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deltas-writing-corner · 4 years ago

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Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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razrbladekiss · 4 years ago

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal

MASTERLIST

The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.

But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.

Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.

Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.

"What do you mean--"

"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."

He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.

"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."

Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.

"Why was Kohn even at her place?"

Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Or did you lure him there or something--"

"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."

"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."

Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.

"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.

"Help me get rid of him--"

"Jackson--"

"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."

Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.

"But--I--what about Cameron?"

"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.

She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.

But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.

Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.

Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.

"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.

Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.

"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.

"Okay--when do you need to do this?"

He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.

"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"

"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."

"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."

"And if Tara asks..."

A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.

"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."

Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.

She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.

And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.

This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.

Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.

He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.

"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."

Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.

"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."

"I'm gonna head home--"

"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.

Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.

"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."

Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.

"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"

"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."

Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.

Gemma just hummed, turning away.

She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.

"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."

"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.

That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.

Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.

But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.

"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."

Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."

"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."

"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.

Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.

"Gem?"

"Mhm?"

"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.

Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.

The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.

Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.

Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.

And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.

"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.

Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.

"You sound super Irish when you're mad."

"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.

Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.

She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"

"He was stalking Tara--"

"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."

"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"

"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."

His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.

"He was a bad guy. He had to die."

"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"

Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.

It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.

Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.

The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.

She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.

"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.

"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."

"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"

Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."

She was struggling to follow on.

It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.

"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"

"No. This is between us, and Tara."

Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.

"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."

Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.

"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.

The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.

Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.

But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.

"This is seriously fucked up."

"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.

Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."

She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."

He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.

Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.

Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.

"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"

"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."

"I know."

She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.

Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.

Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.

"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."

It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.

Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.

Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.

But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.

Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.

"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"

"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."

"Perfect."

It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.

Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.

She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.

They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.

It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.

He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.

"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.

She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.

Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.

"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"

She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.

Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.

Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.

She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.

And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.

It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.

Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.

"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"

She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.

"Isla--"

"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."

He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.

Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.

Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.

He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.

But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.

"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"

"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."

"Why would he hate you?"

"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."

In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.

"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.

She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.

"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"

"I wouldn't say you were sweet."

She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.

It was bittersweet.

Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.

Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.

Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.

Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.

"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.

Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.

"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."

Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.

Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.

The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.

But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.

"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

Text

Cinderella (1/?)

“The death of Alex's mother changes his father for the worst. Jesse no longer sees his little prince, but a reminder of all that he has lost.

Cast away to the attic, Alex grows up under the harsh reign of the wicked man his father has become. He begins to lose hope that he will ever have the love of a family again . . . then he meets Prince Michael, and everything changes.

When Michael announces a ball, and Alex is forbidden to go, it takes the magic of a fairy godmother to make his dream come true.”

read on ao3

I have no idea how many chapters this will be, I just know that I want to do this story justice, as Cinderella is one of my favorite Disney princesses. If you enjoyed reading this even a little bit, please comment and share, as it always makes the world of a difference ❤

tags: malex, malex cinderella au, malex fluff, malex angst, malex happily ever after, so much magic, and kindness, and courage

***

“Mother!” nine-year-old Alex called as he ran through the halls of his home. “Mother!”

He followed the lovely sound of humming, like a river in the midst of sparkling spring, and found his mother in the kitchen, standing before the stove, her dark hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and her even darker eyes shining with the sunlight pouring in through the open windows.

She smiled. “Calm yourself, darling, before you wake your brothers.”

“But, mother!” Alex whined, tugging at her apron. “I’ve just had the most wonderful dream!”

His mother laughed, her voice like honey as she picked him up and placed him on the counter next to her. “Have you? And what was it about?”

“The mice!” he said eagerly. “In the gardens! They were talking to me!”

“My, that sounds exciting!”

“It was! Jacques and Gus and Marie – all of them spoke to me! We were having a tea party, and the birds poured the tea for us –”

“How very helpful of them,” his mother said with an approving nod.

“The mice thought so, too! And then they said so! And then they gave me a gift for being their friend!”

“Goodness, what did they give you?”

“A new coat!” Alex said happily. “Wasn’t that nice of them?”

“So very kind,” she agreed, and laughed, folding Alex into her chest. “Oh my darling, I’m so happy you enjoyed your tea party.”

Alex melted against her, breathing in her scent of lilacs and the leftover meat she was cooking for breakfast. She was warmer than usual, but it comforted Alex in the cold of morning. He giggled. “Mother, it wasn’t a real tea party. It was only just a dream.”

“Well,” his mother pulled back, placing her hands on her hips. “You know what they say about dreams, don’t you?”

Alex blinked, and shook his head.

His mother smiled knowingly. “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

“But what does that mean, mother?” he asked.

“It means, my dear, that if you are good and kind and wish with all of your heart,” she winked, and poked his nose, making him laugh, “then that dream that you wish will certainly come true.”

A door opened somewhere down the hall, and Alex nearly fell off the counter in his excitement. “Father!” he called. “Father, good morning!”

Jesse Manes’ low chuckle sounded in the hallway before he stepped into the kitchen. There were spots of mud on his trousers where the boots had not reached, and he was barefoot.

“Good morning, my beautiful son!” Jesse exclaimed, raising Alex up above his head.

“Honestly, you two,” Alex’s mother laughed. “You will wake the boys!”

“Good!” Jesse said promptly, keeping Alex on his hip. “They ought to be up early, like Alex! What’re they sleeping in for?”

She shook her head, her eyes fond. “Oh, Jesse . . .”

“No, father!” Alex said. “We must be kind to them! Isn’t that right, mother?”

“My prince,” Alex’s mother cooed, taking him from a laughing Jesse’s arms. “Aren’t you wonderful?”

“It’s because he’s so much like you,” Jesse said, and kissed his wife’s cheek before kissing Alex’s as well. “My queen, and my little prince. How I treasure you.”

Alex rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, listening to his parents’ recounting of their mornings, the loveliness of the weather, the absurdity of the chickens.

If I can have one wish, Alex thought happily, then I wish for this moment to last forever. Alex closed his eyes, eager for the dream that would follow.

The following morning, however, was a less cheerful one as Alex ran to the kitchen to find his mother was not there. None of the chefs or servants had seen her. He searched outside where his father was tending to the horses himself, laughing with the stable hands. Alex looked around, but there was no sign of his mother.

Jesse spotted him, and called, “Alex! What’re you doing out in the cold, my son?”

“I’m looking for mother!” Alex said. “I can’t find her!”

He tilted his head, smiling. “Has she not awoken yet? Very odd indeed. Best go tell her the sun is up, sweetheart!”

“Yes, father!” Alex said, and off he scurried to the grand bedroom on the second floor. The pale-blue carpet lining the long hall was soft under his feet, the walls covered in framed paintings of flowers, green hills, waterfalls – all which Alex’s mother had painted herself in the garden.

Alex’s father would always ask him for his help pinning them up. “I could never do it without my little helper,” Jesse would say warmly.

When Alex reached the double doors, he knocked. “Mother!” She did not answer. Alex pulled on the door handle with both hands and went inside. The curtains were pulled back, the morning sun pouring in.

Alex almost leapt onto the bed, remembered it would be rude to wake his mother so suddenly, and stood at her bedside. Her face was red.

“Mother,” Alex whispered as softly as he could. “Mother, father says it’s time to wake up now.”

If his mother could hear him, she was pretending not to. Alex jumped a little bit on his toes. “Mother? Are you all right?”

He poked her nose, hoping to make her laugh as she always made him laugh. He faltered. It’s too warm, he thought. Alex touched her cheek, and snatched his hand back with a gasp.

Without another word, Alex ran out. He didn’t dare start calling for his father until he was back outside, afraid his mother would hear him and he would break her rest.

“Father!” he called, his voice cracking as his eyes burned. “Father, please, come quick!”

Jesse caught his son’s expression and his smile faltered. “Alex?” he hurried to him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s mother,” Alex cried before he could help himself. “Father, her skin is like fire!”

Jesse’s face fell, and he muttered, “What?” before he ran off without waiting for Alex’s response.

Alex hurried after him, but stopped at the doorway to his parents’ room this time. He watched, his small hand gripping the doorway tightly, as Jesse murmured something incoherent to his wife, holding her up and pushing her hair back from her face.

“Darling?” Alex caught. “Darling, can you hear me? That’s right, look at me, there you are. You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just fine.”

Alex swallowed. He was fairly certain he was carving into the wood with his nails, but he hardly felt it as he stared at the scene before him. Something that he could not describe with his young mind came over him in that moment, something paralyzing that kept him frozen at the doorway, tears falling silently, even as his father ran to get a physician. Later on, Alex would recognize that dark cloud as dread, for he had known then, though he could not say how, that his mother would not wake again.

Alex did not remember much of the funeral. Only that he and his brothers and father had worn black, that several people took their hands and wished them well, that he was hugged by friends of his mother who were always so kind and good to him. He had not cried, for he felt his body had no tears left to give. He stood there, however, long after his father and brothers left.

The weeks that followed were spent in silence. The windows were always curtained, Alex’s father did not react well to being woken in the mornings.

“Leave me,” was all he would say whenever Alex came into his room with a tray of tea and butter and bread that he had fixed himself. His eyes were so numb and dark that Alex left his chamber with tears burning, threatening to spill, every time.

“We have to help him,” Alex urged his brothers who gathered in Clay’s bedroom. Clay and Flint sat side by side, Clay staring listlessly at a page of his book, Flint shredding a daisy between his fingers.

“Leave it alone, Alex,” Flint always answered.

“He’s an adult,” Gregory always tried more softly. “He doesn’t need our help.”

“Everyone needs help,” Alex pleaded. “Perhaps if you came with me, and we all told him our favorite stories of mother –”

“Stop talking,” Clay murmured. Clay, who was always so kind to him, looked at him now as though resentful. “You don’t understand how any of us feel, you’re just a stupid child. Mother hasn’t just gone to the market, she won’t be back any moment now.”

“Clay –” Gregory started.

“—is right,” Flint finished, settling on Alex with the same glare. “Mother’s gone. You’re too young to know what that means.”

Alex clenched his fists at his sides, and he started to storm out . . . then he stopped at the door. He whipped around, his tears falling freely now.

“I know what it means,” he said fiercely. “I know that I miss her, too. I know that she wouldn’t want this. I’m not going to abandon him,” he wiped the tears roughly with his sleeve, “or any of you.”

Alex left without a word from any of them.

He tried and tried to see his father, to speak to him, even from outside his door, but Jesse did not see anyone. Slowly, more and more of the maids and servants left as Jesse failed to pay them, not that he seemed to mind. Only a few remained, and Alex was glad for the company, for his brothers seemed to rarely stomach the sight of him anymore either, though he could not tell why.

Then one day, as Alex wandered his room, stripping the dirty sheets and linens for washing – he didn’t mind helping to clean the house and feed the animals, for he felt he was helping his father best in this, the only way he could – he sang a familiar song, the first time he’d found himself able to sing it; a song his mother often sang when she cooked.

Alex waved to the birds as he passed the windows, and laughed as they flew in circles around each other. He was still singing when the door to his room suddenly swung open with a –

BANG!

Alex jumped, whipping around. His father stood there on the threshold, his robe hanging off his shoulders as he panted. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. It was the first time he’d been out of bed. He looked around the room, frantically searching for something, then his eyes settled on Alex.

When he didn’t speak, Alex tried softly, “Father . . . are you all right?”

“I – I thought –” Jesse stammered, his brows pinched. “That song . . .”

“It was mother’s,” Alex supplied helpfully, his grip on his bedsheets tight.

His father, to his relief, didn’t seem angered or burst into tears by his words. Instead, he nodded slowly, his eyes on Alex, as though just realizing something. “Yes.” He knelt in front of Alex. “You’re so much like her, aren’t you?”

Alex’s eyes burned and his words cracked as he whispered, “I am?”

“She was lovely, too,” he said miserably, and Alex hesitated.

“Father,” he tried, “a-are you hungry? Would you like me to make you something?”

“No,” he said, wringing his hands together as he took in Alex’s room, as though it was the first time he was seeing it. “No, my son, no. I do, however, have another small request.”

Alex stood attentive at once, alert. “Yes?”

“I was hoping to move your mother’s things,” he said, “but I want them somewhere tidied and proper to her memory.”

“Oh,” Alex said at once, “I can tidy whichever room you’d like!”

“I – I know you can,” Jesse said, shutting his eyes as though Alex’s voice was worsening the headaches he’d complained of. Alex pressed his lips together, waiting. “I thought, however, it would be far more meaningful if we could put her belongings . . . here. In your room.”

“My room?” Alex blinked, and grinned widely. “Yes, of course! I’ll be happy to look after mother’s –”

“And of course,” Jesse went on, “I wouldn’t ask you to share your comfort with her old things. That’s why I’ve been thinking it may be easier for you to move into a quieter room, one that wouldn’t need so much looking after. One where you may . . .” his eye twitched, “sing to your heart’s content, and not worry about disrupting anyone’s peace.”

Alex faltered. Disrupting?

“I think the attic ought to do nicely, don’t you?”

“The attic?”

“A wonderful idea, son,” Jesse nodded, no longer looking at Alex as he stood and backed away from him. “Why don’t you gather all of this bric-a-brac and take it upstairs, eh?”

“Er – all right, father. If you really think this will help you feel better.”

“There’s my good prince,” Jesse murmured, and, his eyes still unable to meet Alex’s, he turned and left the room.

Alex clutched his sheets tightly, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. It’s all right, he thought. This is for the best. It’s for father, for my brothers. It’s for the best.

Alex kept reminding himself of that as he gathered his few things – a flower he’d picked from the garden and placed in a small wooden vase, his favorite book, and his favorite blue blanket. The attic door creaked as it swung open, and Alex heard the faint scattering of tiny paws across wooden floors.

The window was long, letting in the faint remnants of twilight and giving everything a blue and violet glow. Alex swallowed and stepped inside, setting his things on the floor before climbing onto the narrow bed. The mattress was soft, so he supposed that was good. He looked down and saw a few mice peeking their heads at him before scuttling back into the shadows.

“Don’t be afraid,” Alex said with a soft smile, though for some reason, he could not let go of the mattress. “I’m a friend. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you. At any rate, I won’t be up here long. It’s only until father feels better, you see.”

Even as he said the words, Alex’s nails dug deeper into the mattress. Even as he said them, his heart still ached and something like grief filled his chest. Why he felt such sorrow, he could not say, for he could not have known in that moment that his father would never truly ever feel better again.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex cinderella au #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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oddaodd · 5 years ago

Text

In The Depths Of Despair

· The reader refuses to let Tommy go into the tunnels alone ·

Warnings : DON´T READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN´T WATCHED SEASON 3. Also, angst ✨

Authors note : just thought I should mention that, while this is based on episode 6 of season 3, it is not 100% accurate to what happened in the show.

Y/N sat next to Tommy as he recklessly drove to the campsite where the digging for the tunnel for the robbery had been started. He was hysterical, who wouldn't be when Charlie was in danger. She had seen him at his worst, but never like this before. She looked at him and got briefly lost in her thoughts. Forlorn memories of a time when everything was easier, when he was happy danced across her mind, distracting her from where they were going. She had loved him since they were kids and before he went to France they were like two peas in a pod. Polly always said they would end up together and y/n believed it too, she just couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else, but then came Grace. (And then May and then Tatiana). But even despite it all she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Sure she was mad at him, but she could never hate him, not for something that he couldn’t control like loving someone else. Pol comforted her as she wept countless nights after he told everyone he was going to marry Grace for she wished he was marrying her instead. She thought she was in the deepest depths of despair when she saw him happy with her but she was wrong, there was a deeper depth she became acquainted with when Grace died and a part of Tommy too, with her. She gave up on her flimsy wishes of him loving her back for he seemed incapable of loving anyone else after Grace, but she stayed by his side as the friend he needed. She would go to war for him because she still loved him no matter how hard she tied to stop, and when Tommy needed her, she was there even if he didn’t ask her to be. Like at that very moment.

The car came to an abrupt halt and he got out hastily, slamming the door shut and unbuttoning his shirt walking past Johnny dogs towards the tunnel entrance in the ground.

Y/n followed him closely and started unbuttoning her dress too. He turned for a moment to say something to Johnny but stopped when he saw what she was doing.

“What are you doing?”

“Im coming with you” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, your are not ” he said throwing his shirt aside

“Yes I am” she said, finally stepping out of her dress remaining only in her underdress.

“I don’t have time to argue with you! Its dangerous!” He yelled coming closer to her as if doing so would make her change her mind.

“Its dangerous for you too!” She yelled back, looking him dead in the eye. He was afraid and she could tell. She placed her hands on his face as if doing so would calm his nerves. “There´s no way in hell I’m letting you go down there alone” There was a small pause, his jaw tightened and his hands held her face too.

“We are loosing time Tommy”

“For fuck´s sake” he muttered in approval letting go go of her face and walking towards Johnny Dogs “They have my boy Johnny. Once we are down there, go look for Michael in case he needs anything”

Johnny Dogs just nodded in all seriousness and handed Tommy a bag of explosives.

Y/n was already standing next to the entrance on the tunnel, bracing herself for what was to come. She hadn’t been to war, but the contents of Tommy’s letters about being a clay kicker were enough to fuel y/n’s imagination of how utterly dreadful it would be and yet she knew what they were about to do couldn’t compared to what he had lived through in France.

Tommy walked towards her and handed her piece of what used to be his shirt “Here, cover your mouth and nose”

Once she did he inspected her making sure she had tied it alright and placed his hands on either side other face one more time to make her look at him “I need you to listen to me. When we are down there I need you to do exactly as I said exactly when I say it. Do you understand?” He said in urgency.

She placed a shaky hand atop of his trying to calm him (and herself) down “I understand”

He nodded and looked at her in an almost warning way wishing she could change her mind and when she didn’t falter he let go of her face “I’m going first, I’ll help you down” he said before climbing down the hole. She could see the terror disguised as courage in his eyes and silently sighed in despair.

She handed him the lamp and turned to look at Johnny dogs, he nodded at her with uncertainty. She took a big breath trying to swallow down the fear she was feeling and when she exhaled she too went into the hole. She put her legs in first and held herself above the ground with her elbows as her feel couldn’t reach the bottom of the hole. Soon she felt Tommy holding her thighs and she let go of the ground, letting him put her down. He gave her a quick look, trying to make sure she was alright “Just follow me”

He crawled with the lamp through another hole and y/n followed him. It was awful, the dug out walls were crumbling, the mud and clay around them was thick and heavy making every single movement laborious. She felt as if everything was closing around her but she wouldn't let it get to her, and if she did she couldn't let it show. She knew for sure that whatever she was feeling he was feeling too ten times worse. She remembered when he came back from the war, she remembered how bad his nightmares were and the many sleepless nights she spent with him keeping him company as they crawled for what felt like forever until they reached the end of the tunnel. Tommy dug a bit more until he hit the wall of the Russian´s safe room and when he did, he placed the explosives. He lit them and motioned y/n to go back so they wouldn’t be affected by the explosion. They retreated and a few moments later they heard it go off. Tommy went into the vault and got the jewels. They crawled back through where they came and when they reached the end Tommy gave her the jewels and helped her up so she could pull herself out. Once she did, she helped him out too.

They both laid panting and covered in dirt and mud on the ground for a second. Both a bit bewildered at what they had accomplished. Tommy looked lost at the sky and she placed her hand on his. Knowing how difficult going down there must have been for him. He held it for a moment and looked at her before standing up and helping her to her feet. He put on his coat and she her dress before making their way to the car. They drove to a phone box and after Tommy went to make a call and went back into to the car he exhaled in relief.

“Charlie’s fine, Michael got him”

Y/n exhaled in relief as well and Tommy held her hand looking at her intently, like he did before the war. He didn’t know what to say. He knew she knew what going in that tunnel meant for him and he knew that was why she went with him, not because it was dangerous. She looked at him when she felt his skin on hers and she felt butterflies in her stomach. It hurt. It hurt because she missed him and he hadn’t looked at her way since Grace. For the first time ever she felt vulnerable under his gaze. She was afraid he would see her pain.

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me Tom” she reminded him looking away.

“But I do, nobody else would have done that for me ” he said keeping his eyes on her, knowing that she would turn to look at him again. She always did.

She indeed gave in and turned her gaze back to him, not caring if he could read her vulnerability or not.

“I’d do it again without a second thought”

“I know” he said.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby angst #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders angst

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kimbertsurprise · 4 years ago

Text

where you land is where i’d like to be

i got sad and wanted to write about boys in love, so this is a very soft very self-indulgent almost 3k. also on ao3 here

Kravitz slips into the back of the auditorium, tugging his gloves off and tucking them into his pocket. He runs a hand down his locs, leaving droplets sticking to his skin. It’s snowing outside. The first snow of the season, which Kravitz probably should find beautiful. But right now it’s just cold and wet, and his nerves are tingling.

The auditorium is warm, though, and Kravitz shakes it off as he steps inside. He has always loved this place. The high, arched ceilings, the red fabric seats – every time he sees it, he’s reminded of the first concert he went to as a boy. So much has changed since then, but the majesty of a theater never will.

Plus, the voice echoing through the hall doesn’t hurt.

Taako stands on stage, glittering as much as the snow falling outside. He likes to show off for his students, Kravitz knows – a sparkling cape here, a firework there. Today he is gleaming in knee high boots and a billowing white blouse, gold climbing up his ears.

“Wrong,” Taako says as Kravitz steps through the door and settles himself against the wall. “Bond theory has nothing to do with ghosts, are you even trying?” A beam of light shoots from Taako’s finger and into the audience, followed quickly by an “oof” and a round of laughter from the other students. “Bad answers get purple hair. Next!”

Kravitz grins. Taako rarely handles a guest lecture the same way twice, but this feels exactly like him – a bit of mischief, a bit of drama. Another student raises a hand from a few rows down. “Bonds!” he shouts, and Kravitz swallows a laugh.

“Are you kidding?” Taako throws his hands into the air, and gold bracelets sparkle down his arm. The ones Kravitz got him for their anniversary a few months ago. “Did you just answer the question ‘How do bonds interact with the material plane’ with ‘bonds’? If you don’t look like Taako you can’t get away with that, bubbelah.” He paces the stage, scanning across the audience. Until his eyes land on Kravitz leaning against the wall, and he stops.

