#he must have had such a hard time taking care of the cherubs :(

[ceabu]

It's so hard to parent when your own parent didn't parent you

ur also 16, isolated from ur friends, ur mind isnt ur own most of the time and ur life is a joke

[suntoru]

─ ✰ INVISIBLE STRING.

─ SYNOPSIS: the three times you coincidentally bump into toji fushiguro and the one time you find out it was intentional.

─ WARNINGS: 3.4k words!! not proofread, swearing, fluff, ooc toji?, mentions of a dildo, mild violence, creepy perv (not toji), BABY MEGSSS, idk i started yapping halfway through

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: GUYS I LOVE TOJI. I LOVE HIS SLUTTY WAIST. disclaimer i’m only like 6 episodes into jjk i apologize if the characterization is off!

— the first time your ever meet toji fushiguro is on a friday at 8PM. you don’t expect to be so downbad for somebody you just met, much less in a grocery store in your pajamas, but here you are. and fuck, he’s hot. he’s clad in a snug, black compression shirt that outlines his biceps so nicely and enticingly low-waisted white sweatpants that fall deliciously on his hips… compared to him, you look like a hobo in your ratty old pajamas. scratching your head in embarrassment, you instantly look away before he catches you staring— and thank god he speaks up, his voice interrupting your less-than-innocent thoughts.

“think that’s mine,” he motions casually to the black-haired cherub curled up in your arms. the little one’s eyes, swollen and red from the relentless wailing for his papa just seconds earlier now lights up immediately, adoration clear in his eyes. his tiny little arms outstretches towards toji in an adorable plea to be held. rolling his eyes, toji relents, scooping megumi up with one arm and securing him in his hold.

“cute kid.” you coo, ruffling the doe-eyed toddler’s hair affectionately.

“yeah… cute little brat,” he mutters in a low voice. “where’d you find him?” you giggle softly. “was in the toy section playing, noticed he was alone, then started to cry… be more careful next time, okay, ’gumi?” the child nods his head shyly, burying his face in his daddy’s chest. you wish that was you don’t u u horny degenerate /lh

“swear to god, he won’t listen to me when i tell him stuff. and he gets sad too easily, cries when he isn’t allowed to buy whatever he wants…” toji scoffs, pinching megumi’s cheek and a small whine escapes the toddler, effectively tugging at your heartstrings. what a cute little family.

“the mama must be real pretty; cause he certainly doesn’t take after his grumpy papa.” you lightheartedly joke, allowing the black-haired baby to toy with your fingers. “the mom’s out of the picture.” toji nonchalantly reveals, an unexpected hush falling over the conversation.

wide-eyed, you realize the awkwardness that your comment had caused. “i-i’m so sorry!! i didn’t mean to—” you stammer, feeling a pang of regret. “‘t's fine, shit happens.” he shrugs his shoulders ever so casually, dispelling the tension in the air. “it’s just me and this little gremlin here,” he adds, and despite his earlier insults towards the adorable baby, it’s crystal clear he loves him— even if he won’t readily admit it out loud. being a single dad… you can’t even imagine it. must be so hard…

you're so caught up in your feels that you don’t even notice when toji takes a peek into your grocery cart, a snicker escaping him. momentarily confused, you follow his gaze and then it hits you— oh no. what you originally came here to do, the reason you didn’t even have time to dress properly was because it was the last discount day for– looking down in horror, placed proudly, right on top of your cart, is an obnoxiously bright pink silicone dick.

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and a flush of embarrassment colors your cheeks as you fumble for words. “i-i… um… c-can explain!!” seemingly enjoying your flusteredness, he loses no time teasing you. "someone's clearly single." he remarks, a smug look plastered on his face. he snatches it out of your cart, dangling the object just out of reach– this bastard!! capturing megumi's attention, the innocent curiosity in his little mind interprets the funny-looking object as a potential toy, prompting him to reach out with grabby hands.

in a state of panic, you swiftly smack it out of toji’s hands, but you fail to realize there’s somebody in your way– you accidentally hit a balding, middle aged man square in the face with a dildo. a fucking dildo. letting out an audible gasp, you quickly turn away as the now angry man swivels around, searching for the perpetrator angrily. your efforts to stay inconspicuous prove futile as the 6'2 sorcerer can't contain his laughter, earning a few odd stares from shoppers passing by.

"it's not funny," you whine, feeling the heat creeping up to your face as he wipes away a tear, still clutching his stomach. he grins tauntingly, wholeheartedly amused.

"nah, that shit’s hilarious."

— “mama, mama!!” coincidence seems to strike once more, for your second encounter with toji fushiguro comes about a week later. you’re minding your own business in a neighborhood park, in the middle of texting your friend when little megumi joyfully latches himself onto your leg, gurgling happily, effectively scaring the shit out of you. safe to say, you're surprised— mommy? you'd met him once for thirty minutes and he's imprinted on you.

but you can't find it in yourself to be mad; he's practically looking at you with stars in his eyes. so you cave, crouching down to meet his height, patting his teeny tiny head gently.

"hi megs!! where's dada?" you question, and sure enough, the adorable little cherub points enthusiastically to his father, who happens to be engaged in conversation with two women. they’re giggling obnoxiously, stroking his biceps and being overly touchy, and he seems to be enjoying it. in an instant, all your former attraction seems to dissipate in an instant. an annoyed huff escapes you— of course, he's a manwhore. you should've known, he seems like just the type, but letting your kid leave your sight was just completely unacceptable.

feeling pissed, you can practically feel a vein bulge in your forehead. you’re going to knock some sense into that thick skull of his. scooping up megumi, you march up to toji, making sure to be extra cautious while holding him in your arms. what was he thinking? is it like this all the time? him getting distracted by a pair of tits and forgetting about his own son? seriously, this man needs to get his act together.

as soon as he’s in range, your free hand swiftly makes contact with the back of toji's head, letting out a loud ‘thwack’ noise on impact. he lets out a painful groan. "the fuck?" toji curses, rubbing the back of his head. unfazed, you return his sass with a stern expression.

"the hell do you think you're doing? talking to girls instead of taking care of your kid? no wonder 'gumi wanders off all the time, you didn't even notice he went missing! stop thinking with your dick all the time and start thinking with your head!!" you scold the older man as he scoffs. "me? you're one to talk, buying a rubber cock for your lonely ass. who the hell are you to judge my parenting?"

you're about to retaliate when the two girls exchange a glance, scowling in annoyance as they side-eye both you and toji. "y'know, if you were married, you could've just said so in the beginning." one of the girls pipes up as the other nods her head. "yeah, stop wasting our time loser, lets go." and before he can respond, they storm off dramatically. he rolls his eyes at them, sticking up his middle finger at their backs.

“whatever. they were bitches anyways. and you’re a real killjoy.” you flick his forehead lightly. “the fact that i, a complete random stranger, takes better care of this kid than you is quite concerning.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he mumbles snarkily, attempting to snatch megumi away from you. he can’t believe his eyes when the chubby little baby starts to tear up, clutching onto you tighter and repeating babbles of ‘mama.’ “megumi, get down from there!” toji hisses. “listen, ya little brat, that ain’t your momma.” glaring, you attempt to hand back the stubborn ‘brat’ to his father, but to your (and his) dismay, he continues to latch onto you with an iron grip. if you didn’t know any better, with how megumi was acting, you’d think toji had never dealt with a child before. all he did was glare daggers at the both of you; the longer the interaction went on, the more irritated he got. a scolding glare towards his son, then the stranger.

