” you’d replied, frowning at his reaction. “Do…do you not like it?”

“I love it!” He’d reassured you with a kiss to your cheek. “Just don’t want you spending money on stuff I want if I don’t really need it.”

“Eddie,” your face fell as you reached for his hand. “It’s Christmas. That’s what Christmas is about–making your loved ones happy.” At your sweet words, Eddie had picked you up into a hug, spun you around, and kissed you deeply.

You glance under the tree now, noting the crisply-wrapped gift awaiting your boyfriend. His wristwatch had broken a few weeks ago; the thing was ancient and on its last legs for a while. The new one you’d purchased had a stopwatch and an alarm, and you knew he would freak out in the best way.

You place your empty bowl in the sink, heart leaping when you hear the click of the key in the lock. Your smile only widens when Eddie walks through the door, clutching a large box in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” His hair is messy and his cheeks are rosy from the winter wind. “I hope you’re ready for your present.”

“Already?” you laugh. “I thought we normally open our gifts after dinner.” That’s how you’d always done it: celebrating Christmas with your family, Wayne in tow, and then exchanging your presents to each other before going to bed.

Eddie looks down at his full hands. “I think you’re gonna want this one now,” he says with a sheepish grin. As you get closer to him, you notice that there are holes lining the sides of your gift, and you’re fairly certain you can see something moving inside. And was that a bark?

“You didn’t!” you exclaim excitedly, opening the top carefully. A puppy with scruffy brown fur pokes its head out, tail wagging a mile a minute. “You did!” You gently lift him from the box and hold him to your chest. His tiny sharp teeth nibble on your fingers, but you’re too happy to notice. “Eddie, he’s so little and cute and perfect!”

“The people at the shelter called him Gary,” he tells you, “but they said you can change it if you want.”

You lift the puppy higher, inspecting him. “Nah, he definitely looks like a Gary to me,” you conclude, kissing his fuzzy ears and giggling as he licks your nose.

“Damn, dude,” Eddie pouts, peering at Gary, “you’ve been here for two minutes and you’re already stealing all my girl’s attention!”

“Poor baby,” you tease. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of love for the world’s most handsome dog dad!” You bring Gary to Eddie’s cheek, and the two of you pepper it with endless kisses. Once you pull away, Eddie clears his throat and starts to speak.

“There’s, um, one more surprise,” he stammers. “Did you look at Gary’s collar?”

You peer down and audibly gasp. Hanging next to his tags is a sparkling diamond ring, dainty and delicate, just like you’ve always wanted. 

Eddie’s trembling fingers unhook the ring, and you watch through misty eyes as he bends on one knee. “Do you remember telling me that Christmas is about bringing happiness to the people you love?” He pauses, only resuming when you nod. “Sweetheart, you make me happy every damn day. I smile like an idiot just knowing we belong to each other, that we found each other, that we love each other. And I want that for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

You’re so stunned that you forget to speak for a moment. It’s only when he takes your hand in his that your trance breaks. “Yes, Eddie! Of course I’ll marry you!” He slides the ring on your finger triumphantly, enveloping you and Gary in a bear hug.

“Did you hear that, Gary?” you ask as Eddie wipes the tears from your cheeks, “Mommy and Daddy are gonna get married!” Your eyes widen as you turn to your now-fiancé. “Babe, can he be the ring bearer?”

Eddie smiles and scratches under Gary’s chin. “D’you think you’re up for the challenge, little guy?” Gary’s response is to chomp down on Eddie’s finger, and you burst out laughing.

“He does not appreciate you questioning his ring-bearing abilities,” you chastise playfully, smushing your face against the dog’s. “Isn’t that right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but can’t hide his joy at your love for your gifts. “I should’ve known you two would team up against me.” He pulls you closer and presses his lips to the top of your head. “You’re lucky you’re both so damn cute.”

[marauders-venting]

Prongslet & His Family

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: brief mentions of death and grief

words: 4707

a/n: this was a request from @ barsha3447 on instagram and @moonyandandy on tumblr!!

Sirius was crossing the parking lot to Harry’s kindergarten. He could feel the eyes of some of the parents staring at him, judging him, but that just made him smirk and hold his head higher. He leaned against the wall and checked his watch. Harry should be out any minute now.

As soon as the door to the classroom opened, the kids came spilling out. Harry ran at Sirius and jumped into his arms. Sirius picked him up and kissed the top of his head.

“Uncle Padfoot!” Harry said. “Look what I drew.” He held out a piece of paper far too close to Sirius’ face. Sirius leaned his head back a little and looked at the drawing. It was a stick figure holding a proportionally over-large chocolate bar. And next to the stick figure was something that Sirius assumed was supposed to be him in his animagus form. In between the two was another stick figure, a much smaller one, with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

“Miss Amy told us to draw our family,” Harry said. Sirius felt his heart twinge. On one hand, it made him so happy that Harry had drawn them as a family. But on the other, Sirius couldn’t help but feel that it should be Lily and James in that drawing.

“It’s really good,” Sirius told him. “You’re a great artist, Prongslet.” Sirius had only gone back to using the nickname recently. The reminder had been too heavy for the first few years after Lily and James’ death. But now Harry was almost 6 years old and Sirius wanted him to remember his parents. He wanted Harry to know how similar he is to James. And Sirius thought James would appreciate it. He owed James that, at least. “Come on, Harry, let’s go to the car.”

“Bye-bye, Neville,” Harry said, waving to Neville who was standing beside his grandmother showing her his own drawing. Remus and Sirius had, after much persuasion, convinced Augusta to send Neville to the same kindergarten as Harry. That way they’d both have a familiar face with them at their new school. Now Neville and Harry had playdates almost every day.

“Bye-bye, Harry,” Neville said, smiling and waving back.

Sirius took Harry back to the car and strapped him into the booster seat in the back.

“We have to go to the supermarket, Harry,” Sirius said, “because Uncle Moony said we should go yesterday and we didn’t. But I’ll let you pick out something yummy if you behave the whole time, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry said excitedly.

When they got to the supermarket, Sirius loaded a cart with everything they needed and then waited with surprising patience as Harry debated whether he wanted gummy worms or Smarties.

“Uncle Padfoot,” Harry said, turning away from the candy and looking up at his godfather, “can we visit Uncle Moony’s work today?”

“Uncle Moony has a lot to do today, Harry,” Sirius said. Remus had told him that morning that he’d be home late; he had loads of essays to mark before his students had to sit their exams. Sirius didn’t want to disturb him if he was under pressure.

“We can bring him something yummy to cheer him up!” Harry said, holding up a large bar of chocolate. Sirius smiled at him.

“Okay, we’ll surprise him then,” Sirius said. Remus’ last class of the day ended soon anyway; Sirius had memorized his schedule by now. “But we can’t stay there too long, Harry. Hey, if we’re going into Hogsmeade, why don’t we buy candy at Honeydukes instead? Remember the store with the chocolate frogs?”

“Yeah, I want the froggies!” Harry said.

Once they’d paid for their groceries and arrived at home, Sirius put everything away and held Harry’s hand.

“Do you remember how we did this last time?” Sirius asked him.

“Yes,” Harry said. “I need to hold Uncle Padfoot’s hand very, very tight and close my eyes so I don’t get dizzy.”

“Right,” Sirius said. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. He squeezed Sirius’ hands as tightly as he could and Sirius Disapparated.

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Harry standing in one piece. Apparating with Harry always made him nervous, despite being assured that it was safe many times, and he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Sirius asked.

“Yup!” Harry said. He looked around excitedly, staring in wonder at the enormous castle looming in the distance. Then he turned back to Sirius. “Candy shop!” Then he ran off in the direction of Honeydukes. Sirius laughed and hurried after him. He followed Harry into the shop where the little boy was staring at the candy on the walls.

“You want a chocolate frog?” Sirius asked.

“Can I have a wand?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Sirius said. “Chocolate or liquorice?”

“Chocolate!” Harry said.

“You take after Moony,” Sirius grinned. He bought one wand for Harry, one for Remus and a packet of Acid Pops. If they were already here he might as well.

“Ready to see Uncle Moony?” Sirius asked once everything was paid for.

“Yeah!” Harry said. Sirius put a finger on his lips indicating that Harry should be quiet and led him to the back of the store, unnoticed by the cashier who had turned to help another customer. Sirius opened the cellar that led to the tunnel connecting Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. He dropped inside and carried Harry into the tunnel as well.

“Uncle Pads, where are we going?” Harry whispered as Sirius sealed it once more.

“To see Uncle Moony,” Sirius said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Too bad we don’t have the map anymore. Oh well, it’s no big deal. Come on, Harry.”

“This isn’t the way to Uncle Moony’s work,” Harry said.

“This, Harry, is a secret path to Hogwarts,” Sirius said.

“Really?” Harry said, his eyes wide.

“Yep.”

“If it’s a secret, how do you know it?” Harry asked.

“You’re old enough now to hear the story, I think,” Sirius said. Harry immediately stood up straighter to make himself look taller and older. “When I was at school, me, your dad and your Uncle Moony used to wander around the castle and we discovered this secret tunnel and lots of other secret tunnels.”

“You did?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius said.

“Even my dad?”

“Yeah, even your dad,” Sirius said. “It was your dad’s idea to make a map.”

“It was?”

“Uncle Moony helped him with the magic because he’s very smart but your dad and me were the ones who found most of the places together.”

“That’s so cool!” Harry said. “Uncle Pads, was my dad cool?” Sirius almost laughed. James was one of the biggest dorks he’d ever known. But maybe Harry didn’t need to know that quite yet.

“He sure thought he was,” Sirius said. He thought Harry might ask what that meant but he seemed satisfied.

“Were you and my dad best friends?” Harry asked. Sirius felt a lump in his throat. It had been nearly six years since Lily and James had died but this still happened sometimes. Normally, Sirius could talk about them. It wasn’t as bad as it was in the beginning. But sometimes, Sirius still felt like he did then. Helpless without his best friends. Unable to accept that he would never see them again. That Harry would never see them. Sometimes Sirius felt like he would break down at any mention of them. But he couldn’t do that here. So he cleared his throat and answered Harry’s question.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “He was my best friend. He was like my brother, your dad.” Sirius didn’t think he could keep talking about James but Harry just smiled and started running down the tunnel. Sirius took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. It’s okay. It’s okay. Remus’ soothing voice echoed through his head. Sirius opened his eyes and looked at the tunnel walls around him. He chose, instead, to remember all of the happy times he’d had in here. With James, with Lily, with Remus. Sirius kept walking down the tunnel; Harry would be waiting for him. He ran his fingers across the wall as he walked until he found what he was looking for: the letter ‘M’ clumsily carved into the stone wall. Sirius traced the letter with his thumb. The Marauders. He smiled. It’ll be okay.

When Harry and Sirius reached the end of the tunnel and emerged from the hump of the one-eyed witch statue, they headed straight for the staff room. However, on their way there, they were stopped by a familiar voice.

“Mr Black,” said Professor McGonagall from behind him.

“Professor!” Sirius said, turning around with a grin on his face.

“I’m not your teacher anymore, Sirius,” she said.

“Old habit,” Sirius shrugged.

“As I seem to recall,” she started, “during your time here as a student you hardly ever referred to me as your professor, rather you favoured certain nicknames.”

“Well you can’t deny that ‘Minnie’ suits you,” Sirius said. She gave an exasperated sigh but Sirius saw her smile behind the strict lines of her face. “Besides,” he added, “I’m not Mr Black anymore, either.” He flashed his wedding ring in her direction.

“Quite right,” she said, with a small smile. “What are you doing here, Sirius?”

“Aren’t you glad to see me, Minnie?” Sirius grinned but she held the stern gaze. “You’re going to give me detention, aren’t you?”

“As much as I would like to, I’m afraid that’s not within my power anymore,” McGonagall said.

“Such a shame,” Sirius said. “Harry wanted to see his Uncle Remus, didn’t you, Harry?” Sirius added, answering her question at last.

“Well hello there, Harry,” she said. Everything about McGonagall — from her expression to her stance to her voice — softened as she addressed the small boy who was holding his godfather’s hand and hiding shyly behind his leg. “You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you. Did you come to see your Uncle Remus?”

“We brought him some chocolate,” Harry said, coming out from behind Sirius and showing her the chocolate wand.