Kravitz offers a tiny nod and a smile, and Taako’s answering grin lights up his face.

It hasn’t gotten old yet, the realization that Kravitz can make him smile like that. There are a million versions of Taako’s smile, when he’s willing to use it: half-lifted and smirking, sharp and all teeth, soft and sleepy. It never stops feeling like a miracle when Kravitz is the one to pull them out.

He never expected to feel like this. He enjoyed his work on the Astral Plane; he knew it was important, and the time alone never bothered him. But Kravitz never expected to feel alive again, not in any real way. Until he met Taako, glowing in pink crystal; until his hands were cracked with clay and an umbrella was trying to attack him. It’s the way Taako’s whole family makes him feel, really. They are a mess and a thorn in his side but they bump against each other so beautifully that Kravitz can’t help but feel grateful to be a part of it.

He was chosen for the promise of his power, once. It doesn’t quite feel real that now he’s chosen for just who he is.

“How ‘bout you, kemosabe?” Taako continues, pulling Kravitz back from his thoughts and into the warm, crowded hall. Taako’s eyes haven’t left Kravitz, and his smile has an edge of mischief. “Got anything to say about bonds?”

The students are all looking at him. Whispers have started – they shuffle around the hall like blowing leaves. “Is that –” “It’s not, he looks so normal!” “But why would he be here –”

Kravitz grins at the twinkle in Taako’s eye and starts down the aisle. If Taako wants a show, he’ll put on a show. “Whaddyou know about ghosts, guvnah?” he asks, and barely keeps it together as Taako’s face lights with laughter.

Kravitz is a few steps closer to the stage before Taako manages to control himself enough to respond. “I hear they’re very spooky.”

“That’s a common misconception, that is,” Kravitz replies, now climbing up the stairs. “Ghosts are just like you and me.”

Taako is grinning like a cat. “Is that so?”

“Well,” Kravitz says, dropping the accent and gathering his power, “maybe more like me than you.”

Taako’s burst of laughter is covered by the gasps from the audience as Kravitz’s scythe appears in his hand. The feathers of his robe are a little ruffled around his collar – they always are, when he transforms so quickly like this – but it’s worth it to see the kid in the front row literally fall out of his chair.

The room roars, whispers turning into shouts. “Did he –” “My mom is going to DIE when she hears this –” “He’s the actual Grim Reaper –”

“Class dismissed!” Taako shouts over the din. “Ask Ren about anything that’s due this week, I have no fucking clue!”

Kravitz keeps his Reaper form as the students straggle away, some glancing over their shoulders as if to see what’s going to happen. It’s only when the last backpack disappears through the door that he sinks back to the desk where Taako is, tucking his scythe back into a pocket realm. “Tough lecture?”

Taako stacks a few papers and taps them on the desk. “They wouldn’t know genius if it hit them in the face. Or got projected straight into their brains.”

“It must be hard for your school to be full of such amateurs.”

“You have no idea.”

Kravitz steps around the desk and reaches out, skin melting into place over his skeletal form. “Anything I can do?”

Taako hums and touches his fingertips to Kravitz’s. “Maybe I have an idea…”

Kravitz’s lips reform smiling, and are immediately pressed against Taako’s. It’s nice. It’s more than nice, really, still somewhat overwhelming with how wonderful it feels – until Taako pulls back.

“Cold face, yowza.”

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be getting all warm with love?” Taako’s face, so close to Kravitz’s, scrunches up in discomfort.

“It’s snowing,” Kravitz replies, deadpan, and then smiles as Taako’s uncomfortable expression morphs into disgust.

Taako gets cold, is the thing. He will sacrifice for the sake of fashion, but he is constantly stealing Kravitz’s sweaters and tucking himself into blankets. It’s not a rare occurrence to come home to a couch piled with knitted afghans, Taako barely a lump underneath them. Kravitz would usually open a rift and bring them both home immediately to climb in bed.

But the world is blank and quiet tonight. And, despite the entrance he made, Kravitz has a question to ask.

He brushes a finger down the bracelets and threads his fingers through Taako’s as they chime. “Would you walk with me?”

“Would I –” Taako huffs. “It’s snowing.”

“We covered that already, yes.”

“Taako doesn’t do snow without good reason,” Taako says, and tucks his hands into Kravitz’s pockets. It brings his face pressing hot into Kravitz’s neck.

“It’s a new world to see. You love those, don’t you?”

Taako’s long-suffering sigh sends goosebumps shivering down Kravitz’s neck. “Already seen enough of ‘em, my man, but sure. You’re handsome and you’re asking. Taako’ll freeze his butt off for a walk.”

Kravitz smiles and disentangles himself to help Taako into his coat – long, purple, soft. It was a gift from Lup two Candlenights ago. “It won’t be long.”

“Better not be,” Taako mumbles as they make their way back up the aisle. “Risking my life for a walk in the snow, saved the multiverse and this is what I get…”

It’s a silent cold when they step outside – the kind that makes everything pause, that pockets the world and holds it still. For a few moments, the only sound is the whisper of Taako’s boots kicking snowdrifts aside.

Taako is the one to break the silence. “Okay, fine. It’s pretty.”

Kravitz hums in agreement without really thinking about it. “Reminds me of home.”

“Of the Astral Plane?”

Kravitz laughs. “Not really – it is cold there, I guess, but no. Of home. It’s one of the few memories I have from before, walking to get water out of the well before it froze over.”

Taako is quiet for a moment. Then he finally says, “That sounds shitty, my dude, gotta be honest.”

Kravitz huffs a laugh. “It wasn’t completely. I remember hot chocolate when I got back.”

Taako tucks himself more comfortably against Kravitz’s arm and kicks at another snow drift. “Must’ve been nice, coming back to a family.”

“Better than most things,” Kravitz replies quietly. Taako doesn’t often mention his time before the Institute. Occasionally he drops a small comment or a hint – always sad. Kravitz’s heart, old as it is, twinges to hear them. But as much as he wants to, he knows to let them go unremarked.

And, well, it’s not the perfect segue… but if he doesn’t say something now he’ll lose his nerve. “Taako?”

Taako pauses to look at him. There’s a glow over his face, cast by one of the new streetlights brought on by Lucas’s world-stealing. It paints the panes of his cheeks in bright gold. The shadows under his eyes look more pronounced. He is so beautiful Kravitz feels his heart stop.

“What do you think of making us a family? You and me.” The way Taako’s ears flick back makes Kravitz nervous, but he’s started now and he can’t stop. “I know you have Lup already and I would never want to intrude on that, ever, and Barry and Magnus and Merle – everyone that loves you so much and knows you so well, but I –” Kravitz pulls in a deep breath, trying to get air into his long-dead lungs. “I’d like to be your family too, I think. If you’ll have me. If you’re interested.”

Taako blinks. And is quiet for long enough that Kravitz feels his heart spiral down into his stomach. It’s too much. This was too much, too soon, and Kravitz is suddenly adding, “It’s okay if you’re not, though. I love things just the way they are, I love you, and I wouldn't –”

“Krav.”

Kravitz stops his messy, stumbling mouth. And Taako continues, tilting his head to the side, “What are you asking, exactly?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, they say. So as frosted air puffs from his mouth, Kravtiz bends down to one knee. The cold barely registers; he’s used to it, after all.

“I… Taako, I love you. I can’t imagine my existence without you, which is silly because I’ve been around a very long time and –” he takes another breath and watches it spiral out around him, pointedly looking everywhere but up. “I know nothing has been traditional between us, and I love that. I love you, did I say that already? And I was hoping that maybe you’d want to, well, somewhat untraditionally...” the velvet box is out of his pocket, popped open by numb fingers that have nothing to do with the weather. “Marry me?”

At the last words, Kravitz finally manages to lift his eyes enough to see Taako’s face. His eyes are wide, and Kravitz can’t tell if the light in them is reflection or tears. “Love?” he asks, and starts to get up. “Did I – oh, Taako, I didn’t mean to make you cry –”

“You are so dumb,” Taako interrupts, voice high, and then Kravitz’s mouth is full of his hair as Taako darts forward into a hug.

“Oh,” Kravitz says. And then, “Is that a yes?”

Taako pulls back and Kravitz feels all the places he’s missing as the cold hits his cheek. “Is that a – fuck, Bones, are you kidding? Gimme the thing –”

Taako’s hands are fumbling, and Kravitz is too lost to recognize what to do for a moment. “The – oh, the ring, I –” He opens the box again from where it is tucked in his hand and Taako lets out a shout of laughter.

“You didn’t –” Taako says delightedly, tugging the ring out of its cushion.

“I thought it would be appropriate,” Kravitz says, smiling a bit sheepishly. The pink stone glints in the streetlight, tourmaline cut and shining like a star. Maybe he should be embarrassed by the gesture. But Kravitz can’t feel anything but light and relief and such deep, impossible joy. He feels like he could fly. He watches Taako slip the ring on his finger and his body feels incandescent.

Until Taako laughs, “Uh, babe? Was gonna give you a shot at these lips but that’s tough when you’re ballin out.”

And Kravitz realizes he’s lost his physical form, now floating in front of Taako in an orb of light.

Immediately, he begins the process of stitching his body back together, building hands and eyes and hair. His heart, when he comes to, is pounding in a way it hasn’t since he was alive. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly, and then can’t get anything else out before Taako is kissing him.

“You are such a dork,” Taako mumbles after a minute, their faces still pressed together.

“Yes,” Kravitz agrees, catching Taako’s lips again.

“Can’t believe you got me a pink crystal ring, that is so tacky.”

“It is.” Kravitz presses a kiss to Taako’s nose, his eyes, his cheeks.

“Lup is going to lose her mind.”

“She is, I know.”

“You turned into a light ball! What the fuck!”

“That was… embarrassing, I admit.”

“Krav?” Taako is flushed, his eyes bright. Hair is falling out of his cap and brushing his cheeks, and the streetlight makes it shine a bright, burnished gold. “You’re kind of perfect.”

Kravitz lifts their hands together, bundles Taako’s up into his, and presses a kiss to his gloves. Everything is warm. Everything feels like sunlight. “You too, love.”

“Natch, Taako’s the best,” Taako replies, but his eyes are gleaming and he threads his hand through Kravitz’s.

Snow flutters down around them. Kravitz can’t help it – he runs his thumb, again and again, over the stone under Taako’s glove.

Their wedding will be a sensation, a show – or it will be nothing, an easy dinner, just for them. Taako will surprise him, he always does. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is quieter – the breakfasts and the late nights and the debates over scrolls to watch. All the spaces in between, the heartbeats he can now count. The soft warmth of feeling that this family is his future.

With Taako’s hand in his and snow falling light and buttery around them, Kravitz takes a breath and lets himself finally settle into the feeling of home.

#taz #taz balance #taakitz #my writing #it's just sometimes it snows and i miss people #so my brain says please write about love #and i say okay

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snakeymay · 4 years ago

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So here’s my question, thorfinn and askladd are interested in Vinland for different reasons, askladd interested cause the hero Arthur headed there to heal, and thorfinn interested cause it’s a land of lush lands. Imagine if they come across a woman from the future(she doesn’t tell them she from the future, just that she is from Vinland) and anytime she talks about America (vinland) it’s sounds like an advanced civilization. (Super tall buildings made of metal and glass. Army with hundreds of thousands of strong soldiers, food of all kind able to get and make. Including thousands of spices. Hundreds of kinds of beer and wine, beautiful women) she seems very educated, so educated some of the things she talks about make no sense. (Physics, advanced maths).

Wow, I really get surprised how many people can come up to such interesting ideas! I was thinking about it for a while, so I decided to write what I was able to create. I am nor American, neither english is my mother tongue, BUT I did my best to write these imagines. Again, I wanna thank you for such an idea to accomplish. I hope you will like it!

Askeladd x future! Reader

Askeladd

In a tavern

“ Young gal, how dare you to sit here alone that night so unprotected? You can end up being stolen or even worse...” The blonde man drank a pint of ale and exhaled looking at the young woman, she looked so strange to him. He has never seen such untimid women in his life. All in her nature was strange to him, alienlike. And these traits attracted him like a magnet.

“ I am Askeladd. Where are you from? Are you Brit?”

“ ( Name). No, actually, I am from... far away. America, do you know about it?” You nervously touched your hair, but kept a firm smile on your face. No, in those times with those men as him you couldn’t show any drop of fear. Not a bit.

“ Alas, I have no idea what you are talking about. What is it? Is it in Africa or...”

You interrupted him and replied “ A-me-ri-ca. It is across the ocean... like.. if you go to the west and..”

He was caught by surprise.

“ Vinland?”

“ Yes... uh, I think you call it like it”

“ How did you come here? No, what is it like?” He drank another pint. His sight was glued to you. You felt good, all the attention, so sheer and pure, of such a fine man, was all for you. You didn’t know why he was so curious, bur you filled your lungs with air and started speaking.

“ It is massive with cities”

“ Cities?”

“ Yes. There are a lot. From coast to coast. Our houses are tall and... we can get.. water anytime!”

“ How come?” His tipsy look sobered up in a second. Bloody hell, water anytime!

“ I don’t know. It is all about the canalization system”

“ Can.. Canalization system?”

You started showing the pipe shapes, he laughed at you because your gestures seemed to him reavealing and vulgar. You blushed and realised that you were speaking from a man from the 11th century and decided to switch the topic. What would interest a mercenary?

“ We have good medicine”

“ How good, (name)?”

“ Like, healers can help many people, childrrn don’t die. We live in warmth and...”

You how the look of curious changed to rage and confusion. At the moment you felt that your time, 21st century - is the best time to live. Now you sit with a fine man, but you couldn’t survive here for a day. You stopped talking, but he asked you again.

“ How good?”

“ No one dies, almost. But it is progressing, getting further..”

“ Was it the same way like about 30 years ago?”

“ I think so, it depends”

“ I don’t know wether your words are true or not. But if I had a chance to get to the place you are talking all this evening about-“

He seized his cup, looking into his turbid drink.

“ (Name), If it is real. I am glad to know this cruel world changed at least”

You averted your eyes. You touched something in him.

“ It didn’t, but it is another story to tell, Askeladd”

Askeladd’s voice changed. Stern and serious, he took your hand in his and look straightly into your eyes. You became numb. Ah!

“ (Name), if you stay here I will buy a place in the inn for you. Just tell me more about this A-me-ri-ca?”

Thorfinn x Future! Reader

Iceland, at Thorfinn’s home

“ Woman, how can you walk like that? It is still snow outside! You could even die near our front door!” Ylva coated you with several wool blankets and you stick to the hot clay cup filled with fish broth. You don’t remember what happened to you: you just fell asleep and you woke up here, among the endless fields of snow and sharp mountains, just in your light T - shirt and shorts. And you have no idea how these people found you , but they saved you, fed you, gave you clothes and more. Gave you one more day to live.

“ I-I am s-sorry”

“It is ok, Ylva. You have children to put in bed. I will look after the guest.”

“ Thorfinn... put her in my bedding. Me and Ari will sleep with kids”

She whispered to him.

“ Don’t let happen what happened when our father was here...”

“ I won’t”

She nodded and went away, taking her kids in another room. You stayed on your place, sitting near the hearth. So warm...

The man, named himself as Thorfinn, sat in front of you. He seemed to be so indifferent to you, but he had just no idea to start a conversation with a woman who is such in a bad condition. You kept silent but he was near. After some time you felt better and you asked him, trying to sound as good as you could.

“ Where am I?”

He nodded, his brown eyes blistered with fire flames. He looked so handsome you thought, but his face and hands were covered with endless scars.

“ Iceland. In a village.”

“ I see... I am ( Name).”

“ Thorfinn. I am glad that my friend and I found you”

“ Yes”

You nodded and started looking around. Why is everything so old? What time of history.. is this?

“ Are you a warrior, Thorfinn?”

He sighed and looked somewhere far, somewhere his memories were. Far away”

“I used to be one. But all those stories are in the past. I am a merchant. A traveler as well.”

“ Where do you travel, Thorfinn?”

“ I traveled some places. Now I am aiming to sail to Vinland. It is in the west. They say these lands are lush and prosperous.”

“ Can it be.. uh? I am from this place, actually.”

“ Really? But.. is it true?”

He was marveled by your words. Surprisingly, he believed in your words without any shadow of doubt.

“ Tell me something about it, (Name). Сan people live here and never be afraid of hunger?”

You smiled again. These people think of such basic needs, and to have food for tomorrow is enpugh for them to feel safe.

“ Yes, they can. People even.. do other duties, there are little people who work in the farms, they earn their living another way.”

“ I see... is it that warm? Do you have snow like here?”

“ Oh, Thorfinn, Vinland is so wide, there are lands that have never felt snow on their soil, and there are territories which look like Iceland”

He opened his mouth.

“ But will there be any lands for my people to stay and have a good life?”

“ Yes, Thorfinn. It is so peaceful. We quarrell but in Amer- I mean Vinland, people of many ethnics live together at peace. And there are no slaves..”

“ It must be the safiest place to live, ( Name). But It sounds unreal, hm..”

You nodded tiringly. You got warm and now you just wanted to drown in the obvilion of sleep. Thorfinn saw it. He stood up and took your hand. How gentle he was to you. Now you saw him close. How gleamed his eyes, and how enthusiastic he was.

“ I want you to introduce to my friends tomorrow. One of them has been to Vinland. Will you go with me, (Name)?”

You whispered.

“ Yes, will..”

“ Then, all my thoughts of redemption were not in vain, I can fix all I had done”

You felt his heart bumping, his breath, he had something that worried him deeply. You put your effort and smiled again to him, for him.

“ Thorfinn, I promise you will.”

He brought you to your bedding. Finally, you had your sleep and it was the best sleep you had in your life.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #askeladd #askeladd headcanon #headcanon #Thorfinn headcanon #thorfinn imagine #askeladd imagine

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peeterparkr · 5 years ago

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OMG FINALLY! Dick Grayson one where his bff who he’s in love with is attacked by some guys in an alley and he saves her but is so worried that he removes his mask without thinking etc ... you can do whatever you like with it really! Xxx

omg I don’t know how this came out of that but I hope you like it! This is literally my first time writing for him so pls be kind. I’m sorry it sucks

warnings: assault, fighting, probably swearing.

word count: 2k idk HOW

My hero. Dick Grayson x Reader

Gotham was a handful. Never safe. You’d always walk around fearing your life. But at some point you didn’t want to be that way. You always tried to prove everyone wrong. You could take care of yourself, and most times, you did. But whenever someone would tell you to take care, you’d get mad. It was— stupid, maybe.

Maybe Dick Grayson was who you were trying to prove. Maybe. Your best friend who’d become a bit of an asshole lately. You’d grown up and grown apart with that. Maybe it was because of his new life.

You missed him at Haly’s. But of course, he wouldn’t miss you. As if he’d love to have the life you had by now. Life in your 20′s still working for a circus and now your second gig as a waitress in a bar. It wasn’t that bad.

Millionaire Grayson, that’s how your old friends used to call him. Everyone who ever knew him would call him that. You didn’t. You knew Dickie became distant for other reasons. He wouldn’t tell you which, but he had them.

He wasn’t that distant to you. You’d see him every now and then. There were a lot of things to Dick Grayson that you’d keep to yourself. Like being your first kiss, first love. First broken heart. And you remembered the first kiss, you were young, stupid. And he had saved you from falling down the trapeze.

‘My hero’ you had said and without a warning you had kissed him.

Ah, and without a warning, years later he’d broken your heart.

That’s when you drifted apart from him. But he’d come back every now and then, if he ever gave himself time to visit you. Sometimes he’d visit Haly’s to say hello after a show.

But he had left Gotham, and with that, he had also left you.

You didn’t expect to see Dick Grayson walking into that filthy bar you worked at, one would think you’d see him at fancier places, or not at Gotham at all. But there he was with a black coat, soaking from the rain.

You felt your stomach hop as you saw him. His dark eyes searching the room. You knew he probably was there because of you. From time to time you’d talk, text, and you had told him you’d work there now.

“Hey angel, bring me another beer,” one very drunken guy told you. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to get it.

Dick sat by the counter, alone. You walked past him. “Grayson,” you greeted him. It was weird, seeing him like this.

“Y/N,” he smiled. “Uh, I was just around the neighbourhood and uh-“

“No, you weren’t,” you chuckled. He couldn’t lie to you. You knew he’d come to say hi.

He blushed. “No—but I thought- I’d say hi.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s… it’s nice to see you, how have you been?” You blushed yourself.

“I’m good, I—I well-“

“Hey, angel, my beer, sweetheart, give that pair of legs a good use!” The asshole yelled.

You closed your eyes. “Duty calls.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Dick warned them.

“Or what, pretty boy? What you’re gonna do? Throw your fancy coat at me?” The guy laughed.

Dick quickly stood up and stormed to them.

“Dick, dick,” you said, standing in front of him. “I can handle them myself.”

“Oh, you’re a Dick,” the guy mocked.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Really funny, haven’t heard that one.”

Dick stepped in but you pushed him back. “Please, Dick, not tonight, we’ll catch up some other time, okay? Please, it’s alright..”

“Y/N-”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you pushed.

“We just called her an angel, suits her, anyway,” The bearded guy continued.

Dick glanced at you and opened his mouth.

“Please, don’t make a scene,” you begged him under your breath. You brought the guy his beer.

“Thank you angel,” he grinned as he basically undressed you with his sight.

“You better leave soon,” Dick warned them again standing in front of you , and they laughed.

“Dickie, please,” you begged him again, knowing damn well your boss wouldn’t like someone defending you. He was a bigger jerk than this guy.

Dick sighed and sat back down. You kept waitressing for a while, ignoring Dick’s stare. Always protective.

“Bye angel,” the man said to you before leaving. You stepped back and gulped. You decided to switch position with the bartender.

“You know I could get you a better job than this,” Dick intruded. “I—Bruce has several places where you could work at, I’m sure I could find you a spot somewhere.”

“Always helping, Dickie,” you shrugged. “I’m doing alright.”

