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faeriekit · 2 months

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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i-draws-dinosaurs · 4 months

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Just saw ur vulture post. Could a dinosaur have a crown like a chicken? If so, which ones are most likely to have this feature?

I feel like chicken combs are one of those things that's so normal to us because we're familiar with chickens that we don't appreciate how wacky looking it is, like this animal's entire face gets turned into a massive billboard of red skin flaps.

As far as I'm aware there's no underlying bone structure that correlates to chickens' combs, so if an extinct dinosaur did have one we wouldn't see it in the fossil record unless it was exceptionally well preserved. That being said, there are a few guidelines that can help make some generally arm-wavey guesses about what may or may not have had them!

For predator species I'd say large brightly coloured billboards on the face are fairly unlikely since across most land vertebrates predators tend to prioritise stealth and blending in. I don't know for sure, but I would guess that more carrion-eating vultures have adornment because they don't need to stay hidden from their food, cause it's, y'know. dead.

Dromaeosaurs are generally though to be predators, although like most predators they probably incorporated scavenging into their feeding patterns and we don't know whether there were any species that specialised as carrion eaters! I have drawn dromaeosaurs with combs or crests before, and I definitely don't think it's an impossible suggestion, but I think it's most reasonable to give them muted colours like with this Saurornitholestes:

I would guess that smaller omnivorous or herbivorous maniraptorans like oviraptorosaurs or small ground birds are more likely candidates to have flashy skin on their faces, although large oviraptorosaurs with bony crests probably didn't also have a comb on top of that.

Something like Avimimus, which was a small oviraptorosaur that likely lived in groups according to a bonebed of at least ten individuals together. Something like a colourful comb or wattles on these guys could be used for social signalling or species recognition:

As far as I'm aware there's next to no skin data for small ornithischians like heterodontosaurids and ornithopods aside from the funky Kulindadromeus scales, but being small, mostly herbivorous, probably quite social animals I can see an evolutionary benefit to bright signalling structures! Alongside oviraptorosaurs, I think small ornithischians like Manidens here are probably the best non-avian analogue to modern ground fowl that have these kinda of wacky skin structures:

So overall. Yeah I think there's potential that Mesozoic dinosaurs could have had a chickenlike comb! Like with modern fowl, it would have evolutionary value to small social species as a display structure, but tradeoffs like being more visible to predators/prey would definitely be in play here.

I mean obviously the tradeoff is worth it in some cases since we get creatures like this walking around on this earth:

Basically my message with all this is like. When doing palaeoart look into what areas are open to speculation, then think about what factors might constrain those!

#dinosaurs #paleoart #paleontology #palaeoblr #id in alt text

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rninies · 1 month

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✮ matching hoodies

౨ৎ veritas ratio x reader. fluff, gn!reader, ratio is so in love w you, modern!au — wc: 733 | tags: @rosequarzo @fairykazu

notes. hai im back w another ratio fic

"remind me why we are here again?" veritas asks, watching you look through the hoodie section of the store.

"i’m here to buy a hoodie, veritas. you’ve asked that question ten times now," you sighed. turning your head to face him, you see a pronounced frown on his face. "why are you frowning? do you not like accompanying me shopping?"

"no it’s just- our closet is already full of your hoodies. more than half of the closet is filled with your stuff. why do you need more?" veritas answers.

you give him a sheepish smile in return. "well, i happen to be someone who loves hoodies so deal with it. besides, i know you love borrowing my hoodie from time to time."

veritas's face actually turns a light shade of red hearing you expose his actions. "you- you didn’t have to say that out loud, idiot."

you gasped dramatically. "veritas ratio, language!" and you dodged an incoming balled-up scrap of paper. "what was that for?!"

“for being annoying.”

"oh you wound me," you placed a hand over your chest for dramatic effect and couldn’t help the laugh from escaping your lips as you see veritas's disgusted look. "okay, how about you sit over there while i find the perfect hoodie for me to wear, yeah?" you pointed at the small seating area and veritas agrees silently, taking the other shopping bags with him.

as soon as veritas sits down and busies himself with his phone, you scavenged through the pile of hoodies, racks of sweaters, basically anything that fits the category ‘long-sleeved and keeps us warm’. hoodie hunting wasn’t your favorite pastime as it not only takes up so much of your time but you also have to let go of the other cute hoodies you find along the way.

when you reached the last pile of hoodies, you find a white hoodie with a small brown dinosaur holding out a finger heart while winking and facing the right. looking below that was an identical one, it being a black hoodie with a green dinosaur doing the same pose except it’s facing the left. putting the two hoodies next to each other, it makes it seem like the dinosaurs are shooting hearts at each other.

your eyes light up as soon as you find these two pairs of hoodies, grabbing both and ran to the cashier (veritas fortunately did not see you). as soon as you paid, you basically skipped your way back to veritas, which caught his attention. "why- when did you pay for the hoodie? i could’ve paid for you."