“for the last time, stop clinging to that woman! she isn’t your mother.” the poor baby’s eyes glass over, about to burst into tears as you rock him in your arms, letting out a huff in annoyance. “calm your whining. you think he’s going to listen if all you do is yell?”

“fine. i’ll just… pick him up then.” toji grumbled, looking annoyed as he bent over to retrieve his son from your arms. as soon as he picked him up, megumi began wiggling and trying to get away from his father. “stop that.” toji’s face was filled with annoyance as his son’s stubby little fingers wrap around your shirt tightly. he tries his best to be gentle as he pries the baby away from you, yet the little boy began to cry and reach for you. it was clear the youngest fushiguro had developed a strong attachment to you, the stranger who helped him once before.

“‘gumi…” you coo in the softest voice you can manage, pinching his cheek softly. “listen to dada, okay? i’ll buy you ice cream if you’re good.” at the sound of a frozen treat, he instantly stops crying and settles into his papa’s arms, gurgling happily. toji looks at you in utter shock; he lost count of the amount of times he had tried so talk some sense into his little son— but just once from some random stranger, he chooses to listen. the 6’2 sorcerer sighs in defeat, sending his baby another scowl.

clearly, megumi has no sense of loyalty.

— “well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re jus’ following me now.” for the third time, you guessed it: toji fushiguro. at this point, it was becoming harder to dismiss these encounters as mere coincidences; had the universe suddenly decide to play matchmaker?

“huh?” you scoff, glancing up from your notepad. of course, he had to choose this exact coffee shop to stroll into while you were on your shift. “i work here.” he eyes you cockily, emanating more of that stupidly hot confidence that somehow makes your heart beat just a little faster than it should.

“be honest— you really just got the job cause you heard i’d be here today.” deadpanning, you roll your eyes. he can’t be serious; he’s such a manchild. “yes, because you’re such a celebrity. where’s megs?” you question, noticing the absence of the adorable baby usually accompanied by his obnoxiously sexy father.

“daycare.” he responds with a lazy drawl, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers down your spine. he seemed engrossed with picking something at his nails, the nonchalant demeanor accentuating the sculpted lines of his features. "you know, it's a shame. you seem a lot less charming without a certain little one running around." you yawn, deliberately trying to piss him off.

as if challenging you, he straightens up, piercing grey eyes locked onto yours. leaning forward onto the counter, his proximity sparks something in your core— was he always this pretty? no wonder he’s popular. his lips look so damn kissable. (you wonder how they’d feel against your own.) your heartbeat picks up as you find yourself unable to keep eye contact, pupils darting elsewhere. you really hope your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“…u-um. your order?” he grins cockily, pulling back at your surrender. “an espresso. and here, the extra dollar's for you.” he casually tosses you a crumpled wad of cash, and at a glance, worth just a little over one dollar and fifty cents. …you can already sense a burgeoning headache destined to plague you by the end of the day.

“…just— whatever. keep the money. it’s on the house.” you groan, escaping from the dumbass man to the back to retrieve the coffee beans. as you scour the shelves stocked with coffee supplies, you attempt to find the espresso beans.

you thoughts, however, are interrupted when your coworker suddenly pops up, prompting an involuntary shriek and effectively scaring the shit out of you. she beams brightly, enthusiasm radiating from her as she clutches onto your arm, ignoring your reaction completely.

“that customer is just my type!! tall, handsome, hot… mind switching with me, please, please, pleeeeeease??” she begs, her eyes wide with desperation and in her best attempt to coax you. you end up relenting pretty easily— after all, you owe her for the numerous overtime hours she's covered for you, but you can't ignore the unmistakable pang of jealousy tugging at your heart. what’s wrong with you? you shouldn’t care, not in the slightest. shouldn't. he's a random stranger who you just so happened to bump into three times now. toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. but for some reason, you find yourself growing… attached.

your eyes follow your coworker, parading out of the storage room with her lips freshly glossed and a flirty smile on her face. a pang of annoyance prickles at you; you're sure he'll absolutely eat her up.

determined to distance yourself from the sight, you trudge over to the adjacent cash register, taking over for your fellow coworker's customer. a friendly smile graces the face of the person in front of you.

"hi." he smiles brightly, greeting you in a friendly manner. "can i get an iced americano?" you nod, ringing his order up. his request is met with a nod from you, and you smoothly proceed to ring up his order. the clinking of the coffee machine acts as a backdrop to the interaction, your mind momentarily distracted by the lingering sensation of unease in your stomach. once done, you serve the ice-cold drink to the customer, who happily takes it, eyes gleaming in satisfaction before winking charmingly.

"and an extra tip for the pretty barista." he says, his tone suggestive as he hands you a bill. is he... really hitting on you? the air thickens with an uncomfortable tension, and you mutter a somewhat awkward thanks, his smile widens, and he leans in, making you feel slightly uneasy.

"isn't this the part where you give me your number?" he teases, leaving a silent pause that hangs in the air. "uhm... i'm really sorry, but... uh-" before you can finish, he boldly grabs one of your hands from across the counter, getting a little too close for comfort. "no need to say anything, cutie. our lips can do the talking." the fuck is wrong with this creep?

you attempt to snatch your hand back, but his grip is like iron. panic starts to set in as beads of sweat form on your forehead. what are you supposed to do in this situation?

just as the tension becomes nearly unbearable, a large hand intervenes, firmly gripping the weirdo's collar. a hand you so thankfully recognize intervenes just in the nick of time. toji's voice, dripping with venom, cuts through the charged atmosphere.

"why the fuck are you touching my spouse?" his snarl, coupled with an ice-cold glare, sends shivers down even your spine. a plausible lie, and extremely believeable. the smaller man stutters, his eyes searching frantically for an escape from toji's wrath. "i-i, um..." he stutters, eyes looking frantically for help. without a moment's hesitation, toji forcefully drops the intruder to the floor, his intense glare bearing down on the now-submissive figure.

"next time, i'll make sure you pay for it." he warns with a chilling undertone, his voice resonating with a quiet but unmistakable threat.

— seven days after the incident, you find solace in a quaint bookstore, its ambiance offering a quiet and peaceful haven for your studying. you're deep in thought, productivity at an all time high. however, the tranquility is soon disrupted by the unmistakable bickering of a child, no older than two, engaged in what seems like a standoff with a fully grown adult. who in the hell would argue with a kid...?

suspiciously, you stand up, leaving your laptop unattended for a split second to take a peek into the book aisle where the sound was coming from. and just as you suspected; there stands toji fushiguro. you suppress a giggle seeing him all crouched over, a pissy expression on his face.

"ya little rat, go give this to y/n. mama. mama, y'hear?" he hisses under his breath, his words an amusing blend of authority and exasperation. he attempts to give a rose to the stubborn little cherub, who violently shakes his head in refusal. holding a book almost as big as himself, he stomps his tiny foot, lifting the curious george volume even higher, adorned with a big pout that adds an extra layer of adorableness to the scene. "i'll read to you later, so just-"

"well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re just following me now."

you quip, echoing the words he tossed your way exactly a week ago. a smug grin stretches across your face, savoring the sweet taste of his embarrassment. he whirls around, momentarily losing his cool, a curse escaping his lips as he throws his head back. is that a hint of pink dusting his cheeks? you can't help but revel in delight. and as if on cue, megumi beams at you, his small frame waddling towards you with unbridled joy as you scoop him up with ease.

