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waywardbeanie · 5 years ago

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A Man of Letters - Chapter Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 3538

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: Violence, assault, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.

A/N: This series has been rattling around in my head for a while. It would never have made it to the light of day if it was not for my beautiful group of friends with whom none of this would be possible! You know who you are and I love you all!

Thank you to my beta @winchest09 without her none of this would be possible. If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

“Weird,” Y/N huffed looking out the front window of her Main Street photography studio, “Photos That Rock”. That same black muscle car has passed by her shop window at least five times today. She feels like she should recognize it, but it is just out of reach. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail she began to straighten up around the studio. Last night was a late night, then tossing and turning all night thinking about Mr. Tall, Dark and Plaid. It was an early morning today with a full schedule of studio time and then she was set to go back to The Zoo for Blues night. “Thank God it’s Friday!” she thought.

Tomorrow she opens at 11:00 and only for a few hours. During the summer, the hours are reduced with people being on vacation or just busy. The last thing they want to do on a Saturday is to come in and have their picture taken. She had editing to do, but she could do that on her laptop at home barefooted, wearing shorts and a T shirt.

Y/N locked the door as she flipped the closed sign around. Walking to the back of the studio she grabbed her garment bag off the hook and proceeded to change clothes. She didn’t have time to go back to her house. Besides, once she went home, she wasn’t leaving. Finding that charming little 2-bedroom bungalow was a blessing.

Thinking back, she remembered driving around quaint little neighborhoods when Y/N saw the “For Sale” sign being put out. She pulled her black Jeep over to the side of the road and jumped out, clad in jean capris, her favorite white sneakers with a black ZZ Top “Tres Hombres” mugshot picture on the front, hair in a ponytail and large sunglasses adorning her face.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, as she approached the elderly woman trying to pound a sign into the hard dirt of the front yard. “May I ask you about the house?”

The old woman peered at her over her glasses. “Ya by yourself?” she almost shouted.

“Yes ma’am.” Y/N smiled.

“Ya like strong coffee?” she questioned again, “it’s the only kind of coffee I make,” she mumbled. Y/N nodded her head agreeably.

“Well, come on then, come in and look at the house. You can have a cup of coffee with me and I’ll tell ya about it.” Y/N followed behind the slowly shuffling woman with slide slippers and a faded blue house dress.

Within 2 hours, Y/N learned that Hazel had lived in this house her entire married life. Her husband Everett built it when he returned from the Pacific after WWII. The house was a little run down she explained because she had a hard time taking care of things after Everett died 18 months ago. Hazel was ready to move into the senior apartments where all her “widow friends” live. By Y/N's second cup of coffee, she and Hazel agreed on a price and that Y/N could have the house in a month. They agreed to meet at the lawyers in town the following Monday. She had a bounce in her step as she returned to her Jeep after hugging Hazel goodbye. Her step stuttered as a somber smile pulled at her mouth. “This was the first good thing she could use her parent’s life insurance for.”

Y/N shook her head to clear her mind of the past. Glancing at the clock she noticed that she needed to be at the bar in 30 minutes and it was 15 minutes away. She quickly stripped off her T-shirt and jeans and shimmied into her black leggings and pulled on her knee high, 5-inch heeled boots. Pulling her grey sleeveless flowing top over her head, tugging it down, it skimmed right at her mid-thigh. Focusing on her reflection, she quickly touched up her makeup and added lipstick. Yanking out the hairband, she returned it to her wrist, finger combing her hair.

“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get today,” she said to herself. Turning around, she grabbed her backpack and keys and ran out the back door to her Jeep, praying she didn’t hit traffic.

The Jeep careened into the parking lot of The Zoo, throwing gravel as “My Kinda Party” by Jason Aldean blaring from the speakers. She made it with 5 minutes to spare. The bar was busy already, so she had to park on the far end of the lot. She grabbed her backpack off the seat and sprinted to the front door just as it swung open.

Stepping inside it was apparent it was going to be a different kind of night. The place was packed just about shoulder to shoulder. People weren’t here to dance, they were here to have a few beers and listen to great Blues music. Y/N snaked along the edge of the crowd to the bar, carefully removed her camera from the bag and handed the backpack to Travis. Surveying the crowd she knew she would get the best pictures by positioning herself on the edge of the stage.

Painstakingly she made her way to the front as the band rambled out. . She motioned to one of the members to confirm she would not be a distraction and he gestured for her to join them while grinning at her. “Make sure you get my good side.”

As they began to jam, the crowd surged forward and Y/N was glad she wasn’t on the floor tonight. She focused on the band and the front of the crowd for their first set, capturing ecstatic faces as the music rose and fell. After a hasty break the band began their second set with “Got My Mojo Working” by Muddy Waters. Y/N steadied herself on the side of the stage and began to scan the bar through her lens, capturing bits and pieces of the enthusiastic and eclectic crowd. The camera halted at 2 men that didn’t belong. They were leaning against the back wall with their arms crossed in front of their chest. They were tall and seem to tower above the crowd. Even this far away they seem pasty and unkempt. Y/N chucked to herself because one has a John Deere hat on and the other a Caterpillar hat, direct competitors. As she studied them, both snapped their heads up simultaneously. The look on their faces was so murderous that her stomach tightened, and she began to quake. Trying to settle herself her camera moved on instantly. As she wrapped up her shoot at the end of the night, she could still not shake the pit in her stomach.

She talked to the band for a few minutes as they were packing up their instruments and the crowd began to clear out. Jumping down off the stage, she went to the bar to gather her things.

“Thanks so much for tonight Y/N,” Travis pronounced handing her the backpack. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I’m good.” Y/N shook her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for the second blues show.”

Smiling, Travis toasted her with the glass he was polishing.

She hefted her backpack over her shoulder and with her head down, she headed outside. En route to her parking spot, she observed a group of men congregating close to her Jeep. Slowing her pace she began eyeing them closely, spotting immediately the 2 men in ball caps that creeped her out earlier. Giving them a wide berth she dug her keys out of her bag, kicking herself the whole time that she didn’t already have them in hand.

As she drew closer, the group began to watch her, making lewd remarks and vulgar gestures. She ran the rest of the way to her Jeep, jumped in, cranking the engine almost simultaneously. Y/N jammed it into reverse, throwing gravel, then ramming it into drive in one fluid motion, putting as much space between her and the group as possible. Her heart was thundering in her chest while her entire body began to quake. Her breaths came in short bursts as she propelled down the road, putting a few miles between her and the bar. Y/N began to talk herself down, trying to remember her yoga breathing as she berated herself for thinking of yoga at a time like this.

Steering closer to her house she began to compose herself. As she pulled into her driveway, she put her Jeep in park resting her head on the steering wheel, breathing slowly, in and out. Yanking her keys out the ignition she threw them into her bag. Taking one last calming breath she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and got out, slamming the door behind her.

She had taken three steps when a vice like grip wrapped around her bicep swinging her around and slamming her against the side of the Jeep, hurling the bag out of her reach and knocking the wind out of her. Y/N was momentarily paralyzed, the disbelief so profound. A large hand gripped the back of her neck, pulled her away from the Jeep and crushed the side of her face into the driver’s side window. He clenched her neck tighter as he pushed her face into the window. Tears are running down her face and she strains to hold in cries of pain and fear. She feels the weight of his chest press into her back, feeling his sticky hot breath on the side of her face.

“Did you think you could run?” he seethed. “Did you think we would not fucking find you?”

“W-W-What are you talking about?” Y/N choked out.

Spinning her around by her arm and tossing her back against the door, Y/N hit it like a ragdoll, sliding down the side of the vehicle as her fear incapacitated her mind and body. Looking up, she recognized her assailant from the bar with the John Deere hat. He gripped her by the throat, dragging her back up the Jeep. Y/N feet dangled off the ground, her right eye already swollen shut blood dripping from the side of her head and lip.

“Bitch, we’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he sneered. Y/N tried to shake her head back and forth.

“NO!” she struggled, “I don’t know you!”

He laughed as she tried to focus her one good eye. An index of faces flipping through her mind like a rolodex. He bent down, his fingers digging into her throat, leveling eye to eye with her.

“Oh, but we know you. You were supposed to be in the cabin with James and Diane. We should have been able to take care of all of you at once.” His mouth twisted, “Instead, we had to chase you ass across half the damn country.”

Uncontrollable tears were rolling down her face, blood pounding in her ears. The stranger straightened, his hand slightly loosening around her neck, feet still inches off the ground. “We usually like to play with our food, but those fuckin’ Winchesters are in town. I’ve messed around enough.”

Y/N could not make sense of anything this lunatic was saying. He knew about her parents’ cabin? He knew she was supposed to be there? Play with their food? Maybe she was blacking out from lack of oxygen. Winchesters?

She could feel herself weakening. She could hear screeching tires and yelling but it was so far away. She was opening her mouth to scream but only a raspy moan escaped. A look of panic crossed the strangers face. He looked at her, his features began to change. Sharp pointed teeth emerging from his gums. Y/N began to blink rapidly, attempting to process what she was seeing. She began to kick her legs in terror. Her brain was telling her what she was seeing was a hallucination, but her body was peaking at the fight or flight mode. The stranger's mouth was agape as a hiss left his throat. She stared at his mouth with what looked like hundreds of teeth made of needles

She opened her bloody lips to attempt to scream for the last time while looking into his eyes. His head completely disappeared, releasing his hold on her neck in which she crumpled into a heap on her driveway, gulping for air. She heard metal clattering on the cement and from her one working eye, saw a large hand grab the stranger’s body and toss it into the grass. In a flash, two strong hands grasped her shoulders and her flight kicked in. Thrashing around and trying to get away but he was holding on tight saying her name over and over, attempting to get through to her oxygen deprived brain. Shaking her shoulders as gently as he could, drawing his face closer to hers

“Y/N, Y/N look at me, just listen to my voice and look at me, look at my face.”

She peered up at him, the adrenalin beginning to dissipate as the tremors convulsed her body . She was trying to focus on what she saw but it was irrational. She felt like she was trying to put a puzzle together but none of the pieces fit. She squinted at his face and moved her lips to speak but nothing came out. She stuck her tongue out trying to moisten her lips wincing as she swallowed. Trying again she croaked, “Hot Flannel Guy?”

Chuckling Dean gathered her to his chest, “That’s right, sweetheart, it’s me, Hot Flannel Guy.” He picked her up, as if she weighed nothing the uninjured side of her face rested against his chest and she could feel the rumble of laughter against her cheek. She closed her uninjured eye and tried to breathe deep. He smelled clean and woodsy with a hint of sweat. “A sexy smell for a hot man,” she thought. She remembered she had caught a hint of that same smell yesterday when they danced.

“Where are we going?” she whispered her head foggy, feeling so tired. Dean started for her front door, Sammy not far behind. “We just need to get you in the house sweetheart”

“We only got three of them, the other two made it to the pickup and took off,” Sammy informed his brother, looking over his shoulder.

“Damn it!” snapped Dean “We can’t fucking leave her here now.”

Sam was juggling the machete, a bag and a first aid kit. “Let’s just get her in the house and then we can make a plan. It’s not like they are coming back tonight.”

Dean looked at Sam then at the front door. “Not to be a dick Sammy, but that door isn’t going to open itself.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He looked at Y/N in Dean’s arms and immediately felt bad. “Right.” He dropped the armload of stuff behind him on the large front porch and opened the screen door. There was a keypad and a doorknob and sighed. “What’s the code?”

Dean carefully jostled Y/N in his arms. “Hey, Y/N?” he asked her softly, “we need to get in the house, what’s the code?”

She had almost forgotten where she was, she hurt all over and could not stop trembling, but she was taking a small comfort in the feel of Dean’s arms around her.

“Let me down,” she croaked, starting to struggle, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just let me down.”

Dean’s arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart, just tell Sam the code, we’ll get you in the house, THEN, I‘ll put you down.” She slumped back against him huffing

“8675309,” she rasped in the best sing song voice she could. Dean threw his head back and laughed as Sam smirked. “Jenny’s number? Your code is Jenny’s number?”

“I couldn’t help it, it’s the only number I could always remember.”

Still chuckling Dean leaned against the house as Sam entered the code. He pushed off, his elbow hitting the doorbell just as the door swung open. Robert Plant’s voice wailed from inside the house.

“Hey, Hey Mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Y/N’s face. “Woah, Zeppelin? Seriously?”

One side of her mouth tilted up. “Nobody wants a boring doorbell.”

Sam shook his head as he gathered the things off the porch, holding the screen door with his foot so Dean could carry Y/N in the house. He was beginning to feel like he was stuck in some kind of kismet thing between those two.

As Dean entered her home, he looked around trying to figure out where to lay Y/N down.

“No way does a Dude live here.”

All the walls were white with dark grey trim. The furniture was white in the living room with grey throw pillows and a turquoise throw on the side of the couch. The floors looked like they were finished in a weathered grey tone and it opened up into the airy white and grey kitchen. Different sized vases filled with fresh daisies and framed black and white photographs were placed throughout the area. With all the white, one would think that it would feel sterile but something about it gave off a cozy, comfortable feeling, like a breath of fresh air.

Sam strode into the kitchen and placed his armful of gear on the kitchen Island. He turned to Dean pointing to the couch.

“Nope.” Dean shook his head and looked at Y/N, “no way Sammy, it’s too clean in here.”

Y/N began to wriggle in his arms. “Lemme down,” she whispered. He had held her in his arms for so long she began to feel embarrassed but Dean tightened his hold around her. “Shhhh,” he said looking around again.

“Dude!” she yelled, shocking all three of them. “PUT. ME. DOWN.” Dean set her on her feet and her legs started to crumple from underneath her. He caught her again and hoisted her back up in his arms.

“Now what?” he ground out.

Sam pulled out one of the grey upholstered bar chairs from the kitchen island, “Put her here.”

He opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Setting them on the island he walked over to the sink, tore some paper towels from the roll and saturated them with water.

Dean deposited her, none too delicately in the chair. Sam made his way back to her, walking around the island to stand next to Dean to face her. Her right eye was swollen shut and the right side of her top and bottom lip were busted covered in drying blood. As she looked up at her savior, they could see the purple handprint developing around her neck. Looking directly into Dean’s steely green eyes, she visibly flinched at the barely contained anger. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she spoke quietly.

“Who are you?”

“Oh yeah, that,” Dean smiled. “I’m Dean and this,” he motioned towards the other man, “is my brother Sam.”

He raised his hand, “Hi.”

Y/N studied both of them. Her good eye ping ponging between them until she finally landed back on Dean expectantly raising her eyebrow with a grimace of pain.

“Winchester.” Both spoke at the same time.

She huffed out a breath. “Of course it is, that creepy dude said he couldn’t play with his food because of the fuckin’ Winchesters. But I think I must have imagined stuff from lack of oxygen or something because after that, it’s all a blur and isn’t rational.”

“Well,” Sam hedged, reaching for the wet paper towels, “why don’t we try to get your face cleaned up and you can maybe take a shower. After that we can explain it all to you.” He reached up to start to blot her battered face.

“Dude, I got this!” Dean hip checked him, knocking him off balance. Sam scowled at him. “Sammy, why don’t...you know…” he motioned with his head toward the front of the house, “handle that other thing we need to do.” Sam looked at him incredulously, sarcasm flowing. “Great, yeah I’ll take care of that right now.” Spinning around he headed out the door. Dean knew he was going to hear about that later but he really didn’t give a damn.

Turning his attention back to Y/N he grabbed the damp paper towels off the island counter and started to dab her face. Wincing she pulled back. “Dean,” she murmured

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he began reaching around lightly, holding the back of her head so she would stop drawing back. “I need you to hold still for me for just a few minutes so I can get you cleaned up.”

She reached up, grasping his hand, meeting his eyes. Her bottom lip began to tremble, tears shimmering. “Thank you,” she breathed, “thank you for saving my life.”

He tenderly touched his forehead to hers. “I’m just glad we made it here on time.”

“Me too,” she choked out.

Chapter 4

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@4fareader @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24

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movedkagen · 4 years ago

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right back at ya, @guroshi !

He’d never been caught before.

Despite his very obvious restriction regarding cursed energy, Toji Zen’in ( ‘Fushiguro’ was a name that would come later ) had never been caught by a person he was pursuing. He moved soundlessly, like a panther in the nocturne jungle, and struck precisely. It was the one reason why despite his lack of ability, calling him weak was a sore mistake. They therefore treated him like he were a curse himself; they loathed him, they were disgusted by him, but they dare not say his name lest he appear in their midst. Toji Zen’in had a tendency to appear like a bad omen. When people caught him, it was only when he wanted them to, and it rarely ever ended well.

It turned out that being the boogeyman paid pretty well; he’d made a living out of that rejection. And maybe, just maybe to a certain extent he felt a sense of vindication whenever he closed in on a sorcerer. Outwardly, thriving off of the disdain was a survival tactic. I’m just not a likable guy, he’d say, usually with a sardonic laugh. But inwardly … sinking his blade into the flesh of someone who he knew thought him worth little more than an animal brought him a slight sick sense of pleasure. The jobs mean nothing to me: truth. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t like fucking up the order of the food chain just by drawing breath. When his very existence served as a shameful thorn in the side of his family, Toji made sure to do so with an expertise that made it so that even ridicule was too dangerous an acknowledgement. If you’re going to be bad, be the best at it. If he was hopeless as a Zen’in, he would therefore be a source of hopelessness to them in turn.

In nearly all other things, Toji was a man who lived aimlessly; fighting, fucking, food, fortune. Those were the only motives that propelled normal men, and for Toji his motives were no different. So, when his phone rang and revealed the voice of his uncle, Toji nearly hung up. They’d provide him no benefit, after all.

“Toji?” The voice echoes again when his initial greeting doesn’t earn a response.

“Ojisan.” His voice is groggy, but the snide way he calls him uncle is still palpable. “If you’re calling me because my old man finally decided to kick the bucket, save your breath. I’ve no interest in his funeral.”

He can hear the way his uncle grimaces on the receiver. “That’s not why I’ve called. We want you to come to the estate.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“We have a job for you ------”

“Not interested.”

“------ and we will pay.”

Toji paused at that. His family was shit, sure, but they were also swimming in cash. Inversely, looking over his shoulder at the woman he’d been sleeping with in exchange for a bed in January, he couldn’t be any less liquid. “...How much are we talking?”

“Name your price and we’ll negotiate.”

It was the right answer; he knew if he went, strong - arming the amount he wanted would be easy. “I’ll be there in an hour. You waste my time, I walk.” Without waiting for a response, he hangs up and pushes up off the bed, disappearing to shower.

He arrives at the estate feeling tense. He’s got bad memories of this place; being born without an ability meant he’d spent most of his early teenage years serving the family, but looking at the other servants, it could have been worse. I could have been born a woman, he thought, watching with morbid horror as a cousin he barely spoke to struggles to soothe fussing children as her husband glances at her with annoyance without daring to lift a finger to help.

The Zen’in estate was like a sepulchre; opulent and pristine from the outside, but filled nothing but rotting stench and decay internally.

He hides his unease well, despite it all. Bile builds in the back of his throat, but in the room appointed to be their meeting place, Toji stands with a bored expression and seems as though nothing bothers him at all. The door slides open, and he smirks when only his uncle walks through. Typical. His father didn’t show.

“So … what did you do for them to dump this meeting on you? They must not like you these days. Have you fallen out of favor, Ojisan?”

His uncle ignores his comments, taking it as an obvious ploy to provoke him. Instead, he simply sits and folds his arms. “You’re a man who always has his ear to the ground. Have you heard the rumors?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“About the Gojo clan.”

The mention of the Gojo surname reaches deep into a past Toji barely remembers; not only is this history old, but it’s also near inconsequential. It’s only ever been mentioned in the story of their great victorious ancestor who killed the vengeful spirit that fathered that clan, and how while the Zen’in clan grew in glory, the Gojo clan continued to fall from it. But oddly enough, Toji does recall something he’d heard, which he only remembers because it’s odd to mention the burnt - out family in the first place. “I heard they have a new kid.”

His uncle gracefully pulls out a kiseru and lights it, then puffs on it lazily before continuing. “...The rumor is that he possesses both the limitless and the six eyes technique.”

