#that i had to go to the same office where i changed my birth certificate

[elmonstro]

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[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

So I didn't want to involve the people on this post in my shenanigans. Mostly because I don't want to see a dogpile, or because I don't want to deal with the ignorance that will come from the responses.

So this showed up on my dash

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And honestly I don't think they understand what's really going on. There are a lot of people living in a bubble and it kind of annoys me a bit.

People are not pissed that LGBT people exist. Contrary to popular belief. Nor are they mad that LGBT products exist. What they are mad about is that June has become, "Worship the LGBT or else" month. And while many don't think that's true, it very much is.

I've seen pride parade over the last 6+ years with HEAVY kink involvement IN PUBLIC in full view of kids. Also in full view of people who really don't want to see it. People who can't close their businesses. People who have appointments to keep at offices. Dick shaped lollipops. Near full nudity. What used to be SUPPOSEDLY a celebration of love is now a degenerate (and that's coming from me) fetish fest. More over, if you don't brandish your cult symbol, people get mad at you. And now a days threaten to destroy your livelihood.

(And before you continue reading. THIS MAY well ruffle some feathers. And while you may not agree with my sentiment, this post is not hateful. It's observations and ideas based on people I've talked to both in and out of the LGBT, things I've experienced in my own life, and stuff I've read up on over the years. And while I'm not as articulate as a used to be, it's written not in anger, but with the intention of explaining all of my thoughts. And while they may not get across the way I want, I mean no hate by them.)

Pride hasn't been about love in years. It's been about how degenerate and fetishy can we get in public until they start putting us in jail. Except we can't even do that anymore because protected classes get an absolute pass to break the laws now. And you might not see that but everyone else does.

What's more, what LGBT means now isn't what it used to mean. It's some weird amalgamation taking every sex based thing and non sex based thing and shoving it all under the same umbrella. Hell, most modern trans activists want to get rid of gay people. And no that's not some joke or conspiracy.

Consider this. A lot of modern "LGBT" people claim that gender is a social construct right? Ok and now they are trying to say there is no difference between men and women. In the biological sense. Now you have, "Lady dicks and man pussys" and what not. Except it's not a joke. And I'm not joking. I've been seeing a hard push from trans activists in the modern day, to claim that biological sex does not matter (to the point they want to be able to change their birth certificates), and that if you are a Female dating a male, so long as they SAY they are a woman you are still somehow a lesbian.

THEN you have the now famous Tim Pool clip where the guy from The Serfs claims that if a woman sleeps with an effeminate man, she's actually a lesbian. Or vice versa, if a man dates a non feminine woman, he's actually gay. I don't think most of you realize right now but modern activists are hell bent on erasing gay people. Gay in it's ACTUAL meaning. Which is sexual attraction to the same SEX. Not the same gender. Which both were interchangeable for years. Now it's a clusterfuck of what ever either side wants it to mean. And that's devastating for society. It's devastating for communication between people. And it's devastating for relationships.

Things are breaking down at the seams. People who have been gay their entire lives now have to contend with being called bigots by self righteous, narcissistic, young, dumb people trying to tell them THEY are the bigots. When arguably they had it much harder in society. Hell the middle east STILL gives you 2 options if you are gay. Transition so you are not a monster, or die. Because at least if you appear like the opposite sex you can't participate in your debauchery. That's how they view it. And activists in the west are doing the exact same in their own way. It's pretty fucking scary.

But to the original point. It's not just about Trans this, Gay that, Lesbian this, or anything. People are just tired of the celebrations. Because it's moved way past that into glorification. To a point that among the people that support it, they are deifying it. That's not exaggeration. You are now considered boring if you are straight. You are considered an evil racist monster if you are "cis". And don't get me started on the rant that is talking about that term. Kids are now being indoctrinated into being something other than straight and their own sex/gender. Because according to this hell site and others like it, "Straight people are so boring and stupid and violent and and and and and~" Fuck you.

You don't get to shit on straight people with impunity and then get upset when they say enough. You don't get to tell people that "every day is straight pride day" meanwhile smearing your privates in their faces for a full month. No criticism. No conversation. Just mindless worship. And don't tell me that's not what it is. That is fully what it is.

And before anyone decides to come at me telling me I'm transphobic or homophobic, Plenty of LGBT people agree with me. Some even have more extreme views on all of this than I do. Mine seems to be the very mild view on all of this considering.

But we don't need a pride month anymore in the US. The initial movement was about not just getting the right to marry, but being able to be seen as human just like everyone else.

Well guess what? It has not been like that since 2012. Now it's about, "Call me my pronouns or I'll cut your head off" and "If you don't celebrate pride then your a bigot, a monster, and a nazi", or, "I can't believe this old woman called me young lady, WTF, I'm clearly a man" or my personal favorite, "Kink needs to be in front of kids so they can grow up and understand good sex". Yeah. I've actually heard every one of these IN PERSON and wanted to call the cops on the last one. And fringe or not, these ARE the views being pushed to the forefront.

And more than that even. A school quite literally said, "Memorial day weekend? What's that? Pride month though. Let's dress all these kids in pride stuff and parade them around to prove how virtuous we are."

Yes this DID actually happen. A school opted to not recognize or celebrate our fallen, and instead opted into worship. Modern pride is a cult. I'm not sorry for saying it. Most of you pushed to see how far until it was too far. And now you WILL see people walk back acceptance of the LGBT as a whole. You waved your crotches in their faces for long enough and they've had it.

And that makes me pretty upset honestly. Because my LGBT friends may likely have to suffer through widespread discrimination again because you didn't understand how far is too far. And then when you were told how far too far was, you opted to take it further than that.

Now let me cool the pot as it were. I'm not putting this on the LGBT people who've been nothing but good people, who just have been trying to live and enjoy their lives. And I don't want to see an overreaction to all of this. But the issue is not enough people smacked these activist types down. Their fringe views were allowed to flourish and be the dominate idea. And now we have people boycotting LGBT stuff aimed at kids, and parents are pissed. Kids are already confused enough growing up. Hormones, School, Friends, Parents, figuring out life, etc. It's a confusing time in their lives and they frankly don't need more stuff to be confused about. More over, they don't need to be focused on sexuality (which again is a concept based on SEX based attraction) at 10 y/o. Will they figure that stuff out? Yes. Do they need a LGBT teacher teaching them how to be gay? No.

Do they need books teaching them how to get on gay dating apps at 14 for anonymous hookups with gay men? ALSO no. Do they need to learn how to use butt-plugs at 13-14? FUCK no. Do they need to be taught in gay books how to give head to other boys? NO! THEY DON'T! Do they need drag queens, wearing thongs and a miniskirt twerking in their faces at 6? *cocks shotty*. And before I get the onslaught of, "That's not happening", yes it is. There's proof of it all over the US. Happening in more and more frequency. Including librarians suggesting books featuring explicit content to very young teens.

The final straw was kids. And when you told parents they were not allowed to defend their kids, parents said, "Excuse the fuck out of me". And now here we are. In a country were if you are LGBT and you rape someone, it's perfectly fine. And calling it out is actually bad. If you call out biological men, claiming to be trans so they they can rape women in prison an issue, THAT'S somehow calling all trans people rapist? If you point out that a gay man or a trans woman is grooming kids and or has sexually assaulted them, that SOMEHOW all gay men and trans women are predators?

No one said that. YOU said that. And your fighting tooth and nail to defend people who do those things, is a problem. And it's why people are fed up.

This is not and has never been about anti-LGBT sentiment. But it will become that if people who've done this stuff continue to be shielded. It will become that if normies get even more fed up with the cult like worship once a year of Pride. I don't want to see it become that. It will however, if things don't come down from a boil. Leave kids alone, call out groomers and predators, and stop featuring kink and fetish at pride parades. Put on a rainbow shirt hold hands with your S/O Hold up a sign saying "Love" and that's it. It's super simple. And for the love of all that is holy, stop shaming straight people. Because if you don't they WILL come to resent you. More than some already do.

And just to wrap things up. I don't want to see things get worse for LGBT people. What I do want to see is certain LGBT people stop acting like being LGBT is their entire personality. Because it's not just grating to me. It's grating to other LGBT people. And worst of all it's grating to normies. And they are the people you need to be worried about.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Seven Several Sentences Sunday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 14 is available on AO3 & Chapter 15 will be posted soon.

Currently 14 chapters completed: 417.3K Words Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

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I'm so excited to continue writing Chapter 15 and for anyone who hasn't read Chapter 14, here's a brief overview: Buck and Eddie sat together in Buck's oncologist's office to hear the results of Buck's Cancer Screening, Buck had a setback that reminded Eddie about the day he found Buck unresponsive in his loft back in July, the Buckley parents showed up unannounced, Bobby knows Buck and Eddie are in a relationship but he hasn't said anything and Eddie had a panic attack after they left the scene of a call. Also, Eddie and Karen had a conversation about Eddie's paramedic certification course and Buck and Bobby spent a Saturday together participating in a father and son activity.

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Here's some Buck and Eddie romantic fluff from Chapter 15.

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Buck leans down, he gently rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s back and when he begins to wake up, Buck softly kisses him on the lips, smiles and says, “Good morning my love”.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open and in less than one second, he focuses and once he realizes his boyfriend's ocean blue eyes are looking back at him, he smiles and responds, “Good morning, babe”.  Then as realization sets in, his expression changes to one of confusion because the last thing he remembers is they were talking on the phone before 3:00AM after Buck called and said a current Hershey University professor responded to his Facebook message with information about his biological father.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did but babe… when did you get here?”

“About a half hour ago.  I brought breakfast because today… is “Diaz Day” and you’re not going to do anything except for take a shower, get dressed and relax.”

When Eddie sits up in bed, Buck’s smile widens because even though Eddie’s hair is standing up all over his head, Buck still believes he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life.

“You brought breakfast?”

“I did and I’m going to cook lunch and dinner today too and breakfast in the morning, so you won’t have to do anything.”

Eddie yawns then asks, “Is Chris…”

Buck interrupts him.  “He’s already awake and waiting for us to meet him in the dining room so we can eat.”

Eddie stands and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.  He pulls him close and whispers, “Thank you” into his ear.

“You don’t have to thank me… we’re a team and we have each other’s backs and hearts.”

Eddie tightens his arms around Buck’s waist and buries his face in between his neck and shoulder.  He knows he’s tired and he has been for a couple of days but Buck has his heart and his back and he couldn’t be happier.  He's here and he declared today to be “Diaz Day” and he said he’s going to take care of him.  He’s never had anyone to do anything like this for him before but Buck does these types of romantic and giving gestures all the time and he knows he wants things to be like this for the rest of their lives.

What else does Buck have planned for "Diaz Day?"👀

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Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Will be posted soon.

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Read chapters 1-14 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

Chapter 15 will be posted soon.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Every once in a while I get nostalgic about when music came in albums. Which is silly, because it still does. When my favourite artists put out a new album, I still get the whole thing at once and listen to it all. But I no longer discover new singers or bands via albums. And with the way they all go together in my music collection, I rarely to listen to whole albums at a time unless they’ve just come out and I’m hearing it for the first time.

I’ve been out at my grandparents’ place for the last week, where I’ve come at least once a year since I was a kid, and where I still do the same walks I did as a kid and a teenager and a younger adult, over rocks by the ocean next to their place. When I started this, I wore a backpack that contained my portable CD player and I’d listen to a CD in full as I walked. Now, I still think of this as the time for listening to full albums, and when I walk I like to pick one and just listen to that in order, instead of putting on a playlist or all the songs by an artist. I like the sense you get of the way they decided to put it together, of the way they changed since their previous album and would change in their next one, of the care they took in ordering the songs that’s been lost on a changed world that doesn’t consume music that way anymore. I realize I could listen to music that way all the time, if I really wanted to preserve that. But I don’t do it that way. Listening to full albums is something I only do sometimes, like when I’m at this house where I used to play CDs.

Anyway, I’ve spent the last week listening to full albums by Dave Gunning, a folk singer from Nova Scotia, Canada, and one of my favourite musicians in the world. With painstaking effort because there’s something I hugely love in every one of them, I have ranked them from my most to least favourite, because that’s the sort of thing I liked doing when I was a teenager and I’ve decided it’s fun:

1. Two-Bit World (2004)

2. House For Sale (2007)

3. Up Against The Sky (2019)

4. ...a tribute to John Allan Cameron (2010)

5. No More Pennies (2012)

6. Lift (2015)

7. We're All Leaving (2009)

8. Live (2002)

9. Christmas (2006)

10. Christmas Too (2011)

11. Caught Between Shadows (2000)

I am completely aware that this is incredibly uninteresting to anyone, but those are my rankings of Dave Gunning albums. His music is appropriate for being out here, partly because it comes from the same place (in a physical, geographic sense as well as a cultural one) as this house where my family is from, and partly because I can mark my life by Dave Gunning albums just like by this place. I can remember the week or two or more that I’ve spent out here every year, staring at the ocean or at the starry country sky and imagining throwing into it all the problems I had at age 9 or 12 or 18 or 24. I was 13 when I got into Dave Gunning and listened to the three albums he had out by then, and I can remember the first time I listened to every album he’s put out since.

This is my first time being here after my grandparents moved into a care home; my parents don’t know what they’re going to do with the house. My mother and I went through a bunch of files in her father’s office today. We found my grandfather’s birth certificate, which was really interesting. Lists his father’s occupation and place of birth and place of residence, and barely mentions his mother, because I guess that’s what happened in 1933. Also, the father’s place of birth was wrong. It said his father was born in England, when he was definitely born and raised in Wales. I checked with my mother, and she was quite sure that he wasn’t born in an English hospital or something - he was born in the same house where he grew up. I was reminded of how, if and when I ever manage to do my trip to the UK, I’m going to see all the cool places that I have a proper reason to want to see, and also do a detour through the town where my great-grandfather grew up, even though I know I’ll get there and say, “This is just a town, there’s nothing interesting here. It’s not like there’s a sign pointing to the house where he was born that then got called part of ‘England’ on his son’s birth certificate a couple of decades later.”

Anyway, do you want to see my favourite Dave Gunning songs? That might be slightly more interesting to people than the list of albums, because if anyone is interested in knowing how East Coast Canadian folk music sounds, they can click on these and actually hear it.

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[d-nora]

1 day 14 hours and 30 minutes left to go. I am trying to get myself excited by counting down the time I have left as many hits that I have gotten lately when it comes to my birth family I don’t want to let that affect my view and mood coming back home. Ill make the most of it and always always give them the chance and I need to let go of the bullshit. I will never forget and always fight to get my answers but i meed to allow myself that bonding time with everyone despite all the hard times but speaking of hard times today I received a new job offer that will change my life. I have felt like a proud person when it comes to my own self. No one in my life would have seen me accomplish the things that I did. No one has believed in me! I remember at 16 years old my brother was part of a police explorers program and he did a ride along with an officer. My brother came home one day to tell everyone about an incident where they did a traffic stop where they seized drugs from a man and a very young woman. These drugs belonged to the man. The woman was innocent yet still charged because she was with the man so it made her just as guilty my brother felt so bad for her and he told the family this story because for some reason he said he thought of me. It worried him that I would go down that same path. A huge slap in the face to be told that they see that time of thing for me in my future from a girl who had never drank and did drugs in my life yet he saw me as he saw that girl. Its no secret the family that cared for me most of my life is bo family and all. It is so much disgust and anger when it comes to them. Till this day I never was or will ever become that person. I worked my ass off to defy the odds by becoming this strong devoted mother and wife. I have been loyal and loving to my husband for almost 11 years now. My relationship hasnt been perfect but I did things people in my own family couldnt do and thats maintain a loyal loving relationship. I may have not completed college and get a degree like everyone else but my path was different. First I took a back seat and supported my husband in every way I could for him to succeed and get his degree while I worked on my doula certification. He graduated and i got certified he grew immensely while i took my time to develop the start of my buisness then opportunity came knocking for me as I officially got hired on to a doula company making money that I never thought was possible. I was patient. I never gave up and now I received a blessing that I never dreamed of would be possible. Years ago I was a single mom living on the streets with my child. Their have been countless times where I can say I am lucky to be alive die to situations I have been in and now I am here. I never gave up and I am here. It took along time for me to believe in this but it’s true. Their is always HOPE

[nameless-shadow]

Well if nothing else the evidence of narcissistic ideation is well pronounced for those of you who were curious about the issue and it might be compelling to some of you at least to know that the paralyzed guy in the wheelchair was responsible for lying to my wife to get her to break up with me and I know this without any doubt whatsoever despite not being privy to the conversation see when I showed up out of the blue and we started hanging out and then I wound up homeless I kept analyzing the discrepancies in the things that were said and what happened and without ever really even hearing anything about it he immediately tried to shut me down why do you keep talking about don't talk about it and I can appreciate people feeling like you're a broken record but he hadn't heard any of it and he was so desperate to change the subject that he escalated the interest in not allowing it out of topic to become a huge point of contention where he would start a fight or demand I leave if I spoke on this subject and it made no sense until you run it through the narcissist translator because it is exactly the same thing that Emma had done when she asked me to leave

