#i know from being my grandfather's caretaker in his last month how it can be easier once someone has gone

[secret-kpoplibrary]

Inspiring Romance Pt. 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Plus-sized Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None :))

Genre: Fluff I guess??

Summary: You spent years happily taking care of an old man who surprisingly leaves you a huge gift when he passes. To your surprise, this gift has brought his grandson to your doorstep. Unfortunately, his grandson is one frustratingly arrogant piece of work and now thanks to his grandfather you're stuck with him for three months. You're sure his grandfather rolling in his grave watching the two of you fight every day and as much as you'd like to get along with him for his grandad's sake- he just makes it so hard to like him that you think you'll strangle him before he leaves this place. There's simply no way this could be worse.

***

You quickly finish cleaning the last table in your section and rush to put on your jacket before you clock out.

"Now where are you rushing off to this time?" Your coworker and friend Joy jokingly asks you.

"I'm rushing off to where I'm always rushing off to. I have to I have to check on Mr. Min." You tell her even though she already knows the answer.

"I don't understand why you take shifts during the day if you worry so much about that old man while you're here." Joy shakes her head.

"Despite it being my job he insists I can't spend all my time doting on him. In fact he demands I 'have a life outside of this old manor'. Even though his family wants him to have help he still prides himself on his independence. He'd have to be bedridden before he let me take care of him around the clock." You scoff.

"I say you use the time for hobbies. They pay you so well you don't need this job. The diner will go on without you, you know." Joy says.

"Even if that's true, for now, I am quite happy here thank you. And I still have time for hobbies you rude bitch." You joke. Joy laughs heartily as you clock out.

"Hey! That language is not appropriate around customers."

"I am officially off the clock so I can say whatever I damn well please. I'll see you Joy."

"Friday!" She yells after you as you push through the diner doors and head out to your car. You make the drive up to the manor you've spent most of the last few years in. It's a gorgeous property on a hill overlooking a beach. There are a few houses a short walk away and while the neighbors are friendly enough most everyone around here seems to prefer keeping to themselves.

"Mr. Min! It's y/n! I'm back from work!" You yell out as you shut the door behind you. Your job as his caretaker means you have a key to his house and he usually expects you to let yourself in and out with how often you come and go. When you don't hear a response from the old man, you make your way to the library where he usually doses off reading in the afternoons. "Mr. Min?" You gently shake him when you find him exactly where you expect him, asleep in his large reading chair with a book in his lap.

"Y/n- oh dear did I dose off?" He mutters.

"You always do Mr. Min. I've told you if you want to nap, please, do it in your bed. This can't be good for your back." You chuckle helping him out of his chair.

"Oh would you relax? My back is fine. I don't nod off on purpose but please remember I'm not a child. You worry too much."

"Mr. Min please remember it is my job to worry about you. I would be a terrible caretaker if I didn't worry. Your granddaughter would probably throw a fit." You chuckle.

"What time is it y/n?"

"It's almost five. I'll have dinner ready soon, I just wanted to find you first." You tell him.

"I'm not rushing you. I never do. You worked a morning shift today at the diner then?"

"I did. They needed me to."

"Good! If you're here all day you'll suffocate me." He jokes.

"Mr. Min if you keep talking like that you might just convince me you don't want me around." You retort as you turn on the stove to make dinner.

"And yet I've told you a dozen times to not speak so formally with me- you refuse, how can you also think I don't want you around?"

"It feels odd calling you by your first name, first of all, I work for you, and secondly you're significantly older than me. It would be like calling my grandfather by first name." You explain.

"I've heard your explanations before, still, you're practically family to me now- Mr. Min does not feel familial." He huffs.

"We'll work on a compromise."

"Hm- how was work?"

"It was fine- interesting things seldom happen on the morning shift. Joy was there."

"Joy- how is she?"

"Annoying as always. So I guess that means she's well." You shrug. Mr. Min laughs, well aware of your friendship with Joy.

"Is she still with that human of hers?"

"Yes Mr. Min. Not everyone wants to date a wolfboy you know."

"I don't understand, she'll have to keep herself a secret from him. That can't be fun."

"Well, it's not like they're getting married. If it ever gets to the point that they're planning to spend the rest of their lives together I'm sure Joy will tell him the truth."

"And that's a better option than just dating a wolf she doesn't have to keep secrets from? Why don't you advise this girl? You're friends aren't you?"

"Yes we're friends but it's certainly not my place to tell her what to do with her love life. Especially with how new I am to the wolf thing myself. If he makes her happy that's all that matters for now. You know, those wolf boys are not always so great I'm sure." 

"I believe for a girl such as yourself, or your dear friend, a wolf with always be a better match."

"Well I'll be sure to pass along your message Mr. Min." You chuckle lightly. Mr. Min has always had very peculiar opinions on dating. It's not that he's a genetic purist but he does often worry about the tendencies of humans to overreact when it comes to things they don't understand. According to Mr. Min, if you must date a human, make it a woman, he believes a woman would be less likely to turn you over to scientists to become a lab rat. You've always wondered why he harbors such strong opinions but whenever you ask he just tells you that history repeats itself if you don't learn the lessons taught by it. You wonder if perhaps someone he knew fell victim to loving the wrong human boy and paid the price for it, but at this point, you're sure he'll never tell you if that's the reason he thinks the way he does.

"Alright Mr. Min, I have to return to my apartment but I will only be gone for a few hours." You tell him after dinner is finished and the kitchen is cleaned up.

"You know you're allowed to go home. I think I can manage to put myself to bed y/n. I will see you in the morning." He tells you.

"Mr. Min-"

"I will hear no disagreements. Go home, I've eaten, the house is clean, I'm not so weak that I can't handle one night on my own. After all, you'd have to live here if I couldn't." Mr. Min laughs at his own joke.

"If you insist-"

"I do actually. Perhaps this will prove to you that I am not some frail husk of a man withering to nothing."

"I never said any of that! Your granddaughter only wants to ensure you are well taken care of in your daughter's absence." You say.

"And you take very good care of me. But I will tell you what I have always told both my daughter and my granddaugter, wolves do not break the way humans do. I am still more capable than the average person my age." Mr. Min grumbles.

"And that is why you are allowed to live in this house alone with minimal assistance. Don't push your luck Mr. Min." You smile at him.

"Minimal being the emphasized word here."

"Fine fine- I will leave you be for the night but I will be back first thing in the morning-"

"Like you always are. I look forward to it, but please enjoy your night. You are too young to be so wrapped up in the affairs of an old man." He waves you off.

"It is my job to be wrapped up in the affairs of this particular old man." You roll your eyes as you throw on your jacket and take your leave with one last shout goodbye. 

When you return to your apartment your roommate is sitting on the couch with a carton of takeout watching some sitcom you don't quite catch the name of. Your roommate Irene works for a marketing firm that keeps her pretty occupied. You shrug off your jacket and take off your shoes before you yell out to her that you're home.

"Oh hey! I wasn't expecting you to come back tonight." She says through a mouth full of lo mein.

"Mr. Min pretty much banished me for the evening." You chuckle.

"What?"

"I told him I had to come back here for something but I'd return in a few hours and he basically demanded I not come back until morning. You know how he gets with those speeches of independence." You shrug.

"You know- I don't understand, if he's so independent, why does he have a caretaker anyway?"

"As independent as he may be he does have some health problems, medications that he takes, that sometimes make it harder for him to handle all the things around his house. He knows it as well as I do but damn if he won't hold on to every shred of independence he's got." You shake your head.

"Doesn't he have any kids?" Irene frowns.

"A daughter who is sick and he's got two grandkids, the granddaughter that hired me and a grandson that he raised as I understand." You muse.

"And where is he?" Irene asks.

"Well I'd guess not even the heavens know at this point." You shrug.

"Wait what?"

"Nobody has heard from him since before his aunt got sick. His cousins have no idea where he is and I don't think Mr. Min cares enough to force him home. I mean- he barely wants me looking after him anyway. There's no reason to pester his flighty grandchild."

"It doesn't seem odd to you? That his grandson never tries to contact him?" Irene asks you.

"Mr. Min is alone for enough of the day that they very well might be in contact and I wouldn't know. Either way none of that is my business. My business is Mr. Min's wellbeing and as long as his grandson is not a deterrent to that he could be hiking Antarctica in shorts."

"Why in shorts-?"

"I am making a point here Irene- just eat your lo mein." You roll your eyes.

"I'm just saying it's weird. Did you want some by the way?" She holds the carton out to you.

"Maybe their relationship isn't good Irene. Who cares? No thanks, I just ate with Mr. Min. Maybe later."

"Okay but who would beef with Mr. Min? You always describe him as like the best old man ever. I can't imagine his grandkid hating him."

"Mr. Min is a very sweet old man as far as I know yeah, in fact he treats me like I'm his grandkid too, but that doesn't mean he's not shitty to his own. I mean he's nice to me sure but maybe that kindness came with age and he wasn't so great when his grandson was around, after all, he didn't sign up for having to raise a second generation but he had to when the kid's parents died. I don't know, and we can speculate all night but we have no way of knowing why his grandson isn't around and quite frankly your nosy ass shouldn't be worried about it. You don't even know the man." You scoff.

"But you do and he's so nice to you- his daughter's family seems to care about him a lot but- he must be so sad without his grandson around. Imagine you take all that time raising one of those crotch goblins and they don't even bother to visit you in their old age. He probably doesn't even know his granddad's got a caregiver." Irene points her chopsticks at you and you sigh.

"Irene- would you like to go with me to see Mr. Min tomorrow? Since you're so concerned with his loneliness, you can see for yourself that he's fine, happy even."

"I'd love to in fact. At least I know he's got you. And if his own grandson won't care, perhaps it's a good thing Mr. Min treats you like his granddaughter."

"Irene do you know something I don't? I know you're opinionated but this seems like a strange topic to harp on." You chuckle.

"It's just- we're wolves! Pack animals. To completely abandon your family- I mean- we don't do that!" Irene huffs.

"Irene, darling, if this has to do with your brother, I'm sure he'll come around. But don't project those concerns onto Mr. Min's family. You don't know these people, maybe his grandson has a perfectly reasonable explanation for not being around."

"Do you even know his name?"

"What?"

"His name. Mr. Min's grandson. Do you know his name?"

"Mr. Min has told me once or twice but I- I can't remember off the top of my head. You can ask him yourself tomorrow when you meet him if you like." You shrug.

"I very well might."

"Irene- do not piss off my charge. Keep your questions polite. I like the old man, I don't fancy seeing him turn angry and bitter." You warn your friend.

"I think he likes you too much to ever really be angry with you." She shrugs. You roll your eyes at her and snatch one of her fortune cookies off of the table. If there's one thing about Irene, she's not easily deterred.

***

Part 1/???

Tagged Users: @schokoshaker

#bts #min yoongi #bts suga #werewolf au #werewolf bts #yoongi x reader #plus sized yn #Inspiring Romance

[hellfiredemon]

15 people, 15 questions

tagged by @cuoredimuschio 💞

are you named after anyone? My English name comes from a Diana Wynne Jones’ character, like a straight up kid's book. My Chinese name is really embarrassing. It comes from a historical figure. My dad came to the US for his education and his father was resentful that he wanted to immigrate here and would not be able to spend as much time with his family in Hong Kong, so when my grandfather chose my name, he named me after a historical figure who was given away to* barbaric foreigners.* I want to change my name to something else but haven’t and only my relatives in HK call me this but I haven’t been back in so long so it doesn’t matter as much.

when was the last time you cried? About a month and a half ago, my friends put down their dog and Facetimed me so I could say goodbye to him.

do you have kids? Nope and can honestly say I’ve never wanted to have them. I understand from an aging standpoint that it makes sense to spawn a caretaker but I don’t think I’d be able to care for another human being like that, I can barely take care of myself and my dog as it is.

what sports do you play/have played? I dance a lot now, but I don’t compete so I don’t think it qualifies as a sport. In school, I did track and field, volleyball, and tennis.

do you use sarcasm? Frequently, but I’m also embarrassingly earnest about many things as well.

what's the first thing you notice about people? Probably how they dress, groom, and carry themselves and whether they seem comfortable to be in public or not.

what's your eye color? Brown

scary movies or happy endings? I don’t really watch horror, but maybe I do prefer scary movies because I like a lot of movies that are a little uncomfortable to watch, where you don’t know what will happen in the end. When it comes to movies, I think I’m ok with having a bittersweet or even unhappy ending, probably because movies tend to be shorter and less immersive for me. I guess I don't need a happy ending for me to enjoy something but the story's gotta be compelling.

any talents? I can whistle through my teeth, am an adept conversationalist IRL, and am good at interviews and general corporate bullshittery, which I think is how I’ve managed to stay employed but do very little work 🤐

where were you born? The US Midwest! But my parents moved a few months after I was born, so I never really lived there.

what are your hobbies? Reading, dancing, calisthenics, drawing, strategy games, playing with my dog, hiking, and admiring art, zoning out, floortime

do you have any pets? Yes, the love of my life and warmer of my cold feet, a 3.5 yr old muppet-ass looking border collie-poodle mix named Charlie. I couldn't figure out how to put a picture between the numbered list so his pic's at the end.

how tall are you? 164 cm 🥞 my mom's side is short 😔

favorite subject in school? English or history. I loved reading books and stories and talking about them, and still do.

dream job? I don't want to work, and don't dream of labor. The closest thing I can think of working for the US govt's Digital Service, which probably sounds crazy but I think at least that way I'd get to use my skills for something useful. I’d be perfectly content to pursue hobbies the rest of my life. I fantasize about moving to a country with universal benefits and not having to worry about the numbers on my paycheck and do something I actually think is good for the world or just work on art or dance full time. I wanted to be a mail carrier for a long while, walk around the city all day and listen to books or music and deliver people’s letters and meds and stuff, but you also have to deliver shitloads of stupid ads and bills as well. I think if I ever save enough money from my dumb corporate jobs that I still might try to work for the USPS. I don't know 15 people, tag yourself if you want to do it!!! And here's my lovely boy!!

#tag game #my life

[jedi-bird]

I made it through yesterday.

(Warning for death mentions and depressive episodes below cut)

I made it through yesterday. I made it through easier than I expected honestly. The days leading up to it were not good. Yesterday, I was busy and had other things to occupy my attention. Today though, not so much.

Yesterday marked seven years since my grandfather died. He was the last of my direct family and the last one who actually cared about me. I didn't get to see him or talk to him for the last four months; a combination of too much work, weird hours, and my family giving me the wrong number for him. I got blamed for everything that happened. I used to be his full time caretaker, while still working a full time job, until I had a nervous breakdown and it became either someone else take care of him or I was probably going to kill myself. At the time he moved away (because care facilities here were more than we could afford and where he went meant that he had most of his family close and visiting daily), he was the healthiest he had been in years despite the repeated strokes. In four months, he'd be dead.

I miss him a lot lately, even though we fought constantly. I was the odd one out in the family. The only one who wasn't fully white, the only one willing to take care of people, the only one who had spent half their life being abused. My grandpa wasn't great, but he tried. He kicked my stepfather out of the house and banned him from ever visiting again (his exact words were I'll burn the house down before you step foot in here again). He took me to rodeos and bought me my first hat. We went to petting zoos and the movie. He taught me to garden, though admittedly it was more what not to do since half his stuff died immediately. We raised chickens together. We used to sing along to the sound of music every year, even after I got my job and spent most of my time trying to catch up on sleep; I'd come home, exhausted and hungry and just needing to be alone for a bit but still stop and sing edelweiss with him (I can still hear his off-key voice whenever I hear the song).

My grandpa was a liar and a jerk and treated my grandma horribly when they were younger. I miss him despite it all.

The year he died, my partner was also in the hospital. They didn't know what was wrong or if he'd make it. I got the call right before going to see him before I had to leave for work. I remember being numb, just not being able to focus or cope. I called my job, begging for the day off because I was afraid to drive and afraid to think and I needed to be with someone who understood. They told my no and said I needed to come in early. So I had to leave the one person who still loved me, who was sick and needed me, to drive almost two hours in traffic to find out I wasn't even necessary that day. I broke down, screaming at my manager in the break area in front of everyone. I was hysterically. They tried to backtrack, telling me they misunderstood and that I could go home. But what was I going home to? Two more hours in traffic to miss visiting hours, to have to go to an empty house full of memories that I couldn't acknowledge yet. I spent most of my shift sobbing in the back areas, no one really knowing how to help me. During all of this too, my family kept threatening to make me homeless. I didn't want to go on.

I don't know how I made it through that time. No one spoke to me for months other than my partner, who did get better eventually. I never got to cope with any of that, or my grandma's or mom's deaths. I just had to keep going.

So I made it through this year. Today is hard but I made it. In a few weeks, it'll be fourteen years since my grandma died, the woman who loved me unconditionally and raised me, and that's going to be hard. I'm afraid that this year, my stepfather will finally find me and I can't deal with that again; he's the reason more than anything that I hate my birthday and just wish it didn't exist. Then I'll be practically alone for the first month of the year and then the numbness will lift for a bit until spring, when I'll have to confront my mother's death again. I've been in therapy for years and it helps but sometimes it's not enough. I know I'll be fine, because I've kept going this long and I can go a bit longer. Each day is a step and breaks are allowed.

But fuck I'm tired right now. I miss the numbness.

[anxietyjedi]

Adult life after experiencing emotional abuse when I was younger has certainly molded me into something vastly different from my expectations in the past. I learned to set boundaries. I learned to cut people out. I learned to apply "maximum firepower" when it came to defending my boundaries when they were being forced upon. The biggest thing that I've done since then is set a zero tolerance policy that was based on one event.

In the months since my trip to California where I had the opportunity to do a lot of reflection it really opened my eyes to a lot of the stuff that went on. If you are not prepared to revisit memories that you would rather have behind you, I do not recommend it. You will have to look back into your memories to get more than just what happened to you, but to behaviors that took place at all times, how the people interacted with one other, and most of all make a determination if it was just against you, or if that is how they are. I had a great-uncle, not to be confused with an uncle who was great but my grandfather's brother, who was a real ass. He came from a different generation, that's for sure. Were they tougher? To some extent maybe. Does that mean they have to be respected? Hell no. He treated his mother, my great grandmother, like crap. As her caretaker he left a lot to be desired, and how he spoke to her to this day boils my blood with white-hot anger. She was a very sweet woman who loved everyone equally, and tragically she had to bury one of her sons (my grandfather) not too longer after I was born because he lost the fight against cancer. When she would comment about how he treated her, he would respond with things "Oh go stand on the corner and suck your thumb, you big baby". Things that no child should ever say to their mother, unless of course she were abusive and I can tell you that she was not. The family knew how he spoke to her, how he treated her, but the best they could do would be discussing it amongst themselves. Well, a day had come when the "adults" were discussing it. Right in front of me no less, me being 16 at the time. I said one thing; "That's messed up". Their response was to sit down, shut up, and stay out of it. Well, that's what I've been doing the last 21 years. Staying out of it. I don't communicate with them regularly, and I know they've discussed it. Every now and then I'll get a little bit of prodding about the situation from my brother who gets along with them fairly well. On the rare occasion my Dad will even ask, odds are because my Mom might have asked because I do not associate with them. There are quite a few of them, but on social media I am "friends" with maybe a handful of them. Not even on there will I talk to them because I have nothing to discuss. Still I am sure that I am some sort of dinner fodder for them to discuss. I am in the hopes it is when they run out of other things to talk about.

So what is the point of this? Is there a point? There is. It's a conversation that I've had in my head more times than I care to admit, but I know that at some point it will come up. I know that one day, under unknown terms, one of them will reach out to talk to me. I don't know if it will be a phone call, a text message, a message of facebook, or whatever other methods, but I know they will reach out because to them family is important (terms and conditions may apply). Anyway, eventually they will reach out and ask me why I don't talk to them or why I don't visit. I'll refer to the conversation that took place right in front of me regarding someone who was my family, and also remind them of what I was told. To sit down, shut up, and to stay out of it. I'll then go a step further and ask "I've stayed out of it, so what's the problem?". I know that is probably not the healthiest mindset to have, but what am I supposed to do? My great grandmother was being abused by my great uncle, and when the topic came up in front me without them saying I shouldn't say anything about some one who was my family too, I said something and was treated like an outsider. Nope, I prefer to keep them way out of range. Not to be confused with me staying out of their range. Now that I am an adult, they can't hurt me. There is nothing they can say to me that would do any more harm because now I can stand up, now I can say something. Now there is nothing they can do to stop me. So why don't I go and just have it out with them? Get it all over with and heal? What good would it do? In their eyes I would just be some single-minded monster, thus proving their conclusions about the kind of person I am to be a true. No, instead I will walk the path of inner peace. I was able to heal doing that.

I won't give them the satisfaction trying to rile me up. I won't give them a chance to try to do as they always do and circle their "prey" like a pack of rabid wolves. Instead I'll just tend to what I need to; my mental and emotional health. From them I learned how not to be, and giving into the want to just "have it out" with them would destroy that. Believe it or not, there is strength in having that kind of restraint. Inner peace brings about strength; it helps you thrive, it helps your survive, and it helps you navigate the woes and worries of the world. May you find peace in the torrential waters, the calm in the storm, and the stony foundation in which to build upon. In other words, may the Force be with you.

#personal #the path of peace

[britneyshakespeare]

not to be “oh you all have to know about my life” w my followers but it looks like my grandmother is finally going to pass away

#she's had an incredibly scary couple of months so in a way it's just sort of a relief #i know from being my grandfather's caretaker in his last month how it can be easier once someone has gone #just because they don't have to suffer anymore. they can pass on to... whatever lies beyond. #if that's dirt or heaven or something in between i don't really know. i don't care to even ponder my opinion on the subject when it comes #to things like this bc the immediate thing that concerns us mortals is how to fill the gap left behind by that person. #what happens after death to the dead themselves is a philosophical question. what happens to the family is a whole different ballpark #and im up next to bat. #she had a good life. she had everything she could've wanted. she really did. #raised 7 beautiful children into adulthood. 19 grandchildren. many great-grands (w only more to come on the way) #all of her children had her into their 50s and 60s. some of her grandchildren had her into their 40s. #as the youngest grandchild im incredibly privileged to have gotten to know her as a grownup and spend time w her at 21. #my dad got a text a couple of hours ago. he went down to their nursing home. he hasn't been allowed since bc of covid but it's hospice care. #that's his mother. he got word she was getting cold. and that was around noontime. i don't even know what's going on now. #i'm kind of hanging by a thread. i almost wonder 'what if this isnt it?' bc she's had so many scares even in the past few weeks. #it sucks. it all sucks. it's necessary and beautiful and fair but it sucks and it makes me wanna cry. my poor little father. #my poor little grandfather. he's been married to this woman since he was 23 and he's 92. #idk i have a lot of feelings. i don't really need to talk about it WITH someone if you're worried about me (if anything it might make it #harder for me to explain everything about her that i wanna get off my chest to someone who didnt know her. but i love you all.) #i just need to say this all here. in the tags as is my usual mode of contemplation. #tales from diana #i talked to my brother on the phone for a second. that was nice. i didn't really have anything to say. #he called mom when she got home from work (well. mom called him but he told her to call him when she could) #i asked if i could speak to jon. i didnt really have anything to say i just wanted to hear his voice and tell him i love him. #i kind of forgot to when she handed the phone over. i said 'hi jon.' 'hi.' and then there was a silence over the phone bc i was thinking #and he said i love you and i was like 'oh yeah i love you too.' 'how are you?' 'oh... you know. same as you.' #and he laughed the saddest little laugh and said 'yeah.' cuz that's his grammy too. i love my brothers. i hope theyre okay #i gotta check on dan. i also can't wait for kaily to come home. she's been at work and not to snitch on her but she was having a bad day #from when she woke up this morning. i love my sister everyone be nice to my sister. #i love my siblings... and my family... alright goodbye have a nice day

[artxyra]

Her Little Robins

Note: So This was supposed to be a longer (damn near 8000 words) one-shot, but after much thought, I decided to break up the mini-stories that I had placed at the end and decided to upload them separately. 

There is one person that Damian would even dare look up to and he hasn’t seen her since before his mother brought him overseas to his father. She was the closest thing he had gotten to a mother figure despite being the opposite. Within the League of Assassins, she was on par with his own mother, but she was just as untouchable. She barely had any free time, between taking on League missions and living her life in the outside world. No one knows how she even became involved with the League but there was one thing he knew for sure. It wasn’t long after his conception.

For the past year, he has been under the care of his father, the very person he doesn’t belong to. Even after a year, his father still doesn’t understand him. He shows his love differently. He doesn’t belong in this broken household. Damian wasn’t sure how he even managed with all the fighting. Though there is one thing he would never admit—is that he cares. Caring was one of many hidden traits he had picked up from her.

His father doesn’t know how to care for him, but at least he tries to. Which is more than he can say about his mother. She never cared, in fact, the only time she cared was placing him into her arms. The fresh smell of apple blossoms always calming him down. That scent was more home than anything he has ever been to.

The last time he saw her—was the first time he had ever cried. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as she tells him her goodbyes. Making promises that he knows would never be kept. She was leaving to save both of them—to save him. Damian could never admit it to himself, but the night she left was the night his grandfather had declared that Damian was of age to determine his loyalty. A trial that would surely end in his or her death.

He hated going to sleep that night. The cold welcoming his return. There was no apple blossom scent laying beside him. No hand caressing his hair as he fell asleep. No French lullaby that was specifically made for him being sung. Just the harsh winds.

“Be brave my petit oiseau. Luck will always guide you in your journey.” She whispers to him every night as he loses consciousness. Those words would forever stick with him. Just like his father’s statement “Justice not vengeance” would. Though he would prefer the one from her over any others.

It’s been three years since then.

