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mydarllinglover · 9 months

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Alone || As It Was

Soon, winter had passed, the Dixons had settled back into Alexandria, and the house had gone under some serious redecorating, a passion project for Natalia, whilst Daryl had resumed his old position of hunter for the group.

Firstly, the twins had been given an updated room for their age, a crib and a room full of diapers wouldn't be suitable for them anymore, though back in the cabin, they had still shared a bed, they liked sleeping beside one another, cuddled up with their twin, Natalia had spent about a week on their room, repainting the walls a soft pale blue, with a mural of a woodland gathering on one of the walls, from one of their favourite books, a big bed, for the girls to share, she had also hunted down some learning tools and toys that are more age appropriate for six year olds, that they'd enjoy and hopefully stimulate their brains as they start their schooling journey soon.

Natalia had also contemplated the idea of putting art supplies in their room, but after careful evaluation, ultimately decided to store it somewhere safe and hidden and to be used on the porch, where messes and fights wouldn't become so costly.

Lydia had moved in with them, which was something that Evie did not appreciate, but knew there were no other choices, she hadn't brought up her distaste, until Daryl and Natalia had broke it to her, that her and Lydia would have to share the basement as Archie was getting old enough that he wouldn't be able to share with his parents.

Though, Natalia had tried her best to be accommodating to both teen girls, splitting the room in half, and separating the space with a curtain and furniture, to give them both space and privacy from one another, but Rosita had also let it be known, that she had offered a bedroom at hers and Eugene's old house, if the girl ever needed to get away, the pair had grown even more close as they dealt with their griefs, being there for each other, and Rosita being able to give Evie some adult advice and supervision that isn't her parents.

Archie had took his first steps in the January, only two months before his first birthday, which was celebrated with only their close friends, keeping it small, not only for their son's benefit, but also for the girl that the people of Alexandria still saw as a threat.

When Spring had finally come, Daryl took this as the opportunity to teach all of his girls a very important skill, something that could've potentially been very helpful to them in the world before, how to ride a bike.

Surprisingly, the twins had caught on very quickly, Bambi, who loved Daryls bike, and begged him many times to let her ride it by herself, was very excited when he proposed the idea, and had nailed it in just under twenty minutes, must've been in her blood.

But Daisy on the other hand, had taken a full day, as she was too nervous to hurt herself, something that had surprised the parents, considering how adventurous and courageous she is, but Daryl had worked with her on it, and promised that he wouldn't let her get hurt in even the slightest, and she had finally managed it.

Only a couple of days after the twins sixth birthday, the people of Alexandria travelled to Oceanside, where the two communities, The Kingdom and The Hilltop, had started a "bootcamp" training course, to get everyone and their fighting abilities up to par.

Daryl had taken Bambi, Dog, and Evie with him, whilst Natalia stayed home with Daisy, Archie, as well as Lydia.

They knew how the girl felt about having to fight against her people, and neither of them trusted anyone looking over her, plus having Archie there would just be a massive distraction, Daisy was to keep her sane, besides, they were trying to separate the twins a bit, get them used to not being glued to each other, they wanted to be realistic and prepared, so the idea was to parent trap them, preparent trap them, when one was in England and the other was in the countryside, in another country.

Natalia was well aware that her husband had bribed their six year old daughter to stay in Alexandria, considering all the other kids were leaving to have a beach week without her, she didn't take well to being left out, especially to help her mom take care of a baby and an older teenager.

It turned out, that later in the 6th day, Judith had found one of the skin masks in a pile of stuff that RJ had collected, scaring herself and everyone else around her.

"The kids found it by the estuary." Aaron reported over the comms. "The river must've carried it down."

"What does it mean?" Gabriel asked, who was sat beside Natalia, after dragging her into the radio room. "Are they back?"

"We don't know." Aaron replied. "But Alexandria should go on lockdown just in case."

Static sounded, before the button clicked again.

"Hold on." Michonne's voice told them. "We don't have evidence to justify that."

"Mich!" Natalia grumbled, when she was given the small opening to talk through the mic.

"My official recommendation is that everyone should stay on alert until further notice. Eyes and ears open. That's it." She continued.

Natalia went to snatch the mic, but Gabriel seemed to be quicker.

"Copy tha-" He went to reply, but she was stronger.

The others could hear the struggle over the mic.

"What? May I remind you what we've been doing for the past decade?!" Natalia told her. "Being on alert is what you should be thinking! My baby is on that beach, she was right there and... and you want us to just wait for more evidence, what more evidence do you need, Michonne! I want her home, now!" She forced her hand back off the button, throwing herself back into the chair.

"Nat, I understand that, okay, she's fine."

"Michonne, don't you dare feed me bullshit, not you."

"Bambi's fine, weren't even bothered, she's out there right now, teaching RJ how to shoot." Daryl's voice came through, slightly easing her panic.

"She's my little girl, Daryl."

"Do they need some privacy?" Cyndie asked the other people in the room.

"They're fine." Aaron shook his head.

"Hey, she's alright, we're gonna turn back soon as we can, alright? Ma lil girl too, an Daisy, where she at?"

"Teaching Lydia how to read their favourite book, apparently she's taking over bedtime stories." She sniffed, a small smile inching onto her face. "How's Eves?"

"Been here the whole time, was actually waiting for you to ask."

"Oh, sorry honey, you doing okay?"

"Nat, this is kinda an emergency only thing, not a phone call over a cup of t-"

The look Natalia gave the priest soon got him to shut up.

"Hey, if you want us all back soon, we gotta get ready to go." Michonne told her. "Over and out."

"That was your fault." Natalia pointed at the man sat beside her.

"Excuse me." He laughed, putting his hands in the air, up in surrender.

"Helping you off that rock was one of the dumbest things I ever did." She mumbled to herself, getting off the chair and leaving the room, releasing Laura of babysitting duty.

"We're gonna have a meeting about this, I want you there, Nat." He called after her.

"He would not stop crying since you left." The blonde scowled at her when she reached her houses porch, waving a building block at Archie, encouraging him to build a tower.

"Mommy!" Daisy squealed, throwing herself at Natalia.

"Hi, baby, did you come from Auntie Ro's house?" She smiled at her, but the expression dropped when she looked at Laura.

Laura shrugged.

"She's a runner."

"Mommy, Auntie Rosita was teaching me how to box, like this." She begun pouncing around and hitting the air instead of Natalia.

"Oh wow, my lil Rocky, where's Lydia?" Natalia asked, picking the small girl up, hugging her tightly.

"Ugh, she got annoyed whenever I said she was wrong, so I made Gracie babysit her." Daisy threw her head back in annoyance as Natalia struggled to not drop her. "They're in school."

"Speaking of which, why isn't she in school?"

"Oh, Look at you, meddling in my business, I ask you to watch them for five minutes and you couldn't even do that."

"Yeah, Laura." Daisy blew a raspberry at her. "'Sides, my daddy said that as long as Bambi's not at school, I don't have to go to school, so stay out of it."

"Yeah, that's great parenting, right there." That annoying nails on a chalkboard voice came from the tomato's, since Negan had saved the twins lives back in winter, and had a "secret chat" with Michonne, her and Gabriel had discussed the Negan situation, he was now allowed to leave his cell only on the account that he is put to work and under complete supervision.

Everyone had also promised to keep the Negan-saving-Daryl's-daughters-lives thing, an lockdown secret.

"Negan, stay out of this, no one needs your input on anything, alright." Natalia turned on him. "Hey, lovey, why don't you practice what Aunt Rosita showed you, on Negan, okay? You don't have to air punch him, though." She let her daughter down, who ran straight for the man, only just catching the girl as she swung at him with her tiny fists, giggling loudly.

"Really?" Laura folded her arms across her chest.

"I have my reasons, stop prying, besides' Brandon?" She turned to Negan's "Patrol officer."

"Yes, Ma'am?" He asked almost too eagerly.

"You mind watching Daisy as well, as your pet, gotta council meeting to attend to, and someone likes to gossip." Natalia asked him, picking up Archie, who she didn't have to worry about bringing to meetings.

"Yes, Miss Natalia, of course, anything for you." The young man blushed, bowing at her, as Daisy and Negan both watched unamused, and slightly grossed out.

"Maybe I should practise on him instead." Daisy whispered to Negan.

"Good idea." He nodded, breaking an tomato into pieces giving the young Dixon a piece to try.

"My Daddy calls people like that-"

"Thank you Brandon, Daisy, sweetie, we don't have to repeat everything Daddy says, do we? What are you doing? She doesn't like tomato's."

"I like Negan's Tomato's, Mommy, he picks the best ones."

Natalia froze at that small sentence from her innocent child's mouth, Daisy had no idea the weight that small sentence carried, because it didn't matter, instead of in her home, Alexandria, with two of her children and surrounded by friends, and foe, she was back in that clearing the one where two of her friends were brutally taken from her, as she was humiliated and blamed, before being captured by the very man who was feeding her daughter.

The doors of the town hall slammed open, Lydia stormed out of it, twirling her stick in her hand, before releasing the bottom, which revealed an chain, that she waved around like a nun chuck.

"Hey, DeDe, why don't you come join in on the meeting, I'll braid your hair whilst your mom does the important talking and listening." Rosita, who had headed towards the hall, but had over heard the very familiar sentence too, offered, covering her eyes from sunlight, as she looked at the six year old. "You can show me your truck collection, too."

"Okay, but I hid it somewhere secret, I don't want the others touching them without Bam." Daisy explained, getting up and walking towards her aunt.

"Daisy, we've told you about sharing with your friends."

"Mommy, all my friends went to the beach without me, those losers ain't my friends."

"Aren't." Gracie corrected, as she walked away from the hall, which was also the school.

"See." She rolled her eyes, walking into the building.

"Gracie, honey, just ignore her, 'kay, she's not used to being without her sisters, she doesn't know how to express it, but she doesn't mean it, okay?" Natalia explained to the young blonde girl.

"I know, Aunt Nat." She smiled.

"Go hide in my house, away from this." Natalia looked towards Lydia's practise, making sure no one was at risk of getting in the way, just in case. "Why don't you draw your daddy some more pictures, he loves them."

"Okay!" She beamed.

"Lydia, how did reading go?" Natalia asked the obviously frustrated girl.

"Great." The girl gritted through her teeth, hitting the air especially hard with her stick.

"Great, then you'll be ready to read to Archie tonight, for bed." Natalia told her, adjusting her son on her hip, as she walked towards the hall.

She could hear the annoyance Lydia felt for that idea as the thwacks and bangs got louder, more aggressive.

The meeting hadn't gone great, Natalia found herself watching Rosita and Daisy play with Daisy's "secret" stolen collection of toy trucks, than what was actually being said.

She was busy putting the kids to bed as well as keeping her promise on making Lydia read to Archie, Daisy had turned the offer down, before it was even voiced, considering the "lesson" earlier.

Father Gabriel was outside, in the street giving orders to the people of Alexandria, he was going against Michonne's wishes and putting the place on lockdown.

That was when a loud whooshing noise sounded from the sky, before a big crash.

"What was that?" Lydia jumped up, looking around like a scared cat, as Archie began to cry.

"Mommy?!" Daisy yelled from her bedroom.

"Okay, wait here, I'm gonna go see what's going on, okay, you're all fine, Lydia, I need you to watch them, okay? just for a second."

"But-" The teenager tried to resist.

"Lydia, listen to me, I've just given you a job, now you need to do it whilst I do mine, you know how to comfort Archie, and to get him to stop crying, I need you to settle him, Daisy, honey, can you come here please, I need you to stay with your brother and Lydia." She called, but Daisy was already running into the room.

"Mommy! I heard a huge sound, is Daddy and my sisters and Dog okay?!" She said so quickly, that Natalia almost didn't catch it, almost.

"I'm sure they are, honey, but Mommy's gotta go check, you stay in here, you hear me? You don't leave unless Lydia tells you to, okay? And that's only in a life and death situation, I mean it, can you promise me?"

"But, Mommy-"

"Daisy Caroline, can you promise me you're going to stay in this room? If you can't, I can't go and check if everyone's okay."

"I promise." She nodded, her hazel eyes swam with sincerity.

"That's my good girl." Natalia kissed her daughters head. "I won't be a minute, okay?"

It had turned out that the very loud noise was an satalite from space, that had of course, fallen into Alpha's territory, causing an forest fire that would eventually reach Oceanside, after killing all their game.

The group had been forced to cross onto their land to put out the fire, and even with their good deed, came consequences.

For thirteen hours, after the arrival of the others from Oceanside, herds of walkers approached the Alexandria borders, Aaron had led groups of fighters out as they delt with the threat, but it was unrelenting.

"Just a constant wave after wave." Aaron relayed to the rest of the Council, including Daryl, Carol and Michonne.

"This is her." Carol commented.

"You know your training. Lock it down." Michonne told the man.

Another hour had passed, they stood around the gates, staring at the growing herd, bigger than the last ones.

For two days and two nights, they took out walkers from the inside.

"Y'know, this kinda reminds me of back in Georgia." Natalia breathed, pulling out a spear from an young looking walker.

"How so?" Michonne asked.

"Fence duty, remember that time, just as the sickness was settling in, and the fence collapsed, me, Maggie, Sasha, Glenn, Rick and Daryl, were taking them out, until we had to get rid of the piglets."

"Man, Rick was crushed." Daryl snorted, as he thought about it for a second, before taking out another walker.

"Yeah, and yet he got mad at me an Carl when we named them." She scoffed.

Soon enough, they had fully taken out a wave, giving themselves a break.

"Eugh, Mommy, Daddy, you both reek, so bad." Daisy gagged, her and Bambi plugged their noses as they coloured at the table, Evie was in the front room, playing with Archie, until he followed his parents into the kitchen, forcing her to have to get up and follow, too. "Look, even Dog can't stand it." She pointed at the dog who was also keeping his distance, sat between the twins chairs.

"Thanks, lovey." Natalia turned the tap, cupping her hands as they filled with water, splashing her face.

"Are all the walkers gone?" Bambi asked.

"Fer now." Daryl answered, bending down to catch Archie as he sprinted towards the table leg. "Where's Lydia?"

"In the room, she's hiding from everyone." Evie explained, pulling walker flyaways out of Natalia's hair.

"Negan told her that she's the target for everyone's pointed anger, she's waiting for the patchforks to turn up."

"Daisy!" Evie turned on her younger sister.

"Its pitchforks." Bambi corrected.

"And how do you know this?" Natalia asked, raising a brow.

"I'm a good listener." Daisy shrugged.

"You were eavesdropping outside our door, last night, when Mom and Dad told you to stay in your room." Evie folded her arms as she glared at her.

"I was not!" She denied.

"Was, too"

"Daisy, don't bother, you're as much of a bad liar as yer mother." Daryl told her.

"What have we told you about being a sneak and a gossip." Natalia sighed.

"But Mommy-"

"No buts." She then muttered to Daryl, discreetly. "I should go talk to her, before giving Negan a slap."

"Could do a lot worse than that." He grumbled.

Just as she was about to head down to the basement, one of the radios went off.

"Dixons, we need ya back out here, for clear up, all hands on deck."

"Kids, come on, get some fresh air." Daryl told them as they prepare themselves to get back to work.

"Do we get to help kill walkers?" Bambi asked, as the twins went to attempt to grab their bows, that resided on a tall hook by the front door, that Natalia had to lean on her tip toes to reach.

"Maybe." Natalia fed into their excitement, whilst Daryl grabbed their weapons, putting Archie back down. "Eves, why don't you go check on her?"

"She's fine." The blonde said all too quickly.

"Evie, please? She doesn't need an nagging adult, she needs a friend, to know she's not alone."

"We're not friends." She pressed.

"Take Archie with you, then meet us outside, you can both help."

"Natalia, Daryl, these walkers will not be taking time for the both of you to diddly dally." Eugenes voice sounded.

"Eugene, shut up and give us a second." Natalia pressed the button and spoke into her walkie.

"Yes, Ma'am, my deepest apologies." He replied a moment later.

"Daddy, he's one of them, isn't he?" Daisy asked, looking up at her father, her brows furrowed.

"Yup." He patted her head.

"There's a lot of them around here." She grumbled.

"Evie, downstairs now, take your brother, girls, come on, you can go play with the other kids."

"No, we wanna help." Bambi told her.

"I'll think about it."

"Daddy, we wanna help."

"Listen to ya Ma."

"He's one too." Daisy rolled her eyes at her twin.

"A big one." Bambi nodded. "I wanna be like Mommy when I'm big."

"Powerful." The twins frowns turned into identical grins.

"Wait till you both hit puberty." Evie commented, picking up Archie and walking towards the basement.

"How long till the next wave hits?" Michonne asked Eugene, as the people of Alexandria got rid of the walker corpses from the front of the gates.

"One hour from the north, two from the south." Eugene answered her. "Northern waves thicker than flea's on a farm dog, but the southern's more dispersed. By my estimation, we'll be fighting into the night again."

"Yeah, can't push 'em too much further." Daryl commented.

"I have eyes." Michonne snapped.

"And a lot of weight on the shoulders, drop the attitude." Natalia warned her. "We ain't the enemies."

"Sorry. I'm just tired."

"We all are." Daryl shrugged off her snappiness.

"Seriously, how do you do it, how are you still so... perky and alive?" Michonne asked Natalia. "What happened to you?"

"Hey, I got two seventeen year olds in one room, two six year olds in another and a baby, you either nap where possible or you get over it." She stated, looking around.

"Hey, heads up." Daryl caught their attention, once more, walking towards something, which so happened to be one of the mask freaks walking confidently towards them.

"The fuck are you doing?" Natalia asked, out of pure surprise.

"The north border. Now." The masked woman ordered.

"Call off your walkers." Michonne told her.

"Not us."

"Yeah, right." Daryl scoffed.

"Not. Us."

"Bull. Shit." Natalia folded her arms.

"Go to the border, lay down your weapons and wait."

"Wait for what?" Daryl asked her.

"Her." She then walked away.

"Hey, she was on our property, that means we get to kill her, right?" Natalia pointed out, her finger outstretched to the retreating back.

"Nat, come on. Meeting." Michonne told her.

"Eurgh, I've been to so many just this week." She whined.

The people gathered in the hall, once again, chattering away to one another or sitting deep in thought.

Lydia was sat in the middle of the meeting, Daryl nor Natalia strayed too far from her.

"Alright!" Michonne called the attention of the community. "Is this your mother?" She asked the girl.

"No." She shook her head hesitantly. "I don't think it is."

"Why she want to talk with us?" Daryl asked her.

"You crossed into her land. Again. You have to answer for that."

"So did her messenger." Natalia reminded.

"We don't have to do anything." Aaron said. "We could just not go."

"That's a bad idea."

"We're already under attack." Dante spoke up.

"Yeah!" The people cheered.

"It isn't her." Lydia was sure of her self now. "If she wanted you dead, she'd send the horde. All of it, not just a few waves at a time."

"Maybe she's trying to wear us down first." Carol theorised.

"Or, as I relayed to you all at the beginning of this meeting, there's plausible reason to believe that the satellite and fire..."

"I don't want to hear about the damn satellite anymore, Eugene!" Margo cut him off.

"Well, are you going to think of any reasons as to what's going on, or offer to pull your weight, or anything but complain?" Natalia asked her.

"My friends died trying to save yours, and ended up with their heads on spikes." She then stood from her chair. "The Highwaymen want justice!"

"Yeah!"

"So all I want to hear from you, is that you're gonna take a dozen of us to meet these freaks at the border and that we're gonna take that lead bitch's head off!!"

"We cut it off!" Gage agreed. "And then we'll put their heads on spikes!"

"Gage, you couldn't kill a fly, even if it was frozen to the wall." Evie looked at him with disgust as the crowd got louder.

Siddiq jumped from his chair, scratching at his throat before leaving the room.

Then Michonne got up, and all talking ceased.

"How many walkers did you see in Alpha's horde?" She asked Daryl.

"Tens of thousands." He thought out loud.

"Ah. So... What's your plan for taking them out?" She directed her question to Margo.

She was silent.

"Oh, that wasn't rhetorical." She clarified.

"I don't have one." The woman finally admitted.

"Ah. Does anybody else?" She asked the room, but no one spoke up. "If she sends that horde, that's it! Right now, all she wants to do is talk. And we are going to listen. Now, while we are doing that, everyone here needs to focus on what's coming in from the north and the south." She then took a deep breath in, collecting herself. "We're tired. We are on edge. And it is going to get worse before it gets better. But we aren't gonna get through it at all if we do not act as one."

Once the meeting was over, Michonne, Carol, Daryl, and Natalia planned out the groups.

"Three objectives means three groups. Gabriel will take point in guarding the gate from the northern wave... while Aaron will take some troops and handle the southern wave, breaking it up before it hits the wall. That leaves us, and the border."

"Unarmed." Daryl reminded.

"You're really going in there unarmed?" Carol asked.

"We got no choice."

"I'm never fully unarmed." Natalia shook her head. "But I think I'm gonna stay back."

"You're coming with." Michonne gave her no room to argue.

"I'll find myself more useful going with Aaron or staying here on gate duty."

"And I'll find you more useful with us, that's final."

"When did you become the boss of me?"

"Since you became less reckless and more of a stay at home mommy."

"Hey,-" She raised her finger to point at Michonne.

"Negan's going with Aaron. And you wanna beat that bitch from earlier up, who'll be on gate duty."

"Fine." She scowled, walking away to grab her things, Daryl soon turned on his heel to follow, he didn't say anything, he wanted her with him.

It was dark when they reached the border, receding their sight, massively.

They took a silent moment, staring at the wooden spikes, remembering what was there only a few months ago, the heartbreak still lingered in the air.

Then they dropped their weapons to the ground and waited.

Daryl moved to stand beside Carol, as she stood at her sons place, her weapons still on her.

"You alright?" He asked.

"I... need a minute." She told him, dropping her bow.

"FYI, I did not turn into a stay at home "Mommy." Natalia told Michonne.

"Girl." Michonne looked at her about to give a proper reply but was soon cut off.

"Heads up." Daryl told everyone, after he paced around looking for any signs of them.

a small herd appeared from the fog, stumbling towards them.

"What the fuck?" Natalia sighed, wishing she had fought harder to stay at home with her babies.

Alpha took off her mask, walking more quickly towards them.

"There was one rule between our people." She spoke loudly. "One law. Stay where you are. Yet you disobey."

"That fire would've destroyed your land." Daryl explained.

"Fire's nature to burn." She replied. "We have no conflict with nature."

"It could've wiped out one of our communities." Michonne tried. "We were not gonna sit back and let that happen. You can understand that. We crossed one time."

"Three times." Alpha corrected. "During the fire, you walked my land. And during the winter storm, you walked my land. During your search along the river, you and the man with the metal arm walked my land. That's three times. We are always watching. What did I tell you about crossing my border?" She walked towards the spikes, facing Daryl. "You have to be punished."

The other masks drew weapons.

Natalia was already prepared to fight.

"But..." Alpha started. "I consider context."

"You can consider basic hygiene, con-"

"Nat!" Michonne snapped.

Alpha stared at the brunette for a moment, before continuing.

"There will be no bloodshed this time."

"So what do you want?" Michonne was sick of the woman, as they all were.

"Land." She answered. "The creek that winds into the valley. That is your new southern border. We will mark the new border to the north."

"That'll cut off our hunting grounds." Carol pointed out. "We don't have to stand here and listen to this..."

"Carol!"

"She's right!" Natalia stuck up for the woman. "This freakazoids only got power cause we're giving into it, we've faced way worse threats than this, I've faced way worse than this-"

"Natalia!"

Daryl came up from behind her, turning the woman away from Alpha, covering her mouth, his arm around her waist.

"This"... what?" Alpha asked.

"This bullshit." Carol finished.

"That's it. Come on, we're done." Daryl pushed Natalia along, going to walk away, as the others followed. "Let's go."

"We're not." Alpha halted. "Not until these two lower their eyes to my feet."

Natalia rolled her eyes.

"She ain't doing that." Daryl denied, keeping a tight grip on her.

"You should fear me." Alpha told them.

"I don't, none of us do." Carol told her. "I look at you and I feel nothing at all."

"Is that right?" Alpha smiled. "The blond boy... screamed your name just before we took his head. Her daughters, too." She looked at Natalia.

Carol pulled out a gun, shooting at Alpha, but Michonne knocked it away, pushing Carol, as the masks aimed their weapons.

Daryl made the mistake of letting go of Natalia, grabbing Carol, holding her, giving Natalia the advantage to strike, throwing her fist into the bald woman's cheek.

"You ever speak on my daughter or her son's name again, lady, I will rip your-"

"Nat, no!" Michonne shouted, as Laura and Griffin, a guard, dragged Natalia backwards. "I apologise, for my friends." Michonne turned to Alpha, who was holding her face. "We have not slept. And you know what Carol lost."

Alpha turned to Carol.

"I forgive you. Mother to Mother." She then picked Henry's spike up. assessing them all, her eyes falling on Natalia. "This is my land, now. You better run."

"Come on. Let's go." Daryl told everyone, grabbing his, Carol's and Natalia's belongings, whilst dragging his friend away, Laura pushed his wife along whilst Michonne waited a moment, staring down Alpha.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #carl grimes #carol peletier #daryl fanfiction #glenn rhee #michonne #rick grimes #daryl x you #twd daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryldixonalonetwd #darylxnatalia #daryl imagines #daryl dixion imagine

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itsany62 · 3 years

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SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

#stevetony #stony #fic rec #tony stark #steve rogers #my recs

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

A Natural: Part 7/Finale

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Posted: 04/09/2021

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 3,673

A/N: Yay! Another series finished! Thanks for loving this story!

Theo was talking animatedly with Taehyung as he was wheeled toward the house, but he got quieter as you approached the front door to unlock it, looking down at the ramp beneath the wheels of the wheelchair.

Tae pushed him through the front door, his conversation also lulling.

Theo looked around, a bit of a smile on his face. “I get to stay now, right?”

You nodded, kissing his forehead. “You get to stay now and forever. We do have to go back for checkups and therapy but you’re home and you’re safe and I’m making roast beef and mashed potatoes.”

“Yummy! Can we go play, Dad?” Theo asked, brightening instantly and sort of bouncing in his wheelchair.

“Sure!” Tae pushed the wheelchair through at a speed that made you nervous. But you knew he would never purposely endanger Theo: Theo was his pup. That was evident in all of his actions, in his conversation, and in the effort he had made to get certified so that he could be there when Theo was released.