“You did? How thoughtful of you,” she said. “He should be in the staff room by now; he’s finished all his classes, I think. Come with me.” Sirius and Harry followed McGonagall to the staff room. Remus wasn’t there but, much to Sirius’ dismay, Severus Snape was. Sirius resolved to ignore him but the way he was glaring at Harry was infuriating. What could a five-year-old he had never met have possibly done to him?

“Remus must still be in his classroom,” McGonagall said. “I assume you know where it is?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said.

“Would you like a biscuit, Harry?” she said.

“Yes please,” Harry said politely. McGonagall waved her wand and a jar of cookies appeared in her hand. It was the one she normally kept in her office. She handed a biscuit to Harry who took it in both his hands and took a bite.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius said. “Let’s go find Uncle Moony.”

“Yay!” Harry said, taking Sirius’ hand and following him out of the room but not before Sirius could throw a death glare at Snape the Insufferable.

When Sirius knocked on the door of Remus’ classroom and heard his husband’s voice say ‘come in’, he did not expect to walk into a classroom full of students. The surprised look on Remus’ face said that he had not expected his guests either. Harry, however, was unbothered by the students and ran to the front of the room to Remus yelling, “Uncle Moony!”

He jumped into Remus’ arms, who caught him, lifted him and kissed his head, the expression of surprise turning into a smile.

“Hi, Harry,” Remus said. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to say hello and also to bring you chocolate but not to stay for long because Uncle Pads said you’re very busy today.”

“Thank you, Harry, that’s very sweet of you,” Remus said, taking the chocolate wand. With Harry in his arms, he walked over to the doorway where Sirius stood.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said in a quiet voice.

“It was all Harry’s idea,” Sirius said. “But I thought your classes were over for today, I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s alright,” Remus said. “Technically my classes for the day are over. This is an optional study session for my seventh-years because they have their NEWTs soon.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “So I memorized your schedule right?”

“Yes you did,” Remus laughed.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it now,” Sirius said. But before he left, Sirius pressed a kiss to Remus’ lips that lasted quite a bit longer than Remus would’ve liked his students to see. It was only when Harry, who had put both of his little hands over his eyes, loudly said, “Ewwww!” that they finally broke apart. There was a ripple of laughter from the class in between the whispers.

“Well that was professional,” Remus whispered, sarcastically to Sirius.

“I’m just making sure everybody knows you have the hottest husband in the world,” Sirius whispered back.

“I think you got the message across pretty well,” Remus said with a small grin.

“Come one, Harry,” Sirius said, no longer bothering to whisper.

“Bye, Uncle Moony,” Harry said.

“Bye, Harry. See you at home, Pads.”

“See ya, Rem. Good luck with your NEWTs, kids. Try not to fail. But if you do, just do what I did.”

“Which is?” called one girl.

“Marry the smartest person in the year,” Sirius said, winking at Remus.

---------

As soon as Sirius left the room, chatter broke out.

“Professor, who was that?”

“His husband, idiot.”

“I didn’t know you were married, sir.”

“Was the little boy your son?”

“Didn’t you hear him say ‘Uncle’?”

“Alright, alright,” Remus called loudly. “Let’s get back to studying.”

---------

“Harry, it’s bedtime,” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“Five more minutes?” Harry asked, hovering a little above the floor on his broomstick.

“You said that five minutes ago,” Sirius said. “Time’s up now.”

“But I want to wait for Uncle Moony,” Harry said.

“Uncle Moony is going to be home very late tonight, Harry, he has lots of work to do,” Sirius said.

“But how will he say good night?”

“He’ll say good night after you’re already asleep,” Sirius said.

“Promise you’ll tell him?”

“I promise.”

“You smomemly swear?” Harry asked. Sirius laughed.

“I solemnly swear,” Sirius said. “Where did you learn that word?”

“You and Uncle Moony say it all the time.”

“Do we?” Sirius laughed. “ Come on, Harry, it’s time for bed.”

“Okayyyy,” Harry said, hopping off the broom and putting it away.

“You can fly more tomorrow,” Sirius said, ruffling his hair. “Are your teeth brushed?”

“Yup,” Harry said. “You know Neville lost a tooth today?”

“Did he?” Sirius said. “That’s exciting.”

“Yeah!” Harry said. “Do you think I’ll lose my teeth soon, Uncle Pads?”

“It’s only a matter of time, Prongslet,” Sirius said, tucking him in.

“And then the tooth fairy will come!” Harry said happily.

“The– The what?” Sirius asked.

“The tooth fairy,” Harry said. “That’s whatever everybody in my class said.” So it’s a muggle thing, Sirius thought. He made a mental note to ask Remus what the fuck a tooth fairy is.

“Good night, Prongslet,” Sirius said, kissing Harry’s forehead. Harry hugged him in return.

“Good night, Uncle Padfoot.”

---------

When Remus finally finished marking the essays, he packed up his things and left his classroom. He can’t explain why he was so determined to get it done tonight but he was. He knew it would mean coming home late; he felt bad about it but Sirius had assured him that it was alright.

Remus left the castle and went out to the grounds when he heard the voices of a group of students near the outskirts of the forest. When they saw him walking towards them, they fell silent and exchanged nervous looks.

“Good evening,” Remus said to the third-years.

“Good evening, professor,” mumbled one of the boys whom Remus recognized to be Charlie Weasley.

“What are you doing out this late?” Remus asked them. A girl, Amelia Johnson, muttered a reply that Remus was sure he wouldn’t have been able to hear if it were for his heightened sense of hearing around the full moon.

“Looking for animals?” Remus said in surprise.

“Yeah,” Charlie said.

“You come here for Care of Magical Creatures, don’t you?” Remus asked.

“We wanted to see more,” said the third boy, Jack Brown. Remus looked at them for a moment and considered his options.

“Alright, look. I’m very tired and I have people waiting for me at home. I won’t deduct points from your houses but Professor McGonagall is on patrol tonight and I guarantee that she won’t be nearly as forgiving so I suggest that you all go back to your common rooms. As for these animals that you’re fascinated with, why don’t you three come to my classroom on Monday and we’ll see what we can do about getting you three into a higher-level class to satisfy your curiosity?”

“We already asked Professor Kettleburn,” Charlie said disappointedly.

“Well if you want to go into the forest and do some research yourself, I could take you,” Remus said.

“You know about magical creatures?” said Jack, looking up at him. Remus smiled.

“I know a thing or two,” he said. “And I’d say that I have good enough knowledge of the forest to help you navigate your way through it safely.”

“Okay,” Amelia said, excitedly.

“I do have a condition,” Remus said. “No more night-time excursions.”

“Alright,” Charlie said.

“I mean it,” Remus said. “Don’t expect me to let this slide again if I catch you a second time.”

“Of course, sir,” Jack said.

“So I’ll see you three on Monday?” Remus said.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, grinning widely. “Thanks, professor.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus said, smiling warmly at them. “Now back to your common rooms and no detours.” They hurried off in the direction of the castle and Remus, shaking his head and smiling, turned back to the castle’s exit.

Remus Apparated outside their doorstep so that the noise didn’t wake Harry and when he opened the door, he was even more glad that he did because Harry wasn’t the only one sleeping. Sirius had fallen asleep on the kitchen counter, his head on his arms, a half-empty glass of wine just out of reach of his right hand, music playing softly from the CD player. Remus waved his wand at it and it fell silent.

“Sirius,” he said gently, stroking his husband’s hair. Sirius opened his eyes slowly and lifted his head off of his hands.

“Hey Moony,” he said in a sleepy voice.

“Hi Pads,” Remus said. “Come to bed.”

“I still have to shower,” Sirius groaned. “Oh and Harry wanted you to give him a kiss goodnight. He made me ‘smomemly swear’.” Remus laughed

“Did he really say that?”

“Yep,” Sirius said. “He was asking for you all day.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Remus said, turning to go to Harry’s room as Sirius stood up. “You should go shower though.” Sirius caught his hand before he could leave.

“Join me later?” he asked. Remus raised his eyebrows at him.

“Gladly, if you’re not too tired.”

“Too tired for you? Never,” Sirius smirked. Remus rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Go on then,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

---------

Sirius turned off the lights in the bedroom as Remus turned on the small lamp on his bedside table.

“So how was your day?” he asked, crawling under the covers.

“It was good,” Sirius said, joining him and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I slept till noon, picked Harry up— did you see that I went shopping for food and not clothes this time?”

“Oh bravo,” Remus said sarcastically, “should I give you a gold star?”

“Silly Moony,” Sirius said, “I am a star.” Remus shook his head and laughed.

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” he said.

“Yeah, you walked right into it,” Sirius grinned. “How was your day?”

“Oh you know,” Remus said, “marking essays, teaching students. My hot husband showed up and now the whole school is gossiping.”

“That was okay, right?” Sirius asked. “It’s not going to cause problems?”

“Nah, I doubt it,” Remus said. “People just think you’re very pretty and want to know what the hell you’re doing with me.”

“Does that make me a trophy wife?” Sirius joked. “‘Cause I’d make a good trophy wife.” Remus laughed.

“So did you give any detentions today?” Sirius teased.

“I did actually catch some third-years out of bed just before I got here,” Remus said.

“I hope you reported them, professor,” Sirius said, smirking.

“Nope,” Remus said. “I actually let it slide.”

“Remus!” Sirius said in mock surprise and disapproval. “You didn’t put these good-for–nothing rule-breakers in their place? I am shocked.”

“How could I report them? We used to do that all the time!” Remus said. “I never reported you, even when I was a prefect.”

“Yeah, but being a prefect and breaking rules is like if you were on the enemy side but the other side trusted you because they thought it was a good idea even though you’re still clearly on the enemy side. That’s the stupidity of the opposite side. But being a professor and breaking rules is like being a proper spy. You’re conspiring against your fellow professors by not reporting this, Rem. It’s espionage.”

“You are so full of bullshit, did you know that?”

“That’s why you love me,” Sirius grinned.

“No, no,” Remus said. “I love you in spite of that.” Sirius laughed. “And besides, those kids didn’t want to do anything bad. They’re just curious about the magical creatures in the forest.”

“That’s what they told you,” Sirius said.

“I believe them,” Remus said. Sirius raised his eyebrows skeptically. “If you met Charlie Weasley, you would too.”

“They sound like nerds,” Sirius said.

“Hey,” Remus said. “They’re kids, you can’t insult them.”

“I can’t believe you think that after hanging around with you for 15 years, dating you for 10 and being married to you for 6 I would use ‘nerd’ as an insult,” Sirius said. Remus laughed.

“Are you trying to tell me I’m a nerd?”

“Moony, you’re a teacher.” Remus laughed.

“Fair point.”

“What did you tell the kids though?” Sirius asked.

“I told them to go back to their common rooms and that I’d take them into the forest myself if they’re interested.”

“I bet they loved that,” Sirius said with a smile.

“You should’ve seen them,” Remus said. “They were ecstatic.”

“I knew you’d be a great teacher,” Sirius said. “I told you so.”

“You already said ‘I told you so’ when I got the job,” Remus said, “and after my first class. And many more times after that.”

“Yep,” Sirius said, “and don’t expect me to stop anytime soon.”

“Maybe you should come back to Hogwarts,” Remus said.

“What and teach? I don’t think so,” Sirius snorted.

“No, not as a teacher,” Remus said, “as a student. I have first-years who are more mature than you are.” Sirius laughed and pulled his husband in towards him. Remus winced and Sirius immediately backed away.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked, a look of avid concern in his eyes.

“No, it’s not your fault,” Remus said, closing his eyes. “Full moon’s on Friday.” Sirius nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

“Right,” Remus said, smiling at him. “You and your tattoo.” Sirius pulled up his shirt to reveal the moon-shaped tattoo on the left side of his ribs. It was a magical tattoo that changed to show the phases of the moon and right now it was nearly full. When he’d shown it to Remus for the first time in their 6th year, Remus had melted.

“You alright, love?” Sirius asked.

“I’m just sore, that’s all.”

“Moony, why don’t we give that potion a try?” Sirius said. Remus sighed.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Pads,” Remus said. A few weeks ago, there had been an article in the Daily Prophet about the Wolfsbane Potion. It was the new invention of a potioneer that allowed a werewolf to keep their mind when they transform. The potion wouldn’t cure lycanthropy — Remus would still transform into a wolf every full moon — but it could certainly make things easier.

“Why not?” Sirius asked gently. “It’ll help you, won’t it? What could be bad about that?”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Remus asked nervously.