“I—yeah, but—“

“I don’t want any sympathy, Dickie,” you told him. “It’s alright. I can take care of myself.”

“I just thought it could be so we can see each other more, like old times,” he pointed out. “We’re not kids anymore, are we?” He chuckled.

“Not really,” you smiled. “But we belong to different worlds, that’s okay. You deserved it, the fancy life—after what happened.”

Dick gulped and looked away.

“What do you do now, Dick?”

“Here and there,” Dick shrugged. “Complicated.”

You smiled. “They miss you, you know, everyone at Haly’s.”

“Everyone?”

“Mostly everyone.” You took a deep breath. You did miss him.

He sighed. “Yeah, I miss… I miss you too–I mean, I miss them,” he cleared his throat. “I miss them, too.”

You smiled to yourself as you turned to other customers. You were supposed to be waitressing.

“You shouldn’t be in a place like this,” Dick told you. He was probably right. But you hated when he got all protective on you, it’s not like he cared, anyway.

“I can take care of myself,” You reminded him. “It’s no better than any other place here in Gotham.” He knew you were right. “Besides, if something were to happen, I’d like to see one of those heroes get in here, they don’t really care about people like us.”

Dick stared at you. “How so?”

You chuckled dryly. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” you looked at him. “Or at least… Not the new Robin one. The old one, he… he really helped me out sometimes.”

Dick took a sip from his beer. “He… he did?”

“Yeah, it was weird, it’s been for a long time, Clay said Robin was my guardian angel,” you chuckled. “But you know how he is,” you smiled, looking down. “Haven’t seen him in a while, though. And guess Batman never gets to this part.”

Dick sighed, as he looked away. “Have you… have you needed help?”

“No, as I told you, I take care of myself,” you said. “You look different,” you pointed out. “Heard you left to Detroit.”

He nodded.

“What brought you back to this hell place?” You questioned him. “Anyone who gets a chance to leave Gotham should never come back.”

Dick looked at you. “Unsolved business.”

You clicked your tongue. “Well, hope you solve them quickly.”

He grinned.

“So… uh, how about we… we go out for dinner after you’re out or-?”

“Y/N, need you to take out the trash,” your boss came in. “And bring in more ice.”

You nodded. “I’ll… see you in a bit,” you excused yourself as you went to do as told. The old bar had an exit to the alley, where’d you take out the trash. It was dark and you never liked going there. You knew that you being sent there was a punishment of sorts, your boss liked to see you as a way men would buy alcohol if they ever spoke to you, however since Dick only had had one beer in his hand, it meant you’d failed at your job. Very indecent and degrading, really.

But you did as so, you took out the trash, it was still raining, and sadly, you were not alone. As soon as you had walked into the alley, there were men waiting for you. You tried to ignore them, but they closed the door for the bar. You tried to hide your shivering as they whistled.

“Look what we got here, it’s the angel,” The voice said, and you turned to see the bearded guy from before, his odour could be smelled from where you were standing, throwing away the trash.

You frowned and ignored them, trying to get back into the bar.

“Oh no, no, you don’t have your pretty boy to help you here,” he laughed. “C’mon angel.”

You tried to walk past him but he was surrounded by the other three that were once in the bar.

“I need to go back,” you said, firmly and tried pushing your way through.

“I don’t think so my angel,” the guy said. You feared everything and you knew this was too late. “And that was a wrong move,” he said, taking your arms and pulling you to him. You felt more hands on your body.

You screamed as loud as you could and tried to kick your way out but the other three surrounded you, the guy covered your mouth.

“Now, you’re going to cooperate, alright, you listen to this,” the guy hissed at you. You kicked him again and he pushed you against the wall. “Stop, now.”

You saw it as a lost battle. But before you could feel or see the worst, a shadow had appeared from the roof.

“Leave her alone,” the shadow warned and jumped right behind him, and then you covered yourself. The shadow kicked down the drunk horrendous guy as he easily took down the other three guys, fighting against them with no difficulty as he threw punches and kicked them to the ground. He kept punching them and you knew this was Robin. Even with the rain, you saw him.

He was Robin. The Robin you once knew, the one who had protected you before, not the new, young one with crazy hair. This was your Robin.

You fell to the ground, scared, as you saw now the four guys that were just surrounding you and touching you. You let out a sob, but Robin kneeled by you.

“Y/N, y/n, are you–are you okay?” Robin asked, and you looked up. And saw him, his eyes. His dark eyes. He had taken off the mask

“I–”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, they can’t hurt you.”

“Dick.” That was the only thing you’d managed to say. He panicked.

“What–?”

“You…” You cleared your throat. “Your mask.”

He saw his hand, he had taken off his mask. “I’m… I’m… shit,” he sighed, “I’m not a monster. I swear.. This… this is the reason why I left Gotham,” he admitted as he looked at the passed out men. “You must think I’m a monster.”

“I never said you were,” you whispered as you watched him, cupping his face. “You… It was you who was protecting me.”

He nodded. “I never really left you, back then”

“No, I guess you didn’t,” you admitted. “But then you did.”

He looked at you. “Are you… are you okay?” He asked, helping you stand up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you cleared your throat. “Guess I can’t… really take care of myself after all. But I guess I don’t… have to,” you coughed. “Thank you,” you said, kissing his cheek.

He put on his mask again. “Yeah.”

You stayed there, under the rain, watching him. Expectant of everything and of nothing at the same time. “Not only for tonight,” you pushed. “But for… always keeping an eye on me.” It was like you were transported to when you were younger and you’d stand in front of him, all childish and nervous.

He looked away. “Yeah, yeah–Look,, I’m… I’m not proud of whom I’ve become that’s why…”

You shook your head, taking his arm. “I don’t care, you’re always going to be Dickie for me,” you whispered as he got closer. “You always had it, the hero type.”

“I’m not sure if I could be called a hero,” he admitted.

“You saved my life,” you shrugged. “My hero.”

He bit his lip, and gulped. He remembered, and he understood it now. Without a warning, he leaned over to kiss you. And this time it was different. Maybe you’d grown up, but definitely, you hadn’t grown apart.

this sucked

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #brenton thwaites x reader #Brenton Thwaites #titans fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans imagine #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson blurb #dc fanfic #DCU Titans #dcu fanfic #dc fanfiction #batboys #batboys imagine

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noobsomeexagerjunk · 4 years ago

Text

we wake with the intent to find enlightenment

Eret was what any sensible Minecraft server would call a "player of games," descending from the first slayers of the Dragon that dreamed hard enough to achieve the highest level. He was the epitome of what the voices whispered in their little poem.

Well, he was supposed to be.

In a sudden new development of powers, Eret converses and looks back on conversations to finally figure himself out, to finally wake up.

(read on AO3)

chapter 1: and all those sparkles in my eyes still remain

When you talk with enough people, you are forced to think.

When you think hard enough, you are forced to change.

Eret did not mean to trim away (or make disappear, based on his witness) all the leaves from the trees in his castle garden with a flick of his hand, but he just did.

He neared one bald trunk and touched the branches. It was odd how clean the cut was.

He reckoned that something about his person changed that caused the phenomenon to happen.

That kind of change had not happened since he was still growing up when he was as young as the few children on the server, most of whom he loved fervently.

The first time he knew he was different from the other children, human or otherwise, was the white of his eyes, which were aglow perpetually and unnatural enough to make people, who didn’t have the family eyes, unnerved around him. At some point, people began to flee at the sight of him.

Perhaps it’s the legend that one relative of his that he had made for himself— yeah, that’s right.

That said relative had remarkable power and chose to make himself a nightmare amongst servers, which was a feat no one in his immediate family, with their own powers, chose to do. None of them had that kind of audacity.

Neither did he, who then just decided to chop down the naked trees, planting new ones in their place.

The mystery of the kin who had Eret’s blood could make monsters, villains, but also heroes, leaders, gods even! They’re the epitome of dreaming, of what man should be in the sandboxes that Minecraft offered. Eret, by blood, descended from those who lived fully through uncovering the hidden truths from that so-called poem, the poem a server would whisper to those who, when the dragon of that server’s End is slain, actually save the End in question.

Eret’s power gave him a particular knowledge when he first stepped into the Dream SMP, a knowledge that framed him as an alien god trapped in the fragile clay that was the average Dream SMP mortal. It’s knowledge of the End but knowing the art of respect (and in that knowledge, not breaking the rules concerning its restriction).

Despite all that, Eret was left still trying to figure whatever the fuck he was. She was? They were?

Eret was, as far as he knew, something .

Wilbur said he was a traitor.

Dream said he was a king.

Everyone else said he was a puppet.

He made himself a historian.

He was something. Some...things?

Eret knew that he and he alone dictated his identity. He did not know whether he was happy with what he gathered, with what he made, with what he was.

Blinking back into reality, Eret dropped his enchanted netherite axe, leaves now restored. He hadn’t even begun cutting down the trunks!

“Okay, this is getting weird,” He remarked, picking up his axe and placing it back in his inventory.

He then walked back into the quarters of his castle, heading into that hidden boudoir where he did his more private and intimate matters concerning his person.

Armor off, then after some consideration, robe off as well.

In his regality and decoration, Eret always felt most like himself wearing gray shirts and blue jeans. It was bland, (as one drunk Wilbur Soot once whispered to him playfully, during one of those nights before everything went wrong,) but it was comfortable.

The mirror of the boudoir was massive, reaching the room’s high ceilings, making Eret’s figure so small from within the room’s walls.

Eret picked up his crown from off his head and took a good look at it. The marks of enchantment on the golden material resembled blood splatter, the pretty, intricately-carved jewels covered in beautifully contrasting impurities.

Now, the SMP’s other known leaders, or at least those most fascinated by its powers? They were intriguing to Eret, many of them possessing skills he wished he himself had. In their crafts and games, it was odd how Eret never could hold his own against them.

Eret’s craft was a museum. Unlike symphonies, it had the right to remain forever unfinished. It depended on housing so many stories—there were too many stories left unsalvageable.

Eret’s game was the game of Jacks. As bad as he was at the game, it was the game he can’t help but choose to play. The ball is bouncy just as his crown is heavy, the bones in hands as little as the friends he actually had.

The (let’s be real here,) crown of thorns—the Crown which was currently in Eret’s possession—both allured and terrified, like a bomb waiting to be used, waiting to blow up.

Bombs made Eret remember a conversation with Tubbo and Captain Puffy on a visit to Snowchester.

“Independent?” Eret picked up the Declaration of Independence on the podium, reading the haphazard handwriting of the founder of Snowchester.

“Have you come to contest it, your majesty?” Tubbo approached from behind him with a snarking tone; pulling with him on a lead was a bay horse that Puffy was riding on.

“Well, no, as nothing of any harm is,” The nukes, ”um, well-“

“Yes, we are peaceful, aren’t we?” Tubbo maintained his tone.

“Besides the nukes, Tubbo?” Puffy interjected.

“It’s a deterrent!” The teen repeated, “Like I said earlier, Eret. I’ve got them decommissioned and we don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah, I can see how you’d come to that kind of protection,” Eret remembered Doomsday, “though I would request—actually no, recommend you communicate with me if you are going to use them at any point.”

“For what?”

“The help would be needed. You never know.” Eret was reminded of an equally alien red. Tubbo had mentioned seeing some growths on his land during their earlier conversation.

“I never do know, don’t I?”

Eret chuckled lightly, “Well, Tub-”

Tubbo suddenly smacked the ewe off the horse, much to her dismay.

“Tubbo! That hurt!”

“Thank you for getting off my horse,” Tubbo said, absurdly and frankly.

“Are you alright, Puffy?” Eret quickly went to pick her up, only for Puffy to be standing when he was at a reasonable distance from her.

“I’m good, I’m good.”

Puffy was quite a character. Her request of resignation was something he happily allowed, as her disillusionment with the server certainly coincided with his. He made no public spectacle of it (though to be fair, he never made a spectacle of his knight table, to begin with,) but had a meal with Puffy for it.

This was the price of an unannounced excursion. You leave for a month to make sense of all the chaos you’ve had to endure healthily only to come back to an even worse Dream SMP.

You have come back negligent. Wasn’t the break supposed to make you a better ruler?

Eret remembered welcoming Puffy when she first arrived, disheveled and a bit of a klutz, though nonetheless friendly.

Of course, who wouldn’t be a mess joining the Greater SMP, most especially after a historical act of political terrorism?

Eret quickly repressed the thought of Wilbur, though the dead fellow’s charisma seemed to leak out of Puffy’s excitability. She acted much like him, much like he was before Eret had hurt him: quick to founding family, being a shoulder to cry on, quick to burn when necessary, being a paragon of hope against tyranny and towards peace.

Captain Puffy had long wooly locks, brown and highlighted with a prismatic shade of white. She hid her eyes behind glasses like his, enigmatic like himself, surely? This ewe walked into the server with a friendly, warm wool onesie of many colors, reflected in her horns and hooves.

Eret’s shock was reasonable when she came to their little arranged meal together in a brand new costume.

She looked so much like Wilbur, as attractive as him, even. This was the man who had the ambition to fight tyranny through a division Eret thought at the time as dangerous.

The reminder can no longer be avoided.

In some way, Eret felt he was correct about the effect of L’Manburg, of it being a further cause of division in a server that didn’t need to create factions but to simply negotiate with words—to coexist and be passive and not be so Goddamn stubborn.

Dream and Wilbur, in their disagreements, agreed they were both unbelievably stubborn. Too mortal, too measly, two mere men...Eret found it awful how they fashioned themselves as immovable objects. He, for one, belonged to a race of men far more powerful than that of the two, and yet they had the audacity! What are simple server owners and the children of angels to dreamers? To the descendants of those who had taken the universe’s whims to heart? To the same brood that begotten the nightmare known as Herobrine?

Eret was something, but that something was not Herobrine, that’s for sure.

Wilbur could only handle so much. L’Manburg could only handle so much.

The stains of betrayal still prod and cry at Eret before his very eyes.

Nevermind. Eret wasn’t as sure, now that he thought harder about it.

He huffed to himself. He was being fickle.

Captain Puffy was quite fickle. She bent and broke like him, if her resignation as a knight was of any indication. She mothers a god but is so ever mortal and yet is so humble. People and happiness mattered to her, and that was why Eret loved her.

The tricorn hat and the long coat, worn out by what seemed to be the waters of storms instead of the fires of war, were an ashen color, black like obsidian, and were punctuated with gold pads, embroidery, and buttons.

She wore glasses like his, in that through certain angles, semi-hid eyes of enchanted prismarine. As we know, Eret’s glasses hid a blinding, mythical pair of whites.

“That’s quite the look there,” Eret remarked at the sight of her, almost tempted to blush.

“Yeah,” Puffy failed to hide her hesitance, “I, um, thought I needed a wardrobe change.”

“You didn’t have to dress up for this, you know?”

“I know, I know,” Puffy put a lock behind her ear, “This is just—how do I put this? Um, a necessity.”

He was about to jokingly question whether she was going to war, but then stopped himself in realization.

“I see. Come,” He gestured to her to follow him towards the table and food he set up before her arrival.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #we wake with the intent to find enlightenment #eret #captainpuffy #tubbo #wilbur soot #/roleplay

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heynikkiyousofine · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2 is up and going! I cannot wait to hear what y’all think. Thank you again @keichanz and @neutronstarchild for helping me get my stories up and going. without further ado, The Fairy Princess and The Prince Hanyou continues…

What Inuyasha saw made him speechless. There in the meadow, sitting among the first blooming flowers of the season, sat a small fox youkai chattering away, in the lap of a woman with waist length hair. His hands itched to run his fingers throughout it. She wore a soft, pale, yellow dress, hanging off her creamy, pale shoulders. Her dress covered her bent legs, only showing her bare feet, a pair of brown slippers sitting in her basket. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her giggling at the young fox’s story, his paws waving about in the air, her laugh like a tinker of bells. A warmth spread throughout his chest as he realized he would probably be caught creepily staring at this woman.

What that her son? Where did she live? The closest village was still a bit away. Could she defend herself if she were to be attacked? He noticed a small knife handle sticking from her left boot that told him she probably had never used it for anything other than the flowers in her basket. Wishing to know what she looked like, smelt like, be near her, he took a deep breath trying to decipher between the different scents coming from the woman.

He could smell the woodsy pine-like scent of the fox, his parents probably residing nearby as he could faintly detect similar scents towards the north. He could also smell the flowers that had began to bloom around them, similar to the ones in his mother’s garden back home. He also smelt the sunshine, or rather the warmth of the sunshine that covered the field, but couldn’t exactly smell her. It was like she blended in to nature around her. Puzzled, Inuyasha gripped his crossbow tightly, deciding he needed to find out about this oh so familiar scent.

As he took a step in the brightness, the fox quickly stopped talking and froze in his storytelling, staring at the Prince with his emerald eyes. The young woman’s back stiffened and the soft waif of fear drifting across his nose. “I’m not going to hurt either of you.” He softly rumbled, realizing he probably startled them both. As the young woman turned around carefully, blue eyes clashing with gold, Miroku and Sango came crashing through the underbrush behind him. Inuyasha turned around to stop them in time from coming closer.

“Where did you go?” “Did you catch one?” they both asked, breathing labored. Sango’s hair slightly a mess, lips glistening and swollen a bit. Miroku’s white tunic buttoned incorrectly. They both sported a slight blush, not knowing Inuyasha knew they had frequently been making out behind the stables at the castle. Rolling his yees, her turned just in time to see the young woman running away.

“Fuck. You two couldn’t have worse timing.” He gritted, his left hand clenching. Where did they go? They couldn’t have gotten far fast. Her eyes were of something else, a color he had never seen before on a person. It was as if his soul was reaching out to calm the frightened woman, his own demon berating him for scaring her, not protecting her. Looking around, he could smell all the same scents before, so he wasn’t sure which way they had went, but he vowed to look the next time he got a chance.

Across the field, holding Shippo is her arms, Kagome watched the group with shortened breaths, she hadn’t run that fast in a long time. The man himself didn’t frightened her exactly, she had just thought they were alone. After seeing his eyes and hearing his soft rumble, she wanted to stay and chat with him, a feeling of safety washing through her, like her soul knew she would be fine. It wasn’t until the couple behind him came crashing through the trees, that she realized she might be in danger/ She had grabbed her basket, Shippo clinging her stomach and she ran with all her might. She didn’t know how to use the knife she had hidden in her boot for self defense and Shippo was just a small child, despite being a fox demon.

Before she could keep berating herself even farther, Shippo whispered to her, “Gome’ let’s go. We can get back to Jineji’s house from here without crossing their paths.” Nodding in agreement, Kagome took a deep breath, reached into her basket and slipped on her shoes and turned towards where Shippo was pointing, the golden eyed man on her mind. They trekked through the foliage to Jineji’s, speaking softly to each other, both wondering who those people were and what did they want. “He reeked of dog.” Shippo exclaimed, his nose scrunching up. “The only inuyokai I know of are royals, but I don’t know if that was one of them. I haven’t met them before, just heard of them. Should we tell someone?”

“I don’t know of anyone who would believe us or would know what to do.” She responded sadly, “Besides, I think they might fear for our safety more than anything and not less us visit each other for quite some time.”

“Most likely. I wonder if they were going to harm us. We don’t have anything they want.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked down at Shippo in agreement, “I don’t know Shippo. Either way, we would’ve been in trouble, I don’t know how to use my knife like a weapon and you’re still a small child.”

Puffing out his chest, Shippo responded quickly, “I would’ve protected you! I’ve working on my fox fire!”

Giggling along, the two remained on their walk, watching their surroundings around them. As they came upon the herbal fields, they noticed Jineji in the farthest, digging through the soil. Greeting him with a smile, Kagome put the whole experience in the back fo her mind, until she could get home to Kaede and think about everything that happened. They spent hours enjoying the others company, staying for dinner in the hanyou’s cottage. As the stars began the light up the sky, Jineji walked Kagome and Shippo home, telling them to come visit in soon. Later on that evening, as the women began to get ready for bed, drinking lavender tea, Kagome began to ask Kaede about the royal families.

“Mother, have you ever met the King and his family?”

Nodding her head in response, Kaede set down her clay cup, “Yes dear, from quite some time ago. I’ve heard stories from travelers about how kind and welcoming they are now. People have been traveling far and wide from the eastern kingdom to find a new home.”

“What were they running from?”

“Well, I have told you plenty of times to never cross the eastern border, their leader Naraku is not a kind ruler to his people and many live in fear for their lives on a daily basis. I will spare you the details of the rumors I have heard, but you must promise me you never go looking.”

Nodding, Kagome went to change the subject. “What about our King and Queen? Are they fair people?”

“Aye. I have heard of their love and kindness for my entire life, since I was a young girl with my mother in the village near the castle. The King is a Inuyokai and his queen is a human, they bore a son a few years before you were born.”

“He’s a hanyou? Like Jineji?”

“Aye child. From what I remember he was a rambunctious child, until I came out here when you were born.”

“Can we go see them one day? I would like to see the castle grounds and the village surrounding it. Maybe be could go see your family?”

“Maybe some day child, I’m not as young as I used to be.” Kaede mused, laughter filling the air. “It is time for rest. Did you get plenty of flowers today? I noticed your basket wasn’t as full as usual.”

“Not as many as I wanted to, they aren’t in full bloom yet.” Kagome responded quickly, hoping Kaede wouldn’t pry more on the subject. She didn’t want to try and dodge the events of earlier and didn’t like lying.

“Okay, sweet dreams my child.” Kaede softly kissed her cheek before she strode into the sleeping room to her right. Sighing softly, Kagome began to think about said earlier events. The man didn’t seem harmful, but what if he had come from the eastern kingdom? His clothing wasn’t ratted or torn, almost a full royal outfit. His shoes were a shiny black leather that looked expensive. Picking up her cup, Kagome began to head towards her sleeping room, across the home from her mother’s. As she laid in her small bed to get comfortable for sleep, she shut her eyes and dreamt of glowing amber eyes.