Toji frowns. The longer he’s here, the less he understands why he’s been called. “Get to the point.”

“It’s been years since you’ve left, Toji, but you surely can’t forget one of the most prolific battles of our family history. The ten shadows shaman versus the limitless many - eyed spirit.”

“Spare me the lecture, old man.”

“We want you to verify the rumor.” Seeing Toji pause, his uncle doesn’t need to wait for him to ask ‘why me?’ before continuing. “Your lack of cursed energy means that if it’s true, you’d be able to get in easily without being noticed. Since the birth of this boy, the family has been in utter seclusion. It’s almost as though they’re trying to hide him from the world.”

For a moment, Toji is silent. But slowly, he chuckles. The chuckle builds until it’s a booming laugh, bordering on a cackle.

“Is this funny to y ------”

“Oh, this is rich! A little kid has you all shitting yourselves, is that it? What’ll happen if the rumors are true? Will you all go sick with grief because you don’t have anyone with the ten shadows ability? Is that it? Are you sure you want to know, old man? After all, if it’s true, then your prolific battle story means dog shit. Unless … you’re asking me to off the kid? Because if that’s the case, I won’t do it. Not because it’s a kid, but because watching a primary schooler ruin your entire dynasty just by being alive is too funny to let pass by.”

Clear irritation is written across his uncle’s expression, but he forgoes an argument. “No one is asking you to kill anyone. We are confident the perfection this family produces is enough to rival one person. The Gojo clan can’t be rebuilt on the shoulders of a single man.”

“------ But?”

“But, that hasn’t stopped them from trying. They’ve managed to weasel their way back into the upper ranks based off of these rumors alone. If they’re a threat to our own influence, we must know.”

Toji waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care about any of that. How much are you offering?”

“Five million yen.”

“I want twenty.”

“And yet you’ll only get ten.”

Toji pauses. Ten million yen. He would have walked with the five, but to give him this much … they really were uneasy about this, weren’t they? It didn’t matter. These politics didn’t matter to him; it was a job, and it paid well. With ten million yen, he’d never have to sleep at that dingy apartment in Kabukicho again. “...Deal.”

This all brought him back to the beginning point: being caught for the first time. Sneaking into the estate was so easy it was almost comical, and dressed properly, he was easily believed to be a servant himself. The Gojo estate was different from the Zen’in estate. The Zen’in clan was big, lively compared to this place, where he could hear a pebble being kicked across the gravel he walked upon. This place was a graveyard. If the Zen’in estate was like a palace of bones, the Gojo estate was like the temple of a god that had died centuries ago. Big, but brittle. Quiet. Prayed to only by the wind that passed through it, as if out of pity, echoing the hollowness of it all.

But it would seem that god had returned at long last.

He made sure to keep a safe distance behind the boy; he was followed by two men on either side of him at all times, who Toji deduced to be bodyguards. If that was the case, he could only assume the rumors were indeed true. Why else would a child need to be guarded in his own home? As he walks behind him, Toji feels something unpleasant. Pity is too noble a word; but it was like gazing upon a lovely bird in a zoo. Did it know that it was captive, or was it content with the magnificent cage it lived in?

This kid is going to be one hell of a puppet, he thinks.

It is at that moment that the boy stops walking, then turns and looks at him. There’s no mistaking it. His eyes lock with Toji’s, and Toji halts in his tracks. It’s not like him to stop like that, but his body freezes of its own accord. Fighting, fucking, food, fortune. He’d always believed those were the four things that motivated the average man, but he forgot the last motive; maybe because he didn’t remember the last time he felt it, if he’d ever felt it at all before this moment.

Fear.

The boy’s face is pale and listless, nothing like that of a child. His hair and eyelashes are bone - white, and his eyes, large and owl - like, are a crystal clear blue that shimmers in a manner that makes it seem as though his irises swirl, like pools of fate. Toji shouldn’t be able to see that from here, but for some reason distance doesn’t seem to matter between them. He is several feet away from the child, but he sees him as though he’s inches in front of his nose. Curse … sorcerer … those words didn’t suit this boy at all.

This child is a demon.

The child doesn’t blink. The guards beside him seem to keep walking, but the boy also never seems to move from his place. Did he stop time? Did he pull Toji into another dimension entirely? The boy gazes at him with neither curiosity nor contempt; he simply looks at him, looks through him, and Toji feels as though his soul is being stripped bare. There’s no doubt. This boy knows everything; Toji wasn’t a paranoid man in the slightest, but he felt as though this child had known about it all ------ the zen’in’s, the exchange, the ten million yen, the rumors and the eyes on him, and the task to verify it all.

Well?, his eyes seemed to say. Have you seen enough? You have someone waiting for you. Go and tell them.

Toji would never forget that boy again.

He’d never been caught before.

As the knife is pulled from his flesh, Satoru feels the strange, unfamiliar sensation of being unable to support himself enough to stand. Is this what weakness felt like? He falls to the floor, finding himself incapable of processing that this attack even happened in the first place. He watches his blood pool around him ------ strangely enough, he feels no pain. As his vision goes dark, he knows the truth; the shock is preventing him from feeling a thing. Maybe he wasn’t as untouchable as he thought. “Su …” The name is not even half spoken before he falls silent.

He must be dead.

He stands in an expanse that extends forever, an endless void of vantablack that is maddening to look at. Didn’t people get a rush of endorphins before they died? Why, then, did he see a past that only made him miserable? He watches his life flash before his eyes; he sees his own birth. He sees the countless days he spent in his family estate, learning mathematical theory and physical nonsense all because they hoped he would awaken this latent infinity within him. He sees his arrival to Tokyo tech ------ his first time away from the prying eyes of his family. His first time meeting kids who weren’t hand selected to be his friends. The thrilling sensation of being disliked, being a delinquent. Breaking rules and laughing from his chest. It was a fun way to end things, he thought. I just wish I’d gotten to have a lot more of it.

He’s shown the moment of his demise, and Satoru grimaces. Ugh, how uncool. He looks like a deer with its throat in the maw of the wolf; helpless, surprised a second too late. He sees the horror in Suguru’s expression, and he feels just a tinge of guilt. The strongest duo’s broken up. Sorry I couldn’t stay and help you in the end.

He wants to look away ------ really, who wanted to watch themselves die twice? ------ but just as he thinks to, Satoru’s eyes stop on the face of the man who killed him. Why does he look familiar? He looks at his life laid before him, and watches a bright white string extend from this image and go back, back, back into a very peculiar day in his childhood. He sees himself, six years old, turning and locking eyes with him.

No. Not him. This man.

He met him before.

Great, he thought bitterly. So I was more perceptive when I was a first year.

But then, all of the images hit him at once. They condense and slam him with such force that Satoru feels pain all over his body, like the wind has been knocked out of him. He’s drowning in this knowledge ------ this infinity. Maybe that means in the physical world, his lungs are taking their last shallow breaths. The images continue to condense until they make a small orb; the single source of light in this place. Slowly, the orb opens and reveals an iris that reflects his own: too blue to be human, dimly shimmering in a way that makes them seem like a flowing spring. Satoru feels his own gaze turned upon him. His own voice echoes in his ears. Get up, it says. Or are you really that weak? If you can’t get up, you were never strong. You deserve to die here. Satoru’s hand extends towards the orb.

Get up, dickhead.

Satoru wakes up with a gasp, bolting upright with a shock that could wake the dead. And hadn’t it? No … he looks down at himself, and sees the still - warm blood staining his shirt. Satoru realizes in that moment, he never died at all.

Gojo Satoru had touched infinity for the first time.

He stills himself and thinks. Or, more accurately, perceives. He allows those six eyes to see for him. He’d forgotten that so much of his power worked without his effort, if he let it. Riko is dead. Suguru is alive. He’s still bleeding from his leg. And Toji is …

The rest is a blur.

“Yo. Long time no see.” It’s all he can say, when he’s intercepted Toji. Why is he here? The job is done. They failed. There’s no reason for Satoru to come here.

Ah, that was a lie. He was here to kill Toji. Infinity … he’d touched it and seen it; he’d be the strongest, now. No more goofing off, no more avoiding his own holiness. But the thing about being a god is that gods can’t be killed. And if there was someone who could kill him, that person had to fight him. Yes, that would be his true trial of divinity; he and Toji would fight here and now until one of them died, and whoever left standing would be the one truly bound to heaven.

The shock on Toji’s face doesn’t matter to him at all. ... Are you serious?, he says, but Satoru hears it like a dull echo. He’s barely listening to him.

Toji is weak, after all. And he hates weak people.

The shock is enough to make Satoru giddy, however, so he grins and pushes his hair up to show him the healed wound to his head. “Oh, yeah. I’m alive and well.” His eyes are owl - like and large again, though they don’t shimmer like quiet pools. They churn like a riptide, and they focus on Toji with malicious intent.

“A reverse technique,” Toji breathes, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Correct!” Satoru chirps. “I gave up on fighting back when you crushed my throat. I poured my all into perfecting this technique. Cursed energy uses negative energy. It can fortify the body, but it can’t cause regeneration. That’s why it’s necessary to multiply it with more negative energy to create the positive. That’s the reverse technique!” He laughs and his grin widens, and he can tell his elation is too much for Toji to understand. But it can’t be helped ------ this isn’t about Toji. He’s giddy because all along, the secret to reverse technique was math. Simple math, whereas Satoru had mastered complex number theory ages ago. All this time, the ability’s secret had simply flown over his head. If he had known it was just the application of a basic mathematical principle, he could have used reverse technique ten years ago. “The theory is easy enough, but I couldn’t do it at all ... until now. The only person I know who could do it can’t explain for shit, either. But I finally got it when I was on my deathbed … the core of cursed energy.”

Satoru grins and sighs euphorically before continuing on. “You lost because you didn’t cut off my head, and because you didn’t use a cursed tool when you stabbed me in the head.” Doesn’t Toji understand how funny that is?

Apparently not. Toji’s eyes flash all of a sudden. “Lost?” He says, pulling a cursed blade from the throat of his worm of an accessory. “The fight has just begun.”

“------ Huuuuuuuuuuuh?! Ah, yeah, I guess so!” Satoru realizes he’s right; he’d already seen the end of this in infinity, but he supposed he couldn’t say it happened until it did, right? He was getting ahead of himself. It’s not like Toji could see the future. He starts to laugh. “I guess you’re right!”

Toji gives him no time to even finish his sentence. He’s a real warrior, Satoru will give him that. He flies at him with the same beast - like grin from before, only this one is different. They both fight with the full intent to kill, and it’s not a matter of work. It’s a battle for the crown; one that Toji was for better or worse proud to have, and not willing to give up easily. Good. Toji understands.

He slashes at Satoru with terrifying force, but he has evolved since their last fight. The once devastating prowess of the sorcerer - killer is little more than a mild inconvenience to him, now. By the time Toji’s slash reaches the end of its arc, Satoru is in the sky above him, and even more terrifying than when he gave him that maddening smile, he looks upon him with a wide - eyed, barely perceptible grin. Though he’d already reached a new height, it would seem he was evolving again, right before Toji’s eyes. He was fortunate to witness it.

The positive energy that is born from the reverse technique … that energy is channeled into the infinity technique I’ve carved in myself. He understands, now. Reverse rotation technique.

“Red.”

It repels Toji back hundreds of feet, through a building and into the side of the concrete.

One: “The power to stop.” The neutral infinity jutsu. Up until this point, an ability that required vigilance and effort, and why he’d fallen to Toji.

Two: “The power to attract.” The reinforced infinity jujutsu, “blue”.

Three: “The power to repel.” The reverse jujutsu, “red”.

Satoru watches him attach his blade to a chain and create a vortex with it. Toji believes that he can fight this. And why wouldn’t he? Satoru had the power to stop from the start, and Toji circumvented it. The power to attract, he could negate either from afar with the spear, or he could outrun it. The power to repel could be blocked with the spear, so long as he got the timing right.

But Satoru still appears on the rooftop with the same peaceful grin from before, appearing madder than ever. He knows all of Toji’s thoughts already. He knows his heart. He knows that unease is slowly settling into his foe, but that despite that, Toji believes he still has a chance.

“No,” Toji tells himself. “It’ll work.” Satoru knew that Toji would say that. “------ I’ll kill you!”

Satoru knew he’d say that, too.

Time seems to go still, for a moment. Satoru reigns himself in, a sobering clarity coming forward in the midst of it all; he would not be a foolish god, after all.

I’m really sorry, Amanai, he thinks. I’m not angry on your behalf. I don’t hate anyone. All I’m feeling right now … Is the pleasantness of this world.

Satoru grins again, and extends his hands forward. This would be the final blow. “Throughout the heavens and earth, I alone am the honored one.”

Toji whips the bladed chain at Satoru, but it’s less effective than flailing a cotton rope at him, at this point. You don’t understand what’s going to happen yet, he thinks. That’s okay. I saw it in the void. You’re going to die here, Toji. Thank you for sending me into myself. I understand everything, now.

The good thing about jujutsu techniques that have been passed down over generations is that the instructions on their usage are clarified by the predecessors. The bad thing is that the information about the technique can be leaked much more easily.

You’re from one of the three great clans … the Zen’in clan, am I right? Satoru recalls the day he met Toji, all those years ago. The man who came to see him for ten million yen. How could he forget? He’d seen infinity before.

You know about “blue” and “red” … and everything about my infinity, I’ll bet, Satoru thinks. But this … even among the Gojo clan … only a select few know about. When the infinity collides with the forward and reverse rotation techniques … this is born. The expulsion of imaginary mass …

And I’m using it to kill you. You should be honored, Toji.

“Imaginary Technique: Purple.”

It is spoken like a final rite; like the decree to end all decrees. The opposing forces converge and destroy everything in their path … Toji, and anything unlucky enough to be behind him.

Satoru fixes that impenetrable gaze on him again. That soul stripping, all - knowing gaze. “I don’t wanna work for free.” ------ you’d usually just have said that and ran away. But the person in front of you is a user of the infinity jutsu, who probably just became the strongest shaman of this generation. You wanted to deny it. To go against it. Against the Zen’in clan that denied you, against the apex of the jujutsu world. In order to reaffirm your identity … you warped your usual self.

You already lost at that point.

“I thought I had discarded that pride …” Toji breaks the silence for them, finishing the thought that Satoru had heard from the depths of Toji’s soul.

Satoru heard every thought leading up to that declaration, but he feels strangely peaceful in the moment. He’d made this prophecy come true; Gojo Satoru emerged victorious, conquering death and the god - killer himself. There would be a new era from now on; for better or for worse, Satoru would be the head of it. “... Do you have any last words?”

“ … Nah.” The look on Toji’s face says he knows that Satoru’s seen everything. But, just in case … “In two or three years, my kid will get sold to the Zen’in clan.” Why was he telling him that? Maybe because he was understanding that if anyone could fuck up the natural order of things, it wasn’t him at all. It has always been this kid. Maybe it was because, in his final moments, he realized that he’d left behind nothing, and given his blessing to the very place that had sculpted his demise. Maybe it was the “regret” those damn shamans never shut up about. Whatever it was, Toji couldn’t bring himself to beg, even on Megumi’s behalf. “... Do whatever you want.”

Before the light left Toji’s eyes, Satoru watched something else die first. What broke then … was the heart. What, did he think he would go and right his wrongs? That he would protect his kid? It seemed his six eyes hadn’t anticipated him doing that. Honestly, what was Toji thinking? It was too late to ask that now, but Satoru only knew one thing for certain.

Satoru would never forget this man again.

#* GOJO » study.#* HOWL » saved.#i have to give u a tag now.#guroshi #* GOJO » rel : guroshi.

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despairforme · 5 years ago

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@z00kept said; Black scleras curiously glance at the taller male - / jesus /, what were they putting in people's drinks these days. Matteo's hand extends for Nnoitra to get a better look at the praying mantis swaying in center palm, upper limbs curved in the signature "praying" move. "AIn't she cute? She just fucked up her mate. Ate his head and all." Ah well, there was always next year. Would the other be bothered by the statements? WEll, only one way to find out. ( i really couldn't help myself )

Why was he here? Why was he in a ZOO? This was the sort of place where either parents brought their children, OR people went on dates. However, Nnoitra was here all alone. There WAS a legit reason for it though. He had won a bet with a real dumbass he had been fighting ( though, to be fair to the guy, at least he had been a good sport about losing, especially considering Nnoitra had knocked out two of his teeth ). Since he had won the bet, the price had been this - a ticket to the zoo. Nnoitra had thought that when the guy had asked him if he wanted ‘ a ticked to see the zoo ‘, he had thought he meant the BAND and not the actual zoo. Nnoitra didn’t care about animals, so why would he go here? He had thought about just ignoring the ticket, but then he had thought to himself - COULD this be a good place to bring Grimmjow on a date? Unlike himself, his boyfriend DID like animals. Or, more specifically - he liked cats. Surely, they had some cool cats here? So Nnoitra had gone to check it out, to see if it was worth bringing Grimmjow here. It would probably be a lame as fuck date to ask him on though... But Nnoitra knew Grimmjow would appreciate it. His boyfriend secretly enjoyed doing that lovey-dovey shit.

He had been trying to locate where they kept any type of cat, when he had wandered past the insect area. A guy had been showing off some bugs to people passing by, like a little ‘ show ‘ or whatever, and Nnoitra had stopped to watch. Was he hoping to get to eat one of those insects? Absolutely.

Nnoitra looked at the guy, their eyes briefly meeting, and Nnoitra couldn’t help but think that the guy kinda looked like a demon. Why the FUCK would someone tattoo their sclera? Or were they just contact lenses? He looked back at what he HAD been studying in the first place. The praying mantis the guy was holding. Nnoitra had never really had any real interest in insects. They were just a snack to him. Mantises were no different. Though, he supposed he DID feel a little more connected to the manties, seeing as ‘ the Mantis ‘ was his stage-name. Not like he had chosen it himself. Why the fuck would he have named himself after an insect? It was all because of his ‘ Santa Teresa ‘ tattoo, which apparently meant ‘ praying mantis ‘. Stupid. Nnoitra looked at the mantis in the other’s hand, and yeah, it really DID look like it was praying, so he could see why they were called that. He wouldn’t exactly call it cute though. Nnoitra still grinned and snorted. So even BUGS were crazy for sex, huh? Dying for some pussy.

❝ ‘Daz pretty fucked up. I guess he wasn’t ‘da first guy ‘ta die ‘fer some pussy. ❞ Guys did stupid shit for sex. Himself included. ❝ She don’t look cute, but she does look tasty. Ya got some I can eat? ❞ He was guessing that this one wasn’t up for grabs.

#z00kept #[ aaaa yes thank you! ]#[ MANTIS IS FAV INSECT FOREVER ]#[ also fun fact! ]#[ the whole deal about females eating their partners is a bit of a myth ]#[ like YES they do it ]#[ but big males also eat females and other males ]#[ so it's not about the insect's gender but its size ]#[ and females are generally bigger than males ]#[ but yeah!! 8D ]#[ thank you very much for the ask! ]#ᵈᵉˢᵖᵃᶤʳ ;; ic.#ᵇᵘʳᶰ 'ᵈᵃ ᶜᶤᵗʸ ;; verse.#ᵗᵃˡᵏᶤᶰ' ˢʰᶤᵗ ;; answers.#insect mention //

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fallforcs · 6 years ago

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Hayrides, Fate, and Fortune Cookies

Art by @imagnifika

Author: @searchingwardrobes

Hayrides, Fate, and Fortune Cookies

Summary: “Wow, you’re hot, but I’m pretty sure that’s your wife.” + “You are incredibly hot, and I keep falling in your lap on this hayride. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose. Wow, this is awkward!”

Rating: G for fall fluff. Like the fanfic equivalent of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon.

Trigger warnings: None unless you count the possibility of getting a toothache from the fluff :)

A huge thank you to my beta, @looselipswontsinkships . She was swamped with school, yet still managed to look this story over and catch my silly mistakes. Also a shout out to my artist. I had this idea in my head of a beautiful fall aesthetic for my story (which I could never make myself), and look what I got! It’s not only gorgeous but exactly what I was hoping for.