Today he wasn’t sure what to do, the anniversary of her disappearance was approaching, and his father’s family still didn’t understand why he is crankier—or what they would say brattier—during this time. He just wants to be alone.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” It was the way she always greeted him when he was little, and they were alone. Damian’s little legs would wrap around her own as she bends down to scoop him into her arms. When he was younger, he felt freer being around her. Her laughter was contagious. She would extend her pointer finger against his nose and giggles before blowing raspberries into his cheek which then caused him to laugh.

Instinctively, Damian curls into himself. He misses those feelings. Feelings that he’ll never get from his family at this rate.

So deep in his memories, Damian doesn’t remember entering the library, picking up a book, and finding comfort in the couch. He looks at the book that was opened in front of him. It was written in French. He has been in this room plenty of times and has skimmed every book at least once, so why does this book seem like a distance memory? The title was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Behind him, he hears a gasp, “Little D, do you have any idea what that is?” Great, it was Grayson, the fourth person he didn’t want to see this evening.

“A book.” The youngest Wayne deadpans placing the book down on the couch and getting up to take his leave.

Before he could walk out of the door, he heard Grayson shout something, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to listen.

As he walks back to his room, that French book stayed on his mind. The cover’s art style was unique, and it reminded him of her. She would draw him small artwork pieces and sometimes let him join her in the process, in fact, he still has the majority of the drawings that she and he made locked in a box underneath his bed. Then there was the book’s dedication page: “À tous mes petits oiseaux qui ont besoin de chance dans leurs moments les plus sombres.” That he could easily translate to: “To all my little birds who need luck in their darkest moments.” He needs to know more. Maybe that book holds the missing piece in finding her? He wants her back in his life, now more than ever.

However, that doesn’t explain how his father owns such a book. Let alone the reaction he had gotten out of Grayson just by holding the book.

~*~

“Hold on, you’re telling me that the demon reincarnated found Pixie’s book?” He heard Todd asks when he was on his way to the library. It was clear that Grayson had grabbed the book once he had left and gathered the rest of his non-blood-related siblings.

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you. When I had entered the room to tell him that we are expecting a guest soon—which I couldn’t—he appeared to be in deep thought staring at the book. Like that isn’t usual at all.” Grayson explains and out of everything his older brother said, the word guest caught his attention. It was rare when his father invited people to the manor that has nothing to do with charity, galas, or potential business agreements. A guest usually signifies a Justice League member or a new sibling (something that he knows doesn’t need to happen).

“Isn’t this usually the time when the demon gets all moody?” When did Drake even pay attention to him? Of course, he is always moody, and he has good reasons for that.

“You actually pay attention to the little shit, Replacement? This is laughable, you’re usually the last one to notice anything.” Todd laughs to which Damian had the itching need to grab his katana and slice Jason in half. Though he had to agree, it was laughable as it was Drake who noticed it despite being in a coffee-induced haze for most of the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake then pauses, probably to take a sip of coffee that will forever be in his hands. “That doesn’t explain how he would find Bean’s book interesting. Only those of us that have met her would find that book interesting as it’s—”

“We know!” Together Grayson and Todd scream.

“Look guys we can either keep hovering over the fact that Damian found her book or let it play out and see where it goes, just like Bruce and Alfred did for us.” Drake sounded tired which wasn’t usual but more tired than normal at this time of day.

“As much as I hate it, I agree with Replacement for this,” Todd responds without a doubt looking at Grayson when he said it.

Damian could hear Grayson sigh of defeat. The room goes silent just enough for Damian to make his presence known.

“What’s so important about the book?” He asks stepping across the threshold and eyeing the book that is in Grayson’s hand.

At once his brothers try to answer but one look at Damian’s face; they knew they could lie themselves out of it.  So, they opted for the oldest to speak.

“Look, Little D, this book means a lot to the family. The fact that you picked up just gave an insight into something we didn’t think you would have.” Grayson starts to which Damian tsks and looks away. He hated having this much attention on him, and the short explanation still didn’t answer his question.

“Then what makes this book so important to the family, that I had no idea of its existence until today?” Damian growls through his teeth. His brothers only look between one another which only made Damian even more agitated. “You know what, never mind.”

“Damian—” Dick is cut off by the door slamming in his face. He could only sigh in defeat as the figure of his younger brother disappears.

“So, what now?” Tim asks before taking another sip of his coffee. It was clear that his older brothers don’t know what to do.

Jason decides that now is the best time to take the book from Dick and throws himself onto the couch. He begins to read the book as if it was his only source of peace.

~*~

For Jason, the book was the only close connection he had to her. She was the mother he always dreamed of, and he hated it when she would leave for long periods of time. He hated not taking her offer to live with her. Months before his death, she had asked him to live with her, be the caretaker of her apartment back in France, but he had declined. Being Robin was all he ever wanted, and she knew that, but he also knows that something spooked her. She never did ask that again after the first time, and it kind of saddens Jason a bit.

The night before his death, she had called him asking for him to stay safe. To not get cocky about anything while being away. Stay in contact with Bruce, in fact, she specifically told him not to leave Bruce’s side. He should have listened to her warnings that night. Just maybe he wouldn’t have died by the hands of the Joker.

When he was revived with the Lazarus Pit, one of the first things he acknowledged was the words “Qu'est-ce qui vous est arrivé mon petit Jaybird?” What happened to him? He didn’t know what was happening. He was feeling so many negative emotions at once that he couldn’t differentiate anything. The last thing he remembered from that encounter was a pair of lips pressing against his forehead. The next thing he knew, he was lost somewhere he didn’t know but he somehow knew he had to find himself.

When he came back to Gotham under the impression that Bruce and everyone around him needed to go, it wasn’t Bruce that stopped him. No, it was her. She appeared between them with tears streaming down from her mask. He couldn’t harm her, not after everything she had done for him. It felt so wrong to have his fingers itching to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t let it go. Bruce needed to pay for giving up on, for replacing him.

They didn’t even exchange words, her tears were enough. She walked over to him, taking the gun away from him and gently placing it on the ground. He felt so alone as she pulled him into her arms whispering the French lullaby, she sang to him when he was down.

Jason doesn’t remember what happened next after that, but what he does know was that he had woken up in the manor and Bruce and sitting in an armchair beside his bed. They didn’t speak to one another—why it was because they didn’t know what to start with. Hellos? No, they already knew each other. I’m sorry? Not even an option, they’re too stubborn to admit anything. It was just a moment of silence. Not for the dead but for all the pain that they were enduring.

As he read the familiar words, Jason wonders how his life would have been having she not been a part of his life. She always knew what to say and when to say it. Never judging them for wanting to be heroes vigilantes. She was the glue that kept this family together aside from Alfred, and they all miss her.

“Hey Jaybird,” Of course it was Dick who had to return and ruin the moment.

“What do you want? Can’t you see that I’m reading?” Jason doesn’t take his eyes away from the book, it’s not like he could have anyway. Her words always had a way of entrapping the reader until the very end.

“Bruce wants everyone in the living room.” Dick answers pointing to the open door that was close just minutes ago. Jason huffs and places the book back on the shelf.

“Alright, let see what B has in store for us.” Jason walks past Dick and into the halls. Dick just stares back at the location Jason had placed the book. He was tempted to go grab it, but he knows, keeping Bruce waiting sounds like a bad idea especially since he asked for the family.

~*~

In the living room, Damian sat moodily in the armchair. Arms folded and all. He would look up to glare at his family members still thinking that they were all beneath him in taking the Wayne name.

“So, tell us, Bruce, what is the real reason you have us all gather here?” Jason observed the way the room was structured. Alfred was standing next to Bruce like usual while everyone else just sits and waits for the other shoe to drop.

“It has come to my attention that Damian found M’s book.” Bruce turns to his youngest, who was clearly lost in thought. Something he never thought would happen to Damian. Then again this isn’t the first time it has happened. “Damian, have you ever meet a person under the name of Marin Etta? Marin? Mari?” With each name, Damian shakes his head.

For Damian, the names were foreign. She was always Tatie to him as she never really spoke of her real name. It was mention once, but it has been so long that he had forgotten. In fact, tatie was the first word she taught him in French before moving onto the basics.

“No father,” Damian denies and leans back into his seat. Bruce sighs.

“Little D, you must have met her.” Dick states pointing fingers.

“Before this becomes a brawl, I would like to announce that she’ll be sending gifts to the manor,” Alfred states causing the boys, aside from Damian, eyes to bug out. Tim had to rub his eyes to make sure that he was awake.

~*~

For Tim, she was more than someone he looks up to. She was a person that he could rely on and rant to. When he first arrived at the manor, yes, he was excited, but at the same time frightened beyond disbelief. She picked up on this and offer to take him to her favorite little coffee shop. To this day, Tim swears she owns the little cozy coffee shop that they always go to when they needed a break. Those visits were always just the two of them and no one else.

Tim remembers when he took up the Robin mantle, she was furious at Bruce and even yelled at him for bringing into the battle when he was just a child. He is sure that when the Joker first captured him it was her that found him and took out the Joker, not Bruce. The only proof that he had from that encounter was Bruce looking like he was chewed out by his mother once he had recovered.

She was more than just a team member—she was family. The person that introduced him to the secret of making the right coffee. Something that everyone around him would look down upon. To Tim, coffee was more than his life source; it was a reminder of everything she ever did for him. It was one of the few connections he had to her and he doesn’t want to lose that.

So just being told that she is sending them gifts was such a surprise. She never just sends random gifts; her gifts were always well thought out. Planned for the person receiving the item. Tim had once received a coffee recipe book, something that he vows never to use unless she is with him. He couldn’t risk is family taking away another source of coffee for him.

Sure, they could go visit her whenever, but she never sticks around in one place. Tim remembers the time he tried to track her down and he came up with dead ends after dead ends. Not even Bruce could find her and he’s the world’s greatest detective.

~*~

“When do they arrive?” Dick had practically shouted earning Tim’s attention, something that is usually locked on coffee and or paperwork.

Alfred raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Tim knows the family butler already knows the answer. It most likely that the gifts had already arrived, and he just wants to see them suffer over it.

“Master Damian please come with me.” Alfred requested to which everyone eyes the youngest Wayne. Damian was unsure what Pennyworth wanted with him and the fact that it was him and not his father, he was feeling anxious.

“Of course,” Damian answers getting out of his seat.

Dick watches the baby bird walk away from the family. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this encounter. Alfred rarely asks for them individually. Though he was heavily thinking about the presents his big sister figure may have brought him.

“Don’t even think about it, Dick.” Bruce grunts seeing the devious look in his oldest eyes. Dick blanches and turns around; he had some searching hacking to do. Knowing that Alfred would have hidden the items somewhere within the manor, he knew just where to start his journey. Years of being a part of the Wayne household has its perks, especially being trained by her to find all the hidden spots.

She was only a couple of years older than him. It never made sense to call her his aunt when they were so close in age. She was also the first person that Dick confided in after his parents’ deaths. She was with Bruce when he went that show, and she was first to comfort him even before the cops could take his statement. To traumatize by what he just saw, he didn’t comprehend the lullaby she was singing in French to soothe him.

Dick would never forget how she took it a part of herself to make sure that the manor felt like a home. Bruce was gone every night tracking down Zucco. She made sure he didn’t feel alone, uncared for. If it wasn’t for her, Dick doesn’t know what would have happened to him.

“Les étoiles sont brillantes ce soir, Dickie.” The stars are bright tonight, she had once said to him the night he was thinking about running away. He had everything packed and all he needed to do was open that window and jump out. Her voice caught him by surprise, so much that he had almost forgotten what he wanted to do.

In the end, he cried his heart out to her and she let him do it. He doesn’t remember what happened next, but the next day Bruce actually showed up for breakfast and sat down with them. It wasn’t long after that that he would become Robin.

~*~

Damian didn’t know why Alfred was leading him outside the manor. It’s not like he had forgotten to take care of Alfred the cat and Titus. Alfred stops short of the gazebo that is rarely in use unless someone plans on making a romantic dinner date of some kind. Damian was about to ask Alfred why they are here when a familiar feminine voice speaks. This voice was etched into his brain and before he knew it his arms were wrapped around a person’s torso.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” He didn’t want to look up, too afraid for this to be a dream. Damian didn’t care if his cheeks were becoming wet, he just wanted to hold her tight. Never letting go. “Petit oiseau, oh how you have grown.” She speaks again, her hands caressing his hair to which he doesn’t complain.

“Tatie, tu me manques tellement.” Damian cries out hiding his face into her shirt. Moments later, he looks up to be greeted by the bluebell eyes that he loved so much. He never realized how much her eye color reminds him so much of Bruce’s. Though her eye color holds so much love and emotions, more than what he can say for Bruce’s.

“Petit oiseau, I am here now. How are you? Have you been treating your father well? Oh, Dami, I knew I should have taken you with me.” She says as she walks them over to the bench and sits down. She could see that Alfred was standing off to the side smiling at the duo.

Alfred then mouths, “I’ll leave you two be” to her, to which she nods and turns her attention back to Damian.

~*~

Returning the manor, Alfred was greeted by an excited Dick and Jason. He knew what they wanted; they wanted the gifts, but the gift is currently outside hugging her surrogate son.

“Master Richard and Master Jason, is there something you need?” He asks with an eyebrow raised. Alfred was known for a lot of things—he is required too in order to keep the manor afloat.

“Hey, Alfred, where is Little D, and how soon we will be receiving those gifts?” Dick asks as he and Jason share a forced smile. Alfred wasn’t buying it.

“Moments after the young master is done receiving his own.” With that, Alfred walks off with a smirk plastered on his lips.

All the Wayne men in the room look at one another.

“Hold on, did he just say that the Demon Spawn, is receiving his gift right now…what the flying fuck did he get?” Jason screams out and he would have stalk after Alfred if it wasn’t for Bruce’s glare practically telling his son not to do it, so instead, Jason huffs.

“It can’t be anything good if it’s for the demon,” Tim states finally coming alive from his coffee-induce haze. The teen was unsure of what was happening, but he knows it was a tense situation.

“We’ll wait for Damian to come to us.” Bruce says, “If the gift is dangerous, we’ll take matters into our own hands.” That was enough to prevent his sons from going after their younger brother.

~*~

Damian was having the time of his life being close to his tatie. He spoke to her with so much enthusiasm about his pets, mentioning his dreams in opening up an animal shelter, all the pranks he did on his brothers. Damian even showed her pictures of Titus and Alfred the cat was which is something he rarely does; heck, he doesn’t really show pictures of his animals to Jon, his best friend.

“That is wonderful, Damian.” She spoke with such a light laugh.

“Hold on, Tatie, how did you know that I was here?” Realization finally settles as Damian wraps his head around the fact that she knew where he was. They haven’t seen each other in three years and surely, she didn’t find his mother and demanded answers.

She sighs and allows Damian to sit up from his resting position. “Damian, I knew you were Bruce’s child since before you were born. There is a reason why I love that you call me Tatie because I am your aunt. Bruce is my older brother. My real name is Marin Etta Wayne, but most people call me Marinette.” She explains staring into his forest green eyes. Tears swell in her eyes almost like she was afraid to tell him everything.

Damian didn’t know how to react. Happy? Furious? Confused? He was so conflicted that he was rendered speechless. This person has been in his life since birth, has done more for him than his own parents, was actually his biological aunt.

Instead of reacting out of anger, he wraps his arms around her and mumbles a series of thank you in various languages. Her explanation solidifies the fact that she’ll never leave him.

“Je t'aime, mon petit oiseau.” She whispers to him.

They stay in silence until Alfred makes himself known with a loud cough. Damian had fallen asleep in her arms to which she was happily content with holding him. She looks up and gestures for Alfred to come closer.

“It seems that the young master enjoyed his gift,” Alfred states looking at the sleeping eleven-year-old. Marinette moves to scoop Damian into her arms. He was a lot heavier than when he was six. After getting into a comfortable position, she turns to Alfred.

“Has Brucie done this for him, before?” She asks as they begin to walk back to the manor.

“On occasion, usually when he is late coming in as Robin. Though it is nice to have you around again, Marin Etta, your presence always begin joy to the family.” Alfred answers, “Are you staying for the night?”

“Not tonight, Alfie. I’m sure the boys will go crazy over Damian’s gift until they see what it actually is. I’ll give them a shock tomorrow and stay for the rest of the week. Vic is helping Helena with some things, so I got time to spare for once.” She replies explaining her reasoning.

Alfred simply raises an eyebrow, he knows she’s withholding information from him, but he also knows that she will do anything to keep her problems under wraps. That’s the reason why she never told Bruce she was Ladybug until after the defeat of Hawkmoth and the creation of her vigilante persona, Kismet.

“In that case, I’ll take the young master and put him to bed. I will see you in the morning.” Marinette hands him Damian who didn’t want to leave her. He managed to tighten his grip around her despite never once waking up. Only after did she whisper promises of seeing him the next day did he release his hold on her and latch onto Alfred.

When Alfred walked inside with the sleeping Damian, he was bombarded by those he considers grandchildren. Jason was beyond in disbelief to see a koala version of the demon that usually glares at them. Tim thought he was hallucinating to the point where he pours the remains of his coffee out the window and walked away sluggishly. Dick was cooing and taking pictures, more than likely saving them for blackmail material. Bruce was wondering what put his youngest to sleep before even going on patrol. He knows that Alfred knows but getting information out of the butler is an impossible task.

“I guess Robin will not be joining us tonight?”

“That is correct, sir. The young master had tired himself out with his gift today. Shall I put him to bed or would like to do that honor?” Alfred answers readjusting the pre-teen in his arms. Bruce nods and takes Damian away from Alfred. It was moments like these that he misses. When his sister was younger, he would hold her and just holding her made him feel complete. Holding Damian was similar in feeling considering his height and weight.

~*~

Dick, Jason, and Tim were jealous of Damian. He had received his gift the day before and here they were sitting at the dining room table waiting for Alfred to show up. Damian had this smug look on his face the second his brothers bombarded him with questions regarding his present. He doesn’t give any indication that it was a person but an animal. That got his brothers to leave him alone for a moment.

Bruce had been the last person to enter the room. He was working on Wayne Enterprise paperwork that should have been completed earlier but wasn’t. Alfred walks in with a tray of food. As he set the plates down, they immediately took notice of an extra plate. Before either of them could question the butler, they heard someone say, “Bonjour mes amours!”

Before anyone could react, Damian runs out of his chair and into her arms. He wraps his arms around her and glares at his family members, daring them to come at her.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” She chuckles returning the hug to the younger male. Damian doesn’t say anything, he just stays in her arms.

While the family stares in shock of seeing Damian showing emotions, it was also the shock at the arrival of the one person that hoped to show up soon.

“Mari!” A series of excited shouts echo through the room. Jason was the next person out of his seat and trying to push Damian away for space. Damian fought back, nearly biting Jason’s hand just so he could stay in his tatie’s arms. Jason glares his younger brother.

“Oh c’mon, there’s enough of me to go around.” She chuckles sending Jason a sheepish smile, “Dami, can you let go so that I could hug Jay-Jay and the others?” She looks down at the young boy, only to feel that his grip had tightened around her. She knows that he would not let go. “Dami, I promise to make you some of my infamous shortbread cookies.” At that request, Damian reluctantly lessens his grip.

“You imbeciles only have one minute with her,” Damian growls turning to his family acknowledging the fact that they also know his tatie. “59, 58, 57…” He starts to count down.

The older Wayne children knew he was serious, and they immediately jump to hug Marinette. Dick was smothering her having taken onto wrapping himself around her torso. She manages to stay afloat by resting Jason and Tim who were side hugging her. It surprised her that it wasn’t Jason who had the running start but wasn’t shock that it was Dick instead.

“10, 9, 8…” They all heard Damian continue. The moment the young Wayne managed to get to zero, he let out a battle cry and begins pushing his brothers out of his way. Damian latches himself onto her and glares at anyone that came within a certain radius of her.

“How the hell does the demon know Pixie, when he literally had no clue who she was yesterday,” Jason shouts as the excitement of seeing Marinette dies down among everyone.

Marinette chuckles and scoops Damian into her arms. If it was anyone else, Damian would have squirmed, complained, and demanded to be let down, but this is his tatie and he has little care for what his brothers think of him right at this moment.

“That’s because all Dami has ever known me to be was Tatie.” She explains as Damian grumbles into her neck.

“Wha!” The boys yell stimulatingly to which Marinette looks everywhere but at her nephews.

“How about this, let's finish eating the wonderful breakfast Alfred made first, then I will explain it all afterward.” She suggests walking over to the table as everyone behind her follows. They know to not disagree with her. She has just as much power as Alfred and could most likely get away with murder.

While they ate breakfast, there was growing tension. Everyone, aside from Alfred, Marinette, and Damian, wanted answers. Bruce watches his sister eat her portion of breakfast; he knows something was going on. Then he saw how quickly his youngest reacted to her like there was some form of bond that they share that he didn’t with his own son. Bruce isn’t that dense; he knows that without her his life would be filled with so much darkness and pain. She made everything tolerable, kept the family together even in their darkest of days.

When breakfast ended, they all gather in the living room. Titus trotted over to his owner and lay beside him.

“So, who’s first?” She asks as she pets Titus’s head as he was close to her and he let her.

“Back to my question before, how the hell do you know the demon?” Jason practically shouts pulling his ear.

“I’ve practically known about since his birth. Actually… even before he was even born. I knew Talia was up to something when she was constantly trying to get into Bruce’s good graces. As we all know, my ability to sense something is wrong is almost never incorrect. So, I followed her to the League of Assassin under a new identity. I was about to leave, but then she announces that she was carrying the league’s heir. I knew the child was going to Bruce’s.” She turns to Damian with a sad smile on her face. To this day, she hated the way Damian came into this world, but she would never give him up for anything.

“You side missions?” Bruce wonders aloud.

“Yes, when I wasn’t with the miraculous court or with the JL, I was with Damian watching after him. I became his caretaker when Talia took it upon herself to be his mentor rather than a mother. Did you know I was the first person to hold him? He had such a small tuft of hair.” Damian blanches when she started to gush about his childhood. He likes to keep that under wraps, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Are you back for real…now?” It was Tim that has asked that.

“Oh, my petit oiseau de café, I’m here to stay. I can’t have you running Gotham without me.” Marinette answers with a wink, but she can tell by the looks of deadpan facials from the males she knew that they didn’t buy it. “I’m staying until the court needs me. That and I’m sure Kismet can bring a little luck to this city of darkness.”

“With that answer…welcome home, Sunshine!” Dick screams with excitement before flinging himself to his sister figure. Marinette catches the taller bird and laughs. However, the embrace didn’t last long as Damian pushes Dick off of her and takes over the filled space.

“Oi, she’s mine, you dolts, get your own.” Damian hiss at his brother who looked beyond offensive.

“Oh, hold on!” They all shouted, “We knew her first, you little demon.” This quickly became a tug-of-war for Marinette, who looks sheepishly between the boys, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

The second, Marinette was able to slip away from his nephews, she made her way over to Bruce. They didn’t say anything, though Bruce did hold his arms out waiting that that hug that they always do. Their embrace was not a short one.

“I miss you, Bruce.” She mumbles into his shirt.

“I miss you too, M.” Bruce pauses placing a kiss onto her forehead. “So, tell me about what happened in Brazil?” Marinette’s eyes widen at that request. She knew she had to come up with something fast, but she also knows that her big brother wouldn’t let that go. Brazil was an authorized JL mission that she joined Question and Huntress on, that didn’t end well per se.

“Oh, look the boys are about to break something.” She squeals turning their attention to the four brothers still wrestling on the floor. Sure enough, a loud crash is heard.

Bruce groans and wanted to yell at his sons for being too rough, but this was a typical morning. The boys would rough house at least three times a day before they all separated. Then again, it really depends on whether Jason and Dick decide to stay at the manor for long periods of time.

“Boys!” Marinette shrieks getting their attention to which they had the audacity to pretend that nothing had happened. They don’t want to play that game with her. There is a reason why she rules the manors better than Bruce.

“Yes, Tatie,” Damian speaks up first resisting the urge to run over to her and hug her in an attempt to make his brothers jealous. Who was he kidding, he would totally do that anyway just for the hell of it.  

His brothers glance at him; however, it was clear that Jason was glaring more so than anything.

“What?” Damian shrugs, “She clearly wanted our attention, isn’t that right, tatie?”

Marinette sends Damian a smile that the family knows all too well, that smile was not her usual friendly ones, it was sinister. “Oh, petit oiseau, you have no idea. Now, it still early in the morning, and I don’t want to spend my first day with the family babysitting you four, or do I need to call the girls have girls’ day with them instead?”

The looming threat of having the girls spend time with Marinette instead of them was enough for everyone to nod in agreeance.

“Now who wants to be the first to read my newest family book?” Bruce silently raises his hand which she sees out of the corner of her eye. Digging into her purse she pulls out a new book with an enchanting cover with the title written in French. She then hands it to Bruce despite the cries of protest from her nephews.

“I saw his hand first, actually I saw Alfred’s first, but he already read it. Didn’t you, Alfie?”

“Of course, I did, Miss Marin Etta, it was another novel that will go into the family history.” He smiles at her, to which Marinette sends him a blushful smile.

“Thank you, Alfie. Now, who’s up for a family drawing session?” This time the boys gather around her. Damian hisses at his brothers daring them to come any closer as practical koala himself into Marinette’s arms. Jason stares at the little traitor, planning his downfall.

“I should have introduced Damian to her when he first arrived. That would have saved us so many headaches.” Bruce groans happily acknowledging the sudden change in his youngest at the sight of his sister.

“That would correct, sir. Shall I prepare you some tea and scones while you read Marin Etta’s book?”

“Yes, thank you, Alfred.” Bruce pauses for a moment to open the book, he is immediately greeted with the dedication page, a smile appears on his face, “Actually Alfred, how about you go spend time with M and the boys after you’re done.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I know you miss her just as much as the rest of us.”   

