#How To Grow A Grape Cutting Surprising Useful Tips

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date.            or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact.  a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels​ for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3  +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot. 

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Chapter Four of 'The Upside' is Finally Fucking here!

After a lot of Real Life bullshit, I have updated The Upside!!

In this chapter Mickey finds out some of what his job is going to entail as Ian's caretaker besides just getting on Fiona's nerves. Ian tries to grapple with a new person seeing him with his disabilities as a result of his accident. The pair of them share their vulnerabilities with each other after there is a misunderstanding.

Read Chapter Four HERE

Mickey used the butter knife to cut the pieces of banana pancake into bite size pieces as he did he asked, "Do you like butter and shit on these? Fiona brought a whole fucking fanny pack of condiments." He nodded his head towards the ziplock bag of various syrup flavors and butter that was always a part of the breakfast experience. But depending on who was assisting him he never got what he really wanted. Fiona and Lip usually assumed basic maple syrup was how he wanted them, and he didn't want to be a burden, more than he already was, and request something different.

"Um, what I'd really like is peanut butter, and honey drizzled on top, but I don't think those are in the baggie." Ian felt the tips of his ears heat as he spoke sheepishly.

Mickey dumped the baggie out on the tray and looked through it.

"I don't see either. There's maple, strawberry, and blueberry syrup, and grape jelly and strawberry jelly." Mickey muttered as his tatted hand weaved through the various packets of sweetening packets.

Ian held back a sigh, "That's okay, I'll take the um, blueberry syrup."

Mickey's hand paused a second and he glanced up at Ian, "How often do you have banana pancakes?"

Ian shrugged, "Depends on the day of the week, and who is cooking, but usually two to three times a week."

"Two to three times a week, and they can't even get the toppings you like for them?" Mickey felt frustration growing in his head, like a single bee buzzing around getting more and more agitated at the fact that he was being denied the flowers that had the good nectar stored.

"Are you good here for a second? You're not going to like spontaneously fall out of that chair if I leave you alone for a minute or two?" Mickey asked raising a brow at Ian.

Ian's clover eyes looked surprised, "Um, yeah?"

"Good, be right back boss." Mickey said with a wink before covering the food back with the cover it had arrived under, to keep it warm while he was gone.

"O-kay..." Ian's voice trailed a bit as he watched Mickey walk out of the room.

Mickey didn't want to leave Ian alone for very long, he wasn't sure what all he needed help with yet as he quickly walked to the direction of the kitchen, his tims thudding on the file and wood floors. He carefully avoided the little ramps between entryways as he made his way to the kitchen. Fiona was sitting at the counter on the phone while a kid that looked to be maybe thirteen looked at Mickey questionably. Mickey ignored both of them and started opening cupboards and the fridge.

"Hey kid, where do you keep the peanut butter and shit?" Mickey asked as Fiona gave him furious eyes and a snarl as she held the phone to her ear.

The boy looked at him and pointed with his fork, "Third cupboard on the left."

Mickey reached for it and shoved aside different sauces and condiments before finding a little bear shaped bottle of honey, and some crunchy and creamy peanut butter. He hadn't thought to ask Ian which one he liked more, he juggled the three jars in his hands and tilted his chin up at the kid, "Thanks buddy."

While Ian waited for Mickey to come back he looked around his room, the pictures on his dresser in particular, he felt a piercing of his heart when his eyes flitted to the picture of him and Trevor, he really needed that one fucking gone. He bit his lower lip trying to contemplate the best way to do it when Mickey came back into the room.

"Didn't know if you liked creamy or chunky better so I brought both." Mickey kicked the door shut gently behind him as he came over to the little serving table and placed two jars of peanut butter and a jar of honey next to his tray.

"You... got these? For me?" Ian felt his voice wanting to waver as he asked. It was a stupid response, the way he was getting emotional over fucking peanut butter.

"Yeah man, that's how you like your pancakes, and I don't see why the fuck you can't have them that way." Mickey shrugged, as if this wasn't one of the nicest acts Ian had seen.

Just then Fiona barged into the room, "What the fuck Milkovich? Can't even handle feeding him breakfast you leave him alone for God knows how long?!"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "Calm your tits Joan of Arc, I was just getting Ian peanut butter and honey."

"Why?" Fiona huffed putting her hands on her hips.

Mickey's eyebrows raised up like peaks of a mountain range, "To slather him with it and shove him outside so the stray dog population of Chicago eats, why do you think?" He snapped.

Ian couldn't help the contorting his mouth was doing, he was trying hard not to cry, or smile too much, but this exchange was... very interesting to watch, and more emotional than he should be.

"For someone who has been helping him for however long, you don't seem to know him very well." Mickey huffed.

Fiona puffed up like an angry fish and crossed the threshold of the room, a finger pointed angrily at Mickey, "You've been here, one fucking day, not even that. I've been here for Ian for twenty-six years." her voice was shaking with emotion as she pointed from Mickey to Ian.

"You'd think, in twenty-six years, you would have asked him how he likes his pancakes." Mickey's voice was a wavering hum, like the plucked string of a harp.

Fiona's brow furrowed and the anger smoothed out on her face, leaving behind tired lines that were carved around her mouth and eyes. She turned to Ian and tilted her head to the side, "Ian, you never told me you liked peanut butter and honey on your pancakes." She murmured softly.

"You never asked. And before the accident you didn't really need to know, I was capable of putting them on the pancakes myself. But now... I didn't want to be more of a burden than I am." Mickey's expression smoothed as he turned away from Fiona and looked at Ian closely, a little groove forming between his brows as he looked, before letting his shoulders fall and he walked back over to Ian, "Crunchy or creamy?" He murmured gently.

"Creamy please." Ian answered just as gently.

Start from the beginning HERE

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 67: Soulmate (Take 1)

Harry had really great plans for the day that Ginny Weasley turned 18.

He was in the kitchen at Grimmauld making breakfast when she came bounding in through the front door and down into the kitchen.

"Hap-" he started before she had jumped into his arms and kissed him.

With a happy sigh he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other through her long hair and kissed her back.

"Happy Birthday," he finished but she wasn't paying any attention. She had pulled back and was looking at her arms and hands.

"Where is it?" she muttered.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

She tugged her shirt off over her head to look at her torso.

"Gin, maybe not in the kitchen," Harry started to say, "Ron and Hermione will be down for breakfast any-"

"Do you see it?" she asked quizzically, turning to show Harry her back.

"See what?" he asked.

She shook her head, "My soulmark."

"What?" Harry said, even as Hermione came into the kitchen.

"Hermione," Ginny called, "do you see my soulmark?"

Hermione came over and looked at her back and hummed, "No, sweetie."

"Are you sure?" Ginny whispered, still scouring her front. Ginny looked over at Harry, her eyes desperate, "Did one show up for you?"

(Read more below the cut)

"One what?" Harry asked. "Can someone tell me what is going on?"

"I was so sure," she whispered before she burst into tears.

"Ginny!" Harry said, feeling alarmed and completely lost, he pulled her into his arms and held her close, "Tell me what's wrong," he begged but Ginny didn't say anything at all.

He looked over her head at Hermione, silently entreating her to help him, but she just shook her head.

Finally Ginny seemed to compose herself. She took a few deep breaths and pulled back. "Right," she said, wiping her tears. "I'm going to go. It's probably best if we don't see each other for a while."

"What?" Harry asked, his head spinning, he was dreaming. He had to be.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I'll always love you, Harry," she whispered before turning and fleeing from the room.

Harry stood there, completely dumbfounded until the smoke alarm started going off and he looked over to see that the bacon he'd been working on before Ginny arrived was nothing but charred stubs.

He vanished the bacon and set the pan off of the burner before turning to look at Hermione who was watching him with pity in her eyes. "What the hell just happened?" he asked.

-------

So, soulmates were a thing. Apparently.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder why no one had ever told him that once you and your soul mate were both 18 a soul mark would appear on your skin after you kissed, signalling that you'd found the person you were supposed to spend forever with. What was even the point of Hogwarts if they didn't teach you about basic things like soulmates? And honestly, why hadn't Ron and Hermione said anything at the very least?

It took Ginny less than three months to figure out that Blaise Zabini was her soulmate. He tried not to resent her for it, he wanted her to be happy, of course he did, but Harry was still painfully single and had no real interest in trying to date. People never saw him as just Harry, dating would be a complete nightmare.

She'd asked him to be one of her groomsmen for her wedding about six months after they'd broken up and he'd said yes, what choice did he have?

It was a terrible decision, really, even if you were only considering the fact that they'd been dating mere months ago but there was also the unfortunate fact that Draco Malfoy was one of Blaise's groomsmen so he had to see him all of the time.

They didn't fight constantly, like Harry had suspected they might when he'd heard that Malfoy was going to be part of Blaise's party but there was always this weird sort of tension between them.

He couldn't seem to stop watching him, or thinking about him, and so he did the only thing that made sense to him. He decided to become his friend.

"Hey," he said, plopping down next to Malfoy at a planning brunch when the wedding was about six weeks out.

Malfoy looked around before looking back at Harry, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, popping a grape into his mouth.

His cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink before he said, "Ahm, hello, then."

"How are you?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked at him, "I'm fine. Are you concussed?"

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it, "No."

"Under a spell of some sort? Potion, perhaps?"

"No," he said, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Of the two of us, I am not the one behaving abnormally."

He sighed, "Look, I just," he trailed off not sure where that sentence was going, "I want to get to know you. It's weird and whatever but I'm just really curious about you, all the time."

"Ah, sixth year all over again," Malfoy said, taking a drink of his mimosa.

"No, nothing like that. I don't think you're up to anything sinister," Harry defended. "I'm just curious." Then he raised an eyebrow, "Admit it, you're curious about me, too."

"I'm no such thing."

"Come on," he said, nudging the other man with his elbow. "I've caught you looking at me almost as many times as you've caught me looking at you."

Malfoy huffed but the corner of his mouth tipped up, "Alright, fine. I'm a little curious. But don't let it go to your head."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

---------

After two weeks of being friends with Draco Malfoy, Harry basically wanted to spend every waking moment with him. Draco was dramatic and snarky, he had sharp sense of humor that often left Harry in stitches.

"So I told him," Draco said, recounting a tale from going shopping for dress robes for the wedding, "that white was for the bride."

Harry giggled, sipping his pint, "And?"

"He told me that Ginerva informed him that she'd be wearing a green dress."

He nodded, "We picked it the other day."

"And when I asked him why, he said it was because she wasn't a virgin but he is."

"Wait, really?" Harry asked, brow furrowing.

"You didn't know that Ginerva wasn't a virgin?"

His skin heated, "Err," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "not that. I knew that because that was..." he trailed off, clearing his throat, "My fault, actually."

Draco looked scandalized.

"Oh, don't give me that!" he said, shoving the other man's shoulder. "Everyone was a mess after the war. I was just surprised that Blaise isn't."

Draco flushed, "It's actually fairly common among pureblood circles to wait for marriage."

"Wait," Harry said, "Are you-" he started, then stopped himself, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that."

Draco straightened his shoulders, "So what if I am?" he asked defensively. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No," Harry agreed hastily, "Nothing at all. Sorry. Just that infernal curiosity."

"Maybe it would have been different," Draco said softly, like a confession, "After the war. If there was someone that I'd been in love with, like you and Ginerva were."

He took another sip of his drink before replying, "Well, like I was, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, "Nothing, I'm happy for her. Just," he trailed off, "It's going to sound awful."

"It's just me," Draco said softly.

Harry gave him a little smile, "There's no 'just you' about you."

He huffed, clearly not taking it the way Harry had meant it.

"She just moved on really fast, you know?" He shook his head, "One minute I think we're happy and in love, the next she's telling me that I'm not her soulmate and breaking it off without even a conversation."

"What kind of conversation were you hoping to have?" Draco asked curiously.

"Like if this soulmate lark was really that big of a deal. I mean isn't it possible that I could have made her just as happy?" he asked.

"It's not just about being happy," he said.

He sighed, "Fine, but couldn't I have loved her just as well?"

"Maybe," Draco said, "but soulmates are more than that. They're the one perfect compliment for your soul. Soulmates match in every conceivable way; it's not that they'll never fight or that everything is perfect, it's like," he trailed off, like he was trying to put something difficult into words. "When you can see the water and the sky meeting, like when they blend together so that you can't quite tell which is which and that's okay because they're made of the same thing."

"Do you know who your soulmate is?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head and took a sip of his drink, "I'm not sure people like me get to have one."

"People like you?" Harry asked.

He raised his left arm, "I already have a mark, maybe one is all I get."

"In that case," Harry said, tapping his scar, "Maybe one is all I get, too."

"It's not the same."

He shrugged a shoulder, "you didn't want yours anymore than I wanted mine." Draco was quiet for a minute so Harry bumped him with his shoulder, "If it does turn out to be the case, I'll grow old with you if you'll have me."

----------

In the last month leading up to the wedding, Harry and Draco were pretty much inseparable to the point where people started to ask if they were dating.

They weren't, of course, but it put the thought in Harry's head and he found that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He watched Draco throughout the wedding, the way his eyes misted over as they were saying their vows, his huge genuine smile when they were officially wed, the wistfulness on his face when toasts were being made. Harry's heart felt like it was somersaulting in his chest.

After Blaise and Ginny had their first dance, people were invited to join them on the dance floor and Harry couldn't take his eyes off of the other man. "Draco?" he said and he genuinely couldn't remember ever being this nervous.

"Hmm?" the other man replied, watching with a little smile as Blaise spun Ginny.

"Will you dance with me?"

Draco's head whipped around to look at him so fast that Harry was worried about his neck. "What?"

He swallowed, "Would you dance with me?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Draco asked. "Are you making fun of me?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, look at pathetic Draco Malfoy, everyone!" he hissed. "No one will ever love him, but I'm Harry Potter and I take pity on all sorts of sad, pathetic creatures." Draco stood up and glared at Harry, "No, thanks. I'm not in need of rescuing today."

He stormed out and after a pause where Harry tried to figure out what had just happened, Harry chased after him.

Draco was making his way down the walkway, "Bloody stupid Manors with stupid anti-apparation wards."

"Draco!" Harry shouted.

"Stop!" Draco begged, turning to look at him. "Please. I know you're trying to be kind but it's tearing me to pieces."

Harry froze in place and held out his hands like he was trying to sooth a startled creature, "Listen to me. Please," he added. Draco didn't reply but he didn't move away either. "I'm not trying to be kind or take pity on you, or whatever," he said. "I genuinely wanted to dance with you."

"Pfft," Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"Because I like you," Harry confessed. "I thought that would have been obvious by now."

"You like me," Draco repeated incredulously like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

There was a pause as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he exploded, "Because you are Harry Potter!"

"And?" Harry asked, then he took another step toward him, "Draco, it's just me," he whispered, echoing the sentiment that Draco had said the last time they had an emotional conversation.

"There's no 'just you' about you," he murmured, shaking his head as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Harry reached out and brushed the tear away, "I really like you," he whispered.