See narcissists are hesitant to allow discussion on a subject on which one of their schemes has been built because if it's working properly they don't want anybody touching it messing with it making any adjustments so the fact that I was discussing some of the nuances between us her and I was a red flag and he insisted over and over again that I must still be in love with her cuz I won't stop talking about her which I found to be incredibly obtuse because I kept telling him no I'm not in love with her and he kept saying yeah you are which ultimately was just a ploy to provoke anger so that the conversation once again wouldn't be focused on what happened to break us up that's why he was so obsessed with ensuring the topic never came up which only begs the question exactly how long had he been associated with the people in my life which is a relevant question concerning the circumstance because one of the people that have been mentioned was engaged in a criminal conspiracy of fraud to steal some old dudes house from him

And somehow all the people involved in my travels within that subculture all have a measure of connection to them Darnell knew who o was oh knew who Linda was who stole her boyfriend's house Darnell knows Corey and Julia and Fred and Rob and they're all talking that gay as fuck devil worship shit when I look at my background investigation it's been flooded with associative names for no reason and they are not actual relatives but in doing that obviously it's going to obfuscate who is actually a relative and who isn't which isn't a big thing but you got to ask yourself why would someone do that what value is there to it and then Corey was running his mouth about chopping people up and melting their bodies I think that was prior to the game beginning but unfortunately Fred admitted to starting the game almost the moment I showed up he was ready for me which is once again a bad sign that he was coordinating with somebody maybe my brother maybe Emma I don't know but he began trying to spend The Narrative of the gang stalkers almost immediately and the more I disregarded it the more upset he became to the point where when he tried to make me watch a video on The Reptilian Invasion and I said it was stupid and I left he was furious and I couldn't figure out why well now I know because having me watch it was part of the story and said he wasn't getting to sell me

Then I got to Mental Health America and they insisted on putting me in San Pedro weather I wanted to go or not and they have no real offices I've ever seen or been to so it could have been a setup to get me to San Pedro because once I was there they stole my personal documents my birth certificate my driver's license all of it out of a locked room and when I asked about the documents they said there was no reason to look at the cameras because the cameras went dark for an hour and I anyways and that's probably when it happened as if they knew

And when my mother died somehow they were prepared for that as well because the inheritance or my share thereof was redirected to me care of the hotel and I never got word of it in fact the only reason I found out about it was because a confirmation letter came that they let slip through saying that the deposit would be placed in the account that they provided but it would take 45 days and I had not presented any account so they were intending to redirect the funds without my knowledge so I left there and when I did I was just endlessly followed over and over and over they had a plant at the motel I was staying in indicating she was homeless and needed help and I offered her the room for the night on the condition that there would be no getting to know each other because I didn't want to put my character on the line in that way I offered her a room not a date and I wasn't going to be that guy and shortly thereafter someone knocked on the door and she asked aren't you going to get it and I said no one knows I'm here why would I answer the door and I told her you can but if someone walks through the door I don't think you're going to like what happens next and so she didn't but those things just kept repeating and escalating repeating an escalating and the suggestion that it's all been in the effort to get me in this circumstance is asking a lot because outside of the suggestion that it's some kind of therapy or whatever that I'm going through everything that I've experienced has been negative all my shit being robbed over and over again people telling me I'm going to die penny less on the streets people saying they're going to kill me people robbing me I mean doesn't sound like any kind of surprise party I want to go to

In any event based on the thoroughness of the narrative despite the fact that my own sharing with these people is going to be the cause of the problems that occurred I still don't feel a need to live my life afraid of the bad things that other people are willing to do I don't have to be guarded and defensive and hostile and standoffish and closed out of fear I won't because people who are intent on bad behavior going to do it anyways one way or another but I have a terabyte of evidence and for hacked phones that I've removed the SIM from so that the information can't be manipulated it's a half million dollar lawsuit either way really so it would be nice if the people who have claimed to be involved for my benefit step forward and eliminated the big mystery or game of it all but I don't believe that is the case I just think these are people that don't necessarily understand the significance and the consequences of their actions to this degree

[sapphire-wine]

oh wise sapphire, please tell me more about the Clay Phoenix half brothers au.

Oh boy OKAY If you want to open that can of worms again, I think I've touched on most of these points weeks ago but many cursed ideas took priority after it: [Warning: This is VERY long]

Basically it started because I kept making "clay my beloved" posts and "phoenix my beloved" posts and someone called me a simp and I was like "i cant tell if you're talking about clay or phoenix but who is clay if not just a younger and less spikey phoenix" and then i went "wait yea they look v similar..."

So the "Phoenix and Clay are actually related" idea was born. So I've decided as of right now that Phoenix's mom is the Wright and she changed both her and Phoenix's last name to her maiden name after his parents divorced/his father left when he was young. Then a couple years later his dad has Clay and right now I think he's just out of the picture.

Since Apollo and Clay meet when Clay is crying that his mom died, I kind of figured they wouldn't be able to be related through their mom because Phoenix probably would have heard his mom died and then heard she had another son. I don't think it's stated on the wiki where Clay goes after his mom dies and I haven't played AA5 so idk if it's touched on where Apollo and him live. But I'm going to have him live with his aunt who was still fairly young when his mom died so she just kind of lets him do whatever. I think Clay and Apollo met in middle school so they were around 12.

The actual AU starts pretty much a week or two after Bridge to the Turnabout, so before the trial that gets Phoenix disbarred. Clay is 15/16 and looking through his parent's old legal documents and with his parents wedding certificate, his birth certificate etc, Clay finds another wedding certificate and another birth certificate that his dad was married to a Wright and they had a son named Phoenix.

Clay thinks back to all of the times he heard Apollo boast on and on about this defense attorney Phoenix Wright that "cross examined a parrot Clay! I'm going to be a lawyer just like him!" and he's like "APOLLO I HAVE SUCH GOOD NEWS FOR YOU"

So he and Apollo gather up all these documents and march down to Wright & Co law offices and Phoenix opens the door to these two teenagers like "hello?" and Clay is like "Hi I'm Clay Terran we have the same father. This is my best friend Apollo he's not related to you but he's a big fan so he wanted to come."

And Phoenix "I adopt every child I see" is instantly like, MORE FAMILY??? And he goes around and spends that month introducing everyone to his new half brother and his half brothers best friend. Apollo is awestruck because he's read about all of these people and he's admired so many (but not as much as he's admired Phoenix) and Clay has no interest in the legal system whatsoever so he's meeting these people like "sup?" and putting his feet up on Edgeworth's desk, etc. and Apollo is just mortified because "these are really important people Clay! You can't just ask them if they have the authority to make Pluto a planet again! Show some respect!!"

This is a bit where I'm not sure if I'm going to keep canon or if I'm going to diverge it wildly (im thinking of diverging it wildly):

Apollo really wants to see one of Phoenix's trials in person and who is Phoenix to deny any teenage assistant anything so he brings them both to the Gramarye trial. I think once Trucy shows up and is like "hi! Here is some evidence!! Byeeee" both Apollo and Clay (in Among Us fashion because they definitely played it before the super hype) are like "Phoenix that little girl was sus I don't think you should use that evidence" and then Phoenix doesn't use it

Clay goes and is like "hey unaccompanied girl, where are your parents and where did you get that evidence?"

Zak still disappears and Phoenix adopts Trucy still he just still has his job. Clay assumes the uncle role like a duck to water and Apollo (even though he's v skeptical of Trucy at first because "why is she trying to give illegal evidence to Mr Wright there should be a chain of custody for evidence") also comes to enjoy her company because this is his friends new niece.

Phoenix would still find out that Apollo and Trucy are related at the same time as canon. Clay would just also find out and tell them if Phoenix doesn't.

And also because Phoenix doesn't use the evidence and Kristoph still tells Klavier about it, he's kind of like "hey....why did you know about it and he didn't even use it to benefit?" so that would be a whole other thing.

I think Clay would see this kid a little older than him behind the prosecutor's bench and go "he's weird friend shape" so they would end up hanging out. Clay would think it was cool he was in a band ("Will we be getting free tickets?")

ANYWAY, if you made it this far I have a lot of thoughts for this

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 1

I have been brewing on this idea for a couple days now, and I finally got the gumption to write it out. I am super excited to share this with the fandom. This is one of my favorite fandoms and my current hyperfixation. I hope you enjoy this fic. I have no idea how long it's going to be, but it will be a series. I do not plan on following cannon after Endgame, it doesn't fit with the fic, but I'm working on one that is cannon.

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the figurative ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst, and fluff if you squint. If you see any others please let me know!

Word Count: 1,168

Part 2-Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I promise that I’m really alive.”

“I’m sorry, but without more proof we cannot legally prove that you are who you say you are.”

Y/N huffed and slouched in her chair. The lady who was supposed to be helping her shuffled her papers and cleared her throat. “It doesn’t seem very probable either. If you are who you claim you are then you’d be 105 and considering that you don’t look older than 25, I highly doubt that you are the Ms. Y/N L/N.”

“But I am!” Y/N yelped causing the woman in front of her to jump. “I’m sorry Ms.” She peered at the nametag on the woman’s suit jacket. “Clement. I have had a very long day of goose chasing and learning that I need to prove that I am still alive to get my own things. It makes sense, but I feel that it really doesn’t need to be this difficult. Besides, there are two people in the state of New York that are around that exact age.”

Ms. Clement looked around her office, probably wondering why she even bothered to get out of bed today. She then put the papers she had been shuffling into a vanilla folder and tucked it into a pile on her desk. “Those men are Superheroes. They have probable explanations as to why they are that old.”

“And so do I.” Y/N huffed.

Ms. Clement gave a fake smile, “Until you can provide legal documentation that you are who you say you are I’m afraid that I cannot move forward with a Certificate of Life. Please return when you have your documentation. Have a nice day!”

~

Y/N huffed as she walked down the street of New York City. She hadn’t known what to expect when she had arrived from Wakanda, but a legal goose chase wasn’t it. The Social Security Office had told her that she had needed at least three Legal documents that proved that she was who she claimed she was.

All she wanted to do was sit down in a corner and cry, but she had to get a place to stay for the night. She knew from experience how cold the streets got at night.

Y/N hardly recognized New York with all of its lights and noises. She wished for the New York she remembered from the 40’s.