Bruce turns his attention back to the dedication pages that read, “Une famille qui se bat ensemble reste ensemble même quand tout semble perdu.” A family that fights together stays together even when everything seems lost.

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#maribat #sibling brucinette #auntinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #this started because I wanted yearning batbros and clingy damian #I regret nothing

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

Grumpy Ari

This is the 36th time joining @flashfictionfridayofficial! Thanks for the interesting prompt! This is the modern AU of The Song of Wind. (first time writing an AU story!) 

Word Count:990

T/W: cursing/swearing 

Ari (they/them): Arrogant rich kid

Ross (he/him): Gloomy gardener working at Ari’s mansion

‘You miserable beings! Why the hell all my housekeepers are useless!’

A shrieking voice from a young person dressed in a visibly expensive suit echoes in the guestroom. 

‘We are sorry, young master Ari.’ 

However, this apology from the caretakers angers Ari even more. Ari shakes their head in disapproval. 

‘You are all dismissed, petty servants! And remember, you can’t call my name like that, idiots!’ 

They give a death glare to the trembling caretakers as they slip out of the room. Ari throws a jacket worth a bag full of gold carelessly on the leather couch, looking at the empty space where the flower vase was. It was made of pure crystal, decorated with intricate carvings. It was massive and magnificent, adorned  with ever-lasting artificial roses. Arta sighs deeply, complaining and cursing not only the caretakers who mistakenly dropped it, but also everything about this old, unfamiliar mansion. It is their possession now, but it looks too strange to Ari, who grew up in the high-rise tower in the middle of the city. 

‘How did I end up in this dirty, depressing shed?’

This ‘disaster’ started 3 months ago. Ari was enjoying luxurious city life. But an unexpected email turned their life upside down. Their estranged relatives told them that Ari inherited a billion worth mansion in the countryside because the brothers who were supposed to inherit it were all ‘illegible’ - the older one was disowned by choosing his partner without approval, and the younger one decided to choose his own path and left the mansion. So the old lady of the mansion had no choice but to reach out to her most hated daughter, apparently refusing to get involved in any sort of family issues. However, in the end, a letter written by the old master was ‘discovered.’

‘And according to that bloody letter, you are the one to inherit that ancient stinky mansion and some billions.’

Karen, Ari’s mother, said indifferently.

‘Now, you gotta deal with it. You can be super rich.’

She shrugged as she passed the letter from the lawyer.

‘And you can get rid of me from this flat, huh? How fortunate!’ 

With a sarcastic smile, Ari replied.

‘It’s not how a child talks to their mother. But yes, and you’ll get a mansion of your own. It’s not a bad deal.’ And that was the last conversation between Karen and Ari. 

Standing in the middle of the uncomfortably spacious guestroom, Ari still stares at the empty space. They do not miss the flower vase worth a thousand quid.

‘Huh, that disgusting, old-fashioned, thing  should be in a bin. And those sloppy idiots, too!’

Ari believes that everyone working or living in the mansion deliberately irritates them.

‘They are talking on my back, mocking me when I’m away…just like others.’

Ari sits on the couch angrily. They know that there is a rumour that they are not related to the family by blood because of their unusual appearance - fluffy silver hair, lean-built, and eyes with shade of purple. They look like a fairy as long as they shut their mouth…which they never manage to do. Ari’s hand reaches out for a cigarette and a silver lighter. It is prohibited to smoke in the guest room, but so what? Ari traces the mysterious patterns the smoke creates in the air. They are so fragile, so ethereal, so dreamy. Their gaze moves to the empty space again. There was not only the flower vase - but also a small bird made of glass. Ari recalls its blue wings, and their beady, crystal eyes. It would be a lie if Ari said that they would not miss it. It was the only gift they received from the old master, their grandfather. 

‘That stupid, f*cking flower vase!’ 

Ari breathes out, then finds something shining under the coffee table. It is a blue shard, definitely a piece of now-gone bird. Without thinking, Ari reaches out as if it is something so precious that must be salvaged. 

They feel a sudden sharp pain on their palm. The shard slips from their hand with a drop of blood.

Their high-pitched scream and relentless curse are intercepted by a deep, grave voice.

‘No smoking allowed here.’

A man with long dark hair staring at them from above. 

‘Who are you?’

Caught off guard, Ari asks without a usual insult.

‘A gardener.’

He replies nonchalantly and that irritates Ari. 

‘Ha! That muddy, dirty rat running around the shitty garden?’

‘I’m not a rat.’

His indifferent calmness reawakens the anger in Ari.

‘You, petty servant can’t tell me what to do.’

Ari crosses their legs, looking at him with a mocking smile.

‘I’m not your servant.’ 

‘Then, what are you doing, miserable being? Stealing some stuff for your rotten dinner?’

Ari breathes out.

‘No. But I know coming here was meaningless.’

Ari is so upset - they have never come across such a blunt, unwavering person before. 

‘You b*stard! How can you be so rude to your young master?’

Ari grabs the collar of gardener’s shirt. A streak of blood runs from their pale hand, staining the gardener’s shirt. Stunned, Ari stares at the stain spreading on the shirt.

‘It was not useless, after all. Does it hurt, yeah?’

The gardener takes Ari's wounded hand carefully.

‘No, it doesn’t. I’m not a coward like you, shocked by the sight of a mere cut.’

‘Good, then you can take this.’

He replies with nothing but a small laugh.

Ari manages to tolerate the burning sensation of disinfectant spray. The gardener makes his way to the door, without making any comments on his stained shirt.

‘Wait!’

Ari grabs the fringe of his sleeve. They are confused by their own actions, but somehow, the words flow out.

‘What’s…your name?’

Bewildered, the gardener looks at Ari’s surprisingly naive face. 

‘Ross.’

And that is the first name Ari comes to know after spending 3 month in the mansion. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#fff139 #Flash Fiction Friday #it doesn't hurt #modern au #the song of wind #Ari being rude and arrogant as always #and Ross being gloomy but caring as always

[soramel]

Chained to you (Part 2)

genre: angst, romance, unconventional relationship warning: eventual smut A/N: cross-posted from wattpad; updates are uploaded there first

1 2 3 4 

Part 2 words: 5.7k

The car rolled off to a much narrower street an hour later. The place he's driving into is in the middle of the woods. You wondered if you actually led yourself into his bear trap. "You're not going to kill me here, are you?" you asked in a serious tone although you intended it to sound like a joke.

You became a bit nervous when Taehyung didn't respond.

A decent modern cabin appeared in your line of sight. Its façade is adorned with huge thick glass panes. The car turned to a halt. "We're here," he announced.

Still unsure of the situation, you shook your head then headed out of the car anyway.

An old couple welcomed you to the place. They were wearing warm smiles as they greeted Taehyung and you.

"It's been a long time, Taehyung. You've grown so much." the older woman gushed. Taehyung politely chuckled as he gave them brief hugs, "I missed you and uncle a lot. Sorry for coming in a short notice."

The older man laughed, "It's alright, we regularly clean the cabin so it's not much of a preparation. Let's head inside first. I'll take your luggage, Ma'am."

You shyly gripped your bag, not wanting the old man to carry a light luggage for you. He reminds you so much of your grandfather, "It's not heavy. I can carry it myself, sir."

He waved his hand off and said, "I insist. You're a special guest here, allow me."

But really, you couldn't.

Taehyung held you by your waist and said, "Let uncle take your bag, we still have to show you around the house."

That was just an excuse for you to let go, but there's something in his tone saying that you should follow what he's saying. So, you conceded, giving your bag to the man.

As you walk inside, the lady briefly briefs Taehyung as to how the cabin has been. You saw paintings and some interesting ornaments. The place looks like an ideal vacation house for holidays.

"I cooked your favorite. It's not much because I just brought some stocks from our quarters instead of buying from the market. We'll head out later to shop," the lady told Taehyung. Then he politely said his thanks.

The old couple climbed up the wooden staircase while you and Taehyung followed behind. They led you to a room. He then turned to them and took your bag from the man. "I'll take it from here, auntie, uncle. We'll go to the dining room after."

The lady replied, "Ah, we'll be leaving now for the market. We'll leave you by yourselves."

You bowed at them as they turned on their way.

He then closed the door and headed to the office table and set your bag there. "They're our caretakers here. If you need something, you can ask them."

You nodded as you looked around the room. It's minimally decorated that you guessed it's a guestroom. It has its own little walk-in closet and bathroom. You walked back and saw Taehyung sitting by the couch at the foot of the bed, watching you. "Is there wifi here?" you asked. He nodded, "You can ask auntie later for the password."

You sat on the bed, deep in your thoughts. Now what? you wondered. Maybe you can book a flight to somewhere. Doesn't matter where that is. Running away from all of this is still the most appealing thing to your mind right now. But what about your responsibilities?

You were pulled out of your reverie when Taehyung spoke.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Raising a brow at him you retorted, "You're still here?"

"You intrigue me, princess."

You scoffed at that. "A lot of people are interested in my life. You're welcome for having the front seat."

"Hmm... I don't think I'm a mere audience. Am I not your knight?" he asked with that teasing smile on his face that you badly want to wipe off.

"I'll be downstairs. I'm sure you're hungry. Don't take too long," he said before heading towards the door, leaving you alone.

#

"You can stay here as long as you want, Y/n. It's safer," he told you after the meal. He was watching you the whole time as if you're a puzzle that he's trying to figure out. You're used to being watched but having this kind of attention from him is bothersome.

You sighed, torn between freeing yourself from this and your responsibilities to your employees. Back in the room, that was the only time when you think about the post you left today. A one day off won't hurt, but how long can you go on like this? It's such a waste that your professional life is too tied with your personal one. Running away from all of this will also give your opponents a reason to kick you out. Not everyone is in favor of having a young single woman in a high position.

"That night..." you started. He then waited for you to continue. He had a hint on what you wanna talk about. "Did you know that it was me?" you finally asked. It felt like you just dropped a bomb in the silent dining hall. He didn't reply right away, weighing your expression. So you told him, "Tell me the truth."

Without hesitation he then admitted, "Yes, I knew it was you."

You were dumbfounded at his revelation. You were suspicious but it feels different coming straight from him. He then said, "But I wasn't planning on sleeping with you that night," for a second, uneasiness flashed his eyes, different from his usual calculated yet playful persona. "But I guess, I'm just a man with needs. You were smoking hot in that skimpy dress," he added further, throwing you a smirk. Then he's back again to the man you knew.

That afternoon, you opened your phone and started making calls. Instructing your secretary to send you urgent matters through email.

"But ma'am, what about your scheduled meetings?" he asked after noting down your instructions.

Sighing, "Who are the ones for this week?" you asked. He cited a long list in a timeline order, telling you that he already had the meetings for this day on hold until further notice. Most of them were for internal purposes and some were proposals from other companies.

"Meeting with finance and marketing will be done online. Same time. For the others, have them send their written reports. I'll expect those in my inbox on the day of the scheduled meeting. For the proposals, send me their pitch but if they insist on meeting me personally, have it on hold."

You felt sorry for him, the work sounded a lot but you needed to prioritize. "I'm sorry, Jae. I have personal matters to settle and I'll come back as soon as I can. Just give me a week."

"It's okay, Ms. Y/n. You've been working hard for the past months. Don't worry too much. I hope everything will be fine soon," he said though he's wondering what kind of problem you're having to not go to work given that news about your engagement just got released. He assumed you're spending more time with your fiancé now that he just got back from America.

"That's all, I'll be waiting for your emails by the end of the day," you told him before ending the call.

Now all you have to do is wait. You sighed, slumping yourself back on the bed. However, peace didn't last that long as your phone rang again. Your friend Sunmi's calling.

Annoyed, you still picked up the call to make her stop, "Sunmi," you greeted, your voice cold. "The news of your engagement was like wildfire online. They're saying it's the same man that you were with that night. How can that happen?" she asked frantically. Then followed up, "Are you okay? I'm worried."

"I had no idea they're the same. I don't remember his face, that's why. And I'm okay. Don't worry."

Still, that didn't send her comfort. "Where are you? I'll visit you," she said, her voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, "Don't. I'm with Taehyung. We went outside town," you told her wishing that this would make her stop.

"Look, Sunmi, I'm really busy and I'm still working remotely. Again, I'm doing fine and don't worry too much. It's burdening. I'm an adult," you added. You sounded harsh over the line and it made you feel a bit sorry, but you didn't take back what you said.

She then said, "Okay. Just take care of yourself," before the line went off.

#

So, for the next few days, you sulked inside the room, working. Taehyung did the same. He stayed true to his words when he told you that evening that he'll be keeping his eyes on you. You just bump into each other when you go to the dining room for lunch or dinner. Neither of your parents disturbed you knowing that you guys are together. Taehyung assured them that you're doing fine.

Feeling stuffy for burrowing in your own hole for the past two days, you went out to work in the living room. You were on the sofa when the door to your right opened, revealing Taehyung. He's wearing black shirt and shorts. That room was his office, you took a glimpse of it yesterday when you were taking a coffee break. His brow raised up when he saw you dressed up.

"I have an online meeting at 10," you simply said even though he didn't ask. Today's meeting is with the marketing department.

He simply nodded, then said, "I thought you'll be thinking over things, Y/n. But you only drowned yourself with work."

"Just keep on being a good boy, alright? I might reconsider being married to you," you retorted. That earned a smirk from him then followed by an incredulous chuckle. You didn't mean what you said though. You still wanted out of the arrangement. You were thinking of alternatives that you can present to your parents and the Kims. Those thoughts have been keeping you up at night.

Taehyung finally left you alone, heading towards the kitchen. You set up your things on the table and waited for the call.

When he came back to your area, you were already discussing with the marketing team, asking them questions about the powerpoint they sent you. He sat on the single-seater couch, watching you while sipping his coffee. You couldn't help but raise a brow at him.

He did nothing to disturb you, but his stares made you uncomfortable for some reason. Then after a few minutes, his phone rang. This halted your discussion with the team. You threw him a warning glance. Taehyung stood up and went to his office to answer the call. When the door fell shut, you turned to the camera. "I'm sorry, you may continue," you muttered.

After a minute, Taehyung stormed out of his room and called you, "Y/n"

You looked at him with irritation, "I'm in a meeting, Taehyung. Can you please go away?"

He just ignored you and went upstairs. You sighed at his attitude. Then your phone rang. Seeing that it's your father, you declined the call.

Irritated with the interruptions, you then turned to the marketing team, "Have this project approved by the finance department as soon as possible. Then prompt the booking department so we won't get overwhelmed once the promo's been released."

At that, the marketing manager wrapped things up by giving synthesis and informing you that the minutes would be forwarded to your secretary.

You were skimming through your emails when Taehyung rushed down the stairs. He's now dressed up with shirt and trousers, looking troubled. His keys were in his hands as he told you, "Your mom's in the hospital."

Your heart dropped at the news. "What? What happened to her?" you asked him, frantic. Your mother has a healthier lifestyle. She had these planned meals prepared by her dietician, she wouldn't sleep later than 10 pm, she regularly goes to her yoga sessions, she's more careful than you.

Tears sprang up in your eyes as you asked, "Is she fine?"

Taehyung sighed, "She was being rushed to the hospital when I talked to the security team."

"It was a car crash. The driver's dead, her head of security too."

The information made your knees wobble. Taehyung had to assist you to go in his car while you couldn't stop the tears from falling, blurring your vision. Questions flooded through you but you were too shocked to sort out your thoughts to speak them out.

The whole car ride was silent contrary to the beating of your heart. You're nervous, afraid, shocked, you were feeling all things at once for your mom that you failed to notice when Taehyung's phone kept ringing.

He declined every call that showed up on the dashboard. He just focused on bringing you there safely. Broken out of your own thoughts, you texted your father with shaking hands. Telling him that you heard the news and that you're on your way now.

When Taehyung's phone rang again, you disconnected it from the dashboard and answered his phone yourself.

It's Mrs. Kim calling.

"Yes, Mrs. Kim. We've heard of the news. Taehyung is driving me to the hospital," you told her in the calmest manner you can muster but a hiccup escaped your mouth. You've been crying the whole time, devastated by all the bad things that could happen to your mom.

"Darling, stay strong. We're also on our way. Tell my son not to rush, okay?" she sweetly said, her voice laced with worry.

When you ended the call, Taehyung told you to turn his phone off. You didn't protest and followed his command.

By the time you arrived in the hospital, press people were already there, all of them are held up outside, being guarded. When they saw Taehyung opening the door for you, they immediately ambushed you with questions. It angered you when you heard them asking about your upcoming wedding and whether your mom's accident would affect the plans.

You gritted your teeth in anger as you did your best to ignore them. It's insulting how those people would take every opportunity they could to butt in at such private matter. Your mother's in the hospital, fighting for her life, for god's sake.

The guards cleared a path for both of you while Taehyung protectively held you by his side as you walked in.

You found your father standing outside the operating room, he was pacing back and forth. Upon seeing you, he went up and gave you a pat as if saying everything will be alright. It was a weak convincing on his part when he himself didn't even look collected.

The waiting was excruciating. You didn't notice that you've been holding Taehyung's hand tightly. You let go immediately upon realizing this.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, gulping.

"It's okay," he simply replied.

#

The doctors ran more tests on your mother when she failed to wake up after 24 hours. The accident caused her a brain injury and she was diagnosed with hypoxia. She's now in a coma and it could take a few days or few weeks for her to recover. The doctor told you to prepare for the worse, but you couldn't fathom a worse scenario than this.

Your feud with your father was put on hold as you almost spend every night with your mom. You would go to the office in the morning then to the hospital late in the afternoon, continuing your work in her room. The time you'll only go home is when you're reminded by your bodyguard which was assigned by Taehyung himself.

It may be deemed unnecessary but as investigation is being conducted, the Kims cannot compromise your safety. Their security company, among of their others, was the one in charge with your family ever since, including your businesses. The accident happened under their watch, but as of now, no one is to blame. Yet.

For your peace of mind, you even hired a private investigator on your own, meeting him discreetly as much as possible.

It was already six in the evening when Mr. and Mrs. Kim knocked on your mom's suite. You gathered your energy to come up with a smile, but it only crossed your face halfway.

"Darling, are you taking care of yourself?" she greeted worriedly, pulling you into a hug. You were surprised when you saw Taehyung.

After the operation, his parents left first but he stayed. Feeling burdened about it, you thanked him and told him to go ahead.

Sitting at the receiving area, 2 meters away from your mother's bed, you gathered the unkempt papers laying on the coffee table.

"Sorry for the mess," you uttered.

Then opening the topic, you asked, "Is there any update on the investigation?" turning to Mr. Kim.

The latter exchanged a look with his son before saying, "The truck was hi-jacked and we couldn't trace the driver yet. We looked into CCTVs but the team couldn't find anything."

You let out a sigh. It was the same report you got from your hired investigator this morning.

"There has to be someone behind this," you muttered, looking over your mother. The tubes attached to her body pains you. Sorrow crossed your eyes as you wished you could take her place.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Kim added, "I talked to your father about this. It could take a lot of time before we figure things out because, if ever, he himself has a number of opponents up his sleeve."

This is the first time someone actually attacked your family. Threats were a common thing, but no one dared to lay a finger on you, your mom, and your dad. Though your security is always prepared for this kind of scenario.

Chuckling bitterly at the thought, it looked like they weren't.

The question that's been bugging your mind is why now?

Is it because he's running for the next presidential election?

If that is so, why was your mom the target?

Aside from the situation at hand, the vacancy in the board left by your mom as the chairwoman is stirring ruckus. You haven't issued any announcement yet, but others are asking about her condition.

The stocks surprisingly didn't take a hit at the news of the accident. If there is something that bothers you more that you think will be harder to handle, that would be the board of directors of your holding company.

Simply put, they're still doubtful of you.

You glanced at Taehyung, who is sitting to your right across his mother. The second he met your eyes, you immediately averted his gaze, clearing your throat.

"Thank you for taking care of my mom's case personally. It makes me feel more at ease," you told them in a nonchalant manner.

"Don't mention it," Mr. Kim said.

With fidgeting fingers, you started the question you've been meaning to know about, "I would want to visit the family of her driver and head security-"

"You can't," Taehyung interrupted, making you snap your head back to him.

"It's not safe," he added when he saw your furrowing brows.

"There's no need, Y/n. Your father sent something for them. They understand the situation," Mr. Kim followed.

You didn't utter a reply, if they wouldn't want to divulge that information, you can have your secretary look for it. You could go there yourself, it's not as if they need to give permission.

Besides, who would think of attacking you in a simple funeral? They won't think you would have the heart to pay attention to those who worked for your family.

Still, you feel bad about the loved ones they left. They could have a daughter like you.

They protected your mom, they've done their duty, and you're sure if your mother is only conscious and well right now, she would've done the same or maybe more.

Taehyung let out a loud sigh, "I'll come with you,"

The man quite knows your stubbornness. He witnessed it first-hand and your loaded gaze somewhere which signals that you're deep in your thoughts made him agree to have it your way, but under his watch.

#

You glanced at your car through Taehyung's side mirror. Turning back your attention to the man beside you, you wonder why you're letting him have his way. Based on your interactions, it's as if you embraced the idea of him being your husband. So far, he's been reliable and respectful of your own space. That's what you thought of him. And the night you spent together.

You cleared your throat at the inappropriate images that flashed your mind. Digging your nails to your palm, you reprimanded yourself.

The silence was cut off when a phone call went through his dashboard.

Lana calling...

Taehyung declined the call right away only for it to pop up again. He seemed irritated this time.

"It might be important," you muttered. He didn't reply and just dropped it, giving you a cold shoulder.

The phone dinged. You unintentionally gazed on his phone between the two of you because of the noise.

Call me. I miss you.

You then immediately turned your attention to the passing streetlights. You felt guilty that you've seen something you shouldn't have. At the same time, there's an underlying feeling that started to simmer within you.

The whole car ride was spent in silence until you reached your family's mansion.

Taehyung waited downstairs as you changed into something more appropriate for a funeral. Frankly, he could have just met you at the memorial but he insisted on going with you all the way back to your house. That's why you offered to ride with him while your driver and bodyguard followed behind. It was out of courtesy, which he didn't decline.

After changing your clothes, you went down right away, not bothering to check your appearance. However, as you trailed down the stairs, Taehyung was nowhere to be seen.

When a staff member passed by, you asked about the man you came home with. She then led you to your father's study.

The doors were closed and only faint mutters of two men in conversation can only be heard. It piqued your curiosity so instead of barging in like you did before, you slowly walked close to the door.

"... so I'm not marrying her," you heard him say, his voice dark and cold. The pain that wretched your heart upon hearing those words shocked you. Your eyes welled up inevitably despite willing yourself to control your dam of emotions.

A dead silence followed his statement.

You should have been thankful of him giving up on you. And by him talking to your father directly like this, the old man might even consider cancelling the marriage you dreaded. You should be grateful, but all the more, Taehyung's sudden change of mind on the matter confused you.

You wondered if there's something wrong with you. Did you do anything that turned him off during the time you spent together in his family's cabin?

Does he have someone else?

That thought fired up jealousy you did not think you could harbor.

"I can make her change her mind, Taehyung. Just let her warm up to you more. That would help," your father sternly told him. Your brows knitted in further confusion.

"She thinks she will be marrying me for the wrong reason. Y/n's not ready."

Your tongue tastes vile in his reasoning. He even had the guts to use you as an excuse. If you only know, it might have been because of your family losing control of your company due to your mom's condition. He might think that being married to you will only be an unnecessary responsibility when he can take over by himself. Maybe he's using this opportunity to run off and be with his lover.

Lana

The name flashed in your memory.

You felt bitter. No one dared to reject you in your years of existence. If not, you were the one who used to run away from men who expressed their interest in you.

How dare he?

Before you knew it, pride took over your being as you carefully opened the door.

With a smirk on your face, you asked Taehyung, "Who says I'm not ready?"

"Tae?" you said in a sweet voice. You feigned your innocence and soft demeanor, but only vile venom coursed through your system. No one rejects you. No one will take over the empire your mother built alongside with your father. You will secure your power. You will make sure everything will fall into its place.

#

Two nights after, he fetched you from your house to have your first public date. He booked a table in a grand hotel downtown for the whole thing and told you beforehand to dress casually. So for this night, you opted for a white broderie long sleeve minidress.

"We just have to put up a show, right?" Taehyung asked, his tone bored, while cruising down the road. You nodded, then you realized his eyes are on the winding road, he can't see you. "Yeah," you muttered.

The white outfit is ironically in contrast with his. He's in a black suit, looking elegantly casual. Thanks to the turtleneck sweater. This guy has some good fashion sense, you noted. With his perfectly parted hair, he looked exquisite.

You didn't dare to ask him why he thought of backing out from your marriage. He didn't care to ask for a reason on your sudden change of mind.

"We can continue with the prior arrangement. Let's get married," you followed through after sweetly calling his name that night. The statement sounded like a challenge as it rolled off your tongue.

Taehyung just gazed deep into your eyes. His face was void of any emotion. In a flicker, you saw his jaw tensed in irritation. He glanced down the floor before a faint smirk appeared on his face.

"If that's what you want then."

You were taken aback at his acceptance. You expected him to protest, but he surprisingly went on. Taehyung turned to you father then gave the man a curt bow.

"It's getting late. Y/n and I should go so we can come back as soon as possible," he said to your dad. "Have a good night, sir."

The old man slowly nodded, "Take care of her."

"I will."

You never dreamed of being a slave to this powerplay. You thought you have enough guts to not go down that path, but here you are.

Going back to the present, you threw Taehyung a glance, observing his side profile. The passing lights casted shadows on his face, illuminating his eyes, highlighting the point of his cheekbones down to his nose. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw when he turned away as he navigated the car to a left turn.

You wondered whether you'll learn to love this man. Yet again, you're afraid of him not reciprocating if that happens.