Quietness swept through the night as the moon rose high in the sky, the only sounds a fussy child trying to sleep in the fox hut nearby. Rocking her child softly, Shippo’s mother stepped out the front doorway, so she wouldn’t wake her other children. As her newborn began to quiet down again, she caught the whiff of smoke and turned towards the eastern border. Emerald eyes widening, she gasped softly and let out a yip, not too loudly, but enough for her husband and mate. He woke with a start and hurried toward her in the doorway with a questioning look. Raising her hand to point, he turned and stiffened in fear. Along the tree line, red and orange flames covered the treetops, smoke rising high in the sky. Hearing shouts and screams nearby, he turned toward his wife and nodded. Grabbing her outstretched hand, he whisked her into the hut and started to wake his three sleeping children.

‘Shippo, wake up. We must go.” He began, only to raise his voice and he shook the fox demon awake. Grumbling in response, Shippo slowly opened his eyes to see his father’s frightened face. “What’s going on Papa?”

“Hurry and help pack a bag of thing for you and your sisters, there’s people coming with fire.” Jumping up quickly, Shippo grabbed his green knapsack and went to fill it with a small coat and some fruit, knowing there wasn’t much else that would fit. As he stepped to grab his youngest sisters arms to carry her, he heard men shouting and metal clanking against one another. His sister whimpered, turning her face to his chest, his papa grabbed his bags and ushered them to the door. Feeling a wave of nausea wash over him, Shippo watched as a man with a long braid and even longer sword push through the doorway, his face shadowed by the flames behind him. The man stood tall, with a large purple mark on his forehead, his halberd resting on his left shoulder.

“Who are you!?” His papa asked, gathering everyone, but him and his sister behind him. He was too far away with her squirming in his arms to be protected.

“None of your business. Naraku has sent us here to take you to him, if you refuse, we will kill you.” Shippo’s mother gasped softly, holding her new born baby closer to her breast and Shippo held his sibling tighter in his arms. She kept trying to run from his arms.

“We will never go to him.” His papa spat, taking a step back, guarding his family as best as he could. The smell of fear filled his air, making Shippo’s eye water just a bit and as he was taking a step back into the corner to hide from this frightening man, his sister pushed out of his hands and ran across the hut. Before she could get to her papa’s arms, the man with long braid picked up the screaming child and tossed her into the arms of a large man behind him. “No! Give her back! She’s just a child!” Shippo’s papa cried. Tasing his sword, the braided haired man walked closer to the family, not knowing Shippo had tucked himself behind a wardrobe.

“You will be coming with me, whether it’s in chains or death.” The man grinned wickedly, using his sword to shove them towards the door. Shippo held his breath as he watched the man push his family away, catching his father’s attention. His father’s with hardened eyes, nodded and mouthed “I love you.” Staying hidden behind, he could hear his father and mother shouting, his sisters crying and more steps as they moved father away, toward the eastern kingdom. Sitting there quietly for some time, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks, he smelt the faint whiff of smoke, and something else he couldn’t decipher, and looked out. His house was beginning to burn! Scrambling, he crawled quickly to doorway, only to stop where he was. There was his whole family laying on the ground, blood surrounding their bodies. Sobbing, Shippo ran his papa, pleading him to come back. As the flames grew behind him, he realized he could no longer feel his father’s youki or his fox fire. Wailing, he hugged his papa’s neck as the blazing hut behind him fell to the ground in the night.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed before the fire had begun to spread across the grass towards his family, but Shippo knew he couldn’t carry them all to safety, so he grabbed the ribbon in his mother’s hair and the small knapsack his father had put together, and began to run towards the only place would be safe. Tying his hair back into a ponytail with the green ribbon, Shippo looked one last time at his family’s bodies before ember flames engulfed the field. Grabbing the knapsack and the one across his back, Shippo trekked through the night to Kagome and Kaede’s cottage.

Frowning in her sleep, Kagome tossed and turned fitfully, dreaming vividly of crimson eyes, evil feelings and screams of torture. Gasping awake, Kagome bolted upright to the sounds of sniffling and footsteps coming towards the house. Quickly getting to her feet, Kagome grabbed her slippers and ran to the doorway, just in time for Shippo to burst through and grab her gown tightly.

“What is going on?” Kaede asked, causing Kagome to turn, holding onto Shippo just as tightly. Shippo began to sob, Kagome stroking his back softly, whispering that it was okay and he was safe. Kaede quickly brought the fire to life and filled the kettle with water for tea. After a few minutes, she poured three cups, filling Shippo’s with extra lavender to help calm him down. Sipping his warm drink and hiccuping, Shippo recounted the events. When he was done, Kaede rose to her feet quickly and turned towards the back of the cottage, grabbing a few bottles of herbs along the way. Ignoring her for the moment, Kagome held Shippo is her arms and cried softly for him. He was alone in this world. His whole family gone in one night. He will stay with me and I’ll never let him be alone ever again.

Before Kagome could come up with a plan to ask her mother if he could stay with them, Kaede came back with a bag filled with her cloak, bottles, fruit and a letter, sealed tightly and a determined look on her face. Puzzled, Kagome looked at her with fear brewing in her eyes, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Child. I need you to change into your clothing and traveling boots, not your slippers, and come back in here and sit with me.”

“Kaede-“

“Child, now. There’s no time.” Kaede urgently responded. Kagome rose to her feet, spinning and taking her and Shippo to her room to change.

“What’s going on ‘Gome’?” Shippo asked drowsily, feeling the full effects of his tea.

“I don’t know, but sleep for a little while. You need to rest.” She whispered, laying him down on her bed. Changing quickly into her pale yellow dress, Kagome returned to the living area with her brown boots in her hand. Smiling Softly, Kaede patted the spot next to her, gesturing for Kagome to sit.

“I need to tell you how I came upon you.”

“You’ve told me this story before. My mother left me in your care before she disappeared.” She responded as she finished putting on her boots.

“There is more to it. You see your pendant?” Nodding, Kagome fingered the precious heirloom, wondering what this had anything to do with it. “Remove it, Kagome.”

Taking a deep breath, Kagome removed the light blue necklace, lifting it up above her head. As she did, she felt this wave of power fill her entire body, like she was glowing. Opening her eyes. Kagome held her breath as she realized her hands were actually glowing! They lit up like the soft moonlight, sparkling like glitter when the light hit them just right. Raising her eyes quickly, she saw Kaede smile softly.

“Kagome, go stand and look in the mirror in the wardrobe. After I will tell you everything.”

Gathering herself, she stood, her legs wobbling slightly as she carried herself towards the worn down wardrobe with the large mirror hanging inside. Not sure what to expect when she looked, Kagome’s hand flew to he mouth in awe. There reflected a woman, whose entire body sparkled like her hands before, with hair as dark as her own, adorned with a flower crown. Her crown twisted with all her favorite flowers rested atop her perfectly curled hair and her pale yellow dress compared to the soft silkiness of her almost midnight hair. She always knew she had blue eyes, that she had never known anyone else with the same color, but her eyes now almost seem to bore into her soul, as if there was a deep, power residing behind them. A soul that could see into the depths of another person. As amazing as all those things seemed to her, her eyes were more focused on what was behind her, actually what was attached her.

Thin, almost see through wings sprouted from between her shoulder blades, completely silver, with lines of gold outlining the edges. Reaching softly over her shoulder, she grazed one, only for it to flutter and sparkled dust fell from it, towards the wooden floor. Eyes wide, she turned toward Kaede who just watched her and waited for her to come sit back down. Putting her pendant back over her head, she felt as if she were underwater. It reminded her of her swimming memories with Shippo last summer, floating in the river. She looked quickly in the mirror, only to sadly see the same reflection she’s seen her entire life. Striding quickly, she sat down beside Kaede, eager and confused to hear what she had to say.

“Child. You have heard of the stories about how Naraku came to power. How he slain the King and Queen and their child in the Eastern Kingdom, only to take over and and create pain and suffering throughout the lands. Child, you are their daughter.” Kaede didn’t know this right away twenty years ago, but after word had spread of the event and the visit from the wounded lady, she had taken off the pendant whenever Kagome slept one night, only to see little wings protrude from her back.

Shaking, Kagome felt light headed. “Are you sure? Why now? Why didn’t you tell me before? Does this have anything to do with what happened to Shippo? Does he know? Does anyone else know? Why did you pack that bag? Kaede-“

Shushing her child with a look she knew too well, Kaede softly spoke, to not wake the sleeping child in the next room. She wasn’t sure if Shippo knew anything of the story or if he had any idea about who Kagome was. “I knew your mother. She came to me when you were about four months of age. She was deeply wounded, almost to the brink of death. She looked a lot like you, long dark hair, but eyes that were brown and filled with sadness. She handed you to me, told me your name, that you were special and that I needed to keep you safe. Before I could help her or figure out anything more, she fell to the ground and disappeared into dust. After that, I heard of the fallen kingdom and knew who you were. I would tell you someday, knowing you were going to have to travel to the northern castle and ask for King Toga’s help to succeed in getting your home back. I believe you are the one who will bring peace back to all four kingdoms.”

“How? I’m only a kid still. I’m not yet twenty years of age. I don’t even know how to fight!” Kagome cried anxiously.

Holding her as she began to cry, Kaede cuddled the crying child, whispering words of encouragement. “You will learn as you go. You will meet many people and creatures. Other mythical creatures will know exactly who you are and you must not trust anyone. When you get to the palace, you must show the king who you truly are and he will keep you safe. Naraku, I believe wants your power. It is foretold to be the strongest in time, one that could bring any kingdom to its knees.”

“How though? Mother Kaede, I can barely withstand slicing an animal’s body to provide for us. What power do you speak of?”

“Raise your right hand like this. Close your eyes. Breath in and out. I want you to look into your heart and feel the tug on your soul, one that reaches down within you. That is your power.” Before Kagome could shut her eyes to try, a loud shout came from outside the cottage. Quietly rising to her feet, Shippo stumbled from the bedroom, fear in his eyes and ran to Kagome’s outstretched arms. Footsteps quickly came to the door and a loud knock had all of them standing in silence.

“It is the King’s guard, we wish to speak with you.”

“Come in.” Kaede commanded, no waver in her voice. A large man came through the door and Shippo climbed to Kagome’s back, hiding from sight. He knew this scent and began to tremble.

“Are you Lady Kaede? Priestess here in this land?”

“Aye. However, I have not practiced in a long time, I only deal with herbs and potions.”

The man with the long braid and even longer sword looked around the living space, watching the old woman and the young with hard eyes, growing with suspicion. “Who is this?” he pointed with his sword at Kagome.

“This is my adopted daughter.”

“Adopted? So she does not have spiritual powers as well?”

Shaking her head, Kaede took a step forward, slightly shielding Kagome and Shippo behind her. “What do you need with me?”

“Naraku.”

Swallowing a gasp, Kagome began to tremble as well, looking at the back of Kaede’s head, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Kaede spoke angrily, “What does he want with me? I am but an old woman, with only the aid of my child. I have no use for my powers nor harm anyone with them.”

“He wants you. He instructed us to bring you to him alive.”

Nodding, Kaede inquired, “What about my child?”

Smirking, the man looked at Kagome as lust formed into his eyes, “I’ll take good care of her.”

Turning around to face her, Kaede hugged Kagome tightly, holding Shippo as well, and whispered, “Run. Take the bag and Shippo and run. When I leave, this man intends to break you. You must not let him know who you are. Remember everything I said tonight. I love you my dear daughter and I will see you soon.” When Kagome went to give her love back, a sharp tug pulled Kaede from her arms, the large man with a yellow head wrap dragged Kaede out the door.

The man with a purple mark across his forehead began to untie his belt from his waist and a sinister grin stretched across his face. “My name is Bankotsu, and your mother will be just fine with my men. You are young and beautiful. I’m sure you will be fitting to be my woman. Do not worry, I won’t be too rough for your first time.” As he encroached closer to Kagome, slowly unbuttoning his pants, Shippo jumped on Kagome’s shoulder and shouted “Fox Fire!”

Blue flames spread across Bankotsu’s pants, near his private areas, causing him to scream in pain and hatred burn deep in his eyes. As he dropped to his knees and tried to put out the fire, Kagome sprung in to action. She grabbed the bag Kaede put together and ran out the front door. Turning to look both ways, she saw flames toward the easter border and decided the opposite was the best. Not glancing to see if the man was behind her, she ran as fast she could towards the forest, only stopping to turn around at the edge to look at her mother.

Kaede, hands bound with rope, was being guided into a wagon by the man from who grabbed her earlier. Anther man, one who looked like a monster, taller than cottage, was helping Bankotsu to the wagon, while holding a flaming torch. Tears falling to her dress, Kagome grabbed the bag and tossed it onto her back, and whispered her love for her mother in to the air. Shippo grabbed tightly on her shoulder and Kagome ran towards the next village over.

Somewhere near by, Inuyasha rose from his sleeping position in the tree. He could smell them, the ones who smelt of death and graveyard soil, like they had been buried for a long time. He knew Naraku’s henchmen were nearby, inside the northern borders and knew he should get back to the castle quickly to warn his father. Looking to the eastern sky, Inuyasha grabbed his gear and urged Miroku and Sango to get on their horses He saw the flames stretch across the forest, burning everything in its path to the ground, and the sun rising above the treetops. The smell of sunshine and wildflowers coming and going across his senses, as he took off through the forest.

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spideeysense · 5 years ago

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It started with a roll. A Royal!Bucky Barnes x Reader fic. (Part 3).

A/N: Hey all! Here is part three, I was having internet troubles this morning and was unable to post but here is part 3. I am not sure how I feel about this chapter, I usually write long stories. So once again feedback is appreciated! This will be a 5 or 6 part series.

Please let me know if your name showed up on the taglist, and/or if you would like to be added to it!

Warnings: None, some sadness, mentions of poison.

Part 2

You awoke the next morning, a little bit after dawn. Your eyes were itchy with sleep, but you pulled yourself out of bed anyways. You splashed your face with some water from the basin on the dry sink, and turned toward your wardrobe. You quickly pulled a whole semi-ok outfit together, complete with a drab petticoat your neighbor had gifted you a while ago, and pulled on a cloak. Swiftly you packed your things. Outside the bakery you waited. The world around you had started to awaken. The merchant across the street was opening, and multiple stalls were starting to be filled with what was to be sold today. Today, the streets were to be lively and filled with activities. Women getting their last minute adjustments at the tailors, and children enjoying their day off from school. Soon the streets would be filled with music and conversation.

You made sure the door to your bakery was locked, and quietly waited for Peter outside. You leaned against the wall, eyes cast to ground until a pair of shoes entered your sight. You raised you head and smiled, “Peter!”

Peter smiled at you and took your arm, and you gladly took it, still, albeit awkwardly, holding the box in your hands.

“Excited for today?” Peter asked as he cocked his head to the side to look at you. You beamed up at him with the upmost happiness. Peter saw why the King had taken such an interest to you. “Yes!” You almost squealed.

“How long has Astoria been here? Where is she from?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Peter looked at you quizzically. “Hmm a couple weeks? I’d say. She’s from a neighboring kingdom, her father and Buck’s father had this planned since they were infants.”

You hummed at his response and stared at your shoes as you mulled over the information in your mind.

Soon, the pair of you arrived at the Palace, however instead of entering through the main entrance, you entered through the West Gate, which was closer to the kitchens. Peter opened the door and held it open for you. Inside you found a pair of girls bustling about the kitchen.

Peter cleared his throat to get their attention. The two girls turned around quickly and bowed their heads.

“Bella and Marie” Peter introduced them to you. “They will be with you to help today,” He explained as he removed his cloak and hung it on his arm. You gave the two girls a small wave and they smiled at you. You took out your utensils and laid them out on the counter. Quickly, you scribbled down your recipe on two pieces of scrap paper and handed it to the girls. You explained how to correctly knead the dough, and make sure that they were in perfect shape. As you were looking for rosemary through the many cupboards. You pushed away many small bottles of spice, some you have never seen before, and some had clearly not been used in a long time. Something caught your eye. A bottle labeled belladonna. Strange. You thought. What was this doing here? But before you could examine it further, Bella pulled your attention away.

“Looking for the rosemary? Here.” Bella tossed you the bottle and you grabbed it. You kept your finding to yourself and rearranged the spices, to make it look like no one had found it.

Soon, the kitchen was bustling with activity. People were coming in out, carrying several stacks of plates, or rolling a tray car filled with crystal champagne flutes.

“How many people are coming tonight?” You asked as you pushed a tray of dough into the large clay oven.

“400? 500? I think.” Marie said. She was up to her elbows in dough and flour. Bella had been kneading dough into shapes for what felt like hours, and could feel her hands numbing.

You choked on your own spit. “That’s quite a lot of people,” You murmured.

“It’s not too bad, besides, it fluctuates. Beforehand the two royal families eat dinner together, it’s a sort of tradition you know to congratulate the couple. I heard Astoria’s brother is superbly handsome.” Bella explained.

“The best part is the food. You see that’s the only dinner that happens, it’s very private. However there is a separate room at the ball that will be filled with all sorts of little snacks, like these rolls we’re making right now. It’s my favorite place to be stationed.” Marie giggled at herself and her and Bella started bantering back and forth.

Around you chefs worked at the ovens, maids bustled about with cream colored table cloths, and handymen went back and forth through the kitchen carrying chairs with plush red cushions. However not once had Bucky come into, either to say hi or see how the preparations were going. You scolded yourself. It was foolish to think that a King would come down to specifically see you. Let alone think about you, on h

Soon, Bella and Marie had finished their duties with you and you had let them go, and they both left as quickly as they could, obviously, they had not enjoyed making bread all day. With dainty hands you placed all the rolls in a large crate, and packed them away with cloth. You gave them to a servant who worked in the kitchen. Peter appeared at the entrance of the kitchen and beckoned you to come towards him.

“All done?” He asked and you nodded. “Alright, you’re good to go. I’ll have a carriage come for you at around 8:00 o’clock,” Peter explained and clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Maybe we’ll run into each other tonight, you never know at a masquerade.” Peter winked at you.

You gathered your things and left the palace. You took extra time when you passed by the garden admiring the flowers. A gardener passed by you carrying a large bouquet of hyacinths and you stared at them in awe. As you continued on your way out you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!” It was Bucky and he gave you a small wave.

You waved back and continued on your way. Ignoring the eyes of the servants.. Maybe he was thinking of you after all.

Back at your bakery, you only had a few hours until 8 o’clock. Your employees had worked all day and you made a mental note to increase their pay for that day.

You closed your bakery early and told your employees to go home and enjoy the festivities.

You quickly locked up the front door and made sure everything was put away before heading upstairs to get ready. Eagerly you pulled out the box that held your dress and mask. You carefully slid into the dress, careful not to tear the lace or the tulle. It took several tries to get it nice and secure around your body. You stared at yourself in your mirror. You twirled a little bit and smiled at how the hem of the dress lifted off the ground and spiral around you.

Your fingers traced the intricate designs on the bodice, and the small crystals that were encrusted on the off the shoulder neckline.

The clock on the wall chimed and you realized how late it was. The carriage would be here in an hour, you had to hustle. You did your hair as intricately as you could, and accompanied your outfit with some simple jewelry you had. You slipped on the mask that Bucky had gifted you and once again admired your reflection. No one would be able to tell you weren’t a noble, thanks to Bucky.

Carefully you walked down the stairs, careful not to trip on the gown. You exited through the back door, and made sure you locked it. Outside you found a simple black carriage, with two horses in the front.

“Lady Y/N?” The coachman asked.

You blushed at the title, thankful that the mask covered your blush. You reminded yourself to scold whoever gave you that title. Most likely Barnes.

The coachman got down from his seat and help you into the carriage. Once inside you chuckled at how you were sitting. Your dress created almost a large cushion around you.

The carriage moved forward with a jolt and off you were.

Soon you arrived at the Palace. A large crowd was pushing their way inside. Once again the coachman helped you out of the carriage. Awkwardly, you stood at the edge of the entrance. Unsure of what to do. This was your first royal ball, ever, and you were doing it alone.

Taking a big breath of air, you followed the crowd inside. The beauty of the palace amazed you again. However at night, it seemed more beautiful. The chandeliers glistened like stars, and the paintings seemed to be awake.

You followed the herd of people to what you could only assume was the ballroom. Inside, people were dressed in large intricate masks which matched their costumes. You did see the odd person that was wearing a more simple one or none at all but where was the fun in that. People were laughing, conversing, and in the center dancing. You took your time to explore, studying people, wondering which one was Peter, or Steve, or even Bucky.

You did find the hall where the food was being served, and people were streaming in and out. You took this chance to snack a little and grabbed a champagne flute filled with golden bubbly liquid. You recognized the flute as you had seen the same type in the kitchen earlier.

After snacking you headed back into the main hall. The music was loud and more and more people were crowding towards the dance floor.

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention and you turned around. A man was standing behind you. He was wearing a dark coat, and his mask was as intricate and detailed as the others. You could see his eyes through the mask's sockets, and recognized them immediately. It was Bucky. Behind your mask, you beamed. He offered his gloved hand and you took it happily.

“May I have this dance?” You heard him say. Cautiously you looked around you, worried Astoria would somehow catch you even though she wouldn’t be able to tell it was you. After assessing the fact there was no threat you nodded your head.

Swiftly and gently, Bucky pulled you onto the dance floor. You tried to match his confidence as you had very little in your own dancing skills. He placed one hand on his waist and the other held your hand.

The music started soft and slow. The couples around you danced and twirled. As the song started to pick up, his grip on your waist tightened.

You followed as best as you could, careful not to step on his toes. And when he twirled you, you were cautious of the other couples around you.

Bucky was over the moon right now. Dancing with you was simply a dream come true. He had recognized you by your dress and mask as soon as you walked in. His heart fluttered at the sight, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He let you explore around a bit, he did not want to bombarde you right away. It had taken so much self control to not pick you up and dance till his feet were numb.

You found yourself staring into his eyes as the dancing continued, completely unaware of the world around.

He leaned down ever so slightly to whisper in your ear. “You look stunning tonight.” The words sent a chill down your spine, and you were thankful he could not see the red that kissed your cheeks right now.

The dance slowed to an end and Bucky and you were the last couple to pull apart. He dragged you off the dance floor, and out of the ball room.