"mama!!" he cheers as you ruffle his hair playfully before turning your attention back to the other 6'2 baby towering over you. "looks to me like you're the obsessed stalker." you tease, a genuine grin stretching across your face. wiping a mock tear from your eye, you catch a glimpse of toji's eye roll, his attempt to feign composure failing as a trace of a pout plays on his lips.

"shuttup," he groans, rubbing the back of his head. he attempts to use this banter as a distraction, sneakily concealing the gift behind his back. but you're not one to be outplayed.

"not so fast..." you grin, skillfully snatching the crimson rose from his grasp before he can offer any protest. it's undeniably pretty, and you find yourself admiring it, a soft smile playing on your lips. you glance back at toji who, now hands tucked into his pockets, deliberately avoids eye contact. "never knew you were much of a charmer." you playfully jest, twirling the delicate flower between your fingers as a teasing smile graces your lips.

"i'm not." he shrugs, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. you set megumi down, allowing him to gleefully grab another dr. seuss picture book.

"awww, so then am i just special?" you snicker, lashes fluttering softly, the lighthearted banter echoing through the quiet aisles of the bookstore. perhaps a little too loudly, as an employee, with an air of rudeness, suggests that all three of you should be a little more discreet before you're escorted out.

apologizing profusely, you struggle to contain your laughter as the employee, irritated by the disturbance, makes a dramatic exit. unbeknownst to him, however, a janitor quietly mops the floors right behind him— resulting in an unfortunate slip and a rather audible rip as his pants succumb to the unforeseen mishap. your face turns pink, and you bite your lip, desperately trying to stifle your laughter to avoid drawing further attention and the risk of being kicked out.

you manage to slap toji's mouth shut, a preemptive measure against the impending witch cackle that could escape if left unchecked. the employee shoots both of you one last glare, clearly unimpressed, before huffing and storming off in a hasty retreat.

exchanging a knowing glance with toji, you finally peel your hand off his mouth, the quiet snickering between you two escalating into unrestrained laughter. as the atmosphere gradually settles, you can't help but notice toji's intense gaze fixed upon you, a look that goes beyond mere amusement.

it's a gaze so deep, so penetrating, that it seems to hold an enchantment of its own. in that moment, you feel like the protagonist in a love-struck tale, caught in the gaze of someone who sees more than just the surface.

toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. …but… you think you can manage.

and so you find your arms slinking around his waist, a huge, unwavering grin plastered on your face. "you're such a baby, y'know? if you liked me you could've just asked for my number." he grumbles under his breath, yet tugs you closer to his body warmth. rolling his eyes, he flicks your forehead, lips curving up into a smile. "you're the worst."

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[shaisuki]

“suguru...”

the name came out of the blue. your eyes closed and your head slumped to his chest. you're wasted. barely making coherent words but the the name came in perfect. he supports you with his arms. saving you from the demise of falling face first. he hears a sniffle then it was followed by burst of tears in your eyes. looking at him in a haze where you began to grab his cheeks. your body sways and he steadies you in his strong arms.

"careful." he mumbles and then you're out of cold. he smiles at your drunk form. scooping you in his arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"let's get you home." he says before walking towards the exit.

he gently place you in the bed. removing your coat and placing it in the chair before your shoes followed suit. he runs cold water in a small towel.

he looks at your sleeping form. how much did you change in the last years? you're not your old self anymore but your soft features remains. the dimple in your cheek where it sinks when you smile. he missed you smiling.

he sits down in your bed. the mattress dips from his added weight. wipes the sweat in your forehead, the dried tears in your cherubic cheeks and the stain of booze in the corners of your mouth.

he wasn't doing good in cleaning you up. taking care of someone. his lips forms into a thin line. you look so peaceful in your sleep and it's been a long time since he had seen you so serene, calm like you didn't carry the burden of your world.

gojo couldn't help but to bitterly smile at the name you were calling earlier. there's no way you could have mistaken him for another but with the influence of the alcohol. he understands.

he can't speak of it no more. it seems taboo. one could be cursed when he speaks the name of his deceased friend. your lover. he didn't look like suguru a bit. they were like day and night. the sun and moon.

he don't have suguru's hair. no ounce of coal-colored strands in his hair. it's white. snow white. no purples in his eyes instead he have the deep cerulean eyes of his whole holds the strongest power in the universe.

you shift in your sleep and gojo looks at you. sees a tear falls out in your eyes and he catches it with his index finger. it must have been so hard for you. to lost your other half who loves you truly.

you're good at hiding your sadness. your frustration, the disappointment of not being able to protect who you deeply loved.

then gojo realizes. you've been holding it for too long. gojo could applaud for how good you are at hiding it. the smiles you give to others but it doesn't reach your eyes. the abuse of body. empty wrappers of fast food flowing out of your trash bin. drown yourself in the pleasure of alcohol. a temporary escape for everything.

the suicide missions. where he finds you lying on shoko's table or a frantic call from ijichi.

you hadn't moved on. drowning yourself in work and the feelings still unreciprocated. gojo said he'll wait for you. mend the broken pieces of your heart but can it be mended when it's long gone?

he finds himself taking care of you. a feat he never bothered with anyone. he gazes at you. the years piling up on you.

"what have you done, suguru." he badly wants to ask his friend who left you.

he grabs your hand in his. feel the softness of your hand in his roughed hands. it's warm. you were the breath of life in suguru's. he remembers the nights with drinks in their hands. suguru would talk about you fondly. a new kind of smile in suguru's face with your name in his lips.

now, it was left of unshed tears. the words you could never say in your right mind. it hurts. it hurts everywhere.

gojo shouldn't be affected by this. he got things to worry about but when he sees you. it's a reminder he still have you and it's not the end of suguru's absence.

"fuck you, suguru."

time couldn't heal the damage that had been done. it will haunt him and you with the ghosts of the past.

your eyes flutters open, you find gojo holding your hand.

"i'm sorry, satoru. i shouldn't have dragged you into this." the tears streaming down in your cheeks.

he kisses your knuckles, wipes the tears in your cheeks and he leans forward. kissing your forehead.

"it's not your fault, (y/n)." he assures you. his face softening while gazing at you. it's not your fault. you learned to love and suguru returned it.

he says, love is most twisted curse of all. you cursed yourself with it for suguru. he finally understands why he didn't cursed suguru at the end but he don't have an explanation for it.

for the strongest like him, he exorcised the toughest curses and humans alike and yet, he couldn't shield himself from cursing himself to you.

if loving you is being cursed, then so be it. he don't care even it lasts for a lifetime.

[lace-coffin]

Hi, I hope you're doing well, but can I request a headcanon where Bubba had a bad day and was a little sad and S/O starts giving him kisses and hugs to make him feel better. I like your blog so much!

Thank you so much for your sweet words! I’m glad your enjoying my stuff < 3

Reader comforting Bubba on a bad day

Gn!Reader x Bubba Sawyer

Requests are open!

You can see it in the way her shoulders sag like the weight of the world is being held on them, more out of it than usual and despondent. Even people as upbeat as bubba have bad days.

Unsurprisingly being the main bread (or meat lmao) winner for the family can be a big job, mentally and physically. He knows he’s doing it for his family, they need to eat, it’s not optional with the limited resources they have but..sometimes it’s so hard to disconnect from the people they kill. despite only being meat to the sawyer’s, bubba knows that they’re a loved to someone else, a sister, a mother, a new dad maybe.