I absolutely adore fall, so I hope you all enjoy this little Captain Swan autumn one shot …

When she woke up that morning, Emma Swan would have never believed that the day would start with a hayride and end with fortune cookies. Of course, she had promised three year old Henry that she would take him to the pumpkin patch in the little coastal town of Storybrooke, Main. The one that all the mom blogs in Portland rated the best pumpkin patch in the area. Peter’s Pumpkins and Pies. In Storybrooke . Ah, she got it. Cute and clever. Or something.

There was so little that she, as an overworked, underpaid single mother, could give to her tiny son. She could at least give him this. She could take pictures of Henry in his cute fall jacket amidst the bright orange pumpkins and post them on Instagram, just like all the other moms.

But then she had awakened to a cold drizzle outside the window and a leaden gray sky. She gently told Henry the weather was just too nasty for the pumpkin patch. Then Henry had dissolved into a puddle of tears on the kitchen floor. Now, Emma wasn’t one of those moms who was ruled by some kind of toddler tyrant. But the thing was, Henry wasn’t that kind of kid. Sure, he had colic the first four months of his life, but it was as if he’d spent all his tears in that brief space of time (though it hadn’t felt brief when she was in the middle of it.) But now Henry was a complacent, easy to please child. His tears that morning were more of the “my little heart is breaking” variety rather than the “I’m going to scream until I get my way” variety.

Emma’s heart broke a little bit too. She was supposed to feel like she didn’t suck at this mom thing for once. So she bundled Henry up in his waterproof jacket with the flannel lining and put his Spiderman boots on his little feet, and prayed the rain would taper off during the 45 minute drive.

For once, Emma’s prayers to anyone up there who would listen were actually answered because by the time she parked in the open field next to Peter’s Pumpkins and Pies, the rain had stopped. However, their feet still made loud squelching sounds as they walked across the soaked grass, and Emma was glad for the rain boots they both wore. The sky was still gray, and the wind that lashed their faces still held a hint of dampness. It also brought the smell of wet, dirty fur downwind from the petting zoo. Not the most pleasant aroma. Emma would have to make sure Henry didn’t notice the barnyard where they kept the animals. The last things she wanted to do was wade through the mud to pet wet, smelly sheep and goats.

“Two please,” Emma said when she reached the ticket booth.

“That’ll be twenty-four dollars,” the plump, cheery woman behind the counter told her.

Emma’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Tw-twenty f-four dollars?” she stuttered incredulously.

“That’s right, tickets are twelve dollars a person,” the woman explained, her smile not wavering in the least at Emma’s reaction.

“But, he’s only three,” Emma said, gesturing down to Henry, “does he get in free?”

The woman peered at Henry over the edge of the booth and shrugged apologetically at Emma. “Only guests two and under are free.”

Emma let out a long breath. “A child’s ticket?” she asked hopefully.

“That is the child’s price,” the woman clarified, pointing to a bright sign decorated in fall leaves that announced: Adult Admission at Child’s Price! This weekend only! “Adult tickets are normally sixteen dollars.”

Emma bit her lip as she fished the money out of her pocket. She had promised Henry, but there went pizza for tonight. She guessed it was bologna sandwiches again.

The good thing about the rain was that the crowd was thin. Emma figured that the weather was a blessing in disguise since the weekend’s special deal usually made it a crowded one. Emma was also relieved to see that the petting zoo was down the hill and out of sight of her enthusiastic three year old. Henry was bouncing up and down and swinging their joined hands back and forth.

“What do you want to do first, Henry?” Emma asked, the sight of her son’s joy causing everything else - the weather, the mud, the smells, and the expensive cost of admission - to be pushed far from her mind. “There’s a corn maze, a story barn, a hay ride … oooh, look you can paint your own little pumpkin!”

Emma was relieved to see that everything, including the mini pumpkins to paint, were included in the price of admission. The only thing they would have to pay for was a large pumpkin to take home and carve and maybe a pie. (Okay, she was definitely getting a pie. If pizza was out, she was at least getting a dessert out of all this.)

The next hay ride wasn’t for another fifteen minutes, so they decided to go the story barn where an enthusiastic teenager in overalls and braids was getting ready to read a picture book to the children gathering around on huge logs. Emma grimaced when they took a seat; the logs had apparently soaked up all the rain. Henry scrambled up to stand on top of the log so he could see better over the gathering crowd.

“Henry care-“ the words had barely left Emma’s mouth when Henry’s left Spiderman boot slid out from under him. He pitched backwards, arms pinwheeling in empty air. Emma reached out to grab him, but another set of hands caught him first. “Oh my God, thank you! I –“

Emma’s words failed her then as she looked up into an unfairly attractive face. The man had lustrous dark hair, a finely chiseled jaw covered in delicious looking scruff, and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. The eyes were what left her speechless. Then he smiled. A charming, somewhat rakish smile, and then Emma felt herself go hot. She blinked, trying to rouse herself from this stupor. She never let men affect her this way. Ever.

“Be careful there, lad,” he chuckled as he swung Henry up.

He had a British accent, too. Great. If he wasn’t a solid ten before, he sure was now. And he was fit too she could now see as he deposited Henry gently back onto the log (in a seated position this time). His tight jeans, black leather jacket, and gray t-shirt beneath put his toned physique on clear display. The v-neck of the shirt also showed off dark chest hair that made Emma’s throat go dry. He winked at her as he took his seat again on the log behind them.

“Swing me up too!” the little girl next to him squealed. She was an adorable thing with big blonde curls and huge blue eyes that were the same shade as Henry’s rescuer. The man caved immediately to the little girl’s request, and she giggled in delight as he scooped her up and swooped her around in an arc.

“Put her down, Killian!” a woman admonished, though her words had little heat. “The show’s about to start, and you’re blocking everyone’s view!”

The man – Killian, apparently – obeyed the woman’s request immediately, settling the little girl on his knee. It was then that Emma noticed the wedding band glinting in the sun on his left hand. Emma’s heart immediately sank. Sure enough, the woman beside him also had a wedding band with a sparkling diamond solitaire nestled above it. Emma wondered how those rings could sparkle so much on a cloudy day. They must be mocking her.

Emma turned away, putting her arm around Henry to pull him closer as story time began. It was about a misfit pumpkin who was square instead of round, though Emma had a hard time following the plot. She was far too aware of the handsome stranger behind her, and she had to force herself not to glance behind her. He’s with his wife she kept admonishing herself.

The enthusiastic storyteller had Henry giggling in all the right places. She finished up the story with a bow, informing everyone that another hayride was about to leave from the wooden gate directly behind them. It was insane how fast the mob headed in that direction, and Emma held tight to Henry’s hand. They were jostled by overeager children and parents who acted as if this were a ride at Disneyland instead of a flatbed piled with hay. A large man with an ample midsection shoved Emma from behind, propelling her right into … married hottie.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her face burning with embarrassment. To make matters worse, her next step sent her sliding through a slick patch of mud, and the stranger had to grasp her by both arms to keep her from falling.

“No harm, love,” he assured as he helped her find her footing again.

“Mommy, hu-wee!” Henry piped up, yanking on her hand.

She shook her head to clear it and saw that the hayride was almost full. She mumbled a thank you to the blue-eyed Brit and hurried after her son. The man’s wife and daughter were already climbing the steps into the hay bed, and he hurried past Emma to assist them. Emma took the opportunity to really look at the woman. She moved with elegance, even when taking her husband’s hand to climb aboard the flatbed. Her light blonde hair was in a fishtail braid that rested over her shoulder. She smiled at the little girl as her husband swung the child up, tickling her as she settled into her mother’s lap. It was a picture of domestic bliss framed with the wooden fence and the trees above covered in red and orange leaves like the covers of those parenting magazines that littered the waiting room at the health department. But she could at least scoff at those, knowing they were fake families made of perfect models. This scene was like salt rubbed right where it would hurt most.

Emma brushed off the melancholy thoughts as she helped Henry up into the hay. She had never been so keenly aware of how scuffed his boots were, how faded his little thrift store jacket. Did everyone on this hayride look at the two of them and feel pity? Or worse, judgment? Emma bit her lip, wondering why the handsome man and his picture perfect family were bothering her so much. She grasped the sides of the flatbed and pulled herself up. She and Henry were the last two on, and the hay was packed with people. Emma hesitated, glancing around for an open spot. Impatient, Henry began to whine and cling to her leg. His weight, combined with the uneven bed of hay and the slight tilt of the vehicle on the rutted trail, sent Emma pitching sideways. She fell into another person, both of them grunting with the impact. Emma braced herself against a strong pair of shoulders and looked up into the shocked blue eyes of the same handsome – unavailable – man as before. What did his wife call him again? Oh right …Killian.

To Emma’s shock, his wife actually laughed as Emma stammered an apology. She had literally fallen into the man’s lap, and her legs were tangled up with his. A blush colored his own cheeks as he grinned at her.

“We’ve got to quit meeting this way,” he teased.

“Stop flirting and let the poor woman go,” his wife admonished with a light slap to his shoulder.

She was either really secure in their relationship, or she was really used to women falling all over her husband. Probably the latter, though most women probably didn’t do it as literally as Emma just had. Emma scooted quickly out of his lap, but still didn’t see a spot for her and Henry. It felt like everyone on the hayride was staring at her.

“Here love,” Killian said, scooting over closer to his wife and slinging his arm over her shoulder, “you and your boy can squeeze in here.”

Emma mumbled a thank you yet again – when had her tongue swollen to twice its size? – and wedged herself between Killian and the back gate of the flatbed. She got Henry situated on her lap just as the tractor lurched forward. She grabbed onto the metal grate next to her to steady herself.

“Killian Jones,” the man at her side officially introduced himself, offering his hand.

“Emma Swan,” she replied, shaking it.

“Elsa Jones,” the other woman said, leaning over Killian to offer her hand to shake as well. The last name snuffed out the tiny flicker of hope that had remained in Emma’s heart. So they were married. “And this,” Elsa Jones added, tickling the little girl in her own lap, “is Bethany.”

“Nice to meet you, Bethany,” Emma told the little girl, “how old are you?”

“Thwee,” the child answered, struggling to hold up the requisite number of fingers.

“What do you know?” Emma said to Henry enthusiastically. “You’re three too, Henry. Say hello to Bethany.”

“Hello,” Henry muttered as if it pained him to do so, then turned his face to bury it in his mother’s chest.

Emma frowned. “What’s up with you, kid? You’re never shy.”

Killian leaned towards her conspiratorially. “Maybe he just has a thing for blondes.”

He waggled his eyes, and Emma wondered what his angle was. Maybe he was referring to his wife? Then again, he had also winked at Emma earlier. The guy’s handsome looks suddenly weren’t affecting her quite the same way. What kind of jerk flirted with another woman right in front of his wife?

Emma pressed her lips together as she purposefully looked away from him. Come on, Emma, a part of her argued, maybe he’s just friendly and doesn’t realize how it comes across. But another part of her argued back that the male gender hadn’t exactly proven itself trustworthy throughout her life. Most were scumbags, weren’t they?

The hay ride took them past a field of cows and another of beautiful horses. Emma and Elsa both chatted with the children about the animals, asking what sounds they made. Elsa laughed and chatted with Emma about the things mothers usually do; the struggles of potty training, the annoying kid shows with songs that get stuck in your head, the infernal stubbornness of three year olds. Emma found it odd that she didn’t include her husband in the parenting equation, and even more strange that he didn’t put in his own antidotes. The cracks were showing in this supposedly perfect little family, but it strangely didn’t bring Emma any satisfaction.

The hayride was incredibly bumpy because of all the rain, much to Emma’s chagrin because she kept falling against the rock-hard chest of the man sitting next to her. The more it happened, the more irritated Emma became and the more apologetic Killian became.

Next they passed a field of pumpkins where families ambled amongst the orange gourds, searching for the perfect one. The children both exclaimed with delight, asking when they would get to choose their own pumpkin. Bethany tugged on her father’s arm, pointing excitedly.

“I see, starfish, pumpkins!” he chuckled, brushing a kiss against her curls.

Emma blinked, her heart playing ping pong with her brain. Who was this guy? Flirtatious jerk? Inattentive husband? Doting father? Emma couldn’t tell.

As they rounded the pumpkin patch, the tractor hit a deep rut and then slid in the mud. For one terrifying moment, the entire thing pitched sideways and everyone on board screamed. The driver corrected, guiding them back onto steady ground with a huge bump. The bump sent Emma careening sideways, and she ended up draped across the chest of Killian Jones, her arms encircling his neck.

She reacted more quickly this time, her “I’m so, so, SO sorry!” now directed at Elsa. The woman, amazingly, still didn’t seem fazed. As a matter of fact, the smile on her face and the light in her eyes almost seemed … delighted?

Emma didn’t want to waste one more minute trying to figure out this little family. As soon as the driver opened the gate, Emma scrambled down from the hayride, balancing Henry on her hip. Her son, however, wasn’t cooperating with her attempt at a quick getaway. At some point during the hay ride, Bethany had apparently become his new best friend. She squealed and grabbed his hand as soon as her family climbed down.

“We wanna do the maze!” Bethany shouted.

“The maze! The maze!” Henry echoed her, jumping up and down.

Then the two of them were off like a shot towards the nearby field of tall corn.

“Don’t get too far ahead!” Elsa shouted after them.

“You’ll get lost in there, Henry!” Emma called out as she and her new friend jogged down the hill after them.

“I’ve got them!” Killian assured, passing them with his longer strides. He grabbed up both kids easily, one in each arm, and they both giggled with delight. He turned towards Emma and Elsa with a wink then set the kids down at the entrance to the maze marked “easy.”

Elsa and Emma slowed their pace, following Killian and the children into the maze. Elsa gave her an almost mischievous smile before leaning over to speak to her in a low voice.

“I think he likes you.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide as saucers and her mouth hung open at the other woman’s words. She glanced over at Killian, then back to Elsa, then blinked rapidly. “He, you mean Killian? As in your … your … husband?” She practically whispered the last word.

Elsa’s eyebrows flew to her hairline before she tilted her head back and let out a long, hearty laugh. Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, failing to see why being invited into some weird open marriage scenario was so hilarious to this woman.

“Oh my God, no!” Elsa laughed, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I guess I can see how you thought that. We should have been clearer when we introduced ourselves. Killian’s my brother-in-law .”

“Ohhh …” Emma said, trailing off, feeling like she’d just gotten mental whiplash, “but he is married. I saw the ring.”

The smile fell from Elsa’s face as she shook her head, “I’ve told him so many times to take that ring off. He says he can’t bear to, but I think it’s sort of a way to protect his heart, you know? Women assume, like you did, so they stay away.”

Emma tilted her head as her gaze landed on Killian again. He grabbed Bethany before she could dash off in the opposite direction from Henry, tickling her as he tossed her over his shoulder.

“What happened to his wife?”

Elsa sighed. “It was a brain tumor. By the time they found it, the cancer was too advanced. He only had Milah for about four months after the diagnosis. That was four years ago.”

Emma groaned and covered her face with her hands, “God, I feel horrible now.”

Elsa chuckled. “I understand now why you got a little prickly back there. You thought my husband was hitting on you.” She laughed again as if being married to Killian was the funniest, most preposterous scenario. “I mean, he’s a great guy, but he and Liam – my husband – couldn’t be more different. I guess steady and serious is more my type.”

They walked in silence for a moment. They could no longer see Killian or the kids, but they could hear the children’s giggles around the corner and followed the sound.

“Liam is in the navy,” Elsa explained, “and when he was deployed eight months ago, Killian moved here to help with Bethany.”

“Wow,” Emma said, feeling even worse about the assumptions she had made, “that’s a rare guy.”

“Yeah,” Elsa agreed, “that’s why I want to see him move on from his grief.” She stopped and turned to Emma with an earnest expression. “That’s why I was so happy the second he winked at you back at the story barn. I haven’t seen him flirt with a woman that way in so long. And he blushed ten shades of red when you landed in his lap.”

Emma groaned. “Twice. I landed in his lap twice.”

Elsa nudged her shoulder. “Maybe it was fate giving you a little push.”

The “easy” corn maze took far longer than Emma would have expected, and they were all hot, sweaty, and hungry by the time they found their way out. The clouds had rolled away, revealing a bright blue sky, and the temperature had risen with it. Henry had shed his jacket long ago, leaving Emma to lug it around along with her own.

“Why do people think these things are fun?” Emma quipped as they exited the corn field, and Elsa and Killian both laughed in agreement.

“And that was the easy one!” Elsa said with a shake of her head.

“Let’s get some food into these little ones, shall we?” Killian asked, gesturing to a food truck that had been parked along the tree line with wooden picnic benches set up in front of it.

“The little ones?” Emma laughed. “ I’m starving.”

“Uh, why don’t I take the kids and get us a table?” Elsa suggested. “And you two go get the food?”

Emma had only just met the woman, but she was no fool. She noticed the slight tilt of Elsa’s head in Killian’s direction as she locked eyes with Emma. Then she was corralling the kids towards the tables, assuming the other two adults would follow her orders.

“How she and my brother don’t fight twenty four seven is beyond me,” Killian commented with a shake of his head. “They both like bossing people around.”

Emma laughed as they made their way to the food truck. When they joined the long line of people waiting to order, she cleared her throat nervously and shuffled her feet.

“I owe you an apology,” she finally blurted out.

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Miss Swan, you really need to stop apologizing. It was crowded and bumpy –“

She waved her hand to stop him. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about … .” she searched for the right words and finally settled on the one Elsa had used earlier, “being prickly.”

He cocked his head at her. “Prickly?”

She let out a long breath. “I was sort of rude. I … I thought you and Elsa were married.”

He gave a small chuckle but didn’t dissolve into laughter as Elsa hand. Instead he lifted his left hand and fiddled with the ring resting there. “I can’t fault you for being confused, love. And if you were right, I would definitely be worthy of your cold shoulder.”

“Are you always so eloquent?” Emma asked, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

He laughed and scratched behind his ear. “So I’ve been told.”

“So I’m forgiven?”

His smile broadened. “Of course.”

They shuffled forward in the slow moving line, and Emma gazed across the field where Elsa sat at a picnic table. Henry was chasing Bethany in circles nearby.

“Elsa explained it all to me,” she told him quietly.

“About why I’m tagging along with their little family or why I’m still wearing a wedding ring?” he asked bluntly.

Emma shrugged. “Both.”

He nodded, staring down at the ring and twirling it around his finger. “It was hard for me to be around them at first. I know it hurt Liam; he was so excited when Bethany was born. But all it did was remind me of what I had lost.” He looked up and met Emma’s gaze. “Milah was pregnant when they found the tumor. Our child and Bethany would have been about the same age.”

Emma frowned as her heart sank. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He released a sigh as he rubbed his chin. “But it was wrong of me to stay away. I see that now. When Liam shipped out, I was going nowhere, doing nothing with my life. The least I could do was be here for my family when they needed me. Being around Bethany has been the best medicine for my soul, you know? I love that little starfish with all I have.”

Emma smiled. “Kids can do that. Henry is the only good thing to come from a very painful time in my life.”

Killian frowned. “I’m sorry, Emma. Is his father in his life at all?”

Emma shook her head. “No. He doesn’t deserve to be. Let’s just say he took advantage of me, then left me.” She pressed her lips together, hoping Killian didn’t ask for more of the story. She was shocked she had told him that much.

He reached down and gently took her hand. “He must be the world’s biggest idiot, then,” he told her softly, giving her fingers a tiny squeeze.

Emma felt a blush stain her cheeks even as she rolled her eyes. “Smooth.”

Killian wiggled his eyebrows. “It was rather, wasn’t it?” he quipped, making her laugh.

By that point, they had reached the truck. Emma looked over the menu, which was filled with typical country fair type refreshments: funnel cakes, corn dogs, French fries, and candy apples. Emma’s heart sank as she looked at the inflated prices, imagining the tiny wad of cash remaining in the front pocket of her jeans.

“It’s on me, Swan,” Killian said as he stepped up to the window, pulling his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Anything you and your boy would like.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Emma protested.