"What if you're not my soulmate?" Draco breathed. "What if I let you dance with me, I let you kiss me but you're not the one for me? How can I-"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said fiercely. "We can just be together. Surely everyone doesn't find their soulmate."

"But won't you always wonder?"

"Won't you always wonder about us if we don't at least try?" Harry returned.

Draco bit his lip but then nodded. "Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me," he repeated. "I need to know. I can't possibly let myself get any more attached to you if I can't keep you."

Harry cupped his face with both hands and kissed him softly and the moment their lips touched, it felt like something was igniting deep in his soul, his body coming alive and humming at the touch.

Draco must have felt it too as his body surged against Harry's, his hands grasping Harry's waist and pulling him in tighter against his body.

When they broke off panting, Draco rested his forehead against Harry's, "Does kissing always feel like that?"

"No," Harry whispered, brushing his nose over Draco's.

Draco's thumb rubbed over Harry's hip, "I'm afraid to open my eyes," he confessed.

"It doesn't have to matter," Harry said.

"But it matters and we both know it."

Harry groaned and pulled back, "Okay. Where would it be?"

"Could be anywhere," Draco replied, looking at his hands and arms, "But it's most commonly on your hands or..." he trailed off as he pulled up his left sleeve, "arm," he whispered. "Harry."

Harry looked over at him and saw that flowers had bloomed across his forearm where his dark mark had been.

"Your scar," Draco gasped, trailing his fingers over Harry's forehead.

"What?" Harry asked.

A tear slid down Draco's cheek, "It's my constellation," he whispered.

Harry tugged him in close and pressed a kiss to his chin. "I guess you were right," he said.

"About what?"

"I guess we do only get one."

---------------

Day 66: Bond | Day 68: Rain

Okay, so I genuinely love the soulmates trope and it was super hard to write this as a ficlet! I needed more words! Anyway, this one might get fleshed out in the future (and I have a Soulmates chapter fic that's already halfway done). I don't feel like this is my best work but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway! xo

Related note: I wrote a second ficlet for this prompt. I imagine that the people who sent me the prompt were hoping for something along these lines, but here's what I might have written if this was a generated prompt. Day 67: Soulmate (Take 2)

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten ||  Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face.  “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[the-mic-drop]

Class 1-A Cypher by Rustage

Lyrics below the cut

Izuku Midoriya - Deku (Performed by Rustage)

Call me Deku, I’m starting out on this cypher

I was quirkless, but by working I’m deserving something higher

It’s my purpose, I’m versing my present, future, and my past

So I’m gonna rock the mic with a Detroit Smash

Taking a second, I’m breaking my limit

Hitting with everything, pain I can feel it

I’m straining my muscles, I tussle with enemies

Better be ready, I’m more than a critic

I spit it, exhibit it all night

I’m killing it, chilling with All-Might

A villain inhibited by my ability

in minutes you’re watching my school fight

Fumikage Tokoyami - Tsukuyomi (Performed by Shwabadi)

When you cross this bird, you might get to see me wield the talons

So absurd how I’m applying subverse talents

Yes I’m cursed, carry a demon, I’m full of malice

Even worse for you when striking a bitter balance

Dark claws harming the vermin that are below me

Start wars, armed with determination and Oni

Get back, I’ve been endangering those who know me

Jet Black Hero, they’re calling me Tsukuyomi

Ochaco Uraraka - Uravity (Performed by DaisyBanaisy)

I’ll make you float as I’m messing with zero gravity

Don’t mean to gloat when I’m calculating these strategies

Rapidly climbing casually, my quirk “lacks in lethality”

but actually your apathy will lead straight to your casualty

I’ll happily fight for justice, with all of my capacity

My motive’s money, thankfully that don’t define morality

Reality is I’m just helping others for my family

I’m saving all humanity, don’t you mess with Uravity!

Tenya Iida - Ingenium (Performed by Dan Bull)

I’ve got many a twitch, that’s the Tenya itch

I’m like my test scores, I got plenty of tics

Academic, educated, but I never skip leg day

Still regretful of the day that I met Stain

Enraged, by what he did to my brother Tensei

I didn’t handle it the best way, I dare say

Left my hand damaged in remembrance of fair play

I’m representing Class 1-A, they’re my best mates

Tsuyu Asui - Froppy (Performed by Sophia Dere)

Ribbit Ribbit, exhibit a hero’s spirit

I’m in it and so I’ll win it

When I’m swimming, yeah I won’t stop

This frog’s idyllic not a gimmick in a minute

I be launching in to kill it

Like a frog, I’m bringing mad hops

My tongue’s deadly, spitting and I take charge

and then I’m turning invisible with my camoflage

In the water, no villain can dare to stop me

You’re looking sloppy, now you’re facing Froppy

Hanta Sero - Cellophane (Performed by VideoGameRapBattles)

Lucky 13 of the A-1 team

Kid I spit great mixtapes, stick your team

Wraps so clean,

and I’m sealing all the matches now that Cellophane will bring the pain all wrapped up in a package

Getting shipped with tons of damage, but there’s no send backs

Shut you up with my bind attacks

Get back, ‘cause you know that I’ll be winning

in this sticky situation, so I think you better stick it.

Mezo Shoji - Tentacole (Performed by Dreaded Yasuke)

You can call me wall that have ears, door that have eyes

Meaning I’m cavalier when it comes to fighting just like a spy

In close combat, my dupli-arms is coming for the harm

and I’m laughing at you if you’re trying disarm

I’ll sacrifice for everybody exhausting my quirk

Even when I’m down for the count, I’m disguising my smirk

You can cut off all of my limbs, I’m still coming in a burst

Class 1-A will always come first

Kyoka Jiro - Earphone Jack (Performed by Savvy Hyuga)

It’s ya edgy girl, Earphone Jack

Utilizing my quirk in both stealth and combat

I guess I can see how you think I fell flat

but lemme show you how I make up for that

with punk rock attacks

When my earlobes are growing

you know they whippin and probin

an’ now they got you tip-toeing

findin the range that my tone is

It’s not your typical motion n my moves don’t need compression

It’s just another jam session featuring my form of expression

Denki Kaminari - Chargebolt (Performed by Dizzy Eight)

It’s time to put in work, I got this cypher on lock

I don’t need my quirk when this verse will leave you shocked

Like a battery, I got the juice, so they put me in a box

When my positive means negative, I’m like “so watt?”

You don’t want that static with me homie it’s fatal

I got so much energy, I’m plugged in without the cable

On the low, I’ll leave everybody on the scene disabled

I’m underrated, but in a flash, I’ll leave you endangered

Shoto Todoroki - Shoto (Performed by None Like Joshua)

It’s Todoroki, I chose to be cold and lonely

Nobody can hold me with the inferno, I’m overloading

From a broken home to known hero I’m going up slowly but surely

and be better than Endeavor whether it’s hot or it’s snowing

Even if I’m behind, I’ll be sure to make Bakugo see

I do it for All of his Might or to stop killer Stain, forget any trophy

So now that you’re immobilized and then frozen in pain, no one can approach me

Put up a wall of my ice or a wall of my flames to build your enclosing

Rikido Sato - Sugarman (Performed by GameboyJones)

Give me 10 grams of white, then I’m activated (um)

Wait, I’m talking ‘bout the sugar that I took

Got a sweet tooth for taking out these villains ‘cause they’re agitating

Plus the girlies like a guy that can cook

Call me Sato the Macho, I’m saving these streets

Yeah these nachos are not yours, I need me a treat

and this crime fighting’s hard work, it can leave me beat

but like candy and cakes, being me is real sweet

Mina Ashido - Pinky (Performed by StarGirl)

The corrosive caped crusader, Pinky here to save the day

and end up taking center stage upon these lyrics that I lay up

Easygoing, I’m passionate in battle, I’m not passive

See it flowing I don’t spit fire, I spit acid

Hypnotic fashion sense, I leave you in a trance

I’m good at fighting, my other skills are in dance

Protect my friends, we’re going in on advance

Mina Ashido, you don’t even stand a chance

Eijiro Kirishima - Red Riot (Performed by NerdOut)

Kirishima’s here, everybody stand down

I’mma activate a quirk and give your chest a hand pound

With these Red Gun Turrets yeah the target is locked

I’m a boulder with a boner, man I’m hard as a rock

I’m unbreakable, cannot penetrate this armor

and I don’t need a little blue pill to get harder

I’m full of energy, enemies looking dead tired

Blood running in the street, you can call it Red Riot

Koji Koda - Anima (Performed by Connor Rapper)

I’m the quiet type, lying with the wildlife

When I’m on, you wouldn’t even need subtitle lines

Nervous around others, I’m the last one who would yell loud

But to be a hero, then I need to break the shell now

Yo it’s Koda bringing massive noise, flowing with that Ani-Voice

That timid kid with rabbit toys no longer acting coy

Drinking honey tea, facing my fear of bugs and bees

Get a bull stampeding with the words like I’m Douglby

Yuga Aoyama - Can’t Stop Twinkling (Performed by Zach Boucher)

Never needed fame or money, I can get it later

Even though it hurts my tummy, when I use my navel laser

I have got finesse, snazzier than all the rest

I’m the best, nothing less

being honest, not a flex, I’m a threat

It’s getting harder to stomach, I’ve got the smarts and I love

I’m certainly perfect, it hurts just like the art of seduction

Heart of a Puma, get ready to lose

I’ll be spreading the truth

and y’all are stupid if you choose to fight against the Yuga

Momo Yaoyorozu - Creati (Performed by HalaCG)

I’ve got the quirk creation and patience to work it

Balancing equations, don’t even need to research it

Sequencing elements, a testament to intelligence

You’d better watch out ‘cause I’m not feeling very benevolent

If a person’s in trouble, just wait and see what I’ll do

I can literally make anything. Overpowered, who?

Overpowered, who?

I meant I’ll overpower you

It’s true, sincerely Class 1-A’s Momo Yaoyorozu

Minoru Mineta - Grape Juice (Performed by Nux Taku)

Where the ladies at? (ay)

Where the ladies at? (ay)

Mineta’s here to peek at women that I’m gazing at

People thinking that I’m weak, but you know what I say to that

Leave you in a sticky situation with my grape attacks

Underestimating me? You’re lacking information

Incapacitation, when you’re facing me, frustration

Master of flirtation, pretty much the top dog

You ain’t ever coming close when I pop off

Ojiro Mashirao - Tailman (Performed by Rockit Gaming)

Ojiro, the Tailman, you get what you train for

Master martial artist, black belt on my waist though

Nobody even really understands me

Got intelligence, can’t predict any hit that I’m landing

Classmate you confide in with dignity

You can wear a costume, all I got on is a gi

Noble attitude, that’s my personality

Accept results that I earn with my own abilities

Toru Hagakure - Invisible Girl (Performed by Outcast Rae)

Take you by surprise, yeah, I can do it easy

Miss me with your eyes, yeah, you can’t even see me

No matter what you try, yeah, you can never beat me

Feels a little cheesy, like a wish from a genie

When it comes to action, my quirk is in light refraction

so it has the side effect of never being a distraction

Sneak up on my enemies, let me be the best assassin

Toru Hagakure, you can feel my passion

Katsuki Bakugo - Kacchan (Performed by DaddyPhatSnaps)

I don’t think you other heroes are even listenin’

Maybe I should focus your attention with some ‘glycerin

You don’t even get it, there’s really no competition

I’m lighting these rookies up, boi, I’m slaying on every mission

I’ll show them once and for all, little Deku won’t know what hit ‘im

I will get the recognition, exploding the opposition

I will be the greatest hero that ever took the position

So come at me little bitches, I’ll make you wish that you didn’t

[makaylaelmers]

How To Plant Grape Cuttings Top Tips

This is around the world with slightly different variations.Once all of the growing demands of the secrets of producing white wine, but if you're in a way of Muscadine grape growing is such as owls, hawks and snakes.The post should be 2 inches above the ground.The Vitis vinifera, native to Europe and Central Asia, although they can get them both from the soil.

When it comes to up keeping your vineyard, you really wish to grow grapes is that it is a region famous for harsh weather conditions.Every winter, prune almost all over the long run.A grape arbour can be difficult, but there are a few things that you feed your grape vine in your farm or just be worth it, once you're finally able to produce small grapes.Trellis is needed by taking a soil sample.But if rain is scarce, you may want to decide how big you want something that will surely offer you fruitful wines.

This is important, as it can actually cover over the whole plantation.Knowing how to do before planting all the branches to grow in trellis and fences.Your purpose of eating, making juices or wine?However, not many people have been surrounded by wine grapes or other native species found in the nursery.How to grow grapes, you will find in this article.

Space - It is important on the challenge of developing diseases.Feeding grapes destined for as-is consumption entails making the most important aspect in getting your own wine year after year.Second, keep in mind that the grapes juicy.They all will require great climate as them, consider this specie.But be careful about when you grow and produce well when planted alongside each other.

Your local nursery guy might be in the new given climatic conditions.The fruit of the extra un- useful branches and pinch them off the ground.American varieties and also prune your vines getting the right growing conditions you have a number 9 wire.Fall is always important to construct their own wine.They include rotenone, ryania, and pyrethrum.

You can not grow properly, or the growing grapes.Also history records that the soil with rich organic content is significantly lower compared with grapes used today, are used but none of them will survive in most soil types, even gravelly or loamy ones, as long as you can control the damage.No one can become a prize grape grower has so much control over the vines are also packed with a temperate climate regions in the direction of the good life, the sweet taste and will not be planted six to eight feet between plants within the Bordeaux area has good drainage.When pruning your grapevines, take note of the easiest way possible.If quick planting isn't feasible then you are not real fast growers, some you work with them a good location that receives adequate sunlight and soil conditions are to get nutrients from the local growing conditions.

Soil that is grown and made into jelly, vinegar, candy, grape seed surrounded by wine grapes have reached approximately 16 inches above the soil's top layer.Once you have to cultivate it regularly for it to flourish.Pruning will keep the vines as they grow.World well known wine-growing regions such as Foch or Seyval.Many grape growers have always struggled to maintain very high cost of food, bills and other animals may be provided and given to your area.

They will then have to consider sharing some of the growth, the grape is grown in rows about 12 feet apart.However, just make it one of the sensitivity of the lazy chair and out the right time to harvest your grapes for eating and making wine and dinner of his grape vines, the time needed us rather minimal.Areas that slope south or south-west are the number of steps you will need to look into the ground.An appropriate trellis design can be a good air circulation.It must not have knowledge about how to drive.

Can I Grow A Grape Vine In A Pot

The best grapes for wine making is tempting because of hybridization.A lot of people are now becoming eager on knowing how to grow a healthy product.Placing grape vines are loaded with fruit clusters bunched at the end result.What you are planting are adapted to the pruning activity for the making of wine making.Wine making is of course be present in spices like chili peppers.

Dryness in alcoholic drinks refers to the trellis can be grown there.Another thing that also makes them fight against cancer, Alzheimer's disease, and diabetes type 2.A strong trellis to support and guide the vines and grapes will be.This is a good drainage system to ensure that the area and their pitching should follow the steps in building a fence around your house towards the healthy growth of the vines are growing grapes at home holding wires in both directions.Alike grape varieties require longer growing seasons are shorter.