Bucky let out a stifled breath and laughed. “I was worried I was gonna trip you for that whole song. I swear, it’s like I have two left feet.” He joked and you laughed.

“Well I believed it was very graceful” You said, and when he offered his arm, you took it.

“Do you want to take a walk out in the garden?” Bucky asked nervously.

You smiled, aware that he couldn’t see it, and nodded. “Let me make a quick trip to the powder room.” You murmured and pulled away from him.

“Oh it’s right down there,” He mentioned and you followed his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

You opened the door quietly and found yourself surrounded by the overpowering smell of roses. You stood in front of a mirror and adjusted your dress.

“Have you seen him?” Your ears picked up on a conversation that was happening away from you.

“No,” the other voice said. “He’s going to be your husband Asty, and you’re telling me you haven’t seen him all night?” The voice scolded. Your heart rate picked up and you were quick to pretend that you were very focused on your appearance. Astoria, and who maybe was her sister, or mother, were having a very heated discussion.

“I told you, it’s a masquerade, the whole point is that it’s a night filled with secrecy.” Astoria hissed. “So this night is an excuse for him to see other women?” The voice continued. A jab of guilt stabbed at your heart.

“Don’t worry, everything will fall into place once we’re married.” Astoria retorted back.

“It better be, if you don’t get him subdued, then this whole marriage was pointless.”

“Mother!” Astoria hissed as she motioned towards the figure that was standing in front of the mirror. Before either of them could question who you were, you left the room. You were very grateful for the mask that covered your face.

You found Bucky waiting patiently outside and quickly ushered him away from the room. “Let’s go shall we?” You asked.

Bucky and you admired the garden as you walked through it. Small paper lanterns were lining the trail, and it illuminated everything in a soft glow. You let Bucky pull you along, enjoying the comforting silence that sat between you.

He led you through a small hedge maze, and in the center you found an overgrown marble structure. Bucky led you inside and beckoned you to take a seat. He pulled off his mask, as did you, and placed it on the ground.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” You quipped, relishing in the fact that you could breathe more clearly now.

“No,” He laughed heartily at your joke. “This is the part where I tell you that you look beautiful.” He said cheesily with a smirk.

“You sap!” You punched his chest lightly, and he placed a hand on his heart acting if he was hurt which made you laugh harder.

For a second you were caught staring at each other, and in realisation you looked away.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss him right then and there. You stared at the night sky, the gears in your head turning. Bucky placed a soft chest on your arm. “What are you thinking about doll?” He asked. Your stomach felt like a thousand butterflies were trying to push their way out.

“You and I.” You mumbled.

“Why is that?” He asked.

You shrugged and shook your head. “No reason.” You lied.

Bucky inched closer. “You can tell me.” He hummed as his hand found your jaw.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You said softly, your eyes casting to the ground. You realised you mistake and instantly regretted it. Bucky’s hand immediately dropped from your jaw. His reaction just made you believe in Astoria’s words further.

“I’m sorry, my god that was uncalled for.” You quickly stood up, the alcohol rushing to your head and you leaned against a pillar for support. You held your skirt in both hands and rushed out of the gazebo.

“No, it’s fine.” Bucky whispered, he was quick to follow after you.

“It’s fine?” You turned around and almost hissed. “It’s fine that you're getting engaged and yet you make nightly visits to have a conversation with me. It’s fine that you get me a pretty dress, and spend a night dancing and laughing with me. Really Bucky?”

“Whoa where did this come from?” He held up both his hands in front of him.

You rolled your eyes, careful to not let out all your emotions.

“You’re getting married Bucky. After that, whatever we’re doing simply, cannot continue. I am not something you can simply use for the time being.”

“Doll, come’on seriously.” He sighed, his hands finding his coat pockets.

“Did you really believe that we would be allowed to continue this way after your wedding.”

Bucky had no clue where this was coming from. Really he didn’t. As soon as you confessed, he was so ready to say he felt the same, and was ready to risk it all for you. But he was simply too slow. Maybe he was really that dumb. “Forget about it Buck,” You mumbled, turning around and walking away. Away from the gazebo. Away from him.

taglist:

@unlistedpond @thefallenbibliophilequote @sebastianstansqueen

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #x reader #royalau

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just—I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.�� Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #nana boleyn #in aeternum little lamb

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untilmynextstory · 5 years ago

Photo

CHAPTER ONE: HOME

WORD COUNT: 18K

WATTPAD | FANFICTION | AO3

Also I think I might only be posting the first chapter on here. I’m not sure yet. It’s just these chapters are really long! I’ll see the response this gets if I will post the second chapter on here.

The best part about returning from a run is simply coming home. When he was younger and unattached, Jackson Teller thoroughly enjoyed the perks of the runs. The women, booze, and the vast road had always been something to look forward too. Although it’s hard to believe that it has been only six years since he has last indulged in the many pleasurable vices the club has to offer.

Those vices paled in comparison of the treasures that waited for him in his small three bedroom ranch. Jax wanted something bigger – much vaster. With his lifestyle, he had the means to spoil those he loved.

Even if he would have preferred a stripper pole in the bedroom, Jax would never look to replace his quaint home that rests at the end of the cul de sac. It’s hidden by the redwood trees and the dark brick exterior blends in perfectly. If it wasn’t for the cars and the bright childlike paraphilia that decorated the lawn, most would probably miss it.

The growl of his bike echoes throughout the neighborhood. He has learned to ignore the looks that peek through curtains and how some neighbors still shoo their kids back inside when he rides through the settlement of family homes courtesy of Elliot Oswald. It’s one of the few developments that the club allowed to pass through.

He pulls into his designated spot in a long driveway. After the week-long run, his bike is in a serious need of a wash. He would put the task off onto the Prospect, but instead he thinks it would be good to do it at home.

He grabs his bag filled with dirty clothes and a few souvenirs as he enters the house through the side door, which leads him into the laundry room. He immediately throws his clothes in one of the baskets.

Leaving the laundry room, he stands in the hallway and his eyes sweep around. He expects to hear the platter of feet and maybe the TV shouting some Disney song. The house is quiet – seemingly empty.

Yet, a quirk settles on his lips. He walks into the kitchen and places his pack on the kitchen island. If the house wasn’t so quiet, probably would have missed the shushing sound followed by childlike laughter.

Jax plays along anyways.

He exaggerates his movements as he opens cabinet doors and checks behind pillows as he questions if anyone is home.

The first bedroom painted a baby blue color covered in posters of various athletes and a few drawings of Harley motorcycles is empty.

The second bedroom painted a lavender color with silver accents. He had expected his life to be overtaken by princesses and tiaras. Yet, the only thing he has been subjected too is glitter tutus.

The laughter gets a little bit louder as he gets closer to the final destination. He knocks very loudly on his bedroom door before he opens it.

It’s instantaneous that he is attacked by his two kids.

“We got you, Daddy!” They shout between their laughter and giggles. Jax laughs along with them as he holds them tight in his arms. He looks at his oldest first, who has his blue eyes. It’s been six years since he has become a father. Six years that made coming home from runs the best part from going on them. He runs his hands through his son’s dark wavy hair before he presses a kiss to his head. Outside of the eyes, Nathan is all his mother.

He turns his attention to his youngest, his four year old daughter, who owns his whole heart. Her brown eyes are a carbon copy of her mother’s whiskey ones, shining brightly as she tugs at him. “I missed you so much, Daddy.”

Jax’s smile is bright. “I missed you too, Babygirl.” He hugs Kaylee tighter. She squirms in his hold as she presses a kiss to his lips as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Did you miss, Mama, too?” Kaylee wonders as her blonde furrow in seriousness.

A shadow overtakes them and Jax looks in the doorway. Alma stands in the doorway with a fond, proud smile as she watches the scene. Jax’s hold slackens around the kids. He places another kiss on each of their foreheads. His hands grip the familiar curves of his wife and he answers his daughter’s question as he presses a burning kiss to his wife’s plump lips.

The kiss barely lasts 3 seconds when he feels small hands tugging at them while Nathan exclaims gross.

Jax pulls away as he looks at Kaylee. “Daddy, you going to come swimming!” It’s then Jax realizes both of their kids are clad in their swimwear. The in ground pool they added last summer seemed to worth the money as he is sure his kids are going to turn into fish with how much they swim.

“Sure, but I think Mom needs to help me with my swimming trunks.”

Nathan scrunches his nose as he grabs his sister’s hand. “Come on.”

Kaylee gladly follows her older brother.

Alma huffs as she turns back to go into their bedroom, she is already wearing her bathing suit. The two-piece that is an electric pink is something he doesn’t recognize. Jax surmises it must be new. He closes the door and knows that he is on a serious time crunch. His kutte is thrown onto the bed.

Alma can barely squeak a Hi before he attacks her lips. His body hums in the familiar taste of oranges that he associates with Alma.

His hands find purchase in her short brown hair as he nips and sucks on her pouty lips. A week was nothing in the grand scheme of things. The longest run he had ever been on was a month as the club had managed to open a few charter on the East Coast. That run had been brutal as Nathan had only been 3 months than. He told Clay that he would never go on a run that lasted for more than two weeks.

Alma pulls back, “Jax, baby, slow down.” She whispers against his lips.

“I missed you.” He tells her as he places another softer kiss to her lips. They’ve been married for five years and Jax didn’t think the wanting would ever stop.

“Me too, but we have tonight.” She smiles at him and her arms wrap around him. He can’t help the wince as she hits a particularly tender spot.

She frowns and pulls back from him. “What happened?”

Jax chews on his lip. He had hoped he would’ve been able to hide the bruises from him a little bit longer. He honestly almost forgot about the bruises he received three days ago.

“I’m fine.” He tells her. He hopes to distract her with a kiss, but she creates a bigger distance between them.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine, babe.”

She folds her arms across her chest. Jax sighs as he kicks off his shoes. The room is quiet as he goes and removes his socks, jeans, and boxers and replaces them with swimming trucks. He removes his white t-shirt last. He exposes the sets of bruises that dot his skin like a grotesque connect the dots his daughter loves to do.

Alma is at his back. Her touch gentle as she skims across a bruise that is near his kidney. “Was it the Mayans?”

“Don’t stress about it.” He dismissively.

“How can I not?” She retorts.

Jax turns and brings her into a hug. He places a kiss on her forehead. “Everything will be fine.” The words don’t bring any comfort as she is stiff in his hold. “Just be careful and keep your gun on you.”

Alma pulls back completely and he can there are many questions on her tongue, but she doesn’t ask. “Nathan’s grounded.”

“What?” Jax says mostly from the complete 180 in turn of where the conversation has turned. “Why?”

“He got into a fight at school. Won’t tell me why so until then he is on punishment.” Alma says tiredly. Jax wants to question why she didn’t tell him this fact during their many phone calls, but he doesn’t. “I’m tired of being the bad guy,” she tells him softly.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Alma gives him a small smile.

“Mom! Dad! Come on!” Both chuckle and they go to exit their room, but Jax grabs her wrist and pulls her back. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The great thing about an indoor pool is that it works wonders in tiring out his kids. Nights like these where he is anxious for uninterrupted hours with his wife makes him not regret spending over a grand for the concrete pond.

He watches as Nathan does his night time routine, which consists of feeding the fishes in his room. He is too big for a night light now, but he still sleeps with his Mr. Toad. It was the first thing Jax ever bought for his son. Considering his reaction to finding out Alma was pregnant, he had a lot of groveling to do and the stuffed toad was in the one in plenty of the apology gifts.

He tucks his son in bed. He can hear Kaylee and Alma from the bathroom as they brush their teeth. He looks back to his son, who is already six years old.

Fatherhood wasn’t something Jax never seriously thought about. He knew his mother wanted him to have kids. Gemma wanted the grandkids despite never liking any of the girls he hung around with. Even then with the promise of free pussy why would anyone want to settle down and have babies. Babies meant a bigger responsibility that he felt was greater than the club.

And then it only led to one time of him not using protection for him to enter the world of fatherhood. He doesn’t regret having a kid at 18. His children are something he would never regret.

Fatherhood just brought a lot of responsibilities, or crisis to his state of mind. When he held Nathan in his arms for the first time Jax had been confronted with his own morality and mortality.

Nathan despite his blue eyes was all his mother. Even down to their temperament and mannerisms. Nathan was Alma. He was the best part of him, but all of Alma. Jax knows the life he leads. He knows that Nathan is expected to follow into his footsteps. He isn’t going to say he doesn’t expect the same thing out of his son. But at the same time, his son could have more.

He can’t picture his son coming home with bruises or killing a man in cold blood. But Nathan is a part of him; he has a part of him that has violence coated in his DNA.

Jax sits on the edge of his son’s twin sized bed. “Are you going to tell me what you did in school to get in trouble?”

Blue eyes peek up shyly from behind the comfort of his cover. Nathan’s fist clutches the navy blue comforter as he turns on his side still facing him. “Mom worries too much.”

Jax places his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Your mother loves you.”

Nathan nods his head as he clutches Mr. Toad.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to talk about this.” Jax tells his son as he gets up from the bed. He is at the door and getting ready to turn off the light when Nathan speaks up.

“You love Mom too, right?”

“With my whole heart.”

Nathan smiles before his eyes close.

Jax makes his way next door where Kaylee is already tucked in, but he finds a stack of books on her nightstand.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to read all these,” Jax tells her as he skims through some of them.

Kaylee smiles, her missing teeth noticeable. “Why not?” She can’t stop smiling to even pout.

“What are we going to read for tomorrow?”

Kaylee’s eyes go wide like a deer. “Will you be here tomorrow?” She asks softly.

A lump forms in Jax’s throat. “Of course.”

“Okay, we can read the story about the mouse and cookie.”

“Sure thing.”

Kaylee falls asleep by the 10th page. Jax smiles as he places a kiss on her head and turns on her nightlight.

Turning off the hallway light, his bedroom is encased by the moonlight. Alma is already laying in bed. He frowns, but he wonders if this is a slight payback for his reluctance to tell her about the bruises on his back. He strips down to his boxer briefs and slides behind his wife. He sees she is only wearing a cami and cotton panties. He concludes she must not be too mad.

He wraps his arms around her bringing her back into his chest. He just holds her relishing in her weight and warmth against him.

“The kids are growing up so fast,” he tells her. It feels like only yesterday that he was holding a newborn Kaylee in his arms wondering what in the hell he was going to do with a girl.

“Your mom said the same thing.”

“Yeah, and what does she have to say?” Jax already has a feeling on what his mother had told his wife.

“She was wondering if we planned to move into a bigger house.”

The fact that her husband hesitates makes Alma turn over to face him. His eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Despite the fact both of their children were unplanned, she knows her husband wants more. She still is unsure if it’s more from his mother’s urges or the need for her to be fat.

“I wouldn’t mind a bigger house,” he answers. Alma has mixed feelings on expanding their family.

Alma does not nor will ever regret her children, but she can’t deny that she feels as if she was penalized for having babies by 18 and being married by 17. Even worse, the father was the blonde biker Jax Teller and now her husband. She had fulfilled the stereotype that she fought against all her life. She had plans. She wanted a life outside of the world she grew up in. She still doesn’t know why she had let Jax Teller into her bed. She knows she can’t deny that she loves him, by being pregnant at 16 and practically having to settle down wasn’t something she wanted.

Since she was 17, she had been a stay at home wife and mother. With Kaylee starting school this year, Alma yearns for more than just being a mother and wife. She loves her husband, her family, and even the club, but she doesn’t have one thing for herself. She has nothing outside of it.

She takes a deep breath. “I was thinking of looking for a job.”

Alma knew from a young age college wasn’t something she wanted. Instead, she found herself doing acrylic nails. Since she was young she had been doing her mom’s, most of the old lady’s nearby including Gemma and Luann, as well as a few neighbors. She had a steady side hustle to maybe even open her own shop. Though she thinks she will try her luck at applying at a few shops in Stockton to learn the business first. She couldn’t let her license go to waste.

Jax doesn’t say anything. “Besides, after Kaylee being in the hospital…” She adds.

Jax’s hold tightens. Kaylee inheriting the family flaw was hard on all of them. They were lucky she was even able to get into school. Gemma had been worried about the germs and the toll of letting strangers take care of her granddaughter.

“If we have no more kids, I’ll be fine with the two we have. Though I’m not going to object to more.”

“And for me to start working?”

“I’ll support you with whatever you want to do.” He tells her earnestly. She’s relieved that he doesn’t suggest that she could just work at the garage.

Alma smiles wide and she rewards her husband with a sweet, wet kiss.

Alma knows there is not a lot to do in her days. One, her day is catered to a four year old. There is a lot of cartoon, coloring, and sometimes temper tantrums. Most days, Alma spends her morning trying to teach her daughter her letters, numbers, and colors. Afternoons are when they would frequent parks, or run errands with Gemma for various things. Today they are venturing to Stockton. Alma is dressed in a modest summer dress that can pass for business attire. She even dressed Kaylee in a pretty little dress and blonde hair in two buns. Jax telling her that he had to actually work on the garage said he could take Nathan to teach him some things.

Alma is in a very good mood despite her sparse resume, but she has a portfolio of the work she had done throughout the years. She knows she shouldn’t really expect anything, but the fact she is doing something for herself is all that matters.

She knows that the only thing at her disadvantage is she isn’t a regular at Claws. It’s a very upscale nail salon. The parking lot is packed and as she eyes the Mercedes and Hummers in the lot she feels very inadequate. She grips Kaylee’s hand a little bit tighter as she walks through the sleek glass doors.

Inside is cool and the interior is cold from the harsh geometrical designs from the lights to the sharp edges of the desks. Alma knows she can’t be picky and this place is currently hiring. Besides, her work will speak for itself and maybe if hired she will break down and let Gemma take her on a real shopping spree.

Alma approaches the receptionist desk with a bright smile where a blonde with pink glossy lips and fake boobs greet her warmly.

“Hi, are you in for an appointment or are you a walk in?” The receptionist asks.

“Actually, I saw in the paper that you were hiring. I was hoping I could apply?” Alma questions.

“We actually might even be able to get you an interview right now. We are in desperate need of help.” The blonde informs her. “I’m Holly, by the way.”

“Alma Teller, but I have my daughter with me,” Alma looks down as Kaylee looks up and waves at Holly.

“She is so cute, but that will be no problem. Our manager, Kim, is here right now. The wait will only be a couple minutes.”

Alma isn’t able to reply as Holly leaps from her desk and walks across the room to an office that overlooks the whole salon.

Alma turns her attention to her daughter, who is thankfully being good. “What do you say about some ice cream after this?”

Kaylee’s eyes go wide. “Mint chocolate chip!”

“Up even with graham crackers.” Alma promises. Alma digs in her purse for her daughters leapfrog to at least keep her distracted enough for this possible interview.

The sound of heels clacking against the ceramic floor brings her attention to a tall lanky woman in a black suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is in a severe bun.

“Holly tells me you’re looking for a job?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me. Holly can watch your daughter.”

“Are you sure?” Alma asks as she looks from Kim to the receptionist.

“It’s fine. I’ll sit her right here so you can see her from the office.” Holly promises.

Alma nods her head and whispers to her daughter she will only be a couple minutes. Kaylee is too consumed by her leapfrog to care.

Alma follows Kim to her office. The salon only has a handful of clients, but she can tell by the shine of their rings it’s more about quality than quantity.

Alma isn’t even in her seat before Kim speaks to her. “Have you ever worked at a salon before?”

“Uh, no. I have not.”

“You’re applying to be a nail artist right? I don’t need another Holly.”

Alma clutches her portfolio and offers it to Kim. “I work from my house. I’ve been doing nails since I was a kid.”

Kim takes the folder and opens it. “You barely look older than 18.”

“Thank you, but I’m 22.”

Kim is quiet as she flips through the portfolio. Alma hopes she is impressed. “Why did you decide to wait until now to work?”

“I have two kids. I am a stay at home mom and wife. My youngest, Kaylee, is starting school. I decided it was time.”

“Married and two kids at 22,” Kim whistles. “Tell me the differences in gel or acrylic nails?”

“Gel nails have a more natural look with a glossy finish. And if primed right, gel has no damage to the nail bed that acrylic would. Gel nails cure faster and more flexible than acrylic nails. Although, acrylic nails are more durable and sturdy.”

“If hired, considering your lack of previous work, you will go through a three week trial period where we can fire you without just cause. Your work is good.”

“Thank you.”

“You from Stockton?”

“I live in Charming.”

“Really? I heard…” Kim clears her throat. “Alma Teller tell me more about yourself.”

“Well as you know I have two kids. My oldest, my son, is six. My youngest, Kaylee, is four. I’ve been married for 5 years to their father. I’ve lived in Charming all my life. I’ve been doing nails since I was young. My mom and various friends and family I’ve used for practice. And now I’m looking for something to be outside of a wife and mother. I want to improve my skills as a nail artist.” Alma tells her and as she sweeps her hair out of her face she watches as Kim narrows at her tattoo on her left bicep.

“If hired, we don’t allow tattoos in the shop.”

Alma looks down at her crow. “Okay.” She knows it will be easy to cover up.

“You said you’re from Charming, right?” Kim asks again.

Alma nods her head, but dread feels her belly.

“Alma Teller, I know that last name.” She watches as recognition washes over her features. “Does your husband own that mechanic garage? The one with that motorcycle gang?”

“It’s a club. A motorcycle club,” Alma refutes on instinct. She knows where this is already heading.

Kim eyes her silently as she closes her portfolio. “Leave your portfolio with Holly. Someone will get back to you.”

She still takes Kaylee for her ice cream. It takes everything in Alma not to cry like a baby at her first failed interview. Maybe she needs to develop thicker skin. She knows she needs too. Having Jax’s name is going to follow her around especially outside of Charming. People in Charming tolerate the club, but their hold doesn’t go beyond the borders. Her mother had warned her about this when her pregnancy test turned out positive with Nathan.

Alma doesn’t want to mope in the house nor does she want to spend it on the bench outside of the clubhouse. Instead, she drives over to the Winston household. Thankfully Donna is still home with a newborn Ellie.