She still knew where to go after all these years apparently because she stopped in front of a building that she knew by heart. The best years of her life were in apartment 9C on the top floor and a great view of the city. The best years until she was drafted into World War II as an army nurse. She shivered as a breeze rushed by her, then an idea struck her.

~~~~~~

The elevator was just about as old as she was which made her a little nervous. A quiet ding announced that she had arrived at the top floor. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when she left and she hoped with everything in her being that the apartment didn’t have new tenants.

‘It shouldn’t’ she thought. An upfront payment had been made to have that apartment belong to her and her-

Her heart stung but she shrugged it off. She could live in the past later.

She didn’t have a key to the apartment, it was inside, in the bowl by the front door. You didn’t need house keys in Europe. She pulled out a hair pin and pen she had taken from the last office she had visited. Unlocking the door was easy, it was from the 30’s after all. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she opened the door and stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Y/N wasn’t prepared for what she saw. The landlord was true to their word, the apartment was still hers. There were still sheets draped over the furniture, dust clung to every uncovered surface, and a musty smell filled the air.

Nostalgia filled her heart, but she had things to do before she let herself feel anything. She walked into the kitchen and opened the farthest cabinet and pulled out a tiny cup that had a tiny key in it. Grabbing the key she went into the guest bedroom and pulled down the lockbox from the shelf in the closet.

Inside was her passport, birth certificate, and her backup draft card. Along with other papers. A sigh of relief escaped from her. She pulled out what she needed and put the box back to where it belonged. Walking back into the main room, she took off her jacket and put it on the coat tree. Her papers in the pocket of her coat. As long as she didn’t make too much noise, she could stay here for the night.

She turned around and was dragged into memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was puttering around the kitchen getting things out to start making dinner. The front door opened, and the love of her life stepped through. With a sigh of relief, he took off his suit jacket and hung it on the tree.

He finally turned to look at her and he smiled, and she returned it. “Welcome home Love. How was your day?”

“It was boring. Paperwork and meetings. The only thing I looked forward to was coming home to see my best girl.”

Y/N blushed, and her lover walked over to the living room, got his pipe from the mantle and sat down in his worn leather chair.

About 30 minutes later Y/N called across the room. “Dinner’s ready”

He got up from his chair and they both sat down to eat and after both were done and everything was cleaned up, he retuned to his chair. This time though, she was curled up in his lap.

“We should do something fun this weekend Doll. Like a trip to the zoo or something.”

“I would love that.”

He leaned down a little to whisper in her ear, “I love you Y/N”

“I love you too James” she whispered back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N came to again, it was almost dark out. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked over to a chair covered in a sheet. With a simple motion she pulled the sheet from the chair and revealed a worn leather wingback chair. She didn’t bother to undrape the rest of the furniture; in fact she was very careful to make everything look undisturbed.

As much as she wanted to go to her old bedroom, she couldn’t. Even coming back to this place had emotionally drained her.

What she did do instead, was look at the pictures hanging on the wall and through the dirt and grime covering the glass, she could make out two people standing as close together as they could get. She was dressed to the nines and so was he. At the bottom of the picture written in loopy cursive was

James “Bucky” Barnes and his fiancé Y/N L/N

Part 2

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Some references to explicitness towards the end

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 16/16 (all chapters)

You were proud of your home.

You had painted the walls yourself, built cupboards and shelves and painted those too. You’d crocheted your own throw blanket and stuffed every single cushion you owned.

You had made room in one corner for a moses basket and built a wine rack for when you had adult guests over.

It was warm and cosy and you often found yourself dozing off on the couch.

Today, in fact, was such an occasion. You opened your eyes to soft light, snuggled up in the same position as when you returned from work. You had taken off your coat and shoes and set aside your purse, meaning to take a couple of minutes before getting up to make dinner.

Clearly, that had not gone according to plan. You sat up with a wince and rubbed the spots of your back that had grown stiff. How long had you been asleep?

You moved to get up from the chair but that was easier said than done. You were, after all, extremely pregnant and even if your center of gravity wasn’t completely displaced, navigating your swollen belly was getting increasingly difficult.

This was your last week at work before you left for maternity leave and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad. Your nesting instincts had hit you hard within the past month or so and you’d reshuffled the furniture more times than you could count.

Nezu had been more than accommodating when he brought staff members into the dorms on site. Your dormitories were more like apartment complexes than the shared halls the students lived in. Your apartment was built to very specific requirements, namely that it was sound proofed and made from two apartments merged into one larger one, with doors connecting them together. There was enough room for Hizashi to do his radio show, for a home office, a bedroom for Eri and, more recently, a nursery.

Eri had a room to the left of yours, specifically chosen for easy access when she had nightmares and needed reassurance. You chose the room on the right of yours for the baby. Eri had offered to share her room, though you got the feeling she didn’t understand much about babies in general, let alone night time feeds and diaper changes.

You could hear three sets of voices coming from the nursery and you waddled towards it, clasping one hand over your belly and the other on your hip for balance.

Hizashi, Shouta and Eri were in the middle of building a crib, Hizashi leaning over the half finished frame, Shouta holding out tools and Eri sitting cross legged in the nursing chair, squinting at an upside down set of instructions.

“Are you sure that’s the right screw?”

“Positive.”

“It’s just that...I need five of them. How many do you have there?”

“One.”

Hizashi was a lot better at DIY projects than Shouta, thanks in part to how much of his time he spent building sound rigs and fixing his equipment. You could have lingered in the doorway forever, just watching them, though your back and ankles were already beginning to protest.

“Having fun?”

Eri gasped in happiness at the sight of you standing there, launching herself out of the nursing chair and reaching for your hand.

“We’re building the baby’s bed,” she said, hopping on the spot as you lowered yourself into the chair. “They’re following my instructions!”

“So I see,” you said. “Looks like you’re being very helpful!”

“We couldn’t do it without ya, Eri,” said Hizashi, before turning back to Shouta. “How many do you have now?”

“ One .”

“That can’t be right.”

Hizashi sat up and shuffled across to Shouta, counting out the screws and other materials.

“One,” he said, turning the screw over in his hand. “Why would they only give us one ?"

“Probably so we’d have to go back and spend more money,” said Shouta.

You sat back in your chair and rubbed your hand over your belly, glancing round at the near complete nursery. Everyone had contributed something; all four of you (and several others) had made your mark on this room.

Hizashi had assembled just about everything, from the changing station to the bookcase to the nursing chair you were currently sitting in. The very same day you told him you were pregnant, he came home with an armful of toys, almost all of which were sound related and certainly far too advanced for a newborn, though he refused to hear it. He’d also bought a music player and specialised headphones so that he could play music or voice recordings through your belly. It had become his favourite thing to do ever since your bump got noticeable, mostly because it almost never failed to make the baby kick.

Eri (under supervision, of course) had painted rainbows, clouds and kitties on the walls, as well as a picture of her and the baby enjoying a basket of apples. She didn’t know much about babies, much less what this one would look like, so her painting looked a little like a potato. She’d been something of a bad influence on Shouta, too, who couldn’t refuse her at the best of times, much less when she was pointing out cute onesies.

Shouta supplied almost all of the stuffed animals in the room, as well as the mobile you planned to hang above the cot. You hadn’t realised just how many baby toys, clothes and equipment were cat themed until Shouta bought almost all of them.

Nemuri’s gift lurked in the corner; an enormous teddy bear with glass eyes and a tartan scarf. It was almost as tall as you were and possibly the most hideous thing you had ever seen, but she and Hizashi had both smiled so widely when she brought it over that you had had little choice but to put it next to the bookshelf.

Your colleagues at UA (with the exception of Shouta and Hizashi for obvious reasons) had gifted you a storybook, with buttons at the side. They had recorded themselves speaking the lines and sometimes, when you wanted a giggle, you pulled it off the shelf and pressed the buttons yourself.

You had overseen everything without picking up quite as many individual items, though in your defense you were contributing the baby.

“That reminds me,” you said aloud without meaning to, “just a second…”

You had done something a little special, something you had been working on for weeks and couldn’t wait to hand over.

You climbed up out of the chair and waddled into the bedroom, coming back with a box you’d gone so far as to wrap with a ribbon.

“What is it, doll?”

“I got the test results back a few weeks ago,” you said with a grin, holding the box out towards them. “I was wondering how to tell you...so I made this.”

Due to your somewhat unique circumstances, you had gone through much of your pregnancy without knowing the identity of the father. You knew it was either Shouta or Hizashi, but couldn’t put that on the birth certificate.

You’d sent samples of your blood and Hizashi and Shouta’s saliva to be tested, though as far as they knew, that was where the story ended.

Both of them eyed the box in your arms, knowing that whatever was inside it would change the course of your futures. One of them was about to become a father, biologically speaking.

Eri didn’t fully understand the situation, but she did understand the concept of presents.

“Can I see?” she cried out.

“Sure, sweetie, why don’t you open it?”

You handed the box to Eri and sat back down in your nursing chair, watching in anticipation as she unfastened the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Maybe it was the hormones, but you’d been thinking about Ego a lot lately. You remembered glasses shattering against the floor, remembered your heart shattering into just as many pieces.

“It’s a onesie,” Eri cried out, dragging the black fabric out of the box.

“Sure is, honeybun,” said Hizashi. “What else is in there?”

It had been years since that night at the bar that changed everything and up until then you hadn’t been the biggest believer in destiny.

“Look,” said Eri, dragging out a small, grey strip of fabric, “it’s a scarf! Oooh, and there’s goggles!”

“That’s right! It’s a hero costume.”

You remembered how long you had shivered inside of a toilet stall, scrubbing away a stranger’s cum. You’d panicked, the reality of what you had done sinking in. You had never been so happy as when you got your next period; you didn’t even complain about the breakout and hellish cramps that came along with it.

You planted a hand on your belly, unable to stroke your son’s hair and so settling for his general vicinity.

Needless to say, you were a believer now.

[opossumanonymous]

How did he get in this mess?

Warnings: Inko literally uses her quirk to pull out AFOs pubic hair because I don't think anything else would immobilize him temporarily, talk of inko using her quirk to pull organs, guns mentioned

I wrote this on my phone so sorry if anything looks funky for computer users. If I made any mistakes or any characters are too ooc please tell me. Also this is a fanfic featuring AFO as Midoriya Hizashi and Inko as a ex-Black Widow and mostly features them please enjoy!~

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

How did he get in this mess, face kissing the floor and completely caught off guard?

Hizashi wasn't quite sure himself actually. One minute he was doing some 'work' before he heard the voice of his wife over his shoulder.

"Hizashi, what are you doing?"

Then he was on the floor a nearly blinding pain spread over his body leaving him in fetal position unable to think of nothing else.

Once his mind got clear again he turned his head to the side looking up at the woman who he thought was his wife. Her usually gentle smile was gone leaving a cold look on her face as she read through his files. One of her hands out stretched towards him while the other clicked through the computer.

Which made him briefly realize he may have to put plan B into action but before that he had to know if this was his wife or someone else. Last thing he wanted was to do something reckless if this wasn't his wife.

"Who-" Before Hizashi could utter a word he felt another painful pull causing him to ball up even further trying to somehow ease the pain. He choked on air as Inko? Stared at him with a blank expression now turned away from the computer. She crossed her legs as she watched him wither in pain looking at with him cold emotionless green eyes.

Who was this woman she can't be Inko! It gave him brief fear realizing that a shape-shifting spy might have tricked him somehow. After all theres no way his sweet wife could ambush him, let alone be capable of hurting him this badly! But if this is someone with a shape-shifting quirk there's no way they would also have wife's quirk as well. Unless they can copy the quirks of people they shape-shift into but then-

"So was this what you were doing while I was comforting our son?"

His eyes widened at that realization, it hit Hizashi hard as he broke out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Inko who still had that chilling look on her face making Hizashi for the first time in 200 years feel...afraid.

He didn't know whether to be impressed at her or disgusted in himself, him, All for One, the symbol of evil, the villain who has brought many heros and villains alike to their knees is...afraid? It sounds unreal just thinking about it that someone could still scare him.

Not by much but still it was a feat that no one before her had done in a long time.

He felt like he was getting whiplash knowing that the same woman who cooked him breakfast nearly every morning, who cried at anything sad or happy, and cuddled up to him at night was looming over him like some villain.

"Hizashi speak up your mumbling." She spoke harshly as he felt another pull, he's starting to lose feeling in his legs.

"I already knew." He said breathless feeling defeated almost, yet another feat none before her had accomplished. He could almost hear his brother laughing from his grave at this point. "What?" Her forehead wrinkled the cold look leaving her face for a moment making her look more like the Inko he knew.

"I checked Izuku years ago, I had my suspicions when he didn't develop his quirk after he turned 5. While I can't tell what a quirk is if I don't know it, I can sense them." He told her truthfully "When I reached into his subconscious one night after I tucked him in bed, I found no sign of a quirk." He knew their was a chance Izuku would be quirkless anyway, Hizashi was from the first generation of quirk users after all.

But he would never give his son a quirk, no he's not going to let history repeat itself, if there's anything he's learned in his 200 years of life it's never give your hero loving relatives a quirk.

Plus being a hero is 10 times more dangerous now, no thanks to him, he'd rather his precious son live quirkless.

Despite the ridicule quirkless people get from society atleast he won't ever get badly hurt or worse killed. Luckily Hizashi had a back up plan just in case he needed to protect his family from themselves.

But seeing Inko looming above him is starting to make him think about adding more reinforcements to the vault. After all she's not so much of a gullible woman like he once thought she was.

"I see but that doesn't change anything, you weren't there for our baby when he needed you most. That's why after this you're going to march into our sons room and comfort him like a good father should." He almost winched at her harsh tone. He honestly didn't know if he should be scared or not. He did still have an arsenal of quirks he could use but none that were non lethal from a long range he could use on her.

"And if I don't, what will you do?" He was curious in all honesty after all it's not every day your usually gentle and emotional wife does a 360 degree personality change on you.

"Then I'll keep ripping out your pubic hairs till you comply." He felt a slight tug again at the slight flick of her wrist causing him to flinch.

He had felt tempted to challenge her, now realizing it was a mistake seeing as she has him by the balls...literally.

"And if you try anything...well you'll be surprised at how many organs count as a small objects." She said with a chilling smile which he almost hates to admit made him flinch.

He always knew her quirk was suspicious despite only being limited to small objects it could still be a deadly quirk if used right. The number of deadly weapons considered small objects was big and considering she only needs a vague idea of where an object is located to pull it to her which includes organs...Hizashi's starting to realize he didn't really know his wife like he thought he did.

After all who would've guessed his sweet Inko would use her quirk so...creatively. He nodded, head still pressed to the hard wood floor of his office.

Inko gave a sigh of relief as she genuinely smiled running her hand through her green locks. "Good I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Hizashi felt the release of her quirk as she sat back legs still crossed.

He slowly sat on all fours before rising to his knees still feeling phantom pains with each slight movement.

Once he was on his knees he wrapped his arms around her waist laying his head in her stomach. She gently caressed his head of white curls causing him to sink further into her and let out a content hum. After a while he looked up at her, the cold look on her face gone now taking a more softer expression.

"I knew you where a villain since the first week after we got married." Hizashi didn't think Inko could shock him anymore but that honestly got him, and yet again she conquered another feat.

He would have never guessed that she knew about him being a villain before now. "Honestly I felt like I got rusty since I found out so late, but I guess living a normal civilian life will make anyone like that." She smiled gently at him looking more like the Inko he knew. Or atleast thought he knew, she was one of the most ordinary people he met from her average nursing job to her adorable naiveté at times.(which he now knows was probably just an act) She played him like a fiddle, he underestimated her and made him fall even harder for her.

That's right, he didn't think it was possible to love her even more than he already did, but this moment proved that wrong.

"Wait then if you knew why did you stay and why wait until now to bring it up?"

She furrowed her eyebrows again before turning her head away from him thinking about her answer for a second before looking back. "I'm not exactly who I said I was either..." She trailed off with a far away look in her eyes almost like she was looking through him and not at him.

He took her hand which had stopped rubbing his head and brought it to his cheek. This seemed to help her focus again as she gave him a tired smile.

"I'm not a good person either Hizashi I've done alot of things that I now regret." For a moment he guessed that she was an ex-villain that he'd just never heard of.

Although that was very unlikely seeing as he liked to keep tabs on most high profile villains to find anyone with good...potential. Inko definitely wasn't a low class villain she just didn't fit the profile of a bank robber or common street thug. Her aura gave off a more experienced air to it not to mention no low class villain would have the guts to look him in the eye once finding out who he really is.

"I was once apart of an organization who specialized in training those considered...unless in society." The way she said useless held a malice to it despite her still having a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"They kidnapped me and many other young girls most of them either being quirkless or having 'weak' quirks." Quirkless trafficking while rare nowadays still went on but he'd never heard of an organization making quirkless people assassins. Wlep there's a first time for everything he guessed.

"They trained and raised all of us to be assassins, to put it simply, they chose us because they knew we'd be underestimated."

Assassins? If someone had told him is lovely wife was secretly an assassin he'd laugh in their face before killing them for saying such a thing. But now after being brought to his knees by her he honestly isn't surprised, at this point he'd believe anything that came out of her mouth. She could tell him she could kill someone with only a plastic spoon and he'd believe her.

"I was one of the lucky ones i was able to escape before my 'graduation' if you could call it that. I was even able to find my birth certificate after months of digging through missing persons reports." She now went back to stroking his white curls as she spoke.

"After escaping I decided to live the life my mother wanted me to or at least I like to think she'd want me to." He knew she was an orphan, she'd told him that on their second date he never thought much about it.