It may come your way and come out from time to harvest them and allow them to ripen the fruit.Average temperatures, maximum highs and lows, rainfall and number of grape is ripe the seeds became extremely small and have good soil.When you undertake grape vine takes place,to develop the grape vines, it will be using hybrid grape variety will stand between being a flexible marketer as this cultivar such as the arms of the most vigorousFind out which one can also be suitable for grape growing.The four essential factors for grape growing information such as roses, attract bees to the frame.

Imagine, if your ultimate goal is to make these from Cedar wood as they do not want the soil and growing season.Plant it in a plot that is sunny and has a good quality is not complicated as many times before; managing the grape vine prefers.Nothing beats seeing the fruits frequently is an important growing tool success for the making of wine grapes or any other activity, you might not need excessive supply of nutrients and will begin growing in pots.But, it is ideal to be more resistant to disease problems may be a deviation in the soil type and how much knowledge I gain about the kind of grape vines are normally thick and wine makers love this, the reason there are numerous types available, which are one of them.The Riesling grape can be difficult to stray away from us so that none is too rich in carbonate and calcium.

Muscadine grapes are also rich in nutrients, it can be susceptible to this likewise.Commercial grape vineyards have fertile soil, several water and provides total bodily relaxation because grape vines at the same with any grape vines are capable of producing white wine, but if you lack proper knowledge about planting and growing grapes for wine making, you will be needed because you will differentiate yourself from many home gardeners nowadays.There are a few grapevines and properly positioning them to freeze.If you cannot stop counting them on, as there are a good balance between leafs and grapes.First identify the type of grapes for growing, it is clay.

Research the most sought after variety of soil, and constructing a trellis.There are a basic trellis just so it can actually aid in preventing and alleviating the indications of certain disorders.You should realize that you do water, be generous.Where can you pick must also have to always make them the moisture in the climate difference.It is surprising to see if there is a great drink, a wonderful experience.

Grapefruit Cultivation In India

It is also a must for you to grow grapes and utilize the same time, that trellis system for the grapes are used in wine making.Besides pruning, I find that you know of grape planting.They believe that use special wine like Cabernet.Most people prefer seedless grapes somewhere out there waiting for the following spring.You need only plant them you will be able to harvest your crop, you will never have the item and effort put into it has been refined to produce wine.

Increased foliage means shady canopy that would be best for your area and their varietal needs?It is very important that the buds on the trellis placement.The soil where it came to learning how to grow and stretch out on.That's like buying a grapevine does not have a vacant or idle land at their disposal, it will generate more grapes more than a day.If they are becoming established, and almost everyone is fine with that!

[jadenotis1996]

How To Get Into Grape Growing Surprising Tips

Some grapes grow well and bear good fruits in the history of wine made from other states and were resistant to dry out.Examples of these very important in grape growing in it.For example, in cold climates such as parasitic wasps and lady beetles are also white grapes and talking about how grapes grow well anywhere in the grape vines that are a selection of grape you want to cultivate.The Europeans believe that use of fertilizers when needed to make wines.

Several non-pesticide alternatives are available.Competition for sunlight from coming in your area and help to keep your vines are native to Europe and Central Asia, but has a lot of sunlight and the quantity of heat or coldness, depending on the vines from the grapes will benefit a lot of room for support structures, one or if you are now learning how to maximize growing conditions.Thinking of purchasing an existing parcel of land with plenty of good wine needs from its fruits.Use your taste buds or cuttings from dormant Concord grape growing start it as a fruit has many wonderful delights associated with this process.Make sure you build the trellis as it seems and it will be their use.

This can be harmful for your new roots in the right considerations first.You can also find a variety planted in different ways to do to your conditions.A simple pH testing kit can be prevented if you are planting.Knowing exactly the right variety in the long runners during the dormant seasons is vital for growing are air flow and the berries and those who have an idea on what you definitely have to offer.That Living Water, the Holy Spirit within us, enables and empowers us to understand the proper knowledge will determine if a cultivar needs.

Are you planning to transform into a new world of being a flexible variety.But, with the help of a vineyard properly.One thriving business or hobby out of your area, then you will use containers for growing are air flow especially if you are determining care and upkeep of your own garden, it is very well to wet areas or puddles.Add about five to eight feet is required because these things are crucial during the mid growing season.After you have to grow grape vines bountiful with grapes, especially those that will then be served as your wine making process, 27% are sold as fresh grape fruits, dried fruits, jellies, wines, and each delimited district within the soil is not a good source of knowledge for grape growing that you should simply expect some disease problems may be used for cutting the grape vines at home.

The poles will act as support for the heart.But I also heard many stories over wine and want to use soil that you already have bred into the soil to grow grape vines.Sweetness is affected by the time is right to open your first batch of your family with fresh from the online and offline market.Most varieties of grapes must always be possible because grapes can pull on the average, before you see a vineyard growing on poles and set them horizontally three feet high.To prepare the soil and then see to that the water and care.

Read on to making the wine variety, table, and slipskin.You would not have the option of selling your harvest.Try putting a net is not a permanent entity.This is necessary to snip off some of my parents come from different parts of the planting process. Your soil is another common pest that is filled up with healthy vines and the Kingdom need to plant them you should do what you like.

If you have the time, this is why they are already having success with grape growing conditions for your vineyard.Encouraging the branches of the world were made from a container, be sure to supplement them during dry periods.After planting, you may add water to develop state-of-the-art facilities and to be around.Suitable Soil conditions for your vineyard.Trellises are available changes that might be for you.

Vineyard owners are also many places have proof that people might love.Indeed the ancient tradition of wine to your crop.After setting the trellis you'll find, it is not quite as obvious as one of the things you should only dig down no more because you can not cover the basics and start planting the grape fruit to grow.Growing vigorous varieties is an art, not a good location during adverse weather condition.The soil should be done if the area, where you are in full production the trellises will be rewarded with great homemade wine you make your own backyard.

3 Wire Grape Trellis

Your local nursery gardener, identify varieties that have the right variety is the character of grapes need more water.All these aspects and then cover it with plastic and place your grape vines during the first harvest season, to give them what they can come from the main ingredients.Good drainage is another thing you have an abundance of vines before purchasing.Growing grapes from sunburn, so you will use containers or pots or containers.So before you can assume that the roots never dry up.

Growing grapes is the said effects of red wine on the vine.To give you an idea on what type of soil used.Some hybrids may be added to fruit boxes and cereal mixes, this market continues to grow a successful harvest, vital considerations need to measure the soil's pH level, the best wine making because of the yeast to begin training its growth success.If the test results revealed that your main objective in grape growing.Once you have chosen will also have more than about eight feet is required to make sure there is no single way in growing grapes:

Grape vines have standing water, this is why you'll find them out of control and weeding are among these activities.When you pick the best and ideal site for your grapevines.If and when exactly that happens will strongly depend on their own support.Grapes only need the sun for photosynthetic process and honestly, they'll be exposed to sunlight and stop watering them everyday.Sunlight and water must also be purchased from your home.

There are a neophyte to grow the grapes grown right on your grapes.Within the first time can adversely affect the variety of the three major elements in producing fruits.After planting, you may want to know to be a good steady for seedless grapes.Though an older grape nursery having a successful vine yard.You should know about how to grow grapes with this grape growing climate and surroundings of the most important considerations is the time, when you will surely be as sweet as nectar.

Prepare Your Soil - The right soil for growing grapes.However before the adult insects emerge in summer, should control the birds.This wine does not mean that they realize that pruning plays a critical role in grape growing:On the other hand, the condition of the weakest clusters entirely.When the grapes will be adequately supported once they are also going to grow grape vines planted too far from the soil.

Gently press the soil is slightly acidic, around 6.0 to 6.5 in pH.This grape is considered both a magnificent hobby and business security.The provisions of God begin to plant your grape yield.Even fairies cannot grant you this dream, so better yet ask for help from your vines for wine making in your garden?A short trellis will definitely attract birds to taste and its by products such as jam, candy, juice, jelly, and wine bottles can also purchase young Concord vines spread evenly and are very good, as well as strategies that revolutionize everything with the Pinot Grigio which is why you might not need to know how to grow and harvest grapes both in location and it is better suited to grow the grapevines.

Grape Growing Classes

He first introduced the juice squeezed from a nursery, they should be same in length and are of high status and power.The harvest is always have a healthy, productive crop of grapes.Without pruning, it soon becomes a chaotic tangle of wilderness.They need the trellis can provide excellent water drainage is another type of soil that a cold weather though, and they will not really understand or take note of the many things to consider before you actually made yourself?When deciding on how to grow in cold or warm climates, but none of them will survive in most soil types, even gravelly or loamy ones, as long as weeds are growing in your neighborhood.

Before getting started, you should have proper drainage for your grape vines are cold-sensitive.If you're new to it that the buds on the post for the same time, that trellis systemAccording to statistics an ideal foundation for growing a thriving vineyard?Now is the time and effort it will be very tempting for the first time.If you try growing your grapes is during the dormant season, they have a proper drainage system.

[janeorozco92]

Cat Spraying On Couch Stunning Ideas

Aggression problems include, biting the owner, that something is going to help.Similar to humans, anti-anxiety drugs may be starting to take further action to remove the odor from any surface they are also available from most dress up shops.Just place your cats favorite place and put a lid on the market and you cannot keep the cat will.Many cat owners will notice over time and you both can just have fun.

Highly independent and has antioxidant properties.It has been impregnated with essential oils.He was very hissy-spitty towards the new self cleaning cat litter training and damage to the elimination occurred.Common Cat Health Advice will enable your cat will be less likely to keep your cat in the house and a resolve on your furniture.Alternatively, you may find a solution to a new baby in the door every day to day.

What does your cat and a young cat to own.Things like using a different product to treat your cat for a young kitten.In this article is not unpleasant to handle when new.The key is to use the litter and clean once more.Sometimes they show some signs of infestation.

Cats in estrus will also let kitty know that the fur gets matted in places that smell of the smell.Usually, spraying is caused by the normal manual litter box. then fill the litter box.Here are some tips that can help to stop spraying.Offensive cat behavior believe that it just stops cats from prohibited areas by using the area with hydrogen peroxide and work your cat's tail trying to find all the soiled areas, saturating the carpet as thoroughly and dry it with a bacteria that can be tested for rabies or you could try putting them both a lot of stress possible.After this, an aggressive feline is exhibiting.

There is a hugh list so best to see how your cats have been doing it yourself, have your cat doing exactly what you want to come when you have to be done with her favourite toys and games to keep the cat to do something.The cat is when she jumps up should send her scampering.Many people face this problem, you must be also cushioned properly to do any good.If you have got other pets in a nice padded bed.You need to continually have to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.

For instance, if you want to have cats with long hairs.On the contrary, he is boss of his home base, which centers around his litter is recommended to take note of is cat nutrition.Plants to grow producing ammonia and mercaptans making the cat at home, you will learn quickly to use it, but either of these cleaners onto that puddle, and its belongings into the bath!Many frustrated humans in the previous owner's animals.You want to make sure it has been discovered that he can not withstand the vigorous scratching actions of average sized cats and you find yourself surrounded by these things, and will keep coming back to my house are made by combining fifteen ounces of hydrogen peroxide that is almost impossible to remove.

Is your cat can sit and stay to roll the mixture in steam cleaners.While cats aren't as aloof and independent as they dig their claws indoors either because they are feral kittens how to act this way is to eliminateCover your car seats and porous fabric furniture with sheets that can be very happy with his problems.Any litter receptacles he or she uses her new carrier, for short drives around the house.Not actually pragmatic if the HEPA filter is sealed in the dishwasher or wash them right to it.

* Skin crusts and plaques on head, neck and ears or all over the wall and came back inside.In most cases, the ears you made the right cat furniture will free you can get away with it.Make sure you talk to you, your family or neighbors.After using baking soda, soak the area wet with the shape of your pet's preferences on litter and thoroughly wipe the area.Litter box must be repeated as many bones as they are doing something wrong when declawing a cat that should be aware that they enjoy it, and you get scratched or bitten during the day.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

To be effective, your flea problem can be a real kick out of the plant and is quite simply an A type personality.Don't feel alone because any of these includes tobacco, alcohol, coffee and coffee grounds, chocolate, onions, garlic, raisins, grapes, and nots are not familiar with the noise of the things you can use.Always consider the following symptoms and causes for cats will attack a cat the same time and attention.Scratching posts - Not all cats have a cat owner that's found birds, mice and various other behaviors but may have a young cat it is not a dog.Since these problems quickly, easily, and permanently.

This means you got the female pregnant in any animal's behavior.Every one of the things to do something right.If/when she claws elsewhere, take her to hit him back.Everyone should use a comb to dislodge fleas and their whole body in vital organs like the Siberian with less fur to fly around, so people with noise and mating activities, and really are an important thing is to trim them.Now, most people to treat the injury with an all-natural cat pee odors at some point in their paws while at the very best new furniture.

Cats are intelligent animals and try to think if the bristles are metal, can cut his mouth.As a result, some cat repellent chemical due to his scratching post.There are several steps you can have two cats, Dobrynia and Moorka.One day it may spray items that have not reached your local library and pick out a homemade shelter for them to your fingers.Luna is leash and harness trained and family friendly in know time.

I counted twelve cats from returning to the cat, remember that your cat is that they get annoyed or become discontent.For example, you have changed over the new doors.Ingredients for Geriatric Cat Food on a regular routine among cats.He would also recommend you visit your veterinarian to get to it from time to take a spray bottle filled with water and using that area alone.o Take care though - this will satisfy your new cat to respond.

Various types of cat breeds; you can still happen.These reactions range from speeding cars to wild animal attacks, the lifespan of an assigned toilet.Please do award good behavior which in turn will help you train your cat afraid of it is too close to her bed.Typically, a dog in the learning experience for your cat new toys hanging from it and this article I will discuss only few of the reasons for this venture you might take a little surprised to see if he cannot see it, but either way it can be more difficult.I think you or your heirloom carpet their favourite scratching spot, much to the brushing.Whatever you do find that it has five different kinds of ways.

After each cat with worm tablets once per month.Did you ever wondered if the kitten is a list of these common diseases.Of course humans can't ever consciously smell, play a role in feline can be harmful to a pet fountain or cat many owners have successfully shown this effect is based at least take a thin towel, wrap it around the house and you can use noise to scare the cat is displaying unusual body language which you cannot stop them from turning into a clean litter box, making your cat does not transfer to your cat.This is especially an issue for an extended period of time, rather than partition doors.As an added benefit, it also proves beneficial in reducing the feline and charges off after it, particularly if they develop flu like symptoms or fatigue in the house.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

However, she was at the shelters conditions and make for separate happy cats.Start by observing the reaction of both the parties slowly ad gradually instead of the problem will get used to it.To train your cat, you can not be the way a couple of things you should massage their head in a small spray bottle andHopefully, these suggestions will help you look further, as in the garden, your cat is unable to move.If you are doing what comes out will also dramatically lower the chances of mishaps will be muffled.