“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll get through the full moon like we do every time. I’ll be in my animagus form, Remus, nothing bad will happen. And we know that the potion is safe to drink because the health department in the Ministry of Magic approved it; they couldn’t have done that without making sure it’s safe. Worst case scenario it does nothing and things will continue as normal.”

“Pads,” Remus started slowly, “it’s really expensive.” Sirius hesitated for a moment.

“We could draw some of the money that my uncle left me,” he said.

“No, I won’t have you wasting your money on me like that,” Remus said, shaking his head.

“Rem, it’s not wasting, this—” Sirius sighed. “Look, why don’t we give it a try? Just once. And if it isn’t that great and you still feel like it’s a waste of money then we don’t have to do it again but there’s no harm in trying.” Remus still looked hesitant. “It’s not even my money, really,” Sirius added.

“Your uncle left it to you,” Remus said. “Of course, it’s yours.”

“I wouldn’t have spent it,” Sirius said. “I don’t want any money from anybody in that family. But nothing would piss them off more than me using Black family money to buy the Wolfsbane Potion for my half-blood, werewolf husband.” Sirius grinned and Remus shook his head and smiled at him.

“Oh alright,” Remus said. “But we’re only trying. And you have to be in your animagus form the entire time.” Sirius nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, squeezing Remus’ hand and smiling. Remus smiled back before his mouth opened in a yawn. “Go to sleep, love, you’re exhausted.” Remus nodded, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “Good night, Padfoot.”

“‘Night, Moony,” Sirius said, turning out the bedside lamp before pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

Sirius closed his eyes as well, drifting off to the sound of Remus; breaths evening out as he sank deeper into sleep. And as he thought over the remains of that day, Sirius found himself feeling happy.

He missed Lily and James, it was true; he didn’t think he would ever stop missing them. But that didn’t have to mean that he couldn’t be happy. Here, today, with Remus and Harry, Sirius would let himself be happy. And he hoped that from somewhere, Lily and James could see them. He hoped they were happy too.

[wooahaes]

forget-me-nots

pairing: non-idol!joshua x gn!reader

prompt: ... your first love from here

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: n/a

daisy’s notes: i think about one (1) man sometimes... mr hong if ur single... i am here to talk abt why sunday morning is a masterpiece and mean it-

When Joshua reached out to you, saying he was moving back to the city and starting a new job, you’d been happy to talk to him. Plenty of “first loves” could end in tragedy, and you were glad that your relationship with him had been anything but. Life was taking the two of you in separate directions, and you mutually decided to end things on a good note and remain friends. He’d always text you on your birthday (sometimes sending flowers, if he could--always a pretty bouquet of little blue flowers that brightened you day when you saw them), occasionally you’d call him just to catch up while you were making dinner. It was cozy, and sometimes it felt like the two of you were still dating. But then he’d offhandedly mention a date, or you’d find yourself on another blind date, and reality would hit you again. Despite being separated, a part of you still loved him. And that same part of you always would, you were pretty sure.

When he asked if you two could get dinner sometimes, you hadn’t thought much of it. Both of you worked during the day, so dinner would be the ideal time if you wanted to meet anytime during the week. Plenty of friends would grab meals with one another.

What you didn’t count on was the same pretty blue flowers greeting you, along with one mister Joshua Hong, who was dressed cozy and warm and not in whatever work attire you’d expected, looking more radiant than spring. In some ways, he hadn’t changed. He was still that pretty, doe-eyed man you fell for back in college who seemed to emit the softest vibes. He’d dyed his hair and grown it out, and it felt like the change had helped him carry himself different. Joshua always seemed to be confident, but now...

Maybe it was the maturity. Maybe you had matured, too.

When he smiled at you, that had been it. The moment you needed to tell you that you were still deeply in love with Joshua and that you always would be. Love didn’t always fade, even after things ended. Love only became easier to carry, and if you had to carry these feelings forever, then you’d learn to bear that weight the same way other people did.

“You look great,” he said. “Sorry--” He looked down at the flowers, “I saw a store on my way over, and I thought of you. They’re forget-me-nots,” he looked up.

You don’t call him out on the fact that he sent you forget-me-nots for your birthday. You just accepted them and resisted the tiny urge to kiss him on the cheek, or to hug him, or to do anything but thank him with a giggle.

He pushed his hands into his pockets, smile falling. “I... I think I should be honest with you.”

You looked up from the flowers to see him hesitate now that your eyes met his own. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t just want to get dinner.” He took a deep breath. “I was talking to some of our old college friends, and you came up in our conversation, and Seungcheol asked why we broke up again. And... I didn’t really have an answer.”

“Shua, we broke up because we both wanted to pursue our careers,” you said, and then tried to lighten the mood, “am I that forgettable?”

He shook his head. “I just mean... I don’t know. I’m glad we kept in touch, but I always wanted...” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “More.”

“More?” You inquired, watching the way he took another deep breath and looked away. Was he blushing? You could see the faint ways his ears and cheeks were darkening.

He finally looked back at you. “I didn’t want to break up with you. But you brought it up, and you had really good points, and I thought that I might hold you back if I told you I wanted to stay together. Like... I wanted you, but I wanted you to be happy more. Does that make sense?”

Your heart leapt into your throat at that. Yes, the breakup had been your idea. He was pursuing a career in business. He’d be busy, and you knew he would spread himself too thin trying to worry about that and worrying about his friends and you. Breaking up had meant one less thing for him to actively worry about, even though he kept in contact with you. 

“I want to try again.” He kept his gaze trained on your face. “I miss you. If you don’t want to, I understand.” He fiddled with his watch, finally breaking eye contact with you. “I just needed to tell you. I’m sorry if it makes things awkward.”

All of it slowly sank in as the silence grew between the two of you. You were glad that things seemed to be mutual between the two of you already. With a tentative step forward, you caught Joshua’s attention back. Maybe it’s cliche and cheesy, but there was only one thought in your mind. All you did was lean forward, giving him the space to step back, to tell you no, to slow things down. But his lips pressed against your after a second of consideration, and he smiled when you threaded your fingers into his hair. Any closer and the flowers would be crushed between the two of you two, but all you had wanted to do was steal one quick kiss from him right then and there. You were thankful Joshua was your first love.

But, christ, there was nothing more you wanted than for him to be your last, too. 

He drew back, hands cupping your face. His thumbs traced over the apples of your cheeks as he smiled back at you. “Can I kiss you again?” He said, smiling still, only for that same pretty laugh you loved to break through as he dipped back. “Sorry. I just... I’m really glad it’s you.” He reached for your hand. “Let’s go get dinner.”

You happily slid your hand into his own, squeezing it tight. “Okay,” you said, “but you owe me a kiss.”

And if you fell in love a little more when he laughed, coloring your life once again, then you were more than happy to be completely in love with Joshua Hong.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.  

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.  

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Deliverance Chapter Three

Masterlist

Summary: That time has come to sort through the artefacts that have been sent to earth with you, and Clark finds he is less and less impressed with how krypton was governed.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Fluff,Angst, A/B/O, Mating mentioned, Heats mentioned, Swearing

Wordcount: 14000+

A/N; so this chapter is mostly information and backstory. I rewrote kryptons history becuase... I wanted to? Yeah any way i hope you all enjoy even it it drags.

Taglist: in reblogs

The days that followed were strange, you had gotten used to earth and its strangeness. You were also spending as much time outside as you could, soaking up the sun rays and laying in the grass, sometimes walking through the fields. Martha even had you helping her with some flowerbeds 'weeding' humans were funny creatures. The white and pink flowers were acceptable but the little fluffy yellow ones and tiny blue ones were not? They were 'weeds' and had to be pulled from the ground. Martha had given you a strange look when you asked to keep them but got you a little trough all the same and helped you plant your weeds. They lived on your windowsill and you watered them every morning. Clark found it cute and even added some to it wanting to help.

You felt much better now and your breathing had settled. It was bliss residing with your alpha. You'd learned that he had a job as a reporter- a news writer. Those things weren't really mentioned at home which surprized you when you realised just how important they were and how much time it took up. And speaking of importance, you got your papers! Your official human documentation. A certificate of birth, because humans rewarded their young with paper on their birth you found it funny but your new family had been adamant you were given this reward for being birthed. You also got a number for social security recognition, a schooling achievement diploma? And a passport? So you could fly? Which didn't make much sense to you when you could do that anyway... Or would be able to once you were completely acclimatised to this planet. It had been Clark's friends- A bat who arranged it all, which was nice... If not odd you thought a bat was a winged mammal but perhaps there was a different bat hybrid you wasn't aware of. You were now unofficially, official in your human life.

When Clark was away you missed him, but didn't? Martha kept you busy, filling in the holes of your earthly education. You found her to be a sweet and funny woman, she was wholesome and kind. Never once shying away from you like you had expected. You lived with her for the moment a spare room in the farm house had been converted for you. For some reason she would not let you stay in the same room as your mate, she said it was a human thing. Not that, it stopped Clark from sneaking in at night and curling up in the bed with you soothing you and kissing you. He would always chuckle with you stating 'he wasn't human so its okay' whilst snuggling you sweetly scenting and murring at you until you fell asleep. You never felt safer then in the arms of your alpha, snuggling tight against him pressing kisses to his chest and rubbing your cheek on the curls that covered it, digging your nose into them and sniffing, breathing him in falling asleep.

Your bond was growing stronger and stronger as the days past, even if you only managed a few hours at night and in the morning with him. Clark had to explain some strange things, for some reason you were both to wear a ring? When humans found their mates they gave each other rings and wore them on the left ring fingers it meant they were mates? Married? Martha had been a little upset over it at first but Clark said it was best to do it this way, you could have your wedding later, for now he will wait. Martha had been persistent but in the end gave up, it was hard for her to face the reality that her son was not human and he was trying his best.

You were happier then you thought you'd be on a alien world, you'd acclimatised for the most part and found your own earthling way. Even if Martha and Clark found it strange you refused to eat anything brown or plain. Or meat.

The concept of eating animals was very disturbing for you. On krypton animals were not eaten, well not animals like on earth. Kryptonian's ate what earthlings would call insects, non sentient beings. But then again the insects here were... Tiny, surprizingly so. But Clark had taken it in his stride, if you didn't want to eat meat he wasn't going to force you... But he made you eat lots of what he called your 'leafy greens'... Which didn't make sense to you because many of the leafy greens should just be called greens because brocca-broccile- baby trees! Didn't have leaves neither did the little green balls! P's? You think he called them p's. Just when you began to loose hope for delicious sustenance he surprized you. Mangoes. You loved mangoes and grapes and apples! Fruit any fruit. Martha and your mate had taken you to a human grocery store and you'd been drawn to the fruit section.

You walked into the store clutching at Clark's arm terrified, it was the first time being out and mingling with other humans. Once inside you looked about seeing a few humans scattered about the isles and relaxed. A wave of smells hit your senses making you cough.

"Breath, breath through it love... That's it good girl, good omega. Now hold on to me or the cart and stay with ma and me" Clark said rubbing your back leading you behind Martha walking past some special buys. After a few short minuets you relaxed and released Clark looking watching as the other humans walked about some with children some teenagers and even a few alone. The children drew your attention. Boys. Real little boys. Flesh and blood male children in little hats and shorts- clothing with cartoon race cars on them. You froze looking in awe. Felt the stutter.

"love?" he asked feeling you halt and tense. He instantly looked up and was on alert every bone in his body itching to protect you. To destroy what had spooked his tiny mate. He looked around for the danger but there was none, just a mother and her sons further down the isle.

"Look... Boys, young boys" you uttered slowly looking to the children holding a brightly coloured packet up to what you presumed was his mother pleading for the packet. The woman smiled and nodded letting them throw the packet into the cart and they continued down the isle.

"Yes love. I forget you've never seen a young boy have you" he hummed wrapping his arms around you from behind kissing the top of your head. You melted into him and shook your head still watching as the humans rounded the corner at the end of the shop.

"what do you think?" Clark whispered sweetly, amused and struck by the way you'd reacted to such a simple sight. A mother and sons, he forgot you'd never seen a boy before. He had been the last one on krypton.

"They... He was beautiful." you uttered slowly blinking still registering the image of a real live breathing male child.

"Ours will be better~ perfectly formed kryptonians a whole swarm" he said making you feel light and carefree, the thought of a litter- a true litter of your own pups made you quiver in anticipation.