He smiled gently at her. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

Emma hated charity, but the way Killian spoke so sincerely, the way his gaze rested warmly on her, it didn’t feel like charity at all. She gave a simple nod, then gave the employee in the window her order. They made their way back to Elsa and the kids laden down with five corn dogs, four orders of fries, an order of onion rings, and five cans of soda. Killian helped her hand everything out, and they all sat down. Elsa and Emma went to work immediately cutting the kids’ corn dogs into bite size pieces.

“Onion rings, not fries,” Killian pointed out before taking a sip of his drink, “I’ll file that information away, love.”

Emma shook her head, hating the way he could so easily make her blush as she concentrated on Henry’s corn dog. She cleared her throat. “Who says you’ll need it?”

He arched one brow and smirked. “A man can hope.”

Elsa smiled delightedly at the pair of them, no doubt praising herself for her matchmaking skills.

*********************************************************

After eating, the kids wanted to go to the pumpkin painting booth. Each child got a complimentary tiny pumpkin to paint. Being typical three year olds, both children were too stubborn to let Elsa or Emma assist them. Little Bethany poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she carefully dabbed blue and yellow polka dots all over her pumpkin. Her circles were blotchy and misshapen, but for three, it was extremely impressive. Henry, on the other hand, insisted on covering his pumpkin sloppily in every color available.

“She’s really good at this,” Emma commented, gesturing to Bethany’s handiwork.

Elsa grinned and elbowed Killian in the ribs. “It’s in her genes, isn’t it?”

“You’re an artist?” Emma asked as Killian scratched behind his ear. She was beginning to wonder if it was a nervous tic of his.

“I dabble,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Dabble?” Elsa snorted with a roll of her eyes. Then she looked at Emma and explained, “he’s a graphic artist.”

“Well,” Killian explained, gesturing to the table before them, “I was referring to the paint. I dabble with painting. The computer stuff is my job. But drawing and painting? That’s my hobby.”

Emma smiled with appreciation at him, then frowned down at Henry’s pumpkin. The colors had all mixed together into a nasty brown. “Well, I can’t say there are any artistic genes in my family.”

Henry turned with a broad grin to show off his pumpkin, and Killian hid a laugh behind his hand. Emma shrugged as she praised Henry’s effort. Oh well, maybe her kid would have other talents, right?

The employees manning the booth lined up all the pumpkins to dry on a shelf behind them, jotting the kids’ names on paper towels. They were informed that they could pick up the dried projects on their way out in about half an hour, so the five of them headed for the pumpkin patch.

“We’re avoiding the petting zoo,” Elsa whispered in Emma’s ear conspiratorially.

“Oh, I’m with you on that one,” Emma whispered back.

“I mean, it rained this morning,” Elsa continued, wrinkling her nose, “do you know how bad those animals are going to smell?”

Emma laughed, “I know, right?”

She remembered reading Anne of Green Gables as a kid. Tried to read it, anyway. The librarian at her middle school thought it would be perfect for Emma; the story of an unwanted orphan finding an unlikely family. The librarian was wrong. Emma Swan had never met a Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, had never been as optimistic as Anne Shirley, and she had certainly never had any friends who were “kindred spirits.” But now, here with Elsa? She was re-thinking the possibility of such things.

The kids raced through the rows of pumpkins, thumping them with their hands like giant drums. Elsa chose a medium sized pumpkin to make a pie, tucking it under her arm. Emma just stood there, looking up and down the rows with a frown on her face.

“Something wrong, love?” Killian asked.

Emma shrugged with a wry laugh. “Never been to a pumpkin patch before. I’ve always just gotten them at the grocery store.”

Killian nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The first time I ever went was with Milah after we’d been married about a year.” He pushed a pumpkin idly with his toe before meeting her gaze. “Not many foster parents take the time you know. Never even carved a pumpkin until Liam and I were on our own.”

Emma blinked, shocked to recognize the shame in his eyes. “Foster parents?”

Killian nodded. “Mum died when I was so young, I don’t remember her. Papa just up and left. So …”

Emma bit her lip. “Similar story,” she admitted, “I guess. Thing is, I don’t even know who my parents were or why they abandoned me.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and Emma was relieved to see only understanding, not pity in Killian’s eyes. Then he gave her a soft smile and reached out to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Well Swan, you never forget your first,” he told her with a smirk.

Emma gaped. “Excuse me?”

He laughed. “First pumpkin that is.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him in the shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“You think I’m cute, admit it,” he teased, sauntering into her personal space.

Emma swallowed hard as she tilted her head to look up at him. The sun overhead sparkled in his blue eyes and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Are you two ever going to pick a pumpkin, or are you just going to keep flirting?”

Elsa’s voice snapped them both out of it, and Killian rushed over to hoist the large carving pumpkin that his sister-in-law was attempting to juggle with the pie pumpkin. Killian turned back to Emma, his expression looking a bit bashful as his tongue swiped across his lower lip nervously.

“We’re having a get together tonight,” Killian began, “for Elsa’s sister’s birthday. It’s real casual; just ordering some Chinese and then having a bonfire. We … we would love to have you. And Henry, of course.”

“That’s a great idea!” Elsa exulted, smiling broadly. “Bethany and Henry have obviously hit it off, and we always order way too much food.”

“Um …” Emma hedged, her gaze darting from Killian to Elsa and back again.

A part of her wanted to say yes. She had only just met these two, and they already felt like such great friends. But the other part of her, the cautious part, latched onto the fact that she had just met these people . Wasn’t this the part in movies where the naïve young mother gets taken in by the seemingly friendly couple who are actually serial killers? Or she accepts a friendly offer only to find herself escorted to the compound of some weird cult?

Emma shook her head before the words were even out of her mouth. “It’s such a long drive to the city. We really shouldn’t.”

Killian glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s three already, and we’re eating at six. You can just come on over and visit until everyone arrives.”

“You’ll love Anna and her husband,” Elsa insisted.

Emma looked into both their faces, so friendly, so open. In Killian’s eyes, and in their conversations, she also felt a deep connection that she couldn’t explain. But instead of those things comforting her, they only freaked her out more.

“I really can’t,” she said firmly.

Neither of them could hide their disappointment. Killian’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his head to stare at the pumpkin in his arms. When he lifted his gaze to Emma’s, his expression was almost pleading.

“It was wonderful meeting you, Swan. Perhaps … I could get your number?”

Emma felt her heart thudding in her chest, the air suddenly tight in her lungs. They had too much in common, too much shared tragedy. He would expect things to get serious, and that terrified her.

“I … don’t think that’s a good idea.” She averted her gaze when she saw the clear hurt in his eyes.

“Well,” he said with a resigned sigh, “let me help Elsa get these to the car, and I’ll come back and carry yours for you.”

“No, don’t do that,” Emma told him quickly. She feared if she was in this man’s presence for one more minute, her resolve might crumble. “We may be awhile yet. First pumpkin, remember? Gotta make it a good one.”

The smile he gave her was forced, and Elsa laid a hand on his arm as they walked away. Emma remembered her words earlier, I haven’t seen him flirt with a woman that way in so long. He had finally put himself out there, and Emma had crushed him. After they disappeared over the hill, Emma collapsed onto an enormous pumpkin behind her.

“Mo-mmy!” Henry exclaimed, pulling on her hand. “Why you sittin?”

Emma looked at her son wearily. “Because Mommy feels like dirt, that’s why.”

She let Henry pull her to her feet, and she wandered aimlessly among the pumpkins. Henry didn’t seem to mind her stupor, content to run around, climbing on pumpkins and using them like bongo drums. She finally snapped out of it and helped Henry pick a pumpkin for them to carve. One that wasn’t too big or too small and was nice and round. When she hoisted it into her arms, she regretted turning down Killian’s offer to come back and carry it for her. Thankfully, an employee came over to assist her, pushing a wheelbarrow.

It wasn’t until Emma had paid for the pumpkin with the last of the cash in her pocket and had the employee lift it into her backseat that she remembered the tiny pumpkin Henry had painted. She contemplated leaving it, considering that it looked like it had been rolled in doggy poo, but then she thought about what would happen if Henry remembered it. She might have a meltdown on her hands, especially since he hadn’t had a nap today. She sighed wearily, took Henry’s hand, and headed back to the painting booth.

Emma smiled at the workers and thanked them as they handed her Henry’s brown-smudged pumpkin. As she turned to go, Henry’s exclamation stopped her.

“Mommy, look!”

Her son was holding up a pink polka dot Minnie Mouse backpack. On the table next to him was the adorable polka dotted pumpkin Bethany had painted earlier. Emma gasped and took the backpack from her son’s hand. She remembered Elsa carrying it around all day, even complaining how she couldn’t get Bethany to wear it. She examined the pack, looking for a tag with an address, but she could find nothing. She zipped it open, and there, written in black sharpie on the inside cover was, “Property of Bethany Jones, 1245 Sweet Haven Lane, Storybrooke, ME.”

“Henry,” Emma said to her little boy with a smile on her face, “I think fate just gave me another push.”

***********************************************************

Emma’s GPS told her to take another right turn, then announced that her destination was on the left. Emma parked along the curb, leaning to look out of the window of her yellow bug at the adorable blue Victorian house at 1245 Sweet Haven Lane.

“I hung-wee, Mommy,” Henry told her from the backseat.

“I know, kid,” Emma told him as she unbuckled her seat belt, “we might be eating in just a minute.” If they still want us, that is.

Emma helped Henry out of his car seat and onto the curb. She grabbed Bethany’s things from the front passenger seat, then took Henry’s hand as they walked up the front steps of the beautiful house. It was a little after six, and dusk was falling. The porch lights were already glowing beside the quaint front door. Emma took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open a few moments later, and Emma’s breath left her lungs when she saw Killian Jones standing there. Thankfully, he smiled when he saw her.

“Swan! You changed your mind?”

Emma returned his smile and lifted the backpack up for him to see. “I found this after you left. Your address was inside.”

“Oh,” Killian said, his face falling as he accepted the bag, “thank you.”

“The pumpkin she painted is inside.”

“Uncle Ki-wee!” a small voice called, and then Bethany Jones was colliding with her uncle’s leg. “My bag!” she squealed, grabbing it and hugging it to her chest. “Hen-we!” she exclaimed next, launching herself at her new friend.

“Beffy!” Henry shouted in return.

Before Emma could say anything, Bethany was pulling Henry inside and tugging him down the hall. She shouted as she ran, “They came, Mommy! It worked!”

Killian’s jaw dropped and his face turned red. He pointed at his niece’s retreating form. “I did not plan this, I swear. This was all Elsa’s doing.”

Emma smiled shyly up at him. “I don’t mind. I’m kind of glad, actually.”

He grinned so wide, Emma noticed for the first time that he had dimples. “So you’ll stay?”

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I do like Chinese food.”

Killian ushered her inside, where she was promptly enveloped in a hug from Elsa.

“Don’t be mad,” she whispered in Emma’s ear.

Emma smiled at her as she pulled away from her embrace. “Mad? I might just thank you.”

Elsa gave a relieved laugh as she pulled her gently into a formal dining room. A red head walked through an archway that led into the kitchen, carrying two cartons of take out. She actually waddled more than walked because she was very hugely pregnant.

“Emma,” Elsa said eagerly, pulling her across the room, “this is my sister Anna.”

The woman set the cartons of fried rice onto the table and then hugged Emma eagerly. “It is so nice to meet you! Elsa told me all about everything,” she finished with a wink.

Emma could only stammer and blush as Anna stepped away. A man with dirty blonde hair came through the archway next, carrying plastic containers of sweet and sour chicken.

“So who was at the door?” he asked as he came into the room, not really paying attention. “Was it that blonde Killian has a crush on?”

Killian walked in the room at the same moment from the hallway, and he stood there, the top of his ears turning red. Bethany was wrapped around his left leg, and Henry around his right. Both were giggling delightedly. Overall, it made an adorable picture.

“Kristoff!” Anna admonished over her shoulder, then quickly turned back to Emma. “Forgive my husband, he has no filter.”

“Says the girl who asked me why I smelled like wet fur the day she met me,” Kristoff grumbled.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Just go get the soy sauce, honey.”

Chastised, Kristoff shuffled back to the kitchen. Elsa shook her head. “Don’t mind them, their cutting banter is their idea of foreplay.”

Anna laughed as she eased herself awkwardly into a dining room chair. “As you can clearly see,” she said, rubbing her large abdomen.

“When are you due?” Emma asked politely.

“Not for another month,” Anna said on a long sigh, “and I know, I’m huge.”

“You look perfect,” Kristoff assured her as he returned with the condiments.

He leaned over and planted a kiss to her forehead. Anna tilted her head and smiled up at him, squeezing the hand that rested on her shoulder. Emma had to admit they were an adorable couple.

Elsa encouraged everyone to take a seat, adamant about who sat where. Therefore, Emma wasn’t surprised to end up on Killian’s right with Henry on the other side of her. Food was passed around amidst easy chatter, and Emma just soaked it in. The only time she ever had this as a kid was with that one family when she was fourteen. Then they had chosen their “real kids” over her, and she had run away.

“So Elsa said you live in Portland,” Kristoff said, making small talk to include her. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um … “ Emma hedged, squirming in her seat, “right now I’m just a temp, filling in here and there.”

She stared at her fried rice, hoping her answer didn’t make her sound irresponsible. Giving birth in jail at 18 wasn’t exactly conducive to higher education, and even though she had worked her butt off once she got out to be able to keep Henry, employers weren’t exactly jumping to give her a chance.

“That’s so funny,” Elsa laughed, “I was working at a temp agency when I met Kristoff. I would never have offered him a home cooked meal if I had known he would steal away my sister.”

Emma laughed along with them as they reminisced, relieved that no one was pressing her about her career plans. Until Elsa turned to her again.

“Have you thought of online college?” she asked. “That’s what I did while working as a temp. Anna and I lost our parents when I was a freshman in college, and it drastically changed both our plans.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly.

Killian leaned over, “Welcome to the orphan’s club.”

Emma glanced around the table at all of the welcoming faces around her, and for the first time since she pulled up to the curb in front of the house, she relaxed. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and Emma found herself smiling and laughing.

“Killian!” Anna gasped, reaching across the table to grasp his left hand which was reaching for another helping of rice, “You took off your wedding ring!”

“Um, aye,” he said awkwardly, pulling his hand from her grip and scratching behind his ear. He glanced at Emma and held her gaze as he explained. “It felt like it was finally time to move on.”

“Oh, I’m so happy!” Anna gasped, both hands flying to her face and tears filling her eyes. She grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her cheeks as they spilled over. “Sorry, pregnancy hormones you know.”

“Mommy,” Bethany piped up, tugging on Elsa’s sleeve, “when we get mashmell-os?”

Elsa rubbed her daughter’s back. “In just a little bit, sweetie.”

“I think we’re all done, right?” Kristoff asked. “All we have to do is toss the paper plates and put away the leftovers.”

“Yay!” Bethany cheered.

“Wait!” Anna said. She reached for a small bowl full of cellophane wrapped fortune cookies. “It’s a birthday tradition, you know. Choose a cookie.”

“We all have to go around and read our fortunes out loud,” Killian explained.

“Oh,” Emma said with a nod as she reached into the bowl as it was passed to her.

“Birthday girl first!” Anna squealed, then broke open her cookie. She read it silently, then burst out laughing. “A great change is coming your way.”

Everyone laughed along with her, and Elsa quipped, “Believe me, you have lots of changes in your future, most of them smelly ones. Right, Emma?”

“Okay,” Anna said, rubbing her hands together gleefully, “I choose Killian to go next.” She exchanged a delighted glance with her sister then added in a sing-song voice, “I hope it’s a good one!”

Killian just shook his head at the teasing as he cracked open his fortune cookie. As he read the tiny slip of paper, however, the blood seemed to drain from his face, and his eyes widened considerably. He just sat there for a long moment, staring at it.

“Well,” Anna pressed, leaning across the table and craning her neck to try to see his fortune, “what does it say?”

“Nothing,” Killian said with a shake of his head, “just your generic good luck sentiment, you know.”

“Killian,” Elsa admonished with a narrowing of her eyes, “that’s not how the tradition works and you know it. Read the fortune, Jones.”

Killian swallowed as red crept up his neck. Then he cleared his throat and read, “Kiss the person to your right.”

Every pair of eyes at the table swiveled towards Emma. Except Killian, who stared down at his plate.

“No way!” Kristoff argued. “It doesn’t say that. Let me see!”

He reached across the table and snatched the fortune. Upon reading it, he handed it to his wife. Her jaw dropped.

“That’s really what it says!”

The fortune was passed around until it got to Emma. Sure enough, Killian wasn’t making it up. Emma’s face burned as she slid the paper over to Killian, their fingertips brushing. She ever so slowly lifted her gaze to his. He gave her a sheepish smile and an apologetic shrug.

“Well, kiss her!” Anna insisted. Her sister and her husband added their encouragement as well.

Emma could see that Killian was conflicted. So she arched a brow and gave him a flirty smile as she said, “Well, how about it? You gonna kiss me or just sit there?”

There was a combination of cheering and clapping from the others, even Bethany and Henry, though they probably had no idea what was going on. Killian chuckled and ducked his head, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. Then his eyes met hers again, and he leaned towards her. But just before his lips could connect with hers, he changed his angle and brushed them across her cheek instead. Emma was simultaneously disappointed and amazed at how that simple brush of his lips sent a thrill all the way to the core of her. A groan resounded from the others but Emma gave him a tender smile. Though part of her wanted him to kiss her properly, she knew it would have been awkward with everyone, including her three year old watching. He reached out with his thumb and brushed it across the dimple in her chin. It was only a quick, light touch, but it made her heart flip anyway.

*************************************************

After the fortune cookies, Kristoff and Killian got a bonfire going in the backyard, and everyone gathered around to roast marshmallows. There was also a chocolate cake for Anna’s birthday. Both Kristoff and Killian could play the guitar, and Elsa was an amazing singer. Emma had never heard a better rendition of the birthday song. Then the guys took requests, readily singing and playing whatever was thrown their way, even the PJ Masks theme song (as requested by Henry and Bethany, of course). It showed what good uncles they both were to Bethany that the men already knew all the words.

Now Henry was asleep in Killian’s arms as he walked them to her yellow bug. He gently placed the child in his car seat, and Emma’s heart ached in her chest as Killian smoothed her son’s hair across his forehead. Emma put her hand in her pocket and fingered the fortune she had gotten: When fate gives you a sign, leap.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked as Killian stood and gently shut the car door.

“Sure.”

“Was that kiss really the best that you could do?” her mouth turned up flirtatiously as she said it.

A slow smile filled Killian’s face as well. He sauntered into her personal space as he answered. “Perhaps I was worried that you couldn’t handle it.”

Emma tilted her head as she bit her lower lip. She saw Killian’s eyes drift to stare at that spot, his pupils dilating. “Maybe you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

He pounced on her so suddenly, that Emma let out a yelp. It was quickly swallowed up, however, by his mouth on hers. The kiss was deep and aggressive, and it caused Emma to lose her balance. Killian cupped her cheek with one hand and steadied her at the waist with the other. He turned her slightly to pin her between the bug and his body. Emma snaked her arms up his chest and then grasped the back of his head with both hands. It was his turn now as she kissed him back with ferocity, a groan escaping from his throat.

When they finally parted, panting, they were both wobbling slightly and disoriented. They pressed their foreheads together to steady themselves.

“Now that,” Emma gasped, “was a kiss.”

He chuckled, brushing both of her cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped her face. He bent down to kiss her again, this one slow and languid. His fingers drifted to her hair, tangling there and tugging slightly. It took every ounce of willpower Emma had to push him away, and even then she chased his lips, brushing them chastely before reaching behind her and grasping the door handle.

“Good night,” she told him as she opened the car door.

“Wait …” he said, looking completely wrecked by their kisses.

Emma put two fingers to his lips to stop his words, then with her other hand, she pressed a tiny slip of paper into his palm. Then she quickly entered the bug, started the car, and drove away. She glanced in her rearview mirror only once to see him standing in the street, staring down at that tiny bit of paper. She tore her gaze away as she turned at the next stop sign.