You went into the kitchen to baste your roast and then start peeling the mashed potatoes, trying to calm your heart because your baby was finally home again. Finally, finally home again, after weeks and months of too little patience and not enough answers, and a whole sea of tears. Therapy, rehab, tests, more tests, and after all of that, you had your baby home—less mobile than before, but still your baby.

You watched Theo playing on the bed with Tae, fighting the tears and hopelessly losing because he was back where he belonged.

Peace, comfort, and everything right in the world. Nothing intruding, just your little family.

So, of course, your phone rang.

You groaned and answered it. “Yoongi? Really? We just got Theo home.”

“It happened. We’re out of a job,” Yoongi answered, sighing. “They closed the company down.”

“Ugh. You could have texted me that,” You huffed, heading back to the kitchen. The two of you had basically considered everything going on and known that the company was going to collapse. You’d almost been told as much when the two of you went in to talk to an IRS agent who wanted you to walk her through your jobs and some files and go over the discrepancies that had led to the audits.

“Yeah, well, I also had to tell you that the paperwork came in the mail today, and we close on the building next week.”

“Okay, that was worth calling me,” You said, hopping onto the counter. “What’s next on the list?”

“Fixing the building? Getting the classes organized. You finish the certification class tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of pathetic,” You said, shrugging. “Too easy. Let’s make our classes thorough, yeah?”

“Agreed. Jin is already writing a teaching plan. He’s got it halfway done—at least, I hope that’s the halfway point. Jungkook’s been helping, which makes hyung happy. And he’s finished the dog-training next week. The teacher was really excited to hear about what we’re doing, by the way, and gave Jin a bunch of things. She asked Jin to sit in on her next couple of classes as her helper.”

“That’s really great. Jimin?”

“He’s hitting garage sales to celebrate getting the building, hoping to find some cheap stuff to get us started. How’s Theo?”

“He’s fine. He’s bright and happy and playing with Taehyung right now. He’s taking things well and I’m making his favorite, and he’s looking forward to everyone coming over tomorrow.” You checked your timer, then sighed. “We’re totally doing pizza, though. I’m already exhausted.”

“Okay. I can pick it up on my way over.”

“Thanks. I’ve got to go. Need to get the rest of dinner started.”

“Tell Theo we’re looking forward to playing games with him tomorrow.”

“You got it. Eat well.”

“You too.”

You slipped off of the counter, and started putzing around the kitchen making some side dishes to go with dinner.

Tae came out. “How long until dinner?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Better keep it warm, he fell asleep.”

You nodded, letting him stop you and hold you still. “He okay?”

“Very okay. He’s so happy he’s home that he just sort of passed out.” He kissed your cheek, then sighed. “I’m so happy too. I finally get to see him and hold him. I just want to hold him and cry.”

“I’ve almost been in tears for the entire day,” You told him. “I figure once he’s in bed for the night, I’ll cry my little heart out.”

“Can I cry with you?”

“Of course you can. I would never ask you not to cry when you wanted to.” You turned to meet his gaze, gently touching one of his furry ears. “It’s been hard for both of us. It’s still going to be hard. I’m terrified of the next few days.”

“Me too. Even if they told us what to expect and how to care for him, there’re still a lot of mistakes we’re going to make and that scares the fur off me.”

You nodded. “I wouldn’t be able to make it through all this if I hadn’t had you, you know.”

Taehyung nodded. “I know.”

“Mommy! Look! I made it in my chair and through the house!” Theo called, managing the last push through to the kitchen and raising his arms in victory.

“My baby! Look at you!” You hurried over bending to kiss his face all over. “Excellent job!”

“It’s exhau…it’s tiring,” Theo finished, nodding firmly to cover for his lost word.

“Exhausting, fatiguing, tiresome, or draining,” You supplied, sharing a smile with him and moving around to the back of the chair, bringing him over to the table. “What do you want to drink?”

“Water. It smells really good, mommy.” Theo smiled up at you.

You dropped a couple kisses on his face before going to get him his drink.

Tae was bringing over the side dishes. “You want to stay in your wheelchair, or you want to sit on the chair?”

“Chair, it’s a little too high,” Theo said, touching the table edge, which was practically to his chin.

Tae nodded and pulled the wheelchair back. “Arms around my neck.”

Theo did as he was told and the two of them moved him to the dining chair.

“You okay, baby?” You asked, noticing the way Theo was sort of fidgeting in the chair as you brought the roast over.

Theo looked up at you. “It’s still weird.”

“Your legs?” You guessed, resting your hand on his cheek.

He nodded, leaning into your touch. “I don’t like it.”

“I know. Neither do we. But…there are some things in life that are out of our control.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And we’re going to be with you every moment of the way.”

Theo nodded, sighing. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I was with you,” You teased gently, but you understood exactly what he meant. It had always been the two of you, three once Tae had joined, and while he was in the hospital everything felt wrong. You didn’t get to hold him like you wanted, and it seemed like every time you had him in your arms and both of you were comfortable a nurse would come in to do something or other.

“But we weren’t home,” He said, watching Tae put the bowl of mashed potatoes down. “I really, really missed you daddy.”

Tae came over and nuzzled Theo. “I missed you more.”

“I missed you most,” Theo responded easily.

You hummed softly. “Come on. Time to eat, boys, before it gets cold.”

Theo hummed happily as you filled his plate, immediately trying to cut his own food first before ultimately letting Tae do it. “Too tired. Too hard.”

“That’s fine, kiddo,” Tae answered easily. “We all need help sometimes. And cutting things can be hard. At least you try.”

Theo nodded. “Mommy said that as long as I try, I can make it through the world.”

“Your mom is really smart,” Tae said, smiling at you. “She’s got a good history of trying her best at everything, including taking care of you and me. You chose her well.”

Theo laughed. “I didn’t choose her!”

“What?! Of course you did!” Tae objected, grinning himself. “Every kid chooses their parents!”

Theo and Tae launched into a playful debate and storytime about how every kid chooses their parent while you ate, quietly listening and just enjoying the fact that you were home.

Theo was home.

“Uncle Hobi said that he’d help me catch up to the rest of the class over the summer. I don’t want to do school work in the summer, but I don’t want to be behind. Kevin and Jun were close to being my friends, and they sent more drawings and letters than the other kids.”

“They wanted to visit, too, but they didn’t want to tire you out,” You told him. “We told them that they could come play with you once you were home.”

He grinned. “When? Tomorrow? Tuesday?”

“I’ll talk to their moms and arrange it all, and let you know. But, let’s have a couple days just our family.”

Theo nodded, but then looked back up. “Wait, does that include my uncles?”

“Of course. We’re working on projects together so they’re over quite a bit lately. And they’re coming over tomorrow, remember?” Tae nuzzled Theo, then added more potatoes to his plate. “Eat up.”

“More food?”

Tae nodded. “You need to eat well to recover.”

“Oh. Okay.” Theo started eating the extra food on his plate.

“Only eat until you’re full, though,” You instructed.

“Yes, mommy,” Theo answered, smiling at you.

Your baby was home.

——

“Woohoo!” Theo cheered as he rolled down the ramp at a speed carefully controlled by Jungkook.

You finished edging the window and set your brush aside.

The building for the training center was almost finished, and all of the licensing and training that you all needed, and the first classes were slated to start in three days.

“Over here is our obstacle course, which we think will help those training with us, as well as those in physical therapy, learn how to maneuver around things that they’ll come across on a regular day. As you can see, our happy tester is enjoying going down the ramp after he was working on trying to get up it on his own for a while.” Jimin high-fived Theo as he led the group past. “We’re also finishing painting, so try not to touch the walls unless you like paint on you.”

The people chuckled, fascinated by Jimin’s enthusiastic tour. He was showing some hybrid-shelter owners through the facility to sell them the idea of sending hybrids there for training to increase adoption rates. He’d given multiple tours so far, because he was by-far the best at it, aside from Taehyung, but Taehyung had the disadvantage of being a hybrid.

Hoseok was trailing the group, but split off to join you. “They’re practically eating out of his hand.”

“Good. We have bills coming eventually.”

“Yeah.” He sat down next to you. “But this place is amazing. You guys are going to do really well.”

“I hope so.”

Hoseok handed you the folder. “So, I looked things over.”

“Good news, then?” You asked sarcastically.

“Not bad news. He’s learning more slowly, but he’s still learning. As he grows stronger, I think he’ll be okay. He just gets tired so easily that I think it’s causing his trouble. So, once he gets stronger and isn’t as tired, I think he’ll catch up just fine. But for now, he’s going to stay just a little behind. I’m moving up with the class as part of the new program, so I can keep following his progress and helping him.” He patted your shoulder. “I already talked to the higher-ups about it. They agreed that it was important for him to be with his friends. Especially since we’re working on catching him up. And he’s still a bright kid, that catches on quickly. Tired equals distracted, distracted equals slower learning.”

“Thanks for the crayons, teach,” You answered dryly.

He grinned at you. “Hey, there’s a reason I teach kids.”

“Because you are one?”

He laughed and the two of you watched as Jungkook helped Theo work his way up the easiest ramp so he could go down the hardest again.

“He really likes this place. After we left yesterday, it was all he could talk about,” You told him, smiling as Theo cheered on his way down the ramp again.

“His friends are coming to play here, aren’t they?”

You nodded. “They’ll be here soon. Taehyung is waiting to show them in. Their mom’s were excited to hear that this was practically a playground, rainy days are hard.”

“You could market day-passes and make that one room into a playroom for kids, that’d help bring in more income. I know several sets of parents that would bring their younger kids in, especially on rainy days. And if hybrid rights ever get reestablished, you could make it hybrid friendly which would really help.”

Yoongi paused in the doorway and looked at you.

You looked back, then at Hoseok. “So, we told you you’re a shareholder, right?”

Hoseok nodded.

Yoongi pulled out a notebook and wrote the idea down. “I’ll start pricing things and we can discuss it.”

“Theo!”

You looked over as Kevin and Jun ran over.

“Hi!” Theo greeted them enthusiastically and they started talking.

Taehyung was leading in their mothers.

“I should go talk with them,” You excused yourself and headed over.

“Y/n, it’s so good to see you. Thanks for letting the kids play here, it looks great,” Jun’s mother (Debby?) said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic.

“And safe. Kevin has a habit of hitting his head on everything so I’m glad to see everything is padded. Lumps are easy, cuts are hard,” Kevin’s mother (Jamie?) added. “Plus the rain.”

You nodded. “They’re little balls of energy, but I’m really grateful for you two bringing them. Theo was so excited to hear he would get to see them.”

“Jun’s been asking about Theo almost every week. These past months must have been so hard. I don’t think I could have handled it.”

“I have a really good support system,” You answered easily, turning with them to watch the three boys playing, Jungkook keeping an eye on them to help if Theo got stuck.

The other two boys were being really thoughtful and kind and they saw the wheelchair and Theo being stuck in it as a challenge and a game, which would definitely help. They listened when Jungkook did have to help them and they already seemed to be having fun.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to hang around and keep track of them?” Kevin’s mom asked after giving you her husband’s number as well as Kevin’s backpack.

“We’d be happy to help,” Debby added.

You shook your head. “Go home, relax. Or clean, or whatever you need to get done. I’ve got several helpers on hand if I need them, including their favorite teachers. That is, as long as you’re okay with Jin and Taehyung helping out.”

“Of course, this whole law is ridiculous. It won’t last.” Debby waved a hand as if dismissing the law.

“Can’t last, more like. My favorite babysitter is a golden retriever hybrid, she’s been living in our basement ever since this happened. She was really excited to hear about this place, though, so I told her I would bring her once it was open.”

You smiled. “She’d be very welcome, and just let me know if she wants to take any of the classes.”

They nodded and left after telling their boys to behave and listen to you and the other adults.

You went into different rooms, double-checking the painting and making sure everything looked nice and correct.

Namjoon was sorting through the area rugs, placing them in order by thickness and type. This would make it easier to not only determine what carpets might be easier for people in wheelchairs, but help them and those helping them grow accustomed to the type of challenges that different carpets could present.

Yoongi was going through and making notes of different things that still needed to be finished, or other things that came to mind, as well as double checking some of the safety parameters.

Jimin was still talking with the people he was giving the tour to.

Hoseok was sorting through the spare office supplies that all of you had managed to scrounge up (a lot of yours came from your college years, like the dozen or so sticky note pads, the handful of highlighters, a plethora of paperclips and binder clips, push pins, pencils, pens, erasers, loose-leaf lined paper, binders, folders, and index cards—so many index cards), while keeping the kids in his sight should Tae or Jungkook get distracted.

And Seokjin was setting up the kitchen, which was going to be teaching cooking classes as part of companion training, but also used to show the difficulties a person in a wheelchair would face on one side of the kitchen while the other side was made for people in wheelchairs. He really liked the kitchen, and it was his pet project

Which meant you could go and look at the room that wasn’t being used yet.

Hoseok was right, it would make a really good room for kids playing. Something that would be easy to sanitize, but still allow for the kids to play. A slide would easily fit there, some rock wall-type of holds on the wall there….

You backed out of the room and stuck a sticky-note to the door, labeling it the Jungle room.

Yoongi joined you, giving you a questioning look.

“If we’re going to make a room for all kids to play in, we should have a theme for it. Kids like themes. Jungle is a good theme.”

He nodded. “That cafe I told you about, they said if we get busy enough, they’d love to partner with us and open in the cafeteria.”

“That’d be perfect. For now we’re just going to have to offer snacks by the front desk, though.”

“Jimin is on the phone with the local paper.”

You slowly turned toward him again. “What?”

He nodded. “They called, wanting to talk to someone about this place and Jimin saw me starting to stumble so I pretended I was just an assistant and told them I was handing the phone over to one of the founding members. He’s good at the talking thing. Between him, Jimin, and Tae, we should never need to talk on the phone.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” You answered, hurrying to find Jimin because you wanted to know how the interview went.

“Yes, thank you so much for your inquiries. You have a nice day as well.” Jimin hung up, and grinned at you. “Well, we’re definitely getting some attention!”

“What did they ask? What did you say?”

“Well, they asked why we started this, when we were opening, what we were offering—I added on hybrid companion training for the elderly, but I didn’t think you two would mind—and I gave them the answers, I didn’t divulge first names or anything. I used strictly last names, because even that lends us more anonymity and autonomy. I told them we wanted to help our community and those who were currently suffering—I even added that our training areas worked great for kids playing when it was raining outside because they could hear the boys laughing. They asked if we had considered opening it as a playground for the kids as well when it wasn’t being used for training and I answered yes—but I also added that we’d need another permit or two that we haven’t filed for yet. We have considered that, right?”

“We have, actually, we were talking about turning one of the rooms into a kids playroom specifically. Then if we have hybrids who have kids, the kids can play while their parents are in classes,” Yoongi said, definitely adding that to his notebook, as well as the elderly thing. “This is going to be a life-long project, isn’t it?”

“If we’re lucky,” Jimin answered cheerfully.

You left Yoongi grumbling to go check on the boys, noticing that Theo wasn’t playing as much, but he was still laughing with them and apparently they were rescuing him from pirates or something.

Taehyung wrapped an arm around your waist. “You know…I’m really proud of you.”

You relaxed into his hold, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m really happy Theo chose you as his father.”

“I’m really happy you let him,” He whispered, then tilted your chin up to gaze into your eyes for a moment.

Then he leaned in and kissed you, softly and gently, a silent promise for forever.

“I knew it!” Theo yelled happily, definitely staring at you two when you looked over. “YES!”

“Whoops,” You whispered, trying not to laugh. It seemed an age ago that you told Theo not to expect the two of you fall in love. Told him he could call Taehyung his father if he really wanted to.

An age since Taehyung first kissed you.

A lifetime since you told Theo he could adopt a hybrid.

Taehyung laughed and kissed you again. “Thank you for my family.”

“Does that mean you don’t want more pups?” You asked cheekily.

He shrugged. “I’m satisfied with whatever I get in life. If that’s more kids, then I’m not going to complain. But Theo’s enough for me.”

You kissed his cheek and rested in his arms, knowing everything in your future was going to be worth the trials. But he was a natural at helping you through it.

You couldn’t ask for anything better than this.

–

Previous.

Taehyung Masterpost. Masterlist.

Tagging: @alex–awesome–22 @missmoxxiesworld @bryvada @knjhe @i-dont-even-know-fck @forvever-ddaeng @ncttzuuy @briramirezalipio @givebuckysomelove @bunnyboyenthusiast @rosita7703 @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lottosehunnie @forevermoremagcon @kpopgirlbtssvt @0mysticx0 @littlewolfieposts @kerikaaria @hemmofluke @beauthiefully

#single mom!reader #single mom au #taehyung #taehyung x reader #hybrid!taehyung #adoptedfather!taehyung #hybrid au #bts fic #bts x reader #kim taehyung #V #parent au #yoongi #seokjin #namjoon #jimin #jungkook #hoseok

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest.

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles.

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.”

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack.

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you’d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself.

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window.

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air.

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze.

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay.

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven’t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take.

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely.

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?”

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line.

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot.

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests.

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening.

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!”

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity.

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.”

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest.

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest.

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.”

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo.

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips.

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.”

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you.

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together.

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau.

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead.

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt.

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back.

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him.

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime.

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes.

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon fic #queen #queen fic #j writes

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shannygoatgruff · 3 years

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Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple.

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits.

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old. Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone.

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge.

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends?

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge.

Lucky son-of-a-bitch.

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word.

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years.

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away.

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again.

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her.

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid.

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers.

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family.

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits.

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned.

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked.

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves.

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep.

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him.

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him.

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair.

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy.

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her.

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her.

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1 @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @didiintheblog @revolution-starter

#OnlyFan(s)#modern ivar #shannyland #trifecta

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hibiscustea9 · 3 years

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10,000 views on “Fire Walk with Me”!

YOU GUYS. Late last night, “Fire Walk with Me” hit 10,000 views. I am beyond blown away by this. Nothing I have ever written has come anywhere close to the reception this story has gotten. To celebrate, I’m going to make the sort of post I don’t usually make and share one of my headcanons for each of the Stardew Valley villagers (excepting the few who don’t have any real impact on the story, like Gil and the Ginger Island villagers). Read on below the jump to see these (some of which have been shared already in “Fire Walk with Me”) and thank you, thank you for all of your support and reading this story. It’s made me so very happy.

Abigail secretly loves disco music. She hates the aesthetic and clothing of the era, but she will rock out to any of the great disco bands or divas when in her room and with her earbuds in. She would sooner die than have Sam and Sebastian find out about this.

Alex had offers to attend several universities on a full ride scholarship to play gridball, but turned them down out of fear of failing out of school. After high school, he was diagnosed as dyslexic. His teachers were encouraged to just pass him through without making him complete the work, which left him deeply insecure. He now has plans to go to trade school, which he feels might be his ticket out of Pelican Town.

Caroline is the wizard’s daughter, and a lay green witch. Her father was a sailor who was lost at sea and Rasmodius comforted her mother (which is the regret Rasmodius has that broke up his marriage). Caroline’s hair is naturally green. She is not aware of her magic, which manifests mostly as being able to grow any plants she wishes.

Clint left Pelican Town to go to college, only to have to come back when his father died to take care of his mother. He was a voice major and has a lovely singing voice, though he’s often too shy to show it off these days.

Demetrius is a skilled teacher and used to adjunct biology classes at Grampleton Community College to help support his family when Robin was getting her carpentry business off the ground. While he enjoyed teaching, the commute and long hours burnt him out after a year and he hasn’t felt the urge to teach since.

The Dwarf is a huge movie buff, but even more than the films, she enjoys turning around while sitting in the front row to look at the faces of the people watching the films.

Elliott is not a citizen of Ferngill but a foreign national. His posh accent and vocabulary rubbed some townsfolk the wrong way when he moved to Pelican Town. He managed to get on the good side of those same townsfolk when he accidentally knocked his bait bucket all over himself at his first Festival of Ice but continued fishing through it, coming in a respectable second to Willy that year.

Emily genuinely believes in the healing power of crystals and positive thinking, though she also has great respect for traditional medicine. She often asks Harvey medical questions when he’s at the bar. For his part, Harvey truly enjoys being able to talk about his discipline with anyone else, even a crunchy granola type like Emily.

Evelyn stopped believing in Yoba after her daughter was diagnosed with cancer and died young, leaving Alex in her care. She has never let on, given how George makes a point of attending weekly services. Seeing how much Clara suffered, first in an abusive marriage and then going through the failed treatment for her cancer, left Evelyn unable to believe in an all-powerful deity. Instead, she aims to spread as much kindness as she can, seeking salvation in other people instead of worship of Yoba.

George started watching so much television when Alex came to live with him and Evelyn. He didn’t like TV much before then, but got in the habit of letting Alex stay up late and watch reruns with him. While he claims to enjoy westerns the most, he has a not-so-secret love for classic game show reruns. The way the women dress reminds him of Evelyn when she was young, though he thinks none of them are quite as pretty as Evelyn.

Gus used to run a successful restaurant in the Zuzu City suburbs and is a classically-trained chef. The stress of running the restaurant and being in charge of both the front and back of the house took a toll on his health and his doctors recommended he step back and find something less strenuous to do. With his proceeds from selling the restaurant, he built the Stardrop Saloon and now is much happier with his life.

Gunther is a local son of Pelican Town who moved away to attend grad school in library science. He had a job in Zuzu City but moved back when he learned of the theft of the collection. He secretly resents returning to Pelican Town, which he was eager to leave, but feels it is his duty to stay and ensure the library is taken care of.

Haley’s ringtone on her phone is the National Geographic theme. When she was young, her parents took her and Emily all over the world and she grew fascinated with other cultures and other places. She has planned all the trips she wants to take. As much as she and Emily bicker, Emily is her favorite travel companion.

Harvey and his family were very poor when he was growing up. When he was fourteen, his sister contracted scarlet fever and they were unable to afford a doctor’s visit. A local doctor from a clinic came by and left medicine at her own expense. This led Harvey to pursue medicine as a career; he could make much more money in Grampleton or Zuzu City, but he stays on in Pelican Town because they really need a doctor.

Jas helped Shane with his experiments in breeding the chickens. She has a natural head for science and once she got hold of Shane’s books, she plotted out how to look for recessive genes that would allow for chickens to be bred and emerge with blue feathers. She and Shane have a gentlemen’s agreement to not tell Marnie.

Jodi worked as a travel agent before she married Kent. She always envisioned the trips they would take as soon as they had the money, and then when Sam was grown, and then when Vincent was grown. She sometimes stays up late on the computer, looking at flight plans and planning the most affordable trips that would allow her to travel and see the places she most wants to see in the world.

Kent found comfort in another soldier when they were in the Gotoro prison camp. Though it became physical, it was more about finding something to hold onto than about the sex. His guilt over this relationship kept him distant from Jodi and his sons when he first returned. After confessing his indiscretion to Jodi, they attended relationship counseling. She has forgiven him, but he has yet to forgive himself.

Krobus is technically a liquid.

Leah earned an M.F.A. from Zuzu State, where she met and became friends with Elliott. Prior to attending her program, she interned as an apprentice carpenter in Grampleton. It was these same contacts who told her about Pelican Town and Robin, who let Leah stay at her home while she looked for a house to rent in town. Leah not so secretly has a crush of admiration on Robin.

Lewis, before becoming mayor of Pelican Town, owned a leatherworking business. He misses working with his hands, which is one of the reasons why he always visits the shopkeepers and is insistent on there being booths at the Stardew Valley Fair for the artisans in town to show off their wares.

Linus used to live in Pelican Town. He has a living relative in town. [REMAINDER REDACTED: SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING CHAPTERS OF “FIRE WALK WITH ME”]

Marlon saved George’s life the day of the mine cave-in. He was the only one willing to enter the caves and seek out the last missing miner. It was in the process of doing so that a falling rock blinded him in one eye. Despite his injury, Marlon managed to pull George to safety up through the mine shafts. Though his lost eye made him unable to be an active member of the Adventurer’s Guild, Marlon does not regret anything and would absolutely do it again.

Marnie wanted to be a veterinarian. She did very well in college, earning a degree in animal sciences from Zuzu State, and was on the verge of leaving Pelican Town permanently to pursue vet school when she interned at a vet’s office in Grampleton for a summer. She was so distraught the first time she had to assist with putting a dog to sleep that she gave up on the career and decided to open her ranch. She makes it a point to be present any time an animal has to be put to sleep to give it comfort, even though it wrecks her emotionally.

Maru got into science after Sebastian was completely uninterested in a chemistry set he got one year for the Feast of the Winter Star. She is still passionate about chemistry, despite her other interests in biology and robotics. She was briefly the most popular kid in town, despite being younger than most of the other young adults, when she learned how to make ice cream using ingredients found in any kitchen.

Morris was a child actor who had a small role in Junimo Forest, a nearly-forgotten children’s movie from more than forty years ago. He owns six of the known twenty surviving copies of the film.

Mr. Qi took Sandy on as his ward after her parents, who worked for him, died suddenly. He considers Sandy to be his own daughter and always looks out for her. It’s why the Oasis is still in business despite barely getting any customers.

Pam and Penny used to live above the library. Pam’s husband and Penny’s father was the former curator, who made off with the entire collection on a day when Pam took Penny to an academic competition her senior year of high school. The trailer was the only thing they could afford to move into. This was when Pam started drinking so heavily and Penny started longing so much to live in a house of her own.

Pierre holds a degree in economics that he wanted to use to help boost his family’s business. His secret stash is stock options that he has been investing in since taking over Pierre’s General Store from his father. Neither Caroline nor Abigail knows about this money that Pierre is sitting on.

(I am not the biggest fan of Pierre, in case you can’t guess.)

Rasmodius only built his tower after his daughter, Caroline, was born. He has looked over Caroline and her family ever since. Though his lifespan will last far beyond Caroline’s, he plans to watch over Abigail after she is gone, as well as any children Abigail has, or their descendants. His greatest regret is not being present in Caroline’s life as she was growing up.

Robin wanted to be a ballroom dancer, but at 5′11 was far too tall to actually enter the ballroom circuit. She met Demetrius at amateur ballroom dancing lessons and still knows how to perform any ballroom or Latin dances she learned. Her favorite dance is the tango because of the crisp precision required. After she retires, she and Demetrius have a plan to travel and dance the tango in all of the countries where it is taught.