"You-you'll give me pups?" you said softly trembling from head to toe. Clark hadn't made any inclination to wanting pups or to take your bond any further then the sweet caresses and cuddles he'd been gifting you. You'd not once spoke of anything beyond getting you settled into human life. Clark grinned awkwardly and nodded, he wasn't used to children being called pups and such, he was still coming to terms with the? Miscommunication between worlds and terminology.

"I will try my hardest, sons and daughters" he chuckled squeezing you tightly and pressed a long kiss to your head nuzzling your hair watching as the family disappeared. His heart swelled. A family, a real family. Children of his own in your little belly, with out fear of them being too much for you to handle. He could relax knowing you could handle their tiny kicks and nudges. You could survive a pregnancy and birth him healthy full term children. He had so many niggling little fears over trying to create himself a family with a human. Humans were weak, fragile, but with you? With you he could be exactly what he was. A kryptonian. A god among men. It was refreshing having someone he could truly relax around.

"Promise?" Came the tiny voice, breathless and pleading, huge doe like eyes blinking at him hopefully glazed in tears. He could feel the tremors through your bond, like someone twanging an elastic band, the vibrations of relief and excitement reaching him, tugging and pulling. It was as if you had feared he wouldn't give you children. And finally he had confirmed it.

"I promise little omega, as soon as I'm able you will be round and heavy~" watching as your eye grew wide and you purred at him rubbing your cheek to his as he craned down to kiss you, then scented him under his jaw. With an adorable flush and melodious gasp you pulled back looking around worried someone would know you'd scented your alpha.

"shh remember humans don't understand, they don't know what you did sweet pea" he uttered trying to sooth you. You had explained that scenting was seen as very private. It was... Like mating- the prequel to meeting, scenting was strengthening your bond and extremely intimate. To be caught doing it out side? It was very frowned upon, on krypton you'd get less disapproval if he fucked you out in the open!

"do not call me a p.. They are wretched things!... Call me... Something yummy" you complained not yet being aware that a sweet pea was a flower... And he wasn't calling you and actual pea.

"I apologise... You can be my little cookie?" he chuckled slowly it wasn't that he was laughing at you but he found it endearing how straight forward you were. If you didn't like something you told him out right. It was a nice change, you didn't seem to understand the whole human political correctness and subtlety. Your reasoning with Clark was that you could both feel the others feelings through the bond, so what was the point in lying. That would just complicate things. And he couldn't argue with your logic.

"what is a cookie?" you asked tipping your head to the side curiously. He did burst out laughing at that and shook his head squeezing you tight. Tighter then any human could handle, but that was part of the beauty in your relationship. You wasn't human, wasn't breakable. He could fully relax and touch you without fear of harming you. You were impenetrable... Well in that sense anyway~

"Something very sweet and delicious I promise~" he said kissing your head once more and ushered you down the isle slowly trying to find his mother, but still let you look around. You were curious and wanted to explore your new home planet and he wont ruin your first venture.

"Clark? Clark come and help me- I cant reach the milk! Its at the back again!" Martha said quietly you smiled. It took a lot of coaxing but you had indeed tried what Clark had explained as 'cow juice' and had developed a taste for it. So Martha had promised you milk every day if you liked. Which you did like. A lot. Clark pressed another kiss to you and walked off towards the milk refrigerators expecting you to follow.

You made to follow but a sweet scent hit you and you stopped mid step. It was wonderful and ripe, sweet and succulent. You pivoted and followed without much thought. Your feet found there way twisting around the display of 'leafy greens' to a bright colourful isle. You salivated at the smells. There were so many intoxicating scents you didn't know what to look at first.

You pressed a hand on a small net package full of strange green fuzzy balls. Kiwi's? You read and scrunched your face up at the peculiar name. Then plucked the bag up and held it to your nose sniffing. They smelled divine, like a type of food from home. Okriin a small sour sweet treat given to children on their birthing date. You sniffed again and almost cried. It was so similar but so different sweeter and fuller in the scent. You cautiously sniffed again and closed your eyes before tentativly prodding it with your tongue wanting to see if it tasted the same.

"y/n? Y/n?!- oh god there you are? What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack" Clark said racing towards you his mother behind him with the cart. He slid to a stop and blinked at you. As you scrunched up your nose.

"The texture of these are... Not very nice?" you said naively moving for the fruit again sticking your tongue out once more trying to discern if it was edible like this. Clark moved quickly gasping holding your hands that had the.. Kiwi's in it.

"no, no.. No we- you don't eat them like that... You peel them and eat the inside, and we don't lick things in the shop okay?" he explained with a teasing to his voice. Martha chuckled into her chest she couldn't help it, you were extremely cute.

"But? Then how do you know if you like it if you don't taste?" You frowned as Martha stifled a laugh. But she quickly curbed herself when you looked serious and a little upset. You didn't find it funny food was serious and had always been rationed, you were allowed only the portion you needed to stay healthy back home. Nothing more unless you could grow it.

"You buy it and eat it at home, then we can come and get more" Clark said drawing your attention once more. Your frown deepened. More? You could come back? That didn't sound right... or fair, Martha normally made one trip a week on the same day... wasn't that her alotted time for food shopping? Or was it by choice?

"More? But isn't there rules on how many trips a household makes?" You asked genuinely confused looking from your mate to his mother then back again. They both looked a little shocked by the idea of not being allowed to get food when they needed to. Martha even looked sad, shaking her head looking down.

"No love, there isn't... is there on kry-back home?" Clark asked, he almost sounded offended by the thought of being told when you can and cant go shopping.

"Yes. We have fifteen minuets for every member of your house hold that your shopping for and an alotted time every two weeks to pick up your rations" you said without batting an eyelash. Clark drew a deep breath, he had to admit he didn't like what he was hearing about your shared home planet. He found himself more and more relieved you were here with him and not in that? Authoritarian place.

"Did you lick anything else?" He said trying to move away from the topic, he was trying to get you used to this planet and this was your first time out and about in town. He wanted to move on, to let you be free and explore... preferably with him beside you.

"...If I do can we take it home?" You said tipping your head to him with a cheek grin. He chuckled and rounded you placing an arm around your waist and pokeing under your ribs in a freshly discovered tickle spot making you giggle.

"Silly thing you don't have to lick things for us to buy them, I suppose you liked the smell huh?" He enquired nodding to the Kiwis still clutched protectively in your hands.

"Yes it.. Its like something from home- a treat we had on our birthing day..." you nodded looking down plucking at the bright orange netting that kept four of the fuzzy fruit together.

"Then we shall get two packets love" he said plucking another pack of kiwis and placing them in the cart, he then looked to you as you scanned the isle still indulging in the amazing mix of smells and colours.

"Pick out a few more things to try, the mangoes are nice and juicy I think you'd like them." He said motioning to the colourful sweet smelling displays.

"R-really I can pick some?" You asked nervously twiddling your fingers and pulling onto the sleeves of your top.

"Yes love we don't ration here you can pick a few things to try, just promise me you wont lick any of it... at least not until we get to the car"  he said grinning as you nodded enthusiastically looking around suddenly full of childish glee. God help him when you try some candy, he has the feeling you'll have a sweet tooth.

"I promise!" You said happily and ran off to some of the other fruit that smelt divine and quickly picked a few.

Once you got home you watched Clark and Martha make a small platter of fruit for you. And you'd fallen inlove! Mangoes and pears were your favourite,  you didn't like grapefruit and should have listened when they told you not to eat a lemon... lemons were for juicing and flavouring other food, not for eating.

You smiled as you mulled over the day, that was the first day you saw the civilisation of your new home. Humans were free and unorganised. Chaotic but at the same time had made their own way to navigate the chaos of their world and one another. They were very similar to your kind. But it was hard, frightening! Suddenly you could do what you wanted when you wanted. Krypton in its desperation had taken many choices away, even the basic ones. Like how much food you could have per household, how many times you could visit the shopping districts or medical bays. You had laws on how much water you used, who could go where and when. and suddenly all that structure- all those rules were gone. You were to do as you pleased?

It was a frightening concept.

You padded across the small space to the barn with tentative steps, quivering knees. Clark was behind you a few feet trying to give you space, yet at the same time he was pressing himself though the bond. Warm and comforting reassuring you. He had learned in the past week that he could send messages through the bond. Almost whispers it was weird you didn't hear anything but you could feel his words, feel his probing. His soul was apart of you and your soul apart of him now. And you could communicate in such a deep way it- you almost felt as if you were one being.

Today you had decided to go through the ships cargo hold and start removing some things up to your room. It had been something you put off but it was time to begin answering more questions, time to give our alpha his heirlooms and books. Your job now was to help him learn all about krypton and its past.

Clark darted forward opening the doors to the barn letting you and Martha in. You'd decided to let Martha help, she deserved it she was your surrogate mother now after all. Last week she'd started asking you to call her Ma too.

You moved towards the tarp covering the ship and pulled at it making the crinkling plastic fall the  inched forward pressing a hand to the door to the pod. You froze, flashes of the moment you'd been wrestled into the pod crossed your mind. The fear and agony of knowing you were going to be there end. Kill your parents. But it was to late, it had been too late then and it was too late now.

"Omega? Are you alright?" Clark said standing behind you curling one arm around your frame, the thick forearm resting over your tummy at your waist.

"Yes, its... The last time saw this was when" you trailed softly, you knew he could feel the fear and despair as you replayed those final moments with your family over and over. You hand been strong enough to hold on to your mother or father. You hadn't had enough grip to pull them into the ship with you, and your lack of strength cost them their lives.

Clark murred into your shoulder, his other hand stretching out smoothing his palm over yours pinning it you the surface of the door. He could taste the anxiety, the overwhelming frantic terror that had overcome you as your bond soured your memories haunted you. In the night you'd cry out for them and jolt awake sobbing your heart out. But you'd never spoke about what ha actually happened.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" He said quietly pressing his chest to your back needing to touch his sweet omega, the overwhelming drive to comfort you was almost painful.

"I don't think it would help... I shouldn't feel bad, its what i had been commissioned for. We all new our purpose" Clark paused. What? You had barely spoke about krypton, but from what you had mentioned he had a very... unimpressed view of it. The world sounded totalitarian and harsh everyone leading a hard life of duty. But he had never pushed you, he could tell you still mourned the planet despite its shortcomings.

"C-commissioned? Purpose? What do you mean?" Martha muttered moving closer to you both. She too was curious, her and Clark never thought they would have this chance, that they could learn everything about the planet of his birth or his race. But you were it. Their answers a living breathing kryptonian that had resided on krypton! You knew everything they wanted to know and probably more. They had been trying to hold back their questions it would seem that you may finally be up to answering them.

"Krypton is... Was like... North Korea? The one shut off from the world? But... stranger, its hard to explain without knowing our history we had our reasons and failures" you trailed off, you was unsure where to start, the troubled past of your race was woven into its present, well not present as today but... the final era of krypton. Everything leading up to the day you were shipped off from the planet. There were complications, twists and turns that you might not be able to explain properly.

"Please, I'd like to know" his voice was small and sweet, almost naïve in a sense. You got the feeling of a curious desperation from your bond. It made you grin, he was trying so hard to hold back for your sake, he truly was the perfect mate both considerate and loving, there was a gentleness about him that many alphas are said to have lacked. It must come from being raised on this planet, growing up around being so much weaker then he is that has moulded him to hold such a sweet sense of  nurturing. After all your mate was the golden son, a living breathing god on earth.

"I know... come I have books and artefacts in the cargo hold, I will give them to you and you can read" you said with a shy smile, you warm giddy feelings traveling along you bond making him murr once more managing to hit the all important melodious sound that was the unique soul song you'd both began naturally harmonizing. You stood and pulled from Clark and walking a small way down the ship. You pulled a hidden hatch open jerking a lever up and then pulled and twisted before releasing. You were quite impressed at how easily you'd done it. The suns rays had made you immensely strong already. Soon your be flying hopefully!

Clark hovered over you, making sure to stand in between the ship and his mother. A large gust of air and a whirring sound resounded and you stepped back. There were several clunk's and metallic creaks then the whole side of the craft pealed away like a set of curtains a thick corsetina of metal revealed a large cargo hold the three of you could just fit in.

There were shelves and cases piled high inside. All of krypton's most valuable artefacts, your whole history in the small stalagmite keys. Just like the one Clark had been sent to earth with. But these held information, schematics of incredible tech, medicines and encyclopaedia's. Not only about krypton but other planets and races that could cause a threat.