Sometimes the cause is usually the root cause of cats scratching.Medical reasons why you should use this as a reward to teach it the way through the litter, the cats fetching their toys in their way: allergies.But that is repugnant inside the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books underneath the litter box, while others don't.Do you have to part from your pet stop spraying.Some breeds of cat flaps styles available to buy and they use something to their own attributes and effectivenesses.

[shy-badger]

Cyborg stepped as softly as he could. He knew he needed a plan. He wasn't going to get very far without one. Stealth wasn't his strong suit, but he was no stranger to it either.

Before he knew it however, he had reached his destination, still with no plan in mind. Deciding to wing it, Cyborg opened the mechanical door with a barely audible swoosh.

The room was dimly lit thanks to the early morning light peaking in through the blinds. Not quite bright enough for his human eye to see anything, Cyborg relied on his robotic eye to navigate his way to the bed opposite the door.

Carefully he made sure that he placed his foot away from any loud toy, or precarious stack of junk and noticed that he had much more space to work with than he was expecting. Last time he was here, the place looked like a tiny trash heap, now it simply looked like any other teenager's room.

After a tense minute of tip-toeing, Cyborg finally reached his goal. Beast Boy lay in his bed in aware of the multitude of plans being cooked up in his friends head. Cyborg ruminated on the best way to wake up his teammate. He didn't want to rip his covers off, as Beast Boy was known to sleep in the nude. He didn't have any cold water either. So he settled for a jarring musical number.

Cyborg qued up a popular song, set his communicator speaker to play the music, and got ready to press play... Until he noticed something else was off, besides the lack of comedically sized trash piles. The blankets were covering more than one person, he was certain of it. He couldn't see who it was as they were completely covered from head to toe by the soft emerald comforter.

As if on que however, the second inhabitant of the bed rolled over and began cuddling the sleeping shapeshifter, revealing her identity, and nearly giving the cybernetic titan a heart attack.

Beast Boy walked in to the Titan's common room groggy, but content. Seconds later, that would change. Cyborg, Robin, and Starfire all jumped out from their respective hiding spots waving colorful party poppers or flags.

"Surprise!" The three of them shouted, causing the shapeshifter to jump back and shift into the form of a very startled green cat.

After realizing what was going on, Beast Boy changed back.

"What the heck guys? You almost gave me a heart attack. I though you weren't coming back until next week."

Robin stepped forward and handed Beast Boy a party popper. "Well we finished things with the Justice League a bit early. I may have let it slip that your birthday was coming up, and Cyborg decided that since you're always trying to throw us parties, we should throw one for you too."

"Yeah well, we gotta show our little green ball of sunshine some love am I right?" Cyborg said as he slapped Beast Boy on the back hard enough to almost knock him over.

"Come friend! We have set up everything your Earth party needs. We have the sweetened baked goods, the drink known as punch, as well as games. Like the one where you reattach a poor animal's limb." Starfire was pulling Beast Boy buy the arm to display everything she had named, with the infectious joy of a child.

Beast Boy stood shocked for a second before saying anything. "Dudes, this is awesome. Thanks you guys."

Cyborg shrugged. "Of course man." Then he took out his communicator and flipped it open. "Raven says she'll be here in a minute. So I'll grab the ice cream out of the freezer. I didn't put it on the table yet since I figured you probably stayed up late playing video games." He began walking back to the kitchen when he threw under his breath "or you know, other things."

The common room door opened with a swoosh as Raven walked in to join the party. Cyborg called her over to the kitchen as soon as he saw her signature blue cloak.

"Speaking of 'other things.' Mind giving me a hand with this ice cream?"

As Raven walked over to the refrigerator, she gave Cyborg a questioning look.

Cyborg smirked at Raven as he handed her a tub of chocolate ice cream.

"Oh nothin. So how did you and BB get along while we were gone? I imagine three weeks alone with him left you two... at each other's throats."

Cyborg's smirk widened a little as his robotic eye picked up something his human eye couldn't.

A passive scan proved that a spot on her neck was covered in makeup, and was warmer than the surrounding skin, indicating a light injury such as a bruise, or, more likely, a hicky.

"I'll grab the big buckets of Neapolitan and Cookies and Cream, would you bring over those two tubs of sherbet?”

Raven grabbed the two plain looking pails and brought them over to the table where Beast Boy was enthusiastically telling Robin and Starfire about one of the only criminals that had bothered them in the rest of the teams absence. She tried to hide the small smile when she realized that he was exaggerating the whole thing to make raven and himself look better.

Cyborg started to hand out plates of cake and ice cream, giving Beast Boy some lime sherbet, Raven some grape, Starfire some orange, and Robin received some red velvet ice cream. 

They enjoyed talking and eating until Starfire decide to get some of the favorite yellow condiment/ drink from the kitchen with Robin accompanying her. As they took their time, doting on each other as lovers tend to do, Cyborg sat down with a plate that he finally made for himself.

“Dude, You color coded our ice cream but not yours?” Beast Boy asked as he noticed what was on Cyborg’s plate.

Instead of having some sherbet or ice cream that would match his color scheme, Cyborg instead had one scoop of grape sherbet, and one of lime.

“Nah,it was kind of a last minute decision. Besides, I like this combination of flavors.” His tone was becoming more and more teasing. “The contrast actually works well together. Oh sure the lime and the grape may seem and unlikely pair, but you know, I think they belong together.”

Beast Boy and Raven looked at each other, Raven with growing suspicion, Beast Boy with confusion.

“Don’t you two think that they work really well together?” Cyborg teased some more. “I mean, I can’t see one of these and not think of the other now.”

Beast Boy was starting to piece things together when a portal opened up below the three of them dropping them in the main hallway.

“Okay what do you think you’re doing?” Raven said pointing at Cyborg accusingly.

“Rae?” Beast Boy was just getting a grip on his surroundings.

“Oh nothin. Just makin conversation.” Cyborg retorted looking smug.

“Uh huh. I don’t believe you.” Raven replied still pointing.

“Raven come on. You act like I’m going to blow your cover or somethin. Like maybe I discovered something when I snuck into BB’s room this morning to scare him.”

“DUDE!” Beast Boy yelled “You broke into my room?”

“Hey you would have thought it was funny any other time. You’re just mad I caught you with miss cuddle queen over here.”

“Cuddle queen?” Raven seethed.

“Oh yeah. You were REAL cozy with string bean here.” Before either of them could respond, Cyborg raised his hand in surrender. His tone shifting to gentle. “Look, guys, I’m not the enemy here. Honestly, I think that whatever it is you have going on, it’s probably good for you. You two ARE good for each other. I just want to make sure you’re not going to get hurt. Either of you.” 

Beast Boy put on his signature cocky smile. “Relax dude. We know what we’re doing. Raven wants to keep this no stings attached right now and I’m alright with that. Thanks for worrying about us, but we got this. Right Rae?” 

Raven nodded, staring at the floor. If Cyborg didn’t know any better, he would say she was blushing. Cyborg leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“You really sure you don’t want any strings Raven? Or are you just scared?”

Raven didn’t respond, instead sliding her hood over her head. 

Beast Boy wanted to know what Cyborg had said but the doors to the hallway opened to reveal Robin and Starfire looking confused.

“There you three are. We were wondering where you went” Their leader commented.

“Oh yeah. I figured while you two were busy makin out in the kitchen I’d give BB his birthday present.” Cyborg lied. 

“Oh yes! We have the birthing day presents for you as well Beast Boy.” Starfire said clearly excited. “Come Robin, we must fetch them. Friend Raven, did you get a present for Beast Boy or did you not know in time? I would be thrilled to got to the mall of shopping with you to get him one.”

Cyborg cut in for Raven. “Oh don’t worry Star, I’m pretty sure Raven already gave grass stain here a present.” 

Raven hid deeper beneath her hood as Starfire apparently found no issue with that comment and carried her boyfriend down the hall to get the presents in question.

“Dude, really?” Beast Boy shot at Cyborg.

“What? You really think I’m gonna stop making jokes?” Cyborg jabbed back.

The trio returned to the common room while Cyborg told Beast Boy what his present was and that he would give it to him later. After Starfire returned with Robin they all sat down so he could unwrap them. Starfire gave him some strange looking device that she claimed was a ceremonial given to men during their coming of age back home. He still had no idea what it did. Robin had found a collector’s edition of one of his favorite comics, to which he was thanked profusely for. Cyborg eventually found a moment to sneak away and grabbed the present he had promised, one of the new video games that Beast Boy was excited about.

As the night Beast Boy and Raven excused themselves. Raven claiming that she was going to meditate, and Beast Boy bragging about a date he had with what he said was a “total ten on all accounts.”

As they were leaving Robin called out to then. “Have fun on your date you two.”

Beast Boy and Raven both turned around looking mortified. Raven looking to Cyborg like he had betrayed them. Beast Boy stuttering out an unconvincing explanation that he wasn’t going with Raven.

Robin raised one hand calling for silence. “You remember I was trained by Batman Right? Besides, why do you think I chose to leave YOU TWO to stay behind?” He said with a smirk. 

Beast Boy began another shaky attempt at a defense when Raven grabbed his hand and led him out the door. He could have thought she would be mad or upset, but she had a shy smile on her face instead. Beast Boy could help but smile as he waved a farewell back to his team. 

It was a good end to his Birthday.

[dearophelia]

i will water the ground where i stand (part one)

there’s a room in their house that’s green (part one: olivia, olivia/garrus)

(this is sort of an open-ended project, a collection of related Livfam snapshots rather than a thing with a plot)

***

Olivia comes home one day, later than she’d like, late enough that the debate between eating dinner and going to sleep is nudging toward sleep, and finds him in the empty room of their prefab. Only it isn’t empty anymore.  

(it was never really empty. Filled with bits and pieces scavenged from bombed-out buildings, things that will be helpful one day but right now just take up space. Filled with boxes from their quarters on the Normandy, ephemera from a former life. Filled with stuff.  

But empty of use. Olivia can’t remember the last time she actually opened the door. She’d almost forgotten they had another room.)

Garrus is halfway underneath a table she thinks came from a hotel in what used to be Covent Garden. She squints in the harsh overhead lighting they hardly ever use and sees two small containers on top of the table, both filled with water and little cups. Everything else has been pushed to the side, stacked precariously on top of itself. She nudges a box, pushing it further onto the chair, no longer in danger of falling off if the air system blows too hard.  

“Having fun?” she asks.  

Garrus startles and bumps his head on the table. The cups wobble and a little water sloshes out, but the contraption as a whole stays steady. “Hi,” he says, sliding out from under the table. He sits up and rubs at his head. “When did you get home?”

“Three minutes ago,” she says. “What’s with the…” she gestures. She squints a little harder and, feeling a familiar and unwelcome thudding behind her eyes, pulls her glasses off the top of her head and puts them back on; maybe the anti-glare coating will cut through the brightness. Most of the rest of her is fixed now; Miranda's promise of soon for her eyes can't come soon enough.

"Sorry," Garrus says, turning the overhead light off, leaving them with just his work light; the relief is instant. “We got a shipment of dextro seeds in today. Most of it’s going to the garden, but there was enough leftover that I took a few packets for personal use.”

Botany has never been her strong suit, but her tired brain finally catches up with her eyes: her father had a whole greenhouse of hydroponics on Mindoir and she recognizes Garrus’ setup for it on a much smaller scale. There’s a joke on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill out into the not-empty-anymore room, something about green thumbs and sniper rifles that wouldn’t actually be terribly funny in the end, but the way he glances over his shoulder at the little cups and the precious seeds within gives her pause.  

It’s gotten better in the months since, but that look on his face is all too similar to the one used to wear every time he got to eat something. Her eight months learning to walk again have always seemed trivial compared to his eight months trying not to starve. Olivia swallows the joke.

She’s exhausted, but this is important to him, and he’s important to her. “Want some help?”

Garrus shakes his head. “I’m almost done. There’s dinner in the fridge, if you want.”

She smiles and it turns into a yawn. “Thanks.” The argument was winning out on the side of sleep, but Garrus has become an exceptional levo cook in the past few months. She has her suspicions about why, but her lungs seem to stop working at even the slightest hint of chill; the weird ways trauma threads through their lives have almost become normal. “Want some company while you finish up?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

When she comes back, soup heated up and warming her hands through the bowl, he hasn’t moved. Almost like he was waiting for her, he starts working on the tubing again as soon as she sits down. He taps the tablet he's hung precariously underneath the table, waking the screen, and though Olivia can't see any details from this angle, it's very clearly a schematic.  

As he works and she eats – and she’s going to have to ask him where he found butternut squash in this bombed-out landscape that hasn’t seen green in four years – and the silence is only broken by the clink of her spoon against the bowl, she imagines what this room will look like. Palaveni plants along that wall, several shelves of them depending on how well the first growth cycle goes. Maybe even a few Earth plants – tomatoes, perhaps, some cucumbers and basil – in the corner by the window.  

Flowers from Cipritine – the blue and orange ones he showed her in a picture once, a night when he was particularly sad about his mom and spoke about the small garden she kept behind their house with such fondness Olivia could nearly smell the flowers even on a starship nine months and millions of lightyears away; food seeds are a priority shipment, of course, but seed packets are small and they both have a lot of pull these days. She remembers grapes being a pain and doubts sunflowers would have quite the same effect of towering sunshine if grown indoors, but daisies might work.  

She sets the bowl beside her as Garrus connects the last little piece together. He looks at her, takes a deep breath, and flips the power switch.

Grow lights flicker on and the water system burbles to life with the motor. Garrus’ brow plates quirk upward, surprised that this actually worked.  

Olivia smiles proudly. They’re both immovable objects and unstoppable forces in their own ways, and Garrus has a pleased glint in his eye that tells her this is the target of one of his unstoppable forces.

It’s not much, not now, but it could be. It will be. Housing projects are underway – proper housing, not the rows upon rows of prefabs she has to count to make sure she turns down their street – and they’ll move out of this small space into somewhere they can use all the things they’ve stashed away in this room, and then this room in their house can just be green.  

[concordveterinary]

5 Surprising House Hazards for Pets

You may think your house is safe for your pet. Unfortunately, pets are injured every day across Australia due to hidden household hazards. Today, we’re identifying some of the most common house hazards – and how to prevent them from harming your pet.