Sam, despite a love of pranks, only ever really got in trouble once while in high school. He and Sebastian cut class and went to a local park, where Sam skateboarded and Sebastian smoked. A missed trick made Sam get so scraped up he had road rash for a month. After he got home, Jodi read him the riot act for once and grounded him from skateboarding until school was out. That was when Sam got into guitar and started thinking seriously about a career in music.

Sandy met Emily at a holistic retreat. She used to work for Mr. Qi, selling snake oil (literally - his iridium milk sells for a huge amount to those in the know), but was so energized by her encounter and conversation with Emily that she decided to go into running her own store.

Sebastian’s favorite adult in town (other than his mom) is Marnie, who recognizes in him a kindred spirit. Marnie taught Sebastian how to catch frogs when he was young and he still occasionally seeks her out to talk to and ask advice from. He vehemently dislikes Lewis because of his refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Marnie, and wants to see Marnie in a relationship with someone who will treat her right.

Shane was on track to be a major gridball star, and was the hope of Stardew Valley High, before getting in a car accident senior year. He almost lost a leg and had to spend six months relearning how to walk. He began drinking heavily afterward to cope with the constant physical pain. Marnie reached out to friends of his in Zuzu City, who had him come live with them and dry out. He remained sober until three months after he moved back to Pelican Town with Jas, his goddaughter. He started drinking again after working at JojaMart, much to Marnie’s dismay.

Vincent changes what he wants to be when he grows up on a weekly basis. Past desired jobs have included soldier (like his dad), musician (like his brother), teacher (like Miss Penny, but something fun like art, not yucky like spelling), game show host, Flower Queen, surfer, and astronaut. Jodi amuses herself by imagining what her son will wear to work on the weeks where he insists he’s going to be some combination of the above.

Willy is a veteran of the Ferngill Coast Guard. He is from the Fern Islands but vowed never to return after some of his siblings disputed his father’s will and caused a massive feud. He joined the Coast Guard as a way to stay on the water and get away from the islands. He was honorably discharged after suffering an injury on a rescue mission and decided to settle in the most peaceful seaside town in Ferngill that he could find, which led him to Pelican Town.

Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading “Fire Walk with Me”! I hope you enjoyed these headcanons and that they give you some insight into some of the way I’ve written characters in the story.

#stardew valley #headcanons

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

It's been years since anyone besides Maria's friends joined her for lunch. There had been a time once when everyone knew that if you wanted to speak with Maria Stark, you found her at the little cafe by the park but that time is long gone. The offers had mostly stopped coming some twenty years ago and then she had had Tony and the offers had stopped altogether and now Maria Stark often ate alone, almost always unbothered because who would notice an old, washed-up actress like herself?

Here’s the second of the works for the celebration! I got a lot of comments about Maria Stark and what happened next between her and Tony after she attended the show so here it is, a conversation between Maria and Tony about the show, his childhood, and her regrets. Can be read either on ao3 or below the read more

For as long as Maria could remember, Wednesdays had been the day that she dined at Le Petit Café. It was a small restaurant, not very expensive with simple, rustic decor, but with a wonderful view of Central Park. When she had first moved to New York all those years ago after telling her parents that she was giving up her inheritance to become an actress, Le Petit had been all that she could afford. She had met her first director there, Mr. Robbins, whose musical had recently lost its star and needed a replacement. Maria had heard wonderful things about West Side Story and when he had asked her if she wanted the role without even bothering to audition her, all because she looked a certain way, she had known better than to turn him down.

That had been the start of it but it certainly hadn’t been the end. All through her long career, she had met directors and coworkers and friends at Le Petit. She’d even taken Howard once or twice, though he had never shown the same reverence for it as everyone else had so she had stopped. Everyone had known it—if you wanted to meet Maria Stark, you waited until Wednesday and then you found her at a little café by the park.

It had been years since anyone other than her friends joined her for lunch and even they didn’t come very often. Time was, she always had someone to eat with her: directors, producers, anyone and everyone who wanted to curry the good favor of Maria Stark. But the offers had mostly stopped coming some twenty years ago and then she had had Tony and the offers had stopped altogether and now Maria Stark often ate alone, almost always unbothered because who would notice an old, washed-up actress like herself?

Still, she went anyway and for an hour, she lost herself in the memories of when times were better, when she was still young and beautiful and graced the stage of every major production on Broadway.

The current owners, a brother and sister, took over the business from their parents. Maria had been coming here since their mother had been pregnant with their older sibling. She had watched these two grow up; they called her Auntie and always had her table reserved for her when she stepped through the door.

Except today, Ellie greeted her with a worried expression and whispered, “I’m so sorry, I tried to tell him the table was reserved but he refused to hear it. He—”

Maria held up a hand to stop her apologies. She could see the back of the head of the person who stole her table and, while for a moment she had been worried that it had been someone younger and more beautiful than her, someone who could take her table from her for good, she didn’t think she had anything to worry about from the person sitting there.

“It’s alright, Eleanor,” she said quietly. “It’s just my son.”

Her words gave Ellie pause. In Le Petit, Maria hadn’t been Maria Stark since years before Ellie and Russell had been born. The last time she’d brought Howard here had been decades earlier and she hadn’t brought Tony here since he had been a baby and Ellie and Russell only a few years older, too young then to remember him. She rather suspected that the siblings had thought her an old woman alone and mostly friendless.

And were they wrong? she thought as she wound her way through the tables. She and Janet rarely went to this café, choosing instead the fancy places that Janet van Dyne would be expected to be seen at. Most of her other friends had long since left New York and the ones that stayed were not the sort of friends she would take to her safe haven. Maria had spent most of her old age alone, her son kicked out of their home and her husband too busy to pay attention to her. She wondered sometimes, if she had done things differently, would she still be eating alone every Wednesday?

“Hello, Anthony,” she said as she drew even with the table.

Tony turned to her, smiling as he stood to greet her. “Ciao, Mama,” he said cheerfully and leaned forward to give her a hug. Surprised, she let him hug her. She couldn’t remember the last time Tony had done that, deciding it had probably been when he had still been a child. The Starks had not been a particularly affectionate family.

“How have you been?” Maria asked as she sat across from him.

He shrugged, a careless yet elegant movement that she recognized as practiced. She wondered if he’d learned it from her or if it was something he had picked up during his own years on the stage. “I’m sure you’ve read the papers,” he said casually.

Russell came out of the kitchen personally to greet them and take their drink orders: a mimosa for Maria because she found the ones here to be excellent and water for Tony.

“I’d rather hear it from you,” she said as Russell disappeared into the kitchen again.

He gazed at her, eyes open and frank. She didn’t know who he got that from, that open, emotional stare. The eyes might be the windows to the soul but hers and Howard’s had always been shuttered.

Eventually, he said, “You came to the show.”

Oh.

That was what this whole thing was about. That was why he was here. She was almost surprised he had waited so long. The show had been running for two months and she only went to the premiere.

“I did,” she replied evenly. Tony glanced away, out the window where someone was walking their dog past the restaurant. He watched them go and then turned back to her, raising his eyebrows.

“And?”

“Anthony, my darling, you were magnificent,” she murmured.

She hadn’t even noticed he was restless until he suddenly went still.

“You don’t mean that,” he said and his voice sounded so very pained that she longed to get out of her seat and hold her baby like she had when he had been young. She hadn’t wanted to do that in years, too resentful that she couldn’t go back to acting with a child under her belt.

“I do,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you before. I—I’ve gone to all of your shows but this was the first premiere. Anthony, truly, I haven’t seen a more talented actor in—in a very long time.”

Tony took an unsteady breath. “No,” he said desperately, like it was the only thing he knew. “You never go to my shows.”

She could have told him that she did but she doubted he would believe it. And honestly, she didn’t blame him. Maria didn’t make a big deal out of going to his shows the way she did for others. She almost hadn’t even gone to Midsummer, convinced that he wouldn’t have wanted her there on his big night. Janet had been the one to convince her to go and Maria had agreed on the condition that Tony wouldn’t know she was there.

“Right after your father—” she stopped. Right after Howard kicked him out. She didn’t know why she couldn’t say the words, they both knew what had happened. They had both been there. She cleared her throat. “You got a chorus role in Wicked. The director took a chance on you and hasn’t worked since then because your father was furious about it. It was the role that convinced you to make yourself look like bad news so that only the truly determined would hire you. You didn’t even have a single line in that play but I remember being so proud of you for giving it your all.

“Your next role was larger but it was still a side character, some small show that only ran for two months. I don’t even remember the name of the show anymore but I remember that you were a ranch hand. You wore blue overalls and a red bandanna and grew your hair out. That was what you did for two years, side characters in small shows while you built up your reputation of being difficult to work with, until Coulson hired you. Janet said you had offers though, larger roles, larger shows. You turned them all down though and let the directors say that they turned you away because of your reputation. I know your career, I followed it.”

There was a wet sheen to Tony’s eyes and Maria looked away to give him some privacy while he pulled himself back together. It was what she would have wanted, after all. Their drinks arrived and she ordered for both of them, giving Tony more time to dry his eyes. She may not have had much to do with her son but she still knew his preferences.

“You never said anything,” Tony said as Russell walked away.

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to,” she said simply. She believed it be true too, right up until Tony dropped his gaze to his lap, picking at the cloth napkin. “Did you?”

“I thought you agreed with him. That I was an—an abomination and all the other things Howard told me I was. It wasn’t like you were an affectionate parent.”

Maria didn’t really know what to say to that. She grew up in a time and place where wives supported their husbands and even when she moved to New York, those teachings had stuck with her, so while she hadn’t agreed with Howard for the things he did and said to their son, she hadn’t spoken out against him either. She had wondered, many times, in the years since then if she had made a mistake but it hadn’t been until this moment right here that she knew just how big of a mistake it was.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, and Tony knew it too, judging by the way his mouth twisted.

“Yeah, me too,” he muttered.

They were quiet for a time, sipping at their drinks and avoiding each other’s gaze. Their food arrived—French onion soup for Maria and a Monte Cristo for Tony—and then they were even quieter as they ate. She didn’t know how to break the silence or if Tony even wanted her to. For all she knew, he wanted her to pay for this meal and then be out of his life for good. She was starting to think she wouldn’t blame him if that was what he wanted.

“But you saw it,” Tony said eventually, breaking the silence between them. He dropped his knife onto his plate with a clatter. It had always amused her that her little boy hated messy food, that he ate almost everything with a knife and fork—except for burgers. Those, he ate with his hands.

“I did,” she agreed.

“And you liked it.”

“Except for the part where you jumped off a balcony.”

Tony smiled slyly. “Really? That was my favorite part.”

She smiled back, just as sly. “I thought that would have been you making out with Oberon.”

Tony blushed bright red. “You—you saw that?”

“Anthony, I went to the show. Of course I saw that.”

“I like him,” Tony said quietly. “Steve, I mean. He—uh—he helped me get out of my relationship with Ty.”

Maria knew from Janet just how bad the relationship with Tiberius Stone had gotten and she’d read all about how Coulson had quietly gotten the stage manager blackballed from the entire industry. Last she heard, he was currently trying to find jobs in London—and was completely unsuccessful.

“I’m glad,” she said. “I always thought you deserved better.”

Tony didn’t look like he completely believed her. That was fair. She had never given him any indication that she cared about anything that went on in his life, let alone Tiberius other than a single text after the breakup. How could he have possibly known that she hadn’t liked that boy since the first time she met him, that she had only been friendly and cordial to the Stones because Howard wanted her to be?

She let the subject drop though—there were times to pick a fight and this wasn’t one of them—and asked him instead, “But you like this boy?”

Tony blushed again. “He’s not a boy, Mama.”

“Of course not,” she demurred and winked at him. Tony’s blush deepened. “He’s all man, isn’t he?”

“Mama!” Tony declared, scandalized. She laughed but gamely decided to stop teasing him, even though it was like he was her little boy again with his first crush on little Hope Pym.

“And he’s good to you?” she asked gently.

“He’s so good, Mama,” Tony said softly, sounded absolutely smitten. “Our first date was a little rough—we both decided it was too soon after the breakup—but he didn’t dump me. He just—took me back to my apartment and we made a pillow fort.”

Maria smiled wistfully. She remembered the early days of her relationship with Howard when he would have done something like that for her. Or maybe he never would have and she had just been too blind to see it.

“I’m glad,” she said simply.

Tony glanced out the window again, seemingly to avoid her sincere comment but when Maria followed his gaze, she saw the man himself getting out of a taxi. “He’s welcome to join us,” she said.

“Nah, we wouldn’t intrude like that,” Tony said, finishing off the last couple bites of his sandwich. “He’s just here to pick me up. There’s a new ice cream place that opened up a couple blocks away. We thought it sounded like a fun date.”

He dug his wallet out of his pocket and handed his card to Russell before Maria could stop him. “Anthony,” she murmured disapprovingly. “I’m your mother.”

“And I interrupted your lunch. Let me pay.” He looked back and smiled sadly. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Talk to you about—about everything.”

“I understand.” And she did. She understood that this was the first step in a long road to reconciliation, if they were capable of it at all.

As he was buttoning up his coat, he paused and offered, “You know, we know it’s still a few months off from Christmas but Steve and I wanted to extend the invitation to you. Just you but, you know, if you’re not doing anything this year.”

She probably was. Howard would probably want them to go to another networking Christmas party the way they always did and he’d want his Tony Award-winning wife there to support him. But she smiled anyways and said, “That sounds lovely.”

The smile Tony gave her in return was a knowing one that said he knew perfectly well she likely wouldn’t take them up on the offer at all. But he didn’t press the issue, just said, “Ciao, Mama.” And then he was gone, without even a hug. They weren’t an affectionate family after all.

But then she watched him go, watched him greet his boyfriend with a huge smile and a hug, watched Steve Rogers wrap his arms around Tony’s waist and bend him backwards in a thorough kiss, watched Tony’s cheeks pink again though he didn’t try to move away, instead leaning in closer against Steve’s side. The Starks weren’t an affectionate family but maybe Tony was an affectionate person.

“Miss Carbonell?” she heard Russell ask. “Can we tempt you with dessert today?”

She turned away from the window, away from her happy, laughing son, and gave Russell a smile that’s probably more bitter around the edges than she meant for it to be.

“Can’t you always?”

#alle writes #1000 followers celebration #tony & maria #stevetony #tw homophobia #because howard's a dick

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lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

Text

Evergreen

IT’S HERE! IT’S DONE! THANK THE GODS!!!!!

This was something I originally just did a drabble on and then... well... ended up as an out of control monstersity of 26 freakin’ pages. It’s based off this original post and artwork by @heavenin--hell

Thank you to @superpixie42 and @sapphirestarxx as always for reading my dumpster work

@dangerouspompadour this will be the universe your b-day gift takes place in

@dangerouspompadour @lemonlushff @willowandfog @cstormsinukagblog @keichanz @littlestuffstohide @clearwillow @ruddcatha @hnnwnchstr @smmahamazing @wolverine1092 @inuyashaloverforever @xfangheartx @umacaking @bluejay785 @murdergiraffe @faulkner-blog

ALSO POSTED HERE ON MY AO3

ENJOYYYYYYYYYYYY

“What an arrogant, selfish, son of a–UGH! Like he has any right to say ANYTHING!!!!” Kagome seethed.

“Miss Kagome, the master means well,” Myouga tried to soothe the young woman about Inuyasha’s attitude towards her attire.

“You mean ‘means well’ as him being a crazy, overprotective, wordy, arrogant, prick?!”

“Miss Kagome, how much do you truly know about demons?” Myouga asked.

“Well as much as my research has told me, which unfortunately isn’t a lot compared to what I’ve learned just by being with Inuyasha for the past couple weeks. I mean, I just learned demons are actually in hiding when we had believed them to be instinct! It’s incredible! My actual professor is a demon!”

“Well, allow me to–ahem–share some things with you about inu-youkai in particular.”

“‘Dog demons’?”

“Preciously. That is the lineage of which my master Inuyasha is derived from.”

“Well I knew that from the way he snarls, growls, and basically barks,” she added rolling her eyes laughing at her own joke.

“Inu-youkai make perfect Guardians because they typically… find one person they wish to protect, and they latch on. They become overly protective of their uhm… ‘Chosens’, if you will. When Inu-youkai bred, their sons or daughters were often picked to become Guardians because their heritage made them perfect protectors. If they trained hard enough, they would be granted a member of the royal lineage to protect. There, of course, were other demons who also became Guardians such as ookami and kitsune.”

“But wasn’t his Chosen killed five-hundred years ago? Didn’t she seal him away? The guy doesn’t even know why… And why would he suddenly be so assertive in protecting me from a guy I happen to work with? I’m obviously not his Chosen or whatever. There’s no reason for me to have a Guardian. He just mistook me for her when I accidentally woke him up. Why is he still insistent he, I don’t know, follow me around like a guard dog? You just said they latch on to their Chosens, so obviously he’s just being crazy!”

Myouga sighed. He knew the young girl knew and felt more than she was letting on. If anything, she was just trying to save her young heart… The master was stubborn and after everything that happened five-hundred years ago, he couldn’t blame him. But he also knew his master was foolish, and Kikyo was not his actual Chosen… He could only hope his master could come to terms with his instincts before the damage he caused the poor girl was irreversible.

Clearing his throat, he informed the young woman, “Youkai do not choose their Chosens; their Chosens are picked for them and I do not mean by the council. Just because they are given a royal member to protect, that did not make them their Chosen.”

“Wait, I’m confused–what–”

“Chosens are picked by a demon’s internal instincts, Miss Kagome. Once they have picked, they cannot let go.”

“I’m still confused; what does that have to do with me?”

“Sigh, you will learn soon, Miss Kagome. I am unfortunately not allowed to give any further information; I can only hope the master will be more forthcoming in time…” Myouga couldn’t give her anything else. Not until his master was ready. While the young miss was intelligent, he knew she had not caught the double meaning of the word Chosen. It had meant a mate, in the terms of youkai culture and for humans, a mortal a guard would protect. It was not Myouga’s place to tell the young woman that Kikyo had been his ward in a sense, but not his mate. His mate was Kagome and Kagome alone.

She thought quietly to herself on their walk to the museum to meet Hojo; she obviously had much more to learn from Inuyasha and she grew more determined in that moment that she would be pursuing that knowledge whether he chose to give it or not. It had been a couple weeks since she had awoken the half-demon. He was striking… handsome… daring… She bit her lip at the thoughts that his body stirred within her. It was embarrassing to be that attracted to someone she honestly didn’t know much about. But she also really admired him. Intellectually, he was a very fast learner. Stubborn. Quick to anger. Loyal. Ugh! He drove her crazy! What sucked was it sometimes was in a good way…

He had told her very little about his past. Bare minimum to be exact. She gathered from his experience of being sealed, he was very distrusting given that his last Chosen, Kikyo, claimed he betrayed her. She sealed him as punishment and when he awoke, she was gone—and Kagome was in her place. He mistook her for Kikyo because they looked so similar and he tried to just serve her, but she could tell how much he loathed it. It was rather annoying.

After things had been cleared up and he finally realized she wasn’t his master or whatever he thought she was, he seemed lost. Distant. Irritable. He didn’t want to divulge more and basically always looked at her out the side of his eyes in a… securable kind of way. Like he was studying her. Anytime she asked him what was wrong he would grunt and turn away. That in itself was maddening.

Honestly, she felt bad for the guy; obviously something happened between Kikyo and him… maybe he was more than just her Guardian maybe they were…in love. She was what he referred to as his Chosen.

But that was five-hundred years ago. Then again, to him it was a month ago. She resembled Kikyo, sure. Myouga even mistook her for the old priestess. That was probably half of the problem of why he couldn’t actually move on with his life. She was familiar to him but at the same time not. He made sure to rub her face in how unlike his former Chosen she was. Good. Fine. Whatever. She didn’t want to be like her anyway. She had been perfectly fine, living her life for the past twenty-three years without him anyway. She didn’t need to be reminded that she wasn’t… anybody else. She was Kagome; a student at the university, hand-picked by Totosai to explore the tombs to study the materials to prepare for her master’s thesis… She didn’t need to be anybody else for someone to fall in love with her.

Wait a—why did her thoughts go there?! They’d only known each other for a month! He hated her—yea sure, he protected her when those demons came alive at the museum, but he still felt it was his sworn duty to his master, Chosen, whatever Kikyo was to him. Sigh. She was pathetic. Maybe she should have just accepted Hojo’s proposal to be courted. She wasn’t getting any younger. She was too different from other women in this era anyway. The twenties were so...blah. She didn’t want to be a good little housewife. She preferred pants to dresses, research to makeup, and spoke her mind rather than kept quiet. Hojo might be what she needed to accept; but she definitely felt torn because now she knew what it was like to desire someone. To have some weird but magical pull towards someone she barely knew but couldn’t help wanting to learn everything about. But she knew that would never happen. He obviously had no desire other than to make her life and job a living hell. He… loved Kikyo. Kikyo was his Chosen. Not her. Not regular plain old boring Kagome. Just as Myouga said, ‘Chosens’ are picked by instinct. And his Chosen was gone.

What she didn’t realize as she was lost in her thoughts was someone lurking in the shadows behind her as she entered the museum to meet Hojo for the fundraiser. Someone who was not Inuyasha.

“What is wrong with that girl?” he asked himself, still sitting in the room where Kagome left him. Didn’t she realize by now he was supposed to protect her? Did their first run in at the museum teach her literally nothing?!

“Gods she’s just a–” he couldn’t finish that thought. The past couple of weeks had proven to him she was definitely not Kikyo. She was abrasive, vocal, assertive, annoying, stubborn, spoiled, quirky, kind, caring, beautiful–whooooaaaaaaaaa. And there went his thoughts again to a place he couldn’t go.

He exhaled in frustration. His instincts were all over the place. Five hundred years ago it was easier… Guardians were typically assigned a family to protect--specifically royal families or those who held important positions in the kingdom. Kikyo, the high priestess, and he were of similar age so he was placed with her. She required a full time Guardian due to her position in the palace. Her parents had been killed in one of the uprisings and she cared for her younger sister, Kaede. Kaede was still in training to become a priestess as well but lived in a different sector of the castle. He had grown to care immensely for the young woman. She was sworn to her duty. They were a fine match. Then all that crazy shit happened.

He felt betrayed. Hurt. But he was her Guardian. He was but a tool for her to use. While Guardians held their place by the ones they protected, sometimes more came out of it, other times they lived chaste lifestyles. Not every Guardian met their Chosen when they were assigned a family. He was but a half-demon. Not good enough for anyone or anything. He trained hard and proved himself in the trials to make his father proud since his brother had decided on a different way of life. The council had chosen him to become a Guardian because of all his hard work. It was almost unheard of that a half-demon made the selection. Not that half-demons were scarce. He, in fact, had been born because his father was placed with his own mother as a Guardian. But most had taken their places in the royal court with their families when that occurred—something Inuyasha didn’t want. He wanted a ‘simple’ life—to protect just like his father had.

He passed all the tests and made the cut—then he had been placed with Kikyo and it was a good match; they worked well together. But that’s when things almost fell apart. Things he refused to think about, too fresh, too painful, took place and before he knew it, he was sealed away because of his ‘treachery’. But it was who had betrayed him. Then in a blink, he awoke and mistook Kagome for Kikyo.

He learned quickly they were nothing alike and her scent–Gods–that woman’s scent. It did things to him… things like the other Guardians spoke of with their assigned families when they found their Chosen. Like what his father said about his mother. They had referred to the ones they were assigned to protect as their Chosens—whether they were to mate with them or live a companionable life with them. His father’s Chosen, his mother, turned out to be his mate. It had been such a scandal because he had already mated with his brother’s mother. But the other demons understood, humans did not.

His mother left the royal family to be with his father and they moved to live with the regular citizens. This had been one of the reasons he desired to take his place as Guardian—to prove his father had not dirtied their blood or soiled their name as the Taisho clan.

When he met Kikyo he had thought she was beautiful. Refined. Poised. He had only thought that after they had met, they would probably grow to fall in love like others said. His father explained it wasn’t like that though. Inuyasha equated the mis-hit due to this human half. But now, he knew. He knew exactly what his father meant all those years ago. He had literally been slapped in the face and had his instincts take hold and never want to let go of that beautiful scent that was Kagome. To always be with her—someone who he had now sworn to protect, not out of duty, but out of desire. To love, cherish, and mate with her… Fuck. His mind and heart were literally at war. It wasn’t fuckin’ right.

To top off his emotional and instinctual angst, his fuckin’ chosen is out now with another male. Hobo or whatever. Yea, she said it was to gather information. Yea, Myouga was with her. Didn’t mean she had to show that much skin. Even though that teal dress was beautiful, her bare back was so alluring, her hair pinned up, her neck calling his name to bite and suckle. Mark. Dammit. He guessed to be fair… he had been avoiding her. Ignoring her to the best of his abilities anyway. After the shit in the past, how could he allow himself to get close to someone else? To be that vulnerable? It may have been five-hundred years for everyone else, but it had only been maybe a month for him…

How could he even bring himself to open up such a sensitive topic? Let alone pour out his heart to a mortal who likely would look at him like he was crazy? Say, “Oh hey, I know you just learned demons are real and shit, but they also know their Chosens by scent and you’re it. You’re meant to be with me. Let’s go fuck.” Yea. Right. She’d probably push him back in the tomb and close the fucking door saying to hell with her research.

His eyes widened as he took in a scent of someone familiar, someone from his past, but someone he had also never met. He could sense a demon nearby. KAGOME!

He took off running down the street, forgoing his charm to change him into his human form. He needed his claws out and ready for whatever dumb bastard that thought they could attack his Chosen; they were gravely mistaken!

Son of a bitch! He froze at the entrance of the museum. He recognized this scent… It belonged to some other mortal Kikyo had a decent amount of contact with; likely someone who had been in the infirmary. Inuyasha’s guardianship wasn’t needed in that area according to Kikyo. How could they have survived this long—as a mortal—and especially if they were in that sick area being treated by the high priestess?

“Miss Kagome, come this way! Let’s go meet with the financial coordinator!” Hojo took her hand and led her through the crowd.

“Miss Kagome,” Myouga whispered.

“What is it?” she whispered back.

“Be very aware of your surroundings… We are not alone.”