Suddenly, her cell phone started ringing. Emma picked it up and grinned broadly to see an unknown number flashing on the screen. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath so that when she answered, she sounded calm.

“Hello.”

“You know, a lesser man might think you were teasing, Swan. Writing your number on such an itty bitty piece of paper.”

“Well,” Emma teased back, “I wanted you to work for it.”

“When can I see you again?”

The timbre of Killian’s voice when he asked the question sent a shiver down Emma’s spine.

“When are you available?”

“Well, we’ve already been on a hayride, solved a corn maze, been to a pumpkin patch, and had a bonfire. How about we continue the fall clichés and carve said pumpkins together? Could you and Henry be here tomorrow afternoon? Or do you work Sundays?”

Emma didn’t know what touched her more; that he wanted to see her again so soon, that he was including Henry, or that he had chosen a casual activity. It took her so long to get herself together, that Killian got nervous waiting on the other end.

“Swan, you still there?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, sorry. I was just … thinking that tomorrow is perfect.”

Over the next few weeks, Killian insisted that they check off every fall tradition together. In addition to carving pumpkins, they watched a Storybrooke High football game cuddled underneath a fuzzy blanket, jumped into a pile of leaves, bobbed for apples at the Storybrooke Fall Festival, and took Henry and Bethany trick or treating. By the time Emma found herself gathered around the dining room table once again for Thanksgiving with Killian’s family, she had decided one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Fall was definitely her favorite season.

#ffcs 2018 #fallforcs #fall for captain swan #blinddate with a fanfic #cs ff #cs au #searchingwardrobes #hayrides fate and fortune cookies

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years ago

Text

World’s Best Baba

(M’Baku x Black OC)

Plot: The family takes a holiday in the States and on the itinerary is a trip to the zoo. The kids have fun in the day, but once night falls, the adults start to play!

A/N: This is my submission to @muse-of-mbaku‘s M’Baku’s Mistresses Fic Fest! I hope this suffices; as usual I type WAY more than I meant to, so grab a snack and settle in! This is my first Black Panther Papa story and original character fic, so excuse if there are some ‘yous’ where there should ‘hers’ etc. Thank you again, ms. muse for allowing my hand at this. You are appreciated!

Word Count: 7.2K

Warnings: The Holy Trinity - Fluff, Angst, and [kids cover ya ears: Smut]

Translations:

Ọmọbinrin = daughter Molo = Good Day ife mi = my love

Umyeni = husband Ikaka = shit Umfazi = wife Entle = beautiful

“Today is the day!! Everybody up!!” M’Baku bellowed throughout the hall outside of his kids’ rooms.

The children ran out on cue to tackle their father at his knees. The 5 year old twin boys, Mayowa and Mabayoje, clung to his calves.

“I got you, Baba!!” Mayowa exclaimed.

“You can’t move now!!” Mabayoje said with a giggle fit.

M’Baku gave a hearty chuckle at their efforts. “Oh no! I have been overrun by little people from the Wayward Forest. What ever will I do?” M’Baku says with a dramatic sigh.

“Give up! And let us have all the cookies!” Mayowa reasoned. M’Baku felt his little jaws trying to bite down on his thick leg, which tickled more than anything.

Mabayoje added on, “And the ice cream, Baba!” His little fists punch at M’Baku’s thigh.

M’Baku lifts the leg with Mayowa, causing him to squeal.

He lifts Mabayoje on the other leg. “Agghhh!! No, Baba!! You can’t move! You’re cheating!”

“BABA!” a third voice squeaks from behind them. “Baba! Get your BUTT!! DOWN!! HERE!!” M’Baku turns to see his third child, a three year old baby girl named Monife standing with her hands crossed in front of her Doc McStuffins pink pajamas. She did not look amused.

M’Baku looks down at the boys to say with Shakespearean cadence, “Your sister is overtaking my body with her mind powers.” He lifts his legs one by one as the boys scream with glee. “I am not shackled to your demands, for she beckons my assistance. Therefore…” he picks each boy off of him by the backs of their shirts.

“AGGGHH!! Baba! No! Not the dragons!!” They say in perfect unison.

M’Baku looks at them with dramatized sorrow, “My sons, I must feed you to the fire-breathing beasts. I will always love you, but our time must end.” M’Baku heaves them over on their beds, making them bounce a couple times, giggling to the point of breathlessness. It’s the only time they can get airborne on the bed without a stern warning.

M’Baku exhales deeply; he wasn’t tired but their little energies so early in the morning was a lot. He went over to their closets and picked out a couple of outfits. “Ok, boys. Fix your beds, brush your teeth.”

“Hmph!” M’Baku looks to the door of the boys bedroom to see Monife tapping her foot. “Baba!”

M’Baku acknowledges his daughter, “Ok, Monife, hang on.”

“Babaaa!!” Monife mewls.

M’Baku sighs, “Coming, ọmọbinrin. Boys, do as I said.” He commands one last time to the dueling twins before leading his baby girl to the bathroom.

She stands on a stool in front of the sink, handing her father the comb. “Ok, Baba. Can you do braids?”

M’Baku takes the comb and a leave-in spray to condition her tresses. “Ohhh, Baba has not got that down just yet, I think.” M’Baku looks at his daughter in the mirror as she screws her face up with slight disappointment.

“That’s ok Baba, we can practice again later.” Monife says with the maturity of someone five times her age.

M’Baku works through her soft coils, detangling the kinks as with a soft hand he has learned to adopt since having children. He was so proud of every single one of them, but as big of a surprise the twins were to introduce them to parenting, his daughter was an even bigger adjustment. She was a Jabari through and through. Her brothers fell into her command as soon as she entered their world. Monife does not let them or anyone gang up on her when she felt she was right; this was a spot of pride and strife for M’Baku and his wife. But she taught you patience and how to think before speaking so that there was an understanding on why things must be the way they are from chores to snack options to bed times.

“How about a little puff puff, eh? I can put your little beaded band around it, let your little curls fall by your ears and neck, and it would be cute, right?” M’Baku says in an octave only reserved for her.

She drums her fingers on the sink thoughtfully, “Ok Baba. It will be easy for you I think.” she says with a smile that makes her eyes close up.

M’Baku shakes his head at the slight shade from his child as he goes to work.

---

Ifelewa stood in front of the mirror of the master bathroom surveying her reflection. She woke up this morning not feeling so good, but was able to hide her ailment until M’Baku kissed her good morning before he got the children up for the day. She felt the same way on the plane ride over to the States but that was easy to blame on the turbulence of the plane. This was supposed to be a fun filled holiday from home, but now she felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Her period was over a week late; she didn’t track it religiously but she knew the estimates were off. The stick sat on the edge of the bathroom sink as she moisturized to pass the time waiting. She had her twist out taken down and fluffed out her curls when she glimpsed the results.

As she picks up the stick, Ifelewa hears her daughter beckoning her father to do their morning routine. She felt her heart pound as the results came back positive; she had to sit down on the toilet to keep her head from spinning. Ifelewa had not discussed having more children with M’Baku before now but here it is, straight from Hanuman. Ifelewa prayed, thanking Hanuman first for the blessing, as children were always to be seen as such. She also prayed for guidance: how should this be announced? Did M’Baku have the will for more children? What if it is twins again? Ifelewa recalls her first pregnancy, so happy to be carrying two babies but they left her swollen and acne riddled and throwing up almost the whole pregnancy. Monife was easier, but she required bed rest the last 6 weeks because she was too eager to arrive.

Ifelewa felt her belly, nothing particularly different yet, but it certainly was. A new life between her and M’Baku to grow. She chuckled to herself as she imagines pinpointing exactly when the conception probably occurred. When they were able to get a babysitter, they do not waste time to catch up on romance.

With a sigh, Ifelewa resumes getting prepped and dressed before heading downstairs to cook for her brood.

Just as she is finishing up the waffles, she hears the stampede of little footsteps spilling into the kitchen.

“Molo, Mama!” The boys answered in unison before pushing each other over to fight over one seat.

“Aye aye aye!! We have more chairs, move over!” She commands of the twins.

Mayowa sticks his tongue out at Mabayoje as he claims the coveted seat. M’Baku finally comes down, hand in hand with Monife before picking her up and setting her down at the table.

“Molo, ife mi.” M’Baku coos in Ifelewa’s ear as he slides his hand around the side, over her belly, causing her to jump.

Ifelewa laughs it off, “Good morning to you too, umyeni. Did you sleep well?”

M’Baku takes plates of eggs, fruit and toasted bread on the table; fixing up the children’s plates. “Like a rock. This is a very nice place we picked out to stay in.”

Ifelewa rolled her eyes as she turned off the waffle maker to lift out the last waffle on a plate. “‘We’? You were ready to have us living in someone’s fancied up garage before I changed the price range…” Ifelewa sets the waffles on the table,leaning on Monife’s chair with her hand on her hip, glaring at M’Baku. “Cheap does not get you very far, M’Baku, how many times must I say?”

M’Baku takes a strawberry from the bowl of fruit, chewing it thoughtfully. “You say cheap, I say financially conscious.” He comes over to her, laying a hand on the side of her face. “You have always been the brains of the operation, and I thank Hanuman for it because I think our children just might make it off of your genes alone.” Ifelewa laughs. M’Baku does not naturally self-deprecate but he knew his woman made him more of a man than he ever could achieve by himself, and he never let Ifelewa forget that.

Ifelewa sighs, looking at her husband deep into his round, enchanting eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or his soft expression, but the wave of love that came over Ifelewa for her husband warmed her all over; the same feeling that guaranteed your surety of carrying his children. She turns to kiss the palm of his hand, causing a low growl from the back of his throat. Taking her chin he kisses her longingly, deliberately.

“EWWWWW!! Can you be done already?” Mayowa exclaims with a disgusted expression, Mabayoje covers his eyes groaning.

Monife misses everything as they were standing behind her. She looks up at the both of them, “What you doing? Sit down and eat!” says their little general.

Ifelewa and M’Baku break from their kiss in laughter. The kids were never for the PDA, as M’Baku rounds the table with sloppy kisses for each children’s cheeks, creating a chorus of yucks and little hands swiping away at his face.

Sitting down to enjoy breakfast, Ifelewa admires M’Baku as he talks to each child equally holding the attention of each as they gab about what they were excited to do today. Ifelewa rubs her stomach again as she stabs at her eggs trying to eat to keep her strength up, but anxiety was fighting her appetite. Thinking of a fourth child joining the table gave her absolute joy: Would this one look more like her or M’Baku? Would Monife want a little sister or remain the solo star? M’Baku catches her staring at him and he flashes his gap toothed before reminding the children to finish their meals. Ifelewa could not wait to tell him the news, she just hoped he was ready.

“Ok! Yowa, Yoje, Fefe, are we ready to go to the zoo??” Ifelewa stands, announcing the event with a flourish.

“YEAH!!” The children exclaim.

“Well then. Let’s go to the car, we haven’t got all day!” she says, gleaming as they all get up excitedly to make it to the front door.

On the road, M’Baku at the wheel puts one hand on Ifelewa’s leg. “Is everything ok, ife mi? You haven’t seemed completely yourself this morning.” He looks to her with his brow furrowed in concern.

She sighs as she fans herself, “I have just got to get used to the American air. It is so thick and humid. My hair is growing by the minute.” Ifelewa complains as she looks in the visor at her twist out as it slowly loses definition.

“Mama!! Your hair reminds me of a plant! It’s so, whooosh!” Monife demonstrates with her hands the volume of her mom’s hair.

M’Baku clears his throat looking in the rearview, “And a beautiful plant it is, right Fefe?”

Monife nods, “Yeah! It like mine! Mine is a pot plant, Mama’s is free!” Monife bobs her head back and forth to the car tunes as she stares out the window.

“Aww, that’s sweet, my smart, little flower pot baby!!” Ifelewa looks back at her baby girl in her jean shorts and tie dye ruffle top. She looks just like her mother, but has all of her dad for the rest.

“You did a good job with her hair, Baku. You’re a natural at it now.” Ifelewa says as she peers at her husband.

M’Baku shrugs, “It wasn’t the original plan but it was something we could agree on.” M’Baku smirks as he glances at Ifelewa again. “And then I get to look at a masterpiece for a partner every day. I am a lucky man.”

Ifelewa grins, feeling that warmth all over her again before hearing a slap in the backseat, followed by a cry from Mayowa.

“Mamaaaa!! Mabayoje smacked meeeee!!” The eldest twin cried with despair.

M’Baku speaks with his fatherly tone, “Mabayoje…..”

“But Baba! He has been mean all day-”

“If you do not have patience with you brother, how can you have patience for anyone else in the world? You cannot keep sparring to settle agreements, you must learn to control your emotions!” Ifelewa says to her sons sternly.

As Mayowa sniffs and wipes his tears, Mabayoje stews with his arms crossed. “Ikaka.”

“AYE!” M’Baku and Ifelewa bark in unison.

“Where do you go around saying that word?” Ifelewa inquires.

“Baba says it a lot when he messes up or stubs his toe.” Mabayoje says into his hand as he bites his fingernails.

Ifelewa looks at M’Baku swiftly who keeps his eyes on the road. “Ohh, look! We have arrived!! Children, if you behave, we can forget about this whole situation, no punishments!” The children cheer as he parks.

Ifelewa looks at him like he is crazy. “NO PUNISHMENTS? M’Baku, they can’t learn from their ways without-”

“Everybody out! We might beat the afternoon crowd!” M’Baku gets out of the car to unbuckle his baby girl.

With the children walking hand in hand, Ifelewa presses M’Baku, “You have to control your tongue more around the children. They will repeat everything you say, even when you think they aren’t listening.”

M’Baku sighs, “Come on, I am not perfect. And besides, we are on holiday. We can loosen the reigns a little until we get back.”

Ifelewa walked heavily in annoyance. She did not enjoy being undermined in front of the children either.

M’baku reads the silence, whispering to her, “I am sorry if I ran over your foot back there. I just want the kids to have as much fun as possible, and to save myself from a good scolding.”

She rolled her eyes. M’Baku was not too bad at gauging her feelings and hit it on the nose yet again. “I was not going to scold you, just heed your words? Please?”

M’Baku looks at you, biting his lips, “Will you beg some more if I continue to act out, umfazi?”

She rolls her eyes, “Concentrate on the admission, eh?”

M’Baku drops the hands of Monife and Mabayoje to get out his wallet. “My mind is already set, entle. Just be prepared once the kids are down for bedtime.”

“No!! We don’t want to go to bed!!” Monife protests, overhearing her father.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart. We will be up for a long time before then. Your father is kidding, we will stay up as late as we want! We are on holiday after all!” Ifelewa says excitedly, earning cheers from the children as the shuffle through the turnstiles. She looks back at a hurt looking M’Baku, shrugging without care as she switches a little extra to show what he would be missing. M’Baku calls the shots naturally so, but he knew the true boss in their marriage, especially when it came to sex.

Once they made it inside the zoo, the family walks around admiring the wildlife that there was to offer. The lions were lazy as usual, basking in the sunlight; this didn’t stop the little ones from making faces and giving their best roars.

Monife loved the flamingo exhibit. “They look so pretty Baba! Pick me up! I can’t see!!” M’Baku obliged, holding her close while pointing at them and telling her all about them. Ifelewa stood back a bit, suddenly tired from the trek around. Seeing M’Baku hold their littlest creation made her heart flutter. The thing she loved most about him was how soft and caring he was despite his ferocity with the Jabari and any enemies he comes across. Monife looked so tiny in his arms but it was M’Baku who shrank in her presence.

“Mama! Do they have monkeys here?” Mayowa asks excitedly.

Ifelewa nods, “Of course! Monkeys and much more! Come on! Mabayoje! Get down from there, let’s go!” As the twins fell in line, M’Baku walks beside her with Monife still in his arms, playing in his beard hair.

There was a mix of animals along the way: monkeys, orangutans and last but not least, gorillas.

“Look! Look!” M’Baku points the group to the gorilla enclosure.

“Wooow!” Monife squirms out of M’Baku’s arms and the twins set off toward the glass and bang the living daylights on it.

“Ah ah! Stop it, oh! They can see you without noises, just look.” Ifelewa warns.

“Yes, Mama.” sang the children.

“Yowa! Yoje! Jabariiii!!!” Monife bellows.

The twins follow her lead to respond with a hoots and woofs, banging their little chests with their fists. “Wooo! Wooo! Wooo!”

Ifelewa laughs uncontrollably at the children’s antics, “M’Baku? Did you teach them that?”

M’Baku looks to her beaming with pride and shrugs, “They just learned it on their own from their father.” He walks up close to her. “Should I heed that behavior in front of the children as well?” M’Baku’s baritone threatens teasingly.

Ifelewa crosses her arms, “You know what I mean, Baku. Right now, I just want to heed a plate of some food, maybe a portobello burger...” she moans at just the thought of the swiss cheese and grilled mushroom top dancing on her taste buds.

He takes a deep breath holding her close while looking at the children. “I thought you didn’t like mushrooms, my love? That’s an odd request to make.”

Ifelewa freezes a moment. He was right, mushrooms are gross to her except when she is with child, she couldn’t get enough.

“Ah, just testing you! But I am still hungry though.” She could live without the portobello for now to keep the secret a little longer.

M’Baku squeezes her side, pecking her on the forehead before rounding up the children for a late lunch.

Ifelewa could not find any substantial pescatarian food to soothe her appetite (vegetation life like M’Baku wad not her style), instead opting for some fries and shaved ice.

M’Baku had packed some snacks for the group but Ifelewa did not feel like eating it. “Are you sure you don’t want something else? You sounded pretty starved earlier.” M’Baku inquires chomping on some red bell pepper slices.

She shrugs, “It’s fine. When we get home, I can get some dinner going.” Ifelewa couldn’t hide her exhaustion as she rubbed her feet.

M’Baku looked at his wife suspiciously as he wiped some cheese off of his son’s face. “Well, we can get ready to go now, for sure. We have seen plenty out here today, the skies look a little cloudy anyway.”

“But Baba! We didn’t get to see the tigers or panthers! They are my favorite!” Mayowa exclaimed sadly. M’Baku waves him off. “You only like them because of your Uncle T’Challa. The Gorilla’s are much more exciting. They came right up to you! The cats just lounge around.” M’Baku says giving a thumbs down motion.

“But-” before he could protest any more, the skies opened up as rain came crashing down.

“Whoa! Would you look at that, we have to go after all!” M’Baku gets up in Mayowa’s teasingly. “Ifelewa, I will bring the car around so sit tight.” M’Baku gives her a kiss before jogging out in the rain.

“I hope Baba doesn’t get washed away in the rain.” Mabayoje says looking worried.

Ifelewa pats his back as she watches the showers fall sharply to the ground. “No worries. It’s just like at the lake, right? Long as you stand up, you are fine.”

“And Baba is really tall, Yoje. He will be fine!” Monife encourages her brother.

“That’s right, intomba. Baba stands very tall and is very strong, so he is fine.” Ifelewa says and as if on cue, M’Baku rolls up outside of the restaurant with an umbrella to collect his family.

Once they got home, Ifelewa and M’Baku change the children out of their damp clothes before starting some dinner.

As Ifelewa cooked, M’Baku put on a movie for the children as he joins his wife in the kitchen.

“What do you need help with, entle. My hands are yours to direct.” He says wrapping his arm around her waist, kissing her cheek.

“Mmm, how about just chopping up the other vegetables over there? I’m mixing a vinaigrette and the pan should be hot to start sauteeing by the time you are done.” Ifelewa commands.

M’Baku reaches for a knife and begins to chop. “Did you enjoy the day?”

“Yes, I did. It was very fun to see the babies enjoying the animals and getting along.” Ifelewa looks back at M’Baku’s wide back as he chops. She loved the width of her husband, so attractive that there wasn't an ounce of scrawniness to him. She wipes her hands and comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around him. She feels M’Baku chuckle in his belly. “And you were the greatest help as usual. I don’t know what I would do without you being here.” Her voice hitches at the thought before she can stop herself. Mabayoje bringing up M’Baku getting caught up in the rain was hitting her all of a sudden. She had to just sit there with her children anticipating M’Baku’s return, but what if that was everyday?