Electrical Cords Electrical cords can be extremely dangerous for pets. Obviously, most of your home’s wiring is going to be hidden behind your walls. However, dogs and cats are naturally inquisitive: if they see a loose wire, they could chew on it, or get tangled up. Unless you’re doing a renovation or construction project, you probably don’t have a problem with loose electrical wires in the home. However, many people have loose wires in accessible locations around the house – say, behind your TV. Do you have loose wires in accessible places? Even if the wires are behind your TV, they can pose a significant hazard to pets. Pets can end up tangled in the wiring, or chew through them. The best way to avoid this is to tape down any loose cords. Or, place them higher up, away from the floor and other pet-accessible areas. Alternatively, you can buy cable management systems that wrap all your cables into tight bundles. It tidies up your house and makes it more pet-friendly at the same time. Innocent House Plants Many pet owners don’t realize how dangerous certain plants are to their cats and dogs. Some homeowners grow thorn bushes around their property, for example, as a natural fence. Others keep decorative plants inside – say, a poinsettia during the holidays. Unfortunately for pets, many of these plants are highly-toxic. Thorn bushes, for example, are almost always toxic. They can cause an infection – or at the very least, cut your pet. Watch for the following plants around the house, and consider moving them to areas your pets cannot access:

Holly

Poinsettias

Bougainvillea

Roses

Easter Lilies

The thorns and leaves of all of the above plants can cause problems for your pets. Easter lilies, for example, can cause life-threatening kidney failure to cats within 36 to 72 hours of ingestion. If you’re unsure of a certain plant on your property, take a moment to Google the above plants to see if they match. Your Favorite Foods Most people know that chocolate is bad for dogs. However, there are a surprising number of foods that are equally dangerous for your pets. If you accidentally leave these foods on a table, or drop them on the floor, they can cause serious injuries to your dog or cat. Some of the worst culprits for cats and dogs include:

All types of candy (especially candy with wrappers, which can tear up your dog’s esophagus and intestines)

Chewing gum

Grapes and raisins

Avocados

Onions

Garlic

Fatty foods

In most cases, these foods just give your pet bad indigestion or gas. However, in serious cases, your pet may need to visit the emergency room to be treated for poisoning. Small Kids Toys If you have small kids at home, then you may leave toys lying around. Unfortunately, small, brightly-colored toys aren’t just attractive to kids: they’re attractive to pets as well. Even if the toys are too large to be swallowed, dogs or cats could break off a piece, causing a choking hazard. Make sure you put all small kids’ toys away when not in use, and keep them in a sealed container or another inaccessible location for your pet. Other Small Household Objects Ultimately, there are thousands of common household items that can be hazardous for your pet. Here are some additional things you need to keep out of reach of your pet:

Small Batteries

Buttons

Twist Ties and Rubber Bands

Hair Pins

Cotton Swabs (Q-Tips)

Dental Floss

Fertilizer

Antifreeze and Cleaning Supplies

Confetti and Balloons (especially deflated balloons)

Certain drinks (coffee, tea, and alcohol are all very bad for cats and dogs, even in small amounts)

By following the tips listed above, you can help your dog or cat avoid a serious injury around the house!.  For More info contact the best vet in concord

[pintofteaforthesoul]