The there were the texts for your pups. The very same you had used to study as a child. You tip toed inside looking around feeling your heart break. This was all that was left of a whole civilization. A case of ceremonial robes, some crown jewels. Seeds for a few important plants- even a small rack with some mature plants that were being grown in a small self sustained pod. It was a true treasure trove.

"Wow this is? Incredible"

"Everything in here is... significant to our kind- here these are the books to start with they will tell you what krypton went through... a child's guide to our history" you said scooping up the books you'd studied and handed them to Clark. He moved slowly taking them from you running his fingers over the image on the book.

You walked off around a small shelf trying to find your chest- the things your parents had been allowed to pack for you. You had to find it and get over those emotional tugging in your chest. You had a lot to explain and had to have a clear head on your shoulders.

Martha stood close by the exit as she watched the two of you potter about the ship. It was both frightening and exhilarating for her. She was glad they had thought about all this, about giving both you and Clark things to remember krypton by. She moved to step behind Clark peeking at the book he was flicking through and was surprized to find she could read it. Everything was in perfect English.

"This is? Are they all in English?" She asked turning to you who was still wandering around becoming upset clearly looking for something in particular.

"Yes, they needed to make sure kal-clark would be able to read it" you said comeing around the other side of the shelves and stood beside them both. Clark turned around eyeing the book seeing what looked like propaganda filling the pages. It was disconcerting he was slowly becoming aware that krypton was not the magical place he had envisioned but a very draconian type of civilization. He didn't want to read pages of scripted drivel. He wanted the truth. He closed the book and eyed you then held to book out to you.

"I'd like to learn from you... if its not to much to ask love? These books will paint a rosey picture, I want to know the reality what people actually thought of our planet" he said still offering you the book. You held your breath debating for a moment, but finally breathed out a sigh and took the book from him. Agreeing.

You moved to the side of the ship and sat down letting your feet rest on the steps. Clark and Martha followed your lead taking seats beside you.

You kept quiet for a moment pondering over what was most important to start with. Your evolution. Then your genealogy, the great mistake and population crisis and the laziness that followed. The selfishness and finally his own story, the story of the golden sons escape and the new age. The final short 31 year age. And your delivery.

You opened the page showing some images of the first ever 'proper kryptonians' and held it open letting both Martha and Clark lean over to see. It was like a family story time.

"Okay... So kryptonians evolved just like humans did millions of years ago.  But unlike humans we kept more of our animal like instincts, we retained pack mentality" you said pointing out the different images of the evolution.

"Alpha and omega's?" Clark asked curiously as his eyes scanned the page. There was a list for each. Alpha were bigger and stronger, more dominant and protective, fierce and very potent. They were more economic and able to draw more power from little radiation. Omega petite, defensive, skittish and shy. Nurturing and extremely fertile. Submissive.

"Yes and betas they aren't an extreme like omega and alpha. They are more balanced but much less fertile. We have one mate, one soul bond once its made you cant deny it, but its also a problem." You flipped a few pages to the mate bond section where there were a few images of couples and some more little bullet points. Of which you covertly covered, they didn't need to know about sex or knots or heat yet... you would explain to Clark later... alone.

You flushed unable to stop your mind wandering. Images of you finally bonding with Clark, the undulating hips and breathy moans resounding in your ears. All leading to a great finale of his bite, his canines would prick your skin clamping down not only marking you but to hold you still as his cock swelled and pressed your walls tight trapping you to his huge frame. It was said to be painful and euphoric the feeling of absolute unity. Apparantly omegas can panic when their alpha knots them for the first time, the bite would make you freeze and still for him enough to fully penetrate you. He'd knot you for a long while tying you to him both mind body and soul as he saturated your insides claiming your body for himself.  You swallowed, nervously. You couldn't wait to finally be claimed, but you were also nervous. He was large even for an alpha and there was no doubt in your minds he was well proportioned.  

Clark noticed you begin to blush and squirm, your scent changing becoming both sweeter and musky he leant over you trying to peek at what you were hiding. He snuck a hand around behind you and tried pulling on your elbow to see what your were trying to hide.

"Oh no come on love what are you hiding there?" He teased and pulled tugging you closer making you whine and pull back.

"No that's nothing just its err our sex education and we don't need to go into that yet!" At the mention of sex Clark stiffened and released your elbow but remained wrapped around you.

"Oh right well then.. we know all about that so there no need to... explore that topic" Clark said flushing brightly but you paused... should you tell him?

"Well err you... you will have to there are.. some difference to having sex with... others then your mate, things are... different when your body knows it can impregnate its partner. So you need to err... I've got books for you to read in private" you flustered flicking your eyes quickly from Martha to your mate trying hard not to imagine him but ass naked stroking his cock readying himself to mount you. Clark didn't seem to realise you were becoming nervous and quickly spoke up slightly confused by the way you'd worded your statement. But then again he found a lot of the things you said strange. You wored things differently, and sometimes used the wrong words altogether! As much as krypton prepared you it sort of hadn't? Your English was good but... Not completely accurate.

"Different when you can impregnate? What's that supposed to mean, I've had sex... It was normal human sex" you whined and lowered your head feeling a little upset. Your mate almost sounded offended, like you'd undermined him or doubted his ability... You felt a little shamed over it, you hadn't intended to insult him. You turned to him your panic of displeasing him washed away your nerves of having the sex talk. You rested a hand on his thigh squeezing it before beginning  to explain that you wasn't belittling him it was just genetics.

"You cannot conceive with anyone other then your soul mate... It just doesn't happen. Is impossible, we were taught that its because your genes are only compatible with that of your mate, your other half. Pairings aren't always omega and alpha either, they can be anyone with anyone, but most alphas have an omega" you said trying not to go into detail but Clark merly blinked at you nodding wanting you to continue as he soaked up every word.

"And there are... Things that... Happen during sex with your soul mate, your err... Anatomy changes... And err expands? I suppose? Our bodies do what they must to... To try and... Conceive.." you finally stuttered through the images your mind conjured. Mind drifting to all the uncomfortable classes full of giggling girls and unamused teachers explaining knotting and ejaculation with a huge image of a penis on the board... You flushed word on the school playground used to be the size of a balled fist was the size of your mates knot. You swallowed eyeing Clarks hands, though not balled up he had then curled up loosely. You clenched, for some reason the thought of him being such a large male made you very ,very excited and anxious. The larger a male the more chance there was at having a successful mating because he would be deeper and nothing would escape. Fuck.

You shook your head swallowing dryly. Now was not the time, thoughts like that were dangerous and could trigger a heat, something you didn't want to happen until he was aware of what was to come. You wanted him to be fully aware of heats, ruts knotting the full process before in sighting anything. He was still immensely stringer than you, if he were to have you now and panic whislt knotting he could pull free and tear you. And you didn't want that.

"soo i get a... Super erection or something?" he said with a huge smile both teasing and boasting, sitting up straighter unknowingly posturing, preening like a little peacock as humans would say. You made to reply flushing a deeper red, beginning to feel a tad dizzy with all this blood rushing to your head. But luckily Martha interrupted and waved her hands making a slicing motion trying to literally cut the conversation short.

"Right okay! Enough of all that" she said managing to move your arms that were still covering the very crude generic drawings of an alphas cock, you moved letting the human turn the page which lead to the next stage of your peoples history.

"But Ma?!" Clark complained eyes loosing their amused shimmer only for him to pout at the human clearly upset that he wont be having a full sex talk with you. And you couldn't be more thankfull because you only had books and a school sex education to go by, you'd never actually seen a real one before, so didn't really have any grounds to be teaching anyone anything about them. Least of all your much older, more experiance alpha mate.

"But nothing Clark, she said she has a book so you can read the damn book! There will be no hanky panky anytime soon do you understand me?" she scolded in a final motherly tone making you giggle into your hand. Your alpha was very cute when he pouted, blue eyes wide and a perfect downturned frown on his lips, the pink bottom lip pressed forward in a sweet gesture. How the perfectly masculine sharp angular male could be both stunning and adorable was beyond you. But he was just perfect.

"Yes Ma" he sighed looking more and more disheartened but then nudged your side and sent you a wink before raising his brows suggestively. You squeaked and looked to the book in your lap once more feeling your ears go red under his provocative gaze. He huffed a quiet chuckle and purred low in his chest. You felt it the warm yet prickly sensation of your mate. Is was playfull, like when someone lightly ghosts a finger over your inner arm? A slight tickling sensation that made your skin goose bump and tingle. You knew this feeling well, you had been pleased to know your alpha wasn't all work and no play. He was actually a very fun loving man, he liked teasing you playfully and always managed to make you laugh or blush. He enjoyed you being both happy and flushed they seemed to be his favoured reactions and he would go out of his way to cause them.

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

Martha had said he just seemed happier, younger like a little teenager again. But this time without all the angst. Like you had somehow drawn away the worries he had. Apparantly as he took the mantle of superman he had lost himself along the way. He wasn't cruel or mean but he was stressed. Martha had said he was beginning to question himself, ask if it was worth it, if anything was worth it anymore. He took on more and more responsibility and was working himself into the ground. But now he wasn't?

He had you to come home too, he had something more to fight for. She said Clark saw you as his reward in a sense. You were his future, the life he had always wanted but could never hope for. Martha said you'd saved him. You wasn't sure if you really believed her, how could you save him when all you have done is sleep and refuse to eat anything other then fruit.

"Clark you might be more convincing if you wiped that smirk off your face... I'm serious, let y/n settle before risking any children okay?" the woman deadpanned making him shrug and chuckle at her.

"Aw that's no fun I already promised. Didn't I sweetheart?" he teased still eyeing you managing to ignore his mothers scathing look as he tried to get you to look at him again. And like an idiot you did spare him a quick glance, well you thought it was quick but somehow he managed to wink at you again blowing you an over exaggerated kiss.

"Clark Joseph Kent!" Martha snipped quickly a much firmer warning in place making him sigh and roll his eyes at his mothers use of his full name. He could see her point but he had to admit he was a little put out with her.. His mother had an issue with your age, even though your twenty two in earth terms you still did look the part of a teen all be it a nineteen year old, but teen none the less. She was uncomfortable with the idea of him bedding you and wanted you both to wait. But Clark didn't have an issue with it, you were his omega. He was your alpha and neither you or he were humans. So why live your lives by human rules? Besides the paperwork was all set up. Legally your not a minor here you just look young, many women did.

"Yes, yes fine, no sex yet jeez" he acquiesced giving in for the moment not needing another lecture. As much as he loved his mother; and he truly did. But his sex life was none of her business and he will fuck you when you were ready and willing and there was nothing that will get in the way of that. Not even the woman who raised him.

"Glad to hear it son. Oh don't give me that look you know it makes sense... Now dear why don't you continue, both Clark and i would love to here about your history" Martha scolded then rolled her eyes at her supposed 'adult' son who was pouting. You smiled uneasy but nodded. You learned quickly that Martha ruled the roost, but it was still strange for you to watch. You'd been raised to see Kal as a god- a saviour and your races true hope. Watching the man you'd all but worshipped be scolded by a human was... confusing. But you just let it be, you were realising humans were much more complicated then you were lead to belive.

"yes of course..." you paused clearing your throat quickly looking at the open page then flipped it seeing the next images. The ships, and graph of births declining... the population crisis, the beginning of the mighty kryptonians demise.

"When our people began scouting the galaxy less and less found their soulmates because we were soo scattered and so pairings dropped and so did births which began effecting economy and age gap parings suffered because their mates werent being born. Suddenly things took a nose dive mates weren't being born families were suddenly being cut short and many bloodlines died off... Over sixty percent of noble houses were wiped out in three decades, suicides were on the rise there was no point to life if you couldn't be happy or have a family" you explained flipping another page letting the both of them get their fill. Both pages were full of house crests and a little information on what each one represented, what their houses did for krypton notable mentions and such.

You flipped again this time showing images of the amniotic chambers. Huge glass towers that grew 'artificial' kryptonians. It was a leap forward in science. They had learned to play god, create life without any comprises. Your own eyes scanned the image a small foetus in a sack and a few around it larger and more developed. It was how your own life began.

"We turned our attention to a amniotic chambers, scientists and doctors could suddenly make anyone children! Mates or not. There was a huge baby boom but, it did nothing for the planet or its people" you explained slowly even saying it sounded strange now that you were older, but then again you'd been taught that this had been wrong. This it was the mistake that had started krypton's downfall. You'd been raised in the old ways, with old values.

"Over time it was seen as primitive to actually seek out your mate and birth a child naturally even having sex became pointless. Why go through that pain when you could have one made and delivered to you when its born?"