“What do you—”

“Miss Kagome, meet Mr. Naraku Onigumo. Mr. Naraku, this is Miss Kagome Higurashi,” Hojo said as he stepped aside to allow them to shake hands.

“Hello Mr. Onigumo, a pleasure,” she extended her hand to which he took. A sudden shiver ran through her body and she felt nauseous, so much so, that she almost dropped his hand in what she could only describe as revulsion… fear… emotions she did not commonly have towards strangers. But above all, the thing that bothered her was the smile he gave her when she trembled. It was dark, sinister, and while it was quick enough to where Hojo hadn’t seen, it was foreboding enough to make her want to excuse herself. She swore she could see images, almost like they had met in a past life. Ancient… clothing like Inuyasha wore when he was released from the tomb. The sinister smile and an evil cackle rung in her head. Why was she seeing these things?

“Miss Kagome, I’ve heard many great things about you from Mr. Hojo. I am truly honored to finally meet you.”

She felt Myouga tugging at her hair that was pulled up and it gave her an odd sense of comfort, knowing he too, felt the ominous presence coming from the gentleman in front of her.

“That’s always nice to hear!” she laughed nervously. Her thoughts immediately went to Inuyasha—wondering where he was and if he would make it to her on time. But she couldn’t figure out why her brain thought she was on a timer or why she directly wanted and needed him. She really wished she had asked more about being a Guardian and how they were summoned…she swallowed. Could he possibly sense if she was in danger?

She swore his eyes flashed red as he took a step closer to her making her take an instinctive step back. Smiling uneasily, Kagome tried to remain calm. He chuckled and put his hand around her back ushering her to go with him, “Come, let us get a refreshment and talk over some ideas I have. Mr. Hojo, please accompany us.”

Swallowing hard and trying to steady her breathing, she reached up so as to scratch her head to the naked eye, but dislodged Myouga and tossed him towards the door. She hoped he knew exactly what she meant since she couldn’t voice to him to go find who she needed. But considering he didn’t cry out or leap back on her shoulder, she assumed he got the message.

Inuyasha followed the scent and ended up in the dark abandoned part of the museum. He looked around and was heavily confused on what was going on… It was like he was being lured there, like a distraction. But he needed to try and find the danger before it found Kagome. He had to protect her! His instincts were roaring to eliminate the threat then to find his Chosen. His mate.

He jumped quickly when he smelt the change in the air and was able to dodge a wind blade that crashed into the tile floor. Landing ten feet away from where the blade hit, he glanced at where it came from and saw a woman dressed in modern clothing holding a fan—dark red eyes, hair drawn up in a ponytail, khaki pants, suspenders, a pink and magenta swirled shirt, and whoever it was, she reeked of that scent he recognized.

“Who are you?!” he yelled angrily.

“We heard the mutt was awoken. I’m shocked you aren’t with your master though…”she teased tapping her fan on her shoulder appearing bored.

“What!?”

“My master is probably doing what he did five hundred years ago to your former master…” she taunted.

“Stop speaking in riddles!” he snarled leaping to snatch her, but she gracefully jumped away and landed where he originally was before she had struck him.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh Inuyasha, you are a fool.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me as I, technically, wasn’t born before your imprisonment. But you met my master, or at least, your ‘Chosen’ priestess did. She nursed him back to health. He fell in love with her kind heart, her position, her power. He began to lust after her and the better he got, the more he desired her. But she denied his proposal, claiming she preferred a life of solitude with her Guardian, just as a priestess should,” her voice sang.

Inuyasha was now growling but didn’t move. He needed to hear what this bitch would say next. She was speaking about Kikyo. Their past. What did she know?! Did she know why Kikyo thought he had betrayed her?!

“So, he sold his soul to the demons who wanted to destroy the palace. They ate him and he became my master, Naraku. He deceived your priestess and made her believe it was you, who betrayed everyone. He made it seem like it was you who killed the royal lineage; it is why she sealed you within that tomb. It was you who damned all of the youkai into total submission. It was made to be that youkai and humans could no longer coexist, making youkai go into hiding. You made them have to conquer the human lands, one by one.

“And your priestess finally learned the truth of the deceit after fifty years. She was mortified that it was actually not you and she tried to unseal you but the spell was too powerful for her weak old body. She died next to your tomb, cursing the man she had married because she thought her only redemption of claiming you as a Guardian was to pray her descendants could do better… but then she learned Naraku was the one who killed everyone. Hahahahahaha! They always say karma is a real bitch.”

Inuyasha felt like his entire world collapsed. Myouga and Totosai had filled him in as best as they could on the details after he was sealed but he had not expected that…

He knew the royals had all been killed; their entire existence was wiped out within a night. He had been sent out by the king for another assignment away from the kingdom to forge a treaty with another area ruled by a half-demon and his bride. Kikyo had to remain there, tending to the sick and while he was unhappy with his assignment, he could not disobey the king.

When he returned Kikyo was furious, screaming incoherently, pushing him away and refusing to be in his presence. She lured him down into the crypts of her home and then sealed him saying that he would regret the day he ever deceived her…

Myouga said after his sealing, the monarch dissolved. The humans rebelled and the Guardians who were still alive were forced to flee. His father had taken his mother overseas to be safe and start a new life. No one knew what became of his brother.

It had to be a lie. “You’re so full of shit! You’re just trying to distract me!”

“Well, obviously. But I can assure you, I was telling you the truth with my little ruse. How does it feel knowing that you failed your priestess, and you’re about to fail your real Chosen,” she laughed, disappearing in a gust of wind.

“Son of a—”

“Master Inuyasha!” Myouga cried.

“Myouga!! Why the fuck aren’t you with—”

“She sent me to get you! An old ancient demon named Naraku is the head financial coordinator and—”

“GodDAMNIT!” he growled taking off in the direction where Myouga came from. “You are gonna tell me everything I missed! I mean it! EVERYTHING! That fucking wind bitch said that the downfall of the royals was because of this Naraku, someone Kikyo cared for and he blamed it all on me!!”

“M-Master! We must save Miss Kagome!”

“You’ll fill me on the way or I’ll squash you and you won’t live to see how the next five hundred years turn out!”

“Very well master… what you heard was true. I—I tried to get here sooner but as a flea I can only move so fast. I heard what Kagura had told you. It is all unfortunately true. Naraku tricked the empire to believe you had killed the monarchy. It caused mass hysteria, chaos, and corruption. Naraku was able to take control of the rebellion, as a priest and promise that the Gods would bless his heirs that he would make with the high priestess. Kikyo married him and bore him sons and daughters. She learned the truth and was able to clear your name before her death, but had been unable to revive you. She had her daughter help her with a spell to help release you once your real Chosen, your mate appeared. The thing that could unlock your tomb would be her blood.”

“Why?!”

“So that you could be happy master! So that you knew it wasn’t a mistake that nothing ever happened between you and her! She knew how much you tried to care about her, but she knew that you were not destined to be together. While she loved you and you her, she knew she was not your mate. Grief overwhelmed her for all the pain that she caused because she had lured you into a life to live without your Chosen. The idea that she sealed you without even hearing your side of the story destroyed her. She knew then she had to correct her mistakes; she used her powers to see your real mate--and found her in the future. She saw the future you could have with her. That is why she changed the seal to open.

“You know that it is Miss Kagome who you are destined for! That she is your Chosen! Your mate!I think she even knows it to be true too, master! You just have to talk to her! She could sense the evil Naraku was emitting! It was like she remembered!”

“Why does that bastard want her?!” he snarled his eyes tinging red.

“Ma-Master…” Myouga saw his master losing control.

“Answer me Myouga!”

“Because he knows she’s a Chosen. Your demonic Chosen. He knows it was she who was able to release you from your slumber. He plans on taking her away like he had done with Kikyo…”

Inuyasha didn’t reply as he raced to where the fundraiser was being held—he had to get to Kagome. He had already failed Kikyo and he felt like a piece of him was torn out. But if he lost Kagome before he even got to tell her what an idiot he was—he’d die. He would take his own life if it came down to that. He. Would. Not. Fail.

Kagome felt like she was going to be sick as she was ushered out onto the balcony. Hojo had tried being helpful and offered to grab their drinks while they got to know each other before discussing the projects Naraku wanted to sponsor.

“So… tell me Miss Kagome. Any suitors I should be aware of?”

“Beg pardon?” she asked, trying to hide the revulsion in her voice.

“Hahaha, oh Miss Kagome. What are you thinking about?”

I’m thinking about a way to get your sleazy hands off me… “No one of concern,” she offered.

“Obviously someone who is distracting you. Tell me about him,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her coaxing her to dance lightly to the music that they could hear from the banquet hall.

Trying not to tremble, she swallowed, “He’s just a…friend. We haven’t known each other long.”

“Ah, but it sounds like you’ve grown very fond of him. You know how the saying goes, ‘love at first sight’. I knew from the moment I gazed upon my wife. She initially did not accept my courtship, but I was able to convince her.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed. Maybe she was just imagining things. He said he was married. But, she just couldn’t shake this feeling of utter disgust as he tried to pull her closer. It was too intimate. It was like…“What is your wife’s name?”

“Kikyo.”

That was all she needed to hear before she pulled away making him snicker. Her heart was beating frantically like it would burst out of her chest. She knew that name—Inuyasha’s former Chosen. How did this-this-this man know!

“So, he mentioned Kikyo, did he?”

“Who are you?! How do you know Inuyasha!?”

“You’re a feisty one,” he said as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The lights turned out and everything went silent. Kagome looked inside and saw everyone had passed out. What was going on!?!? She turned back as she heard him approach her again and took a step back again.

“What do you want!?”

“For Inuyasha to suffer,” he said, grasping her forearm harshly. She swore she felt her skin burn at his touch--she cringed and sucked her breath in to keep from crying out.

“Why?! What did he do to you?!” she demanded trying to pull away from him again.

“He stole the heart of the woman I loved.” She paused knowing he was likely talking about Kikyo. So she had been correct; Kikyo and Inuyasha were in love. It hurt… But she couldn’t explain why—it wasn’t like they were together or anything. Their time had even been five-hundred years ago. But still, she was, as crazy as it sounded, jealous.

“That doesn’t… Sometimes that can’t be helped… But-but even so! You just said you married her!”

“I did.”

“Then why—”

“As high priest, we had to restore the royal lineage that Inuyasha destroyed,” he said, smirking, his hand on her arm finally made her cry out. His touch was actually burning her—it wasn’t just that she was imagining things—he was actually harming her.

“Inu-Inuyasha didn’t do anything!”

“How would you know? You weren’t even there. He killed all the royals. You heard the tales from Totosai and Myouga, did you not? They, of course, wouldn’t betray their master by divulging such information to a weak human.”

“That’s a lie! Inuyasha would never—”

“Oh, but he did my dear.”

“Stop!”

“LET GO OF HER!” Kagome turned her head to see a very angry and ferocious Inuyasha striking down onto the man holding her arm captive.

Naraku let out a cackle as he dropped her arm and disappeared into a giant purple fog as Inuyasha picked her up and jumped back. She swore she was hallucinating. She had to be. Within the last month, things had gotten out of hand. Maybe she should have considered checking herself into an insane asylum or something.

“Are you alright?” His gruff voice questioned.

“Y-yes,” she said breathily.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the half-breed himself,” Naraku remarked as he appeared on the museum’s rooftop.

“You must be Naraku…” Inuyasha growled, tightening his hold over Kagome’s body. Kagome finally had a moment to take him all in. His eyes were red, bright blue irises in place of his beautiful gold, purple jagged marks on his cheeks, fangs that dipped out of his mouth—what happened to him? Why had he transformed again? She was in too much shock to say anything—too much to do anything but rest in his arms as she idly traced the arm Naraku had burned. She felt nothing. But she knew she would once the initial scare wore off—she did her best not to look down at it to delay the inevitable. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the half-demon holding her in his arms and clutched his shirt with her injured arm as best as she could.

“That I am; it’s a pleasure to finally meet the disgrace in person.”

“What the fuck does that mean!?”

“I already filled in young Miss Kagome on what occurred five-hundred years ago. How you killed all the royals and that waswhy the Lady Kikyo sealed you away for all eternity.”

“Shut up!”

“Now now Inuyasha, it’s ok to be a monster. Kikyo fell in love with you just as she did with me. Obviously, she had a taste for things that were vile. Tell me, did she ever allow you to hold her at night? Allow her into her sweet--” he was cut off when Inuyasha was suddenly in front of him, swiping down with his claws snarling menacingly at him. Naraku laughed maniacally as he egged the half-demon-turned-full into battle.

Kagome had almost been dropped on her ass. Not that she could blame the guy--the love of his life was more or less defiled by this disgusting thing of a man that was prancing around on the roof. It still didn’t help her heavy heart. She heard footsteps come from the ballroom and she glanced to see two figures--a child with white hair, wearing a white dress, eyes as blank as unending darkness, carrying a mirror, and a woman who wore slacks and brightly colored shirt holding a fan. Kagome almost wished her life would go back to being the way it was before she met Inuyasha. Almost. The excitement would maybe kill her, but she honestly felt more alive than she had ever thought possible.

She stood and felt her hair fall from her tightly woven crown in the process, now trailing down her back, swaying in the wind. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Run Miss Kagome!”

“Myouga?!” she looked down at her shoulder to see the flea that just appeared.

“That is Mistress Kagura, a wind sorceress and the child is Kanna of the void. She steals souls!”

“Souls? You must be joking!” Kagome tried to reason with the flea.

“I wish I were, you must try to escape until my master fends off Naraku!”

“I don’t need Inuyasha’s help,” she replied stubbornly.

“Miss Kagome! Now is no time to be stubborn!”

“He’s busy avenging Kikyo; I’m going to have to handle this on my own.” She looked around trying to find some form of weapon but had no luck. Maybe she could try to lure them into the museum so she could use one inside. Oh she was so going to be fired…

“You have a fire in you; a fire just like Kikyo’s,” Kagura spoke as she tapped her fan on her shoulder. “I will enjoy putting it out.”

“What do you even want with me?!” Kagome demanded.

“I’d thought that would be obvious at this point,” she said flicking her fan open and swinging it so the wind blades would strike.

“AIIII!” Kagome screamed dodging as best as she could. She jumped and swung herself away landing roughly on her stomach. Looking back at them, she quickly got to her feet with Myouga’s persistence to run. She took off and heard another swish of the woman’s fan as the crazy woman laughed at her struggles. Kagome jumped and landed on her back and thankfully the blades cut through the windows.

Covering her head as the glass fell and rolling onto her stomach to cover herself more, she felt some of the chunks fall onto her back. She tried to remain calm. As calm as one could be with someone attacking them, that is. But she knew she had to keep her head level and focus on her objective; currently it was to stay alive. Fight.

She stood once the glass stopped shattering on the ground around her and took off running into the building. Gasping, she tried not to stop as she saw all the people who were attending the event lying on the ground motionless.

“Wh-what--Myouga! What’s wrong with them??”

“I told you Miss Kagome! Their souls have been taken!”

“Ugh! I don’t--Gahh!!!” she screamed as something grabbed her ankle swinging her down onto the ground breathlessly. She looked and saw Hojo above her with a blank look on his face.

“Hojo?! What are you doing!? Let me go!”

“And where would the fun be if we let you run?” Kagura laughed as she entered the ballroom.

Kagome struggled to push Hojo off of her so she could get to the next room. One room away. One room and she could get something to fight these demons. Muttering an apology, she kicked him as hard as she could in the gut causing him to roll off her. She stumbled getting up and again when she felt his hand grab her dress.

“Dammit! Get off!!” she yelled, kicking his wrist in a nerve to make him release his hold. She heard her dress rip slightly as she scurried off quickly.

She barely made it through the towering archway as more wind blades struck.

“Miss Kagome! Quickly! The bow!”

“What??” she asked, covering her head as bricks and stone crashed down around her from the overhead. She screamed and tried to keep running even though she felt some of the stones falling upon her. Realizing she didn’t have time to argue or question Myouga, she rushed and felt the pull of the bow behind the glass frame on the far wall. She ripped the bottom part of her dress off and wrapped it around her arm. Punching as hard as she could, she shattered the glass that encased the ancient bow. Throwing down the torn rags, she uncovered her arm and grabbed the bow.

It pulsed in her hand. Pulsed. She swore to the Gods it did. It was… speaking to her. She had to have been going crazy at that point. Probably blood loss. Pain. Who knew. But either way, she felt the overwhelming urge to turn around at that moment. She swung holding the bow in front of her and squealed when she saw the wind blades heading straight for her. Unable to do anything, she held the bow tightly in front of her hoping and praying it would take the blunt of the blows as she squeezed her eyes shut. When she felt nothing, she peeked through one of her eyes and saw she was being covered in a weird purple-pink shield.

Gasping she saw the demon with the fan narrow her eyes in anger. “Kanna,” she said with purpose.

The little demon with white hair raised her mirror and Kagome felt a shift in the world as she fell to the ground feeling suddenly cold.

Inuyasha was in a fit of rage and felt like he couldn’t pull himself out. His body was no longer his own. All he could see was red. All he felt was underlying unadulterated blood lust. All he could do was attack. And there was nothing and no one that could stop his animosity as he attacked Naraku--sending blow after blow from his claws towards the fucking disgusting rancid demon taunting his every move...

Suddenly, the thought occurred to him--why was he allowing him to attack so freely? He began to hear her--Kagome’s cries and he smelled her blood. His body froze. He felt like a building fell on him. His demonic aura almost dissipated at the thought of her being hurt because he had…

Fuck. He dropped her. Dropped her on her ass to attack the asshole who lured him away from her. He was so pissed off she had burns on her from the devil, that she had been screaming, that she had been left unguarded---he let him goad him into leaving her taunting him about how he defiled Kikyo! Fuck!! That wind bitch!!

“Ahhhh, just realizing that your replacement for our beloved Kikyo is in trouble? I will not permit you to leave. You will suffer the way I suffered when Kikyo cared for you. You will lose your humanity and become a mindless creature bent on destroying the world until you are begging for sweet death.”

“You and I are nothing alike! We are NOT the same!” Inuyasha yelled, his demonic features retreating as he was able to restore some of his head. His inner demon must’ve backed off knowing the blood lust was what got them in this position to begin with. Dammit all! Kagome!!!

“I think that we are more than you’d care to admit,” Naraku taunted as he finally released his attack; his body transformed into the ugliest fucking shape Inuyasha had ever seen. Wooden tentacles shot out and started to surround him. Inuyasha thought it was child’s play though. This was beginner level stuff from when he had begun his training to become a Guardian. Why was Naraku, a demon who had lived for countless centuries, so weak?? So unskilled?

After dodging Naraku’s advances and swiping a few more attacks of his own, he noticed the tentacles were being reabsorbed back into the ugly fuck’s body. He growled and snarled angrily realizing he was playing with a goddamned puppet!!!

“Son of a--can’t you fight your own battles?!?! You have to use fucking tricks and others to fight for you?!? How cowardly are you!?!?”

“Goad me all you like, Inuyasha,” Naraku laughed maniacally. “Your time is almost up.”

“What does that mean?!?!” Inuyasha demanded.

Before Naraku answered, he felt a supreme amount of reiki soar towards him. He jumped out of the way in time for it to strike down Naraku as the sick bastard continued to laugh. All that was left of him was a wooden doll with a black hair wrapped around it. Inuyasha recognized that power. He stood tall and turned slowly to face the person he was fearful to see.

He saw the haunting silhouette of the woman who trapped him in his tomb--the woman who sealed him away. But after the smoke from the ferocity of the arrow cleared, he saw Kagome holding the bow. Her dress was torn up, she had scratches and bruises all over her body, the burn still present on her forearm, her hair was free of the updo she had worked in earlier that evening… She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was too entranced with her to realize there was something wrong.

“Ka-Kagome--” he took a step towards her about to say more when she pulled back on the string on the bow creating another reiki fueled weapon in the shape of an arrow. “Kagome?!!”

“You… betrayed me…” her voice was weird. Devoid of emotion even the words she used stung. They were the same ones Kikyo used on him five-hundred years ago before she sealed him away.

“Kagome! I’m sorry! I lost control! I was coming for you!” He was shocked when she released the arrow again that propelled straight towards him. He managed to clear it but only to have several more projectiles flying towards him. What the fuck was wrong with her?! Why was she so mad?! He trusted her--

That’s when it dawned on him--it wasn’t her. Kagome would never… She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Kagome wasn’t Kikyo. He leapt towards and noticed her blank eyes as she swung the bow to hit him again. Before she could pull back the string and renotch another spiritual arrow, Inuyasha grabbed her bow to pull it out of her grasp. He had not expected the hand that was off the bow to swing and blast him with reiki. Screaming from the agonizing burn he jumped back away from her.

“Damnit!”

“Something wrong, Inuyasha?” Kagura laughed.

“Grrrrr… you again. What did you do to Kagome?!!”

“Nothing. Just told her the truth.”

“What ‘truth’?!”

“That you are in love with Kikyo--even though she isn’t really your mate. Kagome was a little upset to say the least. Kanna was able to open her mind and help her learn the spiritual techniques of her ancestors.”

Kagome restrung the bow and took aim at him again. He whimpered, unsure what to do, on how to save her. Fuck. He was about to fail again!

“Master Inuyasha!”

“Myouga!” Inuyasha huffed as he jumped away from Kagome’s new onslaught of attacks quickly grabbing Myouga up and tossing him on his shoulder.

“They took her soul and are controlling her, Master!”

“How the fuck do I get it back?!”

“I--well--uhm--” Myouga stammered.

“Dammit Myouga! Get lost!” Inuyasha yelled as he threw the flea from his shoulder sensing the oncoming arrow he wasn’t going to be able to dodge without being in the direct path of another. He cried out in pain when the arrow struck his chest. But then suddenly vanished just as quickly as it struck him.

Panting, he was able to sit upright uneasily but looked up to see Kagome’s form shaking. Her hand that wasn't clutching the bow trembled the most, her chest heaving. She was fighting.

“KAGOME!”

“Ya-” she breathed. If it wasn’t for his demonic hearing he probably would have heard her strained voice.

“Kanna--what’s wrong?!” Kanna stepped forward and looked down at her mirror. Inuyasha could see clouds of white escaping while the mirror shook and he heard slight cracking sounds. He took the cue and leapt forward grasping his shoulder to hopefully keep it from absorbing all the shock from when he landed.

“Kagome! Fight it! I know you can!” he pleaded as he placed his hands on her upper arms. He wanted to embrace her, hold her, promise her everything would be ok--that he would save her, that he would protect her always--confess his love for the strange girl of the future era and admit he had grown overly fond of her. That he loved her, not Kikyo. That what he felt for her didn’t even compare what he felt for his old Chosen--who was just a Chosen… not his mate.

Those feelings weren’t just formed because he could sense his demonic half claiming her as his mate. Yea, her scent drove him wild. Yes, she was fucking gorgeous. Strong, fierce, mouthy, but she was kind. Accepting. She gave him a home when she didn’t have to. She fed him, cared for him, helped him learn about the things that changed over the centuries. Her desire to help him belong, help him be able to be on his own if he wanted. The idea she offered to help him find a place when he was comfortable, or even offered to get him one and she would just check up on him, help him from a distance if he'd be more comfortable that way… she was just so amazing. How could he not--how could anyone not fall in love with a being like her?

She was so interested in his past. Kagome actually wanted to listen to him talk. It wasn’t just her filling the void. She treated him as an equal--not just as a Guardian.

He couldn’t lose her! He refused to lose her! While he could fight a battle physically, he couldn’t fight it spiritually. This fight was hers--one of which she seemed like she was holding her own at. He had to encourage her--even if that meant he had to cross a line. He pulled her into his arms and pressed her face into his chest.

In a drunken haze one night, she had admitted she liked how he smelled--like a forest. Pine trees. Musky. Something so… “Inuyasha” as she put it. He knew his own scent. He was surprised she was able to discern it so quickly.

She had cuddled up to him and played with his ears. It was so awkward because he was still in denial over her being his Chosen but he couldn’t resist her charms. He loved being in her company. Being in her attention. His body being touched by her.

“Please Kagome, I know you can do this--I believe in you,” he buried his nose into her hair trying to calm his raging anxiety. He couldn’t lose her--he just found her. The woman that had begun to heal his heart--he fought it for so long… But in that moment when he actually thought he would lose her--he couldn’t. He’d die if he lost her. Kikyo already passed on--his only real friend. His first friend. Kikyo's death hurt him, but he could move on. The love they had was more platonic--his love for the young woman locked in his arms was indescribable.

He felt her grasp his shirt and he felt her falling; his arms kept a tight hold on her small body to keep her upright, “Inu--” she said strained.

“That’s it--I’m right here! Fight!”

“Kanna! Do something!” Kagura hissed.

“The mirror…” Kanna whispered.

“Fine! Dance of Blades!” Kagura yelled, swinging her fan at Kagome and him. He leapt out of the way, protecting her head by pressing his hand to the back of it as he kept a firm hand around her waist. He continued to dodge until the blades stopped when he and Kagura heard a large crack in the mirror.

Inuyasha landed just as the white clouds burst from the mirror and soared through the sky. One shot towards him and Kagome making him almost dodge before Myouga yelled, “No! You must allow Miss Kagome to reabsorb the soul! She has summoned it!”

“She what?!” Inuyasha exclaimed as he felt her soul slam back into her body. He held on as he felt the pressure surround them. Once it seemed like her body fully absorbed, he felt her pulsate--like her soul was seeking something out now that it had returned to where it belonged.

“Inu…yasha…” she said slowly.

Inuyasha sighed in relief but kept his hold on her, and tightened it slightly, “Kagome.”

Kagura scoffed, “How romantic--” She was cut off when another arrow went skyrocketing towards her and Kanna. Kagura quickly summoned a feather from her hair and they were lifted up into the sky making their get-away.

“Damnit! Get back here!” Inuyasha yelled.

“They are of no consequence--they are but tools of Naraku,” Kagome said coldly. It made him stiffen. The way she said it. The way she… He turned back to face the young woman and was met with deep blue eyes. Deeper than usual. Calculating.

“Ki-Kikyo…?” he said in shock.

“Hello, Inuyasha. It’s good to see you again.”

Kagome felt cold. Stiff. Empty. Something was wrong. She had managed to get the bow hadn’t she? She had...deflected their attacks. Or at least she thought she did. She opened her eyes and was met with a beautiful woman--long flowing straight black hair, deep navy blue eyes unlike her teal ocean blues, they looked oddly similar, but somehow also so different.