Taehyung handed you a jewelry box when you reached the foot of the hill.

"Wear it," he simply said when you opened the box.

It's a tiffany ring adorned with a diamond stone. The halo setting framed the center diamond, making it look bigger. It's beautiful, but too 'in-your-face' for your liking.

With a sigh, you wore it unceremoniously on your left ring finger. You glanced at his hand that was on the steering wheel, looking for a ring. It was hard to see in the dark but you quite glimpsed a glint of a metal.

You swallowed the bile you felt in your throat. The whole ride was silent after that. Only the smooth running of his car's engine can be heard.

Arriving at the hotel's driveway, you didn't wait for him to open the door. The action earned an irritated look from him. Taehyung gave his car key to the valet attendant before holding your waist, startling you.

He leaned towards your ear and whispered, "This better not look like our first date,"

"Alright?" he asked through his teeth.

From an outsider's perspective the picture looks sweet, but if they can only hear the threat in his voice...

You noticed few people were staring, recognizing the both of you. Feigning a smile, you touched his arm. Despite the high heels you're wearing, he still stood taller that you needed to look up.

"Of course, Tae," you said to him, your voice dripping like honey. He replied with a half-smile before leading you inside.

The two of you graced the foyer like a power couple. Curious glances were thrown and few whispers flew around. All the while, Taehyung didn't care and just walked straight.

You smirked to yourself when the receptionist led you to the middle table in the restaurant. The stage for tonight. However, the table is set for four.

Taehyung pulled you a chair then sat beside you.

"Are we expecting somebody else?" you asked him.

"My friends will join us. I haven't seen them since I arrived home and they're insisting to meet you. I didn't notice your dress is too short," he said all the while scrutinizing you. You glanced down but you were fine with it. So, you shrugged him off. You're more bothered that he invited his friends over on your date. Not that you want to be left alone with him.

Taehyung turned to the waiter who stood by your side. Putting an arm at the small of your back and casually placing one hand over your lap, he ordered the waiter to come back later once the others had arrived.

His closeness made it hard for you to breathe. You muttered silently, "Don't you think you're touching too much?"

He smirked at your question. "I touched more than this, princess. Want a reminder?"

The boldness in his voice made you blush.

"Don't look. A board director of yours is here," he said in a low voice before fakely fixing a strand of your hair.

His ring band gleamed under the chandelier lights. A simple intricate design carved into the metal.

He looked you in the eyes and said, "I guess that's a good audience, right? One credible person to confirm the news around."

You can't help but chuckle, "You and my mom would make a good publicist," you silently uttered as you placed your left hand on his shoulder, smoothing down the fabric.

"That's fair. I admire your mother for handling your family's image. Works so much in favor of your father, don't you think?"

You smiled bitterly at that. He's right. Your mom's a good homemaker too while maintaining a respectable figure in the business world.

"You should've told me your friends will be coming," you muttered, changing the topic. You're more nervous now that others will witness this whole fiasco at a much closer distance. Then you asked, "Do they know that this is all pretend?"

His jaw tensed as he answered a firm no. "So, you better act whipped for me," he added. Scoffing at his command, you retorted, "I can't be easily whipped, Taehyung."

A low chuckle escaped his mouth. "Right. But you're my wife, so..."

You glared him down. You're not yet his wife.

He just raised a brow at you before staring back. His eyes piercing through. He's too close like this. You're already blushing at the distance, but you didn't want to back down.

"Kim Taehyung!"

Turning to the sound of the voice, two men were making their way to your table. One of them is familiar. You didn't know Taehyung is friends with Park Jimin, a famous celebrity. After side-hugging Taehyung, he offered you his hand.

"Y/n, nice to see you again," his voice teasing. You reciprocated him with a friendly chuckle and acknowledged him, "Park Jimin, it's been a long time."

"I hope your mother gets well soon," he told you with a gentle smile. It tugged warmth in your heart, the guy is charming as always. "Thank you," you replied.

Taehyung watched the friendly exchange with a careful gaze. You turned to him lovingly, starting your act for the night, "We see each other in some function events. You haven't told me you're friends with him, Tae."

His other friend then stepped forward. He has an ebony hair, his doe eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, "I'm Jeon Jungkook, it's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/n."

You shook his hand and repeated his name for you to remember, "Pleasure's mine."

The dinner looks pleasant. Although you were uncomfortable with the lies that have been spewing out of your mouth. You let Taehyung take care of you though you can very much well slice your own steak. It was a challenge not to roll your eyes out of absurdity.

"When's your wedding, Y/n?" Jimin asked in the middle of the meal.

You were caught in surprise. You haven't talked about it yet, you just handed the task to your secretary yesterday.

"The soonest," Taehyung chirped in.

Jungkook's eyes widened a fraction while Jimin just grinned at Taehyung's answer. The younger then asked, "Before the elections?"

That subject was an open secret that no one talks about. Instead, you replied, "Soon as we settle things, we'll send out invitations."

"So, you started preparations already. It's sad that you'll go through this alone, given your mother's condition," Jimin stated. You sent him a reassuring smile.

"It will be fine. I have people to do stuff for me," you told them.

"As long as we'll get married. I'm pretty chill with the details," you added. For it is true. If you could skip the wedding ceremony, you would. Those moments are reserved for a true special someone, but the situation is different for a woman like you.

You thought you should give your secretary a raise. The morning you asked him to contact a wedding planner, he gladly accepted the task. He knows your taste so you let him fix most of the things.

You did not even ask Taehyung for opinion since he left the details to your care. He only had one condition: the soonest, the better. You remember him telling you when he was driving back to your house that night. That night when you started this million dollar show.

#yandere x y/n #kim taehyung #btsv #btsfanfic

[caribou-stories]

Ni-ka-wi (My Mom)

Today is Mother’s day and I will be honouring and celebrating my late “nikawi” with a meal and traditional hand drum song. It has been 3 years since nikawi travelled back to the spirit world. During the month of May and leading up to, I am reminded of her power and sacredness. Sometimes it hurts a little too much, but I revere her memory to the best of my ability. She loved it when I sang particular songs at home, so that’s what I continue to take care of my spirit. The grief around losing your first home is unexplainable. You have to lose it to understand it.

The influence she has been in my life so far has been humbling. She raised me to be loving, free, and gifted in wealth. She catered to the artist that dwells inside of me, and so have the matriarchs before her. I remember one summer trip we took up in the Timmins area. We were living in Sudbury with my grandparents John and Sarah at that time. The drive up to Timmins, Matheson onto Kirkland Lake was memorable to say the least. I must have been about 13 years old and our original plan was to go to one of our first Sundance lodges that came to Northern Ontario, so we can visit relatives visiting from being away for so long. The highway was peaceful and we enjoyed ourselves, listening to Def Leppard and laughing the entire way along. Once we arrived to Matheson, which is a very small town, we were greeted by a vast dark sky and some casual lamp posts here and there. We were a little shook that there wasn’t anyone really in sight, except a few workers from abroad at a small motel. Nikawi drove up to these folks and began asking, “do you guys know where Nitaskinan is? It’s a place where we have ceremonies”. She was so spunky and had a good set of interpersonal skills. When she worked at a hot food deli, she never cheap-ed out on the wing sauce or cheese on the pizzas for her customers. Everyone remembers her for her wit and charm. Now days, I have a good chuckle revisiting that time she asked some non-indigenous folks for directions to our ceremonial grounds because although they has not the slightest idea of where to point us, one of the ladies kindly guided us to the OPP station nearby for some help. I guess she wanted to exude the same kindness nikawi approached her with. But, we were too shy so we decided we would be back, and kept driving onward to Kirkland Lake. Turns out we had relatives staying at an elders’ home there since the hospital in Attawapiskat flooded. Nikawi’s now late aunt Maniashin (Angela) and late uncle Eli, along with one more elder I cannot recall, were there and we were going to go visit them. 

Upon our arrival that late evening, we almost did not find a place to stay. Luckily, there were two hotels in town and we managed to get a room. I remember feeling unsure of the situation we found ourselves in but, very safe in nikawi’s care and protection. In the morning, we got some Mcdonald’s and proceeded to check out where the elders’ home was. She asked me to navigate some directions by mapping a way there while we had some free wifi. Once we found the right place, I remember arriving onto the floor with my mom, being mindful of the hospital like finishes on the railings and wallpapers. It was nice, well kempt. It was a small floor but nice, very intimate and homey. Nikawi bee-lined to the nurses station and asked where we could find Angela and Eli. I followed her to their room and saw a face resembling my Gookum Sarah very much. Her light hazel or blue eyes, matched with a light grey haircut that fell to her shoulders. With her cute button nose, and ever warming smile, I met my great-aunt Maniashin (Angela) who was my Gookum (Grandmother) Sarah’s older sister, and Eli their older brother. I was named after my Gookum Sarah (my mom’s mom). I listened to their conversations during that afternoon, enjoying our beautiful language. I’ve never felt more safe than around my grandparents who only speak ininimoowan (Cree). These days, I can keep up with conversations but less than I could as a child. I wish I could converse in proper ininimoowan. 

After a bit, Eli and nikawi went somewhere he needed her assistance. I sat with Maniashin for a few moments until she began asking me things about myself. When she asked if I make anything with my hands, and I said eh heh (yes). Her eyes lit up and smiled a beautiful grin. I told her I made gloves, beadwork, slippers, and other artistic crafts. She then began to share, once you’ve been making these things for so long, you won’t be able to do it anymore. Your grandmothers and I cannot do these things anymore because of our bones. You need to carry this tradition on, just like all of your grandmothers (Angela, Sarah, Madeline, and Pauline, all sisters and my maternal grandmothers). You’re young and you’re able to do it, so keep doing it. Don’t forget about what you have now. Over the years, I’ve begun to understand how important that means, like really means, not just to me. Nikawi always nurtured my artistic abilities by always providing me with crafts like markers, paper, paint, crayons, and then a miniature sewing machine, small pieces of fabric, and then more onto beads, leather, and good scissors. Since I had grown up in the care of Nikawi and my Mooshum and Gookum (Grandfather and Grandmother), I was very fortunate that I could spend moments of my childhood watching and learning about what Gookum was making. She was often crafting up nibagan (goose down blanket) bags made out of heavy duty canvas and doubled down straps, or hemming a pair of goose-beaded moccasins bigger for my younger cousin who’s now at a staggering 6′8′’. 

My Gookum Sarah has always played a big role in passing along knowledge and skill to me. I remember when I was making my first pair of gloves. I used Gookum’s beadwork and based my work off Maniashin (Angela’s) semi-completed glove. The leather pieces were complete except the lining and fur. All the materials were given to me by my Gookum. I had such a hard, testing time with the lining. Little did I know, Gookum advised Nikawi not to try to help me because getting frustrated is a part of the learning. I would figure it out, and I did (to the best of my abilities!). I must have put a few solid days of work into these gloves. Upon completion, I showed my grandparents and mom my first pair of gloves. I was rained with kisses, hugs, and excited laughter. Gookum taught me how to braid the 4 strand yarn strings for the gloves, something that a lot of Omushkego folks have on their gloves or mitts so they can hang off the shoulders. I was especially excited to learn how to make the signature pom-pom tassels. Ever since that day, I always showcase my completed projects to somebody. 

My Gookum Sarah wearing the gloves I just completed assembling. 

Rounding back to the story, we stayed in Kirkland Lake for 2 days and it was a powerful experience to watch my mom be with our elders. During our time with our elders, nikawi took care of their needs. There was no hesitance, she just did what she needed to do. She fed our elder relative her food, and made her tea while she conversed with Eli and Maniashin. The lunch hour was full of laughter, head nodding, and sitting together. One last elder we payed a brief visit on our way out, was an elder nikawi held in high reverence. I cannot recall which elder this was. She described him as this influential, outspoken leader-man she had grown up looking up to. When she would describe him, I imagine how he looked like as a young man while we were in the elevator. Strong, tall, lean, wearing a weathered outdoorsmen coat, beaver pelt hat, matched with jeans or tough twill, and footed with traditional winter moccasins that wrap around the ankles and shins. When we arrived on his floor, we saw him sitting in a chair and nikawi began to greet Mooshum. He was very elderly now. I watched and smiled, then she began to shed some tears. He comforted her and held her hand. It was a powerful exchange to witness.

Nikawi was a Personal Support Worker in Fort Albany, so she spent a lot of time taking care of elders for years. She still worked while she was pregnant with me and she told me that the elders loved to greet me and acknowledge the journey I was making into this world. Her gift as a care taker was out of this world. Our departure from the Elder’s home was bittersweet as that was the last time we saw Maniashin. We attended her funeral a few years later. Eli then passed years on later. I’m grateful to Nikawi for bringing me to visit them with her. Afterwards, we trailed our way back to Matheson to find the Sundance grounds, and we did. During the last day of the ceremony, we enjoyed time with our relatives and spent some time in the lodge. We received healing from the Horse and Contraries. The following years, I would return to the grounds to be with family and the lodges. 

All in all, I will always miss Nikawi, my mother, my first home. I will always be grateful for all the things she did to help me find my path as a young person. And, I’m grateful for those elders who shaped her to be the fierce mother she was to me. The resilience she had fostered within me is incredible, regardless of how challenging and painstaking the lessons near the end of her life were, she still taught me the rawness of love and caretaking. The story of Nikawi’s passing will wait until a later time; I’m lucky to have chosen her to be my Mother, even if it was for a short time. She still visits me in my dreams, and I miss her.

Nikawi wearing her purple sweater from her sister, Maniashin (Angela) wearing a blue cardigan, and our elder relative in the bottom left of the photo.

Eli and Nikawi speaking about land in ininimoowan. When Eli passed, I imagined him flying in the sky with the stars. 

Nisakihetin dushineh mama. 

Kindly, 

S

#mother's day #remembering our moms #elders #wisdom #unconditional love #traditional crafts #matriarchs

[meteora-writes]

We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.3

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter Warnings: Blood, Mild Gore?, Violence, Angst, Drama, Sharing a bed Chapter: 3. Solve The Mystery (Of Laceration Gravity) Description: Hannibal has to give Will a few stitches once they make it somewhere safe. Jack and the others watch the video they find on Dolarhyde’s camera. Authors Notes: So the chapter title was what I almost named the fic. This chapter contains canon violence. Read on AO3

~~~~~Read Ch.1 or Ch.2~~~~~

Will takes the drive slowly at first. Getting a feel for the old motorcycle and how it moves like an extension of his body. Figuring out when to slow it down or give it more gas, shift his weight in such a way that lets him keep control without tipping over. And he has to account for Hannibal being on there as well, be mindful of how much lean to put into a turn and how to steer so as not to make the ride uncomfortable for either of them. A wrong move could send them both tumbling, and that’s the last thing either of them needs. It helps him to think of it more in terms of a boat than a bike in that respect.

He’s also trying hard to be mindful of their surroundings. Scanning along the sides of the dirt road for any lights peaking through the woods from a possible search party. Any signs of cars coming their way in the distance. It’s a fairly bright night thanks to the nearly full moon. That with the headlight of the motorcycle makes it easy enough to do so without worrying he’ll miss something as they follow the dirt road that cuts through the trees and make their way back towards civilization.

Hannibal is a solid presence against his back. Body molded to Will’s with his arms snugly around Will’s waist. It keeps him grounded. Able to breathe and focus despite the pain and slight disorientation that still clings to his frayed senses.

After what feels like forever they see the highway ahead. Will kills the headlights and engine, then slowly rolls up to the edge of the treeline to get a look in either direction. The road is clear, and he takes off his helmet before turning to Hannibal, who lets his hold on Will slip for now as he mirrors Will’s actions.

“Which way?” Will asks as he looks to the road again. He remembers the way they came to get to Hannibal’s home in the daytime. But he has no idea which direction that is from here or if they’re even on the same side of the bay anymore, given that the bluff Hannibal’s home sits on wasn’t surrounded by dense trees or a close to sea level as this area is. And he figures Hannibal must know the area well enough to know where they should go from here.

“To the right,” Hannibal says as he follows Will’s gaze and studies the empty stretch of highway before them. “I have a few secrets yet the FBI was never able to uncover, despite their best efforts. We should follow the highway north towards Elkton. There is a cabin on a remote road there we should be able to rest in undisturbed.”

“Just how many homes do you own?” Will can’t help but ask a touch incredulously. He isn’t really that surprised that Hannibal has multiple homes. Not after seeing the life he’s lived. Or the castle he grew up in. It just seems strange to have so many only a few hours drive apart.

“Several, but this particular one is not one of my own. It belongs to a former patient. It was left to him many years ago by his grandfather. Despite his disinterest in nature, he couldn’t bring himself to part with it. So he pays a caretaker to maintain the property for him. Assuming he keeps them on the same schedule, it should be vacant for another month before someone is due to come for the spring cleaning,” Hannibal explains before he puts his helmet back on. He keeps the visor up as he leans in and wraps his arms around Will’s waist once again. “Shall we?”

Shaking his head, Will puts his helmet back on before getting the engine started once again.

They pass FBI vehicles about half an hour later. A line of them going with lights and sirens blazing driving down the opposite side of the highway at full speed. No doubt headed to Hannibal’s seaside home. Both men feel a spike of anxiety at the sight of them, Will feeling it much stronger than Hannibal of course.

He half expects at least one to cut across the median and chase them down. It’s a ridiculous fear. The stretch of highway they’re currently traveling on is actually quite busy for the time of night, and there are maybe a half dozen cars driving on their side along with them when the agents pass by.

Will can feel Hannibal relax against him the farther they get from the bay and those agents. It’s strange. That he can be so at ease given everything that has transpired in just a few short hours. But then again Hannibal has always been one that takes in the chaos around him and instinctively goes with it like it’s something as normal as making a little extra food when you hear another guest will be joining for dinner. It’s one of the things Will finds fascinating about him.

It’s close to dawn by the time they reach the private road leading to their salvation. The moon has long since disappeared behind dark menacing clouds that roll with the increasing wind of an oncoming storm. It makes Will feel all the more grateful to be getting off of the roads now. He feels ready to pass out again. And the sky looks like it’s ready to open up and pour buckets of freezing rain and possibly even snow.

The cabin is small. So much so that Will would almost argue that it was a shed and not really a cabin. It’s a single room. There’s a kitchenette tucked in the back left corner, a queen-size bed taking up the back right. There’s a worn leather couch to the right of the door. A wooden table at the center of the room with two matching chairs. And a dresser and fireplace to the left.

“Cozy…” Will mutters jokingly as they enter. It’s cold inside. Not as much so as outside, but still below fifty degrees at least from the feel of it. He rubs his hands together. Trying to warm them. He got a pair of cheap gloves when they had stopped at a gas station along the way in an attempt to save his fingers some potential frostbite. It was one of those little locally owned ones that don’t have shit for security cameras or pay you any mind so long as you don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.

Hannibal had gassed up the bike while Will purchased what he could without drawing too much attention. In the end, they left with some cans of soup, a first aid kit, painkillers, ramen noodle cups, bread, peanut butter, half a dozen bottles of water and juice. He even snagged a few packets of disposable cutlery from the deli area when he grabbed a few sandwiches last minute. It made them look like they’re just getting an early start to road trip so they could beat the storm. This is exactly what Will said from behind the anonymity of his helmet when the old man behind the counter commented on them being out so late when there’s a storm coming.

“I admit, it is not what I had expected,” Hannibal confesses as he steps into the cabin behind Will and closes the door. He carries a duffle bag in with him. They had taken it from the beach house. Their bloodied clothes and towels stuffed inside along with some more clean ones and the supplies Will had purchased at the rest stop. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine. It’s someplace safe and out of the elements, that’s what’s most important,” Will notes as he makes his way over to the fireplace to check if they have what they’ll need to get it lit and warming the place up.

While Will works on getting a fire lit, Hannibal takes the time to set their belongings out on the table and inspect what supplies Will acquired for them. “How is the wound in your mouth?”

Will blinks over his shoulder at the older man before hesitantly taking the bloody roll of cotton from his mouth. The taste of blood is still strong. But he can’t tell if that’s because of the blood trapped in the gauze, or because he’s still bleeding. His whole mouth feels wrong and he can’t distinguish saliva from blood right now. “I’m not sure,” he admits, carefully swallowing to try and get rid of the taste without possibly dislodging any clots that might have formed in his wounds. “I feel like I survived an appointment with the dentist from hell.”

“How fitting then, that our Dragon was formerly known as the Tooth Fairy,” Hannibal jokes lightly with a tired small in Will’s direction as he continues to lay their supplies out on the table.

Will can’t help but snort a laugh in response and give a lopsided smile of his own. Because he lined himself up for that one. “Why do you keep calling him ours?” Will asks as he gets a bundle of kindling he threw together haphazardly lit and set under a few logs.

Hannibal beckons him over to take a seat at the table then.“Does that bother you?” he questions as he pulls a small flashlight from the duffle bag and places a hand on Will’s uninjured cheek. He uses it to gently guide him to tilt his head back and open his mouth so he can get a look at his injuries.

“No… It just seems… Odd, I suppose,” Will concedes before doing as Hannibal wants. It’s hard to have his mouth open so wide. The way it pulls the stitches in his cheek is uncomfortable on top of the still-present pain. The gash in the roof of his mouth appears to have stopped bleeding but his tongue still oozes a bit. Not surprising given how profusely tongue injuries will bleed.

Hannibal tuts at the sight and lets Will close his mouth before turning away to inspect the contents of their first aid kit. It has a set of angled tweezers. That with the needle and thread he took should allow him to at stitch the few places that really need it. “He was brought down by our joint efforts. He came to kill us both and we left him a bloody mosaic of our own design. In a way, does that not make him ours?”

A small part of him wants to argue with Hannibal’s reasoning. But he can’t deny the truth there. It’s twisted. But beautiful. Art made of torn flesh and moon-black blood. The memory of it sends a shiver down his spine and he has to close his eyes a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”

Hannibal’s small smile grows when he sees Will’s reaction. “Your wounds will require a few stitches in order to heal properly. In both your tongue as well as the roof of your mouth. Do you think you can stay still for me while I do that?”

Blinking open slightly worried blue eyes, Will nods and looks around the cabin. “Maybe I should lay down for that.” He can admit he isn’t a fan of getting stitches. And the idea of getting them in his mouth with no kind of anesthesia or real pain medication to take the edge off is a tad unsettling. With the current state of his nerves, he’s likely to pass out or have an anxiety attack in the middle.

“Of course,” Hannibal agrees. He takes a step back from where he stands in front of Will and gestures for him to go lay down by the window where the light is a bit better.

The couch is comfortable. Soft under Will’s back as he lays down so his legs are up on one arm and his head is against one of the cushions. He finds himself rubbing his fingers against the worn leather. Forcing himself to focus on the feel of it and not his building anxiety at what’s to come next.

“Try to stay calm. Breathe only through your nose if you can. And if you need me to stop a moment raise your hand to let me know,” Hannibal instructs in a surprisingly gentle voice. He can see how close to the edge Will is. It’s understandable given everything he’s been through. And having to suffer through something like this when you just want to curl up and sink into unconsciousness has to be incredibly daunting.

“Raise my hand, right, got it,” Will repeats with a small nod before tilting his head back and closing his eyes tight.

Unable to help himself, Hannibal reaches out and runs his fingers through Will’s hair. The action earns him a surprised look from wide blue eyes. “It will be over quickly. Four stitches in total and then you can rest,” he does his best to be reassuring to him as he runs his fingers through Will’s hair again, this time letting his nails gently scratch at his scalp in an attempt to further calm him.

It works, and the tension evident in Will’s entire body is lessens just a little. It’s better than Hannibal had been hoping for, and he takes another moment to comfort Will like this before getting the supplies ready.

While he waits, Will goes back to focusing on the feel of leather beneath his fingertips. Tries to draw comfort from the phantom feel of Hannibal’s fingers combing through his hair.

The first stitch is actually the easiest. Each after feels like it’s taking longer to complete. He hates it. It only takes about two minutes. But they feel like they stretch on forever as Will holds his eyes closed tight and breathes through his nose against the pull of nylon thread and sharp metal going through his flesh.

When Hannibal places some new gauze in his mouth and says they’re finished Will opens his eyes to find tears collecting at the corners of them to run down his cheeks. He blinks them away, letting himself take a shaky breath through his mouth before he sits up to see Hannibal cleaning up after himself.

“Thanks,” Will says weakly. He feels exhausted. Shaky. Ready to pass out.

“Get some rest, Will. I’ll put away our things and make sure we have enough firewood to get us through the storm.” The look he gives Will as he speaks is one of understanding. No pity. No judgment. Just the understanding that Will doesn’t handle things the same as most other people do and that sometimes it gets to be a bit too much.

“You should get some rest too,” Will counters as he shucks off the leather jacket he’d been wearing while being mindful not to pull the stitches in his shoulder.

“I intend to. I won’t be long, I simply want to make sure we’re well prepared,” Hannibal says with a glance past Will to the window behind him. The storm is almost upon them. Wind howling angrily and making the trees outside sway and groan. There was a pile of wood beside the cabin that was covered partially with a blue tarp, but who knows how dry any of it is. There are two other pieces left by the fireplace, and that won’t last them if this storm lasts more than a few hours.

“Alright, just… Be careful. It’s getting really bad out there,” Will finally says after a beat of silence passes between them.

“Of course,” he agrees with a nod before setting their first aid kit aside and reaches for his jacket, which he had taken off before getting Will stitched up. “You should take the bed. It’s likely to be more comfortable than that sofa.”

Will snorts at that and shakes his head slowly. “You should take the bed. You were shot in the back. If anyone deserves a real bed to sleep in it’s you,” he counters with a tilt of his head and narrowing of his eyes in challenge.

Hannibal tilts his own head in turn, eyes narrowing slightly at Will in much the same manner. “I do not suppose there is any argument I could make right now that would persuade you to take the bed, is there?”

“Probably not.” They both are injured, yes. But Hannibal was shot in the back. He remembers trying to sleep on his own after being stabbed as a cop and it was uncomfortable at best. Trying to sleep on something like a couch with a bullet wound can’t feel any better.

“Then might I suggest a compromise? We share the bed? It is big enough for two. And I would argue that the added warmth would do us both some good right now,” Hannibal suggests, words carefully chosen. He can see the gears turning in Will’s head. Know’s he’s considering the fact that they both could have frozen to death hours mere ago and then rode a motorcycle through the night in freezing temperatures. They’re both cold and both still susceptible to hypothermia.

“Fine…” Will agrees after a long beat of silent deliberation.

Hannibal feels himself relaxing at Will’s agreement, and with that, he zips up his jacket with a nod. “Get to bed, Will. I won’t be long,”

Will watches him step outside, door slamming closed behind him from the strength of the howling wind. He forces himself to stand, wincing at the way his head throbs with the changes in pressure the simple movement causes. He feels like he has a migraine but with the pain amplified times ten thanks to the crack in the roof of his mouth the knife no doubt caused as it broke through.

He grabs the bottle of Ibuprofen he had bought at the store and dumps four of the little blue gel caps into his hand before downing them with a few swallows of water from one of the bottles Hannibal had set out.

All of their supplies, with the exception of the first aid kit, are arranged as if Hannibal had been taking stock of them. It’s oddly reassuring seeing everything together like that. But also a little worrying that they have maybe a week’s worth of food if they don’t eat 3 times a day every day.

Pushing the thought aside, Will makes his way over to the bed where he sits on the edge with a tired, somewhat pained groan. It’s a fight to get his shoes off, the laces giving him a little grief where the dried sea salt in them has made them stiff and unwilling to move.

By the time Hannibal comes back inside Will is under the thick blanket that covers the bed. He faces the wall, curled up in such a way that makes him look much smaller than his 5’10” stature. He’s asleep by the time Hannibal finally climbs in beside him under the blanket, and he subconsciously rolls over and curls close to him. Seeking warmth and comfort that Hannibal is happy to provide even if he thinks Will is likely to be embarrassed by it when he wakes later.

He can’t seem to be bothered by the thought, though. Too bone-tired and pained to do much more than scoot a little closer and let himself doze off to the crackle of the fire and the steady breathing of the other man beside him. Even in pain, it’s the most comfortable and content he thinks he’s been while falling to sleep in possibly his entire life.