"just now!" you replied and took out the black hoodie from the bag, showing it to him. "look, isn’t it cute? especially the dinosaur!"

veritas nods, not really paying attention to the hoodie. "it’s cute, yeah- what are you do-" he gets cut off when you basically force him to wear the hoodie.

taking out the white hoodie, you wore it, and smiled at him. "look, now we match!"

veritas looks at the mirror in front of him and true to your words, you both were indeed matching. "what the hell?"

"don’t you dare take it off," you warned, seeing veritas about to reach for the hem of the hoodie. "i paid for these hoodies and you’re keeping it. it’s cute, okay? look at the dinosaurs! just like you and me."

"very funny, y/n," veritas grumbles, holding you by the waist as he leads you out of the store. "this is embarrassing!" though the way his hands tightened around your waist says a different thing.

"be glad i didn’t end up picking one where it was super obvious that we got matching hoodies." you say, poking his cheeks. "besides, we don’t have any matching items! the closest thing we have to something classified as matching is that keychain we bought on our first date."

"and do you not like the keychains?" veritas asks. "it’s two cats and when you connect them with each other it looks like they’re cuddling with each other.”

"okay, i did not ask for your inner cat lover to come out when we’re discussing the keychains," you pointed out. "yes i love the keychains, but i want something more, hence the hoodies."

veritas groans, looking at his hoodie and yours. "be glad that i love you."

"that’s such a cliche thing to say." you giggled.

"shut up."

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chairkirby · 2 years

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where were you when scientists split a tyrannosaurus into three smaller tyrannosauruses

#nature #im excited to see the fanart of the differences between the three species #some people still struggle with the notion these massive scavengers were covered in feathers but everything new i find out about dinosaurs #is a genuine blast

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 1 year

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I know it's such a highly popular dinosaur but are they any interesting facts about the Tyrannosaurus Rex that isn't well known? I still love the Rexes wishing more dinosaur media treated it in the same way nature documentaries treat modern carnivores as animals just trying to surive and not just ripping up every living thing they encounter.

T. rex is actually one of the best studied (non-neornithine) dinosaurs ever, period. In fact, writing all the interesting facts we know about it is... more work than I particularly want to do right now, lol.

some things off the top of my head:

it wasn't built for moving fast in terms of miles per hour or whatever, but they were built for extreme cursoriality in other ways. Essentially, T. rex and its relatives were built for turning, quickly, on a dime. And they moved faster than the herbivores they were chasing. So these were animals built for short, surprise attacks on their prey. And ballet dancing

T. rex had the best sense of smell... ever. Like, ever ever. And its eyesight and hearing were good too. It had a fairly large brain for where it is in the dinosaur family tree, as well. Essentially, this was a dinosaur built to take in as much sensory info as possible, to pinpoint prey as quickly as possible.

T. rex aged kind of like people! IE, the process of going from infant -> sexually and skeletally mature adult takes about the same amount of time, with similar stages happening at similar times. So, T. rex had an awkward teenage phase! They were tall, but very skinny and lanky, and many researchers think that different ages of Tyrannosaurus filled different niches, with bigger rexes eating larger prey and the teens eating smaller faster dinosaurs.