Gasping from fright, she looked around and was surrounded in darkness. Fuck! She had gone crazy! She finally cracked. Yep. That was the only rational solution.

“You have not gone crazy, Kagome,” the woman in front of her said.

“What?! How did--”

“We are inside your mind. Locked. The demons you were fighting took your soul.”

“Who…? Oh! Those demons! But--”

“I know this is all new to you… but you remember. Some of your previous life--” the woman placed a hand on her cheek closing her eyes and sent images into Kagome’s mind. Images of a past life--

“Are you--Are you Kikyo??” The woman smiled in response.

“I am. Your ancestor. And your previous life.”

“You are Inuyasha’s Chosen,” Kagome gaped at her former self. She was so beautiful. Refined. Proper. Kagome felt somewhat disheartened. No wonder Inuyasha couldn’t stand her. She would never match up to her. Kikyo smiled softly in return, a comforting smile as if she knew what she was thinking.

“Not in the way you are referring, young one.”

“What--”

“I am not, and was not Inuyasha’s mate. I was merely a priestess with a Guardian. A Chosen who needed a Guardian in the palace.”

“But he said--”

“He did care about me. And I, for him. But, not in the sense you think. We resigned ourselves to a life of companionship. I felt romantic feelings for him, but I knew it was not the same for him. I was not his Chosen--his Chosen mate. It would never have worked for us in the way you are thinking of. I was too tied to my duty to the kingdom. He was tied to restoring his family's honor and the love he felt for me was friendly. Not at all romantic. But it was okay for both of us just to resign to live side by side.”

“Just the way he talks about you…”

“Do you not have a friend you speak highly of? A friend you miss? A friend who you grew up with and you had to go your separate ways?”

Kagome thought of her best friend Sango and how they grew up together, lived together throughout college... then she met Miroku. He was a great guy, with great ambitions, and he really worked hard to gain Sango’s attention. He really made Sango his world and proved to her time and time again how it would always be her. And well, the rest was history. They moved for his work to the States and Sango happily followed. They kept in contact and Kagome visited as much as she could.

“Yes…” Kagome said sadly.

“I know you have had a lot to learn recently. That this life can seem overwhelming, but I can assure you that it is a part of your destiny. That this is the way your life was meant to be.”

“But why--”

“Because you are Inuyasha’s mate.”

“I’m--what??!”

“You know this is true.”

“I-I--” she trailed off and pondered what Kikyo was telling her.

“Think Kagome; you know this to be true. There is a force that is driving you to him. Even now--” They were interrupted when they heard a muffled yell. “He needs you.”

“N-no. I-I’ll--You need to help him! I-I can’t. I don’t know how--please--”

“Call out to him.”

“What??”

“Call out to him, Kagome. He’ll hear you and help you push through this darkness.”

Kagome focused on the outside of this void. She tried to project herself--the only thing that felt right, the way to get herself out of there. Her body felt like an unmovable wall. Something was moving her like she was a puppet. Only rather than being attached to strings, she was being moved by a remote control.

She felt a large amount of power leave her as she heard Inuyasha yell at Myouga before he cried out in pain. Doing the only thing she could think to do was try to draw back what left her when she came back into her body. She tried to speak and it felt like she’d ran fifty miles. Gasping and panting, she tried to push through only to feel a heavy lump in her throat as she tried to voice his name as he called for her--”Ya…”

That was all she could get out before she was snapped back into the darkness with Kikyo. She cried. She was pitiful. Inuyasha deserved better. She was useless--hopeless. She knew nothing.

“Please… Kikyo please help him.”

“Kagome--”

“Please!!! You have to help him! Save him!!!”

“What if we cannot switch back?”

“I’m willing to die for him, Kikyo! Please!! I’m untrained and-and-and I can’t let them use me to destroy him!! Please!!! I know he’ll be happy! I know he loves you even though you don’t think so! I won’t make him choose! Please!!!!”

“As you wish, Kagome,” Kikyo sighed defeatedly as she disappeared from Kagome’s view. Kagome could still the tingling of power as Kikyo fought off the demons. She heard Inuyasha talking to her--soothing her. He really was kind. She was sad she gave Kikyo another chance, but she also realized their time had been short because that Naraku creep deceived them. It was only right. Kikyo was wrong. Kagome wasn’t Inuyasha’s mate. Kikyo was… and that was okay. When you loved someone, you let them go to be happy. That was the only way Kagome ever loved Inuyasha--unconditionally.

She heard Inuyasha say Kikyo’s name and she had to remind herself this was her choice. Still, it didn’t lessen the quake in her heart.

“Kikyo… where’s Kagome?”

“She--she wanted me to help you. She does not know how to use our power. Her desire to save you sent me into her body.”

“Is she your reincarnation?”

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I was not your mate, but Kagome, my ancestor, my reincarnation, is…”

“You know?”

“You are free, are you not?”

“So what Myouga said was true…”

“Indeed.”

“It--it’s safe now. Are you going to let Kagome come back?”

Kikyo shifted uncomfortably, lowering her eyes, “I believe I know the answer to this--as she is your mate. But, we have so much history. So much to discuss… Is that girl more important to you than I am?”

“I’m sorry, Kikyo. She is. While I get we didn’t get closure or whatever, I need her back.”

Kikyo looked up and smiled softly, “She’s already changed you.”

“What??”

“You have a more kind look in your eyes. Softer. You held me, or rather her, without reservation. Trust was never our strong suit even though you were my Guardian. Yet, you allowed yourself to get close to this girl within weeks, have you not? Even when she was attacking you, you automatically knew it was not her. In the past, you were more reversed and never voiced your opinion unless asked, but here you demand to see the young woman again. Even when you know that would mean my ultimate end.”

“...I--” He honestly didn’t know how to answer. Thinking back, he had been trying to push Kagome away. Keep himself from getting close to her. But obviously Kikyo, in some dormant part of Kagome’s soul, could see he failed. That he changed in spite of his stubbornness. “I’ve grown to care about her. A lot. I don’t think she feels the same, but it doesn’t stop my desire to be with her.”

“Why’s that?”

“You just said it--it’s been a couple of weeks. Things are different in this age of time, Kikyo.”

“Love never changes, even in time Inuyasha. And that girl--she does care for you deeply; she cares enough to risk imprisonment within her own soul.”

“She what?” He was shell shocked. His ears twitched. Did he hear her correctly??

“She sacrificed herself… She wanted me to help you. She didn’t believe she was your mate.”

“I--Kikyo I can’t lose her! I just found her!”

“Call to her--she can hear you. We both could as her body was being dragged around by the demons. It was what made her gain control to stop the arrow from purifying you.”

“Kagome!” he called as he clasped onto her arms. It was eerie having Kikyo’s stoic stare gazing back at him through Kagome’s eyes. That was one thing he cherished about Kagome; she never hid her emotions and was always upfront about when he pissed her off. What made her excited. What made her sad… He never wanted that fire within her to ever be extinguished. “Kagome! Come back!! It’s safe now!!”

Kikyo continued to look at him and slightly looked saddened--like she couldn’t hear Kagome’s response.

“Don’t you fucking say anything--” he warned Kikyo.

“Inuyasha! Language!”

“Kagome,” he pressed on, uncaring of Kikyo’s reprimand. “You can’t honestly believe I don’t need you! I was never myself with Kikyo! I couldn’t be! I was just her Guardian--not her mate! I’m sorry I was such a dick! But it’s you I need! Kagome!!!”

“Keep trying Inuyasha. Don’t give up,” Kikyo offered him. She obviously could see he was clearly distressed.

“Kagome--come on! I--I know I was a jerk. I’ll be honest! I’ll talk. I’ll tell you anything!! Please--I need you Kagome! I--this sounds crazy but, fuck Kagome, I love you! I love how wild your hair is in the morning, I love how you speak your mind, I love how caring, accepting, and open you are! The way you breathe in your coffee and sigh, the way plop down on the couch next to me after a long day, even the way you sing songs non stop while you clean your house, are things I can’t get enough of. Your love and care is unconditional! Kagome--” he was out of options. Kikyo didn’t budge. The face of pity was what finally sent his demon into a frenzy. It was going mad at the idea he would never see Kagome again. It was angry he had been a shit mate and pushed her away--that he was the reason she left.

“Kagome! Fuck! Kikyo! What the fuck do I do?”

“She can hear you, Inuyasha. I do not know why she is not emerging. She may not be able to… I warned her of this.”

“There has to be a fucking way!”

“Master Inuyasha!!” Myouga called from the ground below them.

“Myouga,” Inuyasha said, still highly anxious.

“Master! The Lady Kikyo is correct! You must call to Miss Kagome!”

“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing?!?!”

“Master--you are so dense! Tell us! When you lost control of your demon the night of your awakening, how did Miss Kagome get you back to your senses?”

Blushing at the thought Inuyasha stuttered, “F-fuck! I don’t wanna force myself on her!!” He thought back to that day that felt so long ago--the day she awakened him…

He was so disoriented when he had awoken. She looked so similar to Kikyo--it made sense now. Kagome was her descendant and her reincarnation. They always said fate had her own plans. Fate was the creator of irony. After Kagome explained repeatedly she was not his Chosen, that he was not her Guardian, and that she was ‘Ka-Go-Me’, Totosai finally revealed himself. The jackass. Still had been up to no good and plaguing his family with his overbearing intrusive presence.

Totosai left Myouga with him to explain things that happened over the centuries as he then explained to Kagome who Inuyasha was and who they actually were. Totosai left and Kagome apologized, after hearing Myouga explain things to him--about his sealing, about the change in time, about the death of Kikyo. She offered to help him--not leave him alone. He deserved a second chance and she would happily be his friend outside of her research project. She even humored herself saying they could learn from each other and once he was on his own feet, he could live alone. He was not amused; he was edgy and mad and frustrated and devastated, and--and--horribly confused.

Kagome--her scent called to him in ways he never knew was possible. Her body, her figure--it made his mouth water. Her eyes that sparkled like the ocean peered into his soul. Her voice sang a unique song that seemed to calm his heart, his demonic instincts--but his human ego was utterly pissed off. He couldn’t help but be a straight asshole to her. How could this mortal be trusted? His own Chosen locked his ass up in a tomb for five-hundred fucking years! Someone he had trusted with his life, cared for deeply even though they weren’t…

OH. FUCK. The realization of everything came crashing down like a waterfall; Kagome was his mate. Those thoughts circled his head as he realized with his awakening, his aura had shot out powerfully. Not completely his fault--it was the part of the spell. He noticed his senses picking up movement, scents, and worse, youki. He pushed his thoughts about her being his mate behind him and pressed forward to the matter at hand.

He ushered her to follow but she was hell bent on leaving. She admitted the day was odd enough and she hadn’t planned on trying to get more attention. The problem was by the time they made it upstairs, they were surrounded. Things were awakening and those things wanted to eat. Souls. Flesh. Whatever they could get their grubby little hands on.

Inuyasha was still feeling the effects of his sealing. It took far longer to beat off the low grade demons and it awakened his demonic state when he heard the dumbass girl cry out when he didn’t make it to her in time.

The next thing he knew outside of the lust for blood underneath his claws, the drive for sheer power, and the desire to find his mate and rut her into submission was Kagome. She had her body pressed intimately against him and she was kissing him--hard--embracing him fully. Her hands had cupped his cheek, breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs flushly between his own as her lips covered his own. He wasn’t really sure what the fuck happened. Once she broke loose she looked around and sighed in relief. She apologized profusely explaining someone must’ve heard them fighting with the rogue demons and came looking. A security guard or something. Since Totosai had said demons were hidden in this world from humans, she had to think fast of a way to hide and make his snarls and growls stop.

What had floored him was she apologized to him for forcing herself on him. A demon. A half-demon. She apologized to him for making him uncomfortable. Not the other way around. The fact she even got so close--his demon purred in contentment until it wanted more. It made Inuyasha withdraw from her. He was scared of the feelings he was being plagued with. Obviously she took it as disgust. Or that he loved Kikyo. Shit. He was already the worst mate. But his anxieties had been justified at the time. Now--now they are what drove his mate within herself. Fuck.

Kikyo continued to stare at him, whether or not she knew what transpired between him and Kagome those weeks ago, she offered no words of comfort or disappointment.

"Master! The Lady Kikyo will not see it as such! That is not her body!"

"It may not be her body flea but it's her consciousness! I--uh--"

Kikyo giggled, flustering Inuyasha more, "Oh Inuyasha, I understand there is no meaning for this kiss towards me; I know it for Kagome.”

“God! You guys are just assholes!” he added as he blushed. “Is.. I know you said Kagome can hear us… is she saying anything?”

Kikyo shook her head, “She has remained silent. I sense her emotions. But she has not spoken to what she is hearing. I’m not sure if she is being receptive or not. It’s possible she thought you would be happy to see me again and shut down.”

“I don’t know why she’d think something so fucking stupid! So you’re telling me she can’t hear anything?!”

“I am not sure Inuyasha. I know we could hear you from inside the void when our soul was taken by the one known as Kanna. There is no reason to raise your voice to me in such a way.”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes and exhaled in agitation, “Listen Kikyo, I am not the same guy as I was five-hundred years ago. You said that yourself. Kagome has accepted me for who I am. I’m not gonna just revert back to being your guard dog--I’m Kagome’s Guardian now. Do you hear that Kagome?!” He grasped her arms harshly. Pleading that she felt it deep down inside herself. “I’m more me with you than with Kikyo! You better get the fuck back here because I’m not gonna hide who I am! I’m happy with you Kagome! You are the one I’m meant to be with. God I hope you’re fucking listening because I’m not gonna to repeat this! Damnit! Woman! Grrrrr,” he growled, finally pushed to the limit and dropped his lips to hers in bruising force. This had better work…

Kagome tried her best to keep things muffled--she didn’t want to hear Kikyo and Inuyasha’s reunion. The sweet nothings he’d whisper to her ancestor, the confessions of love, and the intimate position they probably were embracing in… God. If she could sink further into herself, she would. She would happily accept death if it would make Inuyasha happy.

Was she pathetic for thinking that? For giving up? Was it technically giving up? She said she would help him learn to be able to survive on his own. Her staying here would void that promise. But she would be giving him Kikyo--someone she knew he cared deeply about. That was a better gift right?

Kagome heard him yelling something about being stupid--her hands were still clamped over her ears but his shouts was loud enough to make it through her barriers she placed over her heart. Did he think she was being stupid? Foolish? Whatever. He didn’t have to tolerate her anymore anyway. Her despair fell off of her in waves.

Why did Kikyo tell her to think about her feelings towards him anyway? She knew she was his mate? She knew she liked the guy… okay, obviously she was in love with him. Sacrificing herself proved that little tidbit. But--what were mates?

Myouga hadn’t elaborated very much. Just said that there were two different types of Chosens.

Kikyo said she was different from the type of Chosen. Whatever that meant.

Were mates--well duh, they had to be a demon related thing--a ‘mating’ thing? That’s how zoologists described animals reproducing. Why would Kikyo say they were mates?

Was she saying they needed to ‘bang’ it out? Not that Kagome was opposed--but God forbid if that ever got out that she had sex out of wedlock. Then again, maybe it was normal for Inuyasha’s time? She couldn’t imagine he was in uhm… ‘mint’ condition. But then again, anytime Kikyo came up, he got a sour look on his face and she had dropped the subject. But Inuyasha was too good looking to be turned down. Sighing, Kagome declared she would do more research about five-hundred years ago and demonic breeding… if she ever got out of the darkness.

She heard more yelling and she was starting to get even more upset. This jackass couldn’t appreciate anything she did for him! Typical! What an asshole! What was his problem?! He had Kikyo! He had Totosai and Myouga to help him adjust to the time. One little promise of sticking by him shouldn’t mean so much to the guy. God. Jerk.

Her heart began to flutter rapidly when she swore she heard him say something about being his mate. But everything was muffled and distorted. No way she heard him correctly. That was when she felt an odd sensation on her lips. Clearly she was going mad… he wasn’t kissing her. He was likely kissing Kikyo…

But her soul kept fading in and out--or in and out of her consciousness. Whatever the darkness she was in. It was hard to describe or know what was going on. She finally saw him. Fuck a duck. He was kissing her. Her. Well--scratch that--he was kissing Kikyo but it summoned her back. Unknowingly and unwittingly. Damnit!

Gasping she gained his attention and his eyes opened. His bright amber eyes bore into hers. She knew she was blushing madly as he pulled back and said her name breathily.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to come back!”

“Wh--What?!!?” his gentle caring eyes turned angry. “Why are you saying it like that?!!?”

“You--you were kissing Kikyo and I--I--I don’t know but I came back out of the darkness!”

“Duh! That was the fuckin’ point, idiot!”

“UGHHHHHH! You’re so frustrating!!! Can’t you appreciate anything I try to do for you?!?!”

“Who said I wanted Kikyo back?!!?”

“You!!”

“When!?!” he said, gripping her arms tightly.

“Uhmmm…” Well come to think of it, he never voiced such a desire… “Okay, maybe not out loud, but you did with your actions and insinuations!”

“And you know what? That is my fault. You’re right. I’m a shit mate for making you feel unwanted but I had a lot to process in the past couple of weeks! Give me a fuckin’ break!”

“Well of course it is and--wait--what?!?!”

“You heard me, wench.”

“N-no… wait--uhm--” she stammered as she looked away blushing.

“Uh uh,” he said, grabbing her chin with his fingers pulling her back to face his intense eyes. “I admit I fucked up; I almost lost you, Kagome. But tell me why in the seven hells you thought it would be a good idea for you to sacrifice yourself to allow Kikyo to come back.”

“You’re in love with her--and I--” she swallowed thickly the ‘L’ word that threatened to escape her lips and pressed on, “care about you. I wanted you to be happy--even if it wasn’t with me.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I think I have ever heard. That includes the time you told me you rode in a metal cart machine to work and that if it crashed it would kill you.”

“Inuyasha--”she warned.

“Kagome--I tried to tell you that Kikyo and I were not in love. I was just her Guardian. That’s it. We obviously didn’t trust each other. That’s not something that can’t exist between mates. Tell me--do you trust me?”

“What does that have to do with anything?? Of course I do!”

“Why?”

“I--uh--” she trailed off really unsure how to answer the question. Why did she trust him so undyingly? When she awoke him in the museum, she held no fear of him. She even bossed him around and asked him fifty billion questions. Just like he was an old friend of hers she hadn’t seen in forever, not a five-hundred year old demon who could have easily killed her.

“Exactly. You just do. You know I would never harm you,” he breathed, his face oddly close to hers as his hands somehow found their way into her hair. His fingers brushed through it lovingly, making her sigh shakily.

“I-it could just because I’m a descendant of Kikyo’s.”

“Your theory doesn’t hold up Ka-Go-Me. Kikyo didn’t trust me.”

“But--she learned the truth didn’t she??”

“Doesn’t mean she trusted me. She just knew I didn’t commit treason,” he found a particular stand he had fingered through fascinating to her relief as he looked away from her. His body in such close proximity made hers hot even though her dress had seen such better days. She needed a moment where his eyes weren’t glued to her.

Closing her eyes, exhaling again before speaking, she whispered, “I’m sorry. Were you two able to…?”

“No. But I made my peace with it. She knew the truth; I didn’t need an apology or an explanation. Not really. I just needed you back,” he admitted.

Her eyes shot open and relocked with his, “What?”

“You need to start listening; it’s probably why you end up in so many fights,” he smirked.

“Listen to what!? You’re making no sense!”

“You are my mate, Kagome. My Chosen. Not someone I have to protect--but someone I want to--someone I need to. Not for the sake of honor, but for the sake of living. If you ever died--I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I wouldn’t be able to survive. The fact you were almost sealed away inside yourself… it was enough to make my demon stir and almost emerge and go into another killing frenzy.”

“Like earlier? When Naraku said that awful stuff about Kikyo?”

“I was already transformed because your life was in danger. Being that enraged and pissed off about your safety, seeing he had burned your arm, I was easily baited into fighting with him. He had wanted to drive us apart. The fucker nearly succeeded too; I left you unprotected and vulnerable while I tried to exact revenge for Kikyo and myself. I screwed up. Big time. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive though, Inuyasha. I understand,” she said as she stroked his cheek.

“See? I don’t know how else I can prove to you that you’re my mate. You know it deep down.”

“I… I guess I just don’t totally understand,” she said softly.

“Mates--it’s hard to explain because I've never had one. Myouga knows more than I do--speaking of the useless asshole--where are you?!” he called.

“Right here, Master! Didn’t want to interrupt such a tender moment.”

Welp, that was embarrassing--she turned six shades of red but Inuyasha secured his arms to wrap around her as he held her close. She took the opportunity to bury her head into his shirt and prayed maybe the ground would swallow her up.

“Myouga,” he warned.

“Sorry Master!”

“Can you beat it? We can talk later.”

“Did you want to know the full details of mating though?”

“I think I can handle the easy details asshole, can you just get the fuck outta here??! Go make yourself useful and make sure the other people in the building got their souls back or whatever,” he yelled, swatting Myouga from his shoulder followed by a terrorized scream.

“Sigh, you didn’t have to be so mean,” she chastised.

“Yea, yea, you didn’t have to live with him five-hundred years ago.”

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat, hoping maybe he’d release her. Okay that was a lie--she never had felt so at home or safe being next to him. Or rather, in his arms. But she wasn’t very comfortable with intimacy. It was highly taboo. The idea just made her face light up further.

“Yea… mates are--to demons, they are uhm… Fuck, I hate having to explain shit. But you need to know. It’s like a husband and wife thing with humans. But it’s permanent. There’s no going back once a demon has mated. Their souls entangle and their lives get--shared I guess? I’m not clear with all the details and specifics, just the general idea of everything. I just know that it’s a rather large commitment.”

“Okay,” she replied softly.

“What?”

“I said okay; as in, okay, I’ll be your mate.”

“Kagome--you can’t just agree to it not knowing--”

“You’re right though. I--I think I’ve always known. Just how easily I came to trust you, offer you my home without thinking about how uhm--improper it would be, how I turned down Hojo--”

“YOU DID WHAT!?!? THAT LITTLE FUCKER--”

“--just everything makes sense as to why I’ve lived my life the way I have by now. How I ended up with a demon professor and boss--it’s just… it makes me happy. Knowing I actually do belong.”

“You’re--you’re crazy you know that, right?”

“Yea, I get that a lot,” she smiled brightly up at him.

He leaned his head down to rest his forehead against hers, “I’m not gonna mark you--to be my mate yet. I want you to be sure--to know all the details, okay?”

“Sure...whatever you want to make you feel better.”

“Stupid, it’s to make sure you do.”

“Whatever, don’t kid yourself, we both know you’re nervous about this,” she teased.

“Well yea! I’m not gonna listen to you bitch the rest of our lives about how I fucked over yours.”

“Inuyasha,” she warned.

“Keh, don’t worry about it--I’ll listen to you complain and whine about anything else.”

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed and he laughed. LAUGHED. “What have you done with my Inuyasha?”

“Wench,” he warned teasingly. “Let me just tell you how seeing you back in your body has given me a whole new take on life. What’s that saying? ‘Separation makes the heart grow fonder’? The fear of losing you, I just--I swore I would be honest with you. I know we may have a war coming up with this Naraku freak but--I--”

“I get it, Inuyasha. I understand. I feel the same.”

“Do you?”

“I love you, Inuyasha. I--I don’t know how, why, or when it started… but I do.”

“I--fuck it--” he cut himself off by grasping her face and pulling her back into a fierce kiss that she excitedly returned. Even though his tongue traced her lips and she opened her mouth, accepting him and even returning the gesture as she sought to scrape her tongue against his fangs, the kiss remained tame. It was hot. It could have easily made her forget her virtues and what he wanted, but she held herself back on what little thread she could.

“Mmmm,” she hummed as he pulled away.

“I’m serious about waiting. I--I would like to court you. If you’ll allow me.”

“We can work out all the details later,” she smiled softly.

“Deal,” he said, sealing their agreement with another kiss.

#inuyasha x kagome #inu x kag #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #soulmate au #one shot #thank god this is done

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covrtofnightmares · 3 years

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&&. cauldron above, ( james deerling ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is affiliated with ( the spring court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 650 / appears 38 ) year old ( warrior fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( david gandy ). ( he ) has been said to be ( loyal & courageous ) but also quite ( ferocious & stubborn ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( the deerling patriarch / consort of the spring court ).