~~~~~

Jack paces the room as he waits for the techs to get the footage from Dolarhydes camera set up to be watched on a projector in the crime lab back at FBI headquarters. It had recorded something. The entire small reel of film used up well before they arrived on the scene.

“Sir, it’s ready,” one tech says as they finish setting the projector up.

“Start it,” Jack says with a nod, one hand coming up to rub at his chin anxiously. He watches the screen on the opposite wall from his place at the back of the room. There are half a dozen other agents with him all seated in wait, plus Zeller and Price who of course wanted to know what happened.

The film starts with a close-up shot of Hannibal, laying on the blood-stained carpet as he holds his right side. His sweater and hand are stained with shining wet blood from an unseen wound, and he’s visibly breathing heavily. He speaks to someone behind the camera after a moment, but there’s no audio.

“Why isn’t there any sound?” Jack asks in annoyance with a glance to the two techs that had set things up.

“There is none, sir, the filming was done with an older type of film used for silent movies,” one tech informs him with a look of concern to his partner.

“Then get me someone that can read lips, now!” Jack orders without another look to the tech, his eyes glued to the screen.

Hannibal glances up and to the right of the screen, looking at someone, most likely Will since Dolarhyde is likely behind the camera. His expression is serious. He looks towards the camera again a moment later, expression shifting to one of almost concern before he looks up to the right one more. The camera shakes and Hannibal grimaces as if he’s just seen something clearly unpleasant.

The camera shakes again and after a long moment of Hannibal looking to the left of the screen, he suddenly is rolling out of frame in the opposite direction. Something, likey his foot, connects with the tripod, and the camera spins and falls to the floor. It’s now facing sideways out the shattered bay window. It gets a view of Francis Dolarhyde grabbing Will Graham by the shoulders from behind where he kneels on the ground near the center of the courtyard.

The image is a touch out of focus, but Will is clear enough to make out and it’s obvious from the look of him that he is covered in blood. There’s something sticking out of his cheek, and it’s only when Will grabs hold of it that Jack realizes it’s a knife. He was stabbed in the face. Possibly what Hannibal reacted to behind the camera before knocking it over.

Will swings his arm back, impaling the knife in Dolarhyde’s leg, making him throw his head back and shout before grabbing hold of it himself, and in one quick motion, removing it only to bury the blade deep in Will’s right shoulder.

Hannibal reappears on the screen then. Now minus his coat, giving a clear view of the back of his blood-stained sweater. Making it clear he was shot clean through the abdomen, which fits with the gun, spent shell, bloodied coat with a single bullet hole, and the bullet they pulled from the wall of the home.

He moves quickly despite his obvious injuries. Launching himself onto Dolarhyde’s back just as the other man had pulled Will back towards him once more. Hannibal appears to wrap around him in an attempted grapple, only to be flipped off the man’s back to land on his own to roll across the courtyard and out of frame.

Dolarhyde stalks after him a moment later, leaving Will on his hands and knees with blood pouring from his face and mouth.

Will is visibly shaking, and as Dolarhyde walks away he pulls the knife from his shoulder. He forces himself to his feet just as Dolarhyde pulls Hannibal back into the frame.

Dolarhyde holds Hannibal by the throat, with Hannibal struggling to grab him back in the same manner. He can’t appear to get a grip, though, and despite them being roughly the same height Dolarhyde appears to be pulling Hannibal off his feet.

Staggering, Will moves, lurching forward to stab Dolarhyde once in the lower back, making him drop Hannibal. Will manages to stab him once more in the side just below the ribs before he’s backhanded across the face and sent tumbling to the ground once more.

Dolarhyde turns once Will is out of the way, kicking a prone but quickly recovering Hannibal in the chest to make him roll back just out of the frame once again while Will struggles to regain his senses from being hit.

Hannibal appears in frame partially as Dolarhyde turns his back, swinging a hatchet to catch the Dragon in the leg, making him cry out. Will lunges forward then, stabbing him once in the opposite leg before he loses his balance falls back to the ground. Hannibal swings the hatchet once more, catching Dolarhyde in the leg again and causing him to stumble to his hands and knees a moment. He forces himself up again a beat later and staggers to the center of the courtyard. Hannibal taking a few steps closer as Will scrambles to get a few feet away.

Hannibal appears to be holding his own considering his injuries, able to stay on his feet for the most part where Will’s strength appears to be waning quickly and keeping him mostly on his hands and knees.

Dolarhyde manages to get to his feet without even swaying before turning to face Hannibal once more.

Hannibal appears to look past him to Will, making Dolarhyde turn away to look as well. When Dolarhyde turns in Will’s direction Hannibal pounces, wrapping around him much as he had before in a grapple that he this time is able to maintain. One hand goes to grip Dolarhydes’s hair and pulls his head back for Hannibal to lean in as Will lunges forward with the knife.

They’re turned away from the camera. But everyone already knows what must come next. Will drags the knife across Dolarhyde’s stomach, gutting him as Hannibal rips his throat out with his teeth.

A second later Hannibal and Will both fall away as Dolarhyde stands another moment, blood spurting from his wounds as he sways then collapses to his knees.

Will and Hannibal back away from him. Hannibal forcing himself to stand as Will pulls himself up to an almost sitting position with the help of a small bench on the far edge of the courtyard.

A moment later Dolarhyde collapses and falls back. Dead in a pool of his own blood.

Will holds up a blood-soaked hand a moment later, looking at it as he says something with a look over to Hannibal, who is barely staying on his feet now. He sways and staggers to keep standing. When Will reaches his bloodied hand out in his direction, Hannibal steps forward without hesitation and takes it. Helping him to his feet.

They’re close, but standing at an angle so Hannibal’s face isn’t in view of the camera. Not that it would matter with how far away they stand now. The camera wasn’t focused to be filming anyone so far away, as they’ve stumbled closer to the cliff’s edge and father from the house by now.

They’re both shaking, swaying dangerously. Likely ready to collapse. Will, whos head had been tilted down as if looking at the ground, lifts his gaze to meet Hannibal’s, and then they’re both moving closer. It’s hard to tell with how out of focus they appear, but it looks like they’re holding one another, with one of Will’s hands gripping Hannibal’s shoulder visibly while Hannibal wraps an arm around Will’s waist to pull him in close. Then Will’s hand moves and his arm wraps around Hannibal’s neck making it clear they’re in an embrace. It’s an intimate scene, to say the least. Clearly not just the two of them seeking support anymore.

The sight of it fills Jack with anger. At himself for trusting the man. And at Will for so obviously lying to him about his ability to handle this objectively.

There’s an audible gasp from more than one of the other agents in the room as they watch the two turn so that now Will is back to the camera for the briefest moment before they fall together off the edge of the cliff.

“Murder-suicide?”

“Wait, were Graham and Lecter lovers?”

“Did he push them off the edge?”

“There’s no way they survived that fall!”

“The closest beach is over half a mile away! There’s no way they swam that far in those temperatures!”

“Not with that amount of blood loss they didn’t! They both have to be dead by now.”

“ENOUGH!” Jack bellows, effectively silencing the chattering agents. He looks around the still darkened room, eyeing each and every one of them. “Keep your speculations professional here, people. I want additional divers out there now. As well as addition coast guard and our own boats. I want them found, now. And somebody give Molly Graham an update. She deserves to be told in person what’s happened to her husband.”

“Sir, the storm is already hitting the coast pretty hard and it’s only going to get worse. I’m not sure it’ll safe for anyone to be out there much longer.” The tech from earlier is the one to speak, concern on his face mirrored by those around him.

“Then get more people combing the nearby beaches and woods while there’s still visibility! Search summer homes and along the highway too while you’re at it! I don’t care what the weather is doing, I want them found now!” Jack shouts angrily before storming out of the lab to go back to his office. He has a lot to think on and several calls to make.

Read Chapter 4

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal x will #will x hannibal #hannibal lecter x will graham #will graham x hannibal lecter #blood #gore #sharing a bed #there was only one bed #angst #stitches #hannigram #murder husbands #we could be perfect one last night

[in-sempiternam]

okay I'll play nicely... I'll just pick numbers at random because idc I want to know everything... soooo 10-20 for Vernat, 30-40 for Levi, and 60-70 for Onimaru. Yes. I think that's all. FOR NOW.

LMAO, thank you for asking, and thank you for being humble (FOR NOW)! Without further ado, answers under the cut:

10. How many people have you had sex with this year? Details not necessary but feel free to divulge if you want.Vernat: *frowns at the question, like for real, that’s his first question?* I took a chastity vow several years ago, and so far I’m keeping it up. The vow, that is.

11. Would you consider yourself strong and/or powerful? If so, why? If not, why not?Vernat: Both, yes and no… the path of life I chose to go, requires a person tobe strong in their body and their mind. There is no room for ever doubting myown strength in these terms and it is of advantage to have and objective andhaving faith in doing the right thing. But there are things on this path, thataren’t meant for a sound mind to be seen… and sometimes I don’t know how tobear it all, other than to numb the last remaining sane corners of my mind.

12. Honestly, has anyone seen you in your underwear the past 3 months?Vernat: Not that I’m aware of.

13. Have you ever rebelled against authority? If so, what did you do?Vernat: I did. I gave back the land my grandfather and my father had stolen and I killed my old chapter master and his accomplices, that abused their younger acolytes. I always will stand up against everyone, if I see someone abusing theirauthority. And I expect no less from others, should I ever abuse mine.

14. What person, place, or thing have you most wanted to destroy?Vernat: This system of exploitation and everyone who is willingly contributing to it.

15. Who in this world do you hate the most (IF you hate anyone)Vernat: I do not hate. It poisons the mind and restricts a person from makingresponsible decisions.

16. Do you have any family members? List them.Vernat: The only one left is my younger brother.

17. Do you like your family? Do they like you?Vernat: We had our quarrels, when father died. But I convinced him to change his mind about certain things and we get along by now.

18. Do you consider any of your friends’ family?Vernat: Yes. I have been friends with Amistad (Inquisitor Mortiferus) since we were children, and I consider him a brother.

19. Do you have pets? What are their names?Vernat: I don’t. Although there is a stray cat, that I feed and that likes to sleep at my place at night. I just call them “Cat”, however.

20. If you do not have any pets, do you want any?Vernat: That would be rather irresponsible of me. I’m not a suitable caretaker for a dependent creature.

30. Are you interested in anyone?Levi: *chuckles* In which waayyyy?

31. Which should be saved – a bus full of innocent lives or a loved one?Levi: Wow… I guess, saving several innocent lives would be the morally superior choice, while saving a loved one is inherently more selfish. You’re asking really big brain time of me here… I’m not a very moral person, but I also wouldn’t consider myself selfish. And I don’t have a loved one either, so I can’t really give an answer here, that would reflect the reality of the situation, should I ever happen to be in it.

32. You meet someone who has killed someone and done time for it. Does this factor into how you treat them?Levi: *laughs sarcastically* Given that most people in my life have killed someone, probably both rightfully and wrongfully and also both did and did not face any consequences for it… I don’t think I’m in any position to judge anyone or treat them any different for whatever they did in their past.

33. Is it better to hurt other before they get a chance to hurt you or let yourself be walked all over and hurt by others?Levi: Uuuhhhh… I guess it should probably be avoided to even get that far… like, emotionally… just walk away, before it escalates like that. I wouldn’t mind being walked over in a more literal sense, though *laughs*  

34. Can people be held accountable for things people close to or related to them have done or are they innocent?Levi: *inaudible moaning* Why did I have to get the big brain questions? Ugh…just ask me things about nipple piercings or something *chuckles* I don’t really think about things like that and barely have an opinion about it.

35. Would you sacrifice yourself for the good of everyone else?Levi: Uuuuhhhhh…no. Last time someone did that, it didn’t really do anything but cause more conflict. “The good of everyone else” doesn’t exist.

36. Is lying to others to gain their approval more important than being genuine and hated?Levi: I don’t like that there appears to be only approval or being hated. Youcan be genuine and people will still like you, if you’re not acting like a dickabout it. Like, wow… such a black-and-white world being painted here. Did my sister write these questions?

37. Have you ever contemplated killing someone? Who and why?Would you ever act on it? Are you frightened you might?Levi: Nah, I didn’t. No idea, if I’d act on it, if I did. My family didn’t bring me up with a lot of boundaries on the matter… so I guess, I wouldn’t be frightened I might.

38. Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else (physically or mentally)? If so, who and why? Did it scare you?Levi: Mmhhhh… no. I’m a masochist, I don’t have fun hurting others. Has to be the other way around for me. *laughs softly*

39. Have you ever done something morally wrong? Do you regret it?Levi: Ooookay, just in case this isn’t clear yet: half of my family is trashwith questionable morals, so it’s very likely that I did and do a lot of thingsthat may be considered morally wrong and I do not feel a single ounce bad about it.

40. What’s your favorite food?Levi: And somehow, this is now the odd question out of the bunch *chuckles* Icould snack on Churros all the time, which is probably why I’m a fat fuck, but I don’t care.

60. Do you get along well with others?Onimaru: For most of it… I would say, I am pretty laidback. Not difficult to deal with.

61. Do you have any enemies?Onimaru: None that I’d know of.

62. Are you satisfied with your life?Onimaru: I’m not trying to be philosophical about it, but I am genuinely not sure, if this is still considered a “life”… … *shrugs* It probably doesn’t matter. I have my best friend by my side, I don’t have anything more to ask for.

63. You just heard very juicy information about someone you hate. Do you spill the tea?Onimaru: I’ll play along, and pretend there is someone I hate – in that case, I don’t care about any information about that person, so telling my anything, is completely lost on me.

64. Drama is going on. Do you grab the popcorn and watch it unfold or just ignore it?Onimaru: I ignore it. I don’t want to be associated with things like that.

65. Someone tells you rumor about a close friend. Maybe they started it, maybe they didn’t ( you aren’t sure). What is your reaction?Onimaru: Hm… I would perhaps ask them, why they are telling me that. Because I genuinely don’t understand such behavior. Should the rumor turn out to be true, I will learn it from the person it concerns, if I am in a place to know it.

66. You have collected all the change in your house or apartment and have found 2 full jars of pennies. What do you do with it?Onimaru: *a gentle amused smile crosses his lips* I would be surprised we have that much money, and ask Yuki if he knows where it comes from. Then bring it to the bank to exchange it for paper money and see how much it actually it is. I doubt it would be more than five bucks, though.

67. What’s your most valuable possession? Did you get it yourself or was it a gift?Onimaru: My friendship with Yukio is most valuable to me, and I would say, it’s partly something I got myself, and partly something I was gifted.

68. What is the worst nickname anyone has given you?Onimaru: Eeehhh… I don’t know what is going on behind my back, but usually people just call me Oni for a nickname.

69. What is the best present you’ve ever received?Onimaru: Oh… that goes along with the question above. I don’t care much about material things, I don’t even know what they look like… ehm, so the relationships I have with other people, are the best things I can have.

70. What would be the best possible way you could die?Onimaru: Heh! *makes a sound that is located somewhere between scoffing, coughing and laughing* I did die the best possible way I could at the time: on a battlefield with my sword in my hand. It was a good death. It should have been the end. Now I’m not so sure, whether I am alive or dead, and if I can die, which way would be the best. I came back for a reason, but I forgot my purpose… I think, the best and probably only way to die again, would be to remember what brought me back, so I can fix it… and then I guess, I would just vanish and go to the other side for good. Hm.

#OC ask meme thingie #Vernat #Levi #Onimaru #lazysunjade

[englishmemoirthing-blog]

Memoir Project

Preface

I am not a parent. I will be one of these days to my own children, but at this point in time, I am not a parent. I am a sister. I am a first-year college student, studying nursing with the goal to become one of the best and most experienced nurse practitioners out there. I like to draw and I’m a pretty amateur singer. I am an 18-year-old who still drinks juice boxes and eats microwave chicken nuggets for lunch. I am not one to take on something that is too big, mostly because I know from experience. I am not what you would define as your typical parent. I’ve never even had children of my own. And yet, I was handed a cranky 4-year-old at the prime age of 10 years old, and I call her my kid. She is my child, even to this day. I am not a parent, but when it comes to my sister, my one and only source of happiness, I am one.

The Initiation

         I’m sitting in between my sister’s bed and my own on the floor, playing with my dinosaurs when I hear the loud banging on the front door. I immediately look up from my imaginary Jurassic world, knowing that in my 10 years of living in that house that no one ever knocks on our old, broken down front door. I sprint up around to the back door of my mom’s room leading to the living room to see who our loud, new guest could be, but by the time I get there, my grandmother is being pushed aside by the police barging into our house. I could see their police cars blocking our driveway and in the road by in front of our house through our front door, now left wide open. I watch them as they head out of my sight, towards the hallway to the kitchen, which I promptly circle around using the back entrance.

         I jumped up onto my grandparents’ old armchairs, through a large window looking into the kitchen. I remember slipping a little bit, making me giggle a little while I got back up. However, the sight that I saw once I got up wiped my tiny, innocent smile off my face. I watched as the police took hold of my father, handcuffed him, and started to recite his Miranda rights. My heart sunk to my stomach, and all the noise in the room started to fade around me. I then looked to my right to realize that my 3-year-old sister, who had climbed up onto the chair next to mine, was trying to see over the window, just as I had been doing. I calmly and quietly climbed down from my perch on the chair, pulled my sister away from the window, and quietly led her back to the room we shared. I shut the doors so she couldn’t escape, then sprinted back to the front of the house. I had just missed the cops putting my dad into the police car in our driveway when my mom came up to me with a look of utter disbelief on her face. “Can you please go get your father some clean pants to take with him before he leaves”? I stared at her as if I was waiting for her to laugh and tell me that she was joking. When that moment never came, I slowly turned around and ran to my dad’s closet for the pants. When I got back to my mom, she yanked the pants from me, almost knocking me over, and walked out the door. I wanted to follow her, but something was holding me back (in due time, I found out that my grandfather had held me until everyone left the driveway). My mom didn’t come home until about 2 in the morning. I had to figure out how to feed my baby sister without my mom or dad helping me. And sure enough, this continued on for the next 5 years after my dad got arrested. This was my first day of becoming a co-parent to my sister.

         Every mother can attest to the hardships of motherhood, from birthing the child to watching them leave for college, nothing is easy for parents these days.  However, being the child having to take care of one or more of your siblings makes it 10x harder, especially if your parents are still around, but are too caught up with everything else to worry too much about taking care of the kids. And this isn’t me trying to bash my parents or the thousands of parents relying on the older siblings to help with the younger ones, they do the best they can with the circumstances they are given. I wanted to share my story considering that there are thousands of others out who could possibly relate to my experience. Each situation is unique and some definently had it worse than me, but speaking on behalf of myself and all the other older siblings out there that had it somewhat like me, raising a kid when you’re still a kid can either the worst thing or the best thing for your childhood.

         There are a plethora of things that I have learned from becoming a co-parent (which is technically between two divorced parents, but my parents agreed that we could call all three of us to be co-parenting), but the most important thing I could’ve learned is the art of patience. From the start of my parenting journey (awful word to use but I’ll work on it) to now, my patience threshold had risen to levels that still make me wonder how I was ever impatient with anybody. If I had a dime for the amount of times I held my tongue when my sister would back talk me or throw a tantrum, I could go into early retirement (and I’m only 18).

    The Struggle

         Ever since my father decided to make the mistakes he made that ruined our family dynamic, I’ve been left to be my sister’s primary caretaker. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve had to help her with homework, and the amount of recipes in my head that I have from having to scramble to make for dinner is more than I’ll ever need. From getting her to 7:00 am theatre practices to following her and her friends around the mall for hours on end, I’ve made sure that she still gets the childhood that was taken from me. And in doing these things and having to be there for her, it triggered this unexplainable love for my sister that I have never (and probably will never) experienced in my entire life. She is the most important person in my life and my absolute favorite person on this planet. I would do anything for my younger sister, and at times I have had to make sacrifices so she could be happy, but I was more than willing to do them for her. My school schedule is solely based off of when I need to be home to get her from school or make sure she’s not at home alone for too long. In about two months, I’ll be getting her first and middle name tattooed behind my ear. She has become my whole life, the one person I could not live without. And yet, she is also the person that gets to me the most. She’s the only one who knows exactly what button to push to make me a certain kind of angry. She knows every single thing to say or do to get her way with me. She bends every rule in my rule book and uses that against my parents now that they take care of her more with me. She learns from everything my parents and I do so she can use it for the future. She’s the smartest, yet most annoying and manipulative child I’ve ever met. And I bet many parents (or siblings with the same case as me) could say something like that about their kid as well.

I’ve come to learn very quickly that guardians are the most predictable human beings ever, knowing from myself and my parents equally. We use the same punishments and same phrases when talking to our children or telling them right and wrong. We say the same lectures when the kid runs with scissors or tries to touch the hot stove or telling them not to talk to strangers. Everything is the same with us, mostly because kids tend to have a hard time learning from certain things, but we tend to prepare what we want to say in certain situations in order for them to understand. We want to be ready for the worst of the worst, for the stuff that will stick with them in the long run. The first time they go out with friends by themselves, the first time they stay home alone, their first boyfriend or girlfriend. Looking into the future at that stuff is scary, so we prepare something that is going to get the point across, but still give them room to learn in a safe manner (whether we know it or not).

         Another harsh truth of childcare is the no sleep thing, especially when they’re little. She always had a hard time sleeping in her bed, so I let her sleep in mine when I first started taking care of her. My only problem with it was that she tends to sleep like a starfish and kicks like a horse in the middle of the night if you get too close to her. I was constantly covered in bruises, and the bags under my eyes looked like they weighed 50 pounds. It went on for about a year before I found a good way to kick her out for good. One day she started crawling in with me, and at one point I started to apologize. “What are you saying sorry for?”, not knowing the horror she was about to endure.” Oh, not much, I just thought you should know that I farted in my bed a minute ago”. She never stepped foot in my bed after that.

  The Aftermath

         After being a tired, baggy-eyed witness to my parent’s divorce, and they finally stepped away from the problems they had with each other, they finally started to help with me with my sister. Of course, they had their struggles considering by the time they started pitching in, she was around 8. They didn’t have too much experience with the madness that is my sister. Frankly, they didn’t really know her personality all that well. So, in a very awkward and weird set of conversations with my parents, I began to teach them the ABC’s of how to raise a little girl who wants to become president or a lawyer some day at the age of 8. I taught them her little quirky things like not to question her when she names her stuffed whale Jefferey, or not to correct her when she says deodorant like de-do-dar-ant because she knows the correct way, she just wants you to correct her so she can laugh at how concerned you get when you correct her. However, the most important thing I taught them about her is that she is one of the most individualized people on the planet, and she will always try to do everything by herself first before asking. The last thing she wants to do is ask for help, but I taught her when to realize your capacity for doing something and that it’s ok to ask for help sometimes when you really can’t do something. And the last thing I wanted them to do was to undo everything I taught her because it didn’t fit with how they wanted her to be.

At times they wanted her to be something she wasn’t, like the time my mom wanted to put her in gymnastics even though all she wanted to do was play in the pit with all the foam blocks every time she went. My dad had an easier time accepting everything, maybe because he felt bad for missing out in the first place, or because he wants the same things I want for her. My mom never felt like she did anything wrong, so she came back into it as though she already knew her. However, after a while she realized that the 4 year old she used to know was not the same as the smarter, more independent child that was in front of her. Even to this day she says my sister scares her, because she never got used to the fact that there’s a good chunk missing from her memory of my sister in the time she was chasing my dad around everywhere and going to court all the time. She learns something new about my sister every day, even as an 11-year-old middle schooler who wants to join the volleyball team and is constantly mumbling internet memes to herself to make herself laugh.