M’Baku stops chopping to hold his wife’s hands against him as she buried her face in his back. “Where is your emotion coming from, ife mi?” He craned his neck to talk behind to her.

Ifelewa shakes her head, “I just thought about something Mabayoje was saying. You know how the kids can bring out so many emotions from me out of the blue.” She chuckles weakly as she wipes tears from her face. M’Baku turns around to hold his wife’s face in his all encompassing hands, his thumbs swipe at wayward tears. “I am right here, entle. No harm will come to me, Hanuman willing.”

She holds his wrist, “I don’t even want to think about it, for fear of bringing it to pass, but you help me so much with them, I am just spoiled.”

M’Baku brings his hands to her hips, pulling her against him. “If spoiling you is being a good father to my children and devoted partner to my wife, than so be it. But you brought our babies into this world with so much strength. Through sickness, false contractions, mood swings, bed confinement; I know why Hanuman gave us twins for your first pregnancy because we probably would have an only child right now otherwise.” Ifelewa chuckles. “But believe me when I say you are a most capable mother, right now and for whatever is ahead of us. You have made me the happiest man three times over, and I hope to be blessed even more.”

Ifelewa looked at him with wonder, digesting his last words. M’Baku loved her with all of his heart, his beautiful speech was nothing new of what he has said before. But having just found out she was pregnant, she was already feeling moody beyond control hence her irrational fear. But the new life inside of her was giving her cold feet concerning what they could handle. But luckily, she has a great man to give her reprieve.

Ifelewa smiles, shifting her weight anxiously. “I’m glad you said that, because-”

“Mama! Baba! Something smells funny!” Monife yells from the living room.

Ifelewa turns to the stove to take the hot skillet with burnt oil off the stove. “Ikaka!” she curses, wiping her brow in frustration.

“Ohhh, Mama said a bad worrrrd!” Mabayoje taunts, giggling at his mother.

M’Baku shoots him a look that shuts down any further foolishness. M’Baku lays a hand on her lower back, speaking softly. “Iffie, let me finish up here. You go sit with the children.”

“I can handle it, I should do it.” Ifelewa persists taking the skillet to clean.

M’Baku finesses it out of her hands to set it on the counter. He plants his hands on her hips to guide her out of the kitchen to the living room. “Don’t make that face, you want to treat me to be the man of the house? Then I am telling you to sit down, and elevate your feet.” She plops down on the couch shaking her head with a smile. M’Baku leans into her ear, “And I don’t want any lip about it.” He full mouth grazes her ear lobe before returning to finish cooking up dinner. Her babies mill around her, resting their heads on her body to snuggle up for the rest of the movie. Ifelewa looks back in the kitchen again as M’Baku is concentrated on mixing up ingredients, tasting his concoctions, working his hips as he jiggles the skillet around. She turns back to the TV, hugging her babies close to her, staring at their deep melanin tones, soft curls, little extremities getting longer by the day. Looking to her belly she whispers, “We love you very much. So, so much. Keep growing big and strong.” Ifelewa stared listlessly at the TV screen until her vision blurred, drifting off to sleep.

When she woke up, she was on the couch still but the TV was off and outside was dark, still rainy. She infers that M’Baku rounded the kids up to bed, falling asleep himself. Ifelewa gets up to walk out on the patio, hugging herself as the rain drills down to the ground. She always found peace in the sounds of rain, the cloudiness putting her at ease. People always looked at her crazy when she would say the day was beautiful and was not joking. Light storming never annoyed her one bit; it was like a shower for the earth and the plants look extra beautiful afterwards.

She steps a toe out, letting the drops coat her foot. She follows with a hand out, collecting some in her hand.

Ifelewa feels pressure on her shoulder as her peripheral catches her husbands face resting on her shoulder, making her jump.

“Oh M’Baku! Why are you so quiet when you walk around? You are like a bumblebee: what you can do just doesn’t make sense to your physical make up.”

“Bzzz Bzzz!” M’Baku lifts Ifelewa in the air carrying her out in the rain with a spin.

“Agghhh!! Put me down!!” Ifelewa shrieks as she hides her face, unable to barrage of drops dampening her and M’Baku. He brings them back under the overhang of the patio, freeing Ifelewa to attack him with slaps on his body. “Where do you get off doing that? Huh! How dare you!”

M’Baku brings his arms up to protect himself, laughing the whole time, “What? You seemed on your way out there, I was just helping you get a little wet!”

Ifelewa pushes him, still stewing. “You are so immature sometimes! I woke up comfortable, now I have to change clothes!”

M’Baku gets a hold of her wrists, pushing her up against the wall. He says through his teeth. “The children are sleeping...keep your voice down.”

M’Baku and Ifelewa stare each other down, only their breath and the storm behind them fill their silence.

“They ate dinner?” she asks. M’Baku nods. “They took their baths?” M’Baku nods, freeing her wrists to run his hands down her arms and body. “What about my plate?”

M’Baku brings his lips to her neck softly grazing her clavicle, “It’s in the oven, wrapped up for you.”

Ifelewa clears her throat as her husband’s supple lips travel across her chest, creating goosebumps, while his hands reach around to grip and pull at the flesh of her ass. “I am not amused, M’Baku. I’m cold, I’m wet-”

M’Baku takes his hands up under her shirt, making Ifelewa shiver from his brazen behavior. His hands cup her breast, thumbing over her already protruding nipples. His eyes are darkened with desire. “Well if you are cold, I can change that. But the wetness might get worse before you are truly relieved.”

Ifelewa lets out a sharp gasp, arching against his touch. She reaches her hands behind his head, scratching his scalp. “I can’t stand you right now.” she moans.

M’Baku brings his mouth to Ifelewa’s, letting their tongues do the fighting. Ifelewa grinds her hips against M’Baku’s, cultivating his growth which elicits a moan from deep within him. M’Baku made all of her worries melt away with ease as his hands reached to bring her thighs up around his waist.

“Wait! Wait! I can’t, not out here!” Ifelewa whines, whilst involuntarily locking her legs up around him.

M’Baku sneers as he pulls her underwear to the side, looking down at her in marvelous wonder. “I can’t let this juice go to waste, my love. I prefer fresh squeezed.” He takes his hand between her legs as she grip his shoulders, bracing for impact.

Ifelewa whimpers as M’Baku slowly plunges two thick fingers within her center. M’Baku finds her G-spot without much searching as she confirm his findings with a pleasured moan.

“Do you like me feeling you inside, entle?” M’Baku says deeply, his voice coated in sensuality.

She rests her head against the wall as she feels a wave coming on, nodding vehemently, “Uh-huh…”

M’Baku pumps his fingers within her walls looking deeply into her eyes, getting off on her tortured expression. “You are making a mess of my hand, my love. Are you trying to get me back for the rain?”

She tries to avoid his gaze by looking at the weather outside to distract from her pending orgasm. Breathless, she says, “No, you can’t blame me. You started it.”

M’Baku takes her chin to force her to look at him. “And I plan to finish. But you will need to work for it, Iffie.”

Looking into M’Baku’s eyes, his forehead wrinkled in concentration of her, and his thumb now working her clit like a joystick, Ifelewa locks her legs and arms onto M’Baku to ride his knuckles as she chokes on her climax. M’Baku feels her clenching around him and pumps her canal to help drive out her orgasm a little more.

M’Baku watches her face stretch as she whines and curses him for what he has done. He snuggles into her neck, sucking it, breathing into her skin to drive her absolutely mad. Ifelewa bites into his shoulder to keep from waking the whole neighborhood.

M’Baku finally finishes with her, pulling out his fingers from her, making her body jolt from sensitivity. She slowly brings her legs down from him to stand, but he wisely holds her close or she were sure to stumble. She rests her head against his shoulder, catching her breath, but feeling light enough to fly. She sees him surveying his hand, “You see all of that you did?”

She hides her face in his chest with embarrassment, “Please, don’t make me blush. You are always playing.”

M’Baku looks over his shining hand, covered in her love as he gives it a taste, groaning with satisfaction. “Mm, just the dessert I needed.”

Ifelewa feels turned on all over again as she looks up at M’Baku starry eyed. “I hope you don’t think we are done here…” as she traces his erection through his pants.

M’Baku shrugs, pretending like it is nothing, “I thought you were too tired, or hungry-”

She puts a finger to his lips, “You know better than to argue with me. Come on.”

They make it back inside, kissing each other like first love teenagers as they claw at each others clothing.

“Baba?”

M’Baku and Ifelewa break like children caught in the wrong as little Monife rubs her eye sleepily.

“Yes, Fefe. What are you doing up?” M’Baku says covering himself until he simmered down.

“The thunder outside woke me up. I got scared.”

M’Baku and Ifelewa looked at one another hoping it was just thunder she heard. “It’s ok sweetie. I will tuck you in. How about a story?” M’Baku goes to walk her upstairs.

“M’Baku! Maybe wash your hands….after being outside….” Ifelewa tries to discreetly signal for his to clean up after their romp.

M’Baku nods as the lightbulb in his head goes off, “Right! Fefe, hang on while Baba rinses a little. You know how we have to clean up after being outside.”

Once M’Baku finally gets Monife upstairs, Ifelewa takes advantage of the plate waiting on her in the oven. M’Baku did a pretty good job as she finally gets a substantial meal in her belly. Ifelewa rubs her tummy for good measure, dreaming of the life growing within her being healthy and strong. She planned to tell M’Baku probably in the morning, since it may be a mood killer if they continue their romancing tonight: she didn't want him holding back.

Putting away her plate, Ifelewa makes her way upstairs to peek in Monife’s room. M’Baku had Monife laying on him instead of the bed, since his size prevented them from laying side by side on her toddler bed. M’Baku read from storybook as Monife lightly snored against his chest. Ifelewa’s heart swelled at his attentiveness with his children. She would’ve put the book down as soon as the children stilled to rest, but M’Baku swears that they never stay asleep until the story is finished, even if they sleep part of the way in.

Ifelewa goes in their bedroom, stretching as she slowly feels overcome with sleep. She begins to strip her clothes off to get ready for bed. While finding a shirt, she hears the door open and clothes behind her.

Looking behind she sees M’Baku standing against the door, grinning hard.

Ifelewa shakes her head continuing to look for a bed shirt. “That little girl has you wrapped around her finger. What are you grinning about?”

M’Baku’s footsteps fall behind you as you hear clothing drop to the floor. “And not long ago I had you wrapped around mine…..When were you going to tell me?”

Ifelewa’s heart picks up pace in her chest. “What do you mean?” She turns to see M’Baku sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed, stark nude.

M’Baku looks up at her confused, “My love, are you trying to hide it?”

She leans on the dresser, taking a breath, “No, never. I wanted to tell you in the morning, but….how did you know?”

M’Baku leans on his knees looking ahead. “I wondered about it today. You have been excited about this trip for months, but you have been the least excited since we have been here. Tired, emotional, the works.”

Ifelewa looks to M’Baku empathetically as she began to sit next to him on the bench. M’Baku blocks her path, beckoning her to sit on his lap. Ifelewa takes her place on his ample thighs.

M’Baku rests a hand on her hips, and another across her legs as Ifelewa hugs his shoulders. “You also tasted different.”

Ifelewa’s mouth dropped open at that comment. “Well I don’t know how to take that information!”

M’Baku laughs, “It’s not bad. You are sweeter, I noticed. It may be due to what you crave while pregnant, but it’s noticeable.”

“That reminds me; you didn’t eat all of the strawberries, did you?” Ifelewa asked. Those were a particular strong craving of hers.

“No, and I’ll get you as many as you need. And if you want a portobello burger, I can get that for you.” M’Baku takes his hand to her stomach, rubbing it gently.

Ifelewa rests a hand over his, “Ugh, I really wanted one too.”

M’Baku chuckles, “You are so silly to try and be sneaky, you missed out on a good meal. I saw your test in the bathroom earlier as well.”

“My goodness, M’Baku, you found everything!” She exclaimed.

M’Baku shrugs looking up at his wife eyes widened and glistening, “A husband always knows, but that confirmed it. Are you happy?”

Ifelewa gripped around his neck tighter, beaming. “Ecstatic! I just hoped you would be happy. I know the three we have can be a lot to handle on their own.”

“I lead an army of men on a regular basis. Trust me, the children are easier. And this one will be a welcome addition.”

Ifelewa rubbed her hands across her husband’s hair, bringing her forehead to his. “Hanuman, bless this child. Let them come into this world, healthy, strong. Let them learn compassion, refrain from ignorance, for they are already loved unconditionally.” M’Baku prays between them before letting his lips meet hers. Ifelewa deepens the kiss, suddenly needing all of her husband at that moment. She feels him becoming excited beneath her legs; M’Baku parts her legs to feel her vulva slickening.

“Uh uh. You will not lead this again.” Ifelewa takes M’Baku’s hand away to straddle his lap. M’Baku smiles broadly at his wife taking charge, as she snakes her hand down beneath her, touching him. The tip of his dick is wet with precum as she takes her fingers to spread it down his shaft. M’Baku’s head leans back, surrendering to her hand as his hips buck up. His hands traverse her thighs, making it up to her ass, giving it a hearty smack.

Ifelewa yelps out, licking her lips. “Ohh, are you growing impatient, Baku?”

M’Baku looks over her body, snaking his hand up the nape of her neck. “I just want to see that pretty pussy over yours at work, is all. I know it’s ready.”

M’Baku wasn’t lying there, as Ifelewa’s walls clenched at the very mention of them. Instead, Ifelewa drug his tip around the perimeter of her opening. “How does that work for you?”

She felt M’Baku’s resistance, trying to move things along. “My love, why do you tease me? Do you see what this does to me? I’m going to go insane.” M’Baku did look desperate as his breathing became labored, taking one of her breasts into his mouth hungrily. Ifelewa loses her train of thought, losing get grip on his dick to hold onto M’Baku’s head, clawing at his hair as he lapped at your nipples. His tongue encircled her areola as he grabbed her hips to grind against his dick. Ifelewa arched into him as her clit receives stimulation from the friction, coupled with the arousal produced by his mouth on her tit, Ifelewa was almost there.

Just as M’Baku sucked just about her total essence out from her, he found a chance to ease his dick inside of her begging entrance. Ifelewa let out a gasp as he stretched her out, slowly, agonizingly.

“Ah, Baku, please…” Ifelewa whines.

M’Baku comes off of her tit looking smug. “Are you begging again?”

She nods, “Please, I want you to move.”

“I’m not sure, you are so tight. Are you close?” M’Baku whispers, biting his lip as he pushes further into her.

Ifelewa nods, “I’m afraid so.”

“Ohhh, so impatient we are.” M’Baku tosses the remark right back at her as he leans back, inching a little off of the bench, before beginning his rhythm into her.

Ifelewa leans on M’Baku’s chest as his hips cause her to bounce against him, intensifying the wave of pleasure within her sex.

The applause of their skin against each other brought her over the edge as her nails dug into his skin.

“That’s it, entle, let yourself go on me. I can take it.” M’Baku encouraged her as he plunged balls deep, working her hips to stimulate her clit again.

Ifelewa was almost near tears, gripping breasts for sanity. “Baku, you’re so deep. I’m already pregnant, remember?”

This sparked something in M’Baku as he gave her behind a slap once more. “Come up here.”

Breathless, Ifelewa follows his instructions, crawling up his body until her thighs became his earmuffs. M’Baku growled low from underneath her. “Ahh, look at that pretty pussy.” He gives it healthy lick. “Wet just for me.” He spreads her lips wider, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I see it talking, baby. I hear you.” M’Baku then plunges his stiffened tongue into her entrance, tongue fucking her without abandon. Ifelewa’s thighs seize up at the overstimulation of her sensitivity, bowing down on her hands and knees, unable to straighten out her body from all the arousal.

M’Baku hums into her vulva, sending vibration between her lips as he sucks her off.

“I’m cu-cu-ohhh!!” Ifelewa couldn’t get it out, but her moans said it all.

“Yes, my girl. Cum on my face for me.” M’Baku says encouragingly, shaking her ass cheeks as he shakes his head into her vulva with aroused enthusiasm.

M’Baku leaves her cunt a moment, giving Ifelewa what she thought was a chance to breathe, as she begins to collapse to the bed.

“Uh, uh! Leave your ass in the air for me.” M’Baku commands. Ifelewa stays face down, ass up as she looks behind at M’Baku stroking his impressive girth in his hands. Looking over her back end with a tantalizing appetite, he says, “Your pussy is so beautiful covered in cream. Go ahead and rub it in.”

Ifelewa reaches her hand to feel the wetness of her cunt as she plays with her pussy, rubbing all of their love concoction into her vulva. The stimulation makes her legs shake involuntarily, “Like this?” she asks.

M’Baku’s hand rests on the small of her back as he groans with approval. “Yesss, just like that, entle. Keep doing it, I want you to cum on me one more time for me.”

Ifelewa maintains a circular motion on her clit as M’Baku dives into her pussy once more, sending her body into shock as he strokes within her faster now.

“Ahh. I can’t wait for you to have my baby.” M’Baku groans.

Ifelewa nods into the mattress, “I love carrying your baby.”

M’Baku grunts, hitting his hips into her cheeks faster. “And I love making them with you, ahh.”

Ifelewa grips the comforter as she feels her G spot getting activated, “Ohhh, please fill my pussy, Baku. I’m almost there!”

M’Baku grips her waist tightly as his stroke becomes more labored, “For Hanuman’s sake, you’re gripping me so tightly!”

Ifelewa got off right at that moment, “Ohh fuck! Baku, yes! Give it to me, that’s it!”

With Ifelewa’s encouragement, M’Baku laid her prone against the bed, resting his hand on hers as he busted inside of her, emptying every bit of his pent up seed within her walls. He groaned as his dick spazzed within her until he was wrung dry.

M’Baku peppered Ifelewa’s back with kisses. “I love you so much, umfazi. I don’t know if you understand how much.” M’Baku pulls out from her, laying next to her side, kissing her hand.

Ifelewa could barely open her eyes as her husband wore her down to dust. She felt high from his love, trying her best to concentrate, she nodded sleepily. “Mhm, I do. I have devoted my life to you, until death. And even then, I will love you.”

M’Baku rubs her back as her eyes close. “My wife, mother of my children, I am so grateful for you. I will make an appointment with the midwife so we can see her soon as-”

M’Baku stops talking once he hears her light snoring. He kisses her forehead, studying her face as she rests. “Sleep well, my love, and my littlest. May we remain prosperous.”

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

The Coffee Prince

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

If I Could Do It All Again

#SundaySweat

Song of Stevens

Signs of Rain

RagTag

@chaneajoyyy @afraiddreamingandloving @yaachtynoboat711 @theunsweetenedtruth @maliadestiny @syreanne @allhailnjadaka @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @great-neckpectations @bidibidibombaclaat

#mbakusmistressff #m'baku fanfic #fanfic #shakafic #m'baku x black oc #m'baku fluff #soft m'baku #m'baku smut

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dearmumnopeeking · 4 years ago

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Dear marnshun,

Its year 4.

Since ya left us.

Sorry for the late message.

Im just resting today. I decided to skip work.

For 2 days.

I watched some anime, satisfied my ghost hunt cravings.

I watched some new stuff too.

Its been 4 years. Papa and mummy are still trying hard bitch.

Sorry i didnt mean that ... we always miss ya but times have been hard.

Papa recently kinda lost his job.. or the term they used was "no classes this sem" for now.

He seems out of sorts and wanderless sometimes just watching dramas to pass time.

Mummy is super busy as crap. So covid is trying to kill both mummy and i with work.

The people don know how hard it is now as a public servant.... more like slave for mummy.

Me i deal with super ass shits who fucking litter and just can't stop so they pay the price.

I am gonna quit soon mainly cause of the work load, secondly cause of studies, and lastly cause i wanna work at the zoo.

Theres an opening and the position is for education executive.

Im down for that.

Im not down for anymore enforcement shit.. though satisfying and really important, i just feel super drained from all the work and other work load to come cause they refuse to hire more people to help out.

The job makes me feel so degraded like how come i cant finish and there is like no one to double check for me, more so when people/my manager throws me random shit to check for her while im rushing my own stuff.