They understand the weight of loosing a loved one, the entire family essentially falling apart at the seams when nubbins passed. It makes her sick knowing she’s responsible for the same heartache she’s experienced first hand. But is it truly her fault? Without him providing food his family will starve and he can’t bare to loose anyone else.

On days like these it’s best to keep her distracted, play games with the family if you can convince Drayton to begrudgingly join in. (He’ll do it for bubba but won’t admit it) preparing meals for him is a good idea, she’s unable to even look at the meat knowing the origin of it when she’s feeling like this. Try to make dinner more vegetable based on these days, you can even harvest the vegetables from the garden as an activity to take her mind off it. Don’t let chop help though unless you want to watch him throw dirt at his little sibling. He’ll clear off if you threaten to put an earthworm in his plate lol.

Insist on helping them with the dishes in the evening, dancing stupidly to music on the old crackly radio as you scrub. Thank him for his help and place little kisses on his cheeks, basking in his warmth like you’re the only two people in the world. safe in the sanctuary of the kitchen.

This regularly leads to clumsily slow dancing to unfitting music on whatever station you found first. Neither of you actually know how to slow dance, more just leaning into eachother and waddling side to side but you don’t care enough to learn, just happy to be held.

Eventually it’s time for bed, both of you exhausted, you from doing the brunt of the housework and bubba carrying that post depression exhaustion. Undoing the mask comes next, it’s not an easy feat. Bubba isn’t sure whether she feels more or less herself in the mask, unable to express herself without but bound to one expression in.

Gently pry the mask off and sit in front of the mirror with them, walk them through your favourite parts. Trace the bump of his nose, slightly crooked from a tussle with a victim, never quite healing right. Cup his warm full cheeks and dust them with kisses and praise. Tease your thumb over her plump lips, tell her they remind you of a cherub, sent from heaven just for you.

If you can love bubba than there must be something worth loving about himself, he thinks.

Being the big spoon is a good idea in these moments, let them feel small and protected under you, tracing over their curves and freckles gently, making them whine and shiver. She’ll never completely forgive herself for the things she’s done but it helps that you see beauty in her, the love, the compassion, the emotion. She just wishes she could see those things in herself on hard days.

For now this is enough, the coziness of your body blending into his until it’s unidentifiable where you begin and bubba ends. In some ways it already feels like you’re becoming part of eachother the longer you bond and the deeper you fall. You fall asleep after whispering a hushed “I love you” into their hair and receiving bubba’s sleepy equivalent of the same. Today was tiresome but the sun will rise again over the homestead, bathing the two of you in warm light and readying you for another day in eachother arms.

[homestuck-loving]

hhh can't see the dates on the post but if u r still here - can i get some caliborn x reader hcs? yeah, i'm over here in 2022 going like "hear me out"

-☁️

Cloud Anon, I don't know if you're still out there but this is for you. I got a little carried away with this. What can I say, Caliborn's fun to write.

This is apart of the Caliborn redemption AU I had going on I guess. Enjoy!

Caliborn x Reader Hcs!

The two of you met when he had messaged you. Calling you and your friends crude names and drawing “lewd” pictures. Unlike your friends, you decided to humor this “undyingUmbrage.”

Through many stubborn chat logs, you’ve learned that his name is Caliborn and that he’s pretty insufferable. Somehow, you looked past his unsavory behaviors and continued to chat with him. 

Caliborn’s messages started as mean spirited and almost cruel. After some time of chatting and playing the game, it almost seemed like he started to mellow out.

Fast forwarding through sburb shenanigans, you’ve ascended to god tier. The final fight is drawing near. Caliborn had stopped pestering you a bit ago. He claims that there’s something he must finish. You’ve collected your belongings and prepared to fight.

Suddenly, a light flashes behind you. Red gears click together as a figure begins to form. A grating voice laughs. “Finally, the Lord makes his appearance!” 

Caliborn joined you in fighting, though he claimed it was purely for his enjoyment. Once the game has been won and Earth C has been created, everyone begins to find their place.  

On Earth C, everyone had each other, living arrangements were made easy. Though, with everything Caliborn had done, he had nowhere to go. Against your mind’s logical side and your friends’ warnings, you decided to let Caliborn stay with you.

In the beginning, he was terrible to live with. He couldn’t keep a job, he never cleaned up after himself, and he was incredibly rude.

He seemed to walk all over you with pride. Though one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. Never in the years of knowing the cherub did you ever express anger towards him. To hear you yell at him and be angry, something changed in Caliborn.

Waking up the next morning, your house had been cleaned up. It wasn’t perfectly tidy but it looked like you were the only one to live there. Upon asking Caliborn about it, he brushed you off.

“As if I’d do anything for your pleasure. You can pleasure yourself for all I care. Why are you laughing?! No! Not like that! It was a figurative speech!” 

After that, he never really seemed to leave you alone. When going out, he’d always walk next to you. He takes any seat available near you. He’s even started eating meals with you. 

One day, you were hanging out with Dirk and he had a few questions.

“So, when’s Caliborn taking you out on a date?”

“Why would we go on a date?”

“Are you two not dating?”

From that day, you’ve begun to look at Caliborn's actions differently. Before you had the chance to ask about his behavior, he had barged into your room. Not saying a word, he threw a bundle of crumpled flowers and a crudely drawn card at you, followed by him slamming the door shut. 

Seems like you’ll have to be the one to take him on a date.

And now a few Redrom headcanons:

Caliborn claims to hate affection. However, you don’t miss the times when he sits so close that your thighs touch. He also has an affinity for climbing into your bed late at night. Don’t question him about it though, he will get snappy.

He’s pretty short as a cherub, coming up to under your shoulders. He does like being carried around, though only in the privacy of your own home. That’s a bit too risque for his tastes.

He finds the concept of kissing weird and gross. In place he’ll bonk his head into your body. 

Hair is something that intrigues Caliborn. If you let him, he’ll mess with yours for hours. Though he is quite heavy handed.

Caliborn is prone to jealousy. Old habits die hard, he’s not above threatening peoples’ lives. But he's kinda working on it.

If you wish to hold him, introduce it slowly. Most affectionate gestures are completely lost on him.

[ducissa-animi]

Why the crowns dont sing?

Part 14

The tasks of Heaven are so many that if something were to go wrong, it could affect the entire galaxy; the angels are assigned tasks and arms to perform they.

However, there are favorites of the boss among billions of workers, the archangels were offered gifts that would help carry out their errands. Raphael fulfills a very important role among humans, taking care of the health of his dear people, but he could not handle all of Gabriel's paperwork and despite the fact that he did not want his position, he yearns for his great gift, dividing his being into thousands of him. same. What good Rapha likes the most is that each part can act like Gabriel himself if you train it well...sometimes they have flaws, eat too much or sleep, what matters is that each of them do their job them. A not so unique person, the other angels can divide his spirit but not his body, they can witness people in thousands of them, but they will never have a conscience of their own. Zadkiel suggested taking advantage of the gift and demanding that the father give them that gift too, since he has to guide people, protect people, train angels and go to battles that when he takes a break, they call him again. Azrael can do something similar, but not by a gift, but by training his conscience that he developed by seeing Abel and another human from another region dead at the same time. However, his visits to Earth fill him with anecdotes and gossip that reach Miguel's ears first of all.

-Look, I have something to tell you about, you're going to love it. I met Gabe on a small island when I went to pick up a rich guy with a good character.

-Sorry, what did you say?

-That I went to pick up a rich man?