Alma is sitting in the backyard as she watches Kenny run around with Kaylee. The only comfort that Alma had during her pregnancy with Nathan was that Donna was pregnant with her at the same time. At least Donna had been 18 and a few months shy from graduating high school. Alma had been the one to walk the halls with a big belly as whispers and snide comments followed her for being a biker whore. After all, Jax had managed to talk his way into her pants when he was on one of his numerous breaks with his high school girlfriend, Tara.

“Al, I think you should just open your own shop. You already have clientele. You have the talent.” Donna tells her. Alma leaves out the part of the interview when the woman realized her connection to the club. The club is still a little bit of a sore spot between Donna and Opie and Alma doesn’t want to add any more fuel to it.

She smiles at her friend’s supportive words. Sometimes, she is envious of Donna. Donna still had managed to have her independence from Opie despite the marriage and baby at 18. Donna had a good job working as a receptionist at Oswald Lumber. Opie loved her wholeheartedly. She and Jax didn’t have the most conventional start of a relationship.

“I don’t know…”

“What’s stopping you?” Donna inquires. “Kaylee is starting school. Nathan is 6. They aren’t babies. You need your own life too ya know.”

“I know.”

Donna places Ellie in a swing and shields her from the sun. Donna’s eyes narrow. “Is Jax not being supportive?”

“He is. He is. Maybe I’m just a little bit scared.” Alma admits.

“Alma, you need to start doing things for yourself. You take care of Jax, the kids…you need to start taking care of you.”

Alma picks at the hem of her dress. Alma thinks that is part of the problem. Her whole love has been so consumed by Jax she doesn’t know anything else. As proven earlier, her identity is seemingly tied to Jax and the club.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe start looking for some spaces. Go to the community college and take a couple business classes.”

Donna smiles and gives her knee a squeeze. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“So unsure of yourself. Everything okay between you and Jax?”

“We’re fine,” Alma insists.

Donna eyes her, but doesn’t press. “Nathan, say why he got into that fight?”

Alma sighs. “No. Jax said that he would talk to him.”

“He’s a boy. Stuff like this happens.” Donna soothes.

Alma purses her lips. “It’s just Nathan would tell me everything…”

Donna gives her a knowing smile. “Nathan will always be a mommy’s boy, Al. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Alma snorts. “That is so not it.”

Donna chuckles. “Sure it’s not.”

“It’s not!” Alma protests.

Donna shakes her head. “Hey, do you know what the guys did on the run?”

Alma’s smile dies and she thinks about the fading bruises on her husband. He still hasn’t said how he managed to acquire those. Now she’s only curious as to what happened to Opie to make Donna wonder as well.

“No, I don’t.”

Donna frowns. “I’m worried. I know…I know some things.” Donna knows that club isn’t exactly legal. “I found a bloody bandana in Opie’s pack. His clothes reeked of smoke.”

“Would you want to know the truth, Donna?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t recognize Opie if I did.” Donna confesses before the cries of Ellie wanting her mother’s milk interrupts.

“Dad, can we please please please have lunch on the roof?” Nathan begs as he follows Jax into the clubhouse.

Jax decided to bring Nathan to work with him today. There was no pressing club issue and it gave Jax time to bond with his son. Jax isn’t a great mechanic like his own father, Clay, and even Opie, but he enjoys the work. He enjoys that it gives him something to teach his own son. Something so innocent.

With the large lunch box in his hands, he looks at his son’s blue imploring eyes. For some reason, Alma did not like the thought of her babies on the roof. He knows better than to take Kaylee. He thinks motherhood has made Alma a little anal in some respect. “You better not tell your mother.” He warns as they go to the ladder.

Nathan knows better than to stand too close to the edge as they find the clusters of crates. They use a crate to make a makeshift table. Nathan preferred to sit on the ground while Jax sat on the blue milk crate.

Their lunch contained two chicken salad sandwiches, Gatorade, cookies, cheese and crackers, and a small container of fruit salad. Nathan’s portions were obviously smaller than his.

It’s quiet between father and son as they eat their lunch. Jax looks out across the lot where he can see the bustling bodies below and the expanse of Charming before them. He is brought back to his own childhood where his father would bring him up here. Jax has seen many sunsets and sunrises on this roof. It’s one of the few places he can go to escape and actually feel calm.

It seems his son feels the same way.

Jax turns to Nathan, who is greedily eating his food. Some of the chicken salad is smeared on his cheek. He realizes his son is losing some of the exaggerated features of childhood even at six. He can see under the baby fat that his cheeks will be of Alma’s. His straight nose will be his own to match his eyes. He knows his son will most likely inherit his tall height compared to Alma’s short stature. He watches as Nathan pushes back his wavy hairs from dangling in his eyes with a scowl.

“You ready to get a haircut?”

Nathan shakes his head. “I want my hair to be as long as yours.”

Jax smiles as he pushes back his straight blonde locks. The tips are brushing the edges of his shoulders. The only reason his hair is this long is out of neglect. He hasn’t just had Alma cut it for him yet.

“You might need to put in a ponytail soon.”

Nathan’s nose scrunches. “Then I will look like Kaylee.”

“Your sister is cute.”

“She’s a girl.” Nathan says knowingly.

Jax smiles that Nathan still has his innocence when it comes to the opposite sex. Nathan moves from the floor of the roof and pushes a crate next to him. His boy mimics his movements as they munch on their cookies and overlook the small town.

“You going to tell me what happened at school?”

Nathan frowns and he begins picking at the seams of his shorts. “A boy pushed me so I pushed him back.”

“Is that all?” Jax presses.

“He said…”

“He said what?”

“He said that we were white trash. So I told him to shut up. Then he pushed me.” Nathan reveals. “Am I in trouble?” Nathan asks with watery eyes.

Jax shakes his head. “No, you’re not. But next time he says something, you need to tell your teacher okay? Your mom will worry if you get into more fights.”

Nathan nods his head.

The two play I-Spy and soon point out familiar landmarks. That leads into Jax telling his son about treasured memories of him and his father.

“Will you lead the club with Uncle Opie?” Nathan asks after Jax regales a story about him and Opie thinking they were mechanics and took apart their father’s bike out of curiosity.

“One day,” Jax tells his boy. He knows Nathan isn’t stupid to some of the on goings around the club. Despite Alma being raised in this life like him, it wasn’t easy. There were nights he would come home reeking of gunpowder that would lead to loud spats that were unfortunately witnessed by Nathan. The worst was when Jax had been in a rush to leave from the house and Nathan had seen him stuffing a gun in his ankle bracelet.

Jax still remembers that fight with Alma, who was heavily pregnant by that point with Kaylee. He was surprised she didn’t induce labor with how she chewed a piece out of his ass. But they both knew it would come to a point where they could hide the truth from their boy. There would come a point where Kaylee would need to know the truth too.

“One day soon?”

Jax shrugs. Clay wasn’t giving up the gavel soon and at this point Jax wasn’t sure he even wanted it. He knew it would pull him away from his family more than being a simple patch would. He remembers the nights his dad wouldn’t make it home due to business. How his mom would clutch a rosary that she thought was hidden beneath bracelets or gold necklaces. “Not for a little while.”

“When can I be a member of the club?”

“Not until you finish high school,” Jax replies. Unlike him, he wasn’t going to allow his son to get a GED. He knows Alma isn’t either. It will probably be the one stipulation his son will need to follow if he wants to be a patch.

“But that’s in forever!”

“It’ll go by fast,” Jax soothes. He wraps his arm around his boy. “But I want you to be a kid forever.”

“I don’t.” Nathan pouts. “I want to be just like you, Dad.”

Every Sunday, they had dinner at Gemma’s. There was no exception, but once a month out of those Sundays, they had a Potluck. All the members of the club (including the mechanics) and their family were invited to Gemma’s.

And this Sunday happened to be one of those. Alma had grown up looking forward to these Sundays. Even more, she remembers being doting on like a princess on these Sundays. After all, she was the only daughter of a First 9 member. She’s Chico Vellenueva’s daughter.

Alma is working on adding cheese to the anti-pasta salad when she hears Gemma’s heels smacking the floor.

Thankfully, she and Gemma get along. They butt heads occasionally, but she has never received the cold shoulder or passive aggressiveness that Gemma bestowed on girls Jax would bring home. She assumes she got brownie points for giving her grandchildren and managing to tame her son.

Even then, Gemma was an aunt to her growing up. She remembers wanting to be like Gemma growing up. Poised, elegant, but deadly like a viper and sharp like thorn on a rose.

“You hear from your mother lately?” Gemma asks.

Her mother, Ana Rodriguez, her father’s favorite croweater, was one of the first croweaters that had managed to snag an important member. She gave them hope that sucking dick could actually lead them somewhere. Despite that, Alma is considered royalty. That royalty is what she sometimes felt made her and Jax obligated to get married when he got her pregnant.

Her mother and father were together until Alma was five before they split up. Her mom was tired of the life and wanted a man that was home and most of all faithful. Despite having Alma, her father never wanted to marry her mother.

She knows there was a time she didn’t see her father for a few months. She was living with her grandmother when Gemma Teller had found them. She doesn’t know what Gemma said, but the next day she was back in Charming. Her mother and Gemma have been enemies ever since. She only knows that the ice had thawed a bit when her father became the first casualty of the Mayan War.

Though the frigidness returned when Alma became pregnant, her mom advocated for an abortion. She didn’t want her tied down to Jax so young. Her mother didn’t want her to be with anyone from the club. She knows her mom is still disappointed in her decision to marry Jax. It seemed before the ink was even dry on her marriage license her mom had moved out of Charming to live a different life. She was too young to be a grandma, she said. Gemma never forgive her mother for that or for Ana turning her back on the club.

“A few days ago. She talked to the kids. Told us about a wonderful vineyard she is at with a boyfriend. It’s very kid friendly.”

Gemma snorts. “What in the hell are kids going to do at a vineyard?”

Alma shrugs her shoulders. “Crush grapes?”

“Sometimes, I wonder about your mother. She acts like it’s a burden to come to Charming and see her grandchildren.”

“At least she calls. Sends them things. We video chat. They know her.”

Gemma purses her lips together. She knows there is more on her tongue to say, but she doesn’t waste any more breath on her mother. “Jax mentioned you were thinking about going back to work.”

Alma fights the eye roll. Her husband has very loose lips. She did not want Gemma to find out about this until things were more concrete. She only nods her head as she goes to the fridge to add the pepperoni.

“You know I could use help in the garage.” Gemma offers.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Alma wants something outside of the club. Besides, she does appreciate some distance from her husband.

Gemma places a hand on her shoulder. “I know things can be hard and sometimes a bit lonely, but you’re not alone, sweetheart. You do have a good husband and a good life, don’t forget that either.”

Friday means no kids until Sunday morning. Gemma keeps the kids on the weekends. It’s more of a break for her than Jax. Of course, depending on Jax’s schedule they would keep the kids, but more often than night, Alma looks forward to the weekends.

After spending the day cleaning her empty house with her glass of wine, Alma strips out of her sweats and a forgotten oversized shirt of Jax’s. She makes the water hot enough that her skin will be pink and fog the shower in less than a minute.

She begins her shower with washing her short brown hair. She had cut it short more for convenience. She was getting tired of the hair in her face as she ran after two kids. She knows Jax misses her long hair. She thinks she misses it a bit herself and thinks she might try to grow it out. Maybe even put a few blonde highlights in it. She scrunches her nose as that would mean matching Gemma.

She sighs as her fingers massage her scalp. Maybe she will dye all of it blonde. She is rinsing off the suds when she hears the slap of metal hitting her bathroom floor. It’s seconds later when the shower door opens.

“Can you have it any hotter in here?” Jax comments as he steps in.

“No one asked you to be in here.” She replies as she turns around and steps under the full spray of the water to get rid of the excess water.

Jax steps under the spray and she huffs as he steals most of the water making him laugh. “Did you see the kids?” She asks as she grabs her soap.

“Yeah, stopped by my mom’s with Clay. They were already in their pajamas. I was practically shoved out the door for interrupting their time with Grandma.”

Alma smiles and she pauses her cleaning as she wraps her soapy arms around her husband. “Well don’t worry I won’t kick you out…along as you behave yourself.”

“And what happens if I’m a very bad boy,” he eyes with a waggle of his eyebrow.

“You’ll get punished.” She tells him as she bite his nipple causing him to jump.

Alma laughs as she goes back to rubbing soap across her body. Jax moves around her to grab his own soap. The two are in a comfortable silence as they shower. Of course, Jax can’t help himself and get a few gropes here and there. But outside of shower sex being complicated, this had been a routine of theirs after the birth of Nathan and even more so after Kaylee. They found taking a shower is the only time they could talk and enjoy the company of each other without one of their kids wedged between them.

“You wanna take a ride?” Jax asks as he begins washing his hair. Alma is surprised that Jax doesn’t want to stay home on this Friday night.

“Every time we go on a ride, I end up pregnant.” Alma jokes.

Jax’s eyes light up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Alma doesn’t bother replying to his comment. “Is it cold out?”

“Your denim jacket will do,” he tells her as she steps out of the shower.

Alma squeezes her husband tight as he roars on the open road. He knows she prefers the late rides in the night than those during the day. She loves the wind whipping her hair. She even puts her arms out and screams “she’s flying” as he speeds down the highway.

Even before they were married or together, she had always begged Jax to take her on rides. He always obliged especially when he was looking for an escape himself. She loves being on a motorcycle. She loves the freedom of the open road. They are on the border of Charming when Jax stops at the gas station with a small store. He claims he needs more cigarettes even though he promised her that she would quit.

She follows him a few steps behind. She rolls her eyes as he greets the cashier, Louisa. The young blonde seems to be her age, who blushes at his attention. Alma can’t even feel mad as the girl pulls down the front of her shirt to show off a modest cleavage.

“You want anything, darling?”

Alma stuffs her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket as she follows Jax to the aisle he is standing in. By the smirk on his face, she knows it might get him punched. She finds her husband standing in front of the small display of condoms and lubricates.

She looks at her husband with a scowl.

“Hey, you’re the one that isn’t on birth control.” He points out as he skims the different brands and styles.

“I keep track of my days,” she tells him as she slaps his hand as he picks up a box. “I don’t want a warming condom.”

“We never tried that one before.” He says innocently.

“You trying to say my pussy’s cold?”

“Never.” He tells her seriously. He swipes a small pack of the ultra-thin.

“You know, you can buy these by the case. Be a lot cheaper.” She tells him. It’s not like they use them all the time. Just when she is ovulating. She knows that she should just get on birth control especially now that there are more options than the pill.

“Nah.” He brings an arm around her shoulder. “A box at a time keeps me humble.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Jax laughs as he goes to the counter to check out. Louisa’s cheeks are still rosy from Jax’s greeting and Alma spies the white frill peeking from the V-neck of her shirt. She can admit the girl is bold to do that with her standing with Jax.

Jax pays for his things as he follows her out the door.

“I think the cashier has a crush on you,” Alma tells him as they reach his bike.

“What?”

Alma stares at her husband knowingly.

“Your boobs are bigger.” Alma scoffs at him. Jax gives her a wolfish smile as he approaches her. She’s unprepared for the slap on her ass, which he soothes as he rubs it as he pulls her into his chest. “Besides, you know I’m an ass man.”

“Sometime, I really hate you.” She mumbles against his chest.

“No you don’t.” He tells her as his hands weave into her hair. He places a soft kiss to her lips, but she chases his lips as she leans on her tippy toes. He meets her lips again and she doesn’t feel bad if she breaks Louisa’s heart. But Jax is her husband and it is disrespectful to try and flirt with a woman’s husband when she is standing right there.

She’s about to pull back and suggest they go home when the dark sky is lit up. It almost like fireworks are lighting the sky with the booming sky that follows.

Jax’s body goes rigid. “Shit!”

With the explosion at the creek, the joyous mood had been disintegrated. Jax had loosened his lips enough to tell her that it was one of their warehouses. He didn’t elaborate. Yet, as he stayed most of the day at the clubhouse on Saturday to handle the blowback, according to the news and the paper most knew that the blast belonged to SAMCRO. Alma suspected it was the Mayans.

Alma spent the day indoors as she didn’t want to deal with the looks or whispers. Jax didn’t come home late in the night and as he cradled her in his arms, he had offered an apology.

With it being Sunday and not finding the kids at Gemma’s, she had to travel to the Charming Gardens to pick up her kids. This was no doubt a scheming move from Gemma to show the town they had nothing to hide from.

The kids are too busy feeding the ducks to notice her presence as she finds Gemma sitting on a bench watching the scene with a smile.

“You could’ve just dropped them off.” Alma says flatly.

Gemma looks at her from behind her sunglasses. “You need the sun – fresh air.”

“That’s what my backyard is for.”

“Staying in the house only makes you look guilty.” Gemma accuses.

Alma purses her lips as it isn’t about her. It’s about the kids getting the brunt of the blowback. She knows how cruel parents can be and how it trickles down to their children. She can only imagine the nasty things they are already saying. She knows deep down that the fight Nathan got it has to be from a kid repeating the words of his parents.

“Gem –“

Alma’s words are cut off as Nathan’s screams for his sister in the park.

There are times when Jax can fully understand why his mom is crazy overprotective. There is no greater fear or pain than that of bearing witness to your own child’s suffering. He has learned that from the time he had to witness his firstborn stumbling in taking his first small steps.

Though that fear and hypervigilance was magnified with the birth of Kaylee. They had a child with medical needs – critical – needs. With Kaylee’s birth, he had been transported back in time to watching his mother practically live at the hospital with Thomas.

He thought he could connect with that pain his parents were feeling – to simply share it. They all loved Thomas, but now as a father; he can truly feel that pain. It’s a pain that never goes away. Never.

His strides are swift and determined as he walks the halls of St. Thomas. He is more than familiar with the floors of the hospital for the first six months of Kaylee’s life they became a second home.

He finds his mom sitting in a lounge chair, Nathan clutching her as they rock together. Luann is silent as she holds vigil next to Gemma.

Clay, Opie, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs are behind him. He is barely aware of their presence as his mom’s eyes connect with his. This pain she can’t hide from him. Her hold on Nathan becomes tighter as she nods to the door next to her.

He debates if he should comfort Nathan. He debates if he should hold his son, but his mom seems to be enough comfort for now. He moves to the door and can see through the window Alma looking into the adjacent room as they perform surgery on Kaylee.

He clutches the doorknob as he opens it. A blast of cool air and grief hits him. Alma’s whiskey eyes turn to him. They are wide and scared. He is transported back in time to her being only 18 years old and wondering why Kaylee wasn’t wailing when she gave birth. He remembers seeing how blue Kaylee looked and believing his baby girl had been still born before a broken cry escaped her lips before they took her away.

He remembers it being weeks before they could hold their daughter without tubes and wires keeping her alive.

Alma is in his arms immediately. She clings to him and he can feel her tears soaking through his shirt. He clutches her. His hand finds purchase in her brown hair. He wants to say everything will be alright, but he can’t.

Alma pulls back a little as she looks up at him with watery eyes. “They have to run the wire through her leg, up to her heart.”

“What happened?” The only words that he was able to make out from both her and his mother were Kaylee was in the hospital. Both were crying too hard for him to really understand.

“She was playing with Nathan when she just collapsed. I don’t know.” Alma sobs.

It takes everything in Jax not to crumble along with her. He knows that he needs to be strong for his family. He needs to be strong for Alma. He turns his gaze to the operating room. His baby girl is in the center. Wires connected to her to monitor her heart and breathing like it did when she was a newborn.

He can’t help but notice how small and fragile his girl looks as they work to correct her heartbeat. He presses a kiss to Alma’s head. “It's gonna be okay, darlin’.”

“Like she hasn't been through enough shit.” Alma mutters.

Jax tugs on her hair making her look up at him. “She’s going to be okay.”

He receives a watery smile as Alma melts into him.

In the clubhouse getting ready for this current job was the last place Jax wanted to be. He shouldn’t be here really. He should be back at St. Thomas with his family. Kaylee’s surgery was a success and she was staying at the hospital for a couple days as a precaution.

But business still needed to be handled. He would have opted out. Bobby, Tig, or even Chibs could’ve replaced him. This was his job, a simple one that he and Opie had done many times before. He was still weary on Kyle as the man had been distracted by his marital problems. Besides, this retaliation against the Mayans needed to be done. Jax swaps his white sneakers for his black ones. He slips a gun in his ankle holster. To keep some form of anonymity, they are wearing all black and the kuttes are to be left at the clubhouse.

He hopes tonight goes by smoothly. When he left, Kaylee was sleeping and Alma had dozed off as well. Nathan was being spoiled by his mother. Jax takes a seat on the edge of the bed in his former dorm room. He still has meager belongings in here. Extra clothes so the kids don’t smell the gunpowder. He has a drawer for Alma and the kids as well. Pictures of his youth are still stuck on the wall.

A knock comes from the door and Opie pokes his head in. Jax nods his head that it’s safe to come in.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“It’ll be quick.”

“Kyle and I can handle this on our own, ya know. Or Chibs and Tig can be the extra lookout.”

“It’s like you don’t want me to go.”

Opie smiles. “You should be with your family.”

“I am.” Jax tells him as he stands up. “Besides, you know I got your back.”

“Kaylee will be alright, Jax.”

Jax looks up to his best friend with shiny eyes. He feels like shit that he can’t feel that optimism. Kaylee’s heart will always be a problem. He fears his daughter might suffer the same fate as his brother.

“No need to go to that dark space, right now.” Opie cautions.

“I know. I know.” Jax sighs.

“Well lets go set off some fireworks.”

It all happened so fast. They dispatched the guards quickly, set the boom, and as they enjoyed the fruits of their labor. Sirens were on them immediately. Jax doesn’t know how he lost sight of Opie, but all he knew was Kyle had bailed at the first wail of a cop approaching. Kyle had left them stranded. Worst, Opie had gotten arrested.

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning as he walks down the halls of St. Thomas to Kaylee’s room. Clay wasn’t too happy and he had debated on calling church immediately. He knew though that there couldn’t be much they could do this late. They would have to hear from Rosen before they could help Opie. Jax was already advocating for Kyle to lose his fucking patch.