That said, there's lots of evidence for familial groups and social life in Tyrannosaurs, based on fossilization patterns and footprint records. So it's very likely they took care of their young, and hunted in groups.

did they have feathers? no idea. they're big enough to have lost them for thermoregulation like many other dinosaurs did. they are in a group that have some big feathered animals, though, like Yutyrannus. Maybe babies had feathers and adults lost them. Maybe adults kept them some places and not others. We do know that there are parts of the Tyrannosaurus adult body that had scales. Beyond that - whether feathers were present too, or not - we don't know.

it was not skeletally sexually dimorphic. however, we do know that some tyrannosaurs were female because the fossilized when they were in the process of making eggs. during this process, dinosaurs - including living birds - deposit extra tissue in their bones called medullary bone. This tissue stores calcium to make eggshells from later. It's only present in actively ovulating female dinosaurs. So, we know some of our fossils were making eggs when they died!

the arms were small, yeah, but they were VERY strong. these weren't vestigial organs, yet, though their shortness was mainly due to the strengthening of the neck muscles. T. rex interacted with the world primarily with its head and jaws. The arms would have been helpful with holding on during mating, or possibly for display.

it wasn't a scavenger. it was an opportunist. No predators today avoid easy meals - life is all about minimizing energy spent to get more energy. But obligate scavengers tend to be flying organisms, ones that can cover huge distances, in order to find enough carrion. T. rex was definitely a predator, and had to hunt occasionally, but wouldn't turn up its nose at an easy meal.

T. rex lived all over western north america, right at the end of the age of dinosaurs. It was one of the most successful nonavian dinosaurs, ever, and would probably not have gone extinct so quickly if there hadn't been an asteroid.

#tyrannosaurus #dinosaurs #t. rex #palaeoblr #paleontologist ama

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spookypete-94 · 12 days

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Dark Horse-Intentions

Part 3

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

Dark Horse-

Part 3

John followed close behind while walking home with you and Abel. He had finally introduced you to the 3 that seem to follow him like lost dogs. Kyle, Johnny... and Ghost. Seeming to find it strange the other 2 provided you with their given names, and Ghost only trusting you so much.

Shaking it off, hoping for an explanation later, you asked Abel about his day. He was excited because he was learning about dinosaurs, his field trip tomorrow to the museum in the city. Reminding you, you would need to send him with money hoping to have enough for him to get what he wanted for lunch and a souvenir at the shop.

Once home, you unlocked the door pushing it open for Abel to go in first and stood waiting for John to follow in behind him. Instead, he stood at the door holding it open for you to go in.

"After you," his low grumble heard only between you and him, arm outstretched above your head. His bright blue orbs gleaming down at you once again.

"Thank you," your voice quiet and mousey, stepping in and kicking your shoes off.

Abel turned to look at John. "Can I see your hat?" he asked, head tilted up to look at him while he asked.

"Abel," your tone holding a slight warning to it for asking something so rude.

"Don't mind," John said taking it off, giving it a little shake to rid it of its normal every day dirt. The same smile and chuckle that always seemed to fill him when he was around you now being brushed off on Abel.

"Why do you wear it?"

"Used to be to keep the sun off of me, now it's just an everyday habit."

"Cool." Abel said, turning to the sides to look at it closer. "Mom, can I have a hat?"

Sighing you smiled as you ruffled his hair. "You'd probably lose it."

"Think I have one at home you can have." John said standing up fully again, hands resting on the back of his hips taking the hat back after Abel was done examining it. He hooked it up on the coat rack.

"Come on, let's get ready for tomorrow for your big day and then bed," ushering Abel to step in further to your home. John took a better step in looking around. It was small, but functional for you and Abel. 2 bedrooms, 1 small bathroom, and laundry on site. He was taking mental notes on what made you, well... you.

"Go get your clothes set out for tomorrow and find pajamas, and I'll pack your bags with the things you need." Abel sprinting off to his room, excited to pick out what he would wear for a special occasion. John stood against the wall leaning, one shoulder against it in the kitchen watching you go through the checklist making sure his homework was done. Sliding in a notebook and pencil along with his science book that was requested on the field trip sheet.

"Making them do homework?" John asked, confused.

"Guess it's their way of making them learn about the dinosaurs they see while doing a scavenger hunt."

"Ah." He said stepping forward now seeing you count the tips you had acquired from today to send with Abel for lunch.

"Here," he said sliding you 2 higher count bills.

"I got it, its ok."

"I insist. Let me."

"John, I got it."

"Don't be stubborn with me," he said sliding it forward, tone maybe almost scolding you. "If anything, send him with what you have already so he can get something nice if he wants it."

Sighing, you looked at him for a few seconds through your lashes sternly before putting the money he had given you with yours into a little coin bag and hooking it into his bookbag, so it didn't get lost.

"Thank you," your voice quiet again.

"Don't mention it."

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

Abel was finally tucked into bed, the clock on the wall now reading 9:30. Honestly this was the earliest he had gone to bed all week, assuming it was from him being excited about waking up tomorrow.