"So they were farming babies?" Martha asked incredulously unable to fathom such a thing. It was far fetched, the idea to make fake children? To be able to have a child without carrying them or birthing them but they were your own flesh and blood?

"Yes Ma, but more then that... when we turned our back on natural birth and mates we lost a lot of ourselves and had to use a codex to give the new generations traits and keep some semblance of our race instincts... but even that became political all birthed children had to become more beneficial to society. Loyal, strong, intelligent, beautiful, compassionate, nurturing. And at the same time you could choose the look of your child, their sex, their presentation." You explained voice getting smaller as you spoke it was uncomfortable to talk about parents could determine everything about you. Your sex, pigmentation personality, hell your parents could choose specific moles and birthmarks of they wanted a late 'morphing' session a few weeks before you were born.

"Presentation?" Martha frowned not fully understanding. You nodded to her sparing a glance before quickly looking away. It was strange explaining anything that remotely eluded to pairings and mating with her. She was a human and didn't understand. You found it unnerving, everyone just knew these things back home.

She didn't understand it and sometimes it frustrated her making her snip at you and Clark. She didn't mean to but it was just hard for her to fathom a race evolving and still retain some animal primitive instincts. Humans didn't keep much of theirs, the only ones you were aware of was their self preservation- their undeniable need to stay alive for as long as possible apart from that? They had escaped everything else. The bottom line was humans didn't have soul mates and Kryptonians did, and no matter how much the woman wished Clark was a human, he wasn't and he never would be. Martha had been able to ignore it on a day to day basis. To all intents and purposes when Clark wasn't in his suit she could pretend he was normal. Until you came along.

Not that you think she didn't like you, because she loved you, you were sure of it. It was just, sometimes Martha had to look away as you and Clark bonded. She didn't see mates, she saw her adult son fawning over a love struck teen.

"Will they be alpha, beta, omega or a new non-type" you hummed quietly trying not to dwell on the subject not wanting to upset her. Martha drew in a deep breath and nodded to you soaking up the information. You could see she was trying, she wanted to understand it was difficult for her.

"So if I wanted a blue eyed blonde boy I just had to say?" She said veering off topic slightly wanting to move on swiftly but didn't want to out right say 'lets talk about something else'

"Sort off, eyes can only be dark. Blue, green, pink, grey and amber eyes were traits only found in true borns, these traits died out. Everyone had a dark brown or black eyes occasionally you could have a very dark blue or green but bearly noticeable"  you brushed over the topic as quickly as you could whislt still giving a few extra details. Clark grinned at you and made a passing comment of 'that's why my eyes fascinated you soo much?' Both he and Martha chuckled as the comment made you flush and nod slightly. It was true, you'd been enamoured with his eyes never having seen blue before... and they were soo blue it was like looking into the purest cleanest pools of water your ever seen! Gorgeous and vibrant. it had been a little ongoing tease of Clarks commenting that you were 'staring again' when ever he caught you gazeing at his azure crystal clear eyes.

"Krypton was quickly overpopulated and began draining our planets resources quicker, then they looked to the core... the beating heart of the planet" you said turning the page adamant you were not going to be caught up eyeing him again for the hundredth time today.

"And they drained it?" Clark said leaning mover your shoulder looking at the diagram of krypton that briefly explained how the core was depleted and what a calamity it was.

"Yes. It took a millennia but we bled our planet dry... It became a dry desolate place but had huge glistening cities! Technology you could only dream of! Krypton was the envy of many other planets, our military might alone ended wars in days..." Clark frowned. Military? So not only did krypton become a harsh dictatorship they had been going to war? Enough that they were a feared adversary?

You winced as Clarks face darkened at the mention of war. He didn't like fighting and killing but krypton? In its hay day was the front runner. Its military protected the planet but also dominated. It you wanted to win a war it was the kryptonians you wanted on your team, your soldiers were bred for war, just like the omegas were bred for breeding. Clark growled, eyes skimming the page that praised and boasted about the great many wars that they had won, the enemies they had crushed. You swallowed and flipped a few pages quickly skipping the small chapter on the military past.

You skimmed the next page quickly, there were no images on the next few pages. You paused remembering when you'd first worked studied this chapter. You'd been around eight years old, sitting in Mrs Nirn's class chewing your pen as you read ahead zoning out.

You had wanted to understand why things were so different from what your parents upbringing had been. You wanted to know why there were no little boys in your class, why were the lights off? Why couldn't you have a little sister like your father? Everytime you asked an adult they always vaguely mentioned 'things aren't how they were before' but no one had ever answered your follow up questions 'before what? What happened?'  And this was the chapter that explained everything, that shed light on your peoples recent history.

"Love? Mate are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly watching as you seemed to drift off into your own little world. You jumped and faced him as his warm palm met with your back, slow soothing circles rubbing your tense form slowly. You smiled uneasily and nodded to him before taking a deep breath. He had to know, it was your duty to teach him what happened. It was your place to enlighten him on his own importance, he had a right to know how he got to earth.

"W-We began racing towards calamity there was huge protests, people realised we were not going to last and there would be no escape. But the government decided to call a meeting over it- Jor El decided to plead the council to stop the mining but he was ignored the meeting was just for show a ruse to try and quell the masses... Then Lara began pleading with them to think of the consequences" you said quickly finding your voice again recounting the events that began his own story, the role his parents had played in the prolonged survival of the planet and that ultimately lead you to him.

"My parents?" He said slowly recognising their names once more. You nodded glancing to Martha, you didn't really want to keep bringing up your alphas birth parents in front of the woman you didn't want her to get upset or think she was any less significant. Lara may have birthed your mate. But Martha had raised him, shaped him into the glorious gentle and caring male that he was. Martha seemed to know you were worrying over upsetting her and smiled encouragingly before  placing a reassuring hand on your back below Clarks patting you sweetly.

"I'd like to know too dear, I want to know about the people who gave me my son" she cooed slowly making you bite your lip and take a deep breath muttering a meek 'okay if your sure' under your breath.

"They were strong and kind, serious though and realistic. They both avidly protested about the continued abuse of the planet and warned about the imminent destruction of krypton... it wasn't until to coup that anyone new why."

"Why? What was the reason?" Clark said eagerly paying you his full attention. He was both excited and anxious about learning of his actual parents, everything he thought about krypton seemed to be wrong. On a whole he'd convinced himself that his home planet was almost a mythical place that was good and pure perfect! But it was the complete opposite, he didn't want his fantasy of perfect parents to be shattered too. And there was always the fear he'd been abandoned simply because he was an unwanted child or defective in some way.

"She was pregnant with the first natural son of krypton. They didn't want you to be born just to die after a few weeks of life. You were born in your family home. No doctors or machinery, nothing but your mother and father." Clark let out a breath soaking in the information. Zod was right. Jor was telling the truth? He truly was the first natural born kryptonian? It was there in black and white! Not hear say! He didn't have much time to relish in the relief as you continued quickly.

"A few days after your birth Zod made his move to attack the council, his move was partly spurred on by the civil unrest and protests all over the planet." Another few pages were turned as you bypassed all the nitty gritty details of the coup and violence, the protests  and downfall of many proud houses dragged out of their homes, the riots and looting as the military began fighting internally and the police force all but abandoned their duty.

"My birthday?" Clark said lightly dragging his fingers over an image of himself. A still taken from the footage of his birth, he was in a small oval crib with a blanket over his waist and lower half. Beside him was Lara and Jor watching over him. And at the top of the page a date. Both in kryptonian and earths calendar.

"May? I was born in May? Ma look!" He said sniffing quietly looking at the page in awe. That was him, his parents! They were there! He gazed at the image excitedly, he never new his real birthdate, his parents had guessed but here it was. The exact date! His actual real birthday. He wasn't an Aries. He was a Taurus. He never believed in star signs but, somehow he felt better knowing.

"I see that son, you were perfect and so tiny~" she said slightly tearful herself. This was bittersweet, she had to listen and watch as her son, the boy she raised found out the truth of how he came to her. She didn't doubt he loved her but she was always frightened of him leaving her behind in a way, the terror of him forgetting her and choosing someone else replacing her was almost too much. But at the same time Martha owed a lot to the couple that had entrusted her with their son, she would be lying if she wasn't curious about them and the reason Clark was here.

"Your father in an effort to protect you entered the amniotic chamber and stole the codex. He was hunted for it but by the time anyone could intervene or arrest him it was to late. He had sealed the codex inside of his son. He was the final kryptonian so should be able to carry all traits." You explained turning the next page seeing the image of the chamber Jor ha infiltrated. The codex sitting proudly in place.

"He.. he risked his life? To save me?" Clark breathed out barely whispering the words as he leant forward clasping his hands together tightly. You faltered and looked to him shocked, he hadn't known? You all new that Kal was sent to earth with a stalagmite key with his fathers conscious, had Clark not managed to activate it? Here were ships all over this planet, kryptonians had tried to settle here but... For some reason they just couldn't seem to survive for long. No one knows why, connection was lost.

"He... Gave his life to save you. Zod was the one who caught onto your fathers plan and... He confronted him and your mother. Tried to kill you, your existence; the proof of a natural born was... it would have destroyed his cause... it would have proved him wrong" you uttered slowly unsure how you could tell him the truth without upsetting him, it was a delicate matter. Clark ushered you closer managing to tuck you under his arm holding you as close as he could to his side, then began murring out at you as he felt the nerves, the tangled feelings of fear , grief regret and sorrow. Each one coiling around the other making for an uncertain overbearing pull.

You didn't mean to but you were tugging the bond, looking for approval. Nervously searching for some inclination that he was alright. Prodding at him tentatively trying to peak at his feelings. But you were still uncertain of how to do it without being pushy? On krypton it was said to be unseemly to pry at your mate, normally things flowed freely to forcefully take a look deeper into your mate was... rude and could be construed as not trusting your mate.

Clark didn't know that though. Was it bad? Cruel of you to omit that little social detail so he wouldn't be annoyed at you for it? Was it manipulating? Clark hummed leaning his head ontop of yours, resting his cheek on your crown and placed a sweet kiss to your hair.

"I know... I- he told me on the ship when I found out about krypton... when he told me of mates" he said calmly. You released a low whine nodding to him purring up at him as your shoulders relaxed, slumping once more in relief. You'd been wound up over that. It wasn't like his father would be alive now anyway, but telling him of his families demise wasn't really something you took pleasure in.

"O-oh.. okay well then...err your father was a warrior and fought him, he gave your mother enough time for her to launch your ship. Zod finally over came your father but it was too late, you were almost out of the atmosphere." You swallowed steeling yourself as you continued your tale, recounting the incredible events that had taken place, changing history and the fate of your race.

"Zod instructed all his units to shoot you down, but your mother had used a incredibly illegal amount of resources to make sure your ship's boosters and armed defences were at peak and you made it out"

"So That's really how I left? During all that? I thought Jor had dramatized it... but he hadn't and.." Clark trailed off in thought. He was telling the truth he had been a little sceptical, he couldn't help it he had over thought it afterwards. Managing to think himself into doubting Jor's story picking at it, almost convincing himself the story was a little too convenient.

"It got worse, zod and his men were sent to the phantom zone and your mother was tried for treason. But everything stopped when the footage came through." Martha who had remained quiet listening to you patiently taking in the new information.

"Of what?"

"Clarks birth, it was the first time in centuries anyone had managed to naturally birth a son, a true born son. It was big news and that when the council began to listen, really listen" you shrugged unsure how to explain the magnitude of what Clarks birth actually meant. Unless you were a krypton native you just didn't get it. You  finally closed the book and held it in your lap eyeing both Clark and Martha.

"Then the laws changed krypton accepted its fate, it would die. But not without hope for its race to continue. And that's how we ended up as we were... the draconian backwards planet." You didn't go into detail, over the past few weeks you'd let things slip. Martha and Clark both shared a look. You were almost ashamed of your home. The differences between the totalitarian measures your people resorted to were frowned upon in this country. You felt stupid in a sense. You knew it was only natural to be slightly out of touch on this new home but? You just hadn't realised how much. The freedom and basic human right's you'd been denied! You were taught to belive in Kal. He was effectively used as propaganda, as a reward. If your good and obedient he will accept you. If not? Then you will fail both him and your race.  

"The council watched you used as much energy as it could spare to watch you grow. Then you presented! Alpha, just as we'd hoped. Overnight everything changed again, we had hope and direction. Children were commissioned once more females only, and only women that have a recessive omega gene were allowed to have a child..." you reiterated the fact that females were the only gender allowed to be created. It was the most important rule of your people in the end. Only a female omega could replenish a race.