Now, my parents and I both equally split the work of raising our tall, very strange 11-year-old girl. Sometimes I take her all the way into Katy for school in the mornings in exchange for one of them to go and get her or to babysit when I want to hang out with a friend or something. And in some ways, they pay me back for all the lost time. Both pay me whenever I go out with her to buy dinner, but my dad gives me more freedom when it comes to going out with friends or my boyfriend or someone. My mom still likes to think she was there all those years to cope, so the most she’ll do is not fight with us when we want to have fast food instead of meatloaf. They both, however, have grown into the whole parenting thing, and both love how my sister turned out in the end.

My time with her was long and hard, and sometimes I think I lost apart of myself as a kid that I know I won’t get back. But I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world, because I gained something so incredible and I gained so many good things I can use for my own children someday. I’d go back and do it all again if I had the chance. I’ve learned so much, and I’ve become someone my sister is going to look up to while she grows more into who she is. And I hope one day I can show her this, so she knows our past a little more and can understand why she is who she is. Because in a way, she lived out the part of my life that I lost, and for that I am eternally grateful.

[wandering-jax]

Voodoo - Part One

“Your usual?” A gruff voice in a creole accent asked. I cut my gaze toward the voice. A look I had given him for the past two years, every third week of the month, around this time in the evening. The old man poured me a whiskey neat and had number two ready. He knew my name even though I’d never given it. I had made my way through the city block by block but always ended up in the French Quarter. Lafitte’s to be exact. Just two blocks from the home I purchased not long after landing here.

It was January of 2017 when I touched down in New Orleans. The information on the flight log from three days prior showed the time the jet landed at the municipal airport just outside the city. It sat on the tarmac for exactly 48 hours before it took off for home, in Vegas, minus one passenger. The only passenger.

Money had been exchanged to keep it from my ears but that only lasted as long as the plane was in the air. The moment the doors opened and only the pilot and steward disembarked, I knew. How did I know? I was there, watching from inside the hanger, unprepared for the surprise news the pilot gave.

“Mr. Kingston, Madden isn’t on the manifest. He didn’t come back and didn’t give a reason. I was told when we landed that you were unaware.” The pilot said before shooting a menacing look at the steward who was already inside the glass doors and nearly running for the exit. “Do you want me to stop him?”

“No. When is the last time you physically saw Madden?” I asked.

“Not since we arrived in Louisiana two days ago. The crew changed as you know and the new guy who just tore ass out of here told me upon landing that you didn’t know the plane was empty.” The pilot held my gaze which spoke volumes to how honest he was. Besides, I paid him well to keep me informed at all times. No matter what.

“I see.” My eyes moved beyond the weary lines around the pilots eyes to the jet sitting on the runway still. “Give me a moment before you put her away, understood?”

I had searched that plane from top to bottom. It was if Madden had never been on it. Which led me to New Orleans to find out for myself. What I found was a littering of clues that led to various possibilities. None of which I liked.

The bar was relatively empty this evening but in the dead of summer, it wasn’t a rare event. The heat coupled with the humidity made the air feel as if you slid it on like a coat. I hated it. My skin itching for the dry climate of my desert. I tapped on the bar to signal it would be the same and a glass with three fingers of Bourbon was slid over to me.

“My grandson might be able to help you.”

I looked up to see the silver haired man staring at me, “I don’t remember asking.”

“Maybe not but you need the help, Mr. Kingston.”

I swallowed down a drink and the glass hit the bar with more force than necessary. He knew my name even though I’ve never offered it to him. In fact, the only ones to address me by any name were those who are in my employ while in town. That was the entire reason behind buying the home under the name of a smaller company I own. The realtor, my barber, and the assistant I hired to keep up the home were the only company I kept. I stayed silent.

“He drove the man you’re looking for from the airport to a home just outside of the city. But you don’t care,” he said flatly. The old man went back to rearranging the same bottles he had fiddled with not five minutes ago as if he hadn’t thrown out the bait for me to snap onto.

“Fine.” I shrugged him off. I had been in this bar too many times to count and he had never once addressed me outside of his ‘what’ll it be’ and now he has a grandson who happened to know where I can find Madden or at least a solid lead while I’ve been chasing my own tail this entire time. The rage settled in my gut nicely while I continued to nurse the drink in front of me.

“Don’t let him dangle that carrot for too long, he enjoys the chase,” a voice behind me uttered. I didn’t make a move to look, there was no need, whoever is looking for me had found me. “Seriously, Pops doesn’t mean any harm. I came to him when I saw you in here last month. Name’s Nik.” The man stuck out a hand and I turned my head to the side to see who was encroaching on my personal space. Tall, dark hair and eyes, yet unconventional in his handsomeness. I ignored the hand but nodded to the chair beside me.

“Let me guess, the grandson who happens to Uber for a living?” I cut my eyes over to the man who was now seated beside me. He didn’t look uncomfortable there either. The bartender sat a cold beer in front of him and left us alone.

“That’s me but not an Uber. A friend of a friend.” Nik swallowed a drink from his beer.

“I see. And who is the friend?” I asked.

Nik shook his head. “Not an important part of the story, Mr. Kingston. But I do know where he went and how long he stayed until going ghost.”

The way he said my formal title made my skin crawl. “My name is Jax, Nik. Please refrain from calling me anything else.” I finished my drink off and signaled to the bartender I was done for the night.

“When you remember the friend that you so kindly helped out, let me know.” I set a matte black card with my name and cell number in red on the bar in front of Nik. “But not until then. Have a good evening.”

“1012 Royal St. You acquired the home from a well known family and hired Louis Parker as caretaker when you go home to Vegas.” Nik spoke with certainty. “Madden came home nearly three years ago and you’ve been looking for him ever since. I can help but only when you want it. Jax.” He said my name as if he’d said it before. As if we were friends.

“I assure you,” I began but when I turned around Nik was gone. His grandfather looked unaffected by the rush disappearance and was dealing with another wave of tourists visiting the historical bar. That was my cue. I was by far a local but I also wasn’t wearing a ‘The Bride’ sash or a horde of brightly colored beads either. I felt a familiarity in New Orleans that only grew with each weekend that I spent here. The rich history, the slow pace compared to the neon glow of Vegas, the warmth of her people. And the architecture. From the high, wrap around balconies to the moss covered stucco, the columns and nods to the victorian era, it wasn’t hard to fall in love with it.

The unknown was part of the charm of New Orleans or so I thought. It was easier to get lost in ghost stories and vampire lore than the dramatics beginning to unfold. Uncertainty and I were not good bedfellows.

Once at the house I left the ground floor parlor to the quiet of the second floor where Louis concentrated on the MacBook perched in his lap, stocking feet up on the century old coffee table, stark white headphones keeping my presence concealed for the time being. He was in his twenties, I think, I couldn’t recall the exact number but when I hired him …. I didn’t care. It was his shoulder length dirty blonde hair and sapphire eyes that held my attention at first and then his attention to detail, which came later. I could be quite shallow. Right now Louis was laser focused on whatever was on the screen, his eyes flickering back and forth as fast as his nimble fingers.

I left him there for now and went up one more flight to the second largest of the rooms. It wasn’t the Master but it was the one with the best view. Having lived above The Strip for long softened me to street noise and lights. It made anything less almost impossible to sleep next to. So as the street music crept through the open balcony doors I let my thoughts drift to Nik. A stranger who happened to find me at exactly the right time, in the right place and say the right things. I was unnerved. I should have brought a pet with me. Kloe. One of the house submissives. Anyone.

There was a breaking point for everyone, including me and I had reached it.

“Louis!” I shouted. “Upstairs. Now!”

#TheRedDoorsWrite

[rockindragonz]

Home Is Where the Taaco’s Are

Angus McDonald would never allow himself to be a burden on anyone, so he tries to make it on his own following the Day of Story and Song. He ends up in an orphanage with too many kids, too few caretakers, and too little money. When Taako and Kravitz find out, they will not let that stand any longer.

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 4333

Chapters: 1/1

Read on Ao3

No one really talks about what they saw, or rather didn’t see, that day.  It's never mentioned when the Day of Story and Song comes around.  For many, it is a day of celebration, but, for many more, it is a day of mourning and loss.  So many died to the monsters before anyone could see them.  So many husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, children and grandparents.  Everyone knew someone who had died without being able to see their attacker, all they felt was blood spilling from them by the gallon.  What they do talk about is the story of the seven birds and how courageous and wonderful these people were.  They talk of the Bureau of Balance and some speak of Carey, Killian, and Angus who had the privilege of fighting beside the old adventurers.

Its weird for a while for Angus.  Going to school and trying to have a normal life all while being so related to the seven people who saved countless realities.  When he’s first recognized on the street as Angus McDonald, member of the Bureau of Balance, he is in shock.  People crowd him and ask him so many of questions about the IPRE crew that he loses track of them.

For the crew, the year immediately following the Day of Story and Song was the hardest.  Taako and Kravitz had rushed headfirst into their relationship and had spent as much time together as possible.  Magnus began to rebuild Raven’s Roost after the destruction it had faced.  Lup and Barry joined up with the Raven Queen, so they weren’t around much.  Lucretia spent all of her time trying to fix all the mistakes she had made and created the Bureau of Benevolence to aid in repairation efforts.  Merle moved to the beach and became the leader of a city he now ran.  And Davenport all but disappeared off the map.

As for Angus, he no longer had a home.  He was alone once again, without a mother or father to speak of, and his grandfather’s grave had been destroyed in the attacks.  He applied to Lucas’s school and got in with no problems.  But now he was living in an orphanage where there were too many kids, not enough caretakers, and not nearly enough money.  Many children had been orphaned on that fateful day.  Despite everything, Angus found himself happier than he had ever been.  He was learning new and challenging things and he was visiting constantly with Taako and Kravitz who lived so close to his school.  He was finally living the life a child deserves to live.  No one knew where Angus was calling home, no one even really knew that Angus had no family in Faerun that he could have lived with.  Whenever the subject was brought up, he changed it quickly with a dismissive answer and tried to focus on something not related to his living conditions at all.

That’s how it went for the first year.  Everything was calm and quiet and everyone had a new appreciation for life and love.

It's been almost three years since the day or Story and Song now and Angus is still in the orphanage.  Prospective parents have been few and far between for the orphanage this year and donations haven’t been large enough to support the displaced children so there wasn’t enough food to go around.  Besides that, Angus had some massive finals coming up that kept him locked in his shared room most days.  Those two things combined over the course of a month meant that Angus was starting to show some bone in his ribcage.  He was constantly hungry now, but he ignored it and continued working towards his goal of becoming as good of a wizard as Taako was.

His final for the year was held on the day before the Day of Story and Song, so the day after was when he finally found himself with enough time to once again visit Taako and Kravitz.  Normally the gang would gather in one house to celebrate and relate stories, but the party had been put off for a day or so because Davenport had gotten stranded briefly in some remote part of the world and refused out of dignity to let Kravitz help him.  Before knocking on the familiar wooden door, Angus hesitated.  He knew Taako was more on this day and he really didn’t want to bother him, but his decision was made for him when a surprisingly casually dressed reaper opened the door.

Kravitz blinked down at Angus twice before grinning ear to ear.  “Angus!  I was just about to head to the store to get some stuff for dinner, will you be joining us?”

“Oh, no sir, I wouldn’t want to bother you two, I know you’re both very-” he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach that caught him totally off guard.  The growling had stopped weeks ago but apparently the mention of Taako’s delicious food reactivated it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Go ahead and go inside, Taako is just in the kitchen getting some things prepared.”  Kravitz clapped him on the shoulder and stepped away from the wooden door and past Angus.  Hesitantly, Angus stepped into the warm home.

“Sir?  Mr. Kravitz let me in,” Angus said, calling towards where he knew the kitchen was.

“Angus, I’m in the kitchen, do me a favor and come give cha’boy a hand,” Taako responded.  Angus nodded to himself and dropped his book bag on the cozy couch that stood facing a lit fire.  He stared for a moment at the flames that licked up and around the logs burning, and he thought of Lup immediately as he stared.  Honestly, Angus was surprised she and Barry weren’t here; the twins were usually inseparable today.  Shaking his head, Angus walked to the kitchen to lend Taako the hand he had asked for.

“How can I help sir?”

“Just hand me stuff and put things I give you in the sink or something, I don’t really care as long as they get the fuck out of my way,” Taako said, passing him a dirty dish.  Angus nodded and dutifully placed it in the sink and ran the water to clean the bowl out a bit.  “Ango, gimme the salt.”  And so Angus did.  Things continued like this for a while, both of them existing in comfortable silence, despite the teasing that usually occurred at Angus’ expense.  Taako said nothing besides a few short words to indicate what he needed next for the recipe.  At one point, Angus got the feeling that Taako didn’t really need his help, he could tell in the way Taako would go to reach for something and then hesitate and ask Angus to grab it for him.  Honestly, Angus had no idea why the usually flippant man would allow him to help out, but he wasn’t complaining, anything was better than being stuck at that orphanage ny longer than he had to be.

“That’ll do boyo, we can chillax now and watch Fantasy Queer Eye if you want, though Krav might kill me if we watch a new ep without him.” Taako spoke loudly, almost as if he were trying to get someone else in the house to hear him, as he dried his hands off on a dish towel.

“Whatever sounds great to me sir!” Angus said with a smile he hoped was convincing.  The food he could smell that was now baking kept causing his stomach to growl loudly, but if Taako had noticed, he hadn’t said anything about it.  Taako plopped down on the couch in what Angus knew to be his usual place and waved his hand at the small TV above the fireplace.  A rerun episode of Fantasy Queer Eye came on, one where they were trying to help a gay man get a sense of style that he obviously didn’t have.  Occasionally, Taako would scoff at the clothing choices one of them would make for the client and he would mutter things like “Oh so you think you know everything about clothing, don’t you Tan?”  In these instances, Angus would only smile to himself in a fond way one would if one’s father was acting silly.

“So...how’re...things?” Taako said.  He had obviously grown bored with the rerun and was now trying to rope Angus into a long conversation about his life.

“Things are good, I am doing very well in school!”

“Yeah, no surprise there, boy wonder,” Taako said with a snort, “what are they feeding you over there anyways?  You look like skin and bone my dude.  I’m gonna have to take that up with Lucas and make sure that shithead is feeding you guys right.”

“There’s no need for that sir, I’m just...sick is all.”

“No, no, no, I know sick and this is not that,” he said with a scowl, “have you eaten a proper meal in the last few weeks?  I’m talking something other than a shitty ass school sandwich and a granola bar.”

“Oh sir, the shows back on!  I love this part of the episode, it’s so funny.”  Angus turned his face to watch the TV and rested his head in his hands, hoping to mask the bit of bone that had begun to show around his jaw area.  With no warning, the TV was shut off.  Angus turned to look at Taako only to be faced with a serious look that he had rarely, if ever, seen on Taako’s face.

“Angus, what is really going on?  I’m not a moron you know, I know malnutrition when I see it, and boy, am I seein it right now.”  Angus sighed and let his hands fall into his lap.  He was torn between telling Taako the whole truth and lying about his whereabouts and his food intake.  Lying seemed to be the better and less inconvenient option.  “Don’t bullshit me or I will get Merle to pop over here and cast Zone of Truth.”  Again, Angus sighed a deep sigh.  Taako wasn’t going to give up until he was satisfied with the answer, was he?

“Okay, well, I’m living in a home where they don’t have a ton of money right now and we haven’t been able to get much food together.  Most people have spent their money on the rebuilding efforts so donations are low.”

“Wait a second there boyo,” Taako said, his eyebrows raising rapidly, “donations?  What, are you living on the streets now?”

“No, I have a bed sir, I’m not sleeping on the streets anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Um, well yeah, after the Day of Story and Song three years ago, I had nowhere to go, so I was on the streets for a few weeks, but an orphanage took me in.”

“An orphanage?!  Are you fucking with me?!” Taako yelled, “You’ve been living in an orphanage with barely enough food, if any, for three fucking years and no one even bothered to check on you?”

“I didn’t want to impose on anyone, sir.  I felt wrong aking anyone from the BoB to take me in because I’m not their responsibility,” Angus said, voice soft.

“Well fuck that noise!”  Taako stood violently, knocking into the coffee table as he rose.  Kravitz chose that exact moment to enter the room carrying a small bag of rolls with him.  He looked from Taako to Angus and back with a look of total bewilderment.  Taako’s face was pure rage and Angus was sure his was one of fear and shock.

“What is going on here?” Kravitz said, his voice unnaturally calm given the current situation.

“Angus here hasn’t been telling us the whole fucking truth for three fucking years!” Taako shouted.

“What ‘whole truth’ is he talking about, Angus?”

“Ango here has been living in a fucking orphanage with nothing to eat for three.  Fucking.  Years.”  Taako spat.  “That shit doesn’t fly.  Krav, take us to the orphanage where Angus is staying so I can get those fucking adoption papers now.”  With those words, Taako stormed off to the kitchen.  Angus could hear some banging as he grabbed the dish out of the oven and dropped on one of the counters.  He heard Taako swearing a muttering to himself just loud enough that he could hear the noise, but couldn’t make out any of the words, he just knew that Taako was furious.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to make him angry Mr. Kravitz, I promise I didn’t, I’m just really tired and I’m not thinking straight and I couldn’t come up with a believable lie in time to tell him,” Angus said as he stood, “I just didn’t want to force anyone to take care of me, that’s-”  Before he could finish his sentence, he was wrapped up in a tight hug from Kravitz.  Despite Kravitz being dead and his skin being cold, Angus had never felt warmer in all his life.

“Angus, shhh, it’s okay, he isn’t mad at you,” Kravitz said in a soft tone, “he’s mad that he didn’t notice you were going through exactly what he and Lup had gone through back on their home world.”  Angus was stunned.  This information was new to him.  Of course, he could infer it what with how jumpy Taako seemed to get in a new place and how he always seemed to know the fastest exit out of any room, but he had never had such clear confirmation.  For a long while, they stood there, Angus wrapped up in Kravitz’s arms with his own down at his sides in shock.  It took him a moment to process all that was happening and, when he finally did, he felt tears begin to streak down his face.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Kravitz, who pulled him down onto the couch, never letting go of him for even a moment.  Kravitz combed his fingers through the thick and curly locks as Angus sobbed harder than he had in years.  Taako returned at some point and wrapped his arms around the other side of Angus, but no one could tell you when or exactly how it had happened, it just did.

Once Angus had finally calmed down fully, he pulled away from Kravitz, but was unable to escape Taako’s tight grasp.  It seemed as if Taako was unwilling to let go for fear that he might lose him or something.

“Don’t you ever do something like this again, okay Ango?  We are your dads now, and thats final.”  Taako spoke with such finality that Angus was once again overcome with emotions.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Taako’s neck and buried his face into it and found himself crying once more.  Not out of stress or fear but out of so much happiness that he couldn’t handle it on his own.  Taako was happy to oblige him, wrapping his arms tight around his magic boy.  They sat there for what felt like forever.  Kravitz eventually stood up and went to get something, and Angus faintly registered talking in a room a ways away, but he wasn’t coherent enough to process any of it.  After what felt like hours, Taako and Angus let go of each other and only stared.  Taako’s eyes were red and puffy just as Angus knew his were, but this was more of a comfort than anything to him.

“How’re you doing kiddo?” Kravitz said as he took his place on the couch once more.

“Better.”

“Good.  I just finished speaking with the lady who owns the shelter and she is aware that we are coming to get your things.  She sounded drunk.”

“I did some detective work while I was there and I think she knows that I found out she stole all the money we had for food this month to pay for her alcohol.”

“That would explain it,” Kravitz said with a laugh, “when we get there, grab your things and do not say a word to her.  Taako and I will deal with her and her employer.”

Angus only nodded in acknowledgement and went to stand up, but was stopped by a hand on his knee.

“Angus,” Taako began, “you are never a burden on any of us, remember that.”  His face was stone cold serious.  He hadn’t seen this look since three years ago when he was preparing to kick the shit out of Lucretia for lying to him.

“Okay.”

Once the three were calm and collected, they gathered a few bags and waited for Kravitz to rip a tear for them to travel to the orphanage with.  Upon their arrival, the woman was standing in front of the building with a scowl on her face.  She was yelling at a younger girl who was covered in mud.  Once she had been incredibly sweet and loving to all the children, but that was when people were giving all they could to the ‘poor little children who had lost their parents to the Hunger’.  Now she was bitter and mean and crude to all the kids she came across.  Taako cleared his throat as he stared her down.  She waved her hand dismissively and continued to berate the girl for getting her clothes messy, but Taako was having none of it.  He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to face him fully.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded before she laid eyes on him.  It was almost comical how wide her eyes got when she was Angus standing behind one of the seven birds.  She had known that he was related to them, but they never visited or even contacted him at the orphanage, so she thought they had forgotten about him completely.

“I’m Taako from TV,” he said.  And, with all the rage and anger he had pent up, he punched her square in the nose with all the force he had in his body.  Granted, it wasn’t much, but she fell backwards, out cold all the same.  Kravitz only whistled as she went down and the girl stared at Taako in awe.  Taako turned to the young girl and, with a wave of his hand, her dress was pristine again.  “Don’t hit people, kid.”  He gave her a genuine Taako (™) smile and strode into the orphanage.  Angus was left shocked with Kravitz by his side.  The man laughed quietly and shook his head, but followed after his husband.  Angus followed suit, trying to keep up with him so that none of the other kids would wonder why a Reaper was here with one of the seven birds.

When they stepped inside the house, papers were flying everywhere as Taako searched for the forms he needed to sign.  Kravitz nudged Angus towards the stairs and pointed towards where Taako was obviously beginning his search.

“I’ll help him, you go get your stuff, if you need me, just yell.”  Angus nodded and began the climb to the shared bedroom for all the boys.  He frowned as he got to the top and all the kids in his orphanage were hiding in the room.

“It’s okay,” he began, unsure of how to help the kids, “it’s just me.”

“She said to stay here and out of sight or else, so we did.  What’s all the commotion downstairs?” one girl said.  Her voice was soft, so Angus could barely understand her, but he smiled anyways.

“Taako is downstairs,” he said.  Before he could even finish speaking, the children were scrambling to get down there to meet one of the famous seven birds.  Angus was left alone in the giant room with only his thoughts and his stuff to grab.  He pulled a chest out from under his bed where he kept all of his things and began to unpack it and put it in the bags Kravitz had given him.  He took extra care to cushion his most valuable items: his spell books for school, his journal where he kept all of his detective notes, and a single silver spoon that had belonged to the set his grandfather had entrusted him with that he knew Taako and the other two had stolen on the train.  This spoon meant more to him than almost anything else he owned so he put it in the safest spot he could imagine.

With a smile, he looked around the room one last time, gathered his things, and went downstairs to tell the two he was ready to go.  It was no surprise to him that Taako had been surrounded by the children.  What was a shock was seeing Magnus and Merle there trying to act as decoys.

“Hey guys!  Look it’s me, Magnus Burnsides!” he shouted, striking a pose and flexing.  Immediately, all the children who had been surrounding Taako flocked to talk to Magnus who took it all in stride.  The attention was something that the three of them had gotten very used to in the past few years, so it was nothing for Magnus to be messing with a few of the kids and trying to lift them while Merle tried his damndest to even see over the sea of children.  It seemed that none of the kids noticed Angus follow Taako and Kravitz to a side room where they could hopefully have a moment to process everything.

“Thank you for getting those two for me Krav, I couldn’t handle those brats for a second longer,” Taako said with relief evident in his voice.  Kravitz only nodded with a fond smile to which Taako rolled his eyes.

“So, Angus, shall we?” Kravitz said.  He gestured to the desk where Taako and he had already signed the paperwork.  The ink was fresh with their signatures, but that of the orphanage’s owner’s was not.

“She must have signed all of the forms forever ago,” Taako said with disgust, “she wanted ou all out of her hair so badly, I bet she would have gladly given one of you to anyone with cash.”

“Sirs?” Angus said, voice small, “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course we are, Angus,” Kravitz said with a gentle smile, “we love you, and we want you to be happy.  Do you want this?”

“Absolutely,” Angus said with a gigantic grin on his face.  His eyes had gotten a bit teary and his vision was getting slightly blurred, but he was happy.  Taako handed him the pen to sign that he agreed to be adopted, and Angus drew his signature over the line with the biggest smile he had had in years.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of things.  Taako and Kravitz took him to the nearest city hall to turn in the paperwork and make it fully official.  The secretary there was shocked by Taako’s sudden appearance with a literal reaper’s scythe that dropped them in the middle of her office.  Once there, the woman only nodded in awe to the questions Taako asked.  When they brought up the lady in charge of the orphanage, the secretary shook from her stupor and began writing things down.  She assured them that the woman would be fired promptly and a new person would be instated as the caretaker.  Taako also insisted on making a hefty donation to the orphanages that fell under the jurisdiction of this city, to which the woman humbly accepted and tucked away.

“If I find out my money has gone to anything except the kids,” Taako spoke, his voice suddenly deep and filled with anger, “all hell will break loose.”  The woman only nodded, pupils blown wide in fear.  Satisfied his money would be used well, Kravitz tore open another portal, this one to their home.

As Angus stepped foot into their living room with all of his things in hand, it finally settled in his mind that this was real.  This wasn’t just a dream, this was actually happening.  He would be with a family, a real family, and he would finally be safe for the first time in three years.

“Your room is upstairs, I’m gonna heat up dinner real fast,” Taako said, all but sprinting away to the kitchen.