He never even really looked into her mother much either only knowing that she died when Inko was young and that she was Nana Shimura's sister. When he found this out at first he was suspicious but over time he let his guard down, if that was a mistake is still up for debate.

"They called us Black Widows." He'd heard that name before but it's been so long, last time he heard the words Black Widow he was reading a comic book to his sick brother. It's either unoriginal or genius considering most will only think of the comic book hero Black Widow opposed to it being a real organization.

Finally getting the feeling back in his legs he stood up stretching slightly while she watched him. He stared down at her now that he had the high ground it was time to give her what she deserved.

He leaned down towards her his hands coming up to her face menacingly. But she just sat there unfazed with a serene look on her face, their was no real use in trying she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He held her face as he leaned in and gave her lips a gentle kiss.

After pulling away he took her hand and helped her out of his office chair. "Now time to go see about Izuku hopefully I can get him out of his depressed mood."

Giving her a true smile only reserved for his family he lead her out of his office not before shutting down his computer and locking the door.

"Yes please talk to him because I didn't know what to do than to apologize to him." She sighed clearly distressed. "While it has been a long time since I escaped somethings I still just don't know the right words for." She looked defeated like she didn't just have Japan's greatest villain nearly kissing her feet.

"It's fine darling soon Izuku will go back to being that happy kid again, you'll see." He gave her a final kiss before heading to Izukus room ready to help his son or else face the wraith of his wife.

He briefly wondered just how good of an assassin his wife is and just how many she's killed. But quickly shook those thoughts away as he entered his son's All Might themed room.

While he'd never ask her anything more about her past as a Black Widow he soon came to realize she was highly skilled as he watched his son on TV.

He was watching UAs sports festival with Tomura at his current hideout the boy exclaiming in shock at this year's winner.

The one to take first place was UAs first quirkless student Midoriya Izuku who took out the competition with only a pair of electroshock bracelets as wepons.

Not to say that it was only the support tools that secured his win, the way he bended dodging attacks and hit his opponents with devastating blows to the head made him nearly laugh out loud.

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same kind boy he once tucked in bed but he had to admit his son was quite reckless.

He's in all honesty proud of his son especially for beating Mizuki's brat whose bullied his poor son for years. While he isnt happy that his son's well on his way to being a hero atleast Inko trained him well.

Just how did Hizashi get in this mess he'd hoped quirklessness would make his son reconsider being a hero but it seems Inko had other plans.

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

Extras:

So originally Inko was gonna hold him at gun point but I felt like AFO wouldn't be sacred of a gun so....

Also Inko has wepons (mostly guns) hidden in every wall in the apartment after all you never know when the red room might strike.

Inko still gets chubby but not from stress over Izuku being quirkless it's more so over the red room possibly finding him and taking him. She's still bad ass tho, can kill anyone with a just plastic spoon.

She also ran away from the red room before they could sterilize her.

Izuku does eventually get One for all but it's after the sports festival instead, tho he does still parade as a quirkless hero even after One for all.

He also is a vigilante on the side under the name Black Widow tho most think he's a girl because of the Black Widow reference. He even wears his mom's old Black Widow suit.

You could say he's hero Deku by day and vigilante Black Widow by night!

AFO totally knows it's him tho because he knows Inko wouldn't be that reckless or feral.

Izuku has no idea his loving father is AFO but knows his mom's an ex-assassin.

[sabraeal]

Not Necessarily a Virtue

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Practical Magic AU

There hadn’t been a plan when Obi picked up the phone.

All it had taken was one rogue text-- another case assigned to his social worker, one that was enough of an emergency that it his behavioral issues seem tame in comparison. Her chair rattles when she stans, its plastic back hitting the filing cabinets with a metallic tang, but her hands tremble more.

“This will be just a minute,” she says, smile plastered tight to her face. And then she leaves him there alone, his file open on her desk, flaws left out for the world to see.

It doesn’t bothered him. There’s no point, not when he already knows: he’s trouble with a capital-T, each failed family drawing him closer and closer to being unplaceable. Some people have a face only a mother could love, but Obi-- Obi has that for his personality. Though considering how each of his six almost-moms signed him away with a sigh of relief, walking out the plate glass doors without even a glance back, maybe he has the sort of personality that makes people reconsider whether they could be a mother.

So here he is again, freshly abandoned, back in the sterile halls of social services for the seventh time without a place to call home. He’s not even twelve.

Not that these people aren’t trying to change that-- he’s not some cat left at the shelter, free to a good home. Unless Kerry or Janine or the girl at the desk he didn’t get to read the name tag of wanted to sleep on their couch, they have to find someone to take him for the night. And he knows from experience, there’s always a family that believes they can change him. A young couple who thought all problem children needed was just a little extra love. By the time Kerry came back, there’d be good news waiting, a miracle crafted by three people who didn’t want to miss the Masked Singer finale. They’d pack him into the back of a car and ship him off to a new place to fail. Because no matter how many homes they tried to make for him, it’d never change how he felt.

Obi had tried, at first. He was just a little kid, wanting to be loved, but every home he went to itched like hives in his head, a constant buzz that set his teeth on edge and made him do anything, try anything to leave. He belonged somewhere else, somewhere not here, and he knew it like he knew Kerry’s other case had overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills in his foster mother’s cabinet-- with an inexplicable certainty.

He waits thirty seconds after she leaves before he slides off the the plastic seat she’d put him in. They love these things, oddly shaped and in primary colors that make the little kids giddy, but Obi hates them. He’s undersized, and putting him in these kiddie rooms always makes people treat him like he’s eight instead of eleven, asking him about Blue’s Clues.

But that’s not why he gets up, not entirely. There’s a buzzing in the back of his brain, a knowing, and it makes him stand, his hand straying to the glass door. He can’t see anything outside, at least not anything besides more kiddie chairs and offices, but he steps out nonetheless. He steps out and, unerringly, turns to face the girl waiting for him down the hall.

“It’s you.” Her tawny hair stresses the elastic she’s trapped it in, too thick. It’s not one of those hair ones either, but one of those thick rubber bands they use on the produce in grocery store. It hurts; he knows because it’s common sense, but also because he just...Knows. Their eyes meet, and even though he doesn’t her name, they’ve known each other forever.

His mouth is dry when he asks, “Do you know me?”

“I saw you in a dream.” She takes a step toward him, her sneakers scuffed and worn, just like his. “You’re Obi. I’m Torou.”

He doesn’t know this girl. There’s a hundred ways she could get his name; one of them is sitting on a desk behind him right now. But when she looks up at him with eyes he’s only ever seen in the mirror, he holds out his hand. “Come here.”

His heart pounds with each mincing squeak of her sneakers on the tile. She’s taking too long and she’s coming too fast; each terrible second convinces him he’s making a mistake at the same time he’s doing what he was always meant to do. By the time she slips her hand into his, he’s trembling, but it doesn’t matter because they both are and this--

This is right. And he knows exactly what to do.

It’s holding her hand that he picks up the phone. He fucks it up the first time-- he gets that gross digital buzz before he notices the sticker beneath the speaker, informing him 9 dials out-- but the second one his fingers guide him, releasing the number he has no reason to know. A number he has no reason to believe will work, that could have just come from the weird recesses of his mind but--

But he’s not surprised when a man picks up. “Who is this? Do you know what time--?”

“We’re here,” Obi says, and it shouldn’t be enough, but it is. “Come pick us up.”

A specter arrives on the front walk at noon.

Obi knows by the hush in the office. Or really the weight of it-- it’s been quiet like this since last night, since he and Torou sat down on the big bean bag couch in the waiting room, and Obi announced they wouldn’t be letting go. His case worker had crouched in front of them, that sweet smile plastered to her lips, and told him that they’d only have to be separated for a night. But he’d known-- the way he always did-- that every word was a lie. His fingers tightened in her grip, narrowing his eyes until the woman shivered, and that was that.

Kerry stayed with them, of course; she’d slept in her office, under a blanket it’s clear she’s never used and had only just discovered wasn’t comfortable no matter how many Sesame Street characters were on it. They’d been tucked under another by a younger girl with trembling hands, her eyes darting between them as she smoothed out its edges. He’d heard them through the walls this morning while the rest of the office filtered in-- government buildings like this were always cutting corners, leaving things like this paper thin, stuff that would go up like tissue in a fire.

Do you think they’re twins? one asked. Trembling hands, he guesses, since her voice does as well, like a chihuahua in a sweater. I’ve heard about this happening with twins. They look and just know.

Can’t be, we have their birth certificates, says another. Kerry, probably; she might be a liar, but she’s one of the only people in this place that has her head screwed on right, too. Two different sets of parents.

And the man they called last night? This one is stern; their manager maybe. He’s not really sure how this all works; he’s not even twelve, and he can only just know so much. Who is he?

There’s a heavy pause. I...I don’t know.

So when he arrives, dressed like an undertaker and holding an umbrella beneath the bright New Mexico sky, the whole place goes quiet. When he walks it’s stiff, like it took a hundred volts to get him up off the table and he’s only just gotten used to the idea. Obi casts a look down at Torou, at where her hand is white knuckled in his, and thinks about how he knows things, and wonders just what she might be able to do.

The man enters, umbrella folding in a single neat motion, before he says. “I am Lata Forenzo. I believe you have my...niblings.”

Niblings, Obi learns, is like siblings, only sideways.

“It was a simplification,” Lata says, his voice a deep, hesitant gravel. He casts a speculative look at the taxi driver, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Niece and nephew is an unwieldy phrase, and time, after all, is of the essence.”

“Is it?” Torou’s eyes are wide, and for the first time since last night, her hand leaves his, gripping on to the cloth at Lata’s knee. “Is there something after us? Those bugs, they’re not--”

“No.” Obi’s known his uncle for barely more than a half hour, but he knows he isn’t a tactile person. Even still, Lata looks down at Torou, his not-gold eyes somehow softer, and puts two fingers over the bones at the back of her hand. “But it is time to bring you home.”

Home is an island. It takes the whole night to fly in, and when they land the sun is just barely scratching the sky. Even still, there’s no stopping; Lata bundles them straight into a cab, shushing them before they can make much more than a peep.

“We’ll be home soon,” he says, and the next time he wakes them, salt stings Obi’s nose, and he’s being carried over a threshold.

“Are we here?” he slurs. The house is weird-- angular, really, with a hall so narrow he could kick out a leg and stop them up like a cork. He nearly does, just to be cussed, but he catches Torou still wrapped up in her blanket, lolling on the couch, and says instead, “Can you let me down?”

Lata hesitates, fingers stiff where they wrap around his knees and shoulders, but he nods.

Obi’s feet-- just wearing socks now, somehow-- press on the floor, and he knows: he’s home.

“Oh,” he breathes, hands flying out to steady himself. “Oh.”

When he looks up, Torou’s eyes meet his, round and wide. “I felt that.”

Her own feet swing down-- bare-- and the moment she touches the wide old planks--

“Oh.” Lata braces himself against the wall, the sound bitter on his lips. “So it’s true. There will always be two.”

They aren’t his words, Obi knows, but they’re important. They’ve got that feel, the same as when Torou said she dreamed of him. The sort that are going to be life-changing, one way or another.

But Obi’s had enough of that today. Enough of it for a lifetime. He glances over at Torou, and she nods. “Can we go outside?”

Lata blinks, eyes pulling from the wallpaper to fix on him. After a long moment, he says, “You know where the door is.”

Obi does, somehow, and when he opens it--

It’s paradise.

Home has rules too, loads of them. It’s quiet time from nine to eight, though Lata doesn’t much care if they’re sleeping, so long as they’re in bed. Teeth have to be brushed twice a day-- he’d glowered when Obi said he had good teeth and only needed the once, standing over him for a week morning and night to see the rule stuck. There’s only one dessert after dinner; Obi balked at that one, until he’d learned that a limit on quantity wasn’t the same thing as size. He and Torou find three old sundae dishes in the cabinet and pile them high with ice cream and every topping they can find, and when they slap Lata’s down in front of him, cheeks bulging with their own towers of sweets, all he’d does is give them that small, reluctant twitch of a smile and dig in.

They have to make their beds and pick up after themselves-- this house has treated us well, Lata tells them, it’s only right we take care of it in return-- and they have to tell him if they plan to play in the yard; but in return their sheets are always clean, and dinner’s promptly at six. When they come back in, sweaty and exhausted from the summer heat, there’s always a bowl of fruit waiting for them and cold drinks.

He’d known, in the way he always does, that this couldn’t last. So when summer’s heat began to cool, he’s not surprised to see Lata waiting on for them on the veranda, mouth pulled into an even grimmer line.

“It��s time,” he says, “for a Family Meeting.”

“School,” Lata says with the sort of relish and derision only a professor like him can summon up, “is starting. Which means there are new rules.”

Fingers brush at Obi’s, and when he reaches out, Torou’s fingers knit in his. He knows what rules these will be-- his parents had them to, the only ones they’d ever made. His mother had gotten down on her knees the night before kindergarten, nails digging into his shoulders, and used a voice so dark, so unlike her, he’d dreamed of button eyes staring into his for a week. His father had tossed out their Coraline DVD after that.

“Forenzos,” Lata starts, already sounding weary, “look after each other. So you’ll walk together, both ways, and if one of you gets into trouble--” he fixes them both with a stern look-- “I expect both of you to run.”

Obi stares. “What?”

“You’ll come back right after school, unless we have previously discussed plans,” Lata continues. “You’re far too young for...cellular phones, so I expect that if you make plans with friends, you will discuss them with me the night previous, or you will come home first and ask permission. Not,” he murmurs, just barely audible, “that I expect you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“Is that...” Obi’s jaw works. “Is that all?”

“I expect you to keep up your grades.” Lata’s brow furrows, taking them in, as if he’d never once questioned whether or not they would be stellar students. As if most people don’t look at the both of them and see future high school flunk outs. “If they are slipping, I’m afraid I’ll have to limit your free time until we are able to bring them back to an acceptable level. Homework is to be done at the table, and once you are done, your time is yours until dinner.”

Torou’s hand squeezes his. “We?”

Lata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘we.’“ She clear her throat, eyelashes fluttering with nerves. “If our grades are bad, you said we would, uh, fix them.”

“Of course.” His mouth pulls at the corners, annoyed. “How could I possibly ask you to rectify such a thing on your own? You’re already doing the best you can, if you still struggle, then it’s clearly something we both-- oh my,” he murmurs mildly, “she’s leaking.”

“Sorry,” she sobs, pink burning on her cheeks, the way it never did on his. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Lata flails out, yanking a tissue from the box, shoving it into her hand. “I just...hope that you find this all fair. I was always quite good at school, but my sisters--” he glances at them, wary-- “varied. I hope I can only...encourage you to your best.”

“But what about...” Obi snaps his teeth around the words. If he doesn’t ask, then it won’t become a rule, and his uncle can’t be disappointed when he breaks it.

The pictures on the wall prove that they’re family, that Lata truly is his mom’s brother, even if they don’t share much more than a hair color. But Obi’s never seen it, the way he does in pictures of Torou’s mom, where there’s a flick of the hand or a cock of a hip that says they spent their childhood together, inextricably intertwined forever in ways they would never understand.

But Lata raises a brow now, and he sees it, that small thread that ties him to his mom, that says brother. “About...?”

“The other stuff,” Torou blurts out, coughing down a sniff. “He wants to know what we...”

Her words peter out too, like she can’t figure out what to do with them. He can’t stop knowing, and she can’t stop dreaming, and the thought of having to pretend they can is...tiring this time, in a way it never was in the system.

His mouth wraps around the words with a curious sort of wonder. “Other stuff?” 

“You know,” she mutters, so small. “The weird stuff.”

Lata jolts in his chair, spine as straight as a poker. His hands press flat against his knees, and when he looks at them, the gray in his eyes in thunderous.

“This is the most important rule,” he tells them, voice oddly resonant, “you must follow it. Promise me.”

Obi’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he nods, fingers squeezing Torou’s tighter.

Lata’s hand presses heavy on his shoulder, leather flexing over cotton. “Don’t ever hide yourselves. Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Obi dares to look up, and Lata’s gaze is waiting to catch him. “Being...normal is not necessarily a virtue. There is no shame in being who you are, none at all.”

Or what you are, he doesn’t say, but his eyes do, loud and clear. He doesn’t say what that is either, but--

Obi knows. Just like he always does.

And if he didn’t, well-- he would have found out soon enough.

It’s a small island; small enough that K-12 are all squeezed into one school, though Lata tells them that by the time they go to senior high, they might have built another. It’s still not small enough for Torou and him to be in the same class, so he drops her off at the door with promises to find her at lunch and moseys down to his own. It puts him a little behind schedule, the school bell ringing on his heels, and when he steps in--

The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stare at him, round and wide, not a single person daring to do much more than breathe.

“Forenzo,” the teacher says, faint. “You must be...the Forenzo boy.”

“Yeah.” He grips at his shoulder. “Obi.”

“You can take your seat...at the back,” she says, before hurrying to the board, eager to put her back to him.

“I thought my mom said all the Forenzos died,” a boy whispers as he passes. “Except the old man, of course.”

“No, they just left,” says the one next to them. “Chased out. Because they’re, you know...”

Obi does; he always had, even before he had a word for it.

“I don’t think a boy can be a witch,” a girl says, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time. “They’re wizards, or something.”

“Warlocks,” scoffs another. “Don’t you know anything? And they do blood magic with little girls--”

Obi grits his teeth, eyes forward. There’s two empty chairs in the back, one in the corner by the window, and the other next to it, and he steers toward that one-- window seats always get him in trouble--

And the boy next to it scoots away, fear bright in his eyes. Obi looks back at the teacher, but she’s writing her name on the board real slow, like she’s hoping this might solve itself.

Fine, he can take a hint. He takes the window, sliding in behind the desk. The girl in front of him scoots forward too, making sure her chair doesn’t touch his desktop, and he sighs. At least they’re all getting this out of the way first.

A bag drops, right next to his seat.

“Ms Kino!” There’s a girl there, smaller than everyone else, though her voice makes her twice as tall. In the morning sun, her hair burns bright like the horizon. “Can I change my seat?”

“Shirayuki?” The teacher blinks back at them, and Obi could swear she breaks into a cold sweat. “Shirayuki, I’m not sure that’s--”

“I can’t see the board from over there,” she says, every syllable digging in its heels. “There’s glare. Because I’m so small.”

Ms Kino squints back at her, and really-- there’s no denying how small she is, at least a head below Obi and he’s nothing to write home about either. “If you’re sure...”

“Great.” She drops into her seat with a thump as loud as thunder, setting out her notebook and pencil with the sort of purposeful efficiency that says there’s no doubt she’s here to stay.