"But couldn't you make them omega? You said you could choose things like that?" Martha asked frowning not following. You cursed and shook your head you knew you'd confuse them somehow by leaving something out. It was difficult trying to remember all the details about the last chaotic years of krypton.

"No, with the codex gone we couldn't control the genes as much, we could force the child to be female but that was about it. They tried but it was hard creating a definite omega no one could really tell until we presented many were betas or the non type there were very few of us. It was just pot luck." And it was pot luck, out of one hundred girls only fifteen to seventeen would be omega. If the percentage were over that in a generation then it was seen as a 'bumper crop'

"We were made and raised to be your omega. Every one of us was taught about earthling ways. Taught about how to birth and raise pups."

"You were raised to be my mate?" Clark said frowning. He found it strange. You bit your lip chewing on it. You debated on how much he really needed to know, because  honestly now you were here? And experienced earth first hand, now you'd met and spent time with your alpha. You understood how... creepy it would be? But then again if you lied he could realise you had when he reads more of the books here. You drew another breath releasing your lip from between your teeth and hissed quietly deciding it would be best to tell him.

"Yes. Our whole education was based on you and was meant to prepare us for life on earth. You have to understand, you were worshipped like a god. You had the abilities of our earliest ancestors." You began trying to dull down the in depth education you'd received about his upbringing and family. Yet still make him understand just how ingrained he was in your upbringing.

"You are? The epitome of the perfect kryptonian,  proof of how great we once were! Your the perfect male. Being your omega was-is the greatest honour any kryptonian could have. And the only way to survive, only Kal's omega would have the last of the cores power used on her to move her off planet. Her saftey was the most important thing" you explained finally petting him see just how incredibly precious he was. His eyes grew wide as he truly began to understand. This wasn't all talk, and you hadn't been joking when you called him the golden son god among men. That's what you all believed. He was worshipped. It was a sobering thought.

Clark tightened his hold of you hand trembling, palm a little sweaty against your hip. He made to speak but didn't seem to be able to find any words. He couldn't make a sound. It was too surreal for him. Some called him a god here, but he was able to just brush it off, ignore it as an exaggeration. But on krypton? They had meant it. Literally.

"So every girl was raised to... Become Clark's wife? To have children? That's it? No ambitions of your own just... grow up and have babies?" Martha uttered quietly but there was an underlying sadness, she seemed to be offended for you. Which you found peculiar, here the lines of gender were blurred. Krypton raised females to breed, then once they present they were taught other skills to be useful and pay their way.

"Yes. It was... Just how things were, we were taught how to raise children and what to expect with Kal... taught to cook and earthling ways to an extent mainly laws and language but mostly our education was about history and child rearing." You said of handedly trying not to incite anger from the woman. You knew it was hard for her to imagine your homeland. It was harsh and soo different from here. There were regimes like krypton on this planet but they were seen as hostiles and stood against everything this country stood for.

"How did they know? I mean with you? How did they know your were mine"  Clark said quickly managing to intercept what he believed to be a long rant from his mother. She had already made up her mind about krypton, she hadn't said it but she didn't need to her face said it all.

"Your mark apparently we share a mark which is unique to our bond and yours had activated. The council called all the omegas that had presented and searched for your mark. I was the one to have it. I was your mate" you said vaguely to be honest you didn't even understand it properly yet, it was one of the things you were hoping to find out looking through these books.

"And then after finding it they sent you here?" Clark uttered quietly. He was soo wrapped up in loving you, understanding these instincts and just basking in your presence. That he hadn't really stopped to think about the actual journey, surely it had been your choice? Especially when the cost was soo great. But there was a foreboding in your demeanour it left a heavy cold feeling in his gut.

"Yes. My parents- they had five minuets to say good bye and load me into the ship. The council didn't want to cause a panic and wait, I was wrestled into the ship by my father" you spoke weakly. You hadn't thought much about it, you had nightmares. But that was it, you tried avoiding it, blanking it out... not unlike the adults as you were growing up. In your head there was here and now on earth with your alpha and then before. Before became the codename for life on krypton. Before meant your parents, the rules, pain and fear! Before meant anxiety and death.

And now? Now was the time to let them know. Sure they understood the logistics. You were sent here to your mate. But they didn't know the actual story- the chain of events that lead to your arrival. And for the first time since getting here you needed to get it off your chest. Let it out and be done with this chapter finally let go of the fear and guilt you'd bottled up.

"I was terrified, and I fought but? Not hard enough I couldn't hold on to them either of them! The told me that they loved me and everything would be okay but it wasn't- I was about to kill them... I just" your bottom lip wobbled and your voice came out  strained, you fought to get the next words out. Clark murred and tried to comfort you, feeling the fear and anxiety. The guilt and devastation in your bond was... it sickened him feeling such sorrow. But it did no good, he tugged you up and sat you on his lap curling around you, holding you to his chest desperately wanting to sooth you. Ever ounce of him was trembling the need to cheer you up and tend to you was astounding.

But even through all that need and instinct, he knew he couldn't. You were mourning, not only you parents but your race, way of life, your home, your planet! It would be a heavy blow to anyone least of all his delicate young omega. He didn't speak, he didn't want to interrupt, you needed to get this out. He needed to know what happened so he could help you.

"Then my dad... He was the one to strap me i-in... he was the strongest there... the others couldn't have held me down long enough. The ship closed... locked and that was it I was off to earth." Silence reigned as your new family took in what you'd said. They hadn't realised how you'd come here... Clark thought you came willingly, happily boarded the ship to get here. He hadn't even considered your fear and the weight on your shoulders.

"I felt it. The planet die. All the teachers said that you'd be asleep before it happened but I wasn't. It was the loudest and most frightening thing I'd ever heard. It rocked the ship, then the debris... it was like a monsoon, a deafening rain storm of rocks the earth and foundation of krypton itself." Your took a deep breath leaning against Clark pressing your back into him twisting your head slightly resting on his shoulder trying to tuck your face into his neck. Seeking him as your only comfort. .

Clark was finding it heard to hear. He was ecstatic you were here, he didn't care the cost. Now he felt like a bastard. He couldn't imagine hearing and entire planet die. And entire race. You must have felt so scared and alone. He wasn't sure he could handle that type of trauma. Its one thing to be alone hoping you had a homeland. Knowing for certain? That was another thing entirely. Martha hummed watching as Clark got upset and scooted closer placing her hand on your knee while throwing her arm around Clarks back rubbing slowly.

"I p-panicked and tried to change direction, tried rerouting the ships pre-set destination... But it couldn't find krypton. The planet just? Wasn't there anymore, it was so surreal. Instead it continued on to earth, and the onboard computer said I was too panicked to travel at hyper speed so it put me to sleep... the next thing I remember is waking up here... it felt like minuets but had been six months." You ended. It didn't seem right, such a long historic tale ending with you walking up on an alien planet.

All those failures and mistakes rolling one after the other after the other. All the power hungry fools and scientific breakthroughs for nothing. In the end your race had come full circle. An alpha and his omega. Two intertwined souls. The very last paired kryptonians. It was almost ironic, for all the advances and medical wonders in the end nature triumphed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that you had to face that alone... if I'd known I would have come and got you, I would have never let krypton die-" Clark started apologising holding you tighter dipping his head to yours resting his nose on your hair breathing you in swaying you sweetly.

"No. Krypton had to. We couldn't risk another Zod on your new planet. Your abilities in an evil power hungry kryptonian? It would have been chaos. We knew that we had to start fresh but cohabit a planet. Not rule it. That's why we needed kryptonians to be birthed here." You cut him off quickly. He didn't have to feel responsible,  krypton made their bed and they could lie in it. They strayed too far and had failed, destroyed themselves.

"Zod came. He tried to take over but I... I killed him, id found a ship and my father explained a few things to me, told me about my mate that would be sent to me I looked for you in zods men. But he laughed saying id never find you- the final straw that made me kill him was when he laughed saying you were dead." Clark hissed voice becoming dark as he remembered Zod. The cruelty the man had, the utter madness was something that ha7nted him. He feared that was the true nature of kryptonians, that one day he would become another Zod.

"You did the right thing. Zod was corrupt. The codex can sometimes corrupt a child and feed them too much. His loyalty and strength were... maddening. He was meant to be a soldier he wanted to be a dictator, even on krypton. That's what the coup was about. He was trying to overthrow a high ruling government" you said before slowly untangling yourself from your mate. He released you, hands still hovering as you stood and brushed yourself off. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before excusing yourself scaling the small steps of the ship. Clark made to follow you as you disappeared into the ship needing a few moments alone. Martha held him shaking her head understanding you needed a little breathing room.

You couldn't help it, the feelings came back, the terror and anxiety panic and self loathing. It was nauseating, you'd not really managed to come to terms with the deaths of your family, deaths that you caused. You'd managed to ignore it? Being in a completely new environment you'd almost convinced yourself you were on a trip, a holiday and that your parents were at home safe and sound. It probably wasn't healthy but its what had managed to get you through all this. But saying it outloud? Recounting it had brought everything to life.

You huffed rubbing your eyes as they teared up, seeing all this in here was hitting home. The priceless artefacts and wealth of knowledge surrounding you only solidifying the fact krypton was gone. That it was your duty to keep all this heritage alive. Your job to birth a race and find a way to integrate into this alien world. It was a terrifying prospect, soo much responsibility for a single young female. And you had to bare it alone along side the guilt of being your planets demise.

You quickly wiped at your face sniffling as you felt Clarks approach. Ducking down you looked into the satchel that you recognised as your fathers old pack. You jumped as Clark crouched behind you pressing two heavy hands on your shoulders massaging them before dragging you back to him. You sighed hanging your head as he plastered you to his front,  strong arms slowly winding around your waist.

"Its not your fault, you couldn't have saved them." He said softly pressing a chaste kiss to your neck breathing you in, scenting you. It was something else that was strange at first but Clark had mastered quickly. He noticed that if he gave in to some of these... instincts he could calm you down. Scenting you, coupled with touching you coddling and holding you close seemed to be the most effective way to sooth you when things began to get too much. When you got overwhelmed, but he held back in front of his mother. She was still uneasy about the age difference.

"I could have fought harder-" you whined feeling yourself tremble, the severity of what happened the reality of it crushing you. You began huffing, taking deeper breaths holding them trying to fight the fear and sobs. You couldn't afford this self pity you had a job. A duty to your people and you cant fail! You wont because then it was for nothing-

"Omega." Clarks voice grunted, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was strange, he sounded firm and stern. A real alpha reprimanding, commanding you. You shivered. It was both frightening and sexy. Perfect. You peered back at him, a few tears escaping followed by a single mewl as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"Nothing you said would have stopped them. Nothing. From everything you've told me, the one thing that stands out is krypton did as it pleased. A tiny thing like you never would have stood a chance" he cooed down at you somehow maintaining his authority but in a gentler way. The light growl almost soothed you, it sounded like his murr but deeper and had more conviction.

"I... I know but it... It wasn't meant to be me. Wasn't meant to happen, they always said it was the end but?" You tried to get out the feelings but for some reason you couldn't put words to them. It came in waves, as ecstatic as you were to be here with your mate, relish in the presence of your incredible alpha. You also wanted your parents, your home and all the things you'd been brought up with. You were selfish, you'd wanted it all.

"No one ever really believes a world can end love" he breathed out slowly. Still pressing close to you sniffing and kissing at you, tucking his hands below your tshirt rubbing the warm palms on your flat tummy making you relax.

"So what's this then?" Clark said motioning to the satchel you were fiddling with. You cast a glance to him and smiled sadly.

"My dads... they were allowed to pack things before we got tested... just incase and...They didn't have long to gather things- god I hope there's a photo! And my-" you were cut off as he chuckled and moved closer hooking a finger around the opening tugging it lightly.

"Jurashnir stuffie?" He said making you flush and gape. You were surprised he even remembered. But it warmed your heart that he did remember such a small detail, a passing comment really. It showed he really did listen and take in what you said, even if it was silly anxious prattle.

"Yes that" you hummed face glowing in a sweet blush. And began pulling the bag open fully digging you hand inside.