Sorry to rant but you've been gone for 4 years and im still stuck here so hear me out bro.

Dude. Ive been rushing out the rescheduling shit for them and not once have i asked them for help cause they are like "sooo" busy... yet my manager just expects me to draft like a template for them or for the next person to take over when im drowning already.

I told her. Im fucking tired. I told her i try. But i did not accept all the fucking work from both of them.

The Director is right. They should rethink the job allocation cause it sucks.

I would like to see her try my job scope for once. Cause for the summons all she does is log and get the dir to approve. I have to fucking do all the attendance, enquiry trcking, enquiry recording, rescheduling, broadcasting of emails to RO managers for the events, chasing RO for the events, fucking check their work and send confirmation emails back, do the attendances and start to record those to summon, consecutively answering stupid shits enquiries good thing there were more appeals last month cause at least that how much i do every cycle and she still complains, listen to shit excuses and curses at me for not bring lenient and her yapping at the side "like why couldnt you say this...", then icare checks, eems check, then ml check then screenshots, extracting of notices and preparing for summons logging, and while all these are going on... imma have to track extensions revocations, record the masterlist, update the attendance again, filing stupid summons, record the summonses and send them then track them cause sometimes the court screw shit... or the other team forgets to record.... if our shit is seriously nonchalant and redundant.. i will quit cause i cant cope... even listing out the entirety of my scope is making have an anxiety attack now marnshun.

Why does she keep giving me shit to do?

I am going to tell her i will be leaving.

I am going to print out an official resignation letter to make this final.

Imma use my off days in my second last week cause imma be emailing my shit to hand over.

I learnt alot but this was too much. Call me weak but i almost killed myself in december last year 2020. Marnshun, i almost did. I was lucky to have kimetsu there for me... cause no one else was. You werent. But then again sometimes im really glad you don have to go thru what i and going thru now. Sometimes i miss you but you should hang out longer in heaven. Till covid is over.. or when the world decides to be more logical... so imna keep trying but i really do miss you.

Work sucks so help me haunt and curse all the offenders. Old ones like over 40 should die of heart attacks, just kill them bro... or imma have to curse them with some voodoo magic..

Younger ones 30 and below should have the worse nightmares till they get to finish their corrective work. I want you to gather your ghost friends those like suicide ones with lots of remorse and aggravation to freddy krugger their dreams everynight till they get to do their work..

Honestly... i have never prayed sooo fucking hard for some of these offenders to die.. like we have some preggies.. i don fucking care some part me hope like they get super fucked up births that they cant move or just permenant damage so that i don have to schedule them.

Thats how stress i am.

I am horrible but if i do get karma, im willing to go thru it for that momentary release from my job...

So imma quit this job.

Marnshun please assist yeab bro. If i snap one day, just bring me those who cursed on the phone at me so that i can strangle them to death.

At the moment... im dead serious... i have seen their identification cards.. i can memorize their address and commit murder any time.

So for now imma send you bro and your ghost fiends to haunt them please. You can get the address when you watch over me work yeah. Feel free to do so, cause i'd like to think that ya always looking out for me.

Happy death anniversary manrshun.

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turtle-inserts · 7 years ago

Text

Through Hell and Back (Donnie x Reader)

You've been through hell and back. Not only had you narrowly escaped the mutagen bomb, but you'd been taken prisoner in some sort of fucked up zoo that showcased all of the "unnatural" mutations plus one human, you. The other mutants ranged from globs of flesh to multiple limbed with protruding bones. Their cries were ghastly and would haunt you for the rest of your life. The screaming had almost never stopped, the poor things were in so much pain. The monsters that had caught you would parade you around from stronghold to stronghold, collecting water and gas as payment for the mutants to stare at you for a couple minutes, marveling at how you'd survived. Some began calling you "the finale" and the name stuck ever since. It The majority of the stronghold's residents had never seen a human, the typical lifespan tended to cut short when you live in a post-apocalyptic wasteland desert, and this made it so all original humans were either dead or getting close to it. You were a marvel to them, a trinket from an era long gone. You were the finale to that time period.

The only reason you had survived that night, was because of him. Donnie. He knew something big was coming, it had shown up on the scanners that night and being the most inexperienced of the group, he had made you stay in his lab with the doors locked. He made sure to kiss you goodbye and tell you he loved you before he left with his brothers in the shell-raiser. When the bomb had gone off, the entire lair shook, parts of the ceiling had come down and big chunks of debris could be heard hitting the door and at some point, one had come crashing onto your head. You weren't sure how long you were out but after you were conscious again you had yelled at him, hopeful he would show up, but instead you were met with silence. You had started to panic when green ooze dripped from what was at one point the ceiling. There was no way out and you knew that was mutagen. You weren't sure what had happened, but you knew it was bad.

You carefully avoided the nasty green nonsense and made your way to Donnie's invention storage. Quickly looking through you had found a laser that could slice through anything, a gas mask and some snacks. You had used the laser to cut through the debris and up onto the streets. You were met with desert, desert, and (you guessed it) more desert. The air was so toxic you could barely breathe, so you slipped on the gas mask and after taking in the emptiness around you, went back to the lab to grab more supplies and to have a mild panic attack. Once you had your shit together you had managed to rig together one of the guys old motorcycles and took off in search of other people who might need your help. After years of searching, you woefully concluded your family was dead, along with your friends. If they had faced the bomb head on, there was no hope for them.

You were younger when they caught you, at least mid-twenties. They found you while you were asleep in a gas station that had managed to survive the bombings and constant sandstorms. You were out cold; after managing to find drinkable water and non-expired food you chowed down then passed out within a minute from sheer exhaustion. When you felt their hands grab you, you had put up a fight, but one human versus 30-something wolf mutants doesn't end well no matter how hard you fight. The only reason you had managed to escape was that the scouts for their group had discovered old alcohol and were too plastered to stop you. Before you fled you made sure to kick a few asses, as well as take some food, water, a gun, and your old bike. Now you could continue your search for the "oasis" some meerkat mutants had told you about. You thought it was only a legend, especially when they had started praying to some wacko called the "holy chalupa" but what was the harm in looking right? Not as if you had anything better to do alone in the desert.

After kicking ass, you headed North. If this was some kind of unholy desert, then north would be cooler right? Less heat more trees, the whole shebang! Unfortunately, after being trapped in a cage for well over 15 years, you were a little rusty on the whole "apocalypse survival" crap. You had eaten through your supplies within the first week and you were running low on gas.

"Son of a bitch," you muttered as the bike slowed to a stop. Letting out a loud groan you got off and let the thing tip over on its side with a loud bang. "It's been great having you again while I could," you rubbed the Hamato clan insignia painted onto the side of it before continuing to head north. Days passed, you were dehydrated, starving, and had no sleep since you'd escaped. If Donnie were here, he'd say these were the perfect conditions for hallucinations and heat exhaustion. In this deprived state, you passed out quickly, but after waking up, he stood there, as if waiting for you. He looked exactly the same, nothing had changed. Same chocolate brown eyes, same purple bandana, and the same gap tooth grin he always wore when he saw you.

"Y/n? Y/N! Boy am I glad to see you!" He ran forwards and enveloped you in a tight hug.

"W-wait. What? Donnie how-how are you here?" You could barely believe it was true, but there he was right in front of you!

"Come on, haven't you missed me?" Oh great, now he looked hurt. You managed to hug him back, but he felt different. You weren't sure how you just knew.

"Donnie, I don't- I don't understand?"

"What's wrong sweetheart?" He released you and sat on the ground, patting the area next to him. You obliged, not as if there was anywhere else for you to sit in this godforsaken desert.

Leaning on him you let out a tired whisper as he wrapped his arm around you, "How are you alive?"

"Same as you, I survived the bomb. I've been living out here ever since. You should come with me, we could try to fix this mess together. Donnie and (Y/n), just like old times." He began to ramble on about all the great things the two you would accomplish together. He spoke about how much he had missed holding you and loving you. You wanted to believe it, you really did but one thing was holding you back.

"Donnie, I found your carapace." He froze, "I went back to where the city was and it was there, in plain sight. Hollowed out."

"But I'm here now? So how could that have been mine?" You allowed yourself one more moment in his arms before letting out a sigh and standing. You didn't want to live in a fantasy.

"You aren't real." The boy sighed before following your lead.

"No, but you want me to be. You wish I was here, so in your dehydrated and dying state your brain created-"

"a hallucination." You finished the sentence and what followed was silence. Looking behind you, there was nothing, he was gone. Choking back a sob, you marched onwards. You had longed for his touch for what felt like an eternity, you'd give anything to see him one last time, but you wanted the real thing, not a hallucination. But that wasn't the last time you saw him.

The second time was a few days later. You had found part of an old house and while scavenging it, you had stumbled upon some bad food. It was definitely expired and it gave you stomach cramps something fierce. Your face was contorted in pain as you lay on the ground of the partially shaded home, you let out a strangled cry but stopped when you heard him speak.

"Do you remember what I told you when you ate that old pizza after Mikey dared you to?" Letting out a groan you turned on your side. You couldn't deal with this right now. "Really (Y/n)? I'm trying to help. What did I tell you to do?"

You thought back to that day, Mikey had found a pizza in the sewer and dared you to eat it, he bet you couldn't eat a whole slice and boy oh boy did you prove him wrong real quick, but you paid a steep price. Donatello had come to help you. He said, "To take calming deep breaths, and to lie on my back."

He smiled and nodded, "What else?"

"I don't fucking remember Donnie! That was over thirty years ago!" You almost felt bad for snapping at him, but you were in too much pain to care.

"True, but science proved pain causes one to remember what caused it and how to relieve it." The glare you gave him must've finally gotten the message across because he let finally told you what you wanted, "You need to go throw up. It'll dehydrate you, but so will this." Struggling to stand, you walked out and behind the house and upchucked whatever gross concoction you had just downed not even an hour ago.

looking up at your hallucination you asked, "Why are you even helping me? You're not real."

He smiled softly at you, just how you remembered Donnie used to, "Because you need to survive. You need to keep going and you know If I was really here, that's what I'd want you to do. I'd want you to live." You blinked and he was gone.

Every time you thought you were in trouble, the dumb thing would reappear offering advice. You resented it- him- the hallucination. It was helpful, but it brought back painful memories of before the bomb. When life was easier and the earth was still beautiful. When the real Donnie was still alive. That last thought made you stop dwelling on the past. You had been walking since before the sun had risen, and now it was setting over the trees. You were zoned out all day! Wait a second, trees? You felt your hopes rise, was this the legendary oasis!? How had you not noticed this earlier, all around you is green! These trees are alive! A smile spread on your face until you heard his voice.

"You made it. I knew you could."

"Oh," you felt your heart drop, "this is another hallucination. Like the ones I'd see on T.V. when the cartoon character wanders the desert and thinks they see an oasis." With a sigh, you sat on the ground. You were so tired, so god damn tired of trying.

He thought for a second before speaking, "Well, does it feel like a hallucination"

"No, but isn't that how they work? They feel real?"

"Do I feel real?"

"Not really, no."

"Do the grass and trees feel real?"

Hastily reaching for the lowest branch and ran my hand through the overgrown grass. It felt real. It didn't have that weird sensation like when I touched the ghostly hallucination in front of me.

He grinned as he looked at the realization dawning on your face, "well there's your answer." And with that, he was gone. Tears ran hot down your face, you had actually made it! Against all odds, you were here. There are real-life trees and plants and even insects! Normal, non-mutant insects! You let out a chuckle and le your head lean against the tree behind you. The chuckle turned into an all-out laugh, and then into sobs racking your entire body. You didn't stop, not even when you heard the tree by you rattle, but when you saw something shiny gleaming in the sunlight you looked up. Was it a robot? How did it get here? You took in the sight of it, it had some kind of rabbit-like antennae with a purple band surrounding its eyes. Neither of you said a thing, just stared at each other for awhile until it finally spoke.

"(Y/n)?"

You pushed some of your hair behind your ear, how did it know your name? You replied anyway. "Yea?" The robot didn't move.

A thundering voice boomed from behind it, "Yo Donnie, what's the holdup- holy shit." A giant turtle mutant stared down at you. It wore a red bandana and was much bigger than the skinny robot. Behind him stood a scrawny old turtle with an orange bandana, and what looked to be a turtle on steroids with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. They all just stared at you. No one moving or saying a thing.

Realization slowly dawned on you. "G-guys?"

Mikey was the first to run up and hug you. He was laughing as he embraced you, picking you up and swinging you around. You were crying again, but now you were happy about it. Raph was the next to hug you, something you never thought would happen. When Leo approached you looked him up and down, "Jeez, I thought Donnie was supposed to be the tallest." He seemed relieved and let out a chuckle as you tried but failed to wrap your arms around him. There was only one person left, the robot.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost as if he was shy. "Uh, hey (Y/n). Long time no see?" Looks like he's still an awkward dork.

"This explains the empty turtle shell I found. But," you punched his arm, "it doesn't explain why you didn't come find me." His antennae flopped down and he looked distressed, for a robot he sure was full of expressions. He went to say something but you cut him off. "I forgive you, Donnie. Life is too short to be caught up on crap like that." You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tight. His body may be different but it was the same old Donatello in there. He paused before returning the gesture. The two of you stood there, embracing each other, neither one daring to move for what felt like an eternity. When you finally pulled away from each other you peppered little kisses all over his metallic face as tears started to roll down yours. You could hear his gears speed up and his face started to feel hot under your lips. 'I've missed you, so so much. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I missed you too." He stood and after brushing himself off, he picked you up and placed you on his shoulders. "Lets get you back to camp sweetheart. You look dehydrated and we can talk more in the morning after you've rested." Simply nodding in response you drifted off to sleep on the walk back. You felt him lower you down onto something soft but before he could leave you grabbed his arm.

"Please don't go." You could imagine the smile on his face as he lay down next to you. Surprisingly he wasn't as cold as you thought he'd be.

You were almost asleep again when you heard him whisper, "Sorry"

"For what?"

"I just- I know this wasn't what you were expecting, the whole robot thing I mean."

"Donnie, I thought you were dead. I wasn't even expecting to see you again EVER. The only thing I'm disappointed about is I can't see the adorable expression you make when I embarrass you. The ears are cute tho, they convey a lot of emotion for what your face lacks."

"You like it?"

'Hell yea Don, it's super cool. I'm dating a cool turtle robot ninja genius. I don't think anyone can ever top that."

He let out a low chuckle, "God I love you."

That simple string of words, that's what you'd missed the most. Your heart swelled and filled with adoration for the man you'd missed all these years. With a shaky voice, you replied, "I-I love you too." He nuzzled his face to your forehead and wished you goodnight. It was the best sleep you'd had in awhile and many more nights of it would follow.

#donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt Donnie #tmnt #tmnt leonardo #Leo #Mutagenbomb #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt 2k12 #angst with a happy ending #Enjoy this u thirsty bbs

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eekispyykes · 6 years ago

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Those Who Left Sparta to Fight Abortion.

Indicting texas and evangelicals for a debate of human rights

By Michael Bench

Drug prohibitions are the assured disrespect of law what texan staffed detainee centers offend for border policy. Where abuse of authority is exercised for political legacy soon the very opposite comes to pass. A hardline on immigrants today becomes a welcome mat for south Americans tomorrow. In the big scheme of things, Its okay because they're Americans too; NAFTA was shortsighted. Injuns would have just one new thing to smile about. It would be worth it. The United States government under trump is assuring a weak future policy since the border has been an ebb/flow pattern of bitterness. One day the Mexicans are invited. The next they're ejected.

Lately soap and toiletries are one element of South American detainee's troubles ; being refused basic first world hygiene. Another matter is trump's ICE turns a blind eye to the sex criminals hired and now abusing detainees. Texas isn't a newbie to the sex abuse charge either. They've been raping and condemning young girls/women to cult compounds by their own choice of silence.

There is room to condemn the border policy here on behalf of the asylum seekers. Most media outlets have kept it a focal story. Now texas must pay a price for what can now be observed relaxed standards of its managment and persons that amount to a population of perverts waving a christian flag. Perverts isn't a strong word when you put it next to protestants but it's sufficient to emphasize the worst of perversions is hypocrisy. Rape, incest, emotional abuse/neglect of children; All of these are very bad. Standing out from them is one perversion naming all virtues of 'a good society'; ' a society of traditional values". For that, I welcome a hefty hurricane season to hand Texas it's vile manner in spades. They can send their antiMuslim Ape boy on the beach to welcome them in.. Y'know.. that beach flea that beat his chest in a drunken stupor. Anyone got a zoo cage; texas's refusal of evolution seems to find them devolving into much less than people.

For decades mormon and protestant deviants have made use of the word of christianity as their buffet of pleasure. Televangelists prey on cable tv audiences to get their third commercial jet. Texas education doesn't register their evangelical ideals do not prepare children for the real world. Instead, a percent of male residents instate offer standard Lonestar exploitations of females to a role of servitude inside and outside the family tree.

The family tree is one the focus of my column. The Yearning for Zion and Waco compounds are among a record of Texas males using the words of christianity to bait their hook for underage sex slaves and their loyal parents. A state like Texas was the center of the Roe V Wade trial but Roe v Wade generically addressed the right to abortion and now seems a bland nod against undisclosed incest rights. Today's abortion bans are also making no exception for rape or incest. Bans following a trend in protestant, baptist and evangelical circles to have their teen girls pledge their virginity to their fathers. Be worried that family churches soon become bastardized clans child rape. Be ready to cry wolf and leave a trail of breadcrumbs and kibble so the pack of wolves know where to feast. In there!! sickem.. A perverse circular family tree formed around Jesus story-time, opportunist Trumpian lust and Petroleum lobbies.

Liberals are a nonuniform family. Most have a developed means respecting Nature and rational thought. It’s a developed trait in stark contrast to those who need to pray about stopping at the traffic light in time. Texas and southerners nearto baptists seem to be devolving into klan radicalism of many types. Fanatical religious sects must be considered also a symptom of tribalism. Tribalism is what tribal democracy falls to after human interference in the wires; often worse. Our problem witnessing racists and fascists try to revive their will among notchristian conservatives has a name more specific than 'divided country". United States naturally sinks towards tribalism under the dual kingship- partisan gerousia. Sparta's history has a unique place in this debate.

It's easy to point at Spartan Race and say " Hey, we're getting more Spartan". That’s an argument a republican congressmen would attempt. In the legislature the party system's majoritarian control of elections has effectively made a council of elders. Separately, the activities of the parties .. when deadlock is dramatized or state views not uniform.. are handled by a select few. " A Gang of Twelve", "A Gang of Eight". The American Government is exploited by Party Ephors challenging or obliging the Presidency. The Presidency is usually considered the head of his/her party while the Senate Leader of the opposite party is the patriarch of their own dogmatic kingdom. Sparta ended up deserted. A place where John Cougar Mellancamp would summarize " Genníthika se mia mikrí póli (Γεννήθηκα σε μια μικρή πόλη)". He was born in a small town. From country to small town. Hmm. How does that happen? Hypocrisy and the feral sapien condition(FSC). Don't call it the human condition anymore. They who won't make choices toward the society ; hoarding/profiteering instead.. are a feral condition. Republicans continually iterating United States 'a christian nation" are spraying more territorial pissing in their rhetoric than zealotry. The feral condition; aka fascism.

Let's say you have a stable, by-the-book government that continues to be responsible for it's actions/portions, effective, and organized. Let's say in that ideal government you have an upper caste of Citizens that are fair judges. Both King's plans are brought to fruition always. Here in the United States the kingships waste money on either one or two directions that are incompetent. Staggering ad/campaign money volumes keep the media debate parked to keep arguing it. United States is going the way of a B-rate Sparta. The democrat-republican syndicate never agreed to protect a neutral political space for the public; a region polluted by protestantism. The protestants of the public don't like offering neutral zone respects either.