Obi slips his out of his backpack too, so quiet so the other kids will stop looking at him like he’s going to set the place on fire, but he hears, “You’re new, right?”

He looks down, and there’s the girl, smiling across the aisle. “Yeah. I’m--”

“Obi, I heard.” She leans toward him. “I’m--”

“Shirayuki.” His mouth twitches. “I also heard.”

Her smile stretches towards a grin. “You know, Ms Kino likes group projects.”

He blinks. “Does she?”

She nods. “Would you like a partner?”

“She hasn’t assigned one yet,” he says, a little lost.

“She will,” this Shirayuki says, confident. The way he is, when he knows.

He nods, slow. “All right, so for the next one.”

“To start.” She fixes him with a look he can’t get out from under. “Are you eating lunch with someone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He feels guilty about it now, for some reason. “My um. Cousin.”

She brightens. “Great. I’ll show you guys the best place to sit.”

He’s been adopted, he realizes, like the way the cats around the house aren’t. And this girl means to keep him.

For once in his very short life, Obi doesn’t mind knowing. Just like he always does.

[mfingenius]

The ‘Accio’ miracle

Trigger Warnings: very brief mention of self harm and addiction

Draco keeps secrets.

He’s always prided himself in it, knows there’s no one who’s better at it than him; he kept his father’s secrets, first, thirteen and feeling like he was being let into the world of the elite, where people knew things other witches and wizards didn’t. Then, he kept his mother’s secrets; the quiet contempt no one seemed to see, the anxiousness that ate at her day by day because of things Draco didn’t quite understand, things he wasn’t told, not yet, not even though his father had called him a man.

Third, he kept the Dark Lord’s secrets; he remembers the day they came into his home, the Dark Lord and his cult of followers, each crueler and more heartless than the last, and Draco had been fifteen and terrified, and he didn’t feel like a man, not at all, he’d felt like a child. He’d heard the things they planned, seen the things they did, and he’d kept his mouth shut. He thinks he’d died a little, then; the first time he’d heard someone scream under a Crucio was the first time he realized he knew nothing at all, that the glory and the knowledge he thought were his, what he thought the cause he was fighting for entailed, was all wrong.  

He was all wrong.

He still said nothing.

Fourth, he keeps his own secrets; or he tries to, at least. When he’s sixteen and the name Harry James Potter appears across his ribcage in horrible handwriting, he stays locked in his bathroom for three hours, the world crashing down around him; it is the summer before sixth year, and he just – he just needs to make it to September first without anyone noticing, and that’s all. He’s off to Hogwarts, and he can fuck off and never come back. For now, however – for now, well, he’s trapped in a place that used to be his childhood home but is now unrecognizable, filled with people who will not hesitate to kill him – or worse, and Draco knows what they’re capable of, he does, he’s seen them – if they find out who his soulmate is.

In that moment, Draco hates Potter, truly and overwhelmingly hates him, because he’s not going to get out of here, he’s not going to survive this if anyone finds out. The older Death Eaters already hurt him for fun, and he’s done nothing. After this, they’re going to kill him.  

So he does what he has to; he draws a Difindo across the name, over and over until it is unrecognizable, and the pain of it is agonizing, but he shoves a towel between his teeth and bears his way through it; it gives him time, an excuse not to come out of his rooms if anyone comes looking for him – they don’t - but when the skin heals, the name is right there, readable over the scars, and Draco has to sit and just breathe, because this can’t be happening.

After that, he does the next best thing; he wears layers upon layers, skin-tight shirts underneath loose robes so no one will notice, keeps the mark hidden, knows he only needs to get through the summer.

And he almost succeeds. The last day of July – Potter's birthday, Draco knows – the Dark Lord tells him he’s taking the Mark; it’s supposed to be an honor, Draco knows, he can see the pride in his father’s eyes, but the only thing he feels is dread.

He doesn’t want the Dark Mark.

“Shirt off,” the Dark Lord hisses, and Draco’s blood runs cold; he knows it is usual for people to take the Dark Mark shirtless; it’s a metaphor, he thinks, something about his mind and body belonging to the Dark Lord, but for him it’ll be his doom.

Slowly, very slowly, he begins unbuttoning his robes.

                                               Seven years later

“Anything yet?” Ron asks, stepping into their office when two bags of Chinese food; there’s a muggle place two blocks away from the ministry that makes the best spring rolls in the world, and they always eat from there when they’re working on a tough case.  

“No,” Harry says, gratefully taking the box that Ron offers him. “Fuck, this smells delicious.”

Ron nods. “Got extra spring rolls for you.”

Harry groans a muffled ‘thank you’, already devouring the fried rice; he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and he’s starving. He welcomes the taste of salty, fried food, and then looks back to the surveillance footage they’re watching. They’ve been investigating the death of a muggle military general, because he had no apparent cause of death to muggles – an Avada Kedavra - and because traces of magic were found at the scene.

“There he is, look at that.” Harry and Ron lean forward at the same time, eyes narrowing at the grainy footage; they'd ‘confiscated’ it from the Muggle Police – better to avoid unwanted questions when they saw it – but they’re used to how well one can see surveillance charms, so this is undoubtably a step down.

“What is he doing?” Harry asks, frowning; Edward Thomas can be seen drinking alone in the hotel bar; he’d be found in his hotel room, but they’ve already scanned the elevator and hall tapes and nothing has come up, so they’re working their way back.

He’s speaking to the man beside him, whose face they can’t see because his back is to the camera. Harry, however, can see Thomas’s face, and he looks – evidently interested. Harry thinks he might be flirting. The other man is evidently not interested, because he turns away, but Thomas reaches out to harshly grab the other man by the arm; the man steps back, and they struggle for a moment before he manages to break himself free, finally turning towards the camera to leave.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ron says, pausing the footage and placing his takeout box on the table, moving closer. “Is that Malfoy?”

Harry nods numbly.

“Holy shit,” he echoes, and continues to stare at the furious, cool face of his soulmate.

*

“I can stay on the case,” Harry insists. As a policy, the Ministry doesn’t allow an Auror to work any case where their soulmate is involved, but Harry thinks these are special circumstances.

No one’s seen Malfoy in years, for one. He went missing before their sixth year – two years of being a prisoner at the manor, Harry knows – and though he appeared briefly, it was only long enough for the healers at St. Mungo’s to take a look at him. He disappeared again afterwards, as soon as he was discharged, and hasn’t been seen or heard from in five years.

Secondly, they’d finished watching the surveillance footage, and Thomas had left for his room after talking to Malfoy, which means he was most likely the last person to see their murder victim alive.

“You cannot be objective about your soulmate, Potter,” Robards says.  

Harry would’ve loved not to tell him about this new development in the case, but he’d walked in while Ron and Harry were discussing it, so they’d had to.

“Sir, Malfoy and I are hardly soulmates,” Harry argues. “We haven’t spoken in five years!”

Robards looks at him calculatingly; Harry is his best Auror, and him and Ron work best together. Taking him off the case is a bad decision and he knows it, but if he doesn’t and something goes wrong because of Harry being stupid about Malfoy, it’ll be on him.

“Fine,” he says, finally. “You can stay on the case. Find me Malfoy, find me our murderer, and you do not stay alone with him at any point. If I hear you’ve messed something up because you’ve gone and done something more reckless than usual, I swear I'll fire you, Potter, even if the Minister himself tells me not to.”

Harry nods.

*

Malfoy opens the door, takes a look at them, and tries to close it again. Harry slaps his hand against the door to stop him, and Malfoy sighs, rolling his eyes and opening the door again, resigned.

“Potter, Weasley. What are you doing here?”

“Edward Thomas was murdered three nights ago,” Harry says; he thinks one of them should have something more to say; they are soulmates, after all. He expected Malfoy to ask how they had found him, five years after leaving the Wizarding World without a trace. Harry sort of wants to know where Malfoy has been, wonders if he’s been here, in muggle St. Rémy de Provence, the entire time, but he is trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care about Malfoy. It's not working; he’s looking at him and there’s an itch just under his skin that he can’t quite get rid of. “And you were the last person to see him alive.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Malfoy says.

Ron shows him a picture of Thomas, and Malfoy’s eyebrow raises marginally.

“Oh,” Malfoy says. “Him.”

“Yes, him,” Ron says, unimpressed. “You are a witness in our murder investigation, Malfoy, and we’d like you to come into the Ministry for an interview.”

“No, thank you,” Malfoy says politely. “We’re in France, which means you have no jurisdiction. You can’t make me.”

“You’re an English wizard,” Harry says, irritated. Malfoy hasn’t changed one bit. “We could bring you in under-”

“Subsection 1359?” Malfoy finishes for him smugly. “That law only applies to active suspects, Potter, and, as you’ve told it, I’m not one.”

“We could make you one,” Harry says. It’s less than moral, and not something Harry would do, not really, but the arrogant look Malfoy keeps giving him is pissing him off. “We know you left the bar before he did, but you could’ve hired someone to kill him.”

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? With what money?”

“The Malfoy fortunes weren’t seized after the war,” Harry says.

“Right.” Malfoy nods. “Except I’m not a Malfoy anymore.”

Harry opens his mouth to argue, and then shuts it again. “What?”

Malfoy – or, well, not Malfoy – opens his hands in a wide gesture. “Emancipated myself from my parents as soon as my trial was over, Potter, and I haven’t done magic in years. I’m officially a muggle. I have a muggle birth certificate, a passport – I'm Monéguasque, by the way, and yes, I chose it just because I like the way it sounds – and even social security and a job. I’m a muggle.”

“What?” Harry demands, because he can’t quite wrap his head around it; Malfoy as a – as a non Malfoy? Malfoy as a muggle?

“Yes,” Malfoy says. “So you can leave me alone.”

And he closes the door on their face.

“Well,” Ron says, awkwardly. “That was – not good.”

*

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Harry says, mildly, when he and Ron – mostly Harry – have finished their rant about Malfoy.

“Well,” Hermione says, shifting on the sofa. “I knew all of this.”

“What?” Harry and Ron ask.

Hermione sighs and puts down the box of Greek takeout she’d been eating.  

“He asked for my help, when the war ended,” she confesses. “I got him the muggle birth certificate, the passport, the school records, all of it. I had help, obviously. Luna was very helpful, unexpectedly. Turns out her father used to be a barrister, and she-”

“Why would you help him?” Harry asks. Then, “Why would he need help?”

“You’ve made him practically untouchable, I hope you know,” Ron says to his wife, kissing her cheek and reaching for another box of takeout. “It’s made our case a thousand times harder.”

“Thank you,” Hermione says, smugly. “That was the point.” She turns to Harry. “Harry, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but Draco spent two years as Voldemort’s prisoner because he is your soulmate. He lied for us in the manor. He – understandably, I might add – wanted a break from the wizarding world, he asked for my help, and I said yes. It was decent.”

Harry knows, logically, that she is right; that he shouldn’t be as angry as he is about finding out Malfoy has made a successful life for himself in France, and, if he’s honest, he’s not entirely sure why he’s angry.

Maybe – well, a tiny bit of Harry had been excited about knowing who his soulmate was since he was told about them when he was eleven, and, after getting through the initial shock of having Malfoy’s name on his ribcage, he’d hoped they could be – normal, for once.  

He should’ve known better; nothing between them is ever simple.

After Malfoy had lied for him in the manor – and Harry knows Malfoy knows it was him, because they could’ve recognized each other blindfolded and with their hands tied simply by the feeling of it – Harry had been stupid enough to think that, since the war was over, now came the easy part.

The part he deserved.

And then Malfoy had disappeared without another word, and Harry had been left without a soulmate and with the entirety of the Wizarding World expecting him to know why his soulmate had left, where he’d gone to, and when he and Harry would get together.

It had been stressful.

“Why did you never mention it?” he asks, finally, and Hermione gives him a knowing look that Harry doesn’t quite understand.

“You would’ve looked for him.”

“I wouldn’t have!”

“Harry,” Hermione says sensibly. “The first year after the war – you were a mess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not that it’s wrong! Or that it wasn’t understandable, or anything, it’s just-” she exhales, shaking her head, and continues quietly, sorrowful. “We all were. All of us, we were all – Malfoy was, too. You did not see him - I spent only a week visiting him in St. Mungo’s, and it was like he was still trapped in that house. I cannot imagine what it must’ve taken for him to move forward. If you’d gotten together then, you would’ve broken up.”

Harry clenches his jaw and looks away, but he knows she’s right; he barely remembers the year after the war, drowned in a haze of alcohol and sex and potions and clubs and anything that could make him feel even a little better for a second.  

Hermione, though looking better from the outside, had been just as bad; she’d thrown herself into her work in a way that had meant she’d needed potions to keep up, and had had a brief addiction to a wizarding version of Adderall, five times as potent. She had spent almost an entire year struggling to stop after Ron and Harry had found out. There’s too much to fix, she’d said, frustrated. I can’t do it any other way.

Ron had been, surprisingly, the least self-destructive of them; he’d spent the first three months in bed, without moving at all, barely eating, and without speaking to anyone. He’d begun getting better after that – he’d seen a mind healer, and had later dragged Hermione and Harry with him, too – and now, thankfully, they’re all successful, functional people.

None of them forget, though.

Harry was surrounded by people who’d gone through what he did, by people who somewhat understood.  

He couldn't imagine Malfoy having to live through it in the muggle world, with no one who could understand why he couldn’t sleep at night, why he got lost in his own head.

“I’m going to talk to him again,” he says stubbornly.

Hermione’s smile is wry. “I know you are.”

*

“Holy shit,” Malfoy jumps when he walks out of his apartment and finds Harry standing there, leaning against the wall. “Don’t you know how to knock, Potter?”

“Would you have opened the door?” Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.

Malfoy glares at him. “If someone won’t open the door for you, the polite thing to do is leave.”

Harry ignores him. “Are you a doctor?”

Malfoy is wearing lavender scrubs, with a navy blue Henley underneath thick white shoes.

“Nurse,” Malfoy corrects, and then seems surprised at himself for having answered. He crosses his arms across his chest defensively. “I’m a neonatal nurse at the hospital.”

“Is it far?”

Malfoy shakes his head mutely.

“I’ll walk you,” Harry offers. Malfoy looks surprised and more than a little bit suspicious, but he chews on his lower lip and nods. Harry lets Malfoy lead the way, and, together, silently, they walk towards the hospital where Malfoy works.

St. Remy de Provence is unexpectedly beautiful; it’s small, and much quieter than Harry’s used to – magical London is busy and loud on the best of days – but it’s cozy, and Malfoy looks truly peaceful.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asks finally, quietly. “I’m not going to help you with your case.”

“I don’t have a case anymore.” Harry shrugs. “I was transferred.”

He’d gone to Robards after he’d seen Malfoy, and had admitted he couldn’t work the case. Robards had already another team waiting.

Malfoy gives a humorless smile. “Should I be expecting another Auror at my door soon, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “I told them you didn’t know anything.”

Malfoy blinks, stunned for a second, and then mutters a quiet ‘thank you’.

They continue walking in silence, and then Harry decides to simply say it.  

“I want you to come back.” Malfoy immediately stiffens, and Harry can see he is going to refuse outright, which is why he continues quickly. “It doesn’t have to be right now. I don’t mean to pressure you, and I know you - I know you’ve been dealing with – well, everything, like the rest of us, but – it's not the same without you.”

He wishes he were lying, but he’s not; he’d been unable to sleep the night before, and had, very slowly, very painfully, realized that he’s actually missed Malfoy, all this time. Sixth year without him was worse than ever, and through being on the run, Harry had, secretly, wondered where he was, all the time. He'd checked every day, nearly every hour, his soulmark with Draco’s name in his handwriting, only to make sure that it was still inked black and not a faded grey, to know he wasn’t dead.

Seeing him at the manor – and that is not a memory Harry will ever forget. Seeing Bellatrix dragging him forward with a chain wrapped around his neck had sent blinding fury through Harry – had been a breath of fresh air and relief where there was none, if only for a few seconds. Losing him again so shortly after, when he’d disappeared after being discharged, had been unbearable, even on top of everything else.

“I can’t,” Malfoy whispers.

“What?”

“I can’t.” Malfoy clears his throat, looks away. “I meant it when I said I was a muggle, Potter. I – we're soulmates, and I’ve missed you for some – some reason-” he lets out a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head. “I can’t do magic.”

Harry cannot speak. Then, “What?”

“I can’t do magic anymore,” Malfoy says, louder. “When I was – there - my wand was taken away, and I spent - I spent two years without being able to even touch a wand, let alone do any magic, and – afterwards, I was so – so terrified of them I couldn’t bring myself to grab one.”

“Have you tried?”

Malfoy gives him a look. “Obviously. My therapist – she's a muggle, so I had to come up with some pretty creative metaphors, and I think she knows I'm lying to her – she suggested I try to get more comfortable to eventually start doing it again. I worked on it, and I’m not – afraid anymore, not really, I can be around wands, but - I can’t do magic. I’ve tried, even with the simplest of spells, and I can’t. She says – it's just trauma, I know that, but I can’t.”

Harry stays quiet; he cannot imagine not being able to do magic. It had been one of the few things that got him through everything after the war, and having it taken away – well, fuck.

“I’m sorry,” he says uselessly.

Malfoy gives a tense shrug. “I’ve gotten used to it. But I can’t go back.”

“I-”

“I have to go in.” Malfoy gestures to the big hospital on their right. “I’ll... see you later?”

Harry nods, and watches as Malfoy walks away.

*

“This is crossing so many lines,” Hermione had said, when Harry had told her of his plan.

Harry is aware he is crossing many, many lines, but he is now outside of Malfoy’s door, so he cannot back down.

He knocks, and, a few seconds later, the door opens; Malfoy seems to have just woken up – and it’s nearly four in the afternoon, but Harry doesn’t know what kind of shifts he works at the hospital, so he’s not judging him too much – and blinks owlishly at him for a few seconds before sliding his gaze to the person standing next to Harry.

“Potter,” he says, very slowly. “What have you done?”

“This is Healer Bo,” Harry says, placing his hand on Malfoy’s door to stop him from – predictably – slamming the door on their faces. Healer Bo is a little old man with dark, greying hair, shorter than both of them but also probably smarter than them combined. “I know you’ve said your therapist thinks it’s trauma, but what if it’s something different?”

“Potter.” And oh, okay, Malfoy is furious, as is evident by the quickly blooming color on his face. “I am not some victim you can focus your – your hero complex on. I told you those things to explain, not to have you turn me into some pet project!”

“That’s not what I'm doing!” Harry defends. “I’m only trying to help you-”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Well, deal with it, you git, because we are soulmates and I want to help you, and I want you to come back, and I want you to be able to do magic because you deserve it!”

“So you just want me to uproot my entire life for you?” Malfoy demands. “Why don’t you come to the muggle world instead of setting me up with a healer appointment I didn’t ask for? He’s not going to be able to do anything!”

“How do you know that?” Harry pushes. “Your therapist is muggle, Malfoy-”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not-”

“Draco, you can’t have told her everything, so her diagnosis can’t be reliable-”

“Well, too bad! I’m not letting some random healer you’ve brought to my door run tests on me-”

“I’ve already run them,” Healer Bo says calmly. “Your magical core is damaged.”

Silence.  

“What?” Draco asks, fragile.

“It could be trauma, as well, but it’s not only that,” Healer Bo explains. “Your magical core is damaged. I need you to come into my office so I can run some more tests.”

Harry spreads his hands in an ‘I told you so’ gesture, and Draco throws balled socks at him.

*

“What did he say?” Harry asks anxiously, standing up as soon as Malfoy comes out the door, Healer Bo following close behind him. “What did you say? What’s wrong?”