— ❝ you have to be a little bad to make history. ❞

name: james henry deerling

birthday: june 11th | gemini

scent: juniper, mandarin, oakmoss, cedar greens, fresh blooming roses, gentle seabreeze + ( SIGNATURE COLOGNE: light blue - dolce & gabbana )

appearance: james towers above most at a whopping 6′3″. naturally muscular and strong, both from being born into the warrior fae heritage and from years of training, james easily dwarfs most who stand around him. with a thick head of dark, wavy hair and his signature groomed beard, james looks every bit the rugged, rogue, wild warrior fae descending from the mountains.

current familial / relationship status: james is married to faun deerling who, up until recently, was presumed to be dead in astralis. he is aware of two children he bore legitimately with her, aurora and arielle, but is unaware at present that ares and apollo are his natural-born sons and believes them to be his step / adopted children.

biography: james henry deerling doesn’t know much about his origins. his mother, a warrior fae who had been cast out from her family for refusing to adhere to some of the more rigid, violent guidelines of their people, turned to prostitution in order to feed and clothe herself. she developed an affair with a highly regarded warrior fae among the spring court, giving him pleasure in return for coin, and when marietta discovered she was pregnant, she begged and pleaded with her lover to provide financially for the baby she was carrying. she did not believe she would make a fit mother, and when her lover--henry deerling--begrudgingly accepted to take james into his home, marietta left the child on the warrior’s doorstep and disappeared without a trace. henry deerling was a revered knight in the high lord’s army, responsible for training young recruits around the castle, and believed he had little to no time for a child. he intended to raise james as a servant, or similar to the way noblemen handled their bastardized children. but, as a widower with no close relatives, he soon came to love having a child about the house and made james his official heir.

growing up with a knight for a father did not make things easy for james with other warrior children who lived in the outskirts of the spring court. they often referred to him as a bastard, the son of a whore, or dirty blood, due to his unknown mother’s exile from their people. james was often assumed to be weak, due to his mother’s own fickle nature and his father’s strange behaviors, so when one boy shoved the young child into the mud while another, older child attempted to carve james’ wings off his back, telling the deerling heir that he didn’t deserve the wings of a warrior, something inside of james unleashed itself, his magic and might striking out against the other children around him.

children stopped making fun of james henry deerling after that night.

though his father was a knight, james earned no special favors among the spring court. he had to earn his keep, and after refusing to allow the other warrior children to demean his bloodline any longer, james took to the training field. honed fighting was a skill his father had always hoped james would take an interest in, and the two bonded over their sessions with great fervor. henry deerling trained his only son everything he knew about fighting and protecting their people, raising his child to become a man of great strength, power, and passion dedicated solely to protecting the spring court. he fought and clawed his way to a title of honor, first as a guard, before eventually making his way up the ranks to serve as the spring court’s official captain of the guard by the time he was in his mid to late twenties. it was a title he revered with great honor. after his induction ceremony, when james realized that his father had not been present at his ceremony, the deerling boy slipped into his quaint family home to find his father on the ground, his wings crumpled beneath him and his face purple. an empty goblet lay askew on the ground, indicating ingested poison, along with a letter henry held clutched in one hand. james, desperate and consumed with grief, was barely able to read the letter that had been addressed to him.

the elders in his clan had not forgotten the child born out of wedlock, a surprisingly severe crime among their particular branch of warrior fae, nor had they forgotten that the child had been borne from an exiled member of their pack. henry was subsequently punished for allowing the child to live, and not sacrificing him, as any good member of the family ought to, and for the first time in his life, james deerling felt overwhelming grief, loss, and guilt.

james deerling is a good man, but not every story has a happy beginning. so when the deerling heir composed himself, steely resolve had him track down every last member of his mother’s clan. with a burst of magic and a fury of wings and might, killed every last remaining member of his matriarchal clan, until he was the only one left aside from the mother who had abandoned him.

james devoted himself entirely to the protection of the doefoot clan and the high castle following the death of his father. grief was something james had not yet been accustomed with, so losing the only person in the entire world he had ever loved felt like walking through a forest blindfolded. several decades would pass before james learned to properly love another creature. faun doefoot, the glittering princess of the spring court, was sunshine and daisies; she was a warm spring breeze and the color of sunflowers and cherry blossoms. the spring court princess was a delight among astralis, and so when she approached james one day and begged him to teach her how to train herself in combat and self-defense, even stoic james deerling failed to be immune to her charms. james thoroughly believed learning combat techniques was important, given his own colorful background, and spent evenings training faun on how to best to defend herself in case of a siege, royal duel, or even against a random attacker. she became his closest friend and, along the way, something clicked into place deep inside of james’ chest. there was no denying it every time he exchanged furtive glances with her at balls or galas he worked for the royal family: he was desperately, hopelessly, achingly in love with faun deerling. she was stunning, of course, but it was not just her beauty that james became enamored with; it was the strength of her character and the passion in her soul. it was the way that he looked at her and the rest of the world seemed to stand still. he had imprinted on the crown princess of the spring court. and fiercely.

the two began a passionate, whirlwind love affair, each privately acknowledging that his rank and profession did not make him a suitable consort for an heiress who was meant to rule an entire kingdom. but whatever his reservations might have been about his own questionable lineage, faun was determined to tell her parents she would take no other suitor than james deerling; her captain, her confidant, her closest friend.

that’s when erik newblood happened.

the siege on the spring court was bloody, and though james and the rest of the guard and knighthood tried valiantly to defend the doefoots, they failed. they were outnumbered: in men, in power, in brute strength. it was a devastating loss, and faun was left in the hands of a monster. he wished, desperately, to be able to free faun from the marriage she now found herself in, but his mate informed him that anything he was thinking would be too risky to perform. hell descended upon the spring court, and the only moments of comfort and solace he found in the terrifying darkness that hovered over the spring court were the times he spent alone with faun. erik, in his vainglory, ordered james to the front of the line as the spring court’s war general, choosing to exploit their shared heritage as warrior fae for militant prowess. but while erik was a creature who consumed everything in sight, james preferred to preserve. still, more often than not, james had an inkling that the real reason erik promoted the captain of the guard to a high and prestigious position was so he could keep an eye on him.

it was much easier to keep an eye on a dog you’d leashed to you, after all.

presently, james has no idea that the two boys faun gave birth to, ares and apollo, were not sired by erik, but by himself. though he worried about their patriarchal heritage, james loved the boys as fiercely as if they were his own children, if only because they belonged to faun. he helped raise them in private, without the knowledge of erik, and slipped the boys gifts every solstice and birthday. sometimes, james pretended that the boys were his own; if he looked at ares and his sweet, chubby cheeks long enough, he even thought he saw something of himself in the dark-haired beauty that had captured the hearts of the spring court. perhaps if he pretended they were his sons, it would be enough. perhaps, though he’d never be a father to them, he could be something.

but faun was nothing if not resilient and strong, and through the skills he had helped her hone over the years, was able to covertly destroy the beast who had shackled himself to her. erik newblood was no more, and though james was petrified that faun had behaved so recklessly without him there as support, he felt overwhelming relief flood his system as a semblance of normalcy returned to the spring court. he and faun wedded, after so many years loving and mating in secret, and began to repair the damage erik had wreaked over their home since the regicide of faun’s parents. the two wed, in a beautiful ceremony praised and applauded by all of astralis, and james deerling rose from the role of war general to high lord and consort.

this was his home--anywhere faun, ares, and apollo were. though james still believes ares and apollo are not his children, he spent his rule treating them as if they were his own children by flesh and blood. when the time came for them to expand their family, however, james was only all too eager. and thus...their first baby girl was born: aurora deerling, the crowned jewel of the spring court, and a princess who had carved out a piece of james deerling’s heart and kept it for herself. james became a dutiful father, and when arielle was born not three years later, james swore he had never been happier in his entire life. four children, two of which were even his by blood, and his treasured mate by his side. perhaps the gods had forgiven him for failing his father so many centuries ago; perhaps they had told him he deserved to be happy.

or perhaps the gods were still angry.

when faun was taken from james this time, with great force and jarring suddenness, james felt something inside of him wither away and die. erik newblood was dead again, this time at the hands of an enraged ares, and james blamed himself. it was difficult to face his family, realizing that he had, once again, failed to properly protect that which belonged to him. unable to face a throne that did not belong to him, james left the spring court and fled to the mountains. grief consumed him, shaping james into a vengeful creature, the likes of which he had not seen since his father’s untimely passing. he was not the monster that erik newblood had been, but he was his own manner of beast.

most believe that james deerling escaped to the mountains solely due to the loss of his wife. and while grief consumed him, james deerling was also a man of hard-headed, stubborn ferociousness. he spent the next two decades researching--faun’s body had never been properly buried, nor did he have clues about the whereabouts of his missing child. he inhaled books, ranging from modern to ancient texts, about enchantments, curses, and loopholes in the very fabric of astralis that could explain the things james refused to look in the face: death. and still, he trained: not just with himself, but with others. there were other warrior fae who lived in the mountains, clans who had despised his mother’s family for their rigid, cruel, and archaic ways, who recognized the man who had slaughtered the spring court’s most notorious warrior clan without the bat of an eye. their children and grandchildren, having grown up on the fable that was james deerling, poured forth and offered their services to him.

if james deerling was going to take on astralis with his bare fucking hands, he’d need to rally an army.

his nights were spent in loneliness, craving faun’s absence, but his days were filled with research, training, and questioning leads he uncovered that led to any possible clues about his wife’s death and his missing child. finally, after years of digging and training, and the solstice hanging above their heads, james held a breakthrough: he knew where faun was. it was just a matter of returning her where she rightfully belonged. and if he could get faun back, then he’d be able to find out what had happened to his sweet aurora, as well.

james deerling is coming back from the mountains. and unbeknownst to his son, he’s bringing with him an entire army of trained warrior fae who plan to serve the spring court unfailingly as they wipe out their enemies.

affinity: as a warrior fae born into the spring court, he possesses some of the natural affinities of spring, though james’ strength is almost exclusively in his combat abilities

wings: as is typical with the warrior race, james has durable wings perfect for flight and combat. his are large, taloned black wings, similar to that of a dragon, marking him as a strong predator in the sky. james’ regal wings are built for endurance, battle, and instilling fear into those who dare to oppose him.

#JAMES //#the white wolf: ( intro )#prostitution tw

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anablackwood · 3 years

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『 anne hathaway. thirty-eight. cis woman. she/her. 』 oh heavens, is that ANASTASIA BLACKWOOD from MAIN STREET i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -INSECURE & -SHELTERED. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool ART TEACHER AT MAPLEVIEW ELEMENTARY and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +LOVING & + EMPATHIC. i hope i see them around again!』

🌼 Anastasia is the firstborn of the three Blackwood children. From the moment she was born, her parents had her life planned out for her. While blessed to be born into a family of wealth, power, and respect, Anastasia was also cursed to live a life without much choice. Both of her parents were independently wealthy, her father also being one of the highest sought after lawyers that Chicago offered, but her mother remained a trophy housewife.

🌼 Throughout her childhood, Anastasia was always being prepared to take on the Blackwood fortune. From classes to teach her obedience, manners, and how to act like a proper woman, all the way to her mother cutting images out of magazines of what the ‘ideal’ woman was supposed to look like, Anastasia endured a lot of constant pressure to act and look a certain way.

🌼 When her siblings were born, Anastasia felt the pressure to uphold the Blackwood name even more. If she was caught playing with her siblings, instead of teaching, she would get the wrath of both parents. If she ate more than what was on her plate, she was denied further food until she apologized to her mother. If she laughed when there were no jokes being told, her father punished her by isolating her for twenty four hours in hopes that she would be the examples her siblings needed to learn from. This particularlyy got worse when the youngest Blackwood was born (the more rebellious one) because there wasn’t anything Anastasia wouldn’t endure so long as her siblings didn’t have to.

🌼 Anastasia was set up to marry her father’s best friend, son. A marriage merely put together to keep the strong name both families owned and the money going. There was never an ounce of love from her end whenever the two were on dates, let alone when they shared a kiss. She wanted nothing more than to detach further from her reality, the more she was forced to spend time with her intended husband.

🌼 Art was something to come into her life at a very young age, always attending high held art galleries and visiting the museums of the world. It was also one of the rare things in her life that she did not hate but loved. Countless hours were spent at the museums with either herself or her siblings because those were also the rare moments her parents didn’t try and control. They encouraged her visits in hopes that she was educating herself on quality taste, when, in reality, Anastasia was falling more for a forbidden passion.

🌼 The day before her wedding, Anastasia did the unthinkable; she went against her parent's wishes. Unable to go into a loveless marriage, she packed what little she genuinely call hers and left the comfort of her home in the middle of the night. For a week, she lived in fear that her parents would find her, but she also lived in the guilt of what her siblings must be facing due to her actions. Her biggest regret was leaving behind her youngest sibling, having been the closest with them the most.

🌼 It wasn’t until she found Mapleview at the age of thirty-one, settled into her cozy home, and was well established with her job that she finally contacted her family again. It went as expected, fully terrible, but at least she was able to get updates on her siblings. Despite the cruel words her parents threw her way, Anastasia refused to leave Mapleview. To this day, she fully believes Mapleview saved her life.

🌼 Having spent a couple of years in Mapleview, she never thought about dating. She was content living in her home with her two dogs, until the day Jacob Horowitz came into her life. Even if the man wasn’t trying, he captured her heart with his playful personality. Every joke he threw out, she found funny, including the ones that were a little cheesey. He brought giggles, crinkles to the corners of her eyes from so much smiling, and a happiness she couldn’t have ever imagined existed in the world. The day he asked her on a date was the happiest day of her life thus far.

🌼 While they have only ever gone on one date, Anastasia blamed herself for him never requesting another. She figured she was just not attractive enough, funny enough, or entertaining enough, and she understood why he wouldn’t want to be around her. Once a failure to the Blackwood name would always be a failure, so her father would say. She holds no ill will towards the loveable goofball, only good feelings, but she secretly hopes to one day get a chance to show him that she can be better.

#mapleviewintro

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lady-charinette · 4 years

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Chapter 1 - Strings & Papers Lukanette AU (Teacher!Marinette & SingleDad!Luka)

A/N: Hello everyone! As requested, I made this into a full fic. It was originally something small on Tumblr, an AU idea for Lukanette (SingleDad!Luka and Teacher!Marinette) but after many requests, I finally decided to post the first chapter.

INFO:

All characters are aged up! Everyone is at least in their late twenties/early thirties.

Modern AU without superpowers/kwamis. Tikki is a cat here ^_^

A few OC’s will make appearances, mostly the children of some of the original ML characters (Luka’s child Leon…etc.)

This is purely Lukanette.

Oh and I apologize for any OOCness in advance!

Enjoy reading! :)

Chapter 1

Children rushed about, the room bustling with life as her students went about their tasks; trying to create something using their hands and imagination.

It could be drawings, clay creations, any piece of art that the children were able to craft.

The important thing was, it was something that made them happy and that they liked.

“Miss Marinette! Miss Marinette! Look what I did!“ the boy waved his clay creation in the air wildly, cupped securely in his hands.

His teacher flashed him a bright smile, bending down to look at him and his clay figure properly, “Oh! What a cute dog!” the brown clay figure with blotches of white was slightly disfigured, but Marinette could tell from it’s general shape it was supposed to be a dog, a dog with missing ears, but a dog nonetheless.

Marinette grinned cheerfully and nodded towards the others. “Is this what makes you happy?”

He didn’t hesitate to reply. “Mhm! I love my dog very much!” he raised his arms and spread them as wide apart as they could go, indicating how much he loved his pet.

Marinette’s alert gaze swept over her class, catching some students drawing quietly on some tables, others chatting energetically on the arts and crafts table with glue and colourful carton papers strewn about.

Some children were on the floor, building castles, vehicles or even people with lego blocks.

She walked around, asking every child how they were doing and if they needed any help. Marinette offered holding the tall lego tower for a girl while she got the little decorative bow on top of it, her mother’s workplace she said, a place she could play at where her mother was also nearby, because she didn’t want to be alone at home.

The next child was a boy with dark messy hair and kind brown eyes, Leon. He was drawing something.

Two people, surrounded with what looked like music notes. And what appeared to be an instrument on top of the taller figure, a guitar.

Marinette crouched down next to the table and peeked over his shoulder, giggling when he turned his head and wore a full blown grin on his face. “Miss Marinette!” her heart warmed and lips pulled into an automatic smile at his glee.

Leon was such a cheerful child. He was a walking contradiction at times, cheerful and kind but also quiet and polite, he was never mean to his classmates or teachers.

He sometimes hummed a melody during class, but quiet enough not to disturb her or anyone else, she sometimes heard it when the whole class was silent, except for Leon, who hummed a tune to himself, swinging his legs with a small smile on his face.

Marinette remembered the first time she asked him about it, the reason why he hummed and if it was a special melody.

His answer had surprised her. ‘Mhm! My dad always sings me to sleep that way! He’s really good with his voice.”

She couldn’t remember ever meeting the man, Leon’s father, she vaguely remembered jotting down a phone number as the parental contact information, but she couldn’t remember it.

The only parental figure that frequently picked Leon up from school was his aunt Juleka, whom Marinette always had pleasant conversations with. The woman was kind if a bit shy, her voluminous hair, dark save for the purple streak at the front and at the ends, half hiding her left eye. It would’ve hidden the entirety of her face if not for the hairclip holding it at bay.

Marinette couldn’t blame her, she herself normally styled her hair into pigtails, loose hair would get everywhere in her face and it was impractical for teaching.

She also experienced some of the more daring kids try to pull on it, so pigtails were always a safe bet.

Marinette focused back on the picture Leon was drawing, particularly the two figures on it. “Is that you and your dad?” she saw him nod his head, using black to colour the top of his father’s head and blue for the ends. She stifled a giggle, always amazed at how creative children could get. She saw a girl once draw her father with flowing rainbow hair and when she’d seen the man in person, he almost looked nothing alike from the childishly drawn picture his daughter portrayed him to be.

“Your dad’s hair looks cool.” She smiled, giggling at the light blue.

“Thank you.” His polite phrase made her smile and the pedagogical figure in her rejoice, she was proud whenever parents raised their children right.

Then, she pointed to the guitar over his head, his best attempt at the instrument, which Marinette had to admit was good for someone his age. “Is that your guitar?”

This time, Leon shook his head. “No, that’s my dad’s. He plays it whenever he’s home, he also plays for me.” He smiled shyly, sheepishly, rubbing his messy black hair. “Um, I tried to play once, but it fell on the ground. Dad didn’t get mad, but I felt really guilty.” His cheeks tinged pink and Marinette felt sympathy well within her heart as she placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I’m sure your dad forgave you as soon as it happened, it was an accident, right? Accidents happen all the time, Leon! I dropped my mug in the kitchen today!” she giggled, cringing internally because she was known for her clumsiness.

The boy stuck his bottom lip out and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, I still felt really bad, but dad said it was okay…” a bright smile curled his lips in the next second, eyes alight with excitement. “Miss Marinette, can I tell you a secret?”

Marinette steeled herself, adjusting her grip on the table to support her weight. Children were honest by nature, they frequently revealed things about their home life, in extent their parents’, to the teachers. Most things weren’t bad, but very amusing, a secret source of entertainment for teachers to talk over coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

Leon whispered before she could say anything, grinning from ear to ear. “My dad is the best dad in the world!”

She blinked, surprised, but laughed at the ‘secret’, shaking her head and affectionately pinching Leon’s cheek, which made him laugh. “Really? Then I guess I should meet the best dad in the world sometime, hm? I would love to meet him.” She was being honest too.

It was important for teachers to know the parents of the children they taught and took care of through the day and their early education, knowing from what sort of familial backgrounds children came from was important to adjust their teachings or offer the appropriate help if children were surrounded by less than desirable circumstances.

Marinette doubted that was the case with Leon, but she was curious about his father, since she never met either him nor the mother.

She did hear from the aunt that his mother was working and living overseas and that the father was her older brother, but that was that.

She hadn’t thought to ask the aunt, since she thought his father would come to pick his son up himself sometime. So far, that hadn’t been the case, but Marinette could be patient.

If he was as great as Leon described, surely he would have time to drop by sometime?

Standing up, Marinette complimented the drawing one last time before she clapped her hands and announced for the children to hang up they art works somewhere in the classroom, on the walls or the strings over their heads to decorate the room with.

Weeks had already passed since the school year started and Marinette longed for something new and fresh to liven up the classroom, the children found the idea good too. It would help keep their creativity flowing and to brighten the overall atmosphere.

Her gaze strayed to the clock on the wall and a sigh left her lips.

It was almost time for the big break.

A few minutes later…

The two women laughed, Marinette stirring her coffee to dissolve the sugar as her best friend and fellow teacher Alya talked about her day. “Wait, you didn’t take the glue from him?”

The busty woman snorted, taking a big sip from her black coffee before she smirked like a fox. “Nope! I let him squeeze out every last drop, he learned his lesson when the ball rang. He had to clean up all the mess himself and he got a good scolding from his mom too. Good woman, I salute her!” she lifted her mug in a mock salute and Marinette laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m sure the boy had reasons to be so destructive.” Truthfully, children with such tendencies weren’t rare, they were aware of the phases of each child and that sometimes by destroying things, they released pent up frustration or helped themselves focus better afterwards. But this child seemed to be a bit different. “What’s his background like? The parents?”

Alya sighed, taking another long gulp. “Father’s a mechanic, has a bit of a sailor’s mouth. The mother is an iron hard business woman, she even makes me freeze on the spot whenever she comes to pick him up.” She grimaced, extending her hand to throw a sugar cube into her coffee. “I think the dynamics in the family are a bit unbalanced. The father is a bit too lenient but the mother is too strict, causing the two to clash. They’re unsure of their parenting methods, they even had a small verbal fight during parent teacher conference.”

Ugh, Marinette secretly dreaded those days, as did every other teacher.

Parents came in all shapes and sizes, just like anyone else.

There were parents who were the spitting images of their offspring, other were their polar opposites.

There were parents with impeccable backgrounds, academically successful people, but lacking in human warmth. Parents that continued the archaic parenting methods of their own parents, never intending to change the way they were raising their own children from their own childhood treatment.

Marinette disliked those the most, ones that weren’t progressive in their thinking but cocooned in their own ‘deal’ version of how a child had to behave or to what limits a parent’s authority could reach.

It was her secret pleasure whenever she had an opportunity to shoot them down and lecture them otherwise, she lived for those moments to see the colour drain from the adult’s faces while she explained all the potential negative ways their toxicity could affect their child after, that children weren’t ‘small adults’ and that every child had different needs and required a different form of parenting finesse.

Some parents were defensive and angry like lions, others more kind and understanding and willing to better themselves and correct the errors.

In the kitchen of the teacher’s lounge, somewhere in the back of her mind, Marinette kept Leon’s picture stored in her memory and during her conversation with Alya, she wondered just what sort of parent Leon’s father was.

——–

It was two in the afternoon and classes were over for today, for the children the day of duties and learning was over.

But for Marinette, she still had tons of work to do.

She watched the children leave the classroom, watched them put on their outdoor shoes and how some parents were already waiting for them out of the classroom.

Those moments, when the parents came to pick up their children, those moments Marinette loved most.

To see the pure joy of child and parent at seeing each-other, after being separated only for a few hours. To see them kiss and embrace each-other and laugh. The parents asking about their day and the kids retelling everything they did, from the tiniest details, the most insignificant things to the big events.

The parents listened with a smile, some shutting off their phones so colleagues from work didn’t disturb them.

There were also other parents, some greeted their children with a quick hug and kiss, ushering them along so they didn’t stay away from work for too long. Others gave a robotic kiss to their cheeks and took their school bags, marching out of the school like a soldier in the military, their child trailing behind them like a doll pulled by its strings.

Marinette always stayed with the ones whose parents were running late, being met with endless exclamations of gratitude for watching over them on her break and the like, with numerous apologies spilling from their mouths about traffic and work or too many duties overlapping.

She understood, she was an adult herself, and while not a mother, Marinette knew how difficult children could be. Her past work experiences in a local kindergarten taught her the very definition of patience.

And what it means to be assertive.

Kindergarten kids could be surprisingly stubborn and with their temper tantrums, nothing was safe from them.

She remembered starting her private meditating sessions for that very reason, always after work, with or without relaxing music and her bed.

She tried a scented candle once, but nearly burned her foot after not paying attention.

Sometimes, relaxing music didn’t help, the zen-esque tunes not appealing to her at all. She sometimes wondered if the people composing the music ever really tried mediating to it.

But the most relaxing thing to her was still her other passion, besides teaching.

Fashion.

She loved to create.

She encouraged creative minds in whatever way she could.

Her own parents’ encouragement and support in her youth drove her to pursue a career in fashion, then switch over to teaching, to be in a role where she could offer the same kind of warm encouragement and fierce support children didn’t have from home.

Her wardrobe consisted of more than half of her own creations, clothes by her own design. She’d tried opening a small fashion store once, but had to close it due to time constrictions. She couldn’t do two very time consuming jobs at the same time.

It might have been ‘just’ elementary school, but correcting hundreds of students’ tests, writing new ones, overseeing several classes while attending her own educational courses took up a lot of time.

Marinette relished coming home, stretching and taking a quick shower before she set to work.

Before she opened any of her thick folders or worksheets for school, she first opened her journal.

She always liked to document things, for safety but also private reasons. As insurance and the fond – and not so fond – memories to find a home.

For that purpose, she kept two diaries.

A journal for work.

A diary for home.

Marinette took the thick leather bound tome first, a modest brown leather design, a feather imprinted onto the leathery material on the cover, the thick book held closed by a magnet.

She opened it, skimming through filled pages to get to a blank one.

And she began writing, Tikki mewling at her feet, her soft fur brushing against her legs, whiskers tickling her skin while Marinette scribbled furiously, toes gently running along Tikki’s arching back.

“Hello journal,

Today had been a good day, 24th of October.

I started class at 8 sharp, there were only two children who called in sick, with parents excusing their absences immediately.

Class began with arts and crafts, the children received instructions on the tasks for today: decorating the classroom.

The old decorations were discarded, some saved in the storage room for further use, but the broken and tattered ones disposed of. The children had to create something that made them happy, in whichever form they could. Drawing, painting, using clay or building blocks to their heart’s content.

I tried helping as little as I could, to not impede their creativity, but offered helpful advice when asked. Most used clay to form figurines of their parents, siblings or pets. Some even formed food. A few creations caught my eyes, but all of them were unique and beautiful in their own way. Some of the children took their creations home, drawings they made a second or third time mostly. But many others stayed to decorate the classroom, it gave a refreshed image and helped levitate the atmosphere.

Break was spent outside in the school garden, I led some of the children to the vegetable garden to check on the growing plants and explained some of the still budding vegetables, unrecognizable in their ‘baby form’ as the students called it.

Tasks for tomorrow were quickly finished, I worked through my fifteen minute break, the short assignments about ‘happy memories’ had been read through but refrained from correcting. It had been one of their first written tasks, so I refrained from putting a stamp on them with red markings. I’ve returned them today, for the two sick children, I kept them in my desk in the teacher’s lounge to be dealt out once the children returned.

Parents had picked their children after school was over, some running late. Ms. Wilson had a suspicious countenance in particular, I detected a faint scent of something alcoholic, but didn’t address the matter. I did send a message to social worker Chloe Bourgeois, who agreed to look into the matter after some measures. Apparently, the family had already been a case not yet laid to rest and they’d waited for a cue to finally take action.

More to come tomorrow, goodbye for now.

- Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Marinette yawned, spying the clock on her desk reading just passed seven in the evening. Had she been sitting for that long already? She shook her head, leaning down to scratch Tikki’s head, resting languidly on Marinette’s foot.

She would need to feed her later and check her water bowl. Tikki was sometimes surprisingly gluttonous, despite her slender frame.

Stifling another yawn, Marinette safely stored the notebook in her first drawer, locking it with a key and slipping the metal into a hidden sleeve underneath her desk, well concealed from inattentive eyes.

She smiled when she grabbed her private diary, the pink leather book feeling heavy with memory in her hands.

She pulled off the leather string tying it together and flipped it open to a fresh page.

And began to write.

“Dear diary,

Today had been a stressful day.