-No, more before.

-That I ran into Gabe on my morning walk?

-It can't be, you don't have permission from the authorities to go there, I didn't get any report from the seraphim court.

-I think you should let him go for today, that is, the same routine must bore him and you know that you can be talking to him without it being him.

-I can't let it go by itself, we don't have the power to go down and make a human life as if the gates of Heaven were not guarded by Cherubs. They will accuse me if they find out.

-I'll take care of the matter. I can say that he helped me with orders.

-You don't have to risk it Az, the last time they saw a mistake in you, they took your wings and banished you for 500 days and that was a simple mistake. Imagine what they'll do to you when they find out you're lying to them, Raziel will want to take your brain out. So what do you suggest doing?

-I must go up and confess to the ministry of Gabriel's mistake, that I am going to Earth to bring him back. Take care of the scale while I'm away, I'll see you later.

-Okay, who's next?

Even being the prince of Heaven, he cannot go to Earth without a large scroll sealed by the minister Seraphim that lets him go down with a good excuse and later God himself will find out about this, on the contrary, they will punish him for breaking laws. Fortunately for him, that Serafin is an old friend of his who for Michael would be totally corrupt. ...

Going to Heaven becomes hard when crossing the atmosphere, the feathers of our angels are wounded and later become ash even though they are synthetic.

For each angel's upbringing, a tutor older than that angel is assigned, who teaches his apprentice about life and gratitude towards his true father.

Among the thousands of archangels, 1% of them were left alive after the great battle of Heaven, 28% of them joined Lucifer in search of the truth and 32% were lost in the course of the war, thrown to the great abyss that threatens all the angels with a concurrent attack, putting them together with Raziel's twin brother and his blind demons. The rest lie dead.

That 1% was made up of 7 archangels, the rest of their equals are not because they have other positions that put them below the lords of vital balance.

The archangels who were faithful, had a worse fate than all those who disappeared from God's sight, their conscience was removed from their actions, therefore, they cannot think if something is right or wrong, they simply act under orders that If they came to think again, a war would return whose white pieces of God would become black in opposition to it.

Slowly, those times come, but God will not allow all his white pieces to become black because some wanted it that way.

Right now, the direct successor of God is Jesus, but the same almost-god is Miguel, the key piece that will give a total counter to the rebellion, even if his most loved ones interfere in his way, starting with his own son, his blood, his lineage and his offspring, but that blood is not pure and therefore killing him was his only salvation.

While the floors of Heaven were as white as the snow itself, some little claws could be heard like the heel of a heel when walking.

-I don't owe you any apology if that's why you brought me here -they both stopped their walk and in a fleeting movement the hard hand of the blue eye framed Gabriel's neck due to the force it gave.

-Repeat it again and I will make ashes to each one of your white blonde hair .. and they will spread like dust.

"You know something? These white blonde hairs are the ones you're excited to pull out." His neck felt a relief when he let go of her neck and let it fall.

-Silent Gabriel, you put our feathers at risk; This is not the place for your stupidities.

The first floor feels as cold as ice itself, the soles of angels turn red when touched, except for those who inhabit the first heaven, in their Liwet invented leather boots with unicorn skin.

-Good day!

-How are you?

-Good feathers, they look as young as if they were done yesterday!

-Good morning, you guys look wonderful! The little angels as friendly as ever.



Offering mana everywhere.

They are busy little angels but also well rested, with full stomachs and joyous joy at all things.

Leaving the first Heaven was not easy, but reaching the Fourth Heaven was a severe confrontation. ...

Gabriel's feathers were combed with lynx hair brushes, dressing him in the finest silks on Earth, bathing his body with dew and adorning his head with daisies.

-You should let your commoners bathe you at least, you smell like rotten blood for about 5 months.

-And neglect my pride? Never

-Then bathe yourself, I have to bear sitting at your right side all the courts. Raphael is not affected by being your left hand, from so much fish that he eats safely he does not even realize it.

-Leave your ñañaras, the war has no time for showers, you never went to a war.

-Of course I did, and in most of yours, I was always there taking care of your back, me, at least I bathe.

-They bathe you, disgusting.

[cazimagines]

Perfectly Exasperating - Chapter 3

Synopsis: While you have been unknowingly kidnapped Zemo is determined to make the time he spends with you the best that he can

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: Hey all! This is sorta a one-month celebration of my account and for all the love you guys have shown this series and my other series 'A Freudian Slip' I can't thank you enough! My editing program decided to screw me over though so if you can see a difference grammatically in the first half and the second half that's why

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the warmth from the sun shining through the curtains touching your skin waking you up. Yawning and stretching, feeling the soft duvet move on top of you, you sighed in content, closing your eyes again as you embraced the happiness which had been foreign to you for so long. You reach out to seize the end of the duvet and gradually slide out of the bed; you feel the slight chill of the morning breeze brush against your exposed legs. Crossing over to the wardrobe your hand reaches out to flick through the many dresses, shirts, trousers that hung in there, all belonging to shops such as Gucci, Prada, Valentino. There were clothes appropriate for any event, but today you choose comfortably as you pull out a maroon knitted sweater and dark blue jeans. Though appearing to be rather cheap clothes, you knew Zemo would never have spent less than $100 on them.

When Zemo said he would take care of you, he meant it in every aspect. It was a culture shock going from the relatively poor life you lived, surviving off the small amount of money they paid you for being an Avenger to being treated like royalty by Zemo. Not that you were complaining. It was a guilty pleasure of yours enjoying this luxury, a part of you hoping it would never end. If you had told yourself just a few weeks ago, you would have enjoyed living with Zemo you would have laughed in your face but that man had certainly turned on the charm and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest big thankful for him for everything he has done for you.

You finally leave the confines of your room, something you had only been allowed to do a few times until today. You convinced Zemo yesterday that you weren’t concussed from when John had hit you with the shield and that you would be fine getting up and walking around. He was still hesitant but knew he couldn’t keep you confined in your bed forever.

You close your eyes as you inhale the sweet smell of cooking pancakes, making your stomach grumble greedily. Following the scent, you work your way down through the interior design living room into the lavish kitchen where Zemo currently had his back turned to you as he attempted to flip the pancake he had in the frying pan. His purple turtleneck sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms as they tensed, trying to get the timing right to flip the pancake. He does so with perfect accuracy, the golden brownness of the pancake soaring up into the air and landing back down in the frying pan, sizzling.

Zemo giggles to himself, celebrating his minor achievement as he waves the frying pan, his body swaying along slightly with it.

“That smells heavenly,”

Zemo whips around at hearing your voice pierce the air. “Ah y/n! Please, take a seat while I make breakfast,”

His eyes follow you as you take a seat down at the table he had prepared for this morning, then focus back on the breakfast at hand. You pour out some orange juice Zemo had left on the table, then your gaze flickers back to him as he finishes cooking. He stacks the pancakes onto two plates and grabs some sugar, maple syrup, and lemons out of the shelves, giving you a choice of toppings.

You scoff as he turns around, seeing on the apron he had tied around himself the words ‘kiss the chef’ on it.

“Really?” you ask, raising the glass to your lips as you watch him glance down to his apron and then back up to you offended.

“You don’t like?”

“It’s embarrassing to look at!” you exclaim as he places the plates down on the table and sits down opposite you.

Zemo’s eyebrows twitch as he scoffs back at you, “I think it suits me, plus a kiss is expected after I worked so hard on breakfast” he says, tapping his cheek with his finger.