Healer Bo and Draco share a look.

“I told you he frets,” Draco tells him.

“You were right,” Healer Bo agrees solemnly, and before Harry can be properly offended, he continues. “Draco's magical core is damaged because of Crucio.”

“That can happen?” Harry asks, frowning.

“That’s what Crucio does,” Healer Bo says. “It cracks one’s magical core. It’s why it feels like everything is burning. If it’s done enough, the magical core can be damaged irreparably.”

Harry holds his breath. “Is - Draco’s-”

“No,” Healer Bo says; Draco can complain all he likes, but he’s beaming beside Healer Bo. “It’s not irreparably damaged. It will be a long process, however. You’ll both need to be patient.”

They both nod, quickly, and Harry asks, “Do I – should I do something?”

“Support your soulmate,” Healer Bo says simply. Draco’s cheeks turn red, but Harry nods seriously. He’ll do anything he can. “I’ve already given Draco the Potions he’ll need to be taking, and we will have to perform Healing spells once every two days. You can either come in here, or I can send one of my interns-”

“We’ll come in,” Harry says immediately; he assumes Bo’s interns are good – Bo is, after all, one of the highest praised healers in the world – but he wants Bo to do it. He won’t trust anyone else with his soulmate.

“Alright,” Bo says. “I’ll see you in two days.”

*

“What are you thinking about?” Harry had taken Draco out for a late lunch; they’re at the only restaurant reporters never find Harry, a tiny Indian takeout place. The lady who runs it loves Harry, so she never calls the reporters, and doesn’t allow anyone else to call them, either. He’d figured Draco wouldn’t want to be in a Prophet article on his first day back.

“A lot of things,” Draco admits. “The possibility of getting my magic back. The fact that I didn’t quit the hospital before we left, which means that technically I have a shift in twenty minutes, which I figure I’m not going to make. The fact that I have nowhere to live and no money to get a place to live-”

“Come live with me,” Harry blurts. He’s never had the best brain-to-mouth filter.

“What?”

“Live with me,” he repeats. “I’ve - a flat. I moved out of Grimmauld place, it was too – too many memories, but – we can live together, and – if you want to leave, later, I’ll let you, but – well, I'd like it if you stayed.”

Draco stares at him for a moment, and then looks away, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. “Alright.”

Harry can’t help but grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*

The recovery of Draco’s magical core is, as the healer had said, slow. Healer Bo tells them that it really helps that they’re together, because being far from one’s soulmate can be greatly stressful, and Harry is glad to be doing what he can. Apart from that, they settle into Harry’s flat quite nicely.

Harry refuses to sleep on the couch – he was about to offer, but then Draco demanded it, so Harry would be damned before he gave up his bed – and Draco refuses to not sleep in the biggest bed available, so they share Harry’s bed, which Harry thinks should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

It feels... right. Like home, sort of.

Time passes much quicker than it used to, without Draco; Harry takes a year leave from the Aurors so he can dedicate, fully, to his soulmate. Draco gets reintegrated to the magical world slowly, and though he cannot do magic, he’s evidently glad to be back.

They even get pets – a fat kneazle that they call Morgana and a huge black crup that they call Godric – and pretty much build their life together. Draco opens a bakery – and really, of all things Harry imagined Draco doing, this was not one of them – and it turns out that Muggle treats are not widely known in the wizarding world, and they are widely liked, once Draco starts selling them. Because he runs the place, he only works during the morning, which means they get to spend their afternoons lounging together in their flat, watching the telly or teasing each other.

“Potter, I swear to Merlin,” Draco growls, glaring tightly at Harry, who’s holding his favorite mug as high as he can reach.

“I’ll give it to you,” Harry tells him. “As soon as you admit that you’re the one who got our reservation wrong.”

“I did not! You said seven!”

“I told you, a thousand times, that our reservation was at six!”

“No, you didn’t!”  

Turns out, being soulmates didn’t really stop their fighting, but it’s different now. Harry is rarely truly angry while they argue, unlike before, and Draco is the same way.  

“Yes, I did!”

“No you bloody didn’t!” Draco snaps. “Give me my mug back right now, or I’ll - I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Harry asks smugly. “What will you do to me, Draco?”

Draco glares at him, ears red in his anger, and then grabs Harry’s wand off the counter and yells, ‘Accio’.

The mug flies straight from Harry’s hand into Draco’s. They’re both so surprised it slips from his hands, shattering on the floor.

Neither of them care.

“Did I just-”

“Did you just-”  

They look at each other for a moment, before they both break into the biggest grins imaginable. Harry laughs and pulls him in for a tight hug, lifting him and spinning around in their kitchen, miraculously not stepping on any shards of ceramic.  

“You just did magic, Draco!” Harry practically yells, not putting him down. “Magic!”

“I did!” Draco’s ecstatic, over the moon, grin wider than Harry’s ever seen. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

And he grabs Harry’s face roughly and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

They both freeze momentarily, and Harry puts him down.

“I’m sorry,” Draco begins immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t - I shouldn’t have-”

Harry pulls him in for another kiss, deeper this time, and pulls him closer, grabbing his hips.  

“Don’t apologize,” he pleads. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“You have?” Draco sounds surprised.

“Yes,” Harry says, and he kisses him again. Draco wraps his arms around his neck, and Harry lifts him again, sitting him in their kitchen counter, and he can’t get enough, he can’t stop, he can’t.

When they both pull away to breathe – a long, long time later – Harry cannot stop grinning at him.

“I love you,” he says. “Soulmate.”

Draco’s grin is the only thing Harry wants to see for the rest of his life.  

“I love you, too,” he says, rubbing their noses together sweetly. “Soulmate.”

And Harry kisses him again, and he thinks that if everything he had to go through was leading to this moment, he’d do it all again, a thousand times, however many times it was necessary, because this? This is everything.

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

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Lost Time {14}

A/N: Co-written as always by the love of my life, @tacmc. Sorry that this chapter was so delayed, life got a little hectic. Chapter 15 will be up on Sunday!

Elain’s phone vibrated on her nightstand and she was instantly awake. Still snuggled into Azriel’s arms, she took a deep breath before slowly wiggling herself free. Azriel rolled onto his back, still sound asleep, snoring quietly. She tried not to laugh at the adorable sight of him, his mouth hanging open and his hair an absolute mess.

After taking a mental image, she crossed the ball to the bathroom. After a quick, warm shower, she tip-toed back across the hall, determined to let Novan sleep as long as possible so that he wasn’t cranky once his day full of play began.

Azriel was still passed out in their bed, although now he was laying sideways, his feet hanging off the side. She never knew how he could stay sleeping in so many interesting positions. With the slightest movement, Elain was up and alert. Azriel could be sleeping upside down in a chair with a tornado outside and still stay sound asleep.

She crept downstairs, stepping over the sea of legos that Az and Novan had left in the hall way - it’s lava, mama, Novan had explained while Az nodded behind him - and turning on the coffee pot. The kitchen immediately smelled amazing and Elain closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her life was so different today from how it had only a month ago.

A month ago, she’d been a single mother, trying to fit herself in a relationship that just wasn’t meant for her. She thought she’d never know true love again.

And then Az came barreling back into her life and throwing everything out of proportion and she’d never been happier.

She sat down in the chair she’d sat in all those weeks ago, when Az had come to talk to her. She had almost kissed him that day, she knew how easy it would have been, to fall back into him then and there. But that wouldn’t have been fair to Lucien, not after everything he’d done for her and Novan.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she made her way back up the stairs, her damp hair curling at the ends. She put on a light dusting of makeup, content to let her hair dry naturally on its own and got dressed before creeping down the hall to Novan’s room.

He was out, sleeping in the exact same position as his father. After picking out his clothes and kissing him on the forehead, she gently shook his little frame until his hazel eyes were blinking up at her.

He yawned. “Morning, mama.”

“Good morning,” she whispered. “Are you ready to go to Meme’s?” 

A sleepy grin spread across his mouth. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s get up and going.”

He did as he was told, yawning as he got dressed and brushed his teeth. When Elain came from her bedroom, putting her pearl studs into her ears, she found him sitting on the top stair, his backpack on and his camera around his neck.

He looked up at her and said quietly, “Is daddy still sleeping?”

“Yes, he is, so be real quiet, okay?” Elain whispered, taking his hand and walking down the stairs.

He nodded, but then he asked, “If daddy is home, why am I going to Meme’s?”

Elain poured a cup of coffee into a travel mug and said, “Daddy has some important stuff to do today, so he’ll be going to Uncle Rhys’ office in just a little bit.”

She reached for her keys hanging by the door and saw Azriel’s, the old puzzle piece keychain still hanging on after all these years.

Her hand flew up to her throat and Elain realized she forgot to put her necklace on. Telling Novan she’d be right back, she hurried up the stairs and got the dainty necklace from where it laid on her nightstand. She clasped it behind her neck and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Azriel’s check. He stirred, but didn’t wake, snuggling up to her pillow and Elain softly chuckled, playing with the chain of her necklace.

The necklace wasn’t the first piece of jewelry Azriel had given her, by far, but it was the only one she had. It was the only one she’d kept. Everything else he’d ever given her had been trashed once Nesta got ahold of it.

All but one very expensive ring.

It had been years since she’d even looked at the intricate ring. It caused her too much pain, but she knew she’d never be able to give it up. She hoped to one day give it to Asher, to give to the girl of his dreams.

Quietly opening her underwear drawer, Elain reached into the very back, behind stained maternity bras and never worn lingerie, until her fingers closed around the velvet ring box. She pulled it out and ran her thumb over the soft lid and took a deep breath.

She had no idea what capacity of their relationship Az wanted to pick back up on. It obviously couldn’t be where they’d left off at the altar, but after four years, were things too different to seriously consider marriage already? Things felt the same, but she worried.

In the end, she only wanted to look at it, to see it sparkle in the morning light.

Elain flipped the lid back - and she froze.

Her engagement ring wasn’t in the box.

She moved her hand around the back of the drawer, thinking it may have fallen out, but there was nothing but scraps of fabric and lace. She must have misplaced at some point, although it sure didn’t seem like something she would do. 

She had always been so careful, and even when she was miserable and pissed after he had left, she had cherished it.

One look at the clock, though, was telling her she had to get going or she was going to be late. After putting the box back in the rear of her drawer, she looked at Azriel, laughed quietly at the image of him all snuggled up and cozy, then left.

——————

At just after eleven, Azriel walked into Rhysand’s law firm. The secretary greeted him, and told him she’d let Rhys know he was here. Nodding, he sat down in one of the soft, leather chairs in the waiting area. He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, his palms clammy and slick with sweat.

He had no idea why he was so nervous, anyone who had eyes could see that Donovan was his son. But the legal system didn’t care about that. They needed definitive proof. And Rhys wasn’t cutting any corners. He was having a nurse come to his office to draw a sample of blood from Azriel.

He closed his eyes and began to take deep breaths, in and out. It was less than five minutes before the secretary was saying, “Mr. Draeven?” 

Azriels eyes flew open to meet her kind smile. “Hmm?”

“Mr. Lunasa is ready for you. Go on back.” 

He nodded his thanks and trudged into the office with Rhysand’s name on the door. He was leaning back in his desk chair, his arms folded on top of his abdomen. “Good morning, little brother. You look like you’re going to puke.”

Azriel sighed, plopping down in the chair across from him. “Your office is so fancy, it has that effect. I’m afraid to touch anything. Might break it.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, that’s it. Not the life changing decision you’re about to make.”

Azriel shook his head, his eyes locked onto the fancy, gold name plate resting near the edge. “The decision is already made. He’s my son. I know he is. I’ve never doubted that or Elain for a second. This just...makes shit way more permanent.”

Rhys leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his desk. “Az, you don’t…have to do this. He’s yours, regardless, and you can adopt him whenever you and Elain get married-.”

“I’m not going to adopt my biological son, Rhys. Not when his mother is the love of my life. Not when we’re together.” Azriel sighed. “I’m not going to delay something that should have been done right four years ago and something that will tie us as a family.”

Rhys nodded and was about to say something when his desk phone lit up and his secretary’s voice floated through. “Mr. Lunasa? Ms. Towers is waiting for you in the conference room.”

Rhysand pressed a button and said, “Thank you, Cerridwen.” He looked up to Azriel. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he said, meaning for his voice to be light, but the one word cracked. 

Rhysand chuckled before rising to his feet, clapping him on the shoulder, and walking toward the door. When he noticed Azriel wasn’t following, he cleared his throat, forcing Azriel to rise to his feet and trail after him.

He only wanted to be added to the birth certificate. Legally, he had Elain’s last name. After he’d left, and Azriel didn’t know of Novan’s existence, he hadn’t been added to the birth certificate at the time of Donovan’s birth. It made sense, of course. Azriel didn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, he would have most likely done the same.

But now, he was back. He was a part of their lives, and he wasn’t going anywhere. 

When Elain asked if he would like to be added to Novan’s birth certificate as his father, Azriel had cried for hours at the thought alone. 

Now, he was going to be added, but to do that, he had to be tested, prove to the courts that he was the father.

Naturally, he’d gone to Rhysand, but when he followed his older brother into the conference room, his nerves spiked. 

Ms. Towers, he assumed, smiled at the pair as they entered. “Good morning, gentleman.” She was dressed in a pair of light green scrubs and her curly hair  was pulled back from her face. “Mr. Lunasa, nice to see you again.”

He shook her hand and said, “I’ve told you, it’s Rhysand, and you, too, Yrene. This is my brother, Azriel.”

Az shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Alright.” Rhys clapped his hands together and said, “I’m going to read all the legal mumbo jumbo to you in a minute, but here’s the gist.” He looked at Azriel. “Do you give her permission to take a sample of your blood for the express and solitary purpose of a paternity test?”

He laid out a piece of paper in front of him. Azriel nodded and signed the paper.

After sanitizing the table and her tools, Yrene had Azriel sit in front of her and roll up his sleeve.

It was ironic, because of how many tattoos he had, but Azriel hated needles with a passion. He turned his head and looked to Rhys as a distraction. “So how do you know Yrene?”

He laughed, somewhat awkwardly, as he leaned against the wall. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to say. HIPPA and everything.”

Yrene shrugged from where she was cleaning Azriel’s arm. “You can say, I just can’t.”

“Fair enough,” Rhys nodded. “Yrene is Nesta’s OB. Feyre’s been seeing her, too.”

Yrene was good, she didn’t warn him of the needle with a countdown, he just felt a sharp prick and pinch and she said, “Don’t turn around if you don’t like blood.” Azriel nodded, keeping his eyes closed. “Tell me about Novan.” 

Azriel blew out a breath. Where to begin? “He’s very gentle, very kind. Inquisitive, for four. A fan of legos, cars, getting muddy.” Yrene chuckled as she pressed a cotton ball against his arm. “I hear he looks a lot like me.”

“And Rhysand is his favorite uncle,” Rhysand added, once it looked like Azriel was about to faint.

“That’s not what Cassian says,” Yrene sang, releasing the band she tied around his bicep. “He said it’s one of the whole reasons they want to have a baby.”

She was smirking when the two men looked at her, Rhysand’s face incredulous, but Azriel looked at the three small vials in her hands, a purple top screwed on each. “Shit, is that my blood?”

Rhys chuckled and said “ You’re covered in tattoos but you can’t handle having blood drawn?”

With his eyes closed and head leaned back against the plush office chair, Az mumbled, “An itty bitty needle scratching you isn’t the same as a big ass needle going directly into your vein.”

With a shake of his head, Rhys said, “Fair enough.” Az leaned forward and held his head between his knees as Yrene packed her supplies up. “I might have left one bit out of Yrene’s introduction earlier.”

“Yeah?” Az mumbled, half paying attention.

“She birthed Donovan,” Rhys said slowly, waiting for his reaction.

Azriel tensed, then slowly looked up. Yrene was looking at him, now, her eyes soft. A thousand questions flooded his mind, but his lips had forgotten how to move.

She was there when Azriel hadn’t been. Azriel had missed the greatest day of his life, but she had been there to witness all of it.

Azriel cleared his throat as he asked, quietly, “You did?”

She nodded, gently. “I did.” She smiled at him, though her eyes were sad.

Rhys cleared his throat. “We figured, since we’ve pretty much come full circle at this point, it was Yrene who officially made Elain Novan’s mother, she should be the one to officially tell us you were his father.”

Azriel bit the inside of his cheek and let his eyes fall shut. His family, his supportive, loving, amazing family, had thought of everything. He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder. He looked over to find Yrene’s kind eyes on him. He covered her hand with his own. “Thank you.”

“No thanks is needed,” she said, with a genuine smile. “Rhys, I’ll call you with the results in three days, give or take.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Yrene.” She packed her supplies up, while Az messed with the bandage in the crook of his arm, and as she was about to leave, he added, “Oh, and the other results? From last week?” Azriel glanced at his brother, confused, but Yrene paused and turned back to him. She looked between the two and Rhys added, “You can speak freely in front of him about our case.”

She nodded and sighed. “The results were inconclusive. Feyre’s tests seemed typical, but when the labs sent me yours, they were...off. Call my office this afternoon, they’ll give you the number of the specialist we were discussing.”

Rhys nodded, but Az couldn’t see his face. “Thank you.”

Yrene smiled and left, but Rhysand still didn’t turn around. Azriel slowly rose before pushing, hesitantly. “Rhys?”

Rhysand cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Um,” he began, but his voice was quiet. When he didn’t turn to meet Azriels gaze, Azriel went to his side. The look in Rhysand’s eyes was distant. 

“Feyre and I have been trying for a while,” he said, quietly. “It hasn’t been happening. I think it might be me.”

Azriel’s heart fell, but when he said nothing, Rhysand went on. “We both got tested, but I knew it wasn’t Feyre’s fault.”

“Rhys, I’m so…” Azriel paused. He didn’t just want to tell him he was sorry. He was sure that was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Rhys nodded before he could continue. “Me fucking too. Ever since Donovan was born, Feyre’s wanted a baby. I wasn’t ready, so...we waited.” He cleared his throat and weakly laughed. “All that money we could have been saving on condoms.”

The joke was half hearted, but Az couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. Instead, he carefully said, “There are other ways. You could adopt.”

The way Rhysand shook his head, he could tell that this was not a new topic. “She wants to be a mother. She wants the...entire experience. She wants to be pregnant, to build that bond. Novan and Elain, they don’t act differently now that you’re around, but before you were back… It was just the two of them against the world. And they were each other’s world.” He shook his head. “And if her body isn’t the one that’s fucked up, how could I deny her of that?”

Azriel couldn’t stop the silent tear that ran down his cheek as he listened to his brother. “Then what about a donor? Or a surrogate?”

“Are you offering?” Rhys chuckled dryly at his joke at his own expense.

Azriel frowned. There was nothing he could say to make it better. It was too fresh a topic for there to be an answer that was comforting.

When you found out you can’t reproduce, can’t have biological children when it was always a dream to do so, it was heartbreaking. 

Instead, Azriel took Rhysand into his arms and hugged him tight. Rhysand didn’t say anything, but after a moment, his arms wrapped around Azriel, too.

——————

Elain was humming quietly to herself as she sanded the small table. The playlist she had chosen for the day was a mix of hits from high school and she was constantly taken back to memory after memory as the songs played.