If the people start leaving the "Perfect Sparta" what can you decide of this? I'd say the people are the problem. They want the gray area to bribe themselves ahead. It's not to suggest bribery isn't happening but the face of the country is clean; by all parameters the system succeeds . If the people abandon it, I have to expose the possibility people only require 'leading" and "brow beating" because they would choose the easy path for themselves. Some of the 'precious fetuses' are of this type of person; born of two of these types of people. They who undermine good social systems by impatience, too uneducated to dialog in state priority, too sectarian for their own recognition. Republicans today want recognition so they can redesign facts into untruths for their own ease. Loyalty is what antichoicers pledge to these fetuses in hopes they will be the type of idiot to pledge loyalty back to them.. not integrity in self.. when born. Loyalty breaks good systems as well. Loyalties to secrecy. The subacademics in highschool that skipped homework, gymclass and home ec to make videos of shooting firecrackers out their butt. When you have a society of those types praying together to 'beget a quiverful" of likeminded idiots… any republican candidate giving them attention and tasks are considered really great.

Protestantism has born it's own perversions. Protestants, evangelicals and baptists have become the new catholics with renewed catholic pride. Conservatives have a defensive pride relying on identifying right wing to amount the totality of satisfying their 'rightness; in all debates. "Fascists of declaring themselves right perpetually". In United States, they mistake faith an activism rather than a discipline. Free speech seems to extend the distances they can wander in deed and thought from their staunch interpretations of a saviour story. Conservative's freedom seems to extend what they do in their bedrooms with their wife, bootycall, computer or random nonwhite pedestrian abducted at gunpoint. The concept of the United States where all people are equal white catholics and protestants willfully abandon. The Liberals and Progressives who do believe that also practice population growth limitations with birth control and abortions. No matter how many christians are born to argue 'not being christian is being wrong", the real world is on Earth and the flat world is no more. The abortion of every species is now riding on the stupidity and ignorance of the republican party.. and campaign strategies. Yes, campaign strategies of raising important topics and then doing nothing such as the Joe Bidens. Today the republicans want to raise abortion as an important topic..

The republican respect for life ends at the Citizenship of the person; even if they were raised catholic or protestant. The republican respect for life ends at the election result. The republican respect for life ends at the exploitation of the 2nd Amendment. The republican respect for life ends at the Health Insurance donors envelope. The republican respect for life ends at the convenience of their discipline to not grope or rape an intern or office staff. The republican respect for life ends at international alliances with Saudi Arabia. The republican respect for marriage ends at trump, vitter, barton, desjarlais, sanford. With these people still in office and members of the republican party, it falls on the public to teach republicans what it means to vote. "Have a belief, vote your beliefs. Don't fall for rhetoric about power and pie in the sky dreams of entitlement". A republican party that won't enforce it's wedge topics on its own members/candidates are not penning legislation for the public. An ink that won't be respected.

This week republicans walked out of Oregon legislature debates of cap and trade. It was coordinated with their supporters arrival posing as protestors. Everyone who can think knows the opposition about abortion isn't about faith or life rights. Republicans work for the profit hospital industry to assure abortion, neonatal surgery, and even expensive unnecessary Caesaerean sections on the service menu. The hospital industry already broke their pledge to medicine for convenience 'bills'. They pay doctors less for vaginal birthsthan surgical intervention. Ah fer Cripe's sake.. whats more natural than vaginal birth and why aren't republicans yelling over their wallets about this??

Anti choice and most other republican planks are about yelling about something to distract progress. The fairweather Spartans just left the country. The republicans are more of a loitering type confronted with a serious problem. If they leave the United States.. they'll be further at risk of abandoning their radicalism when they have to adapt. Antichoice yells about the life of a fetus but stands around repeating the rhetoric fed to them by fox knowing its lies. So it's lies then. Lies and repetition and winning at all costs. Without a script for a new corporate governance they might as well be abortions. They'll lose as the underclass anyway. They're losing right now via contributed support to the tradewar.

Michael Bench has an MSci in Exercise Physiology and GradCert in Gender Studies. His Specialty is Consumerist caused body dysmorphia in the fashion industry. Michael’s new book is “Native Supremacy” now available on Amazon.

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tshirtfashiontrend · 6 years ago

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lovediva013 · 6 years ago

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tshirtfunny79-blog · 6 years ago

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keichanz · 8 years ago

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Boutique

@inukag-week Day Five: AU

This is late, but I still got it out! It came out longer than I wanted it to. Oops. Idek I just wanted an excuse for Kagome to paint Inuyasha’s claws.

The title’s not even a title, I’m just way too tired to come up with a decent one. so have that one for now.

Inuyasha stared at the shop in front of him with dismay, suddenly regretting his decision to take his niece wherever she wanted to go, his treat, as a birthday gift.

“Uh, Rin?” he asked the ten year old girl clutching his hand and bouncing up and down in her excitement. “Are you sure you wanna go here? And not, like, Chuck E. Cheese or something?”

Rin nodded, the smile on her face a mile wide. “I’m sure!” she chirped. “I came here with Mama once and I wanna do it, too!”

He winced. “Are you positive? Don’t you wanna go to some place more fun? Like maybe the zoo?”

“No, I wanna go here.”

“Aquarium?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Amusement park?”

“Too loud.”

“…Wal-Mart?”

Rin pouted and tugged on his hand. “Uncle Inu, you promised!” She stuck out her lower lip for effect and gazed tearfully up at him.

Inuyasha groaned and dragged a hand down his face, but sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright. Let’s just get this over with.”

Beaming, Rin nodded and practically dragged him inside Botan’s Beauty Boutique.

Immediately all the different and intense smells inside made him sneeze and he scowled. Well, at least the place didn’t seem too busy. Less people to witness this blow to his manliness by being here and maybe they’d get out quicker. Inuyasha hoped, anyway. He had no idea how long it took for whatever Rin had in mind and prayed it was under half an hour. And not expensive.

“Hi!” One of the employees emerged from the back and came toward them and Inuyasha had to force himself not to gawk like an idiot. Jesus, she was gorgeous, with long raven hair that fell in gentle waves around her face and the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes he had even seen stared at him from a lovely face. Donned in a pair of cut off jeans and a simple tee-shirt with the shop’s logo over the left breast, Inuyasha thought nobody had ever pulled the look off better. Exactly what that look was he didn’t know, and didn’t care.

Smiling brightly, she looked first to Inuyasha – holy fuck, was she blushing? Score—then dropped her gaze to Rin. “My name’s Kagome, and I’ll be taking care of you today. So, what’s on the agenda today?” she asked and Inuyasha was glad she’d aimed the question at Rin. Not a surprise, really, since this was generally a place where women went to, not men.

Rin giggled and lifted her hands, spreading her fingers. “It’s my birthday and I wanna get my nails done so they’re pretty like Mama’s!”

Kagome gasped and grabbed the child’s smaller hands in her own. “Oh my gosh, happy birthday! In that case, I’ll have to take extra special care and give you the royal birthday treatment!” The older woman winked at the girl and Rin looked positively giddy. “Right this way, birthday girl. I have a seat just for you.” She turned her gaze to Inuyasha and she offered another smile, the blush returning to her cheeks. Inuyasha couldn’t help but grin a little. “You can come back too, if you’d like. There’s an empty seat next to my station.” With that, Kagome took Rin’s hand and led her further back and suddenly glad that Rin had chosen this place Inuyasha followed, hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around curiously. It had everything your basis salon would have, mani-pedi stations, a waxing area, a place to get your eyebrows plucked, and Inuyasha spotted signs pointing to tanning and massaging. Cool.

“Take a seat, sweetpea.” Kagome gestured to the large, plush chair in front of her work area and sat down on the other side in her own chair. Inuyasha claimed the empty chair beside his niece and settled in to wait, curious how this worked, despite himself. His mother got manicures all the time, but he’d never tagged along or was even interested enough to anyway.

“So,” she began and opened a drawer, pulling out one of those color wheel things that let you see what color would like on a fingernail. “Why don’t you choose a really pretty color you like and I’ll get everything ready?” Still smiling, she brought out all the necessary tools as if getting ready to give her a full on manicure, but Inuyasha and she both knew it was only for show and she’d only be doing a bit of filing and painting his niece’s small nails.

Rin absolutely gushed over all the pretty colors, pointing out each one she liked – which was almost all of them, Inuyasha noted with amusement – and asking his opinion for one color before quickly changing her mind and picking another. In the end, without any input at all from her uncle – which suited him just fine since he really hadn’t the first clue about any of this girly shit – Rin chose a bright, sunshiny yellow with the explanation that it reminded her of her Daddy’s and Uncle’s “pretty gold eyes.”

“Oooh,” Kagome cooed and nodded in agreement. She flicked a gaze toward the uncle in question and smiled, biting her lip briefly before saying, “It’s a very pretty color. Good choice, sweetie.”

Inuyasha blushed.

Kagome ducked her head to hide her broad smile and left to retrieve the selected nail polish. When she returned, Inuyasha had thankfully gotten his blush under control and was able to act like nonchalant again, propping his head in his hand and idly tapping his claws against the table, watching as she selected a small nail file from her collection and once more took Rin’s small hand in her own.

While Rin chattered on about everything and anything under the sun, Inuyasha kept his gaze on Kagome, admiring the way her thick hair fell over her shoulder in soft waves, the way she nodded along with whatever his niece was talking about, responding back appropriately, like she was truly interested in the drama between her dolls at home. That made him like her even more. Beautiful, and good with kids.

It didn’t take long for Kagome to file Rin’s small nails to perfection and when the older woman unscrewed the cap to the yellow nail polish, Rin squealed and bounced in her seat. She didn’t even seem to care, or notice, that Kagome hadn’t even used all of the tools she’d brought out. Suddenly she turned to him and Inuyasha blinked.

“Uncle Inu,” she began and he arched a brow. “You need to get your nails painted, too.”

His eyes widened and he sputtered while Kagome tried, and failed, to stifle a snicker. “Wha—hell no, squirt. That shi—stuff’s for girls. I’ll pass.” He crossed his arms, attempting to look as manly as he could surrounded by nail polish and women and girly smelling shit.

Rin’s bottom lip trembled and immediately Inuyasha knew he was in trouble. Oh no. No, no, no, please don’t let her be— “B-but Uncle Yashie,” she sniffled and Inuyasha wanted to run far, far away. Instead his ass was rooted to his seat as his manipulative little niece turned huge, watery doe on him. “It’s my birthday and you said I could do whatever I wanted. I w-wanted you to get your nails painted with m-m-meeeeee.” She sniffed again and used her free hand, the one Kagome wasn’t working on, to rub at her eyes.

Panicking and at a loss, Inuyasha looked helplessly at Kagome, eyes wide and beseeching and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was silently pleading with her to help him.

She did, but not in the way he’d hoped or expected.

Trying valiantly to keep from smiling, Kagome came to his rescue and said, “Well, it is her birthday…and there just so happens to be a birthday discount I can offer on top of the two-for-one discount if you actually get yours done, too. That cuts the price down significantly, so…” She shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tried to suppress her mirth while painting his nieces nails with practiced, even strokes. “Just saying.”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her and that time she did smile.

Heaving a sigh, feeling like he’d just been cheated, Inuyasha shook his head and finally relented. “Alright, fine. But only because it’s your birthday, runt, and only this one time. Got it?” He pointed a claw-tipped finger at her and scowled.

Rin’s disposition did a 360 and she brightened, her tears disappearing and looking like she hadn’t just been about to cry her eyes out in a salon. “Yay! Thank you, Uncle Yashie! You’re the best uncle in the world and this is the best birthday gift ever!” She giggled and admired the bright yellow polish Kagome had just finished applying on the nails of her right hand.

“Yes, Yashie,” Kagome teased, glancing at him beneath thick, sooty lashes. “It’s such a nice thing to do for your niece on her birthday.”

Inuyasha blushed, again, and glared at her, however it didn’t hold much heat. “Keh,” he muttered, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite his best efforts. Cheeky little wench, wasn’t she?

God, she was perfect.

Kagome started on Rin’s left hand and Inuyasha watched silently, just listening to them chat, and before he knew it Kagome was recapping the polish and his niece was running around the salon and showing off her pretty new nails. Inuyasha shook his head in amusement and released as low chuckle, then his attention was directed toward Kagome as she shifted to the station next to hers, where he was sitting, and she gave him a smile before wordlessly holding out her hand.

Inuyasha eyed her hand, stared into her eyes, then silently put his hand, palm up, in hers. Instead of instantly whipping out the polish and getting to work like he’d expected, Kagome made a cute little noise in the back of her throat and took his hand in both of hers, studying his claws with an interest that surprised him. He allowed her to look and touch and study the talons tipping his fingers, tracing the digits with her own, and he couldn’t stop the growl that welled up in his throat.

Kagome paused, bit her lip and blushed. He smirked, but didn’t say anything as she busied herself with pulling out some of the polishes she kept in stock at her station. Still sort of disbelieving that he was actually agreeing to this, Inuyasha chose a simple red one, figuring he could just steal some of Kagura’s stinky polish remover when he took Rin back home and take it off. He’d just have to keep his hands in his pockets on the way there, is all. And pray Sesshomaru wasn’t home.

Kagome worked in silence for a bit, an adorable little frown on her face as she concentrated on painting his claws scarlet, the tip of her tongue slightly poking between her lips. Inuyasha suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Every now and then Rin popped in to check the progress and admire the pretty red color before running off again and showing off her nails to anyone who walked in.

“She’s adorable, you know,” Kagome suddenly piped up and Inuyasha flicked a glance at her before turning his gaze to his “adorable” niece, who was chatting up one of Kagome’s coworkers, a redheaded wolf demon, from what he could smell.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” he supplied bluntly but the grin curling his lips belied his words. “She’s alright, though.”

Kagome smiled. “You know not many men would actually agree to get their nails…er, claws painted,” she amended with a soft laugh as she brushed his pinky with crimson. She gazed up at him and her smile was beautiful. “I just want you to know that it was a really great thing you did…Yashie.” He gave her a deadpan stare for that and she snickered.

He rolled his eyes. “Keh. Rin is the only one I let get away with calling me that, so nice try. Everyone else has to call me by my name, so nice try.” He offered his left hand when she finished with his right and studied her handiwork. He had to hand it to her; she was very good at this. It was perfectly smooth and even, not even a trace of the polish on his cuticles or skin.

“And what might that be, or are you going to leave me guessing?” Kagome asked with a grin and dipped the brush into the bottle for fresh polish.

Suddenly Inuyasha’s eyes flashed wickedly and a rather suggestive smirk worked its way onto his lips as he leaned forward and answered huskily, “For women it’s usually ‘Oh god, yes,’ but the men call me Inuyasha.” His eyes dropped to her lips then back to her eyes, his interest clear as day now. This close to her, he could detect the sweet aroma of cherry and wondered if she was wearing flavored lip-gloss. Her lips were red and shiny and he desperately wanted to find out if his suspicions were correct. He didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but decided it was a very good thing when Kagome gasped and her face turned red, her scent spiking deliciously. He growled in approval.

“O-oh,” she squeaked, blushed even more and ducked her head to hide her flushed face. Inuyasha chuckled and spared her any further embarrassment, leaning back and letting her work in peace. They lapsed into silence, Kagome working quickly and diligently, and it wasn’t long before she announced she was finished and Inuyasha held up his claws for inspection. Not bad, he conceded inwardly. At least it wasn’t an overly girly color.

Rin suddenly appeared at his side and tugged his hand down to her level so she could inspect it, too. She grinned. “I like it,” she declared with a nod and beamed at Kagome, who smiled back, earlier embarrassment forgotten. “Thank you, Kagome!” Then she turned back to her uncle and lunged at him, eliciting a grunt from him as she wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. “And thank you, Uncle Yashie,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her.

Heart melting, Inuyasha gave a lop-sided smile and ruffled his niece’s hair. “Happy birthday, runt,” he said in lieu of welcome and was rewarded with another mega-watt smile. “How about we get some ice cream and call it a day? I dunno about you, but,” he slid his gaze over to Kagome and deliberately dropped his eyes to her lips. “I’m craving cherry.”

Rin cheered her agreement to that and Kagome dropped the nail polish bottle and it clattered loudly on the table as her face once more erupted into flame. Feeling proud of himself, Inuyasha chuckled and reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Clearing her throat and pretending like she hadn’t heard his not so subtle hint, Kagome gave him the grand total price of twenty-five dollars and when his brows shot up in surprise, she shrugged and said, “Discounts.”

Nodding, Inuyasha handed over and twenty and ten and Kagome left for the reception desk to get his change. He watched her go, admiring the view of her ass in those jeans and the tantalizing sway of her hips. He reluctantly tore his gaze away, however, when his phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out to read the text he’d received.

Whelp, where is my daughter?

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha typed a quick message back before pocketing it again, not in the mood to deal with his asshole brother at the moment.

Getting ice cream then heading home. Assface.

He felt it vibrate again almost instantly but ignored it because Kagome was walking back over to him, for some reason looking a little shy, but he didn’t think much of it. She bit her lip – god, he wanted to bite it, too – and handed him back his change with a receipt. She smiled at him, a flushing riding high on her cheeks. She opened her mouth, closed it, sighed, and shook her head. “Well…have a nice day.” She turned to Rin and her smile widened. “Happy birthday, Rin. Have some cake for me, okay? And make sure to tell everyone who asks that Kagome at Botan’s Beauty Boutique did your beautiful nails!”

Beaming, Rin nodded vigorously and held out her hands to admire her nails for the umpteen time. “Okay, I will! Thanks again, Kagome! I’ll come again with my Mama and pick a different color!”

“Looking forward to it!” Kagome returned. “See you later.”

“Bye!” Rin chirped, and ran outside, laughing merrily to herself.

Knowing she wouldn’t stray far, Inuyasha let her go and shook his head in amusement before turning to the salon’s prettiest employee. He wanted to say something, but didn’t know what, and it looked like she was expecting something to. He drew a blank, staring at her face.

“Uh. Thanks,” he said lamely, then winced and avoided her gaze, suddenly feeling awkward. Shit, she hadn’t really acknowledged his hardcore flirt. Was she not interested? His ears wilted a little at that thought and he tried not to look too disappointed.

Kagome did not try to hide her disappointment – wait, why was she—? – and offered a small smile. “You’re welcome,” She said softly and her eyes dropped to his hand where he still held his cash and receipt she’d given him. “Um…please come again.” She gave a small bow, one last smile, then turned and headed to her workstation to clean up what little mess she’d made.

Frowning, Inuyasha watched her for a few seconds more before reluctantly exiting the shop, feeling like he was leaving something unfinished, unresolved in there. Growling in annoyance at himself, he went to push his change back into his wallet and spotted some writing on the receipt she’d given him that he’d crumpled slightly in his grip. Curious, Inuyasha paused outside on the sidewalk and flattened out the piece of paper, scanning the neat handwriting on the back.

And almost dropping it in surprise. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped and he reread the message once more, twice, three times, again and again, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, that his desire was so strong that his mind was deceiving him into seeing things that weren’t there.

If it’s cherry you want, I can satisfy that craving.

A pink cherry scented kiss mark was her signature.

Inuyasha whipped his head around so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash and through the large glass window of the salon front, he spotted Kagome and she was already string at him, her brown eyes wide and hopeful, biting down on her lip again and she offered a shy, but genuine smile.

Inuyasha promptly stuffed the note and money in his pocket, ignoring his niece’s curious stare, and walked back into the store like a man on a mission, his eyes not once leaving Kagome’s face. Kagome didn’t move, the hopeful smile on her face widening with every step closer he took until he was suddenly in front of her and she parted her freshly glossed lips to whisper his name. Inuyasha growled, snagged her around the waist with an arm while he cupped her face with his other hand and wasted no time in dipping his head to cover her mouth with his own.

Cherry-flavored heaven. That was the only way he could describe it. Her lips were soft, perfect and he greedily licked off all of that wonderful gloss she’d no doubt just applied and he felt her arms go around his neck and her body press close to his.

He smirked against her lips, she smiled, and watching through the storefront glass window, Rin squealed in delight, clapping her hands. Uncle Yashie has a girlfriend now!

This really was the best. Birthday. Ever.

#Inukag week #inukag week day 5 #au #inuyasha #kagome #rin #fuck im tired #bedtime for me #cherrrriiieeesssss

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