You raise an eyebrow, letting a breath out as you laugh, “Yeah, in your dreams,”

You two settle into a comfortable silence as you readily eat the breakfast he made. The pancakes were soft but delicious, sickeningly sweet but you have always had a sweet tooth and so it seems, does Zemo.

“I thought you would have one of your staff make breakfast, you never struck me as the person to do something yourself when you can make others do it,” you say breaking the silence as you finish the last of your pancakes.

Zemo glances up to you, tilting his head, “Why do you think that? Because I grew up rich?”

You nod, not attempting to make yourself sound nicer, “Yes. It’s common knowledge the rich are always spoilt”

His lips twitch up into a smile at your bluntness. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs as he addresses you.

“You’re right. Even though Sokovia was a rather small country, I grew up with more riches than most people could dream of. But at least I acknowledge my privilege. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Depending on what you use your privilege for. Blowing up the UN isn’t exactly putting it to good use now stop avoiding my original question,”

Zemo bites the inside of his mouth as you see through his attempts at trying to dodge the question. His admiration for you however outweighed any annoyance he might have felt at being called out for it. Leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table he says,

“It’s only me, you and my Butler who occasionally comes in. After I was arrested, there was no work for my staff so they all left and I can’t exactly hire anyone else,”

You nod, satisfied, then dab the napkin that Zemo has set out beside you, on your lips to get rid of any leftover sugar. You place your hands on the table and push yourself up from it.

“Well, thank you for breakfast, and thank you for looking after me this last week… that was nice of you, but I better be going. Do you know where my phone is?”

Zemo’s eyes furrow and he immediately stands up as you walk away from the table. He rushes past you, stepping in front of you to stop you from walking.

“You can’t leave y/n,”

Your head jilts back in confusion, “Why not?”

“We ruined Karli’s plans, so she is trying to find us. That’s why Sam and James are out hiding and why we must remain here,”

“I can handle Karli,” you tell Zemo, trying to step past him, but his hand reaches out and grasps your arm firmly.

“Not a super-soldier y/n. It’s too dangerous, especially after your recovery. James and Sam will reach out to me once it is clear to leave, but for now, we stay.”

You huff in frustration, shaking Zemo’s hand off your arm as you cross them. “Well, at least get me a phone so I can keep in contact with them too,”

“I’m afraid I can’t get you a phone currently, but you are welcomed to use mine. Alas, James and Sam have my number but I don’t have theirs’s so unless you remember their numbers we have to wait till they message first to reach out to them,”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, rolling your head looking to the side of the room then back to Zemo.

“So what the hell am I to do to keep occupied?”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes flicker to the side in thought as he opens his mouth wordlessly and his eyes move back to yours, his eyebrows raising as he frowns thinking over the idea that has just entered his head.

-

With his fingers, Zemo, gazing at you eagerly, beckoned you down the corridor, towards a giant door that was at the end.

“I’m not a dog Zemo” you complain as you follow him

“Have you ever heard of dramatic effect?”

Zemo had taken off his apron and replaced it with that coat he loved to wear so much. You firmly believed it gave him a power complex. He strutted to the end of the hallway and placed his hands on the door. His face turns to you smirking, enjoying this dramatic pause as you roll your eyes at him. He pushes the door open and stands to the side, sweeping his arm across the space to let you in.

You walk past him and your eyes widen in amazement as you walk into the most magnificent library you had ever seen. The room itself stretched out almost further than you could see, seeming to go on and on. The shelves looked like they reached up to the sky, each one stacked with thousands of beautiful hardback books. The design of it looked like you had just stepped into heaven, with white and gold being the main colour scheme. On the ceiling was a painted sky with the gods on, looking down at you. On the pillars separating the shelves were little cherubs, their bows positioned to pierce your heart. Everything about this library was beautiful. It felt like a library that should belong to a museum not kept in this private mansion.

“You see why the dramatic effect was necessary?” Zemo says stepping up beside you, looking out at the shelves before you.

“Zemo this is… this is beautiful,”

His eyes flicker to you then back to the library, a smile appearing on his lips, “Yes, I suppose it is. When I was younger, I had always taken things like this for granted, but after my time in prison I believe it’s made me more humble,”

You walk over to the nearest bookshelf, letting your fingers brush over the colourful hardbacks. You pull one book out, stroking the golden platted side. “You must have every practically every book in existence here”

“I have more books than I could ever get round to reading. You can find anything you want to read here,”

After ten minutes you had gathered a rather sizable book pile you were determined to read, full of fictional and non-fictional books, some of your favorites and some you had never read before.

Zemo chuckled as you tried to hold all of them in your grasp. As you picked one up, the book on the very top of your pile slipped and fell to the floor. Panic surged in you, worried you would damage something so expensive, but Zemo’s hand appears and catches it before it could hit the ground.

Straightening up, he gave you an amused smile, “Maybe you should let me help carry them”

Accepting his help, he takes half the book pile off you and guides you over to a place deep in the library where you two could read. There were two light green armchairs facing each other, with a fireplace just behind them. To the side of the chairs were small tables which contained bookmarks, a goblet, and an ashtray, and to the side of one chair was a globe which could be opened, and inside it held a decanter full of whiskey.

Zemo places the books in his arms on the table then walks over to one shelf, browsing till he finally finds the book he was looking for. He returns to find you getting comfortable in your chair, opening the first book.

“Whisky?” he asks, opening up the globe beside him.

A few days ago you would have said ‘no, no way,’ but today you smile and nod your head, reaching out with the glass beside you to gracefully accept the drink.

-

The next couple of days were spent similarly with you and Zemo spending much of your time reading in the library together. Occasionally you two would even read to each other as he had first done with you when you had woken up here. Though you would never admit it to him, his smokey voice made you very comfortable. If he tried, he could lull you to sleep with that accent of his.

You couldn’t help but try to separate the Zemo you know now as the one you used to hate. Yes, he had torn apart your family, but he had all the reason for what happened to Sokovia, what happened to his family. Plus, this Zemo seemed to try hard to make it up to you. Almost too hard. He was trying everything to keep you entertained while you were stuck here, make your life as comfortable as he could. It was nice.

You strolled into the kitchen hearing the quiet buzz of the radio playing the latest top hits and the sound of someone humming along to the music. In there you find Zemo by the counter, fixated on the bowl he held in his arm and the spoon in his hand as he delicately tries to put the mixture into the cupcake trays before him. You had offered to make food, feeling like he always did too much for you but every day he insisted he would, even on days where it Butler would come around.

“Need help?” you ask, walking over to stand beside him.

He glances at you, then back to the tray he has laid out before him. “I’ve got a handle on this,” he replies just as he spills some mixtures onto the counter, making him swear under his breath.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you say, looking down at the spilled mixture. You turn to face him, letting out a chuff as you place a hand on his arm, “Zemo stop being so prideful and let me help”

As soon as your hand comes in contact with his arm, he freezes. He glances down at the ground, swallowing then his eyes flicker to yours and he smiles gently, his usual arrogance disappearing. “Okay,”

You grab a spoon from the draw and help Zemo scrap off what he puts into his spoon into the cake tray with accuracy. You two stand together, your shoulders brushing up against each other till you finish and put it into the oven.

“We have 30 minutes until we need to get them out. Why don’t you read for a bit while I clean up,”

“I can help clean up,” You tell him already going over to the sink to turn the water on, “You’re not my servant Zemo,”

“Helmut” he suddenly says

You turn back to look at him, confused at the seriousness of his face, “Please y/n, call me Helmut,”

Your mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, then you say, “Helmut,” trying the name out on your tongue. You were so used to calling him Zemo, you had forgotten that that wasn’t his first name.