"I hope she packed it too" Clark chuckled holding the bag open wider so you could see more of the things inside. You already recognized some things, your mothers perfume she used on the rarest of occasions. Your fathers military id pin some clothing and jewellery that they treasured the hair ornaments your mother wore on their ceremonial binding. Then there was the all important photo, you closed your eyes glimpsing the image. No, it was too soon for that, you couldn't look at their smiling faces yet, not after killing them.

Then you felt it. Your stuffie the one that had been with you since you were brought home as a new babe. You yanked it out eyes watering as you pulled out the toy. Clark eyed it with a smile, it was like a chinchilla small round and cute, huge eyes and adorable. You held it close overwhelmed by it, which was stupid, it was a bloody toy, but brought so much comfort. You nuzzled it, rubbing the tiny ear between your fingers like you had thousands of times before.

"I- sorry it..." you breathed out quickly pulling the toy to your lap twiddling the fur on it humming. Your cheeks glowed feeling embarrassed from being so childish, getting so caught up in having your treasured toy with you.

"No. Don't apologise" your alpha was quick to argue with a wide grin eyeing the toy himself with a relieved expression.

"I'm glad you have something from home to comfort you" and he did. He wanted to help make you more at home here, and if a little stuffie did that he wont complain. It will have pride of place on the bed both here and when you finally return to Metropolis with him.

You smiled slowly bringing to toy to your chest clutching it close with one hand almost afraid of releasing it now you'd been reunited. You handt realised just how much it meant to you until you face not having him. Your other hand felt around inside the bag and come across a small book. You frowned and pulled it out then flushed seeing what it was. Who had popped that in your bag?! Surely not your parents, there must be a mistake.

You flipped it open and froze seeing your fathers broken English scribbled on the inner cover. A note to Kal.

'This help read. Kal be happy with mate, love her make family' you drew a deep breath and smiled nodding understanding what he meant. Be happy with each other, become a family.

"Ah and Clark... here this is our erm... my dad left this to you mating book... it has everything you need to know about... that" you uttered handing him the book. He froze not expecting to have anything from your parents. He looked over the words and smiled. It was your fathers blessing something he thought he'd go without. Before you could stop him he was flicking through the book scanning the pages and flushing slightly before laughing boisterously drawing his mother into the ship finally giving into her curiosity.

"Well I'll be damned you actually gave me a guide book for sex! Does it have pictures?~" he smirked closing the book and levelling you with a playful stare. You shrunk back squeezing the stuffie in your arms feeling embarrassed pursing  your lips cutely.

"Oh god I don't err? Look just read it okay! Alone!" You growled at him as he still laughed finding it amusing just how flustered you got. He winked at you before quirking a brow at you then peered at the book once more.

"Oh so it does have pictures! Hmm? Must be my lucky day being given free porn"  he exclaimed teasing you happy that you'd seemed to cheer up, even if you were now a little sheepish.

"I-its not porn! Its realistic sex education!" You said flapping at him well aware of the critical look Martha was casting you both.

"Well sweet heart trust me when I say I don't need much tutoring... actually I do... I need lots! But I'm better at practical~ perhaps you could squeeze in a little one on one session?" He purred leaning closer pushing his chest against you humming biting his lip nuzzling you. You shuddered and stuttered tripping over your words. It was at that moment Martha jumped into action.

"OKAY! Right that's enough lessons for one day Casanova, we can leave that conversation there" she huffed standing behind him placing her hands on her hips taking a stern stance.

"What? But ma i was just about-"

"Oh i know very well what you were just about to do son! Behave. And be glad she gave you a raunchy book." The human countered none to impressed with the way Clark seemed to be turning into a cheeky horndog.

"Its just sex education... not raunchy" you muttered quietly hanging your head with a sigh still glowing brightly at the fact everyone seemed to think you'd given him porn.

"I believe you sweety... Come on Clark lets get a move on, we will sort one shelf today then we can relax in the garden" she assured you before ordering Clark nudging him with a foot making him pout.

"But ma?" He whined suddenly transforming from eager alpha to leading child that made you giggle. He really was cute, cuter then you'd thought he'd be.

"No buts. You want to take this stuff to your little club house today don't you?" She snipped prodding him harder with her foot with a smirk.

"Fortress Ma. Its a fortress" Clark huffed rolling his eyes sending you a wink only to yip as Martha toe punched him a little harder in warning.

"Mm hmm call it what you want, when a son builds himself a hidden little mancave and only lets certain friends in, its a clubhouse. No matter how big or high-tech it is" she drolled making you chuckled at the two. It was nice having the motherly woman around even if she was struggling with the new situation you and her son were in.

"Its not a... whatever, come on you lets sort through this shelf first" Clark finally caved and stood helping you up deciding to pick his battles... he had to keep his mother sweet if he was going to convince her that you could move in with him, be it his room here or his appartment in Metropolis.

[abbatoirablaze]

Stacy's Mom, Chapter 7

Word Count:  1.4k

Warnings:  none really

“Dev…I need to talk to you about something,” Jake said nervously as he looked at her.  Devin’s brow furrowed momentarily before she sighed.  She knew that this was coming, “I-wait…what’s that look for?  Why do you-”

“Your job,” she sighed, cutting him off as a hand began running through her hair, “your mom told me earlier in the summer when we were talking…that’s what this is about, right?  Whether or not you are going to re-sign with the military?”

Jake nodded, his breath caught in his throat as he watched her curiously, “I was supposed to give them an answer last week...but I’ve kind of been putting it off.”

This time it was her breath that caught in her throat.  The summer had passed so quickly that neither one of them really thought about anything other than each other and Briana.  They hadn’t really talked about what came after ‘the honeymoon phase.’  But now that the summer had drawn to a close, Jake was faced to look at the decision that was in front of them.

“What do you want to do?”

They both knew the answer. 

While Jake had wanted to re-sign, there was a much larger part of himself that didn’t want to leave his unofficial girlfriend and daughter.  He’d found so much happiness, so much purpose in just being around them that he didn’t think he would be strong enough to leave them behind.

“I mean…I could get out of the military,” he said quickly, offering the suggestion up to her, “I did complete my four years…so my contract is-“

“Jake…”

“No, hear me out, Dev,” he said even quicker, stopping his girlfriend from disagreeing with him, “I-they’ll pay for my schooling.  And while I’ve got a good bit of IT training-“

“I don’t want you to resent me down the road,” she said firmly, looking at him while she had cut him off yet again, “I know that you want to be on that special team.  When we first got together that’s all you told Briana about.  You told her how you were training to become this special forces operative.  I know it means a lot to you and I don’t want you hating us for it because you didn’t take advantage of it when you could.”

“I could never resent you, Dev,” Jake replied softly, reaching out to her.  She went crashing into his arms and Jake sighed, “you’re the mother of my child.  The mother of our future children…I-I could never resent you, Dev…”

She bit her lip, “funny you should mention that…”

Jake’s heart went to his throat as his eyes trailed down to her stomach, his hands cradling the flat expanse while he thought about what she’d just secretly admitted, “Dev…are you…”

She nodded softly biting her lip, “you know, Jensen…you’re not so great at the whole wearing condoms thing…and your pull-out game is a mess…not that I’m complaining…”

Jake smiled, his heart racing a million miles a minute, “I mean…can you blame me…my girlfriend is smoking hot.  I don’t ever want to pull out.”

She laughed and hit his arm, “oh my god, you’re horrible…”

“So wait…you’re really-“

“I found out this morning,” she nodded, biting her lip, “I-I was going to run to the store to grab another test to make sure this afternoon...but…well-”

“I’m gonna be a dad again,” he smiled dreamily, watching her.  She nodded and his grin couldn’t be contained as he looked between her face and her stomach, “we’re gonna have another baby?”

“After this one though…you’re getting snipped,” she teased, tapping right at the top of his jeans, “I’m forty and pregnant…something I never thought I’d say…”

“Wh-what are you guys doing here?” Jake asked nervously as he looked around the room. Jake was shocked to see Roque, Pooch, Clay, and Cougar sitting at the kitchen table when he woke up.  Devin had made them all breakfast and Briana was animatedly telling Cougar about her bunnies while she munched on her own breakfast. 

“Came to check up on you,” Clay said with a smile as he drank some coffee, “been talking with your beautiful girlfriend here for half an hour.  You know, for a soldier you’re bad with your deadlines, Jensen…stopped the administration from filing your discharge paperwork.”

Jake paled as he looked to Devin.  He hadn’t told her that he was going to just ignore the calls until they discharged him.  The look on her face was a confused one. “J-Jake?”

“Daddy was a discharge?”

Pooch looked at Jensen curiously, “daddy?  I didn’t know that you had kids, Jensen.”

“Yeah…he’s my daddy!” Briana said proudly.  Then she held up her arms, each of which had her stuffed bunnies in them, “daddy say morning to bunnies.  An me!”

Jake was quick to go into the kitchen and scoop his daughter up in his arms and kiss her on both cheeks, and then kiss the bunnies, “good morning princess Briana.  Good morning Jake and Devin.”

Roque looked amused as he crossed his arms.  Clay chuckled and drank down some more of his coffee, watching the side of the youngest possible member of the losers that he hadn’t disclosed to anyone.  Cougar watched without saying a word as Briana snuggled into his chest. 

“Love you daddy.”

“I love you too, Briana,” Jake said softly.  He walked back over to her seat and put her back down, “eat your breakfast before sissy comes over.”

Briana frowned, “can you stay here today daddy?  I don’t want you to leave when sissy comes over.”

“Briana eat your breakfast,” Devin said carefully, trying to pull her daughter’s attention back to her breakfast.  Then she turned to Jake, “Jake…do you want to go to the office with your…friends?”

“Oh no, it’s fine, ma’am…” Clay smirked sitting back in the chair, “like I said, when you kindly made us breakfast, we just wanted to make sure Jensen here was serious about being discharged…have you two talked it over?  He’s got a real opportunity here with the team!”

“Briana…baby if you’re done eating, go play in the living room…”

“I can take her,” Cougar said softly.  Devin nodded that it was okay and he turned to Briana, “want to go play in the living room?”

“Can we have a tea party, Mr. Cougar?”

He nodded and she took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the living room.  Clay turned his attention between Jake and Devin, “there seems to be a little bit of tension here…am I wrong in assuming that the two of you hadn’t discussed this?”

“Jake, you told me…you said that you were still thinking about it,” Devin said quietly as she spared a glance to her boyfriend, “When did you change your mind?  Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Dev…I don’t want to leave you and Bri…I can’t leave you…especially not with…”

“The pregnancy…” she said, cutting him off. 

Jake nodded, biting his lip, “Dev…I can’t just put another one in you and walk away again…lo-look how much I missed with Briana.  I missed first steps…first words…I-“

“She loves you, Jake,” she said softly, reaching out to him, “if you’re worried about the baby not loving you because you’re in the military, you’re crazy.”

“I don’t want to walk away again.”

“Family is important,” Roque said, breaking the silence, “I have two daughters…and I’m not going to lie to you, Jensen…it’s tough being away from them sometimes…but what gets me through is knowing that what I do, what happens makes a difference.  It keeps not only the country safe, but it keeps them safe.”

“It’s not a decision to be taken lightly, Jensen,” Clay said firmly as he finished off his coffee.  He stood up and stared at the youngest man in the room, “if you want to be part of the team, the job is yours.  Your skills are far beyond anyone elses we’ve got lined up behind you should you not want the position…but we have to leave for a mission.   If you’re not at the air strip in twenty-four hours, I’ll have administration push through your discharge papers and you’ll truly be a civilian…but if you’re there, you’re in…understood?”

“Yes sir…”

Jake watched as Roque, Clay, and Pooch collected Cougar from the living room and made their way out of Devin’s house.  Then his eyes turned towards his girlfriend, and he noticed her hand absentmindedly tracing her stomach. 

"Dev..."

"I know you want to go, Jake.  I c-we can’t hold you back" she said slowly, tears welling up in her eyes, "We-we’ll be okay.  I promise…”

“Devin, I don’t want to leave you,” Jake uttered, “I can’t leave you and Briana and the baby…I don’t wan-“

“It’s okay to leave, Jake,” she offered sadly, cutting her boyfriend off, “Just promise me that you’re coming back if you do.”

Chapter 8, The End

Tag List:  @notrealllyhere, @krissy25, @lohnes16, @dispatchvampire, @meanttobea

[jimlingss]

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment. 

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by! 

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’. 

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.” 

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod. 

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically. 

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching. 

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.” 

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room. 

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk. 

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater. 

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you. 

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns. 

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body. 

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet. 

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

 When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.