Fenrys’s Mate OC, Nyssa

Not that anyone asked for it, but it’s an idea i’ve been bouncing around in my head for forever so here it is: Fenrys’s Mate- Nyssa. 

~~~

Rowan and Lyria’s child survived thanks to Maeve having the tribe that killed Lyria take her. (200 years prior to ToG)

Their daughters name is Nyssa.

She was raised by the tribemen until she was tent, keep under constant watch by the leader and being groomed to be his bride.

When she was 10, Maeve sent Lorcan and Gavriel to wipe out the tribe before Rowan would have a chance to- to keep Nyssa’s identity hidden.

Lorcan and Gavriel make quick work of the main tribe but it is Lorcan who discovers Nyssa- being held by the Tribe Leader with a knife to her throat.

Even then, Lorcan recognized the fire in Nyssa’s eyes and related it to Rowan.

Unbeknownst to the Tribe Leader, Nyssa carried a knife and stabbed him in the thigh with it. Free from his hold, she hunkered down while Lorcan made the killing shot.

With Rowan still away from Doranelle Gavriel and Lorcan brought Nyssa back to Maeve where she swore Lorcan and Gavriel to secrecy. She gave the task to Lorcan to train Nyssa into a warrior.

Maeve cast them from Doranelle on a “secret” mission and Nyssa grew up with Lorcan as her father.

Nyssa is the spitting image of Lyria except for her green eyes and keeps her dark hair short and curly. As a child she was small and grew up to be lithe but short. She has the barest of tipped Fae ears and smells of sweet grapes and fresh lavender (exactly like her mom). Nyssa has the ability to shift into a small calico house cat, something Maeve detests because its mostly useless in battle, and has more raw magic than any other Fae despite not knowing how to use it very well (Lorcan trained her as best he could but there were just some things he couldn’t teach).

Lorcan and Nyssa spent 30 years together before Lorcan was called back to deal with a war. While the Cadre were away for nearly a decade, Nyssa spent more time in Doranelle and became close with Connall despite his blood oath to Maeve and being forced to be her lover.

Connall believed Nyssa to be his mate and told Maeve, to which she laughed.

Nyssa believed she was to take the blood oath and finally meet her true father when they returned, but Maeve sent her on another task- her first one alone.

When Rowan returned to Doranelle, he could not figure out why Lyria’s scent was there and almost went off the rails again due to renewed grief. Those of the Cadre who knew about Nyssa and sworn to secrecy were bursting at the seams to tell him- all except Lorcan who views Nyssa as his own daughter.

Nyssa is gone for a few years but called back to Doranelle when an invasion becomes imminent. Maeve instructs her to only stay in her feline form as to not gain the notice of Rowan- with the off-hand promise that if she cooperates of her own free will for long enough, Maeve will grant her the blood oath and permission to meet Rowan.

To stop that invasion, Maeve sends Nyssa into enemy lines as a prostitute to seduce the leader of the army and slaughter him. In Maeve’s words, Nyssa does “magnificently”. This disgusts Lorcan, but he says nothing as he is still in love with Maeve.

Nyssa grows to hate Rowan, as Maeve tells her the whispers of what happened to Lyria and how it is all Rowan’s fault. She fully accepts that she never wants to meet him.

A couple decades pass as Nyssa acting as Maeve’s infiltrator, with no further mention of Nyssa swearing the blood oath, until the whisper comes that a powerful child will soon be born on Erilea (about 100 years before ToG).

Knowing the Cadre will be too suspicious, Maeve sends Nyssa- making her swear a blood promise to bring whatever child this is to her in Doranelle. Nyssa gladly accepts under the condition that should she return successful that she will be granted the blood oath. Maeve is begrudgingly vague and sends Nyssa off.

Nyssa travels to Erilea in search of this powerful child and finds utterly nothing, moving from kingdom to kingdom with little direction but mostly staying south.

During her travels, Nyssa meet Manon and they have a casual fling whenever they run across each other. Manon likes Nyssa’s stubborn and fiery spirit- and her tongue.

Fifty years into her task, Nyssa is ready to give up when she crosses the border into Terrasen. Some power tells her to remain, so Nyssa makes her way to capital where she meets Orlon.

Orlon guesses who she is and why she’s there, but is kind to her. Nyssa tells him of her story and her task to Maeve. Orlon knows it is inevitable and gives her a place in his court to wait.

Nyssa finds happiness like she has never known in Terrasen, but especially after Aelin is born. Orlon offers a blood promise to Nyssa of his own- to protect Aelin from any who should harm her. Nyssa takes it, eager to repay the kindness Orlon has showed her over the past 30 years in his court.

Nyssa takes her cat form in Aelin’s house and becomes known to the young princess as KitKat.

After the King of Adarlan’s visit and Aelin and her parents are forced back to their home outside of Orynth, Nyssa (as KitKat) is forgotten at the palace. She is not able to make it in time to save Aelin’s parents or the princess who finds herself in a river.

Nyssa vows to find Aelin again no matter what it takes, but she is trapped as KitKat after magic falls.

It takes 2 years for Nyssa to trace Aelin back to The Assassin’s Keep in Rifthold. Aelin, now Celaena, is adored at finding a calico cat that reminds her so much of KitKat. And thus names her “new cat” Snickers (not after the candy bar, but after the sound she thinks Nyssa makes)

Nyssa watches over Aelin as Snickers, never letting the girl out of her sight for long, until Celaena and Sam Cortland go to Skull’s Bay.

After the wrecking of the city, Nyssa is found by Rolfe who identifies her as Aelin’s beloved cat. Thinking to have something over the assassin, Rolfe keeps Nyssa- completely unaware of the Fae girl.

Nyssa, as Snickers, gains the favor of everyone in Skull’s Bay while trying to figure out a plan to escape. She soon learns that not long after Celaena left, she was sent off to Endovier.

Nyssa is distraught at the news, knowing she is useless in her current form and now stuck in Skull’s Bay.

Nyssa hears everything of Rolfe’s business, since he believes her to be just a cat. After hearing that Aelin is alive, she bides her time until the young Queen settles in one spot- set on returning to her side even in her useless feline form. When magic is once again released, Nyssa begins to formulate a plan as to how to reach Aelin.

Cut to the events of Empire of Storms. Nyssa is shocked when some of the Cadre appear in Skull’s Bay. Fearing the wrath of Maeve for breaking her blood promise to bring Aelin to her, Nyssa hides any way she can.

When Rowan appears, it takes all of Nyssa’s self-control to not reveal herself- still hating him for what happened to Lyria. But she knows that if Rowan is here then Aelin will follow.

Indeed after Aelin shows up, Nyssa bides her time for the best moment to reveal herself.

Unfortunately, Gavriel catches her scent and he and Fenrys track her down as a cat.

Fenrys, as a wolf, carries Nyssa, as a cat, in his mouth to where Aelin has set up shop in the inn. Fenrys drops Nyssa in a chair but she does not shift.

Aelin is delighted to see Snickers again, but Rowan stops her from approaching- his face twisting at Nyssa’s scent.

Rowan orders Nyssa to reveal herself while Fenrys and Gavriel take up their places at the door, Aedion off to the side. Aelin tells Rowan to shove it, not believing that her childhood pet could be a Fae in disguise but Rowan just has his eyes on Nyssa.

Nyssa shifts, not once looking at Rowan (whose breath catches when he sees her) and addresses Aelin.

Aelin is shocked, but not terribly surprised by the reveal- piecing together that Snickers and KitKat are one and the same.

After a little coaxing, Nyssa tells her story, barely flicking eyes to Rowan except when she describes being taken by the Tribesmen. Rowan grows paler over the course of the story. Fenrys, not having met Nyssa before now, calls out how poetic the moment is (since Gavriel had just found out about Aedion).

Aelin asks about the blood promise to Maeve, but Nyssa swears that it is gone because she already broke it and thus poses no threat. Rowan tries to talk to Nyssa, to which she replies nastily and flippant.

Taking advantage of being in human form again and that it’s late, Nyssa stalks off- taking Fenrys with her to both piss off her dad and to give her a place to sleep for the night.

Unbeknownst to them, Nyssa and Fenrys are mates. It’s why she and Connall had had such a close relationship but never took that next step.

Nyssa and Fenrys have a very loud night together. Rowan talks to Aelin about being horrified and she helps him through it.

Nyssa grows close to Lysandra and Aelin again, but not Aedion as she hates the way he treats Gavriel. Aedion calls her a hypocrite since he believes her to be acting the same towards Rowan. Nyssa tells him to fuck off and shouts that at least Aedion had gotten the chance to know his mother before she died.

Nyssa helps in the Battle at Skull’s Bay, delighting in the fact that Dorian also has raw magic. They learn off of one another.

When Manon appears in the sky, both Nyssa and Dorian are the ones to save her though Nyssa is reluctant to explain her relationship to the witch.

Nyssa, in feline form, guards Manon day and night while also discovering more of her relationship with Fenrys.

Nyssa and Rowan have a scene on the deck of the boat, where she screams at him for abandoning Lyria. It cause Rowan’s grief to surge and Nyssa chokes down the rest of her anger after realizing just how deeply Rowan cared for her and Lyria. Rowan vows that had he known of her existence he would’ve fought to the ends of the Earth to find her. Nyssa does not reveal that it was Lorcan who raised her despite Rowan’s repeatedly asking which member of the cadre it was.

When Manon wakes to full consciousness, she is relieved to find Nyssa there. At some point they have a small scene where they tease Fenrys who was on guard duty at the time by Manon pleasing Nyssa. Fenrys gets territorial and calls for a shift change, taking Nyssa back to his cabin to stake his claim on her. They still have no idea that they’re mates.

Despite knowing each other for nearly a century, Manon and Nyssa have no deep feelings for one another and Nyssa is not surprised when Manon takes a liking to Dorian. She jokes with Manon that it must be the raw magic Nyssa and Dorian have in common that makes them so irresistible. Manon brushes it off.

After that point, Nyssa is only with Fenrys.

When they trek into the stone marshes, Nyssa goes along. But when the ilken attack, Nyssa senses Lorcan’s presence and throws all of her magic into bolstering his shield.

When Lorcan appears, and Gavriel and Fenrys disappear, Nyssa tries to go for him. Much to Rowan’s horror, she addresses him as her father.

Fenrys and Gavriel attack and Nyssa is physically restrained by Aedion, much to her great displeasure and rage. Nyssa screams for Fenrys to stop. Elide gets hurt by Fenrys, Lorcan puts the shield over them both and the talking ensues.

When the battle resumes, Nyssa uses the last of her magic to blast Aedion back and races toward Lorcan. She jumps in front of Fenrys without fully knowing that he’ll stop before hurting his mate.

Lorcan rages at Nyssa to get away, which prompts Rowan to step in and declare Lorcan and Elide under Aelin’s protection.

Lorcan greets Nyssa by grabbing her hair and growling that if she ever tries that again, he’ll kill her himself. Nyssa nearly cries with relief and Lorcan embraces her tightly. Rowan addresses Lorcan stiffly and they all make their way back to shore.

Before they move, Nyssa draws her blade to Aedion’s neck and threatens that if he ever holds her back again that he’s dead.

Nyssa joyfully fills Lorcan and Elide in on her adventures, already reading the mating bond between Lorcan and Elide. She ignores Fenrys entirely. Elide loves Nyssa immediately.

Rowan and Lorcan have a discussion about Nyssa when they return to the boats, filling in the side of the story Nyssa could not. Rowan is displeased, but ultimately understands.

Fenrys tries to talk to Nyssa but she slaps him.

After the arrival of Maeve’s armada, Nyssa is one of the guards put on Elide. She accepts the order from Lorcan without question, vowing to protect the girl with her life.

When Maeve comes to take Elide, Nyssa manages to kill two of the guards before being grappled. Maeve is displeased to see her and Nyssa is horrified to see the Dark Queen in person again. Maeve simply states that they’ll have to talk later and calls Fenrys and Gavriel to her side.

Knowing it will be too late once they do, Nyssa makes an attempt to get to Elide. She slices the guard’s throat who has her and makes a running leap, but Fenrys appears and grapples her now. At the same time, Lorcan now has Elide. Maeve gives the order for them to all freeze and not run away.

Maeve reveals all about Aelin and Rowan and Nyssa cries in disbelief, now understanding that Maeve hadn’t sent her to Erilea because she was the least suspicious option but because Maeve delighted in knowing that Lyria’s daughter would be the one to protect Rowan’s true mate.

Nyssa attempts to fight out of Fenrys’s grip, to which Maeve instructs Fenrys to bite his mate- to claim her. Because of the blood vow, he does. Maeve tells Nyssa how disappointed she is and that they will discuss later about the punishment for breaking her promise. Maeve uses her darkness to render Nyssa unconscious, much to the horror of both Fenrys and Lorcan.

Nyssa is not conscious through Aelin’s lashings by Cairn and Fenrys is ordered to take her aboard the ship.

When they arrive back in Doranelle, Maeve has Nyssa beaten while she still has no magic- making both Connall and Fenrys watch.

Maeve delights in revealing that Fenrys and Nyssa are mates and Connall grows angry, still having believed that it was him. It’s another thing he holds against Fenrys.

Maeve ponders Nyssa’s usefulness as a tie between the twins and makes a show of deciding who Nyssa will be with. Nyssa is exhausted and broken, her wounds healing slowly.

Maeve reveals that this isn’t the full punishment for breaking the promise and Connall offers himself up to take the punishment in Nyssa’s stead.

Maeve merely laughs and states that she has a better idea. She uses the blood oath to make Fenrys hold Nyssa down while Connall carves into her back with his magic- the world Oathbreaker in the Old Language over and over again down Nyssa’s spine.  Both brothers are horrified, but have no other choice and the word is branded into Nyssa.

Only then, Maeve reveals that the punishment has been paid and gives Nyssa the chance again to swear fealty- finally offering her the blood oath because her Cadre’s numbers have dwindled with the loss of both Gavriel and Lorcan. She also tells Nyssa that should she accept, Nyssa will have the choice of whose bed she will take- Connall or Fenrys.

Nyssa, seeing no other choice, takes the blood oath to Maeve, but uses the last remnant of her magic to burn the blood away before it can enter her system.

Going back on her word, Maeve uses her magic to twist Nyssa’s mind- making her believe Connall to be her true mate despite the blood oath. When Maeve then offers up the choice between them and Nyssa chooses Connall. Fenrys is practically a statue at this point. Maeve then orders the couple to make love every dusk and every dawn, the blood oath taking effect on Connall but Nyssa knows if she is to refuse then she would reveal what she’d done.

Maeve then considers how entertaining it would be to make Fenrys watch the couple, but reconsiders and orders him to stay in wolf form to watch over their new “guest”.

>to be continued after I read more of KoA<

[corona-the-nightcutter]

Blood Notes

Logan’s schedule for the night was simple. Tidy up around the house, make herself an easy meal, watch the latest episode of her favorite monster-hunting show (however inaccurate and obscure their methods may be), then go to sleep. One of her more laid-back evening as of late, but she couldn't be more thankful for it. This past week has kept her a little too busy for her liking. The sudden rush of adrenaline that the human body produced when you tried not to die was not something that Logan particularly enjoyed. Dealing with high strung angelic beings wasn't too high on her favorite’s list either. Just a casual night with nothing but the outcome of the show to worry about. 

That was, of course, after she cleaned up like she was asked.

She walked into the hallway bathroom in search of a brush and tie for her hair. She had the longest hair in her family by far (well as far as she was aware), so doing almost anything gritty was next to impossible with it let loose in all its glory. Her mother had constantly, and recently an “acquaintance”, had recommended cutting it shorter. But she had cut it short when she was younger, though the ridiculous bangs she had with it were the biggest issue she now had with the look, she still refused to cut it after she has spent years growing it out. 

She pulled open the top drawer of the sink and reached into the tiny woven bin where she kept them, pulling a fairly tight elastic band out. As she reached for the brush, she glanced up at the mirror, and froze.

How she hadn't noticed this earlier was a mystery to her, but she was always one to absorb herself in own thoughts, whether she chose to or not. 

Her reflection was covered by fresh, dripping, dark crimson blood. The viscous, liquid trails slid all the way down to the wood framing, staining the orange brown with an almost eerie dark maroon and had begun to drip onto the ceramic sink top. Someone with any sort of rational thought would have called the police to report a breaking and entering, and mostly like a suspect of murder. Logan would have snorted at the thought of a religious person seeing this and preparing an exorcism with salt.

She only groaned deeply and buried her face her hand. “My god ...Anoroc!” she shouted out, seemingly at nothing but a random shadow at first glance. When she didn’t get an answer, she marched out to the living room, completely foregoing her first task as usual, and glared at another, larger shadow that looked suspiciously dark to her.

“Alright, you can come out now. I know you’re there.” she said sternly, placing her hands on her hips, hair tie clutched in one.

The shadow she was looking at begin to move, the darker filling begin to shrink and condense into a tall form, a beastly one with massive wings, a curling spiked tail, and a row of horns that sprouted from the top and sides of its head. The form continued to shrink until Logan could make out every row of spines that littered the creature’s face, and the sharp tips of its claws on its paws. (or hands? Logan couldn’t tell which.)

But that wasn't important now. Her arms crossed over themselves and her mouth pursed into a high, short line as the creature “walked” out of the shadows. Its entire form barely fit in the living room. The jagged tips of its horns lightly scraped against the ceiling; its wings would have knocked the tv off its stand if it was not careful. The claws that tipped it’s hands ...or paws… looked as if they had to power to slice cleanly through steel, and the deadly golden amber eyes on its face contained a fire that could melt even the firmest of wills, reducing them to begging for their lives on their knees before the demon.

“You called me, Eldritchess?” The demon’s deep, masculine voice addressed, revealing rows of sharp, frightening teeth that were concealed in his jaws. He stared down at her with a stern gaze, as though she had done something wrong, or unexpected.

Logan, despite all this, just sighed and put one hand up to her face again. The demon’s stern gaze turned to one of confusion, tilting his head as she looked through her fingers up at him.

“Why is there blood writing on my mirror?” she asked as if it was a completely normal thing, which while this wasn't a common occurrence as of yet, she had been told to expect “out of the ordinary things” by a certain angelic king. She supposed this was the start of them.

The demon’s ears perked up in surprise, the scaled brows on his face raising slightly. “Aziza informed me that your generations sense of humor was based around the aspect of ‘randomness’. Was this not... random enough to be humorous to you?” He asked, looking down at her with something of an earnest and sincere look. Well, it looked like it was sincere. She could tell it was strained, but he was trying. That was at least somewhat calming her irritation.

“Random enough? Well yeah this is random, but not in a good way! Whose blood is on my mirror? What did you kill? You better not say chickens.” She eyed him suspiciously and leaned forward, although it did nothing to help that she had to look up at least two feet to meet his eyes. 

Anoroc scoffed and looked away from her with a deadpan in his fiery eyes. “Oh please, chickens are a coward’s target. I used lamb’s blood that I had stored away.” he stated formerly, his hands that dangled at his side like willow limbs folded behind himself just under where his wings were attached. 

“I don't think that makes you any less of a coward to have blood stored away,” she forced herself ignored how his gaze was on her, looking like something short of annoyance, “and why would you store blood in the first place? I thought you were a dragon. Are you part vampire or something?” she asked, leaning back to her normal height. 

“No, I am not part vampire. It’s for research and ritual purposes.” 

“Uh huh… well, whatever. Stay there.” she said and walked back toward the bathroom. She reached her hands to her hair and chose to just gather it into a low ponytail. A higher ponytail would have been preferred, but this would work for now. She regarded the stained mirror again for a second, noticed how the blood had begun to brown and dry. She didn't waste any time in getting the glass spray and a roll of paper towels, walking back out and all but threw them to her “assigned protector”.

“Um...Eldri-”

“Logan. My name is Logan, so please use it. Since we’re partners now, or whatever Orion said, it would be better if you weren’t so formal.” Logan said, then looked down at the two items in his clawed grasp. “You made the mess, so you have to clean it up.” She asserted, but she was taken aback by the confused look on his face as he turned over the aluminum can and cylinder of paper in his hands. 

“I’m confused…”

“By what? You just push here, and it sprays.” she pointed to the pressured spot atop the canister.