Quietly shutting his door, you found John sitting on the couch in the living room.

"Want something to drink?" You asked walking into the kitchen.

"Just want you to sit with me," he said eyes trailing you as you walked by grabbing a bottle water. His reply made you give a small smile and a huff. It was such a satisfying answer that somehow made you warm and tingly.

Finally sitting down next to him you leaned with your couch into the side to better face him, an arm propped up on the couch.

"You going to tell me what you told him?"

"Mmmmm," was his only grumble, his eyes closing and leaning back onto the couch. Finally, his eyes opened back up and was looking up at the ceiling. "Real winner that guys is." he said softly, almost like he was saying it to himself. Instead of answering him you just nodded, waiting for his moment of silence to break and tell you what happened.

"Told him what the plan was. Was going to marry you and you can have access to a lawyer. Would go as far as he wanted to take it and to whatever extent that made you happy. Informed him he wasn't going to speak to you the way he has and would not just force himself into your place of work..." he said ending the statement like he wanted to say more.

You had noticed, eyebrows lifting, "And?" you questioned. "What else?"

"Told him if he broke those rules, would made sure to break him."

Giving a singular nod, showing you had heard and understood what he meant, you stayed quiet. Now fidgeting with the new ring that was on your left finger.

"Talk to me, Love."

"I'm grateful for everything, do not get me wrong... but, you can't hurt him. He is the father of my child. And for some reason for as much hatred as he has for me, he does love Abel."

"You can't let someone treat you like that. Especially in front of Abel. That behavior is not ok."

"But beating him is?"

"Look, I've dealt with a lot of men that only see violence as the answer. That is your ex. A man that thinks he can scare you into submission. And like in my job, I'm not going to stand by and let that happen to you."

"That's how you see me? A job?"

"I didn't say that.” He said regret in his sound in choice of words. The next you knew he was scrambling down in front of you, on his knees taking your hands into his. Thumb passing back and forth over his mother's ring. "I see you as a person that has dealt with enough. I see you as someone that is strong enough to deal with it and make it work no matter the problem, but it hurts me to stand by and watch. I can help and I want to. I will stand and defend you. Not that you need it, but because you deserve it. I see Abel and think of my own childhood and how I wished I could do more for my mother...I can do something now." he admitted quietly.

Shifting slowly, he rested your forehead against his, eyes closing and only feeling in the moment.

Finally opening your eyes, you saw his matching of that the look a hawk would give you. Almost like you were prey but he was watching you, reading your body language. Your eyes opened and he found peace there knowing that his explanation worked in bringing you back to him.

Leaning in closer, both of your breathing became heavy. Exchanging his oxygen for your own.

"John," you voice a near whine as he finally leaned forward kissing you. It started off gently, testing the waters seeing how much you could take and what you wanted. Finally turning hungry, all of it becoming mouth and tongue. Both of you being careful of clashing teeth. Your fingers of your right hand ran into his hair, left hand wandering down his shoulders, on to his chest and abdomen before his reached out and stopped you from going any lower.

"Easy sweet girl," his voice hot and heavy in your ear casting goose bumps across your skin. "When I take you, it will be all night, and you're going to sing like the pretty bird you are. Can't do that with your boy sleepin' in the room over." His voice was so rough, making you melt into him, his choice of words making you run hot. Finally, he bit your neck, making you stifle a moan, hiding in his shoulder as he was still on his knees in front of you. Lastly, he gave you a chaste kiss over the love mark he had just left before standing up, hand out to you. Taking his hand, he pulled you in for a hug and embraced you.

"Get some sleep, Love." he said kissing the top of your head before letting go and heading back to the door where his hat and boots awaited him.

"And wear something nice tomorrow, I'm picking you and Abel up in the morning."

"I have to work..." You said confused.

"No, you don't. Already spoke with Kate. You and I are going to the courthouse tomorrow to make this real and then I'm taking you out for the day before we pick up Abel."

Clutching your hand to your chest, a nervous habit, a small and meek, "Oh," left you.

Watching him grab the door handle, you moved to him, "Wait," he said standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him once more.

It was the same again, hungry, hot, and wet before John broke it off.

"Save it for tomorrow, we will have plenty of time together." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him and giving a brief smile before walking out your front door. Locking it, you stood there for a long while wondering at the hell just happened.

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Captain John Price Masterlist

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