The children were fine and well-behaved, but I had so much work to do! Not to mention, I missed one of my breaks because a colleague had called in sick unexpectedly and I had to fill their shift. Can you believe it? She couldn’t have called hours ago before school started, she HAD to call five minutes before her class started and I had to FLY across the hallway to make sure the children were inside and busy with tasks.

Sometimes, I wish I could throw a banana at some of my colleagues.

Some people just shouldn’t have become teachers.

The world would be a better place, the children growing in it too.

Speaking of children, something caught my eye today that I just couldn’t get out of my head.”

Marinette paused, tongue sticking out of her mouth as the image of Leon’s drawing burned brightly in her mind, as if she imprinted it so perfectly into memory.

“Leon drew a picture today, under the theme ‘what makes me happy’. He drew a picture of his family, his dad and him. He didn’t draw his mother and I didn’t ask, it wasn’t my place to and I doubt he’d know anything aside from ‘mommy doesn’t live with us’ or the like. At least, that’s the impression I got. But from everything I saw so far, it looked like the father didn’t live with him either. He never set foot in school before! Or at least I never saw him, Alya apparently did, but couldn’t really remember, saying it was for a short time and there were so many people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, thinking back to the conversation she had with Alya in the kitchen.

That woman could memorize six pages of their random chats about a boy they gossiped in high school, but couldn’t, for the life of her, remember seeing the parent of one of the children at parent teacher conference two years ago. She smiled, shaking her head fondly and the pen was scratching against paper again.

“Anyway, what Miss Reporter said, Leon’s father was apparently pretty busy. She didn’t know what his occupation was, but it was the only logical conclusion, right? A man that rarely picks his son up from school? Sends his sister to do it for him? He must be some businessman. Then again, Leon mentioned how ‘he was the best dad in the world’ and he would sing and play songs for him before he went to sleep. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, but what was the deal with not coming to school? Was he a former dropout? Did he just have a phobia? Maybe he really was just too busy, but still, something’s fishy. Juleka, the aunt, mentioned how apologetic the man felt for not always being there….I guess he might not be a bad parent, but still, Leon talked so fondly of him, I really hope he isn’t the jerky parent I think he could be. I also, wondered about where the mother was. Leon rarely ever talks about her, I don’t really dare to ask neither him nor Juleka. It was a family matter after all, but still, I was biting my nails the whole time! Juleka just mentioned the mom lived and worked overseas and the dad was busy, but that was it. Were they divorced? Forced to live apart because of work? I don’t think Leon seemed to mind much, at least he hadn’t showed any signs to. He rarely talks about his mom, but he regularly gushes about his dad. Maybe I shouldn’t judge too quickly, the man could have his reasons for not picking up his child.

Still, I’ll see where that goes. Maybe I’ll try to flip through the parent contact book and try to give him a call, just to see how he would react.

Anyway, that’s all for today, I still need to feed Tikki and myself.

See you tomorrow, dear diary!

- Marinette

Thanks for reading! What did you think so far? :)

Tag List: @seraphkitty @canadianburd @macaknight @fher43 @vivilakitty @quickspinner @im-here-for-the-content @decaffeinated-happyshit @jessigurl-design @2sunchild2 @zebrabaker @redscarlet95 @didntwant2come @graduatedmelon @eve-is-the-dawn @bresso23 @anjuschiffer @alissawhited-blog @rudy-ruby @mystery-5-5 @winter-gardenflower @kayla-the-rambling-writer @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @captainmac6 @violatiger8 @crazywhitemofo @varksvader

@veroocasanova (I’m sorry for not asking before, but I remembered you wanting to read more Lukanette fics without Adrien salt 😅)

#ml au #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #lukanette au #lukanette fic #luka x marinette #teacher!marinette #singledad!luka #i like your dad au #lmao I will not get rid of that name huh #luka couffaine #marinette dupaincheng #leon couffaine #fanfiction #crossposted on AO3 & FFnet

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clareisa · 4 years

Text

Seventeen/Vocal Unit as DEMIGODS

♠ - greek demigods AU

♠ - English is not my first language, so please, excuse my mistakes

♠ - hip-hop unit / performance unit / vocal unit

Jeonghan:

Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of beauty, love and desire

popular like Aphrodite’s child can be, he knows that very well and sometimes using it to his advantage

no matter who it is, when Jeonghan smile their direction no demigod can’t stop blush appearing and feel memorable tingling in the lower tummy

appearing shy at first, because he is conscious of his surroundings, but is quite social and knows how to have fun

master of relationship advice for anyone that comes to him... somehow he just knows what is the best

likes to gossiping around about who is with who and doing what, he is telling that he just like what is going in his surroundings

loves to admiring his work when someone that asked for his advice confessed successfully or resolved a problem in a relationship

another of his hobbies is flirting with any breathing and living creature in the camp and making them flustered

sometimes he is doing it when he needs something, sometimes for boosting his ego and sometimes to just make them smile and brighten up their day

his speciality is growing beautiful roses that will be blooming as long as love is present between the person who gave the rose and person who received it as a gift

not a really competitive demigod, not so hard on him with training with weapons and such

he rather has his “beauty sleep” any time of the day he likes to... well you can’t argue cuz it, obviously, doing its job

has different likings and preferences like most of his siblings in regards to friends who never liked to be near demigods that represented something dark, evil or simply different

he changed his mind when once Joshua, son on Hades, helped him when no other could and since then they are best friends

became fascinated by “dark” demigods and their mystical aura

came to a camp in his middle teens and it didn’t take a long time for his mother to claim him as his son even with some misunderstandings

he was really beautiful but thanks to his extensive love to sleep children of Hypnos were almost sure he belongs with them

sometimes savage with his pranks but everyone loves good prank by him especially towards fierce children of Ares

friendly and talkative but loyal only to his inner circle

loves to see others happy but secretly desperate for someone loving him and not just because of his beauty

Joshua:

Son of Hades, God of underworld, death and wealth

the polar opposite of what a lot of demigods and other creatures in the camp thinking of him because of his origin, his father

his eyes are so pitch black that when someone scared or disgusted by him would look into them for a long time, they will see their worst fears

people might think he is cold-hearted but is as gentle as a man can be with the flawless soul

good with money and knows well how to earn them, has a really good expensive taste

no matter if someone is scared of him or not, every demigod come to him or one of his few siblings if someone close to them dies

they want to know if their soul safely went to the other side, maybe hearing some last words from them

most of them after such an experience stops being scared of him and begins to act kindly to him

owns three black Canis Panther dogs which are always by his side, they are sibling and he saved them from the street when they were puppies

with Joshua not knowing that it was his dad sending them so the dogs will keep him company and protect him

he is talented at brewing potions of any kind

one of his hobbies and talents it’s actually making beautiful jewellery with beautiful gems and precious metals that are sometimes enchanted by his friend Wonwoo

those who are still stereotyping him telling about him that “the devil is and always will be a gentleman”, suggesting that even tho he acts kind he is still evil inside

this always made Joshua feel heartbroken and made him a lonely and bitter demigod, but after meeting Jeonghan and Vernon he started believed in friendship again and opened up to more people gaining amazing friends

has soft spot for children of Persephone, they are always so charming and mysterious... he probably has this from his father

came to the camp when he turned twenty already being a successful businessman making it easier for his dad to mark him

it did take some time but after blooming flowers dying when he walked by it was incontestable who is his godly parent

started to carrying more about the world around him after he came to the camp so it’s now a regular guest at Athena’s cabin being their sincere listener

the brightest person around his best friends and willing to give out a life for them

from time to time he is staring lovingly at the moon, imagining that one day someone will love him dearly despite his dark origin and always cold hands

Woozi:

Son of Athena, Goddess of wisdom, battle strategy and crafts

a beloved demigod in the camp and prominent part of his mother’s cabin being quick-witted and very perceptive

every living being in the camp can’t help themselves and just love and adore him for his captivating charms and intelligence

seems shy and blunt, but he has deep feelings, and when he becomes close to someone, such a relationship will be for eternity

the best demigod to go to when you need some advice... but only if you crave logical and rational solutions ... he is not emotionless, he just like clear answers

loves to relax by walking around reading a book or play on piano along with Apollo’s children

thanks to his origin Woozi is easily learning new languages and not just the human ones

other demigods often get confused when they see him happily talking to all kind of magical creatures around the grounds of the camp

cheerfully and happily teaching all those who ask for his help... either academic stuff or strategy for their battles in the arena

he doesn’t want to call it divination, more like an instinct, when he can predict opponents moves in battle

he is interested in sculpture and pottery a lot, creating beautiful and useful pieces of pottery for other cabins

famous scolder of kids of Poseidon and Dionysus, mainly Mingyu and Soonyoung, for being too reckless and risking hurting others or violating the rules

he would like them to study more and not just fighting to blood or running around usually getting lost

caretaker of the camp library... he secretly put all the books he wrote to the front shelves because they are just so good

came to the camp at a very young age being too intelligent for his own good

his mother claiming him as her son was the reason he even went ... seeing his extra-ordinary talents was more than enough

one of the only one that can defeat children of Nike in battle or intelligence tests

very protective about his friends and siblings in any occasion, even the smallest one

wishes to meet someone that will make him think with his heart rather than his head... when that will happen he will know that person is the one

DK:

Son of Demeter, Goddess of agriculture, harvest and seasons

known as the happy, cheerful and energetic demigod that cares for everyone and everything around him

smiling at everyone, greeting them or complimenting, charging them with some kind of positive energy only him and his siblings can give

noisy at a first impression and that is how actually he is all the time... always talking or singing, he just loves to communicate

he is an expert at making people laugh and feel better, any time he sees or sense someone is down he immediately wants to help

often offering the delicious fresh juice or fruits he is growing in Demeter’s gardens because he believes something delicious can change your mood for better

one of few children of Demeter that can understand to the language of animals

it is helpful not just to him but his siblings and whole camp as well since animals around plays a big role in a life cycle

often gets weird stares when he is walking around since almost all the time he has birds sitting on his shoulder or squirrels holding on on his arm

his speciality is honey made by his magical bees... this honey added to any tea can heal the sickness or give you the energy you need

he is quite competitive in training and fights in the arena but often forgets to even arrive since he is so deep into nourishing his precious gardens

he can use any plant as a weapon by making them grow fastly and controlling their movements

but such enchanted plants won't be able to grow some harvest to eat

often inviting son of Apollo and Zeus, Seungcheol and Vernon, to his gardens to hanging out

yes they are his friends but having two demigods controlling powers thanks to which his gardens grow is very convenient

he came to the camp in his middle teens when actually some of his siblings spotted him talking with animals

it took quite a long time to Demeter to claim him as her son since he wasn’t very good with growing any kind of plant

when he is the happiest any fruit or herb will turn gold in his arms, making the taste of it heavenly and after eating it you can last without food for weeks

only trust his best friends and some of his siblings but he is opened and willing to help anyone

dreaming about someone that will come to his life and will be taking care of him and his heart like he is doing it with his precious gardens

Seungkwan:

Son of Nike, Goddess of victory, speed and strength

one of the most lively demigods in the camp, running around with energy almost coming out from him to space

has sensitive and emotional personality and sometimes takes unnecessary things too much to his heart

appearing as very active and full of life and that is exactly how he is, he is naturally giving people hope with just his existence

the best demigod to go to when you are down and you need to level up your self-esteem, he can boost your mental strength well

loves company but his way to relax is just walks along the lake, forest, just nature in general when he can only hear himself and the beautiful silence

after months he finally became one of the best fighters in the camp and is now representing his mother’s name by winning

some demigods like children of Ares or Nemesis are often accusing Nike’s cabin that they are winning just cuz of the magic

but Seungkwan knows the true powers of his mother aren’t in winning without anything, but in the determination in him and other siblings

thanks to that they are never tired of trying the same thing over and over until they’ll win

has wings growing from his back like his siblings but his and just a couple of others wings’ feathers are made from pure gold

he loves to spend time in stables, taking care of his favourite creatures ever... pegasuses

his favourite times in camp is when after wild thunderstorm made by Zeus cabin, children of Iris creates beautiful rainbows he loves so much flying throught

went flying with Vernon once since he wanted to see how his friend’s wings can actually bring a thunderstorm

but thanks to his wings being so close to Vernon’s, the raindrops turned gold

one of the newest campers came just a couple of months ago

his mother claimed him quickly since as soon as he came to the camp his wings started showing... which freaked him a lot

the best in chariot races and it is just because the horses like him the best

is ready to fight for anyone that is standing on the good side

waiting for someone who will break his stereotype and finally, win his heart over

#seventeen reactions #seventeen au #demigod au #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #jeonghan #joshua #woozi #dk #seungkwan #seventeen scenarios #seventeen

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leviblum · 3 years

Photo

↪ brief introduction to levi blum.

BASICS

full name: levi aksel blum. nickname(s): lev. age: twenty-nine. date of birth: 15 september 1992. zodiac sign: virgo. place of birth: san diego, california, united states. ethnicity: white, ashkenazi jewish. nationality: american. gender: cis male. sexual orientation: pansexual. romantic orientation: panromantic. religion: levi grew up practicing judaism alongside his family and though he doesn’t practice as strictly as he did when he was younger he still tries to attend temple as often as he can, tries to keep a kosher diet, etc. education: bachelor’s of fine arts in photography from the university of southern california. occupation: he’s a professional surfer though he’s taking a break from the sport while he recovers from an injury; to make money outside of that he’s a freelance photographer. language(s) spoken: english, hebrew, yiddish. accent: he definitely has what people might consider to be a “stereotypical” southern california accent– of the sort that surfers have on television but if you asked him he’d be fairly adamant that he doesn’t have an accent at all.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: logan lerman. hair color: dark brown. eye color: blue. height: 5′9″. weight: 159 lbs. build: athletic. tattoos: he has an ocean themed sleeve on his left arm ( here ) & a tattoo on his chest of a cresting wave ( here ). piercings: he has a septum piercing and two lobe piercings in his left ear. distinguishing characteristics: people tend to comment on his sleeve tattoo when he can wear clothes that show it off, his demeanor – he’s a relatively mellow person, how passionate he is about his work.

PERSONALITY

label: the thalassophile. positive traits: adventurous, affectionate, ambitious, compassionate, confident, creative, easy-going, empathetic, fearless, genuine, loyal, passionate, persistent, quick-witted, relaxed, sincere, thoughtful. negative traits: boastful, flippant, gullible, impatient, impulsive, irresponsible, jealous, opinionated, petty, possessive, sarcastic, shameless, stubborn. goals/desires: to recover from his injury and get back to surfing, to make the best of the time he’s in providence peak, to be open to any new experiences life throws at him. fears: that surfing won’t ever be the same after his injury, that he’ll never feel fulfilled doing anything else when his surfing career is over. hobbies: screwing around editing in photoshop, listening to podcasts, skateboarding, hanging out with his dog, playing guitar, watching foreign films, watching old american films, going to temple, facetiming with his sisters, going out with his friends, drinking, surfing, learning new photography skills, people watching, sex, scrolling through dating apps when he’s bored, collecting skateboard decks, cooking, going to the beach, swimming, traveling, finding creative ways to keep a kosher diet, smoking pot. quirks: he talks with his hands when he’s excited about something, he’ll invariably mention surfing at least once in any given conversation without thinking about it, he always seems to have some top 40 song or another stuck in his head, he chews on his fingernails when he’s anxious, he always seems just a little too relaxed in any given situation. likes: visiting places he’s never been before, doing tourist-y stuff in new cities, meeting new people, talking about surfing, skateboarding, spending time with friends, dad jokes, hanging out with his cousin, good beer / good alcohol in general, mexican food, coffee, watching nature documentaries, true crime podcasts, cheesy action movies, foreign films, old hollywood films, the beach, adrenaline highs, sex, people he can be totally relaxed around. dislikes: dealing with shitty people, anyone who wants to talk shit on what he’s chosen to do with his life, not being able to surf, physical therapy, missing temple, being away from the water for long periods of time, wine, anti-semites, not seeing his family for most lengths of time, bad pot.

FAMILY

father: gabriel isaak blum. mother: astrid marie blum ( née bronson ). sibling(s): abigail, hannah & naomi blum. pet(s): he has a six month old husky puppy named kelly ( after kelly slater ). financial status: upper middle class.

BIOGRAPHY

When Astrid Bronson and Gabriel Blum met on a sunny afternoon in Los Angeles it seemed even to the friends who’d introduced them that something in the universe that had longed to settle down had finally clicked into place. Their backgrounds were wildly different– Astrid having grown up in Hollywood with family who had been involved in the both the entertainment industry on one side and the media in general on the other; and Gabriel hailing from a small community in the Sierra Nevada’s that had never been home to more than three hundred people during the length of his life there and still managed to be one of the most wonderful, accepting places he’d ever known. In Gavin’s mind it had been a waste of his first two weeks at UCLA to not have met Astrid any sooner than he’d managed to and it seemed to him to be a stroke of luck of the highest sort that Astrid was just as smitten with him as he was with her– to their friends it seemed that there wasn’t a more perfect match in the world for either of them and when they started dating no one batted an eye. By the time their respective degree programs were drawing to a close they were engaged and Astrid was pregnant with their first child— leaving behind the sprawling city for the suburbs of San Diego where they hoped to raise their family in an environment that would be well suited to anything their children might want to do with their lives.

In the end it would be the third Blum child who developed such an intense fascination with the ocean that Astrid and Gabriel made it a point to allow him to pursue any and all water based activities he wanted as he grew up and proved to be precocious and headstrong and passionate in all the same ways his parents were and then some. Levi, ultimately the only son the Blum’s would have out of their four children, was borderline obsessed with visiting the seaside whenever he could– begging his parents to take them on weekend trips as often as possible and, when he was seven, begging his uncle to teach him how to surf– something he’d wanted to do since he was a small child. Everything in his life seemed to click when he was on the water and Levi quickly developed a love for surfing that, to hear his family tell it, was matched only by the natural talent he seemed to possess for the sport. He spent endless hours surfing in La Jolla with his friends as he got older and though he was an equally gifted student he’d made it clear to his parents that surfing was all he wanted to do with his life and by the time he was fourteen he was competing in tournaments all over the world with his parents wholehearted support.

Levi finished school online to earn his GED at the age of sixteen and from that moment on threw all of his attention into competing– he racked up sponsors, magazine covers, and even at the junior level was expected to be a credit to the sport all around when he finally made it to the majors to surf with people he’d admired since he was a small child. It was only after a long conversation with his parents that he considered pursuing anything resembling a college degree after he’d been gifted a camera to honor his first tournament in the pros when he aged out of the juniors bracket. He wasn’t wholly convinced he could manage a full degree almost entirely remotely but after considerable conversation with professors in schools in California he’d considered attending, he enrolled at USC with the intention of earning his degree in photography while he continued to compete professionally. It was difficult on his best days but when he walked the stage to graduate four years later with a degree in something he was just as passionate about as surfing, well, Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever done anything in the world that made him prouder.

As the years passed Levi’s skill and passion for his career in surfing earned him a small handful of victories in major tournaments and even more in major opens and it seemed to him that nothing in his life could ever be better– at least until he blew out his knee in a tournament and found a season ending injury staring him in the face. It was devastating to him in more ways than he could count and rather than return to his home in San Diego he made the decision to seek out a place to live in Providence Peak at the behest of his cousin who had lived there for several years. There was no surfing to be done there but Levi hoped it would make it easier for him to focus on his rehab if there was nothing for him to do to exacerbate his injury– since his move to Providence Peak he has had surgery and is recovering from his injury, working as a photographer to keep himself busy in the mean time. It wasn’t the worst spot he’d ever found himself in but with months of recovery staring him in the face he still found his thoughts drifting towards the ocean and the sport he can’t wait to return to.

#providence.intro #「 levi — general 」 » levi blum.

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rcncgaades · 3 years

Photo

↪ brief introduction to prudence eaton.

BASICS

full name: prudence camryn eaton. nickname(s): prue, percy ( vastly preferred ). age: twenty-eight. date of birth: 19 october 1992. zodiac sign: libra. place of birth: blackpool, lancashire, england, united kingdom. ethnicity: white. nationality: british. gender: cis female. sexual orientation: homosexual. romantic orientation: homoromantic. religion: she was raised in a protestant household but her family was never all that tied to actively practicing religion and it was never something percy considered all that important to her day-to-day life. as an adult she’s definitely more agnostic leaning than anything. education: bachelors of science in zoology ( university of derby ), masters in biodiversity, evolution & conservation ( university college london ), dphil in zoology ( university of oxford ). occupation: research zoologist & wildlife photographer. language(s) spoken: english ( primarily ), french, german, russian, polish ( learned to the point of being able to carry on conversations during research projects across continental europe ). accent: she has a thick and immediately apparent northern english accent. she hasn’t lived in the united states for a significant period of time and it doesn’t take anyone more than a word or two to realize percy isn’t american.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: amelia eve. hair color: blonde ( she dyes it brown on occasion but for the most part it’s blonde ). eye color: green. height: 5′3″. weight: 120 lbs. build: slim, athletic. tattoos: an intricate tattoo of a lion on her back ( here ), a half sleeve flower themed tattoo on her left arm ( here ), a small tattoo on the inside of her right bicep of the sun rising/falling over the ocean inspired by a drawing her baby brother gave her when they were children ( here ). piercings: she has traditional ear piercings in her firsts and seconds, she has a nose ring in her left nostril; she had an eyebrow piercing for a long while but took it out when she began guest lecturing and occasionally teaching in earnest– it’s healed up since then. distinguishing characteristics: her accent, how bright and warm she is, her tattoos & piercings, how smart she is ( or so she’s been told by many, many people after speaking to them for all of five minutes ).

PERSONALITY

label: the adventurer. positive traits: adventurous, articulate, brilliant, charismatic, charming, compassionate, considerate, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, forgiving, genuine, hardworking, intuitive, loyal, passionate, sociable, sweet, warm. negative traits: ambitious, competitive, proud, sarcastic, stubborn. assertive, boisterous, excitable, haughty, obsessive, possessive, silly, superstitious. goals/desires: to make a positive impact on her community, to live a better life as an adult than she did as a child, to spend the rest of her life doing things she loves, to fall happily in love. fears: failure, proving to everyone where she grew up that she’s just as useless as they’d always claimed, disappointing her little brother, never seeing either of her brothers again, becoming anything like the worst parts of her parents. hobbies: spending time with her family, smoking ( both weed and tobacco cigarettes ), cooking, baking, gardening when she has the time to do it and the weather’s right for it, hiking, reading, doing research of almost any kind, spending time with her friends, going out– drinking, dancing, anything that lets her be social, watching nature documentaries, listening to podcasts, playing video games, learning new things, knitting, sex. quirks: she talks with her hands extensively, she self-corrects out loud if she uses british slang for something rather than the american equivalent, she rarely raises her voice for any reason at all, she can rattle off her favorite animals and fun facts about them at any given moment with no preparation whatsoever, she almost always has some pop song or another stuck in her head and can be heard humming it until she remembers the words. likes: animals of all kinds, mystery novels, nature documentaries, david attenborough, expensive liquor, pot brownies, baked goods of almost every kind, horror movies, music, flowers, being around people, sex, flirting, star wars, most marvel movies, rpg based video games, podcasts, true crime documentaries, her little brother, being a chef, learning anything new, talking to people about things they’re passionate about, her adopted parents & family. dislikes: her older brother, her childhood, people who don’t respect her & the hard work that’s gone into getting her to where she is in life, dark chocolate, milk, toxic people, accidentally killing plants, being alone for long periods of time, boredom, people who pick fights just to pick fights, bigots.

FAMILY

father: simon james ‘sj’ garrick ( biological ). mark william eaton ( adopted ). mother: claire ophelia ashby ( biological ). rose katherine eaton née prescott ( adopted ). sibling(s): jack charles garrick ( older ) & thomas rupert eaton ( younger ). michael andrew eaton ( older, adopted ). pet(s): a bernese mountain dog named jason & an australian cattle dog named piper. financial status: upper middle class.

BIOGRAPHY

( TW: teenage pregnancy, infidelity, drug use, overdose )

By all accounts— by every metric Percy could use to quantify the fact as an adult— Simon Garrick and Claire Ashby had never been ready to be parents. Was anyone ever really ready to be a parent? It was a question Percy had asked herself constantly as she’d gotten older but it had never been her place to judge– her parents hadn’t done her any favors but for at least some time they had tried to be present and helpful and Percy could never fault them for that. Blackpool– a seaside resort town on the English coast– had been home to Simon and Claire as long as they both could remember but they had remained strangers to one another until they met through a mutual friend when they were seventeen years old. The attraction had been immediate– a spark neither of them were prepared to deal with but allowed to catch and ignite the moment they met, an encounter that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy and a great deal of responsibility neither of them wanted staring them both in the face. Simon dropped out of sixth form promptly to begin working in earnest and provide for the family he certainly hadn’t expected to have but was willing to work to support nonetheless; Claire, after informing her parents, remained in school at her parents’ request though their relationship became strained from that moment on.

When Jack was born the couple was delighted— Simon took to being a father rather quickly and seemed to enjoy it while Claire was an absent mother at best in spite of Simon’s many attempts to help her feel more present in their son’s life. It was no secret to anyone at all that Claire was cheating on Simon with what was rumored to be every eligible man in Blackpool and though Simon was heartbroken by the rumors and the confidence he felt in their truthfulness– he never brought the issue up with Claire– choosing instead to look after their son and try to hold their family together as best he could. It was yet another accident that marked Claire’s second pregnancy when Jack was five and though Simon wasn’t even reasonably confident that the child was his he again prepared himself to be a father as best he possibly could. Percy was born on a cool October morning and from the moment she uttered her first cry her father was devoted to her and for the first time her mother dove headfirst into caring for both of her children with a zeal she’d never demonstrated prior.

Though they were on the poorer side they were happy for a great deal of Percy’s initial childhood and seemed to be primed to be that much happier when Claire found out she was pregnant with her third child when Percy was seven. It was yet more of the same in the Garrick-Ashby household until Tommy was around two and Claire eloped with a family friend and informed Simon plainly that she couldn’t handle being stuck in a dead end town with a dead end life and three children she hadn’t wanted in the first place. Simon was devastated but for the first year or two following Claire’s departure he managed to hold both himself and the family together rather well. Percy– already a brilliant girl intellectually and a spot of sunshine in the world as far as her father was concerned– began to help around the house to take some of the worry away from her father even going so far as to look after her baby brother whenever she wasn’t at school. Jack, who was sixteen, more or less stopped coming home and though Percy was aware he was essentially living with a friend’s across town she considered his absence in her life nothing short of abandonment and even as an adult holds a deep resentment towards him for that fact.