“Thank you” he whispers, glancing away from you bashfully.

He takes a towel off the side of the rail and dries up everything you washed as you two settled into a peculiar silence.

Attempting to liven the atmosphere again, you put a cup just at the right angle of the running tap that the water splashed into Zemo’s coat. He steps back shocked, glancing down at his coat then back to you. He lets out a laugh, his mouth open in surprise that you would do that. “Oh, if that is how it is”

Zemo quickly grabs a mug, running it under the following water. Realizing what he was going to do you let out a squeal and rush for the door but you don’t get far enough till you feel the water hit your back, soaking your t-shirt.

“Helmut!” you gasp as he chuckles at you. You run forward to grab the nearest thing in front of you to chuck it at him, a piece of bread in this case but he ducks as it flies over him. He fills the cup up again and runs towards you but you get to the table and hide on the other side till you were both poised opposite each other waiting for one of you to make the first move.

“This isn’t fair!” you whine, feeling the coldness of your t-shirt cling to your back. “Who said anything about fairness!” Zemo shouted back, grinning at you.

Eventually, you two called a truce when the oven chimes letting you two know the cupcakes were finished baking. After that day, Zemo always asked if you wanted to help him make meals.

-

“Is the popcorn ready?” you shout as you jump up from the floor where you were placing the DVD into the DVD player.

“Almost done” Zemo calls out.

While waiting, you settle yourself down on the middle of the red sofa, twisting your back to get that perfect spot as you stared up at the giant screen in front of you.

Zemo emerges from the kitchen holding the popcorn and places the bowl onto the table in front of you. He settles down beside you, instantly positioning his arms on the top of the sofa, resting behind your head.

He leans forward to pick up some of the popcorn, tossing it in his mouth as he asks you what you have chosen to watch tonight.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you say excitingly and Zemo coughs, leaning forward as he accidentally inhaled the popcorn in his mouth.

He wipes the tear from his eye as he leans back and you give him a confused look, “Do you not like the film?”

“No-no, it’s not that. W-why do you want to watch the film?”

“It’s my favorite Disney film,”

He nods his head slightly looking down at the popcorn, “I see…” he then glances back to you, looking you in the eyes, “Why is it your favorite Disney film?”

You lean back sighing as you think the movie over, “Well, I’ve loved it since I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Bell and I found the beast so sweet and gentle”

“Even though he imprisoned her?”

“He let her go in the end, and she came back to him”

Zemo opened his mouth wanting to say more, but you sushed him as the movie started, wanting to concentrate only on it.

Zemo turned down the lights to make the experience feel as cinematic as he could of you. Grabbing the bowel he offered you some of the popcorn and you smiled at him in thanks. He tried to enjoy the movie, but his eyes kept wandering back to you, watching your expressions as you watched the movie. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed at it when that gorgeous smile would grace your face, even in the sad moments where it looked like you were about to cry. He loved seeing how you reacted to everything. There were so many things he had taken for granted, and it felt like he was discovering them all over again with you. It fascinated him to find out the beauty and the beast was your favorite film. It was almost ironic given your current situation, one of which you remained painfully unaware of. He knew he couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. Sam and James were bound to discover where you two were eventually, which is why he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with you to the fullest before it was over.

As the movie went on, Zemo could feel your body moving closer and closer to him. The heat that radiated from your body made him want to wrap his arms around you, but he didn’t know if that would go too far. Roughly by the end of the movie, your head rested against his chest, moving slightly up and down as he breathed. He could tell by your shallow breathing you had entered the realm of dreams.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help but admire how peaceful you looked. When on the mission with Sam and James you had always appeared tense, prepared to fight your way out of a situation as soon as possible, but at this moment you were relaxed and it made his heart flutter. He could look at you forever like this and never tire of it.

He had found himself in the past comparing you to his wife. He felt conflicted feeling this way about another woman, but how he felt about you differed from how he felt about his wife. It was new, exciting, addicting. Slowly raising his hand, he brushes a piece of hair that had fallen over your face while you slept. Your skin was smooth against his fingers and so soft. His fingers lingered on your skin before finally, he let his arm rest around your body, holding you close as you slept against his chest.

-

Your arms were raised, feeling the walls on either side of you as you tried to figure out if you were going and if you were about to bump into anything while Zemo’s hands were clasped around your eyes tightly.

“Don’t you trust me y/n” he whispers in your year, snickering.

“Do you want a pleasant lie or the harsh truth?” you ask, turning your head slightly but Zemo tuts and moves your head back with his hands

“Not long now, just a few more steps,”

“Till what!” you whine

“Be patient y/n!”

Zemo lifts one hand of your eyes telling you to keep them close and you hear the creak of a door open ahead of you. His hand returns to your face and with slightly pushing his body against yours, he urges you forward into this new room.

“Can I finally look now?”

Zemo removes his hands and steps back from you, “Okay y/n, open your eyes”

Opening them you gasped in shock seeing what was before you. On a stand was a replica of Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast. Its honey yellow colour shone out, the top of it tightly clung to the mannequin it was on while the bottom poofed out, it hung with no shoulder straps and came with yellow gloves. Everything about it was perfect.

“Helmut I- I’m, stunned,”

“You like it?” he asks anxiously

You turn to him grinning, “Of course I do!”

You hug him tightly, ecstatic, then rushed over to the dress, brushing your fingers along it. “It’s beautiful” you whisper.

“I think I got the sizes right,” Zemo says coming up beside you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, “There’s only one way to know for you,” he adds on, turning to you giving you a gentle smile

He helps you take the dress off and chuckles as he watches you rush off with it to get changed, then leaves to get changed himself.

The dress fitted perfectly on you. Everything from the bust down to the waist. Even the gloves fitted perfectly. When you entered the bathroom, you found Zemo had even found some make-up in case you wanted to use any. He thought of everything.

Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. You truly felt like a Disney princess. Slowly you walked back down the stairs and enter the room Zemo had to lead you in, to begin with. As you walked in, let out a merry laugh as you saw Zemo, dressed up in a blue jacket, embroidered with yellow roses on the sleeves, just like the beast. He was standing by a record player, putting a disk in as you walked in. He turns to look at you, his mouth opening in wonder.

“Y/n… you look glorious,”

His sincere comment makes your cheeks heat up and you hold your arms out to him, squeezing your hands letting him know you want to hold his hands.

He turns the record on and your favorite song from Beauty and the Beast floats out, making your cells light up with excitement.

“Helmut” you start to say as he walks over to you, holding his hand out, “Why are you doing this?”

He gently takes your gloved hand, bending over to kiss it. “I know it isn’t easy being stuck in here all the time and you said you loved ‘Beauty and the Beast’ so I thought it would make a pleasant treat,”

His arms hesitantly touch your waist as he looks into your eyes as if asking it was okay. You nod and step closer to him, taking his hand in yours holding it up. Getting into the waltz position you two start to move along the dance floor, swaying to the music.

You two slide along the ballroom floor, picking up speed. As you look up to him, he breathes out smiling back down at you happily. His hand on his waist spins your around as your dress flutters out. You squeal in delight as you grasp back onto his hand as you felt dizzy.