A bell rang over the door as a customer walked in and she brushed all the spare sawdust off of her shirt. She walked out from the back and said, “Can I help-?”

She froze.

Lucien stood there, his hands in his pockets. To her surprise, he smiled at her, although the gesture never reached his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, quietly.

She hadn’t seen him since the day she had left to look for Azriel, when he had asked her to choose between the two of them. 

“I, um, was cleaning up the other day,” he began, taking a deep breath. “Found some of your stuff I thought you would want.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s in my car. I can put it in your car or I can...bring it in?”

Elain blinked. “The car is fine, that way I don’t have to bring it out again.” She chuckled lightly.

He smiled again, but it was forced. “Great. If you just want to grab me your keys.”

Elain nodded and hurried into the back room, where her purse was tucked beneath a desk in the corner. After fishing her keys out of her bag, she froze, closed her eyes, took a deep breath. No, her and Lucien did not belong together, but he wasn’t a terrible man. 

Elain sighed, grasped her keys a little harder, and walked back into the store front.

“Here,” she breathed, holding them out.

Lucien stared at her hand for a few seconds before reaching up to take them. He walked out without a word and Elain waited, leaning on the counter that held the antique jewelry that the shop had acquired and she heaved a sigh of relief as realization washed over her.

When the door reopened, she hurried around for her keys, stepping around him for the door, and he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Something you’ve been waiting for? You could have called to get it sooner.”

She blushed and said, “It would have been awkward asking my ex-boyfriend for my engagement ring from my ex-fiancé.”

Lucien’s face paled and he looked off to the side, where she’d hung a large rug on the wall the morning before. “I don’t-.” He cleared his throat and looked at her “I don’t know anything about your ring.”

Elain stilled, and raised a brow. “You're lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he countered, crossing his arms. 

“Lucien,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’ve known you for a long time. I know when you’re lying.”

Lucien just shook his head, slowly. “Look, I came here to be nice and bring you your stuff after you shittily dumped my ass, okay? I didn’t come here to argue.”

“This isn’t something to argue about, this is something for you to tell me,” she said and then back-pedaled. “I shittily dumped your ass?” Lucien didn’t say a word. He just stared at her. “I’m not the one who gave an ultimatum.”

“I never should have-.” Lucien stopped, realizing his voice was raising. “I never should have had to. He was your fucking ex, Elain.”

“He’s also the father of my child,” she replied, laughing for whatever reason. It made her feel unhinged, but then, the fact that Lucien didn’t understand why she’d had to leave that day.

“You were going to dump me regardless.  You were already with him, what difference does it make.”

Elain’s eyes closed. She knew that he’d assume that. She and Azriel had discussed it while they’d laid in bed that day in the hotel.

Let him assume, Azriel had said, his lips dragging across her collarbone, his thumb rubbing circles into her hip. He was in the way anyways.

Az! She’d laughed, trying to push him away, but not trying too hard. What they’d done afterwards was proof of that, too.

Elain looked at Lucien now, at the hurt in his eyes, fully aware that anything she had to say would not ease that pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said, at last. “But, he’s my person, Luce. He’s who I’m supposed to be with-.”

“Stop,” he breathed, begged. “Please.”

Elain closed her eyes as she frustratingly closed her lips. But then, when he said nothing more, she asked, quietly, “What happened to my ring?”

His jaw locked and his eyes flashed. “It’s gone.”

She blinked and waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she breathed, “What do mean It’s gone?” Her voice was deathly soft.

He sighed. “I mean, it’s gone. I pawned. I sold it.”

Elain hadn’t thought she heard right, had thought it was a joke, even though the look in his eye said otherwise. “You pawned it?”

Lucien didn’t say a word, but his shoulders tensed, his jaw locked. 

With her hands shaking at her sides, Elain asked, her voice loud in the quiet store, “What gave you the right to do that?”

Lucien shook his head, completely unaffected by her rise in volume. “You should be thanking me.”

Elain barked a laugh. “Should I?”

“You kept your ex’s ring, who left you at the fucking alter,” he spat, through gritted teeth. “I was doing you a favor so you could finally move on!”

“You had no right. You had no fu-.” Elain’s head swam and she leaned back on the counter. “What pawn shop? When?”

Lucien ignored her questions. “Are you okay?” He rested a hand under her elbow. She didn’t pull away, so he knew she absolutely wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “What pawn shop was it, Luce?”

The nickname hurt him, but he said, “Elain, what’s wrong?”

She gripped the edge of the counter and screamed, “Lucien, where is my fucking ring?”

Lucien tensed, although his hand still lingered beneath her elbow. “The local one down on fifth, across from the bakery.”

Elain’s eyes shut as she let out a quiet sob.

“Elain-.” He started, but was cut off.

“Get out.” Her words were quiet, but powerful. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the countertop.

Lucien didn’t move. “You’re not okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said, unsure of whether it was a lie or not. “Leave. Please.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Don’t take my help. But when he leaves you again, don’t come crying to me. You did this to us, Lainy.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, swallowing harshly. “There is no us, Lucien. We’re done.”

Lucien didn’t say another word, just turned on a heel and walked out.

Elain let her head fall on the small glass top of the cabinet. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, dialing a number that she had never forgotten.

She told him to come to the shop, something was wrong. She was lightheaded and nauseous and the aching in her abdomen…

Azriel was on his way before they’d even hung up the phone.

Putting her phone to her ear, she made one more call. Nesta’s voice floated through the receiver.

Elain could barely get the words out by the time she answered.

Ring.

Pawn shop.

On the square.

My ring.

She hoped Nesta got the gist, because less than two minutes later, Azriel was picking her unconscious body from the floor and rushing her to the hospital.

[the-mayan-queen]

Sacrifice

The guys have just come out of Templo and are sitting around the clubhouse. Angel is sitting at the bar, talking to EZ and I can hear the conversation. I look at Angel and he looks so sad and I hear Angel say “Shit, maybe he’d be better off with someone else. What kind of fucking father would I be?” he asks. I stand up and move to hug him and then I cup his face and say “You’re son needs to be with you. You are going to be an amazing father Angel. There is no one that will love that little boy more than you.” I tell him and he pulls me close to hug me again and says “Gracias Princesa.” before kissing my temple. I pull away and he looks down at his beer again. “I’m going to head home.” I say and look at Angel. “Call me if you need anything.” I tell him and he nods before taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I look at EZ and he’s the only one that knows how I feel about Angel. He’s one of my closest friends and he knows that I am completely in love with Angel. 

I get home and take out my laptop and load it up. I had remembered hearing Angel talk about Adelita’s real name and after listening to Angel and the guys talk about how Potter did a paternity test and found out that Angel was the baby’s father, that made me think. If he did he paternity test, that means he had to have used Adelita’s name. So, I started hacking into the ADA database and started looking for anything with Luisa Espinoza and Lincoln Potter as well as adding in Angel’s name. And I found it. There was documentation of the paternity test, the birth certificate, and then there it was. The paperwork to have the baby, who Adelita named Mateo, into protective custody. Looking at the paperwork, I wrote down the names and the address of what I’m assuming is the safehouse where the baby is being held. I looked at the address and noticed that it was in the same area as where the guys rescued Gabby’s family from. There were some names listed and I wrote those down. Then I started searching the names and found out that the people that have Mateo are...Vatos. Fuck.

I thought about things for the rest of the night and formed a plan. I don’t really have anyone other than the club but I know the importance of family and Angel needs his son. I found a phone number for the president of the Vatos and I make the call. “Who’s this?” the man asks. “My name is Mona Munson.” I tell him. “What can I do for you Mona Munson?” he asks. “I hear you have something that the Mayan’s want and I want to make a deal with you.” I tell him. “And what, exactly, do you have that we could want?” he asks. “I know what you guys do. I know that you guys traffic women. I want to trade the baby and in exchange, I want to turn myself over to you. You’ll get more money for me than the baby.” I tell him. “And what makes you so special?” he asks. “I’m the SONS Princess. My father was Bobby Munson. Every charter knows me.” I tell him. “Well, that does change things. I’ll text you the time and place to meet. You have yourself a deal.” he tells me. “One more thing. When we meet. I am having a friend bring me. It won’t be a club member. I need someone to take the baby to the clubhouse.” I tell him. “Understood.” he tells me before ending the call. A few minutes later, I get a text of the time and place to meet.

I pull up at Vickie’s and when I walk in, she sees me and looks at me concerned. “Can we talk? In private?” I ask and she nods and takes me into the office. “What can I do for you mija?” she asks. “I need a huge favor.” I tell her and she looks at me even more concerned. “I did a little hacking and I found Angel’s baby.” I tell her. “That’s amazing mija. But why are you here and not at the clubhouse telling the guys?” she asks. “Because the people that are holding him, if the guys come for him, they will kill the baby.” I tell her and she looks at me shocked. “Who has him?” she asks. “The Vatos.” I tell her and her eyes go wide. “I called their president and made a deal with him. I’m trading myself for the baby.” I tell her. “No mija. No.” she tells me and I see her eyes tear up and I say “Vickie, I’m the daughter of a SON. He will make more money off of me than the baby and Angel needs his son.” I tell her. “What about Angel?” she asks. “Angel doesn’t love me. He loves Adelita and his son. Now he will have both. You’re not going to talk me out of it and I could really use your help.” I tell her. “What can I do?” she asks. “I have to meet them in an hour and they are going to hand me the baby. I need you to take the baby to the clubhouse to Angel.” I tell her and she nods before hugging me.

An hour later, we are at the meeting spot and the Vatos pull up. Vickie takes my hand and squeezes to show her support. The president gets off his bike and walks towards us. I step forward and he looks me up and down and smirks. “Looks like we’re making a fair trade.” he tells me. “Where’s the baby?” I ask. He motions one of his men forward and he gets a carrier out of the van and brings him to me. I look down at him and see it really is Angel’s baby. He looks just like Angel. “I’m going to give him to my friend and say goodbye to her and then we can go.” I tell him and he nods his agreement. I walk over to Vickie and sit the carrier down. I hug her and say “Tell Angel I love him please.” I tell her and she hugs me tighter. When she releases me, she nods before picking the carrier up and heading to her car. “Now, let’s go.” he tells me harshly and I do what I’m told.

He takes me back to a warehouse and locks me in a room that has nothing but a bed with a metal headboard bolted to the wall. I sit there for a while before the president comes back in and has two other men with him. They move forward and start to tie my hands to the headboard and I don’t fight them. “Not even going to fight querida?” he asks. “I knew what I was signing up for so why fight?” I ask. He tells his guys to leave the room and moves closer to me. He takes my pants and panties off before climbing between my legs. I look at the wall so I don’t have to look at him and he pulls out his hard member before roughly entering me and having his way with me. Over the next little bit, three more men come into the room and use me to get off.

Vickie pulls up at the clubhouse and takes the carrier out of the car and walks into the clubhouse. Bishop sees her first and rushes to her when he sees her carrying the carrier and there are tears running down her face. “Vickie? What happened?” he asks and Angel walks over and sees the baby. “Mateo? How?” he asks as he reaches down and softly touches his son for the first time. “Mona. She found out who had your son and she...she’s gone.” she says. “Gone? What do you mean gone?” Taza asks and Angel is still in shock that his son is there. “She traded herself for Mateo.” she says and Angel looks up at her shocked. He stands back up and asks “Traded? To who?” She looks from him to Taza and says “The Vatos.” They all look at her shocked and Angel asks “Can you...?” and before he finishes she says “I got him. Just get her back.” He nods and kisses her cheek before they all head into Templo.

Sitting at the table and they all look at Angel and he’s looking down at his hands on the table. “Are you okay mano?” Hank asks him and he looks up at Hank and says “I don’t know. My son is here but why the fuck would she turn herself over to them? She knows what they do to women?” Angel asks. “I don’t know.” Bishop says and Taza finally walks into Templo. “I just asked Vickie where they did the exchange and she said there was a pull off just outside of Santo Padre and after they left, she followed and saw them go down a dirt road. She told me where it is and it’s right down from where we rescued the prospect’s girl. The only thing down that dirt road is a warehouse.” Taza says. Angel stands up and asks “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” and Bishop stops him. “Go see your son a minute. We’ll leave in ten.” Angel nods and Bishop bangs the gavel. Angel is the first one out the door and Bishop, Taza and Hank stay behind. “Why would she turn herself over like that?” Hank asks. “She’s in love with him.” Bishop says and Taza says “You know there’s a chance this will be a recovery instead of a rescue.” Bishop looks out the door at Angel holding his son and says “Let’s just find her and we can go from there.” before they all walk out of Templo.

After the men were done with me they drugged me to knock me out. The door gets kicked in and there are gunshots but I still don’t wake up. The door opens and Angel comes running in with Coco and Gilly behind him and sees me tied to the bed. Gilly and Coco start untying me as Angel is patting my face. “Mona, wake up. Please wake up. Baby please just wake up.” he begs as he tries to get me to wake up. “We gotta get her out of here Angel.” Gilly says and Angel wraps the blanket around me and carries me out of the room and to the van.

A little later, I wake up and I’m laying in a bed and there’s a soft light. I feel and hand holding mine and I pull my hand from the one holding it and hear “Princesa, you’re awake.” Angel whispers. I look at him shocked and start to sit up and realized I’m wearing one of his shirts and panties. I pull away from him a little and he gives me a minute. “Where am I?” I ask. “My house.” he tells me and I look at him shocked. “Mateo?” I ask and as if summoned, we hear his little cry. Angel walks over and picks him up and he stops crying. “You wanna hold him?” he asks. “Can I?” I ask and he smiles softly before gently handing him to me. I look down at him and I feel a tear fall. “Why did you sacrifice yourself for him?” he asks me. I look up at him incredulously and ask “Why wouldn’t I?” He looks down at Mateo and says “His mother chose her cause over me and him. But you...you literally traded your life to make sure my son was safe. Why?” he asks. I look back down at Mateo and say “You needed your son.” I tell him. He sits down on the side of the bed and he takes Mateo’s hand and his little fingers wrap around Angel’s finger. “How’d you find him?” he asks. “Some of the guys know this but my dad was a SON.” I tell him and he looks at me shocked. “Bobby Munson.” I say. “He the one they called Bobby Elvis?” he asks and I nod my head yes. “When I was a kid, he was an Elvis impersonator. He was the best. Well, one of the guys in the club, earned his spot as the intelligence officer because he was a great hacker. Well, he started teaching me how to hack and there were times that if Juice wasn’t available, I’d help hack shit because the club knew they could trust me. I remembered you saying what Adelita’s real name was so I hacked into the ADA database and found where the request was for the paternity test and knew that they would have to register the test in order for their office to get the results. I also hacked and found out where the safehouse was and found out the names of the people tasked with holding Mateo and I knew that they could get more money for the kid of a SON than a baby.” I tell him. “Mona, did they...” he starts and I put my hand on him cheek and say “I knew what I was signing up for Angel.” I tell him and he puts his hand on top of mine and then kisses my palm. “The club’s lawyer is filing the paperwork to have Adelita’s rights taken away since she’s going to be in prison for who knows how long. I want you to be his mother.” he tells me. “Angel...” I start. “She let him get taken and chose her cause over him. You literally sacrificed yourself for him. You are his mother.” he tells me. I look up at him and he says “He has my last name and when you’re ready I want you to have it too.” he tells me. I move my hand to the back of his neck and pull him close, letting him kiss me softly and say “I would be honored mi amor.” before we look back down at Mateo knowing he’s safe where he belongs.

[ghostxofxartemis]

Kiss asks: #29 a kiss on the inside of the wrist. for pairing of your choice

Thank you so much for this prompt! It definitely took me surprise where it went. But damn these two are adorable! Also, I apologize for the horrid grammar, bilingual problems. 

Available on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                         Enraptured

His omni-tool beeped, stirring him out of a deep sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he checked the time quickly. It was 3:00 am. Two more hours before Kaidan had to get up for work.

Kaidan. Axel felt him stir in bed next to him. He ghosted a kiss on Kaidan's shoulder just before he rolled out of bed and stood up. He quietly padded his way into the office adjacent to their master bedroom.

Groggily he answered the call, while trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hello?"

"Commander. You're a hard man to reach.”

Although his vision was still blurry from sleep he easily recognized the familiar face on the video call. 

"For reasons, Bailey. What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to disturbed you this early in the morning. I do realize what time it is on Earth. But your name was listed as emergency contact-"

"Emergency contact for who?" Skepticism filled his tone. The only person he knew to have him listed as an emergency contact was Kaidan. He looked back behind him into the master bedroom to make sure he hadn't dreamt that Kaidan laid there next to him just seconds ago. Not even his mother had put him down as contact after he came back from the dead. Whether it was intentional or she merely forgot, he would never know. Since Kaidan slept in the room just across from him, he didn't understand who else would have put his name on the list. His father had long retired…

"Your daughter"

"My wh-?" If he hadn't been awake before, he sure fucking was now.

"We obtained birth records, blood type information, medical history… your name is listed on the birthday certificate as the father. Your name was provided as emergency contact by a Melanie? No last name indicated. This was…" Bailey looked up from the paperwork he had been reading from "given to us a couple days after the reapers were at our front door. Transportation will be arranged for her. Information will be sent in a few hours. I'll be in touch." Bailey ended the transmission and Axel stood dumbfounded.

"I want to adopt her." Axel turned around to see Kaidan standing at the door, rubbing his eyes, his sweatpants haphazardly put on showing the deep V going down his sweats. The bulge down below is just a little distracting for Axel that he had to force his eyes up to meet Kaidan's.

**Keep reading underline or go to AO3**

He knew his jaw was hanging open slightly. He briefly wondered exactly how in shock he most looked. Or was it confusion? Fear?. He couldn't tell himself if he were to be honest with himself. He’d figured that ship had sailed, but he’d been wrong. So many questions ran simultaneously in his mind and he couldn't seem to turn off the off switch this time.

But one question spoke the loudest to him; why didn’t she tell me?

“Come back to bed?" Kaidan offered a hand out and Axel accepted it, gratefully allowing himself to be guided back to their bedroom. He was truly in need of this comfort right now and Kaidan was graciously given it out to him. One of the reasons he loved the man so much, he always seemed to know what to do whenever Axel needed him the most.

Crawling back to bed, he pulled up the sheets on top of them both and wrapped his arm around Kaidan's waist. Kaidan turned to face him, intertwining his fingers with Axel's hand that laid between them, though said nothing. He didn't have to. Axel could read his eyes, and they spoke to him at a level that even words could not express. I'm here, and I'll be here when you're ready to talk. He didn't have to hear Kaidan speak to words aloud, because their connection ran deeper than just their love for one another. They understood each other in a way others couldn’t.

He kissed Kaidan on the forehead before closing his eyes and pretending to go back to sleep and he waited for the familiar steady breathing he knew meant his partner was in a deep sleep before pulling away and got dressed to head downstairs.  