Things for the Garrick family began to unravel slowly— Simon began to spend what money he earned from work on cocaine and other drugs– he was still present and still loving but Percy found herself more and more becoming a parent to Tommy rather than a sister. When she was twelve Simon’s habits escalated to a rather expensive heroin addiction that Percy could hardly process, let alone deal with and though she tried her best to raise her brother and herself it was difficult for a child to raise another child. She was nearly thirteen when she came home from school with Tommy in tow to find their father had overdosed in their kitchen— an overdose that would, even after her frantic call to emergency services, eventually lead to his death. Without extended family to look after them and with Jack’s refusal to take on the responsibility of raising siblings he hardly knew both Percy and Tommy became wards of court.

Percy– already with a reputation for being a brilliant student– threw herself into her studies with that much more zeal as she and Tommy adjusted to life with their first foster family; her IQ was tested and she was placed into progressively more advanced courses until she was taking university classes part-time by the time she entered year eleven. Her foster parents supported her fully and there was frequent talk of adoption for both herself and Tommy— who was easily the most important person in her life bar none. She was very nearly eighteen by the time the adoption paperwork was processed and both she and Tommy were officially members of the Eaton family. Though she was reluctant to leave Tommy behind when she’d been his primary caregiver for so many years prior to being placed with their adoptive family it was the encouragement of her adoptive parents Mark and Rose that finally reassured Percy to the point of feeling comfortable applying to universities about as far away from Blackpool as she could get without leaving the country. Higher education was a world of splendor for Percy who had always been so fiercely curious and sharply intelligent– she finished her undergraduate degree six months earlier than most of his graduating class before moving on to study further.

Animals and zoology had been passions of hers from the moment she visited a zoo for the first time on an outing with her parents when she was still very young. She was fascinated by animals of all sorts and wanted to know everything about how to care for them and preserve the environments they called home. It seemed the logical choice for her to follow her chosen course of study as far as she could-- and when she was twenty-six she walked away from Cambridge with a degree in zoology to her name and several research positions made available to her over the whole of continental Europe and beyond if she chose to take them. Traveling across Europe to do the thing she loved more than anything in the world was a gift Percy had never had any inkling of taking advantage of and she eventually began to give guest lectures at universities in major cities near her work sites as well as develop a passion for photography she found delightful to explore when she was researching in far away countries she’d never imagined even seeing as a child. When her research positions drew closer to their deadlines and the projects she’d been working on were finalized she began to search for another place to call home-- eventually settling on Turtle Bay due largely in part to the fact that Tommy had found his way to the area for college and Percy couldn’t think of anything more delightful than doing work she loved with her little brother at her side-- even if the work is a bit more sporadic than she’d like-- she’s always been able to look on the bright side of things and she doesn’t see that changing.

#「 percy — general 」 » prudence eaton.#intro.

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 12

Warnings: none

Tagging: @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Preparing to leave the house with five kids in tow is a full-time job all in itself. Bathing them after a long and active day at school, getting them dressed –which includes incessant bitching and moaning about the textures of clothes and how the tags are ‘too itchy’, having to actually put on socks and shoes-, and giving them the usual list of warnings before even stepping out the front door. No arguing, no fighting, and no bad language. And by the time you manage to get to the front door, at least two have to go to the bathroom and another wants to change what they’re wearing. This time it’s Millie; her self-described princess dress suddenly not ‘princessy enough’. Opting for one with more frills and more sparkles and way too much pink, then insisting on topping the look off with her well-worn light up Spiderman sandals. Tyler had long ago learned to pick his battles, especially as a girl dad. Was suggesting nicer shoes really worth the epic diva style meltdown he’d have to endure? Especially when he’d rather be in flip flops or even bare foot himself?

“I honestly do not care,” he says, when she holds aloft the sandals with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Other parents would force their kids to comply; embarrassed by the mismatched lock. But he’s gotten so used to carting around boys dressed in superhero costumes –masks and all- that the stares and whispers of strangers don’t both him anymore. And fighting over shoes with a soon to be six-year-old is not the hill he wants to die on. “Do what you want.”

For a brief moment –as he buckles the three oldest into the their car seats in the very back of their second, and much larger, vehicle, he muses about just how different his was now is compared to the one that he used to live. When he was drunk off of his practically twenty-four seven, numbing the pain, guilt, and grief with a potent combination of booze and pain meds. Back in that little shack of his in the Outback, with nothing but a dog and a chicken to keep him company. When he was totally committed to the job and spending his days fighting to keep himself –and quite often someone else- alive in dangerous situations. When he was battered and bloody and sometimes on the brink of death. Now he’s proficient in changing diapers, fixing bottles, and making and packing school lunches. A far cry from the old days. And for a brief moment, the thought makes him feels sad; that his existence is nothing more than a mere shadow of what it used to be. That he’s gone from one extreme to the other. And it shouldn’t; he’d made the conscious decision to give it all up. For his family. So he’d be able to hold his marriage together.

And the sadness is replaced with guilt; that he’d miss the job while getting the opportunity to even have kids and watch them grow. A lot of guys in the job weren’t so lucky; they either never turned alive to their wives and kids, or their marriages completely disintegrated, and they never saw their children again. That’s his worst nightmare; things falling apart and either rarely getting to spend time with them, or not being able to see them at all. Being a dad has given him something to take pride in; raising tiny humans that will hopefully one day grow up to be amazing big humans. Decent adults with compassion and humility. Fiercely independent. Alarmingly intelligent. And it’s given him a chance to finally do it right. He’d been an epic failure as a father with Austin; he’d been cowardly and selfish and would never truly forgive himself for it. But he’d been given another chance; entrusted with helping bring five beautiful lives into the world. And he’s determined not to fuck that up.

“I don’t wanna wear shoes!” TJ laments, and proceeds to use his toes to push his sneakers off one heel, then the other, letting the offending items fall to the floor of the SUV.

“Listen, mate. We’re not going to fight about this. If your mum says you wear shoes, you wear the shoes.”

“This is crap!” Tanner chimes in. “My feet are so hot! Like they’re gonna catch on fire!”

“No one’s feet are going to catch on fire,” Tyler assures him. “You’re wearing the thinnest socks possible. We get there, the shoes go back on. And how come you guys don’t have to wear normal pants?” They’re clad in matching tan cargo shorts; one in a green and white stripped golf shirt, the other in blue and white. Always insisting on matching in some way, despite the fact their parents have purposely dressing them differently from day one.

“’Cause we’re only five!” Tanner huffs, as if he’s just been subjected to the dumbest question that’s ever been asked in the history of mankind.

“By the way,” Tyler says, as he finishes buckling Tanner into his seat. “I want my fifteen bucks back that you scammed me out of the other night.”

“I got that money fair and square,” his son argues. “I got you the info just like you asked.”

“Your mom gave me the info. Which technically means half of the money should go to her.”

“It’s not my fault that you fell for it, daddy. You should be smarter than that. You got totally played by a five-year-old.”

“He’s not wrong,” Esme says as she appears alongside of him, clutching Declan by the hand, the baby resting along her forearm. “You did fall for it.”

“You’re in on this together, aren’t you? You probably put him up to it. You’ve been teaching him some of the tricks of the trade. Getting him ready to follow in your footsteps. I bet he even split the money with you.”

“Please just put the kids in the car before we’re really late,” she implores, then stands on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. Which in turns prompts loud and dramatic gagging from all three of the older kids.

“Don’t do that!” TJ cries. “We don’t need any more babies in the house! Why can’t we have a puppy for a change? I don’t want any more sisters!”

“Well I don’t want any more brothers either,” Millie retorts, and sticks her tongue at him.

“Okay, don’t start.” Esme warns. “At least wait until we’re out of the driveway. And besides, it takes a lot more than that to get a baby brother or sister.”

“Like what?” Millie inquires.”

“Like none of your business,” Tyler replies as he tends to Declan, scooping him of the ground and settling him into his car seat. “Besides, there won’t be any more brothers or sisters. It’s not possible.”

“Can we get a dog then?” Tanner asks

“We already have a dog,” his mother reminds him.

“Let’s get another one!” Millie enthuses. “A puppy!”

“I have enough mouths to feed and barely any sanity left.” Esme says, and passes the baby to her husband, who arches a brow and stares at her pointedly over the dog comment. “Not you too!”

“It’s not a bad idea. We’ve got the room. Inside and outside.”

“Please don’t encourage them. They won’t stop talking about it now. They’re going to ask a million times a day about getting a puppy and I don’t think my mental well-being can take it.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he says, then kisses her and shit the SUV door.

“Oh, you think so do you,” she grins, then runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; smoothing out the wrinkles in his simple white dress shirt., the first three buttons undone and no tie; paired with dark washed jeans that fit ‘just right’. Beard still full but neatly trimmed, the product in his hair giving it that unruly ‘bed head’ look. “You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” he chides, and then places a hand on her hip and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he praises, as his hand slides up the middle of her back. The dress is simple and modest; emerald green and off the shoulder, flaring out at the waist and just skimming the bottom of her knees.

She’s still self-conscious about her post-baby body; she’d on twenty-five pounds and had damaged to drop fifteen of them seemingly overnight after Addie was born. She hates the extra weight that clings to her hips and gathers at her waist; despises the stretch marks that mar her skin. Yet to him they just make her even more beautiful; the signs left behind that she’s given him children. There’s no woman in the world that could ever hold a candle to her. It stretches far beyond physical appearance. It’s her strength and her tenacity and the loyalty that that she’s always shown towards him and their kids. And it’s the way she looks at him; as if he’s the most incredible man on the planet even though there’s times he’s shown he’s anything but.

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. Even after six and a half years of marriage she’s still not used to his random compliments. Mark had all but destroyed every ounce of self-esteem she’d ever had, so Tyler had taken it upon himself to help rebuilt it every chance he got. Whether it’s when she’d dressed up with her done and make up on, or when she’s worn down from lack sleep and her hair is messy and she’s still in her pajamas with baby puke stains on them.

“I’m serious,” he says, as his hand slides down to the small of her back and his lips find hers; soft, slow, simple kiss. “You look incredible.”

She smiles. A genuine, glowing smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle and dance. And with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tip toes once again and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then lays her hand against the side of his face and runs the end of pad of her thumb over his lips, her eyes never leaving his.

It’s the sincerest ‘thank you’ he’s ever received.

****

Nik and Kyle have a room at Sovreign Resort Hotel, and they’ve arranged to meet on the outdoor patio belonging to the in-house restaurant. It’s better for the kids; no cooping them up in a crowded, busy room and expecting them to sit still and keep quiet. Being outside gives them a chance to breathe; away from the hustle and bustle and all the judgmental stares and comments if they dare step out of line. There are gardens and fishponds to investigate when they get bored or agitated and need some time to decompress, and room for a high chair for Declan and Addie’s stroller, giving her a comfortable and safe place to retreat to while the others eat and converse.

“Now I know why we don’t go out more often,” Esme comments, as she notices the curious looks and hears the comments tossed their way. A fairly young couple with so many kids, all close together in age. Most find it cute; drawn to the twins in their complimenting outfits and Millie in her princess dress, but there’s the bitchy people as well. The ‘children should be seen and not heard’ crowd that find it ridiculous –and maybe even disgusting- that people are willingly having such large families in this day and age. “People are staring at us,” she frets. “And whispering.”

Tyler moves Declan from one hip to the other, than lays a hand on the back of her neck and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Want me to tell them that I have weak pull out game? Lighten the mood?”

“I’d laugh but I wouldn’t but it past you do actually do something like that. Seriously, what is everyone’s issue?”

“Who gives a shit. Just ignore it. Maybe it bothers them because it’s obvious by all the kids that we’ve had more sex in five years than they’ve had in fifty.”

Normally it would aggravate him, that kind of attention and all the talk. But he’d taken half a dozen Ativan before getting out of the car and the effects are already starting to take hold. He’s relaxed. The calmest he’s been in the past four days. Although he’s pretty sure having to be in Nik’s presence and enduring her version of ‘small talk’ will change that.

Nik and Kyle have already arrived; sitting side by side at a large table near the edge of the patio, leaning into one another, foreheads nearly touching as they talk, their hands joined on top of the table.

“I’m going to be sick,” Esme mutters. “Ughhhh. The way she’s looking at him. He’s way too good for her. Let’s just leave. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. If we just sneak out now...”

Kyle has spotted them and is already on his feet and making his way towards them; the kids so focused on their surroundings that they’re completely unsuspecting until he’s within five feet, noisily clearing his throat to grab their attention.

“Uncle Kyle!” Millie cries, and is the first to break away, the soles of those old sandals flapping against the concreate patio as she rushes to where he’s already crouched down, arms outstretched, gathering her into them and pulling her tight against him.

The twins follow suit; shrieking his name as they run towards him, finding themselves enveloped by his strong arms and gathered into a bear hug along with their sister. Tears sparkling in Kyle’s eyes as he showers them with kisses and tousles their hair and listens to their excited ramblings; all three talking at the same time, filling him in on all the excitement and adventures they’ve experienced in the past six months. And Tyler notices that Nik doesn’t budge from the table, sipping at a glass of wine and never acknowledging the scene playing out in front of her.

“Wish me luck,” Esme sighs, and he gives a reassuring before taken Declan from him, carrying him on her hip and pushing the baby in the stroller as she herds the other three towards the table to get them settled.

He watches as the two women exchange tight lipped smiles; Esme’s one of lingering bitterness and anger, Nik’s filled with a hint of remorse and maybe even regret. And how his wife holds it together despite wanting to completely unleash on her old friend; instead patiently getting the kids settled and Declan strapped into a highchair. He knows it’s difficult for her; his ‘history’ with Nik still the elephant that lingers in the room, the other issues that she’s caused over the past six and a half years adding insult to injury.

“Good to see you, man,” Kyle gives him an awkward one-armed hug and then claps him on the shoulder. “What the has she been feeding you? You’re a fucking tank.”

“Just a lot of hours in the gym. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Things are good with you?”

Their relationship has been strained; not just because of the thousands of miles between them and Kyle holding him responsible for yet again ‘stealing’ his sister, but the ongoing hostility with Nik. The last time they’d talked, Tyler hadn’t been kind; letting her know to stay the hell away from him, to never contact him again. He’d been harsh. He’s the first one to admit that. But it had worked. At least until now.

“Things are good,” Kyle says, and then glances over his shoulder at Nik, a smile curving his lips. “Things are really good. What about here? You guys are doing alright? The kids seem happier.”

“We’re all happier. It was the right thing to do. Coming back here.”

“She’s struggling though,” Kyle nods in the direction of his sister. “Don’t even try and tell me she’s not.”

“She’d be struggling a lot less if you have just listened and kept Nik away. It wasn’t enough you’re marrying her considering everything in the past? You had to make things worse by bringing her here?”

“We hadn’t heard from you guys yet. About the wedding.”

“And that means you come all the way here and fuck things up? You have a phone. You've got the internet. Send an email. Don’t just show up. We’re still trying to get past all of this. Nik and her shit, the job.”

"It was her idea. Nik’s. To come here and try and make things. Patch things up. I told her that I didn’t know if either you or Esme were ready for that that yet, but....”

He frowns. “It was her idea?”

Kyle nods. “She wanted to make amends. In person.”

“She told you that? That that’s why we wanted to come here?”

You poor delusional bastard, Tyler thinks. Kyle’s being played and manipulated in the say way she’d messed with him. Nik always has an ulterior motive. And Kyle is either blind to it, doesn’t give a shit, or genuinely doesn’t realize what she’s capable of.

He decides it’s the latter.

“We want you guys at the wedding,” Kyle says. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and Esme, we never would have met.”

He feels as if he should apologize in advance. Because six months from now, Kyle’s going to realize just what kind of shit show he’s gotten himself into. “

“And we want the kids there,” Kyle continues. “Millie could be the flower girl, the twins could be junior ushers, Declan could carry the ring up. We want it to be a family affair.

The last thing Tyler wants it to be stuck anywhere with Esme’s family. He doesn’t give a shit about their feelings towards him. If they want to spend the rest of their lives hating him and viewing him as the enemy, so be it. But the way they’ve treated her.... his wife...is unacceptable. And the worst place to air those grievances is at the wedding of the only member of that clan he can actually stand.

“Won’t be the same without all of you,” Kyle says. “I mean, we’re family.”

Tyler wouldn’t go that far. You usually don’t become family with someone you used to casually fuck,

“This is a big deal for her,” his brother in law continues. “Wanting to come here. Wanting to make things right.”

“And you really think that’s why she wanted to come here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She hasn’t given me a reason not to believe her. Why?” his eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you know Nik as well as you think you do,” Tyler says, then gives him a sympathetic pat on shoulder before heading for the table.

****

“You’re here to take daddy away, aren’t you.” Millie voice is accusatory and full of venom; eyes narrowed as she regards Nik from across the table.

Dinner is long finished; all dirty dishes and cutlery cleared away in favor of tea and coffee for the adults and ice cream for the kids. His daughter has been glued to his side all night, Nik bringing out the clingy and protective side of her. Nearly causing a fight with Tanner when he initially wouldn’t give up the seat to Tyler’s right. Then climbing up into his lap as soon as the meal was finished; sitting sideways on his thighs, an arm curled tightly around his neck.

Esme shifts uncomfortably beside him, then noisily clears her throat and reaches for a glass of ice water. He takes her hand, squeezing it tightly before placing their joined hands on her thigh.

“No one is taking anyone away,” he assures his daughter.

“That's what you said last time,” Millie reminds him. “And then you were gone forever.”

“Well this time is different. I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Kyle just came to see you guys. So she tagged along. Nothing more than that.”

“She is your Aunt,” Kyle speaks up. “It’s okay if you guys call her that even if certain people don’t want to acknowledge it or accept it.”

Esme clears her throat once more, hand tightening around Tyler’s.

Millie isn’t convinced. “If I wake up tomorrow and my daddy's gone, I’m going to be really pissed!”

“Okay, calm down,” Tyler presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. So just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Millie turns to face him, then kneels on his laps as she leans in close and whispers. “I don’t trust her, daddy.”

“It’s a long way to come,” Esme pipes up. “Just because you missed the kids. Web cam chats do exist, you know.”

“It’s not the same,” Kyle says. “And things are slow right now for Nik and I had some vacation time owe to me, so...well...here we are.”

“Yeah,” Esme gives a tense smile. “Here you guys are.”

Tyler moves Mille over to his other thigh, then let’s go his wife’s hand in favor of laying his arm across the back of her chair, thumb repeatedly brushing against her shoulder.

“We thought it was time to smooth things out,” Kyle explains. “Before the wedding. So things aren’t tense that day like they are now. I mean, it’s been six months. Time to let it go, don’t you think.”

“I think you’re underestimating what the nearly six years before were like,” his sister calmly responds. “Or am I just supposed to pretend they never happened? That she...sorry.... you...” she looks over at Nik. “...never pulled all the bullshit you did?”

“Mommy.” Tanner looks up from his ice cream. “That’s a bad word. Daddy said no bad words tonight.”

“You’re right,” she says, and then gives her son a smile and wraps an arm around him, drawing him tight against her. “Bad mommy,” she scolds herself, and then runs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss to his cheek.

“No one is saying that you have to forget about all of that or pretend it never happened.” Kyle informs her. “But wouldn’t you rather iron things out so you’re carrying around so much animosity?”

“Oh, that’s rich, K. Maybe you should be addressing your future wife’s animosity. And how she was so pissed at Tyler and I that she was willing to leave us both on a bridge in Dhaka to die.”

“Okay...no one needs to hear about this,” Tyler says, and rubs her shoulder. “Especially little ears.”

“I’ve already apologized for that,” Nik finally speaks. “Countless times. But things didn’t exactly happen the way you think they did.”

Esme snorts. “Spare me, Nik. Yaz told me all I needed to know. So don’t waste your breath lying to me. Dhaka was a total crap show and you just went ahead and made it even worse.”

“Alright, settle down,” Tyler implores, and then leans sideways to press a kiss to her temple, lips settling against her ear. “The kids do not need to hear this. Any of this. Okay? Can you stop? For me? Please?”

She reluctantly nods.

“It was Nik’s idea to come here,” Kyle says. “She wanted to patch things up. With both of you. So we could be part of the kids’ lives. They deserve to have family. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of what’s best for them?”

“Whoa...whoa...” Tyler comes to his wife’s defense. “...that’s way out of line, mate. Don't use her kids against her. Don’t ever accuse of not doing what’s for her kids. Our kids. Don’t stoop that low or you are I are going to have problems.”

“I’m just saying that...”

“I know what you’re saying. But find another way to say. Because I won’t let you disrespect the mother of my children like that.”

Nik gives a dramatic sigh. “Obviously the two of you are still holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger and this was a total waste of our time.”

“We’re holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger?” Esme retorts, then laughs. “Says the woman who couldn’t handle that her with friend with benefits met someone and decided to move on with his life. The same woman who was so mad about it that she spent six years trying to get my husband to cheat on me? Or are you going to pretend none of that ever happened?”

“And I’ve apologized for that, Esme. But you’re just so childish and petty that you can't let it go.”

‘Well I’m sorry, Nik. Maybe I’m not comfortable with my husband’s old side piece becoming my sister in law.”

“There’s kids here,” Tyler reminds them both. “They don’t need to hear this. Either settle down or just drop it.”

Esme glares at him. “And suddenly you’re on her side?”

“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. But I’m also on the side of my kids not having to hear this stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve heard a lot worse,” Nik snidely remarks. “With you as their father.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what he’s like. The mouth on him. I’m just saying that I’m sure the kids have heard a lot worse than what we’re talking about.”

“How about you just leave my kids out of this,” Esme suggests. “Or is that the real issue? That they’re my kids...with him...and not yours.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle moans. “Not this again.”

“That’s what really pissed off six and a half years ago, wasn’t it, Nik. The fact that you wanted more than just the dick and he wouldn’t give it to you. It just pissed you off when he met me and all of sudden he was getting married, having kids, enjoying a normal life. That’s what really bugged you. What still bugs you.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Tyler asks. “Do you really think the kids need to know this kind of shit?”

Esme ignores him. “Why don’t you tell Kyle the real reason you’re here, Nik. And don’t lie and say it was to repair things between us. Tell the truth for once. Tell him you’re here to screw things up all over again.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about this now,” Nik says. “This was supposed to be about coming together and sitting down and ironing things out. To patch things up and see the kids and...”

“I think we should call it a night,” Tyler suggests. “It’s getting late and the kids are tired and have school tomorrow.”

“No,” Esme responds. “We’re not leaving. She’s going to come clear to my brother about what she’s really here for. How she used our kids as an excuse to come here. Tell him, Nik. Tell him exactly what you came all this way for.”

“Esme,” Tyler warns. “...not here...please.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kyle. It isn’t for my husband’s dick. For once. It’s all business, isn’t it, Nik. It’s all about the job. And you trying to manipulate Tyler into helping you.”

“Would you stop,” Tyler tightly squeezes her shoulder. “Enough. Stop Not here. Not now. And not in front of the kids.”

“Nik wants to hire Ovi to be a mercenary,” Esme announces. “Ovi. Of all goddamn people.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tyler orders. “If you two wants to hash it out or kick the crap out of each other, go do it somewhere else. Just not in front of my kids.”

“You’d think she’d have more comment sense than that because of everything Ovi went through in Dhaka,” Esme continues. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering we wanted us to leave him in the street like a piece of trash. She probably wanted Tyler to leave me there too. Because I was the obstacle in the way or getting what she really wanted.”

“Is this true?” Kyle address Nik. “That’s why you really wanted to come here? To hire Ovi?”

“Oh, not just that,” Esme informs him. “She wants Tyler’s help. She wants him to train Ovi before she sends him off to be killed. She probably wants more than that. She always has.”

“Okay, we’re going.” Tyler tightens his hold on Millie and stands up. “Enough. I’ve had enough. I said not to do this, and you did it anyway. Let’s go.”

“I want to know if any of this is true,” Kyle says. “If that’s the real reason we ended up here. Is it?” he looks back at Nik. “IT had nothing do with fixing things, did it. It was all bullshit. Just to get something you want.”

“That’s Nik’s M.O,” Esme smirks. “That’s all she ever cares about. Getting what she wants. And trying to destroy anyone that stands in her way.”

“Why would you do this?” Nik hisses. “Stoop this low?”

“Now you know how it feels,” Esme give a victorious smile as she stands up. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Having some bitch trying to fuck your life up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler snarls. “Let’s just go. Enough. You’ve said enough.”

“Oh, I have more tons more I could say.”

“Well another time, another place. We’re leaving. Now.” His tone is demanding. Authoritative. But his face remains calm as he gathers up all the kids; Declan on one hip, Millie on the other. “Let’s go guys,” he says to the twins. “Home time.”

“Thank God,” Tanner huffs. “Adult stuff is so boring.”

Kyle hurries after them as they leave, catching Tyler by the arm before he can get out the side entrance of the patio. “I am so fucking sorry. I had no idea what she was up to,” he says, as Esme and the twins –with TJ pushing the baby stroller- continue the walk to the car. “She told me that she wanted to come here and fix things. And so I could see the kids. I had no clue she had an ulterior motive.”

“That’s one thing about Nik. She always has an ulterior motive. I’m sorry, too. That you had to find out that way. Esme should have just kept her mouth shut. For tonight at least. I tried, but...” Tyler shrugs. “...she doesn’t always listen to me.”

“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Kyle gives a dry laugh. You guys going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine. She’ll get home and go off on me for a bit and then she’ll calm down. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m used to it after six and a half years. Good luck with Nik, though. You’re going to need it.”

Kyle frowns and runs a hand over the back of his head. “That bad, huh?”

“Mate, you have idea. If she boots you out and you need a place to crash, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah, don’t be surprised if you come out in the morning and find me drunk and passed out on the beach.”

Tyler smirks. “There’s been times I wished I was loaded and passed out on the beach, believe me. I am sorry. That your sister went off like that. But you were going to find out sooner or later.”

“Better sooner if you ask me.” Kyle says. “Tell her I’m sorry. That you’re dragged back into this shit. Into that life. Esme deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “She does.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #extraction #chris hemsworth character

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