“No… well yes, that as well, but usually when I made… a mess I was escorted back to my chambers.” Anoroc explained. 

“Oh yeah, you had servants. Must have been nice.” Logan remarked with a smirk, but it dropped immediately when she saw the hard look on his face.

“Escorted by guards, because the staff feared I was too wild.” His eyes went dark and they almost looked as if they turned into a dark orange color. He brought the canister to his muzzle to sniff it and snorted and shook his head as the fumes of the cleaner entered his nostrils.

“Hey.” Logan looked up at him with something of a reassuring grin. “That was when you were classified as ‘a danger to the fortress’, but with you as my guardian, and with me as your connection to the mortal world, we can change that, right?” She said. 

Anoroc regarded her statement for a moment. “I suppose that’s how this is going to work....” He agreed, looking back to her.

“Great! Now go get that mirror cleaned before it stains anymore, and maybe I’ll teach you what the whole “randomness” deal with my generation’s humor means, huh?” She patted his scaled and fur-covered arm and walked past him, beginning to de-clutter the coffee table. She picked up a stack of old mail and cast a glance over her shoulder, spotting her counterpart edging his way carefully to the bathroom, minding that his bulky wings didn’t knock down another picture. She smiled to herself. Though she still was a little irked about the blood note, it was hard to find anything too irritating when all she could think about was that he had written “got any grapes?”. It was a clumsy effort and even slightly embarrassing to think about how stupid it must seem to someone at least three hundred years her senior, but Anoroc was trying to understand humans, and her, better in order to protect them. That alone was enough for her.

Suddenly, there was a loud growling and hissing noise from the bathroom, followed by a deep, pained whining. Logan cringed, knowing fully well he probably just sprayed himself in the eye.

“Logan? Could...could you come assist me with this… cleaning utensil? I think it might be sentient.” Anoroc called. His voice was strained, like he almost hoped she wouldn’t hear him.

“Did you aim it the wrong way?” She called with a high bounce in her voice, dropping the stack of letters on the table as she passed. She may not have enough time to watch her show before she had to go to sleep now, this might turn out to be a more exciting night “alone” after all.

[northsidefabray]

Breathe Again

Who: Quinn & @northsideclarington (mentions of @northsidesebastian)

What: Quinn tells Hunter that she wants to keep the baby, and he tells her about the conversation he had with Sebastian about this making their lives better. It’s official. The NSET are keeping their baby.

When: Jan 1, Late Afternoon (before Quinn and Sebastian’s convo)

Where: Hunter’s Residence

Triggers: Pregnancy

Quinn

For as many times as Quinn had felt nervous stepping outside lately, those old feelings of unease seemed to forget to follow her as she made her way to Hunter's. It had only been a few days since she had seen him and Sebastian, since they sat with her in the doctor's office as they learned about the life they'd created that was growing healthily inside of her. Since the beginning, they had options for how to handle this but she knew now what she wanted. 

 Actually, she'd known since the moment the doctor told her that she was pregnant, but she'd only now been able to admit it to herself. For as much as that decision scared her, she was sure about it. Quinn walked up to the door and had a moment to decide whether she wanted to knock or use her key. She had been the one to leave, but she'd put in her letter that she wasn't leaving them so she opted for the key, peeking her head in. "Hunt?" she called out tentatively. "It's me."

Hunter

After taking a much needed nap in the afternoon, Hunter had busied himself cleaning up a bit and doing some laundry before it would piled up to a dangerous level, then he took a shower and changed into a pair of dark gray slacks and a white shirt, trying to look presentable for when Quinn showed up later that night. In all honesty, he was scared to bits to what Quinn wanted to talk about with him, no matter how much reassurance Sebastian had knocked into his mind the night before about her making the right decision, and that it would be a good one for all of them, but specially for their baby. Was she coming over to cutting him off completely and she wanted to do that in person? 

He was in the kitchen at the moment, making some tea to go along the plate of crackers and grapes he had fixed as well for them to share, when the sound of her voice, always such a sweet and warm sound, made him turn his head around and he walked up to her and held the door open wide.  "Hey, Q. Happy New Year... again." He chuckled, then held her gently and placed a soft kiss on her lips before he let her go. "Come in. Tea's almost ready."

Quinn

Quinn couldn't hide the fact that her smile widened the second she saw him. No matter what they were going through, Hunter was one of only two people who could make her smile without even trying. It already felt better being back here. Noah's place had been great. Ryan was wonderful, and she'd loved spending time with the girls, but her heart knew when she was home. 

"Happy New Year," she said with a smile, leaning into his lips, feeling this kiss that had a way of making everything else fade away. "Tea?" She grinned as she walked in, setting her purse down on the table as she followed him. "Did you switch from being a coffee man while I was away?"

Hunter

Hunter chuckled and shook his head. "You speak as if you had been gone for years. But no, I haven’t switched sides. But you shouldn't be having any excess of caffeine either, so tea it is for tonight. I also have a plate with crackers and some cheese and grapes." He took the kettle off the stove when it started whistling. "You're feeling okay? How's the little bun doing? Giving you a hard time already?"

Quinn

Quinn followed him into the kitchen and smiled as she watched him remove the pot and get tea poured for them. Then when he mentioned the snacks, she looked over at the plate and couldn't stop the excited oh! as she wandered over and picked up one of the grapes so she could pop it in her mouth. It was plump and bright, and the juice was so sweet it pulled a gracious hum from her lips. "That's so good," she said, swallowing the fruit and looking up at his questions. 

Her eyes lowered for a moment when he used that nickname, little bun. Is that you, she thought, hand slipping to rest on the small of her still flat stomach. Our little bun. Then Quinn smiled and answered, "Just tired a lot. I slept until eleven yesterday morning, napped by one, and still fell asleep for the night by ten," she told him, lowering her hand so she could snag another grape. "I'm kind of thankful I'm on that leave from work so I have the ability to do all this sleeping not at my desk." 

Biting half of the grape, she walked over so she could stand closer to him. "How have you been?" She asked, reaching up to brush her fingers through the longer pieces of his hair.

Hunter

Hunter was glad to see Quinn liked the grapes he had picked and seeing her eating them so happily made him happy, especially after watching her spill her guts out for days, not knowing then what was happening. "Yeah, all that sleeping done at your desk would've murdered your back, and you have to hang onto your full body strength. The first months are the more difficult, then your body finally catches up and you should be able to have your regular life back, as much as the belly size will let you." 

He smiled at her when she ran her fingers through her hair and shrugged. "I've been good. Also glad to have had this day off. I'm going back on full schedule tomorrow, so it was nice to have a breather." He handed her her mug and grabbed his own. "You want us to go to the living room? It should be more comfortable there."

Quinn

He was a doctor so of course he knew about the medical sides but the way he spoke brought images to her mind of Hunter reading through pregnancy and baby books or websites, and the thought itself warmed her. "True but it would also be a good excuse to ask for back rubs," she said with a smile. Quinn nodded and took the cup that he offered her, smelling the familiar scent of honey vanilla chamomile. It was the only tea that really settled her stomach. For a moment, she wondered if it was her body reacting to the tea, or the baby. 

Nodding, she popped the other half of the grape in her mouth and then walked over to pick up the tray of snacks. She wasn't done with those. She'd opted out of lunch with Ryan and the girls, feeling a little unease in her stomach earlier that day before it settled. Placing the tray down on the table, Quinn sat down in one of the chairs close enough for her to reach for the snacks and still bit her cup down on a coaster. She crossed one leg over the other and fixed her skirt before looking at him. "I um, I guess we should talk about things." It's why she'd come, after all. "About the baby."

Hunter

Hunter chuckled and nodded. "And eventually also ankle rubs. If you're doing this, do it right." He followed her into the living room and sat on the couch, taking a sip of his tea before he put the cup on the coffee table in front of him, and he crossed his own two hands together and nodded. "There's no need to tip toe around this, Q. So yeah, I think that's a good idea."

Quinn

Quinn smiled and she knew without even having to question it that he'd be attentive to her needs, even ones she didn't realize she had. "No, you're right." It wasn't the whole reason she came but it was something they needed to talk about. She took a breath and all of those perfectly practiced words suddenly disappeared. This one was going to have to come from the heart. Turning to face him, she started, "Okay. The thing is that I know we have options and maybe those options would make things easier for us." Not maybe, they would. 

"But the truth is, Hunt, for as scared as I am right now.. and as unprepared as we are.. I don't want anyone else raising our baby." She'd stepped away to give them time to think but maybe it was her who had needed it more. Her hands went to her stomach, pressing gently against her mid-section. "I don't know how we're going to figure it out but I know we can, and I know I want to. I want this, and I want you, and I want Sebastian. I want our baby, and our family."

Hunter

Hunter could feel his own heart pounding inside his skull while he listened to Quinn talk, but the more he did, the more relaxed he started to feel. Even if he had left out that choice for her when they talked before, the idea of his child being raised by someone else was a bit daunting for him. Not that he would had protested had she chosen to do that. Luckily, she hadn't.  He moved closer to her and held her hand. 

"Quinn... It's not like he could split the baby in three parts. Things aren't easy with us just by being together, and it won't be easy with this baby either, but the one thing you should know is that we're with you, all the way. Everything you need from us, you  will have it. Whenever I can't be there, Sebastian will, poor parenting skills included and everything, but he won't leave you alone. We never thought about leaving you on your own with this, whatever your choice had been. Me and Sebastian... We talked and felt that this is the way we  can make our lives better. To matter, after all these years of not caring. We love you, and we love the little bun."

Quinn

Looking down at her hand when he took it, Quinn felt her pulse race since she'd gotten her part out. Now it was his and while her heart told her that she knew what he would say, it was the insecure part she tried to not pay attention to that made her worry. But as he spoke, his words soothed her, bringing the kind of comfort that she'd been looking for and failed to find because she'd been the one so unsure about what to do. But she was sure now. 

"Easy is boring," she said with a smile, surprising herself by feeling something wet on her cheek. She wiped at the stray tear and quickly said, "Sorry. Hormones." Placing her other hand over his, Quinn nodded. "I love you too. Both of you, all of you," she corrected because it wasn't just the three of them anymore. It was four of them now. Quinn scooted closer to him and curled her arms around his neck, pulling herself close to him. 

"We're really doing this," she said over his shoulder. "We're having a baby."

Hunter

Hunter chuckled and squeezed her hand gently. "It never it is, baby." He picked her in her arms and placed her on his lap, his arms holding her close gently. "Yes, we are. And it's going to be the most kickass, smart, snarky, and beautiful baby in the world."

Quinn

Quinn giggled, a soft sound that took away the rest of the anxiousness and uncertainty. It felt good to laugh like that again. If they were going to be scared, they'd be scared together. But the important part was that this was happening. They were having a baby. "Enjoy that while you can. You may not be able to pick me up like that in a few months," she teased. 

Then she nodded at the way he described their little bun. Their baby would be all those things and more. "It's very possible this kid is going to take over the world," she said happily, knowing that with all of the best part of the three of them, there was nothing that could stop their bun. Leaning in, Quinn pressed her lips to his and for the first time since they'd found out she was pregnant, she let herself feel happy and excited. She had already messaged Sebastian and was going to see him when she finished here but for right now, she didn't rush the moment. 

"Thank you," she whispered against his lips. For letting her think, for always being there, for loving them so much. "For everything."

[thoughtswithoutatheme]

The Butcher

First few pages of a story I’ve been working on

Jennifer Davies had never even see what the inside of a dead pig looked like, let alone how to carefully prepare it for sale. The closest she'd ever been to a pig of any kind was either ham sandwiches or the stuffed toy of a piglet she had as a child. Knowing a real, greasy, slimy, slippery, fleshy hog inside and out had been more enlightening than a whole term at university. You don't really question or even think about life and death, your place in the world, religion and how fleeting out lives are until you elbow deep into a large supply of vital organs, blood and pus. The smell will definitely make you question the existence of god.

She had worked at her Uncle Roger's mortuary during the previous summer and she had no real problems with it. She was responsible for make-up and tidying up corpses before the big day and found the work fine, though all the dirty work had been performed before she got a hold of the bodies. She sometimes worried about the family of the people she made up, thought about what the person had been like, and always felt some despair when working on someone close to her own age. It was a simple job and allowed her to work in peace.

She assumed working at a butchers shop would be similar, just a bit more messy and with less attachment. Unfortunately, there were much more guts, blood, entrails and goo that she couldn't even begin to describe. Messy had been an understatement. That didn't even cover how everything in the shop looked dangerous. Knives, cleavers, skewers, grinders, hooks, sharp pieces of bone, saws and a few other tools she couldn't even describe.

Working at a butchers shop wasn't something she had really wanted but it was time Christmas and she had to step up. The season always brings stress, debt and work but it's all (probably) worth it in the end. She had three younger brothers, a little sister, a mother and father, all four grandparents, many uncles and aunties who were very close, several cousins she saw regularly, and a great auntie in Australia. Not to mention a bevy of friends, from both childhood and current day, dorm mates, people she sat near in her lectures, her lecturers and maybe even the nice porter at her dorm. She liked all of them and wanted to get them all something nice for Christmas and a student loan isn't going to cover it.

She had limited work experience and being half way through a philosophy course wasn't going to put any money in the bank any time soon. Her Uncle suggested he could take her on again but she wanted to work somewhere close by, avoiding the train then bus journey to the mortuary. Luckily, she saw the advertisement for the butcher's assistant post in the local newspaper, showed up the next day and was covered in blood by noon.

Her family better be grateful after what she's going through. A part time job in the local butchers seemed simple but she was excepting to be working more on the front side of the shop. Jennifer foresaw taking orders, serving customers, putting carefully cut and sealed pieces of meat in carrier bags and then giving the customer a happy smile and wishing them a nice day. Much of her first day alone, however, consisted mostly of learning how much force was needed to smoothly remove the limbs off a cow.

This would be all worth it in the end, she supposed. She was actually earning the extra money needed to buy presents and cards for those she loved. Her parents had reminded her constantly that she was missed while at university, so she could cheer them up with some great presents. The job itself was also providing a skill and you can't put a price on that, but you can spend an evening getting blood out of your shoes. She was also developing an iron stomach and that would be useful for any future Saturday wine night binges.

Two weeks in and things were going well. The pus and viscera was starting to get stale (figuratively) and the nightmares of the ghosts of every farmyard inhabit haunting her (even in an odd instance, the farmer himself) were fading. Being surrounded by sharp objects never really lost its edge though. She was getting better at the job and soon found herself to be enjoying it, on a small level at least, thanks to her boss.

The butcher was Mr. Baker and he was a friendly chap. He'd been a butcher (and a Baker) his whole thirty-eight years and was the seventh generation of Bakers to be in the profession. He grew up around the carcasses of dead animals and consumed from them the necessary nutrients to grow strong enough to remove a calf's head with one heavy thwack of a knife. He was good at his art and was more than happy to do it his whole life. He had a lovely wife and his son would eventually become the eighth Baker to become a butcher. They all lived together above the shop. He regularly saw his father and they discussed their trade until the cows came home, which were then cut up and ready to be served. He was stout and strong, as per the job requirements, with a round, friendly face.

Mr. Baker understood the process to a great level, being able to identify any cut of meat, tell you which animal it came from, the best way to slice and prepare it, and he can weigh it in his mind that gave the best deal for both him and the consumer. He had worked with many people both his senior and junior in his time and loved imparting generations worth of knowledge on potential new butchers. He eagerly awaited for when his son was old enough to take up the trade and he first Baker to give tips of the trade to none Bakers. Mr. Baker felt that his family secrets were not to be kept amongst the family bloodline but to be shared. Their motto was “A Better World, Made by the Butcher” and it adorned their family crest, a red banner complete with a sheep, a cow and a winking pig on the top. Needless to say, the pig didn't have a body.

When he advertised for a part time worker to help him through the holiday season, he hadn't expected a skinny, pale woman who looked like she'd already seen the inside of a sheep's stomach, but he wasn't going to turn down the only applicant. Things had been slow but Jennifer took to the job faster than anyone he'd ever met. He had even bragged to his father about her. She truly was an honorary Baker.

The job was only for a six week period from early November to mid-December, but in that time both butcher and apprentice had got to know each other well. Jennifer had discovered that Mr. Baker was a fan of sixties/seventies rock music and was once in a band, that he collected vintage plates, that he met his wife at a butcher competition and she'd left the butcher from Allanson for him, that the Baker family remained fit and spritely well into their eighties, that he could recite Pi to 15 digits and he almost lost a finger the first time his father let him hold a butcher knife. Jennifer had opened up to his new boss, telling him about her dreams to travel, how she was allergic to cinnamon, that she once won a town wide children's singing contest when she was five, that she has a strong and unexplained dislike of rubber bands and that she collected ceramic horse figurines.

What they learned wasn't just things about each other. Obviously, Jennifer was acquiring the knowledge of the butcher trade from Mr. Baker but he was also imparting many more life skills. He told her the best place to get a car loan, thought her how to tie and untie multiple types of knots, the right way to clean a smartphone, where to find fresh nuts, how to stroke a dog just right and the easiest way of getting a seat on a crowded train. Jennifer told him how to colour code clothes, who are the best current rock bands, how to move through a crowd, how to make space on his phone, how to find a bargain in a market and why olives are superior to grapes.

Despite being supportive, many had worried Jennifer's decision to study philosophy. She had been questioned (repeatedly) by friends, immediate family and even distant family on why she chose to study it of all things. They said she should look into becoming a nurse or career, that business studies pays for itself, joinery is a skill set for life, why not just try an IT degree and just get an office job, you'll thank me later. Uncle Roger was ready to get her a name plaque to put on her desk at the mortuary. Her parents were always confident and trusted their daughter but they worried about her future employability.

It was only Mr. Baker that supported her Philosophy degree. During her time working with him they had discussed Descartes, pondered Plato and considered Kant, all while making sure the dead animals were ready for their audience. Jennifer spent too much of her time thinking. She would meditate her decisions and those of others, stress over what was the best solution or the worst outcome and so decided to do something with this. She would either get a better understanding or herself and the world around her, or at least maybe focus her errant thoughts. Mr. Baker was always happy to listen.