He enters Kaylee’s hospital room to find Alma curled on the chair. There is no convincing his wife to at least sleep at home. She would be back before Kaylee would wake up bright in the morning. Jax walks over to Kaylee where she is sleeping soundly. He watches as her chest goes up and down. He memorized it. He plants a kiss on her forehead. He walks over to Alma. He wants to move her without jostling her too much. He sits beside her on the couch and begins to move her, but she jumps awake.

“Shh, it’s just me.” He soothes.

Alma blinks at him rapidly before her eyes dart over to Kaylee. “She’s still sleeping.” He confirms.

Some tension leaves her shoulders and she moves a bit so he can lay his feet up. She curls on top of him and they tangle their legs together.

“Everything go okay?” She asks sleepily.

“We can talk in the morning.”

Alma’s eyes snap back open and she sits up. “What happened?”

His body sags in the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut before they connect with Alma. “Opie got arrested.”

Alma remembers Gemma telling her that the club goes through cycles. It will be extremely calm – downright boring – then things take off rapidly and they can’t catch a break. Alma never had one of these experiences with Jax. She has been lucky her husband has been able to keep his nose clean for the most part. When he got arrested for Gun Running, he had been lucky to only get probation and house arrest for his first official arrest that got his mug shot on the infamous wall. Sure when he was a teen, Jax spent the night in the slammer for public intoxication and public disturbance with Tara. She had been livid for Jax for even getting caught as she had just found out she was pregnant with Kaylee.

She knows that her situation could be worse. Jax could have done years. Jax could’ve been in Otto’s position, or now Opie’s.

Alma winces as Ellie lets out another high piercing scream. Donna is clearly frazzled about Opie’s arrest.

“Donna, let me hold her. You need a break.”

“No, I can do this myself.” Donna insists as she rocks her infant daughter. She had been surprised Donna even let her through the door. Since Opie’s arrest two days ago, Donna had begun to pull away. There was hard evidence against Opie and they all knew he wasn’t going to walk away with a slap on the rest.

“Don –“

“I don’t need your pity.” Donna snaps. Blue eyes pin her down. Alma isn’t used to this side of Donna. She’s not distraught about Opie being gone. She is fucking angry. Pity isn’t what she has for Donna though. It would be the last thing she would show her friend.

“I’m just trying to help.”

A bitter laugh escapes Donna’s throat. “Help? Can you tell me exactly why my husband was in San Leandro committing arson?”

Alma purses her lips. She finds Kenny staring at them with wide eyes. She looks away from him as she can’t imagine being in Donna’s situation. She doesn’t know how she could even explain to her children why Jax couldn’t come home.

“Donna –“

“Tell me the truth.” Donna begs.

Alma’s nails dig into her palm. She can’t tell Donna why. There are rules to this. It was Opie’s choice not to tell Donna anything. She has to respect that. She can’t undermine a patch even if it’s her job as an old lady to support another one. Donna deserves the truth, but she knows the truth isn’t really going to bring her any peace. It would just give her more ammunition to blame the club.

“It’s not my place,” Alma tells her.

Donna scoffs. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” Alma replies. “It’s just that Opie should be the one to tell you this.”

“Why? Because I’m his old lady?” Donna seethes.

“Because it should come from him.”

“You should go.”

Alma feels as if she has been slapped. “Don –“

“I want you to leave.”

Alma seals her mouth shut. It’s best to respect Donna’s wishes and she doesn’t want to make things worse. She grabs her purse and heads to the door when Donna relays her last parting words.

“Tell the club I don’t need their charity.”

Alma arrives at Kaylee's hospital room to find Gemma reading a book to her granddaughter. There are smiles on both of their faces as Gemma changes her voice for each different character. After her visit to Donna, this is a very welcomed sight to see.

Alma smiles as she walks over to the couch and sits. She listens to Gemma finish the story while Kaylee’s eyes become heavy.

The stress and meds have Kaylee more tired than usual. Alma closes her own eyes as she lets her body sag against the couch. The past few days have taken a serious toll on her body. She might need a nap of her own.

“Come take a walk with me.”

Alma’s eyes snap open as Gemma peers down on her. Alma doesn’t really want to leave. She doesn’t want Kaylee to wake up alone in this hospital room. Gemma also isn’t really asking though. Alma moves up from the couch and follows Gemma out to the hall. She thinks they are going to go to the chapel. Despite Gemma never stepping foot in a church since her teen years, she knows Gemma is still a preacher’s daughter at heart. Gemma still prays and looks for guidance.

Instead Gemma takes them outside to a bench. The biker matriarch digs through her enormous leather bag and plucks a cigarette. She’s surprised it isn’t one of her medicinal cigarettes. Alma joins her at the bench silent. Gemma takes a few puffs as they watch the traffic.

“I take it Donna isn’t too happy.” Gemma surmises as she turns to look at her through her sunglasses.

“It’s a shitty situation.”

Gemma hums. “It could be worse.”

Alma knows Opie could be dead. She thinks Donna knows that too. Even then, Gemma has lived through worse with the club. She had lost both of her husbands to significant amounts of prison time. Alma had lost her own father to prison.

Alma has already lost her father and Gemma lost a husband. They know that prison is tame compared to the alternative.

“She should at least know the truth.”

Gemma flicks her cigarette. The ashes smear against the pavement. “That isn’t our place.”

Alma folds her arms around herself. “Is it bad…is it wrong that when I was there all I could think about how lucky I am that Jax didn’t get locked up.”

“No, sweetheart.” Gemma comforts. “But don’t take for granted that it could’ve been.”

Kaylee is discharged from the hospital late in the night. Jax is carrying her to her room to put her right to bed. Nathan follows his father. Alma walks into the kitchen with Kaylee's medical information. She fills a glass of water up and drinks it in a few seconds. She fills it again and downs it again. She places the cup in the sink and opens the folder. She first reads the general summary of Kaylee’s stay along with the new updated meds. She works to memorize the side effects.

But the paper she gives her full attention to is the medical bill. Kaylee will always have medical problems, which translate to bills. Sure, Jax makes more than most, but the money isn’t exactly clean and it is a process to make it something they can really use. Insurance only covers so much.

Most importantly this is a single income home. Jax works. Jax makes the money. He provides financial stability.

Jax walks back into the kitchen and stands behind her. He places his chin on her shoulder and gets a good look at what she is looking at. His arm reaches out and moves the papers. “Don’t worry about that.”

Alma turns. She looks up at her husband. She can see the stress and worry in his eyes not only from Kaylee, but the situation with Opie. They still haven’t really talked about what exactly went down.

“I could be in Donna’s position right now.” She tells him. Unlike Donna, she has no job. She wouldn’t be able to support her children. She wouldn’t know what to do. “I mean…do you even know how long Opie’s sentence is going to be?”

Jax cups her cheek. “Don’t worry about that.”

He silences her response with a kiss. She knows he needs a distraction. She lets herself become one.

5 years.

Opie was sentenced to 5 years in Chino. A six hour drive away. The judge showed no mercy on the husband and father to two small children. Alma was sure that this had been a small consolation to the government as they couldn’t connect the club to any of the charges they had tried to pin to the club for years.

But 5 years minimum, that was the plea deal. Opie wouldn’t be able to get out sooner unless there was some type of miracle. As the sentence had left the judge’s lips, she heard Clay and Jax already muttering that they needed to secure protection fast for Opie quickly.

Alma felt stupid she didn’t think far ahead that he would even need protection. Alma’s worries had been solely focused on Donna.

Despite Donna’s anger, the small brunette didn’t turn away from her support today. She had already seen how her parents were whispering in her ear. The words divorce seemed to be a favorite with her parents. Thankfully, Mary can't hide her disdain to herself about Opie’s choices. Mary may have been an absent – distant mother, but she was making it up through being a grandparent.

Alma closes the door to Donna’s room. Donna had regretfully accepted a valium to calm down and had dozed off. Alma had promised her that she would stay until tomorrow with Mary to keep an eye on the kids. Ellie being a baby doesn’t understand what is going on. Worse is the little girl won’t really know her father outside of prison visits. Kenny knows what is going on, but he doesn’t understand. Alma knows that it won’t hit the little boy until the first visit in Chino. She worries though that those visits will be far and in between. Mary had let it slip Donna had already talked to her about watching the kids more so she could pick up over time.

Alma checks on the kids, who are blissfully sleeping despite everything. She walks into the living room to find Mary folding clothes. Mary seems awfully comfortable and at home in the house.

“She sleeping?” Mary inquires.

“Yeah,” Alma replies as she stands unsure. She bends her fingers. The house is already clean. There’s nothing to really do.

“Sit down. I don’t bite.”

Alma looks at her with wide eyes, but does sit on the couch opposite from her. Even when Mary was around, Alma never was close to her like she was to Gemma or Luann. She always remembers Mary being bitter. At the time, she was too young to really understand why.

Though now, she knows Piney’s infidelities weren’t even close to a secret. Being married to a patch now, she knows it’s not easy. She knows some might say it’s weak to walk away, but she admires those you have the strength to. Alma thinks it would be easier to stay. She had been 14 when Mary had finally got her divorce after years of estrangement.

It seemed Mary didn’t look back until the birth of Kenny 6 years ago.

Mary’s hazel’s eyes scrutinize her. “You look like your mother.”

“Uhh…thanks.”

“It broke her heart when you got pregnant by Jax, no less.” Mary adds. “You were only a child. He knew better.”

Alma resists the urge to roll her eyes. She already knows her mother’s feelings about the father of her children and her relationship with him.

“Your mother and I speak from experience. Don’t dismiss our knowledge.” Mary adds. “Do you see what Donna is going through? It could’ve been you.”

“You think I don’t know that.” Alma protests.

“Just because you have children with Jax doesn’t mean you have to be with him.” Mary elaborates. “This life is just pain and suffering. Look at Donna, Luann, your mother, and hell even Gemma.”

“You only talk about this when times are bad.” Alma refutes weakly. Everyone is ready to hurdle the greatest insults when times are regrettably bloody. Yet, there is only silence when the bank account becomes heavy. When there are riches to indulge in.

Mary shakes her head. “I wanted Opie out of this, but he went running back to his father. This club will always come first to all of them. As a mother, do you think I wanted this for my son? Do you want this for your own son?”

Alma feels a ball forming in her throat. Of course she wants more for her son – children. But as a mother she can only do so much without stifling or hindering their child from being their own person. “All I know is that whatever choice my son makes I wouldn’t abandon him. I would be there to support him and guide him even when he is wrong.”

The clubhouse is quiet. They had already known what Opie’s sentence was going to be. He had taken a plea bargain. There wasn’t going to be any surprising developments. No judge was going to grant leniency. Opie was doomed from the moment he got arrested.

But there is someone Jax can lay the blame on. There is someone who should be in jail right now and not his best friend. The club hadn’t decided to make any decisions yet. They wanted to be focused on Opie. Give their full attention to his best friend and how they were going to provide protection for him in prison. How they were going to support Donna for these next five years. Yet, for Jax it took everything in his power to not kill Kyle from where he stood. The vote on what to do with Kyle wasn’t going to be until Sunday night. It was only Tuesday.

Jax takes another swing from his sweating beer bottle. He knows Alma is going to stay the night over at Donna’s and his kids are with his mom. He thinks after a few more drinks he might just make the journey over to Opie’s. He knows if the positions were reversed that Opie would be with Alma and his kids. He takes another drink of his beer and finishes it. The Prospect takes it and quickly replaces it with another one.

Jax holds the bottle as he turns around. The depressed mood doesn’t stop a party. It’s not the loud ones they are used to entertaining. But the booze, weed, and scantily clad women still roam around the room.

Nothing like losing a brother, thankfully to just prison, to make them appreciate their freedom and the overabundance of pussy.

Jax ignores the eyes wandering over his melancholy frame. Despite Alma’s constant presence and the signs of a happy and satisfying marriage, women still try to tempt him to stray into their bed. He thinks the only activity he might participate in is the ring. Since Happy came into town, he knows that the nomad won’t hold his punches either. The only thing he would have to worry about is Alma’s fretting and narrowed eyes as she scolds him about what in the hell he would explain to their kids about his owies.

Maybe he should just leave. After everything with Opie and Kaylee, he needs to be with his wife and his kids. It’s not too late and he still can stop by his mom’s before heading to be with Alma.

He swallows the rest of his beer and ignores the slight brain freeze he gets. He moves from the bar.

“You headin’ home, Jackie Boy?’ Chibs asks as he joins him on the way to the door.

“Yeah, I’m going to check on the kids then to Alma.”

Chibs grips his shoulders. “We’ll get through this, ya hear me.”

“I know.” Jax tells him with a small smile. He just needs to be strong for Ope’s family and for Opie.

Chibs smiles as they exit the clubhouse. The sun is low and in 20 minutes the streetlights will kick on. His kids are probably going to get ready for a movie and popcorn.

“Jax?”

Chibs smile falls and Jax’s body goes still. The few who lingered outside go deathly quiet as they look back and forth between Jax and the owner of the voice.

Jax makes a fist as for the first time in weeks he has looked at Kyle. He took it upon himself to bar Kyle from meetings and the clubhouse until Opie’s sentence. But now…Jax sees red.

One second Jax is standing next to Chibs and the next he has gripped Kyle by his short as he slams him onto the table.

He doesn’t register the table collapsing under their weight. How the spilt beer is creating a puddle around them.

Jax and Kyle are similar in weight and height. However, Jax is leaner while Kyle has an extra couple pounds with his bulk. They all used to work out together. Him, Kyle, and Opie spent hours in the gym together, so Jax is familiar with Kyle’s weak spots. Jax has the advantage of surprise and his fucking rage as he straddles Kyle and his hands latch onto the man’s neck and restrict his air ways.

Kyle doesn’t go for punches as he tries to pry his hands away from his neck. Jax is partially aware of the silence.

Though he feels hands on him when he notices Kyle is turning a dangerous shade of blue.

“Jackie Boy,” Chibs shouts as he manages to hook his arms underneath his shoulders. Chibs manages to loosen his hold and pulls him away for a few precious seconds.

But Chibs can’t combat the fire inside of him. Jax shakes himself loose from his hold. Kyle only has time to worry about replenishing his oxygen when Jax strikes again.

The first punch, Jax connects with Kyle’s temple.

The second punch, Jax feels his knuckles take the brunt of hitting him in the Jax.

The third punch busts Kyle’s nose.

The fourth punch has blood coating Kyle’s left eye like mascara and eyeshadow.

The fifth punch, Kyle accepts defeat.

The sixth punch, Kyle spits out blood as Chibs and Tig manage to pull Jax off him.

“It’s done!” Chibs shouts in his face.

Jax resists the urge to spit on Kyle’s prone form as he walks away to his bike.

The first month seems to be the easiest Alma thinks. The wound is too fresh to really notice what Opie’s absence feels like. Alma never really realized how much Opie was so integrated into her life. She forgot how much Opie would stop by to visit with or without Donna and the kids. Even though he had kids of his own, he played the role of doting Uncle to a T. Better yet, he was someone she could lean on when Jax would get on her nerves.

There were no more Sundays of him and Jax rotating spending the day together in one of their garages restoring a bike to sell or keep for their own sons. It’s hard to let go of him being a phone call away. The reassurance of him there is something he can’t rely on.

It’s the second month that Alma realizes she needs to find a way to fill the hole of his absence.

She doesn’t ask what happened to Kyle. She figured it out when Jax came home with bloody hands. April, Kyle’s wife of 3 years, divorced him under the guise of infidelity, but staying in Charming with the kids. She wasn’t blind to his missing picture on their mugshot wall of fame.

She tries to help Donna as much as she can or the woman will allow, but she can only try so much before she becomes angry herself. She doesn’t know how to explain to Donna that Opie’s patch has nothing to do with the help she is offering. Her wanting to help Donna has nothing to do with her obligations of being an Old Lady. She finds it best for now to let Donna simmer. She hopes maybe the fire will turn to ash at some point. Alma will still be there no matter what.

Besides, she has Jax to focus on too. She thinks he is handling it better than she anticipated, or the fact as a patch is a consequence of the life they chose. He still has his days where he will ride by himself in the glowing twilight, or in the hazy dawn of the morning.

By somehow the days glide by and it is a sticky summer day for the annual “Fun Town” festival. On top of that, her mother is in town. Her mother’s visits are not really welcomed by anyone outside of her kids. They are still young enough to not really notice the tension she brings to Jax and Gemma.

“Is Donna coming to Fun Town?” Ann asks her. Jax had taken Nathan to get his haircut before heading to the festival. Kaylee decided to tag along so she wouldn’t feel left out.

“No, most weekends she heads to her parents.”

“Such a shame,” Ann adds with a sigh. “Just to think that could’ve been you.”

Alma doesn’t reply. She begins switching her purse to a smaller one, but big enough to carry emergency items that are needed for small children.

“I can say that I didn’t think this would’ve lasted as long as it did, or maybe you are better with the out of sight out of mind.”

Alma’s spine stiffens. She knows her mom is talking about the run policy. Technically, Jax could do whatever he wanted. The boys would see no wrong as long as he isn’t on their home turf. She had no cause to complain or cause strife.

She also isn’t blind to her husband’s look or life choices before he knocked her up. Since he hit puberty Jax always had a different girl on his arm. Even when Tara had been his first serious girlfriend it didn’t stop his wandering eyes. She can recall the many times he had use that insecurity to ruffle Tara’s feathers on one of their numerous breaks.

Worse, she wasn’t even anything to Jax when they slept together that one time that got her pregnant. When she really thinks about it, Jax's sudden desire to sleep with her had to be him simply marking his territory. She had been dating Josh Collins. Her first real boyfriend, one she suspected she loved. He had been pressuring her a bit to take that final plunge. She was rightfully nervous. Being raised in the club, a reputation had been bestowed on her.

They had a terrible fight at a party. She had called Jax with tears running down her face. Of course, Jax and Josh got into a fight that only happened when Josh had accused her of already sleeping with Jax.

Jax had taken her home. He offered to stay. Her mom was gone for the weekend. Jax claimed he didn’t want to be at the clubhouse. He had been more subdue, or sad really. Tara had finally decided she was going to college far away from Charming.

It was natural to find comfort in Jax’s arms as she told him everything. How she was going to sleep with Josh for the very first time. Jax was sort of her best friend like Opie. They were her protectors. Her everything at that point.

But when Jax kissed her, he simply became more.

When it was over she felt guilty and embarrassed. She told Jax that it could never happen again. After all, technically he was with Tara still. She could never be that girl. She was only barely 16 and him being on the cusp of 18, he has a newbie patch. What she would want wouldn’t fit in what he could give her.

She pushed him away. Her and Josh broke up especially after she learned that Amanda Green had tended to his wounds.

Four months later, she was staring at jeans that couldn’t fit any more and denial burning her throat as she released her guilt in porcelain.

And sure there were bumps in the road with her relationship with Jax. She was young. She still is.

She remembers the many arguments her parents had over the other women. It wasn’t until after the birth of Nathan when she came back from her six week checkup that she set the terms with Jax. She couldn’t share him. Just because they had a son didn’t mean they needed to be together. She didn’t care about him having to soothe the scandal of him messing with a first 9’s daughter. The only daughter that was a “legacy”.

For six years she has trusted Jax, she isn’t going to let her mind unravel that now. She and Jax aren’t her parents. She’s not her mother.

“Mom, can we please not do this? Can you at least try to be civil to Jax?” Alma implores.

“How can I be civil towards him? He took advantage of you. You were 16! He knew better!”

“Mom, I could’ve said no, but I didn’t.” Alma says tired of this argument. She feels her mom brings up the same facts every time. “Besides, there is nothing in the world that would make me take back Nathan and Kaylee.”

The mention of Nathan and Kaylee cracks her mom’s righteous façade a little. “I love my grandbabies, I do, Al, but can’t you see things from my perspective? It hurts me to know you’re stuck here in this town. I worry that one day I might get a phone call about Jax going to jail or being killed.” Her mom’s breath catches in her throat. She wishes her mom could simply just ask her about the weather or hell what laundry detergent she uses. She doesn’t really want to dismiss her mother’s words. She was an old lady and it obviously changed her.

The front door opens and Nathan and Kaylee look like blurs as they run into the kitchen. Alma holds them tight as she presses kisses to their heads. Her mother watches with a sad smile.

Thankfully her mom doesn't spend her time in Charming at one of the fancy hotel franchises the Hale’s own. The Ramada is too low class for her.

Alma is fresh from the shower and has just wrapped her hair in a microfiber towel when Jax approaches from behind.

He holds her close and sways a bit. She closes her eyes as she leans back and enjoys this simple moment. She runs her fingers over the tattoo memorial of his father and of their son’s name.

“I think today went well all things considered.” She opens her eyes to find Jax nods his head. She knows that he doesn’t really agree. She turns around and folds her fingers behind his neck. “What?”

His hands find her hips as he nudges her back into the countertop and as if she weighs nothing, he places her on top. He begins to rub circles into her thighs. “You know I don’t like your mother.”

“And…”

Jax’s blue eyes burn into her whiskey ones. “I just feel like she only criticizes you. She always has something to complain about.”

“If she didn’t she wouldn’t be my mother.”

“Al…” Her husband whines.

“Jax…” She mocks.

“I’m being serious.” Jax replies as he makes his home between her thighs. She splits her legs to accommodate him as the fabric of her black short cotton robe bunches at her thighs.

“I don’t know what to say Jax.” After all, her mother saves her grievances just for her. Ann knows better than to badmouth Jax in front of the kids. Her hands find purchase in his blonde hair. She presses a kiss to his check and nose. She manages to get a smile before she meets his lips. He is at first reluctant, but as she presses her body into his and her legs lock around him, he sighs against her lips. She immediately deepens the kiss as her tongue demands entrance into his mouth.

Jax groans and she smiles as he melts into her kiss. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips.

She loves him no matter what her mother says. She loves him as the father of her children. She loves him as her husband. She loves him as the man that doesn’t complain when she needs him to paint her toenails because she is too lazy to do it. She loves him not despite his flaws but because of them.