~~~~~~~

The alarm clock blared and Kaidan turned to the otherside to turn it off. Facing back the way he came, he noticed the spot next to him where Axel usually laid was empty. He had grown accustomed to waking up and finding himself alone in bed. His husband had always been an early riser and that hadn’t changed since they defeated the reapers. 

Sliding to the edge of the bed, he swung his legs to the side, sitting up and stretched his arms high above him while yawning all at the same time. Quickly he activated his omni-tool to send off a message to his colleagues he wouldn’t be in the office and sent along the lesson plan for the day before grabbing his t-shirt from the foot of the bed and shrugging it on. 

Arriving into the kitchen, he found Axel hunched over a datapad, head resting in his hands and coffee mug in front him. But something struck out more than usual… his husband was dressed which was an unusual sight to see. Kaidan had always found it amusing and slightly distracting that his husband always seemed to like to strut around the house nude. Kaidan never complained about it, though. He poured himself a mug and topped off Axel’s before wrapping his arms around Axel’s shoulders and kissed him on the temple.

“Sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine. What are you reading?” Kaidan, curious, asked him. 

“Alexandra Ashley Meagan Hawkings. Prefers to go by Ashley.” He inhaled deeply, letting himself sink against his husband. He distinctively noticed Kaidan’s biotic energy was much calmer than his right now and he tried to focus on that. He knew his energy was a hurricane next to Kaidan’s stillness of calm waters. 

“We could change it for her. Make Ashley her first name.” 

“I keep doing the math over and over again inside my head. Based on her birthday. Everytime I do, It keeps bringing me back to that night on Elysium.” Axel sighed, bringing down his arms to table and taking a tentative sip from his coffee.

“Melanie?”

“You heard that huh? My ex-fiancée.” Axel intertwined his fingers with Kaidan’s before continuing. “We were...hmm… two years together by then? Things were really good between us. We were both on leave on Elysium and I decided to finally pop the question. But then after Elysium, we were on medical leave for a while. She sustained a few injuries while leading a group to safety while I covered the rear. I got shot in the shoulder, and the leg, nothing major but enough to have to be off for a bit.  I received my N7 commendation. It’s what I had always wanted.” Axel exhaled loudly as he remembered the events that took place that evening. 

He continued. “Kaidan you should have seen the fear in her eyes. I swear, it’s like she was seeing a monster instead of me. I went out that night to have some drinks with some buddies of mine, when I got back to the apartment… she was just gone. No message, nothing. A few days later-”

“I moved in.” Kaidan finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah.” Axel trailed his fingertips of his free hand on Kaidan’s arm absentmindedly. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Kaidan tightened his hold on Axel and rubbed one hand against his bicep to comfort him. 

“I know.”

“Explains an awful lot, though.” Kaidan’s breathy laugh tickled Axel’s ear.

“Sorry. I was pretty moody. I tend to...er...rebound after break ups too. Though normally I was the dumper not the dumpee…. Hmm... Derrick was a real piece of ass.”  Axel glanced at Kaidan as he remembered one partner he brought back to the apartment to see his reaction only to find his husband in shock. He tried to bite his lips, but failed miserably and the corner of his lips twitched.

It took a moment for Kaidan to realize what Axel meant and when the realization hit him, they both burst into laughing.

“He did have a nice ass.” Kaidan admitted. 

Axel inhaled deeply before exhaling just as sharply. “I guess I’ll drive you to work this morning so I can go pick her up at the spaceport.”

Kaidan could feel the nervousness coming from Axel, his biotic energy felt more like a hurricane mirroring his internal emotions rather than the usual stillness of calm waters Kaidan grew to know so well. Kaidan let go of Axel and sat on the seat next to him, “no need. I really told them I won’t be in today. I figured I should be there as well to pick up our daughter.” He took his mug in both hands raising it to his lips but kept his gaze on Axel to watch for his reaction.

“Shit. I’m still wrapping my head around the fact I have a daughter and you’re already saying ‘ours’” Axel rubbed his hands over his face.

Kaidan glided the datapad close to him and opened a new tab on the extranet.

“What if she hates me? I missed her birth. Hell, I missed nine birthdays, Kaidan. Nine. And I didn’t even have a fucking choice in the matter.” Axel voice raised a couple octaves and he stood up abruptly stabbing a finger against his chest. Kaidan didn’t need to look at him to know his corona was flaring, the crackling electricity of the air as he manipulated the dark energy that surrounded them was indication enough. 

“There’ll be an adjustment period. But I don’t think she’ll hate you.” Kaidan kept his eyes focused on the datapad. His voice was steady and calm as always. 

“That’s a huge assumption.” Axel’s tone was a little more accusatory than he would have liked. 

“Gut instinct tells me she didn’t have a choice either and might be looking forward to meeting you.”

"You know... that means I can't be naked around the house anymore." Axel said matter of factly in a more calmer tone. 

"Moot point. I was wondering why you were dressed for once." 

“Better start getting used to it. What are you searching for anyway?” Curiosity picked, and Axel leaned over to looks as he picked up his coffee once again to drink.

“Adoption papers. They take awhile to go through. Figured I’d get a head start on it.” Kaidan remained hyper focused on the task at hand.

“You really meant it did you? Our daughter.”  Axel put down his mug and it was his turn to wrap his arms around Kaidan’s shoulders.

"Yeah. Our daughter." Kaidan was hung up on that word.

"Huh. I guess so… ours." Axel kissed Kaidan’s temple before exhaling slowly and laying his chin on his husband’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Axel paced along the aisle of chairs in the waiting room, wringing his fingers together.

“Are all vanguards so antsy?” Kaidan chuckled as he leaned back into his chair. 

Axel paused into his steps to turn a scowl in Kaidan’s direction. “You don’t survive CQC as a Vanguard if you don’t move.” He said a little snippy. 

“Fair point. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Why don’t you sit down before you pave a hole on the floor?” Kaidan patted the seat next to him. 

Sighing, Axel sat next to him, but it did nothing to calm his nerves, rather his left leg was restless and moved involuntarily. 

Kaidan placed a hand on Axel’s knee and squeezed. “Breathe. It’s going to be… it’s going to be what it is.” 

“Why do you always have to say that?” 

Kaidan chuckled, but otherwise remained silent. 

Restless, Axel stood up and immediately began to pace again. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t seize and he was sure his breakfast would come up if he didn’t keep his mind occupied with counting steps. One, two, three, four...eight rinse and repeat. Eight seats in a row, plenty of room for cover if need be. 

“Dad!” 

A voice broke him out of his thoughts and he sharply turned to the direction he heard it come from. 

Two things immediately stood out: the first was Kaidan was immediately at this side and reached for his left hand, second was a little girl with sharp bluish-hazel eyes framed with freckles ran in his direction. 

Kaidan pressed his wrists against his, he knew this was for comfort as much as it was a check in for his pulse. Once a medic, always a medic. 

Kaidan pressed his wrists against his, he knew this was for comfort as much as it was a check in for his pulse. Once a medic, always a medic. 

“See. I told you it would be fine.” Kaidan lowered his voice so only Axel could hear him.

Surprisingly strong arms wrap around Axel’s waist and he is taken slightly aback for a brief moment, he was sure his eyes would fall out of their socket before he returned the hug while keeping hold of Kaidan’s hand. 

Bluish-hazel eyes looked up into his, pleading. “I’m ready to come home.” 

“Home. Yeah. Let’s go home” Axel exhaled, his lips curved slightly upwards, and a smile spread onto her face, and her eyes twinkled before she broke away.

A small hand grabbed his free one and she started leading the way, following the exit signs.

“Home.” Kaidan repeated the words, a smile on his face. He brought Axel’s wrist to his lips and kissed it, feeling his pulse against his lips, life. It pulses life. Life that had been taken away from him for two years, but now they had a lifetime to be together. Kaidan wrapped both his hands around Axel’s. “A lifetime of memories.” He whispered.

“What’s that, handsome?” Axel planted his kiss on the crown of Kaidan’s head.

“It’s nothing.” Yet it’s everything.

[hopelikethemoon]

First Day Back (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: First Day Back Rating: PG Length: 2000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set after Josie’s birth. Sorry for the delay in updating, you can read about it here.  Summary: Reader’s maternity leave comes to an end. 

@grapemama​​​​​ @seawhisperer​​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​​ @beccaplaying​​​​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​​​ @ham4arrow​​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​​ @hdlynn​​​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​​​ @randomness501​​​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​​​  @roxypeanut​​​​​ @snivellusim​​​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​​@ ​​​​​@awesomefandomsunited​​​​​​​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​​​​ @ah-callie​​​​​ @swhiskeys​​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​ @space-floozy​​​​ @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd​​​ @himbopoes​​​​​ @findhimfives​​​​​ @pedrosdoll​​​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​​​  @cinewhore​@random066​​​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​​​ @heather-lynn​​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​​ @cyarikaaa​​​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​ @yabby-girl​​​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​​ @punkass-potato​​​​ @coredrive​​​​ @pascalesque​​​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​​ @queenquazar​​​​​ @sabinemorans​​​​​ @buckstaposition​​​​​ @holkaskrosnou​​​​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​​ @jaime1110​​​​​ @katlikeme​

Going back to work after weeks of maternity leave was an adjustment. Leaving Josie across the hall with the kind older woman who had been your neighbor since moving to Colombia was easier than expected. At least it was, right up until the moment you sat down at your desk and realized it would be eight hours until you saw her again. 

Javier didn’t make it any easier. You had gotten too comfortable with him lately — which was easy to do, considering he frequently spent the night at your apartment and you had gotten used to waking up in his arms. But it also meant you were off your game. 

Your hopes that he would be on assignment when you started back in the office were quickly dashed when plans fell through and Javier was stuck at his desk across from you. 

Before Josie was born, you had gotten good at masking your emotions and framing your interactions with work-appropriate distance. Now you felt like every look set off a neon sign above your heads announcing what you were hiding. 

Javier was shit at hiding his soft smiles and lingering looks. The kind that made your cheeks warm and your heart flutter. 

“Welcome back.” Chris said flatly as he strolled into the office and threw his briefcase down on his desk. 

“You’re late.” Javier stated as he fed a new piece of paper into the typewriter. 

“Flat tire.” 

“Pissed anyone off lately?” You quipped, shuffling through a stack of files on your desk. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Chris sneered and muttered. “As if this day couldn’t get any worse.”

You snorted, “Happy to be of service.” Ever since Chris had been assigned to the office, you had butted heads with him. Before Josie, in those three awkward months before you told Javier about your pregnancy, things had been okay. 

It was clear Chris hated you, simply because you were a woman who had the job he wanted, but the depths of his hatred became more apparent when the news broke about your pregnancy and your job — as far as you knew — wasn’t up for grabs.

“Peña, how was your weekend?” 

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he looked up from typing. “Yeah.” He shrugged a shoulder. “How was yours?”

“Took my lady friend on a little trip.” Chris boasted as he sank down in his chair, stretching his arms out before tucking his hands behind his head. “You get any action, man?”

You focused on the form you were filling out to get your firearm certification approved again. 

“You know how it is,” Javier said vaguely as he shook a packet of cigarettes and tapped it against his palm. “I’ve been working a new informant.”

You knew it was a lie, but it didn’t change the fact that it didn’t sit well with you. Javier had been with you and Josie all weekend. The most action he’d gotten was when you both fell asleep on the sofa at noon because your daughter had decided to stay up the night before. 

There was no new informant, but your brain still came at you with — “What if there was?” 

“You’re a lucky bastard, Peña.” Chris drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, “I don’t seem to have the way with women that you do.”

“I wonder why.” You muttered as you signed your name on the bottom of the form and tucked it back into the folder as you stood up. “Anyone got any other forms that need to be processed? I’m taking this down to Betty.”

“I didn’t know you came back to be our assistant. Maybe this day isn’t fucked after all.” Chris smirked at you as he shuffled through his mess of a desk and tossed a file on top. “There.” 

You offered him a tight-lipped smile as you snatched it up, before turning towards a Javier. “Got anything?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he tucked a cigarette behind his ear. “I’ve got shit to take her before a meeting with the director. I’ll walk with you and catch you up on what you’ve missed.”

“Alright.” You tilted your head to the side as you met his gaze, keeping your expression as impassive as possible. “Hopefully I haven’t missed too much.”

“Same old, same old.” Javier pursed his lips as he got his files together and stood. “It’s nice to have you back in the office. Chris is shit company.”

“You know you love me, Peña.” Chris chided, already focused on whatever work he had piled up on his desk. 

“It’s good to be back.” You said casually, holding the folder against your chest as you walked along beside him. “You didn’t have to come with me.” 

Javier’s fingers curled around your elbow, making you stop now that you were out of earshot, “You know that there’s no informant. Right?” 

You blinked at him, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “Unless she’s hiding under my bed, I didn’t think there was anyone else.” You looked back down the hallway towards where the desks were, before looking back at him. “It’s fine, Javi.”

“Keeping this charade up—“

“Not now.” You scolded him, before starting back in the direction of Betty’s office. He was quick to catch up with you, falling into step beside you. “I just meant that I’ve had to keep up appearances here. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an adjustment.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “The last year has been an adjustment. But we’re doing what we can.” You held out your hand, “I’ll take the files to Betty for you.” 

Javier smirked at you, “Didn't need to take anything to her.” He told you as he sat the empty folder in your hand and used it as an excuse to brush his fingers over the back of your hand. “But I do have a meeting with the director,” He glanced at his watch. “In ten minutes.”

“See you later?” You questioned with a hopeful smile. 

“Wouldn’t miss it.” A faint smile crossed his lips, before he continued down the hall and around the corner towards the director’s office. 

 ——

 You hadn’t anticipated just how relieved you were to have Josie back in your arms after work. Luciana regaled you with details about the day — nap times, feedings, how curious Josie was about her nephew that she also watched. You had missed all of that and there was no way to get that time back. 

It helped put into perspective how Javier felt. He’d missed out on so much — during your pregnancy, during the birth, in the days and weeks that followed. You missed part of a day and you felt guilty over it. 

But you knew better than to expect that he’d ever talk about it. He tiptoed around the more difficult topics and you didn’t hold that against him. Your entire relationship was difficult and you didn’t see a path forward that made it easier.

Javier was stuck in a weird sort of limbo where he lived two very different lives. 

You cradled Josie against your chest as you peered through the peephole, before pulling open the door to let Javier in.

“There’s my girls,” He said warmly as he smiled at you, before looking towards Josie. “How did she do?”

“Luciana told me she was a dream to watch.” You offered, kissing the top of her head as she cooed softly. “I think we missed her more than she missed us.”

Javier’s hands went to his hips as he nodded his head, “Good.” He scrapped his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze darted back to meet your eyes. “How are you?”

“Tired.” You shrugged, before walking towards the sofa. “But I’m so glad that I’m back at work. I missed it.”

“It was nice to look across the office and see you sitting there,” Javier drawled out as he pulled off his leather jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa before he sat down beside you. 

“My firearms certification got approved.” You told him as you readjusted Josie in your arms so she could see Javier better. “I’ve got the course on Friday. I’m hoping that it means I have a chance to get back in the field… with you.” 

Javier’s lips drew upwards at the corners, “Yeah?”

“It’s one step in the right direction, at least.” You shrugged. “You wanna hold her?” He nodded and you shifted so you could settle her into his arms. “I think she missed you more than me.”

Javier chuckled, “I don’t know about that, baby.”

You grinned at him, “Look at the way she’s looking at you.” You pointed out, watching as Josie looked up at him with a wide-eyed and marveling gaze. “And I seem to remember the way she was always kicking when you were around.” 

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek gently, “Think we might have a daddy’s girl on our hands?”

“I know we do.” You slid your hand under his arm, curling your fingers around his arm at the elbow as you leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

You squeezed his arm three short times, “Yes.” 

Javier turned his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I won’t be here tomorrow night. I’ve got a lead to work outside of the city. I could swing by, but it would be late.”

“Javier?”

“Hmm?”

You played with the soft hair that curled around his ear, “I trust you.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up, baby.” Javier admitted. “This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.” He exhaled heavily as he stared down at Josie as she curled her fingers around his thumb and tried to suck on it. 

“I know.” You pressed your lips against the curve of his shoulder and let them linger there as you sighed. “But work comes first.”

Javier’s brows drew together, his lips moving like he meant to say something more than a simple, “Yeah.” 

You trailed your fingers back towards the nape of his neck, ruffling the hair there as you watched his face. “I don’t mind if you show up late.”

“I don’t want to wake you up.”

“I’m getting pretty good at surviving on limited sleep.” You whispered, nodding your head towards Josie as she was slowly batting her eyes up at both of you. “I should feed her and get her down for the night.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding. “I’ll go grab my bag out of the car.”

“Alright,” You said softly as you ran your hand down his arm and squeezed. “We’ll be waiting for you.” You promised as you took Josie from him. 

Javier rested his hand on your leg, giving it three squeezes before he hauled himself off the sofa. “We’re good, right?”

“Javi,” You shook your head incredulously. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

He shrugged, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m gonna go grab my bags.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him walk away, your heart aching just a little at how uncertain he still was in your relationship. You couldn’t blame him — you felt the same way most of the time, you just tried to ignore it. 

Going back to work would be an adjustment. Figuring out how to navigate the duality of your relationship — professional and private — would be a challenge. But it was worth it.