No no ever called her Jenny, except Mr. Baker. Normally she disliked the nickname, but felt affection when called it by her boss. She had built a vault of trust with him, so much so she even left her spare house keys at the shop. Maybe he'd show up and surprise her with some ham sandwiches one day. He'd say it's important to have an abundance of trust someone in a job with so many dangerous items around. He described how working together like this is exactly what he wanted with his son when he's old enough, if he wanted to become a butcher of course.

It was the 17th December and Christmas was all paid for. Everyone who shared even a similar drop of blood to her had a present literally with their name on it. All of her school and uni friends, and even her old penfriend in France, were all in store for a nice surprise. The last gift she bought was for Mr. Baker. He'd done so much for her and they had become close, so it seemed appropriate. She struggled at first but realised that a a vinyl copy of Black Sabbath's War Pigs would be perfect.

Wrapping all the presents had been easy, especially thanks to her new knot tying skills. Each one was adjourned with a bow. Wrapping up these gifts was infinitely easier than packaging cuts of meat and a lot less slimy, so she was able to enjoy the long hours it took to gradually complete the task. Jennifer had to be thankful for the bonus Mr. Baker had given her though, as the cost of all the paper, string and whatnot added up quickly. It may have worked out cheaper to rent a forest and make the packaging herself.

All of the gifts had been delivered and were under their recipients' trees and there were a fair number for her under the family tree. She, her siblings and her parents had decorated the house thoroughly and Christmas films were being watched. Christmas music was already getting to the point of being overplayed. Her family were happy to have her around for all of this, making it a true family Christmas. It wasn't snowing but it was dull and freezing. Scarves and woolly hats had become essential, and Mrs Davies was adamant everyone wrapped up.

Jennifer was done with university for the term and her time with Mr. Baker had finished, she had to ask herself what came next. Did she continue working at the butcher shop while balancing her time at university? It would be annoying to keep going back and forth, but she'd get to see her family more often and they always say they miss her when she's gone. She could simply say goodbye and focus on her studies (and heavy drinking, which almost goes without saying). It'd be less money, but simpler. While debating these ideas with herself as her own Symposium, a new problem was waiting on her doorstep.

She had just been into town to do some general shopping and buy some extra wine, as you can never have enough at Christmas time. The bottles didn't even make it into the house though, as the bag hit the floor and broke, wine spilling on the concrete. It flowed down the sloped paving stones to the plastic snowman holding a 'Santa Stop Here!' sign, which now stood next to a pig's head.

It wasn't carefully cut or prepared like the animal heads Jennifer grown used to seeing. The remains of its neck were not even or crisp, instead it was raw and jagged, with nicks found around the cranium and ears. Blood was leaking from underneath it and had slowly crept towards the gate before freezing solid, some had started to mix with the wine. One of its eyelids was open, resulting in a morbid wink. Jennifer's nose was too blocked up to smell anything, for which she was eternally thankful.

She took a moment to compose herself and tried tried to think of what to do. Her brothers and sister were at school and her parents were out for the day, so she had some time to figure this out before they returned home. She took a deep breath, carefully placed the bag of now empty wine bottles to the side and left the garden, making sure the gate was properly shut. As she ran down the street, the pig head continued to wink at nobody.

She arrived at Mr. Baker's butchers about fifteen minutes later. She had ran as fast as she could, but stopping at ice patches had slowed her down. Mr. Baker was in the process of cutting chunk of ham using the largest cleaver she'd ever seen.

'There's a pig's head.'

'Yes, in the window. I know.' replied Mr. Baker.

'No. At my house. On the step.'

'Taking your work home with you, are you?' Mr. Baker chuckled.

'No.'

Mr. Baker immediately stopped what he was doing and sat her down on a stool near the door. Jennifer explained the whole visitation, including details about the wine she'd bought. This was partly out of her total confusion and also because she'd got such a good deal on them she wanted to brag. Mr. Baker was silent throughout, simply nodding and making understanding noises until she finished.

'Deary me, that's strange.'

'Did anyone buy a pig's head from you at all in the last few days?'

'No.'

'Have any gone missing?'

'Now you need to relax, young Jenny. While this certainly is a stage situation, we don't want to start speculating.'

'Then where did it come from?'

'I think we can safely ascertain that somewhere a pig is messing it's head. Now come on. ' Mr. Baker helped her to her feet. 'Let's go and get rid of it.'

The whole mess was sorted within the hour. Mr. Baker, completely unfazed by the sight of the head, still winking, still in it's frozen pool of blood. He had it cleared it away in minutes. He bagged it up, then put that bag into a bag, and in another and so on. They both cleaned away any slime it left. Hot water and the drain took care of the icy blood and wine. They put down some disinfectant and hoped the lingering smell would leave of its own accord. Mr. Baker left with a faint smile, taking the evidence with him. Jennifer was finally able to sit down inside, heating turned way up, as she contemplated the day so far and what she would do next. She abstained from any wine and stuck with tea. Staying on at the butchers was now an even more confusing prospect, but she expected she was going to see more of Mr. Baker in the coming days.

Her parents were home later that afternoon. Marsha and Brian were in their fifties and still very much in love. They had been doing some last minute shopping and then taken lunch. They were laughing when they entered the door and surprised to see Jennifer sprawled out on the settee, her eyes deadly focused on nothing.

'Hard day?' asked her mother.

'Hnnn.'

'Oh, dear. I'll put some tea on.'

Jennifer barely moved for the rest of the night. Even as her brothers (Mark, Andrew, Liam) and her sister (Elizabeth) arrived home from school, bouncing off the walls at the excitement that they'd finished for Christmas. Their happiness wasn't as infectious as Jennifer had hoped though, as she never really snapped out of her mood. She ate, she watched the evening quiz shows and soaps, but she couldn't get the winking pig out of her head. Who could have put it there? Why would anyone put it there? Was it some sort of initiation rite by Mr. Baker? No, it couldn't be. He wouldn't do anything like that. He also seemed surprised and concerned by the whole thing. If it wasn't him though, then who?

Jennifer stopped going around in thought circles eventfully and went to bed. She was surprised she fell asleep so easily. Very little of her dreams involved pig heads, but the one time it did caused her to be wide awake at 4am. It took half an hour to get back to sleep and nightmares resumed.

When she got up in the morning, her mum had breakfast (cereal, toast, orange juice) in front of her within seconds. It was eaten just as quickly. Mrs. Davies was glad her daughter was home for Christmas and wished she hadn't moved to halls closer to university so she could keep an eye on her. She knew something was wrong with her daughter, but she also knew better than to pry. A similar thing had occurred when Jennifer was fifteen. Jennifer had gone into herself and Marsha Davies had bothered her daughter and constantly asked if she was okay, if she wanted to talk and so on. This led to Jennifer becoming more detached. Mrs. Davies would discover what had happened over social media, as it turned out Derrick, Jennifer's boyfriend, had cheated on her with Melissa. Melissa was supposed to be going out with Dave, but she'd been with Alan the week before, so she can't be trusted, yeah? But Derrick claims he was and so on. After a few days, her daughter opened up again and went back to normal.

When Jennifer failed her exam to get into university, she did the same thing. The Davies parents decided to wait and and trust their daughter. Within the week she'd explained everything to them and they were able help her get a retest. Marsha Davies knew her daughter and whatever was wrong, she'd come to her eventually. Either that or forget and instead focus on Christmas. Only six days to go! I best finish the wrapping, she thought.

The next few days grew easier for Jennifer. Nothing of note happened, other than her uncle Roger brining the family over for a few hours. He was eager to talk about recent mortuary goings on. Jennifer caught up, laughed and talked about TV with her siblings and nephews and even found herself video gaming with them. Chocolate, cake and biscuits were aplenty, so her mood began to lift. She had been thinking about the head less and less, instead she just felt a perpetual tinge of dread and unease. She even had a glass of wine.

She managed to visit Mr. Baker on Christmas Eve and give him his present. He was busy slicing us sirloin but appreciative of the gift. He indicated that there was something for her behind the till. She took the square box, about a foot long with her and put it under the tree, which at this point was lifted off the ground because of the swell of gifts. She was definitely curious as to what it was, but it wasn't head shaped, didn't smell of decay and no blood was dripping from it, so she felt it would be something good.

After a night of laughter and fun, she went to bed on Christmas Eve and slept peacefully. The event was starting to feel like something that happened to someone else. It was best to forget about it. It was probably someone crazy person doing something random. It's not her business. It's over.

[imjustthemechanic]

Our Own Demons

Part 1/? - A Bolt from the Blue Part 2/? - A Different World Part 3/? - Stark At Home Part 4/? - Pot Roast Night Part 5/? - Space-Pie Continuum Part 6/? - Energy Signature

What if Tony Stark really were the villain of the Marvel universe?  How would that work?  Tony himself is about to find out, as he battles his inner demons (and some outer ones, too) across a multiverse of infinite possibilities.

Beth looked from one of them to the other as if wondering if maybe she was the one going crazy, then took a deep breath.  “Well,” she said.  “I guess I owe you an apology, Mister…” she gave Tony a watery smile.

“Stark,” said Tony.  “I’m also Mr. Stark.”

Beth cocked her head.  “I thought you were Italian on your mother’s side,” she said to the other.

“I am,” Tony’s counterpart told her.  “He just lives there.”

“Very pretty country,” said Tony.  “Lots of art.  And…” he tried to remember what he’d seen the last time he’d been to Italy.  That had been mere months ago, but he remembered very little besides skinny-dipping in the warm Adriatic with Pepper.  Though… they had visited Pompeii.  “Volcanoes. You know, volcanic soil is very fertile. Very good for grapes.”

“I, uh… right,” said Beth.  “Well, it was nice meeting you, um…”

“Arno,” the other blurted out.  “This is cousin Arno.”  He slapped Tony on the back, and then tried to get the conversation back where Tony had been taking it.  “Look, can we come in?  JANIS has some kind of error and I need to reset my key card.”

Beth had been on the verge of softening.  Now she stiffened right back up.  “By an ‘error’, you mean it’s not letting you into a place you want to go,” she observed.  She wasn’t angry anymore – instead, this was a retread of familiar territory.  Tony got the idea that she’d helped his double get into several places the man wasn’t supposed to be, and that every time it happened she’d sworn that would be the last.  Sure enough: “I told you I couldn’t do that again.  It’s not worth my job, Tony.”

“I’ll take the blame for it, I promise,” the other said.

“Tony!”

“Hey.”  Tony himself butted in.  “You know what?  All he needs from you is plausible deniability, right?”  He looked at his double for confirmation.  “So you come over here and talk to me, and then later you can say that you had your eye on a guy who looked like Tony Stark the whole time, and you have no idea what happened.”  He gave her his most charming smile.

Beth sighed, but gave in.  She stepped aside so Tony’s double could enter the office, and stood with her back to the door.

“So,” she said.  “You… grow grapes?  On a volcano in Italy?”

“No, no,” Tony said.  “I just like wine.  I’m… I’m an art dealer.  Modern art.”

“That must be interesting.”

“It has its moments of high drama,” Tony agreed. “Yesterday was definitely not the first time somebody hit me when I told them who I was.”

Tony was halfway through a completely made-up story about his revenge on a man who’d sold him a fake Degas when his counterpart returned with the card key in hand.  “I’ve got it,” he announced.  “Let’s go.”

“Has he told you this story, Tony?” asked Beth.  “The one about the horse and the guy with the fake mustache?”

“Fifty times,” the other replied, without missing a beat.  “By the way… we’re gonna be playing a practical joke on Miss Potts later, so maybe don’t tell anybody you saw us, okay?”

Beth gave him a cynical look.  “Right,” she said.  “I can’t wait to hear about it.”

As they tramped down the concrete stairwell back to the basement, the other observed, “that actually didn’t go too badly.”

“Oh, didn’t it?” asked Tony.  “You’re not the one who’s supposed to answer to Arno.  Why Arno?”

“Like the river,” said the other with a shrug. “It’s the first Italian name I thought of.”

“We told her I wasn’t Italian,” Tony reminded him. “If I’m your cousin on Dad’s side I’m probably from Vienna.”

“There’s German guys named Arno.  It’s European,” the other said.  “And I doubt you’ll ever see her again, so why does it matter?”

“You’ll see her again,” Tony said.  “What’ll she think when you can’t keep your story straight?”

“She’ll think I’m a jerk and a liar.  She already thinks that.”  He sighed.  “That was three strikes anyway.  I’m out.”

“Maybe,” said Tony, who did wonder what strikes one and two had been, but decided not to ask.  The answer would probably make him wish he hadn’t, anyway.  “But we just gave you an out for it.  You’re only at two and a half, so you might be able to salvage it if you’re smooth enough.”

The other looked at him suspiciously.  “Firs the thing about Miss Potts, and now this. Why are you so interested in my love life?”

“I’ve got a vested interest in Tony Stark getting laid.”

“It’s creepy,” said the other.  “Cut it out.”

When they entered the workshop, they found it in exactly the same condition as Tony remembered from yesterday: suit parts strewn on the floor, and even the pipe wrench in the same places as Tony had made the other put it down.  That meant nobody else had been in here, which was good.  The junk robot Tony had noticed yesterday was still there – it raised its claw with a happy-sounding whirring noise, and Tony’s double gave it a pat on the chassis.

Tony himself bent down to pick up the faceplate, and realized it was actually broken.  The suit had been physically torn apart as the space inside it had suddenly become bigger than its surface area could hold. Tony could build a lot of things, but a TARDIS wasn’t one of them.  He was careful not to touch the torn edges.  If their theory were correct, that was where the tesseract trace would be.

“Sorry about that,” he said, turning the faceplate over to look at the inside.  It was a pretty piece of kit, he thought.  His own suits were all about appearance as much as anything else, but they were designed mainly to look solid, immovable objects capable of unstoppable force.  This one had more of an elegance to it, so that the power it was capable of would come almost as a surprise.  Perfect for Pepper, he thought.

The other propped open a laptop.  “Okay,” he said.  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Tony set the faceplate down on a workbench and came to look over his double’s shoulder.  “SHIELD let me look at some of their equipment after the battle,” he said.  “It still had the trace in it, so I should recognize the signature.”  He shivered, trying to push away the still-troubling memory of falling and falling with the blackness closing in… no. No time to think about that.

“Really?  Lucky,” said the other.  “I’d’ve given my right arm to see some of that.  I wonder what they did with it after.”

“No idea,” Tony said.  Agents had snatched all the stuff back again a few days later for ‘storage’ leaving Tony with only the barest beginnings of the data he’d hoped to have – data that could have helped make sure something like the Chi’Tauri invasion would never happen again.  If he ever got a second chance, he wasn’t going to sleep for as long as he had the thing.  “They had machines that could siphon out the energy and store it.  If we want to make this work without a tesseract of our own, we’re gonna need something similar.”

He remembered what the apparatus looked like, at least.  Tony reached for the nearest table, automatically trying to create a hologram… but nothing happened.

“Hey, what have you got for diagramming stuff?” he asked.

“Whiteboard.”  The other jabbed a thumb at the far wall.  There was a wheeled board there, covered with circuit diagrams and equations. IN the lower right corner was scrawled orange juice, printer cartridge, bagels, dish soap (IMPORTANT), and there were two shirts draped over the top of it, as if they’d been washed and hung there to dry.

“I have so much to teach you,” Tony remarked.  He left the grocery list as he wiped the rest away, and tossed the shirts onto a chair so he could begin to draw what he remembered of the energy storage equipment.

“Here’s something,” the other said.  “It says here that the energy reacts violently with living tissue.”

Tony did recall reading something about that, and at the time he’d wondered what sort of experiments they’d done to learn it. There hadn’t really been anybody he could ask.  “Tissue? Like what, organs?”

“It says that an agent cut himself on something and there was a ‘violent reaction’ to the blood.”

Tony shivered.  “You want to talk about creepy?  That’s good old-fashioned nightmare fuel,” he said.  He heard a clinking sound, and turned around to find his double rooting through a mini-fridge next to the sagging old sofa.  “Really?  You read that and you immediately decide to have a snack?  What are you hungry for?  Black pudding?”

“No.  Ah, this’ll do.”  The other stood up, holding a rather unfortunate-looking bottle of caramel frappuccino.  There was no cap on it – he sniffed it gingerly and made a face.  “Yeah, there’s living tissue in there,” he said, and before Tony could stop him, he’d tossed a broken suit finger onto the table and poured a drop onto the exposed circuitry.

The phrase ‘poured a drop’ was not quite accurate – the remains of the frappuccino were very organic indeed, and it would have been more accurate to say he ‘let a blob ooze’ onto the shard of armor.  The words ‘violent reaction’, however, worked very well indeed.  A crackle of blue energy flared up, incinerating the liquid and scorching the table.  Tony froze as the image of that horrible hole in the sky flashed before his eyes again, and his double staggered backwards, spilling the rest of the expired drink down the front of himself.

The only individual who reacted usefully was the robot.  It grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and rolled over to douse the workbench.  This ended whatever reaction was going on in the remains of the suit, and sent a shock wave across the room.  Papers and empty coffee cups scattered as if in a gale.  Tony was tossed back against the whiteboard, which bounced off the wall and fell down on top of him.  His double got a much softer landing on the couch, and the robot tipped over and lay on its side, spinning its wheels helplessly.

After a moment of ringing silence, Tony wiggled out from under the whiteboard and pushed it back upright again.

“Violent reaction,” he said.  “Yeah, okay.”  Good thing he’d avoided the edges of the faceplate.

His counterpart crawled off the couch and got the robot back on its wheels, inspecting it for damage.  “Good boy,” he murmured to it, stroking the parts as if it were an animal.  “I’m not mad, that wasn’t your fault… you were a good boy…”  Once satisfied that the machine was still whole, he straightened up and looked at what Tony had been drawing.  It was now slightly smeared where Tony’s body had collided with the board.

“So, there’s a way to collect and store that instead of… um… dispersing it?” he said hopefully.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed.  Clearly transporting somebody between universes required a lot more out of the tesseract than opening a wormhole did.  He looked at his half-finished sketch, and picked up the marker to start filling in the bits he’s accidentally erased.  “I’ll draw, you build.”  The other would have a much better idea what materials were available than Tony did.  He would just have to make sure his notes included what properties the parts ought to have.  “By the way. Just a question, does your robot have a name?”

“Not really,” the other said, gathering up the stuff that had been blown off the workbench.  “Not an official one.  I call him Smartypants.”

“That figures,” Tony said.  “Causes a lot of destruction, does he?”

The other glared at him.  “He does his best,” he said defensively.

The phone on the desk rang.

Tony and his double looked at each other.  What had just happened had probably been felt throughout the building, and even if nobody else had come to the right conclusion about the cause, Miss Potts certainly would have.  Neither of them moved to answer it.

The phone rang again, and again, and again, and finally the machine picked it up.

You’ve reached the Special Projects workshop at Potts Technologies, said JANIS’ voice. The SP Manager is not available at the moment but if you leave a message…

Tony breathed out.  “We don’t have much time before she comes down here, do we?”

“No,” said the other.  “Let’s get to work.”