As if Kravitz could hear Angus’ concerns, he spoke, “Don’t worry about him, okay Angus?  He loves you, I promise, he’s just really bad at showing vulnerability sometimes.”  Angus nodded with a small smile.  He knew Taako loved him, he knew the trio loved him, because they teased him so often but they were also softer to him than anyone else.  Kravitz patted him on the head and started for the stairs to lead Angus to his new room.  When they entered, it was basically empty save for the massive bed against one of the walls and a dresser with a mirror on top.  Despite the lack of furniture in the room, Angus had never felt so at home.

“Welcome home kiddo,” Kravitz said, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad, you know.  So has Taako.  The last time he got drunk, actually, he talked about adopting you, but you hadn’t shown any interest in being adopted by anyone, so he dropped it quickly.  He’s really fucking happy about this.”

“I know sir, I am too,” Angus said, “thank you, sir, for adopting me.”

“Angus, you don’t have to call us ‘sir’ anymore.  You can call me dad if you want, or if you don’t want, whatever works for me.  I just want you to be happy here.”

“Okay, sir,” Angus paused, “dad.”  Absolute joy took over Kravitz’ face and he had to seemingly restrain himself from wrapping Angus up in a bear hug.

“Get settled in, and then come down for dinner, okay?”

“Alright.”  With that, Kravitz turned and retreated down the hallway and downstairs.  Angus watched him go for a moment, before he stepped into his new room and into his new life.

And he truly couldn’t have been happier if he’d tried.

#taz taako #taz kravitz #angus mcdonald #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #the mcelroys #mcelroy family #griffin mcelroy #travis mcelroy #justin mcelroy #clint mcelroy #found family #family #fan fic #taz fanfic #the adventure zone #taz balance #writing #rockin writes #archive of our own

[beanmaster-pika]

I ended up getting encouraged to talk about my aus so thank you all for enabling my self-indulgence

Swan Prince AU

This one’s the first one? And it’s more of a royalty AU, actually. Licht vacations in the Servamp kingdom every summer but one day he gets cursed by an evil magician (Touma) to turn into a swan. Hyde, who’s the same age as him and therefore his designated playmate when they were kids, recognizes it’s him and freaks out because if the Jekylland kingdom finds out they let this happen then there could be a war and no one wants that thank you very much.

I’m actually more interested in worldbuilding than the plot so :/ For reasons I have not thought up, there’s the ‘older bunch’ of Servamps (Kuro to Freya) and the ‘younger bunch’ (Hyde to Lily) and there’s like a ten-year age gap between the olders and the youngers, and then there’s Tsubaki, who’s twelve and illegitimate. Kuro inherited the throne at 17 when their dad disappeared and by the time Tsubaki’s mother showed up a couple years after with a baby that had the last king’s eyes, the kingdom had stagnated. However, a baker named Mahiru starts showing up at the castle to petition the king, and he appears so frequently and his words are so sensible (”He’s got to have studied statecraft,” Hugh declared. “There’s no way he hasn’t.”) that Kuro’s siblings up and offer him a job as the king’s advisor. After many arguments and finally a heart-to-heart where Mahiru learns that the last king once allowed Kuro to make a decision that almost led the whole country to war, they start to work towards understanding each other and cooperating and it’s tough, but by the time the present story rolls around the kingdom is flourishing. 

The older bunch all hold a place in court; Hugh is a minister of internal affairs, and he, Kuro, and Mahiru are at the heart of the kingdom’s laws; Jeje is the most knowledgeable about magic, especially curses, and works as both a consultant and investigator, though he’s sent to the Alicein kingdom along with Lily (16 at the time of the story, two years younger than Hyde) to serve as ambassadors and tutors to the king’s sons; and Freya’s the head of the army and the most terrifying person in the kingdom. The people love her. There’s a more even distribution of power than there was before Kuro inherited the throne - Mahiru’s influence and Kuro’s reluctance to be in charge of literally everything see to that - and provincial courts have juries put in place so that people are no longer solely at the mercy of sometimes corrupt judges.

On a different note, Hyde starts out as a sweet kid, but when his friend-and-maybe-crush Princess Ophelia two kingdoms over dies when he’s sixteen he goes wild in his grief and takes up with a group of bandits and starts hurting people. When confronted by his siblings, he declares that if the world is so cruel as to take Ophelia’s life, then his actions are just a drop in the bucket. Now, this is very much wrong and a problem, so Kuro manages to seal him temporarily into hedgehog form for a month (EDIT: yes he can normally transform into a hedgehog, no Licht doesn’t know at first, yes animal transformation is a common ability in their kingdom, and no the sealing is not a common or easy practice. It’s legitimate grounds for Kuro to self-prescribe absolute bed rest in order to recover from the drain on his energy, and he’s stronger than normal mages and had assistance to boot; a month is the very limit he can achieve with that) saying that if he’s lost his grasp on his humanity, then perhaps he’ll find it again in an inhuman form, and then they drop him off at the summer villa reserved for Prince Licht with Guildenstern as a caretaker. Now, unbeknownst to everyone, Licht arrived for vacation even though it’s midwinter, and he is absolutely taken with the hedgehog that’s wandering through the villa (”Oh Shit,” Guildenstern said. Hyde agreed. This was very much an Oh Shit situation.). It turns out that while he hadn’t known Princess Ophelia personally, he’d had mad respect for her for stepping up to enact a change in her kingdom’s politics even though it had ended in her assassination. He and Hyde end up having furious arguments over ideology (Licht still doesn’t know that Hyde’s there, and he doesn’t connect the voice with the hedgehog) and in the end, he helps Hyde regain his humanity - to be human is to desire, to desire is to dream, and to dream is to push your imagination past its very limits and work for it. That ends up breaking the seal prematurely, much to everyone but Licht’s relief. Licht’s pissed that the hedgehog turned out to be Hyde. And when Licht is cursed to be a swan, well, Hyde’s worried about it affecting relations with the Jekylland kingdom, yeah, but he also wants to do for Licht what Licht did for him: make him human again.

ANYWAY HERE’S THE DOODLES

Teacher AU

Because now they’re teachers.

This one has basically nothing in it yet aside from it being fun to consider what subjects they’d teach (Mahiru’s home ec; Kuro’s phys ed; Hugh’s history; Jeje’s art; Freya’s a counselor; Hyde’s literature; World End’s either a history or foreign language teacher; Lily’s a student teacher; Licht’s a piano instructor now; Otogiri’s the school’s doctor) and what everyone else would be (Tsurugi and squad are bodyguards; Iduna’s an engineer; Tsuyuki’s with the government; Sham’s with the government; Higan’s a wandering artist; Sakuya’s a psychologist; Ryuusei and Koyuki haven’t factored in at all oops; everyone else either has their canon profession or they’re college or high school students). One of the tidbits I actually spared thought to is that Kuro took a couple gap years and ended up in the same freshman Psych 101 class as Sakuya (who at present shares an apartment with Mahiru) and they somehow bonded and even after the class ended they became texting buddies (usually of memes) and hung out from time to time, but then Mahiru (after getting fired from his first school for some sort of reckless behavior) gets hired to the school all the Servamps are gathered at and starts out pretty argumentative with Kuro but eventually they gain a mutual understanding and maybe the beginnings of a relationship and Sakuya puts two and two together from conversations with Mahiru and texting with Kuro that the man he’s in love with might be in love with his texting buddy and he doesn’t know how to deal with that and so stops texting Kuro, and Kuro finds out about it from talking to Mahiru and then this happens

Kuro, throwing a chicken nugget at Sakuya’s window: why are u ghosting me Sakuya, opening the window: can u throw another

And they talk and all is well again. A poly ending is absolutely in the stars because Mahiru loves them both and they agree to it.

Also the other thing is this

Pokemon AU

This is the one I like the most right now! I actually have a couple of chapters written for it that I haven’t posted yet but basically the whole Servamp thing remains, but the pokemon that they transform into actually have their own personalities - rather than a transformation, it’s a shared body thing, and the human form is a manifestation of the vampire (formerly human) soul. I haven’t ironed out all the details of why this is happening, but I like the idea of them never being alone, though I haven’t figured out quite how this will change them. Hyde’s gonna be fun and also painful to figure out.

Fate AU

LET’S GET THIS HOLY GRAIL BREAD

Mahiru’s uncle was going to take part in the holy grail war but Mahiru accidentally summoned instead and what he summoned was Kuro, a Lancer. Add to that that Sakuya is still his best friend, was meant to be a pawn of Touma’s but ended up being Master-napped by the Saber he summoned (Tsubaki), and Tsubaki wants vengeance on Kuro, and we’ve got another round of heartbreaks on our hands because Fate is nothing but heartbreaks. The Alicein brothers are also there, summoning the same Servants (Caster and Archer) that their grandfather and Mikuni’s mom summoned, and they know that the Grail is tainted so they’re out to destroy it. Their backstory is a little tweaked with Mikuni just stealing his mom’s command seals to protect Misono instead of killing her, and he grabs Misono and absconds to the Church where they stay until Mikage ensures that Mikuni’s mom can never hurt Misono again after the War. Misono goes home, but Mikuni goes to study at the Clock Tower and comes back just in time for the next war. (There’s more under the pictures)

Tetsu summons Rider, but his sisters are the masterminds of the operation; they’re doing their best to restore their family in an age of declining mana, and Tetsu’s got the best Magic Circuits among them so he’s tasked with summoning, but they’re operating under the strict principle that if any of their lives are endangered, especially Tetsu’s, then they halt the project immediately and seek refuge with the Church. Hugh’s hyped about the whole ‘restoring the family’s magic’ thing.

Licht, on the other hand, comes from a family that’s at the very height of their magical power. He doesn’t believe in an omnipotent wish granter because he feels that it’s cheating, but to win the Grail is the goal of every mage out there so he’s in it for the glory. For a summoning catalyst he uses a bracelet that was supposed to belong to a martyr princess of old (”She gave her life for her goals,” Licht said in awe. “Yep, it’s very impressive. Please do not do the same,” Licht’s mother said.), but it turned out to belong to the other person connected to her legend, a man who was terrible and cruel, uncaring of others after he was driven mad in grief, and so Licht summons a demon of an assassin and Crantz (regular human) is left babysitting these goons while Licht’s parents hold down the fort in Austria.

Now, the Berserker team. I just want you all to know that the ones I was most excited about is the Berserker team. Tsurugi carried out the summoning here, Touma’s other pawn, and he added a madness enhancement, changing Freya’s class from Shielder to Berserker. Tsurugi, unlike Sakuya, is a highly trained operative and adult and one of the Church’s Executors, and he’s also completely under Touma’s thumb so he’s an ideal proxy even though Touma couldn’t snatch Sakuya’s command seals like he intended to. Unfortunately, Freya’s madness has just released her inhibitions and she’s this fucking close to pulling a Tsubaki and Master-napping Tsurugi. She does her best - in her limited capacity - to get Tsurugi away from Touma and it all culminates in Touma deciding she’s too much of a loose cannon and trying to take Tsurugi’s command seals away, but the seals instead go to Iduna somehow (haven’t figured that out yet) and Iduna and Freya spirit Tsurugi away to help him recover. Shortly after Iduna develops a magic item that’ll dampen the effect of the madness enhancement, more or less reverting Freya to her original class.

Now, this Grail War is an absolute clusterfuck by this point, mostly because all the summoned Servants are siblings, so a Ruler comes in - drum roll please - World End! Because who better to solve a sibling squabble than another sibling, even if he is the third youngest. This is mostly because I want World End to be included in stuff. World End’s in my Pokemon AU. I failed to elaborate on that but since that’s the AU I’m actually writing it’s all good. Anyway they’re all gathered in a sort of war council at a family restaurant to work out their intense family issues and then World barges in ‘WHAT’S UP THIS IS A PRETTY AWKWARD REUNION.’

This actually might be one of my favorites on account of being able to have them all be different physical ages but keeping their age hierarchy since Heroic Spirits can be summoned at whichever point of their lives was significant, and also this means that I can just make up lore for them. In ten, twenty years I’m probably going to look back on this and groan but for now I’m going to have fun with it.

For Kuro, he took down an entire army on his own at age eighteen and then retreated from the world. Hugh stopped a war when he was small (this threat of war surfaced again when he was older; this was when Kuro took down a whole army). Jeje became a famous outlaw. Freya overthrew a government in order to protect her soldiers. Hyde served a princess, but she gave her life for peace, and shortly afterwards his older brother killed their father; Hyde turned cold and cruel after that. World End inherited his sister’s kingdom after she died in battle and stood strong against threats from other kingdoms, displaying sharp wisdom despite his brash personality. Snow Lily used his illusions to carry out a large scale rescue operation on a child trafficking ring. And Tsubaki? Tsubaki was but a man who inherited a sword from his father, then vanished into the night when that same father was killed. He could have - should have - been summoned as an avenger, but for the sake of story convenience and keeping the war to the traditional seven classes, I chose saber for him.

#this took me All Day #pika's post #servamp #servamp au #im. not gonna tag everybody no #ah but gotta tag the ships just in case someone has em blocked #kuromahi #lawlicht #kuromahisaku #?

[artistic-writer]

Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 13

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language, and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW)

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Ok, so, don’t hate me but this chapter offers you no resolution to what happened in the last one.  I’m sorry not sorry , but its another backstory.  This time its Brother Jones backstory, and we also find out how Walsh got the scar, as well as a few other little things.  Also, next week I will posting TWO chapters, because Ch 14 is very NSFW on the whump front, and as i understand this is not for every reader, I have written ch 15 so that you can skip Ch 14 if it is too much for you. 

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her upcoming birthday, and creating the @cssns  Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious  @resident-of-storybrooke@courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. And to @flipperbrain  who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious  @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat  @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight@ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr@blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver  @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

——————————————————————————————

A decade ago

Liam Jones was too young to become a parent, or so he had thought, but the second his mother’s hand had gone limp in his and her last breath had left her mortal body, he knew his life had changed forever. He was twenty-two, barely an adult himself, and he was now in charge of his younger brother. Killian was just sixteen, not yet legally an adult, so Liam had stood in a solicitor's office and signed a single sheet of paper whilst an overweight, middle-aged man explained what he was signing.

In the absence of any remaining family, he was Killian’s new guardian.

In truth, he would not have had it any other way. His brother was just like their mother - a hopelessly romantic empath whose world crumbled when she had died. It wasn’t quick, nor painless, and both of the brothers had watched her slip from reality, fading away to nothing more than a grey shadow before their very eyes. Liam was older, stronger and had coped with the loss of a relative before - he was young, but he remembered his grandfather’s funeral. Killian, however, was not equipped to deal with the emotions he was feeling.

One doctor had called him delicate. Another had called him explosive. Liam had learned quickly that even if he had been a sixteen-year-old boy himself, he had never been a sixteen-year-old boy who had lost his world. Killian was angry, at everything, and only six years into his werewolf change. He had shifted and remained in wolf form for eight days. Liam had covered for him, telling his school he was under the weather, but he knew nothing but time would heal his wounds. And so he let him remain a wolf, curled up into a tight cat-like ball on the couch, fur greasy from where he had been comforting him with tender strokes and his heart breaking at each whimper his brother had emitted.

Liam understood the appeal of wolf form for Killian. It was where his brother felt safest, strongest and able to take on anything that came at him. He had been like that ever since his first change, obsessed with his wolf form, shifting whenever he could to escape humanity. Liam was the opposite, choosing to live as human a life as possible because even though their mother had always told them it was okay to be a werewolf, society would never accept them as such. Humanity would never know of their existence, and the Werewolf council would always make sure they didn’t exist, so what was the point of trying to belong where you were not welcome?

The funeral came and went, and for months afterward their little village was alive with rumours of a black wolf roaming the graveyard at night. Some villagers put it down to the caretaker having too much to drink, but Liam knew that if he had checked Killian’s bed at night, he would have only found a pile of discarded clothes. If Killian needed to sit on their mother’s grave until the wee hours, whining at her loss and howling at the moon, Liam would not stop him.

Even in human form, Killian tried to remain as close as possible to his mother’s memory. She had taught him how to play piano, her proudest achievement, but Killian’s selections shifted from jolly tunes to pieces of a darker nature, the tinkering of the high notes replaced by the low vibrating boom that reflected his feelings. Liam let him play whatever he wanted to, compose whatever he wished, even if he would often find him slumped over the ivories bawling his eyes out at the end of each session.

He endured nearly two years, until one day, before his eighteenth birthday, Killian surprised him with a proposition that wasn’t totally out of the realms of possibility.

“America?” Liam asked with a snort, the milk from his cereal spoon dribbling down his chin as it escaped his mouth.

“Aye, America,” Killian repeated eagerly with a nod.

“And why would we want to go to America?” Liam asked his brother, his eyebrow raised and the back of his hand catching more wayward milk.

Killian shrugged the way most teenagers do when they do not want to divulge all the facts. “It will be an adventure,” he smiled. He dipped his own spoon into his bowl, the metal clattering against the edge of the porcelain, and scooped up a spoonful of golden flakes swimming in milk.

“But why America?” Liam pried, watching his brother intently. Killian had never mentioned America before, apart from a teenage obsession with Ford Mustangs and a large dog-eared poster hanging proudly on his bedroom wall. “Plenty of other places to create mischief.”

“It’s far away,” Killian said softly, his words muffled by his chewing and his eyes fixed on his spoon. He gripped the implement awkwardly, tapping the side of the bowl with a sigh. “I can’t stay here, Liam. In this house, without her. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Liam soothed, stopping his brother’s emotional ramble.

“It’s not okay,” Killian told him firmly, letting his spoon slide out of his hand and slip against the side of the bowl. “I can’t wake up in this house one more day without seeing her face, or hearing her voice, Liam. I can’t.”

Liam sighed sadly, fingers toying with the edge of his own breakfast bowl as he watched his brother began to fall apart once more. He had suspected Killian was hiding his sadness, forcing a brave face for the rest of the world, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Killian snapped. He had expected more rage, more things being thrown or smashing doors, but Killian was at the bottom of broken, and more childlike than Liam had ever seen him.

“Why have you been pretending, Killian? The last six months have been…” Liam began, offering his brother a chance to explain, which he couldn’t seem to contain.

“Hell,” Killian admitted, lifting his gaze. Their eyes locked across the table, no bigger than the seats they were perched on and Liam knew his brother was not exaggerating. “I’ve been trying to be the person the world wants me to be and I’m exhausted. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

“I miss her too, you know,” Liam said softly, dropping his gaze. “You can always talk to me, brother.”

“I know,” Killian said with a small smile. “I love you, Liam. Truly.”

Liam was taken back for a second. Killian had never told him he had loved him before, even if Liam knew it. They were brothers, bonded by more than just blood, and now all they had was each other. “I love you too, little brother,” Liam smirked, knowing how irritated his brother became when he teased him.

“Younger,” Killian scowled, his lips twitching to avoid a playful smirk.

“Younger,” Liam agreed amicably, reaching across the table and ruffling his fingers through Killian’s lengthening, black hair. He was still a boy essentially, the faintest sprouting of facial hair threatening to grow on his jawline, and sometimes Liam found it hard to treat him as the man he was becoming. “So, tell me, honestly, why America?”

“Father is in America,” Killian said suddenly, swiping a hand through his cheek-length fringe and parting it to one side so he could see his brother’s shocked expression.

Liam frowned and tilted his head. “How do you know?”

“The dark web,” Killian admitted without falter. He wouldn’t lie to his brother; they had been through so much and Liam would find out anyway.

“Killy,” Liam warned.

“I know, it’s dangerous and I shouldn’t have, but I paid a guy to find all of the Brennan Jones’ who lived in America and…”

“Wait, with what?” Liam blinked, his voice an octave higher.

Killian’s cheeks pinked under his brothers gaze. “I sold Milah.”

Just before their mother had been diagnosed, Killian had pestered her for the weeks leading up until his fifteenth birthday with the request for a motorbike. He promised not to ride it until he was sixteen and wanted to learn how it worked before he got his license so he could fix it if anything needed repairing. She had said no, but unbeknownst to him, Liam had already procured him the bike, hid it away in a neighbour’s garage and had been playing along with his mother’s ruse.

On his big day, Killian had been handed a small package, which contained just a pair of socks, some new sheet music for his piano and lastly a replica model of the bike he had really wanted. With a disappointed smile, Killian had thanked his mother and hugged her tight, knowing she really didn’t have the means to fulfill his dreams anyway. It wasn’t until later that day when she had sent him to the neighbour’s to fetch a parcel they had been holding, when he realised what she had done.

Killian doted on his bike about as much as he doted on his mother, constantly tinkering with it, tuning it and modifying it for when he could finally ride her. He named her Milah, a name he didn’t really know but found himself attracted to all the same. For a whole year, he tended to Milah’s every need, changing her oil and washing her fairings so often Killian’s mother warned him he would wash away the paintwork, until he turned sixteen and got his license.

Milah still had the bobbles on her tires when Killian finally hit the road, taking a few laps around their little village, to the annoyance of a few of the more elderly residents, but his joy was short lived. Less than two months after his sixteenth birthday, and shattering his very existence, Killian was told of his mother’s illness after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. She had known she was ill for some time but had neglected to tell her boys, protecting them from the truth until she could no longer.

She was dying. Cancer. Killian put Milah into storage and focused all of his attention to caring for his mother.

“You sold your bike?” Liam gasped, trying to fathom what his brother had said.

“Aye,” Killian nodded.

“But she meant so much to you,” Liam blinked at his brother. “Why would you sell it to pay a man you do not know to find our father?”

“Because mother asked us to find him,” Killian frowned. Liam rolled his eyes in agreement. Of course, Killian was right. “And guess what?” Killian rearranged himself on his chair, leaned forward and pushed his half eaten cereal aside with the back of his hand.

“Go on,” Liam asked, only slight annoyance in his tone.

“Guess how many Brennan Jones’ live in America?” Killian smirked, running his tongue over the ridge of his teeth.

Liam narrowed his eyes at his brother, mirroring his know it all grin. “How many?”

“One,” Killian grinned excitedly.

“Well then, brother,” Liam inhaled hard, standing from the table and tugging up the waistband of his jeans. “Best start packing. We’re going to America.”

--

Two weeks had passed since the brothers Jones has set foot on American soil. They had arranged to stay with a childhood friend, Ruby Lucas, who had persuaded her father that the two strange British men who had shown up at their farm late one night were actually known to her. Ruby had gone to school in England, a boarding school near to where the Jones boys grew up, and when she had returned stateside, they had always kept in touch. Liam had reached out to her, knowing she would never deny his request of shelter and knowing her semi-secluded farmhouse home was perfect for a pining werewolf like Killian.

Ruby’s father, a widower, was ailing so in an attempt not to disrupt his life too much, Liam had suggested he and Kilian stay in one of the outbuildings away from the main house whilst they looked for a home in the city. They didn’t have anything but the clothes on their back and their life savings, but they had enough and it wasn’t long before Liam found work as a mechanic. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it gave him the opportunity to save a little.

Ruby’s father, known only to him as Nemo - though Killian suspected that wasn’t his real name - a now elderly gentleman, took a shine to Killian immediately. He had heard stories from his daughter, and whilst he was sure she was in love with at least one of the Jones brothers, he preferred the younger one, Killian. Nemo often said how he reminded him of himself, a young and carefree gent with a depth that would set the most confident women adrift. If only the old man had known about werewolves, he would have realised how right he was.

On Killian’s nineteenth birthday and a year after they had reached America, the brothers were still living on the farm. Liam was a mechanic by day and attended night school whilst Killian helped out around the farm due to Ruby’s father’s age. Nemo was fragile, his grey hair long since turned yellow and a half chewed cigar always in between his chubby little fingers. He always told Killian that they were Cuban, but his little smirk afterward told Killian otherwise.

“Cuban, you say?” Killian smirked back, pulling the last knots out of the mane of the mare he was grooming.

“Always,” Nemo declared, leaning against the stable door as he watched Killian groom the horse in front of him. “I picked up many on my travels.” He decided to finish his daily pleasure and stubbed out the quarter length cigar on the stable door, careful not to knock off the cherry tip and set the whole place ablaze.

Killian snorted a little and dodged a flick of the horse’s tail. “Ruby says you’ve never left the farm.”

“My boy, I’ve sailed a hundred seas a thousand times over.” Nemo caught Killian’s eye, his eyebrow raised high up on his brow and the horse between them let out a low, rumbling sound followed by a whinny.

“She says you haven’t.” Killian nodded at him and motioned to the horse, resuming his long brush strokes through her brittle mane. The horse’s skin twitched where his hands touched her, but she was relaxed, a hoof resting upon its curve edge and her head hanging low. “And I believe her.”

Nemo laughed this time and the rattle of a hacking cough sounded through the barn. Killian paused his grooming, but Nemo waved him away with a hand, covering his mouth with the other as he coughed more violently than his body could take. Killian has seen this kind of coughing before, from his mother, but as much as he had come to love Nemo, he knew the man would never talk about his ailments.

“I have lived a long time,” Nemo panted, catching his breath. “And I have never seen a man and a horse have such a rapport.” Killian gave him a soft smile, his hand following the brush as he moved onto the horse’s coat. She was shedding for the summer, soft, fluffy clumps of hair coming loose in his hands and falling to the stable floor below. “She likes you.”

“She reminds me of my mother,” Killian said softly. It was the first time he had mentioned his mother to anyone other than Liam and for the first time, it didn’t feel lonely or sad to talk of her. He felt warm, her memory like a comfort in his mind. “She has a gentle soul,” Killian added idly, running his hand down the velvet soft hair on the horse’s long face.

Nemo nodded in agreement, shifting his weight so he was more comfortably balanced on his other hip. “Do you ride?”

“No, sir,” Killian snorted, stifling a laugh. “I grew up in a city, so the closest thing to a horse I’ve ever ridden was my motorbike.” A smile played across his lips at the memory of Milah and the hours he had spent tuning every piston, wire, and baffle before he was finally able to ride her. His smile faded and he sidestepped so he could reach the horse’s rump. “I sold her to come to America.”