Jax throws an extra pair of his jeans in his bag as he watches Alma pout from the bed. The run was impromptu as ATF had made a temporary home in Charming. It had Hale’s stink all over it. Hale seemed to have a little heart as he at least waited for the dust to settle on Opie’s arrest before making his move. It seemed despite the four months since the warehouse explosion it was enough evidence for the ATF to grapple onto.

Now they need to find somewhere to store their guns after the vomit inducing storage crate they were forced to do after an impromptu search. Now they were heading into Nevada to visit Uncle Jury. Usually Alma doesn’t linger or pout this much, but with her mother’s recent visit she seems to plant non-existent troubles that he needs to weed through.

He zips his bag and he plants both hands on the side of Alma’s face. She frowns and he laughs as her nose scrunches up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why do you have to go?” Alma presses.

“Because Uncle Jury likes me better.”

“Or he likes your money.”

Jax’s lips tug up. “Maybe.”

Alma punches him in the stomach and Jax manages to pull her tight against him. “I’m just…it’s…Nevada is Mayan territory, Jax.”

Jax feels guilty that he immediately thought Alma was worried about the brothel Uncle Jury called him that would be open to Jax. Alma never has hassled him on croweaters and the run policy since their one and only conversation after Nathan was born. She trusted him and he wasn’t stupid. He was more than satisfied with what he had at home.

“I’ll be careful.” He promises. “It’s just me and Bobby. Low profile.”

“You can’t be low profile with that kutte and bike, Jackson.” Alma remarks bitterly.

“Hey…” Jax says as he looks into her dark eyes. Alma may be moody sometimes before runs, but she usually isn’t like this. He knows she isn’t on her period as despite 6 years of marriage she isn’t comfortable with period sex. So it’s always at least a week each month they go without sex. “Something else bothering you?”

Alma pulls back from him and she falls back onto the bed. She spreads out and sighs. “Sorry.”

Jax eyes his wife’s form. She covers her eyes with her forearm, but she doesn’t elaborate. He peeks at the skin that has been exposed from her sudden movements. He smiles as he bends down and blows a raspberry against her stomach.

Alma jerks and he immediately locks her down and begins blowing more. “Jax, stop!” Alma yelps between laughter.

It isn’t long before their kids become curious as they jump on the bed. He is easily outnumbered as they work to save their mom. It isn’t long before small hands pull him down to the bed. He lies on the bed, his cheeks hurt from the laugher and smiles. As he looks at his family, their eyes sparkling, he wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

With Jax gone, Alma is left alone with the kids. Being a weekday, both of them have school. It leaves Alma with plenty of time for herself. Despite many offers to watch Ellie for Donna free of charge, Donna only takes advantage on Thursday and Friday. Being Monday, Alma finds herself with nothing to do. She feels guilty for abandoning her job search, but with everything happening to Opie it seemed that would have been the last thing anyone needed. With a clean house and no kids, Alma finds herself driving the familiar route to the clubhouse.

It’s weird to think that this structure out of brick and wood has such a significant importance to her life.

Maybe Gemma needs help, or wants to go to lunch.

She pulls into a parking spot. The lot is busy and loud from the machines. She waves to the workers. Tig whistles at her. She flips him off. She finds Gemma in the office with a stack of paperwork. Her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Alma smiles as she sits on the couch. “Hey.”

“Bored?” Gemma questions.

Alma shrugs her shoulders.

Gemma chuckles. She pulls the glasses off her face. “Missing Jax?” She surmises and looks at the clock. “He isn’t around for you to give him his afternoon snack.”

Alma wrinkles her nose. “Gross. I came to see if you wanted lunch or help.”

“I could always use an extra pair of hands, or the company.” Gemma replies. “But today isn’t all that bad, but thanks for the offer. We can leave for lunch though in about 30.”

“Anytime,” Alma replies. “So have you met this ATF agent?”

Gemma shakes her head. “No, but I imagine she is going to start sniffing pretty soon. You and I will be the next target.”

“Lovely,” Alma drawls.

“I’m more worried about Donna.”

“Why?”

“You see how much she misses Opie. Probably would do anything to get him back.”

Alma doesn’t know whether to be offended for her friend or not. She knows that Donna would never do that. No matter the desperation, anger, or sorrow. “She wouldn’t…”

“This Agent is going to push and pull at her. The smallest of things could take these boys down. Opie was so worried about keeping her in this bullet it might backfire. It will backfire.”

“We shouldn’t…we shouldn’t write her off and think about her like that. If she wanted to do that…she would’ve when the charges were first coming down hard.” Alma says in defense of her friend.

Gemma doesn’t say anything. Alma knows Gemma is cynical of most things.

“You could try to be…nicer.” Alma hedges.

“Nice?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Hmm, maybe she shouldn’t stick her nose up then. She knew who Opie was. Knew where his loyalties lie.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t born in this Gemma. You can’t deny that the first time John got locked up that he was angry and hurt.”

Gemma softens at the mention of John. Though the look is immediately washed away by her standard hardened exterior. “Still you don’t turn your back on family.” Gemma doesn’t add like Mary did and Ann did. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Precious, Bobby’s ex-wife was on that list as well.

“Just give her time.”

“That’s like watering a dead flower,” Gemma answers before answering the garage’s business line.

Jax feels guilty that it took six months before he could visit his friend in Chino. One, he didn’t want to take away any visits from Donna. He would have gone on more trips if she was refusing to allow them to follow her. She would make the trip early in the morning to make it there by 11 am. She spent the whole duration of Opie’s visiting hours for the trip she would only take once a month. Her only day off during her workweek was Sunday as she was working overtime on Saturdays. He wasn’t sure how Donna was doing it.

But Jax kept up with his friend through phone calls and letters. After making sure Donna didn’t mind if he had this Sunday, he booked the visit after the long wait of his paperwork to be approved. He knows he plans on making a visit with his kids and Alma. He just knows that the judge had been particularly petty to sentence Opie six hours away.

Despite Rosen’s pleas, Opie has been denied transfer to Stockton. Rosen advised it would be smart to exhaust, but wait a year into his sentence to show he is a model inmate.

Jax enters the cold and stale visiting room. He scans the lot and finds his friend already sitting. A wide smile is on his face. Jax rushes over and immediately braces his friend tightly. He is taken back by the weight his friend has already lost, but he embraces his friend tightly.

“I miss ya, bro.” Jax tells him.

“Me too. Thanks for the pictures of the kids and Alma. Feels more like home.”

They both take a seat in the hard chairs. “You need anything? Money?”

“Your mom already has me covered,” Opie says with a chuckle. Jax can only imagine the smoke Opie is accumulating from poker games, or better yet the small commissary he is probably building.

“How’s art class?” Jax asks cryptically. It was their code for the Nords. It was a hard bargain brokering the deal with the wannabe Nazi’s as it came to a hard line that they wouldn’t mess with the Nords as long as they didn’t sell in Charming.

“It’s been easy. Been working on the landscape.” Opie is working on feeling them out. “The fence needs some work, but I’m happy I don’t need to paint a tool shed.” Opie hasn’t been asked to do anything to compromise his sentence. He is just the appearance of muscle.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually, I might need you to talk to Rosen for me.”

Jax’s brows furrow. “For what?”

Opie scratches his black beanie. “Donna’s not happy. I don’t want to keep her tied down.”

Jax feels his mouth go dry. “Wait…you’re thinking about a divorce?”

“5 years is a long time.”

“So?”

Opie buries his face in his hands. “Can we ignore who we are for a second and look at the reality. I’m stuck here for five years minimum, that is if I can get on parole. It’s not right for me to expect her to wait.”

“Ope, people have gone through longer sentences. Christ, it’s not like you’re in here for murder or some shit.”

“But we’re not other people.” Opie replies. “I can already see the toll this is taking on her. This isn’t even about me and my feelings. This is about Donna.”

“Donna just wants you to keep your head down and come home.” Jax interjects.

“Did she actually say that?” Opie implores.

A heavy feeling settles in Jax’s guys as he imagines the type of stilted visits Opie has been enjoying for the past six months. “Ope…she’s just adjusting…”

Opie snorts. “I don’t want her to become bitter and angry because of me. I don’t want her to stay when she is unhappy. What happens when I come home?” Opie looks up at him with wide hazel eyes. “Whatever…trust…we had is broken. She’ll always been suspicious. I’ll turn her into someone she’s not.”

“Christ, Ope, it’s only been six months. See where you are a year from now. If Al –“

“Don’t tell, Alma, please just keep this between us.” Opie begs.

Jax would’ve laughed if his best friend wasn’t deadly serious. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I can already hear her screaming in my head. She would probably scalp me over the phone.” Opie jokes.

Jax chuckles. “Yeah and she would take it out on me.”

“Thank her for me. I know she is probably the only person in Donna’s corner.”

“You just can’t think negative bro. Sure Donna’s pissed, but dwelling on this isn’t going to help you through this. If Donna was really pissed she wouldn’t be making these 6 hour trips. You need to hold on to what’s good. Not let it go.”

The “Taste of Charming” festival is Gemma’s annual PR campaign. Charming has a love hate relationship with the club. They are willing to turn a blind eye to all the shit until it gets bloody. Charming doesn’t complain that it keeps the franchises out of the town. It kept everything local and contained.

Like they weren’t complaining about this year’s good will campaign was going to benefit the school’s music program.

Alma did her part and helped with the flyers, setting up, and she even let her kids used their wide innocent eyes to sell tickets for the many raffles.

However, her main focus is looking after Donna. It took her forever to even agree to come to the annual fundraisers. She knows Donna has slowly become more reclusive since Opie’s prison sentence began. She wants to tell Donna that hiding is only going to make things worse.

The only good thing is the kids are having fun.

Donna is watching the kids play with water guns when Alma joins her with a funnel cake and pop. Donna gives her a small smile as she accepts the food.

They eat in silence. It’s how it is between them now. Neither of them knows how to fill the silence if it doesn’t revolve around the kids. She hates how things are turning out between them.

“Thanks for coming out Donna.” Alma settles on.

The brunette prison widow nods her head. “There’s no point in hiding away.”

“Don –“

“It’s alright. I know how I’ve been. But thank you for being here even with the things I’ve said.”

“I know that you do the same for me.” Alma soothes as she reaches out and grabs her hand.

“But I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Donna begins. “I’ve seen April Hobart around…what happened to Kyle?”

Alma freezes. “He left.”

Donna scrunches her brows. “Left?”

“Yeah. He’s not a member and him and April got a divorced.”

“He just left though?” Donna repeats. “You can do that?”

As Donna’s wide and hopeful eyes look up at her, Alma knows her friend has hope – dangerous false hope. She needs to find a way out of this conversation. Alma goes to open her mouth to explain it is much more complicated than just leaving.

She jumps as hands enclose around her waist and she finds a kiss being planted on her head. Sandalwood, gasoline, leather, and smoke flood her senses.

“Kids know their way around a gun,” Jax jokes, but Donna does not find it funny as her face falls.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Donna mumbles as she makes a quick exit.

Alma turns to her husband and glares at him. “Really, Jax?”

He gives her a blank stare as he straddles the picnic bench and caging her slightly between his thighs. He steals some pieces of her funnel cake. “I saw her staring at April. I could tell where the conversation was going.”

“Don’t you think she should know everything?” She didn’t see the benefit of keeping Donna in the dark. She deserved to know the whole truth.

“What would the truth do? Doesn’t change that Opie still is going to rot in jail for the next five years.” Jax remarks bitterly.

“I would want the truth.” Alma interjects.

“You already have it.”

“But if I didn’t. It’s almost like you’re…” Alma stops herself before she can really say what’s on her mind.

“We’re what?”

Alma backs down. “Nothing. It doesn’t change anything anyways.”

Jax’s blue eyes soften and he pulls her into his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

But it doesn’t stop her from thinking that it could’ve been him too.

Jax is grateful that his one meet for the day was with Piney’s old jarhead buddy. He had a bad feeling about the son. When it comes to selling guns, but Jax had made a hard peace with the fact the bullets of the guns aren’t doling out harmless water.

He didn’t want to think about the moral ramification of his outlaw ways. The kids would still be at school and it left him with a few hours of alone time with his wife. A lecherous smile comes across his face as he thinks about the naughty things he has planned, but stops at the couple of unfamiliar cars parked in his driveway.

He enters the house and he is immediately hit with the scent of nail polish, acetone, and his ears already ring from the high pitched squeals, which he supposes is categorized as laughter.

He walks through to the dining room near the open windows where Alma usually has her mini nail salon set up.

It’s been awhile since Alma had people over to do nails. In fact, she hasn’t mentioned how her job search was going, or if she even was still looking for a job.

He doesn’t feel like dealing with curious eyes. They are both aware of the fact most of the people that went to Alma for her nails were just curious about the state of her marriage to Jax.

Jax walks into the kitchen and goes into the fridge where the laughter seems to stop at his arrival. He turns and leans against the counter and is relieved to find that Alma is in the process of cleaning up as the woman’s hand is under some fancy drying contraption.

Eying the beach blonde stringy hair and the orange tan, he recognizes the girl as Alicia Rogan, who is drying her nails and the companion is Diane Lawrence. Both girls were on the cheerleading team in high school. Alicia had tried to give him a blow job on one of his numerous breaks with Tara in high school. She does possess a decent rack and he had heard stories about her certain skill set from rumors in school. Though he also heard about her having some problems he wasn’t looking to contract.

Diana had always turned her nose up at him.

“Well, I’ll let you two be. I can only imagine how exhausting two kids can be.” Alicia says sweetly as she passes Alma some money. “I’ll see you in two weeks. It was nice seeing you, Jax.”

Jax gives them both a tight smile as they find their own way out of the house. Jax takes a swing of his beer as he watches Alma clean up. She is wearing short jean shorts, a white wife beater, along with one of his flannels. Her brown hair is up in a very sloppy bun.

“So should I expect more strangers in the house?”

Alma rolls her eyes. “They honestly just showed up. Must be bored with their crop of gossip.”

“So we are just so entertaining?”

“You’re something to look at.” Alma retorts as she enters the kitchen and then washes her hands.

“Well this merchandise is off the market.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

Jax smiles. “So how is the job search going?”

“I think there have been more pressing matters to deal with.”

“Maybe, but you’re already doing so much, I don’t want you to forget about yourself, babe.” Jax explains as he comes up behind her.

“Its just…Donna needs my help. And maybe right now isn’t the right time.”

“If you say so.”

Alma turns around and her fingers trail over his kutte. “So are you done for the day?”

“Just me and you, babe.” Jax informs her as he grips the back of her thighs and throws her over his shoulder as he races to their bedroom.

The kids had an in-service day. Jax was working at the garage. The kids were outside running in the backyard. Jax had recently bought them a trampoline and as it was new they were spending every second outside jumping on it.

Alma is inside making them a simple lunch of a sandwich, chips, and apples and peanut butter. She has just grabbed the some juice boxes when a knock comes from the door. Opening it she finds a tall scrawny blonde in a pantsuit and blonde hair staring at her with an amused smile.

“Can I help you?” Alma greets. She has a feeling she knows who this woman is.

“Mrs. Teller, I’m Agent Stahl, A.T.F.” The woman shows her badge. “May I come in?”

“You got a warrant?”

Stahl raises an eyebrow. “I just have a few questions. I’m not here for anything more.”

Alma clenches her jaw, but opens the door wider. She leads the agent to the small kitchen table. “Wait, here.” She orders.

Alma goes to the sliding door and calls for her kids that its time for lunch. She directs them to the living room and allows them to eat while watching TV, something she doesn’t normally do. It’s enough to distract them though that they don’t pay attention to the fed lingering in the kitchen.

“Cute kids.” Stahl comments. “I think your son thinks like your father.”

Alma scowls. “You said you had some questions.”

“Do you know any illegal activity that your husband, Jax Teller, or the Sons of Anarchy are involved in?”

“No.”

“What about your husband’s whereabouts yesterday morning?”

“He was here, at the garage, and came back. There were no kids home so it was just us.”

“Well that was easy.” Stahl says as she hikes her purse up her shoulder.

“What are you even looking for?”

“You know I seen your friend Donna. I can tell Opie Winston’s prison sentence is taking a very hard toll. You have two beautiful children, you’re young. I hope your children don’t know what it's like to lose a father from prison or a bullet. I know you know how that feels.“

“I think you should go. I already answered your questions.”

“Right. I imagine we’ll be seeing each other again.”

Alma follows Stahl all the way to do the door. She waits until the woman’s government issued car is down the block before she goes to her computer and loads up the Charming Gazette. The top story of the day is of a prison van escort being ambushed by men with guns. A cop was killed in the attack.

Jax stubs his cigarette in the ashtray as he sits next to Clay in the Pub. It’s the local Irish spot where they meet their contact from the IRA. Jax thinks it’s a little on the nose, but it’s only a meet. They don’t exchange anything outside of words and some cash. There isn’t anything to connect what the money could be exchanged for.

“You alright, son?”

Jax’s blue eyes flicker over to Clay’s. “He’s late.”

Clay nods his head. Jax can see the tension in his stepfather’s shoulders. It seems hit after hit keeps coming from the warehouse explosion, Opie’s prison sentence, and the prison transport van being attacked. Thankfully, there was nothing to connect them to being the providers of the gun. It was only hearsay that had the Feds flashing their badges all over town. He was peeved to find out that Stahl had the nerve to go to his home when the kids were there. He knows that was a calculated move.

Still, the high profile of the case had made it hard for them to sell the remaining guns. Despite Piney’s vocal protests because of military bonds they had no choice but to get rid of the right wing militia.

Clay’s eyes flicker to the door where Tig is at the bar keeping watch. Tig seems uneasy too. The door swings open and a blading skinny man walks through. The bartender nods at him and motions towards him and Clay.

Jax sits up straighter as the man comes to their table. Tig immediately stops him. The bartender intervenes, seemingly vouching for the man. Tig eyes them skeptically. He makes the man wait as Tig comes over.

“Cameron Hayes, Michael’s cousin. With the cause. Doesn’t come stateside much.” Tig informs them.

Clay nods and Cam Hayes walks over. “Where’s McKeevy?” Clay asks before the man can even take a seat.

“He's dead.”

“Jesus.” Jax says. He wonders how come they haven’t heard anything on it. Though maybe this news is something that needs to come in person.

“How?” Clay ponders.

Cam Hayes eyes narrow. “The Oakland park commissioner threatened to bust open... a shipment we got coming in on Monday. Wants to triple his payoff money. Hefner. Greedy prick.” The man snarls. “Been riding roughshod over the ports for years. Michael was pissed. Went off on him for changing the deal. Must have spooked Hefner. He had his port goons jump Michael. They beat him, broke his neck. Left him for dead.”

“Sorry. That's awful shit, man. Condolences.” Jax replies.

“Thank you.” Cam says gratefully.

Clay tilts his head. “Anything we can do to help with this?”

“No. No, it's personal.” Cam answers. “I'll handle Mr. Hefner.” Cam sits up straighter. He turns serious as he begins to discuss their business. “Michael spoke very highly of SAMCRO. Trusted you. Hope to be able to continue the relationship. That's why I'm here. I'll be your new contact.”

Clay grimaces. “I mean no disrespect. I'm sure everything you're saying is the truth-“

Cam nods his head understanding. “No, no. Wish we had a secret handshake or business card.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a photo. It shows Cam along with Mckeevy and other people wielding guns. Jax spots Jimmy O and Keith McGee, the Belfast president. It seems to be enough for Clay.

Tig picks up the black bag from the floor. “That's the package there that we were delivering to McKeevy. Two months, and a month insurance, 200 K."

“Mind if I take a quick count?”

“I got all night, brother.”

“Thank you.” Cam says as he moves to another table.

“Shit,” Clay mutters.

“You think that is why ATF came down too. Hoping to catch Hayes?” Jax wonders.

“Could be. We’re going to have to be really careful.”

Jax fights the urge to snort. They always have to be careful.

Cam comes back to their table with the duffle bag. “ Lovely. This will float the cause, keep SAMCRO and us in business. Glad we could work it out, Clay.”

“Me too, Cameron.” Clay exclaims as they shake hands. “How is, uh, the cause going?”

“Like any good war- slow and steady.” The Irishman tells them.

Clay grabs the untouched shot on the table and they all do the same. “Michael McKeevy. Good soldier, good friend. To a unified Ireland.”

They are unprepared as the glass around them explodes.

Jax sits in the chapel as they grimly go over last night's attack. Luckily no one was killed, but Cameron Hayes had walked away with a bullet to the ass. Someone Chibs was able to remove the slug and stick the man up, but Cameron wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. There was also the fact; Cameron had been mumbling about handling Hefner and the club had agreed to do it. Their payment would be refunded if they could.

Still with Mayans deciding to do such a violent attack only meant they had to go to war. It was going to be Bloody ’92 all over again.

Clay is about to dismiss church after all agrees to summing all the Presidents and Vice Presidents to Charming.

“Before we go, I need to say something.” Piney says gruffly. “If we are going into a war, we need someone better at our President’s side. Let’s face it, I’m getting old and this oxygen tank is slowing me down. I’m stepping down as VP and I’m nominating Jax to take my place.”

Jax is still in a slight stupor from Piney’s announcement. There is a smile on his face, but this is a big change. He walks into his former dorm room. His kids are tucked under the covers sleeping. With the Mayans attacking it meant all of them were in lockdown. He begins to remove his shoes, kutte, and jewelry when the bathroom door opens. Alma is highlighted by the bathroom light in his oversized SAMCRO shirt.

“Hey.” Alma whispers.

“Hey back,” Jax replies. He watches as Alma lingers by the door. “Everything okay?”

“You first.”

Jax steps out of his jeans and walks to his wife. He brings her into a hug. “For now. Tomorrow we’ll really know. It’s going to be busy with all the number ones and twos coming. But Piney nominated me to be Vice President.”

Alma reels back. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jax says with a dopey smile.

Alma wraps her arms around his neck and attacks him with kisses all over his face. “I’m so happy for you Jax.”

“Thanks, babe. So you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Alma purses her lips and she tugs him into the bathroom. She points at the small stick resting on the counter.

“I’m pregnant.”

#soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller x oc #jax teller #sons of anarchy

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