“Oh, it was a lady?” Nemo teased, giving Killian a sly grin. Killian blushed and nodded. “They always are,” Nemo told him with a knowing wave of his hand.

“My mother bought her for me before I could ever legally ride. I spent hours getting to know her, making sure I could get the best performance out of her, learning what made her purr.” Killian smirked.

“As you should with any woman,” Nemo winked and let out a laugh, short-lived because of another hacking cough he could not recover from.

Killian dropped the brush in his hand and immediately moved beside his friend, offering him his arm as he led him to a small milking stool nearby. The old man sunk down onto the rounded seat, hand clutching Killian’s shirt in his feeble fingers whilst trying to wave him away at the same time. Killian fetched his bottle of water nearby and offered it to Nemo, telling him to sip.

“Are you alright? Should I get Ruby?” Killian wasn’t sure how to help the old man, apart from offering to fetch his daughter, who, as a trainee veterinarian, was more than capable of tending to his needs.

“Don't you dare,” Nemo rasped, glaring and sucking in a deep breath, the redness dissipating from his cheeks. He leaned back against the closed stable door behind him and emitted a heavy sigh. Killian knew his time was limited, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, so instead, he was simply there for the elderly man, holding him upright as he caught his breath.

“Can I do anything?” Killian asked gently, the almost see-through skin on Nemo’s hands white and ghostly as it rested in his. Nemo shook his head, breathing as deeply in and out as his failing lungs would allow. “Do you want to head back to the house?” Killian suggested. “I can finish up here.”

“How about we head out to the grey barn instead?” Nemo said between gasps. Killian looked at him with a frown. “There is something I have to show you.”

The grey barn was near the very back of the property, two buildings over from where Liam and Killian had been staying. The door was locked and to Killian’s knowledge, it always had been. Until now, neither Nemo or Ruby had ever mentioned it, or what was inside, and Killian’s interest was piqued as he helped the old man across the knee length grass field that surrounded it. Crickets chirped, jumping from the grass stems as they were disturbed by the two men, Nemo hunched over as he rattled a bunch of keys between his arthritic fingers.

“It’s one of these,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and clicking his tongue behind his oversized dentures.

“Here, let me,” Killian offered, holding out his hand to the old man. Nemo smiled warmly, handing him the bunch of keys. Most of them were rusted and so old they had been worn smooth and Killian eyed them hopelessly.

 “It’s a long, flat one,” Nemo told him firmly, pointing to the keys. “Ruby insisted on a more modern padlock, so it looks newer than the others.”

Killian looked down at the keys in his hand and scanned them quickly, not immediately seeing what he was supposed to be seeing. They were all orange, oxidized by years of exposure, so he began running his hands over them, feeling for the roughest one. When Killian thought he had found one that felt newly rusted, he held it up for Nemo who nodded.

“That’s the one,” he rasped, coughing to clear his throat. The old man waved a finger at the huge, round padlock which was equally as rusted, and gave Killian an encouraging nod. “Behind this door is something very dear to me, something that I have neglected ever since my wife passed away.”

“What is it?” Killian asked eagerly, wiggling the key into the lock and trying to turn the rusted mechanism.

“You’ll see,” Nemo grinned. The lock in Killian’s hand clicked open, the tumbler finally falling into place and he slipped the metal loop free from the latch.

The doors were heavier than any of the other barns Killian had entered, so after handing Nemo back his keys, he put all of his weight behind pushing the faded, wooden doors open. The bottom of one scraped across the ground, dust dancing in the sunlight that flooded into the barn as the door creaked open. Killian’s boots scruffed the ground as he sought to find his footing and after a little effort, the door hinges balanced out the weight of the door and it finally opened freely.

Killian righted himself as the door swung beyond his reach, confused by the dusty, off-white tarp covering what was clearly some kind of vehicle in front of him. Nemo shuffled past him, the gentle clatter of disused tools sounding out overhead as a bird that had taken up residence in the upper rafters of the barn took flight, exiting through a broken window in the top of the apex roof.

“Now,” Nemo began, reaching the tarp and lifting it over the hood. Dirt and debris flew everywhere, and the old man flinched away from the particles of dust that threatened to make him cough again. “She might not look like much,” he continued, dragging the brittle covering back over the now exposed car windshield. “But she has all of the right parts in all the right places.” Nemo gave the tarp one last tug and it fell to the ground behind the car that was now bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Killian stepped towards the car, his heart all but stopping in his chest. It was the car of his dreams, he would recognise it anywhere, even covered in patches of rust and newly welded areas. It was a Mustang, a ‘67, the original blue paint long since chipped away, but still visible in places. The tires were all flat, but the wheels were original ten spoke rims, he could tell, and the bodywork was something he had only ever dreamed of seeing in person.

Killian reached out, his hand nervously touching the cold, hard metalwork, his lips twitching into a content smile as he ran his hand over the length of the hood. It was broken, there was no doubt about it, but every spec of rust told a story and Killian could feel every single word the car was saying to him as he skimmed his fingertips up the windshield and over the solid roof.

“This is a Shelby GT500,” Killian whispered, almost to himself as he noticed the rear quarter window scoops exclusive to that model.

“She is,” Nemo boasted proudly.

“With a 425 cubic inch big block V8?” Killian asked excitedly, his hands skimming back over the roof over the car. He paused on the driver’s door handle, the bubbles of rust poking through the chrome there.

“You know your cars,” Nemo noted with a smirk.

Killian let out an ecstatic laugh, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead. “I know this car,” he said softly, still in shock. “It’s really a Shelby,” he all but giggled, looking up at Nemo with a juvenile grin. “I can’t believe I’m touching it.”

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Nemo smiled, watching the young man in front of him lavish his most prized possession with as much tenderness as he had done the first time he had seen her.

“She’s beautiful,” Killian breathed, unable to take his eyes off of the car.

“She’s yours if you want her,” Nemo told him casually.

“What?” Killian laughed nervously, head snapping up to meet the greyed eyes of Ruby’s dad.

“Just promise me one thing,” Nemo told him as he watched his own gnarled knuckles stroke the rear of the car. “You paint her dark blue when the time comes. With the dual over the top racing stripes.”

“Nemo, I can’t…” Killian began, his face paling.

“You can, Killian, and you will. Call it a birthday gift.” Nemo moved around the car, holding onto the body for support. “Ruby doesn’t want her, and we both know I am not long for this world. I want her to be cared for, lovingly restored to her former glory, not rotting away in a barn.”

Killian felt his legs weaken. He was nineteen, barely old enough to know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but he knew that what Nemo was offering was the one thing he had always wanted. “I don’t know what to say,” Killian said honestly, holding out his hand to the elderly man at his side.

“Say thank you,” Nemo teased, nudging Killian’s ribs with his elbow. He fiddled with the bunch of keys again, managing to twist a single ignition key from the bundle and offered it to Killian.

“Thank you,” Killian grinned, a wide ear to ear smile that made his ears bob up at the side of his head. He took the key, squeezing it in his palm before pulling Nemo into a hug. It was the first time Killian had ever had a father figure other than Liam and it meant the world to him that Nemo trusted him with the car.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough sappy business,” Nemo said gruffly, pushing Killian away weakly. They both laughed and Killian inspected the key in his hand yet again. “Back to work now,” Nemo ordered gently. “Those horses won’t groom themselves.”

“Aye, Aye Captain!” Killian grinned and took off out of the barn as quick as his legs could carry him.

--

Liam had always been a patient man, but over the last six months, Killian had really tested him. Ruby’s father Nemo had recently passed away and Liam had worried that it would affect Killian more than he would let on. However, after the funeral, Killian seemed just as happy, spending every free second he could with the car Nemo had gifted him. Liam wasn’t one for cars other than his job, but he knew what it meant to Killian and how, by restoring it, he would feel like he was honouring Nemo in the only way he could.

But he had spent too much time with it recently and Liam had decided to get his brother away from the farm and take him to the city. Ruby had some friends coming over to keep her company and if it were anything like last time, the sound of giggling women would keep him up all night, so he had planned a boys night out. He was twenty-five, approaching twenty-six, and Killian was still under twenty, so they would have limited options.

Unless they went underground.

Liam had been focusing on the underground Werewolf scene since they had arrived in the States, intently listening out for any chatter relating to his father. Killian brought them this far, albeit by illegal means, but it seemed a lot of the werewolf community operated under the radar. Liam was sure they would never find their father unless they went a little rogue, exploring the darker parts of humanity where most werewolves seemed to reside.

Liam had found a poker match, no limit Texas hold ’em, and he had managed to get two seats for them at the table. It would be full of werewolves, from all different packs and loners were invited too as long as no one found out they were mongrels. Liam hoped they could keep their heads down, maybe win some cash and find someone who knew their father. Or they would, if Killian ever finished styling his hair.

“Come on, Killian!” Liam barked, feet crossed at his ankles as he leaned against Ruby’s car. Liam flicked his wrist, checking his watch for the time and heaved a sigh. “Killian!”

“Alright!” Killian shouted, exiting the barn they called home, in a flash. He tugged his jacket over his arms, popping the collar on his shirt as he reached the car. Liam gave him an incredulous look and a twisted smirk. “What?”

“Out to impress are we?” Liam teased.

“You never know,” Killian told him with a wink. “I might have to seduce a lass to get information about father.”

“I highly doubt that,” Liam snorted, pulling the door of the car open and sinking into the driver’s seat. Killian got in the other side and gave his a brother a cocky smirk. “Alright, Casanova, let’s go.”

The alleyway behind the human nightclub was the perfect cover for an underground poker game, even if a little cliched. The bass from the music inside pounded so loudly it practically vibrated through their bodies as they made their way to the back door, the smell of alcohol-laced vomit and discarded food rife in the air. Killian scrunched his nose at the smell, but Liam ignored it, far more interested in the size of the doorman.

“Names?” The guard barked gruffly, eyes narrowing at the two younger faces in front of him.

“Barrie,” Liam said in a deep tone, peering down at the page. “B-A-R-R-I-E.”

The doorman ran his finger down the edge of the page, stopping when he noticed two identical surnames, one after the other. “Okay,” he said curtly. “Buy in is five grand a piece in mixed bills. We don’t have change.” He leaned behind himself and pushed open the door, the echoing thud of the bass tripling in volume as it spewed out of the club. “Down the steps, first door on the right. Password is Pan.” The guard pointed a fat finger down the corridor beyond the door and nudged his head sideways. “Good luck, boys.”

“We won’t need it,” Killian smiled as he breezed past the doorman. “But thanks anyway.”

When they finally made it to the room, it was far from what Killian had expected. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to see, but years of American gangster movies had clearly set him up for disappointment. There were two tables, each seating eight wolves, one already full and a game in progress. Killian could smell they were all Were and in unison, six pairs of eyes turned and watched them approach the other table.

“About time,” one of the wolves snapped. He was slouched in his seat and had beady eyes and a bird like face, long with a pointed nose. He was clearly impatient, glaring at the youngest Jones brother with a cold, hard stare as Liam and Killian claimed their seats. “Bit young, ain't we pup?”

“No age rules,” the croupier spat, exchanging their money for chips. “Money is money, Walsh. You know that.” He sifted smaller bundles of cash onto the tray of a machine that whirred to life and flicked the notes into a small pile, automatically counting them as it did. When the bald headed croupier was happy, he slid each brother a pile of chips of various colours and denominations.

“No matter,” Walsh quipped, sitting upright in his chair. He laced his fingers together, pushing his hands out and cracking his knuckles. “You’ll be easier to beat. No hard feelings.”

Killian simply smirked. Nemo, God rest his soul, had been a lot of things during his time on this earth, and good at poker was one of them. Killian was a natural, learning the ways of the game quickly and then focusing his energy on noticing tells. “We’ll see,” he grinned at Walsh, the fair skinned wolf opposite him grumbling to his associate.

One by one, wolves dropped from the game and after several hours, many hours into the morning, the only two wolves left at the table were Killian and Walsh. Walsh had the upper hand with a larger pot, thirty grand to Killian’s measly ten. They had gone back and forth, each taking the lead, chips changing hands to and fro until Walsh finally had the advantage.

The dealer shuffled the cards, and Killian leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting on the plush, green table covering. Liam was at his side, out of the game but watching the scene unfold before him, hoping beyond all hope that his brother would not play the cocky hooligan any longer. Killian had managed to keep them in the game, and Liam had mingled with a few wolves at the bar, name dropping their father, but so far nothing had emerged. They couldn’t leave ten grand out of pocket, so Liam had returned to the table for the final hand, nervous and eyes fixed on the dealer as he shuffled the deck.

The buy in was up to five thousand and as the dealer slid two cards his way, Killian let out an exaggerated sigh. He was tiring, he knew it and so did Walsh, but his opponent was also running out of energy. Killian lifted the two cards, barely enough to see, and spied his hand; a ten of hearts and a five of spades. He let the cards slap back on the table and lifted his gaze to Walsh who was shuffling two stacks of chips into each other in a show of dominance.

“Ready to fold, young pup?” He said with a sadistic smirk. “You can’t beat what I’ve got.” Walsh motioned to his cards, his face betraying him. Killian had already worked out his tell, so he knew Walsh had a good hand. Maybe two face cards, maybe an ace, but Killian had also worked out that if Walsh thought he couldn’t lose, he’d get sloppy.

“Not this time,” Killian shook his head and pushed half of his remaining pot into the center of the table. Liam sighed, shooting his brother a panicked look that Killian ignored in favour of outstaring Walsh. “Pony up.”

The dealer gave Walsh a questioning glance and without hesitation, he threw a five grand chip into the pot. He slid the button back to its resting position in front of himself and then dealt out the flop - the first three cards - which came out as an ace of spades, ten of clubs and a five of diamonds. Killian refrained from smirking too obviously, casting a downward glance at his cards as he pretended to check them again, sitting back and watching the glee on Walsh’s face.

“Well now,” Walsh sneered. “How about that for interesting.” He gave a nod to the dealer and his face erupted in a darkly twisted grin. “All in.”

“Call,” Killian said without hesitation, eyes fixed on the wolf opposite him.

“What are you doing?!” Liam growled low, pulling his brother’s arm so he was able to whisper in his ear. “He clearly has at least one ace!”

“I know,” Killian murmured, watching Walsh’s revolting smirk grow wider.

“It’s so sad that I’ll only be winning an extra five grand at the end of this,” Walsh mused, sticking out his bottom lip as he picked up his cards and studied them again.

“Unless we make this even more interesting,” Killian told him, leaning forward and wrenching his arm from Liam’s grasp.

“Go on,” Walsh’s eyes lit up and narrowed as he leaned forward, mirroring Killian’s stance.

Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to his Mustang, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger idly. The shine of the metal key glinted in the low lighting, and even through the smokey haze of the room, Killian could see Walsh grinning like a greedy child. “‘67 Mustang, Shelby GT500,” he clarified quickly. “Worth about twenty-five grand,” Killian said slowly, making sure Walsh was listening. He tossed the key into the middle of the table, and it bounced on the pile of chips already there. “How’s that for interesting?”

“Killian, don’t do this,” Liam implored his brother, watching the gollum like expression on Walsh’s face. The wolf was greedy, he could tell, and a darkness ran through him too. Killian ignored Liam’s pleas, raising an eyebrow at Walsh as he contemplated the offer in front of him.

“Alright,” Walsh said after a beat, nodding to the dealer who gathered all of the chips and the key into a pile in front of him.

“Players will show their cards.” He pointed to the both of them and they turned over their hands at the same time. Liam’s face turned white when Walsh revealed a pair of aces, one club, one diamond, and when he noticed Killian’s ten-five, he buried his face in his hands.

“Good luck, pup,” Walsh laughed, oozing arrogance.

The dealer dealt a fourth card, the turn card, and it was an eight of diamonds. No help to either player. It kept them as they were, Walsh with the better three of a kind and Killian with two pairs. Killian gulped nervously and Walsh ran his tongue over the point of his canine, rubbing his hands together. Statistically, he had won, Killian knew that. The only way Killian was going to beat Walsh now was if a five or a ten came up, but the chances were slim.

“What colour is my new car by the way?” Walsh taunted and Killian gave him a hooded stare. “Doesn’t matter,” Walsh shrugged, grinning like a mad man. “I’ll be spraying it red anyway.”

The dealer sighed and turned over the last card he had dealt, his mouth twitching into a small smile. He had been the dealer in this place for years, serving creeps like Walsh and his alpha James, so it was refreshing to see someone like Killian, a young nobody, come in and take him down a peg or two. “Five of clubs,” he smirked, extending an arm out to Killian. “Full house beats three of a kind. Barrie wins.”

“No!” Walsh growled, slamming a balled fist into the table.

“You won!” Liam exclaimed, not really believing the words spewing from his mouth. “You won!” he declared, jumping to his feet, hands on his head, mouth opened in a wide grin and eyes fixed on the forty thousand dollars being counted out in front of him. “You only bloody won!” he cackled, shaking Killian ecstatically.

Killian remained calm, letting his brother push him around in his excitement. He simply stared at Walsh across the table and his face was paled, void of any emotion except shock. Killian’s mouth twitched, pulling up at the corners into a tight lipped smile as the dealer handed him his winnings. He palmed the key, gripping it tightly and saying a silent prayer to whoever had watched over him, and a silent apology to Nemo before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Killian stood, offering the dealer his hand and giving the man a tip for his trouble. It was late, the game had overrun some, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be compensated any other way. It wasn’t like an underground croupier got paid a decent wage.

Liam was still celebrating, handing his brother a beer he had quickly acquired from the bar and tapping the neck of the bottle with his own. Both brothers took a long swig of their beer, the fizzy, hoppy drink filling their mouths and making their tongues tingle. Killian finished his in three big gulps and slammed the bottle down on the table, grabbing Walsh’s attention. “No hard feelings,” he smirked smugly.

After a few congratulatory handshakes from some of the other players, Liam and Killian were on their way out the door. The doorman patted Killian on the back as they left so hard that he stumbled forward into the alleyway with a chuckle. They had decided to cut through the woods on the way back to their car, the same way they had come, and Killian couldn’t help but recall the look on Walsh’s face as he had lost.

“Did you see his face?” he laughed, his pockets padded out with all of his cash.

“Aye, brother, it was a sight for sure,” Liam chuckled, nodding his agreement. “I’ll admit, I was nervous when you bet the car, considering its condition.”

“Well, he wasn’t to know it wasn’t in a state worth what I indicated,” Killian shrugged with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing you won then.” Liam blew out a breath, his nerves calming a little. He patted his own pockets, full of the bills too. Total prize money was forty-thousand dollars, money neither brother had ever seen before. “This is a lot of money,” he grinned. “Well done, brother.”

“I’m going to restore the car,” Killian smiled. “For Nemo.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Liam agreed with a proud smile. His younger brother was becoming a man and his heart swelled in his chest at how much he admired his determination to always do the right thing. Killian may have been a troubled young man, but he always had his heart in the right place.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered and they both froze in their tracks, boots skidding in the dirt. Walsh appeared from behind an oak tree, hands behind his back as he stepped into the middle of the pathway. Liam instinctively stepped in front of Killian to protect him from the older wolf. “Look what I’ve found.”

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Liam said calmly.

“Then hand over the money and no harm will come to you,” Walsh smirked, his expression not filling either brother with any confidence.

“I won fair and square,” Killian growled, his jaw clenched together. He threw his head back a little, inhaling hard and finding no trace of other wolves in the wind. Walsh was alone.

“Oh, I know,” Walsh nodded, toying with his bottom lip. “Congrats,” he spat sarcastically, holding out his hand. “Now hand it over.” He took a threatening step towards the brothers and Liam took a step back, pushing his brother away from the menacing wolf in front of them.

“If you want your money so badly, then come and get it.” Killian pushed hard against the resistance of Liam’s body, wrenching his arms from his jacket, balling it up in his hands and throwing it to the ground.

“Killian,” Liam warned his brother darkly, the hair on his neck standing at attention. Killian was slightly drunk and had no idea of the trouble he was getting into. Walsh was a pureblood and while he didn’t know they were not, they still had the opportunity to talk their way out of the situation.

“You’re a real cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Walsh snarled, his lips curling over his teeth in a disgusting smile.

“Joke’s on you,” Killian sneered with a laugh. “My mother was human.”

“Oh no.” Liam pinched his eyes closed. The one thing he had not wanted to divulge had just come tumbling out of Killian’s stupidly drunk mouth.

“Was?” Walsh scoffed, his words vile as they left his mouth. He looked the wolves in front of him up and down, a look of disgust on his face as he spat at the ground between them. “Good riddance.”

Liam had no time to stop his brother, who pushed him out of the way and was already in wolf form before he reached Walsh. Their mother was a trigger for Killian, his rage surfacing quicker than he had taken to get drunk and his shift taking over him before he had even registered his emotions. Killian lunged for the wolf before him, his legs ripping through his clothes, teeth bared and eyes wide. Walsh didn’t even look surprised when Killian attacked him, laughing sadistically as he fell backward, and the young, black wolf towered over him.

“Is that all you got?” Walsh spat, fingers gripping the excess skin at the side of Killian’s head, holding the snarling wolf from his face. Walsh chuckled again, turning his head to the side when Killian began to drool, a thin drizzle of slobber slowly inching towards his face. “You filthy mongrel dog!”

Killian barked in Walsh’s face, foamy spittle flicking against the man’s face. Walsh grabbed onto a scrap of Killian’s shirt that was hanging loosely around his neck and twisted it tightly until Killian began to gulp furiously for air. Walsh took the opportunity to gain the upper hand, digging his knee into Killian’s ribs and tossing him over his head, Killian’s wolf form writhing mid-air awkwardly.

“Stop!” Liam roared, rushing at his brother. He left Walsh laying in the ground, rushing past him to his brother who was scrambling back to all fours, snorting dirt from his nose and his hackles raised. Halting Killian with a steady hand and a pleading glance, Liam shook his head gently. “Killian, please.”

Liam barely had the words out of his mouth when he cried out, the hot, searing pain of a bite shooting up the back of his leg. Walsh, now in wolf form, had sunk his teeth into Liam’s calf and was shaking his head back and forth, the skin under Liam’s jeans tearing open in no time. Liam turned to his attacker, punching Walsh on the top of the head in an attempt to get him to let go, but all he felt was his jaws clamp down harder on his leg. Liam fell to the ground, the pain in his leg too much to bear whilst upright, and he kicked out at the grey wolf who was tugging at his limb.

Killian sprang over his brother’s fallen figure, ears flattened to his head and teeth bared once more. Walsh released Liam’s leg in order to defend himself, twisting his body sideways and jumping backward, feet scuffing through the littered forest floor. He lifted a leg and clawed Killian’s face, the young wolf wincing away with a yelp as he felt the skin on his cheek open up and ooze with fresh, hot blood.

Killian shook his head, pawing at the side of his face as pain rocked through his head, blood coating his fur and almost blurring his vision. He saw Walsh circling around him, head low and growling, the sound a deep vibration in his throat. Killian circled the opposite way, darkened stare boring into the older wolf in front of him, sizing him up should he need a defense. It wasn’t long before Killian needed to execute his plan. Walsh ran towards him, feet skidding in the fallen leaves and as Killian dodged his charge, he sunk his teeth into the soft skin of Walsh’s neck.

It was so fast, all happening in a split second that left Killian with a mouth full of fur and skin and Walsh yowling in pain. Walsh had left his neck wide open for a bite and the momentum of his forward lunge had caused more damage than either of them thought possible. Killian’s jaws had grabbed a sizeable chunk of Walsh’s neck tissue, ripping it clean off and leaving the wolf with a jagged-edged wound that seeped crimson with every heartbeat. Walsh fell to the ground, squirming in agony as he clawed at the wound site, almost passing out from the blood he was losing and not seeing the huge tree branch as it struck his skull.

“Now stay down,” Liam growled at the unconscious wolf at his feet, throwing the huge, thick branch aside and panting from the exertion of swinging it.

“Is he dead?” Killian asked breathlessly, shifted back to his human form and stark naked behind his brother. His face was smeared with blood that coated his teeth, the red colour contrasting his pale expression. “Did I kill him?” Killian panted heavily, chest heaving, eyes dark with a beast Liam had never seen before. He wanted Walsh to be dead. He craved the feeling of having taken a life, a small twitch of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Liam looked down at Walsh, the wolf out cold but not dead. He toed the canine body with his boot and it let out a gruff growl. He was injured, but he would heal. “He’ll live,” Liam assured Killian with a distasteful tone. “Unfortunately.”

“We should get going,” Killian said quickly, casting a glance around the secluded clearing. The scent of humans lingered in the forest and whilst there were none around at this hour, Killian knew there would be soon enough. “What are we going to do about him?” Killian motioned his head towards Walsh, bending down to retrieve his jacket, the last piece of clothing left unshredded.

“Leave him,” Liam shrugged, turning away from the wolf on the ground. “We don’t owe him anything.”

“Come on,” Killian urged his brother with a tug on his arm. “Let’s get you back to the farm so Ruby can take a look at that leg.” Killian lifted Liam’s arm and ducked underneath, letting his brother lean his weight on him as he hopped alongside him.

“Some night, huh, little brother?” Liam laughed, his chuckle cut off with a wince when he knocked his leg on a tree root that was sticking up out of the ground.

Naked and covered in blood, patches caked onto his skin and matted in his chest hair, Killian laughed dryly. “Younger,” Killian droned sarcastically. “Can’t wait to see what you have planned for when I’m twenty-one.”

#cssns #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #cssns fanfic #Alii dimidium Lunam #the other half of the moon #killian jones #emma swan #wolves of misthaven #artistic-writer #temporary dog au #ch13 #brothers jones