You two turn around the floor looking each other deep in the eyes. You could feel his breath on your face as you two were barely inches apart from each other. Zemo pulls you in even closer as your arm goes around his neck, your body pulled into his. He dips you as you cling to him tightly for dear life as the music fades.

He holds you into that position, panting as he looks at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. You could feel that pull towards him, your eyes starting to flutter shut. He leans towards you but suddenly you feel your fingers slip and you almost let go of him. His other hand quickly wraps around making sure you don’t fall to the floor.

He helps you back on your feet and you two steps apart. You look away feeling your cheeks burn up again.

“Helmut, thank you. Thank you so much” you tell him earnestly

He looks deep into your eyes, smiling in bliss, “Anything for you y/n”

-

“Y/n, are you awake?”

You groan as you hear Zemo whisper beside you, waking you from your sleep.

“Ugh, Helmut what time is it,” you moan turning over with your eyes are closed.

“It’s 8, time to wake up”

“Nooooo” you whine screwing up your eyelids.

You hear him chuckle and then you feel something push against your lips. You open your eyes confused to see Zemo beside you, holding a strawberry to your lips.

You smile and take a bite out of it, moaning in delight as you taste its sweetness as you sit up. He sits up beside you and holds out some melted chocolate for you to dip the strawberry in.

“Helmut, you spoil me”

“Not enough,” he whispers back as he puts the chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips letting you take another bite.

“I’m not even surprised anymore to see you in my bed when I wake up,” you tell him

“Technically this is my bed”

“You know what I mean!”

He chuckles as he pushes his head back into the headboard, “I thought it would be a nice way for you to wake up,”

“Consider me impressed,” you tell him, looking over at him smiling. He glances back to you, his lips twitching up. You lean into his side, not caring at the moment you were in a simple nightdress. You close your eyes inhaling his cologne and picking up a strawberry to feed to him.

“I could get used to this,” you whisper to him

-

You scan the piano music book before looking back down to the notes before you. It had been a while since you had last played so you thought you might as well pick it up while you were stuck in Zemo’s mansion.

You press the notes but every time you tried to play one of the chords you always missed one. You were trying to play your favorite song 'Comptine d'un autre été' but to no avail.

“You need to flow with the music and not worry about hitting the right notes”

You turn around and smile as you see Zemo approach you from behind. “Isn’t the whole point of music to play the right notes?” you say sarcastically

Zemo lets out a huff chuckling, “Well yes but you’ll hit the notes when you stop trying so hard. Now try again”

You turn back around and attempt the music again but hit the wrong notes making you slam the piano in annoyance.

“Don’t damage the piano”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I should give up,”

“No don’t do that” Zemo says, brushing his fingers over your waist, “Here let me help you”

He puts his hands on top of yours guiding them, “Let’s try again,”

You look to the music then back down to your hands which had Zemo’s resting on and attempt to start playing again. His hands moved in time with yours as they guided along with the piano, pressing down on your fingers when you needed to. You got every note. Well, Zemo got every note.

“See, easy,” he says as he pulls back from you. “Now try again”

You attempt to play again but feeling his eyes stare into your back you couldn’t concentrate and messed up the notes again.

“We just went through this!”

“It’s hard to concentrate with you staring at me!” you exclaim turning around to him. Your eyes widen as what you just said as he tilts his head, a smug smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh, I make it hard for you to concentrate do I?”

You groan at his cockiness, looking away from him so he doesn’t see your glistening red cheeks.

He walks up behind you again, his fingers grazing your jawline, stopping at your chin as he raises your head to look up at him. Seeing him look down at you made a knot in your stomach tighten.

“You are awfully red y/n”

“Shut up”

He chuckles and leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I like it when you blush”

The breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel his lips on your forehead, their softness cooling your burning skin.

For the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless, by Helmut Zemo no less.

His teeth flash in his smile as he looks down at you, “Come let’s practice this again” he says, leaning over as his back pressed into yours, putting his hands back on top of yours.

-

“Zemo do you mind if I borrow your phone briefly to see if that new video has been released?” you call out picking up Zemo’s phone that he had left on your seat.

“Go ahead! Just don’t check anything else on there” he yells back

“Worried I will find your nudes?” you call out as you unlock the phone. Pressing onto the youtube app you sigh in annoyance seeing no new video and so you were about to put the phone back down when a message appeared from a contact simply labeled ‘S’

It read, ‘S: Look just tell us where you have taken her. Whatever you are doing with her it isn’t worth it”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at what the hell could that message mean. You click onto the message stream just to see a ton of messages from this ‘S’ contact but with no reply from Zemo.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Zemo wouldn’t want you to do what you were about to do, but your curiosity got the best of you and you pressed the call button.

It rang for a few seconds and then the line picked up.

“Zemo” Sam’s voice rang out through the phone

“Sam?” you ask back

“W-what, YN/!? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Woah Woah Sam, calm down, I’m fine! I’m with Helmut-Sam what is going on?”

“What has he done to you?”

“What do you mean he's done nothing, Sam I thought me and Helmut were hiding out here till Karli was done with her plan?”

You hear a sigh down the phone and then the muffled voices of what you could make out as Bucky and Sharon down the line.

Sam picked the phone back up and spoke directly, “Y/n you need to get out of there now. Zemo, he's kidnapped you”

The phone slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a loud crash.

Tag list: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @loonylunalovegood77 @lieutenantn @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @arianalilyblack @mandowhatnow @scullys-alienpussy @felicityofbakerstreet @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

[hansolmates]

hoshi; vowels and veracity (m)

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. pairing: teacher!soonyoung x single mother!reader genre/warnings: fluffity fluff nuggets, humor, a lil bit of angst when yn panics, *steve rogers voice* language! alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap the pickle before u tickle), face sitting w/c: 5.2k a/n: i really have nothing to say about this but i’ve been thinking about going back to school all week so this manifested. enjoy a lil sexy but sweet hosh💕 

“Y-you,” another giggle and the press of wet lips to the sensitive spot of your neck, “stop, Soonyoung! I’m ticklish there!” 

You feel a pout imprint itself in the sweet spot between your ear and your jaw, and you sigh at the rumble of his lips against your skin, “But you taste so sweet, baby,” he croons, and you’re practically melting between the door with how much Soonyoung has pressed himself against you, all of himself. 

“What if I don’t wanna stop, pretty girl?” he husks against your soft skin, whispering things in your ear that aren’t for the faint of heart. In your haste to keep a firm grip, one hand goes to his clothes and the other nips at the undercut of his midnight black hair, “what if I just open the door right now and we slip right in, and then I slip right in you?” 

Your breath hitches and suddenly your core feels like a timebomb, ready to combust. 

Go on a date, Joshua says. He’s a sweet guy, Joshua says. He’s a friend of Joshua’s, so you know going into this blind date that at the very least, he wasn’t a serial killer. But what Joshua failed to tell you going into this was how much Kwon Soonyoung packed and how much of a temptor in disguise he is. 

“I really would love to invite you in,” it looks like it pains Soonyoung to admit this, as he presses his forehead to yours and the edge of his fingers dig into your crushed emerald velvet number, “but tomorrow’s the first day of work and I am not emotionally prepared. But, I do want to see you again. I had a great time.” 

The previous mood melting into the night sky, you reluctantly let go of the lapels of his tweed blazer. Unable to suppress your crestfallen smile you nod, “That’s fine,” you reply, inching away from him to send him a pointed look, “I wouldn’t have gone inside anyway. I don’t put out on the first date,” you cross your arms in an attempt to feign nonchalance.  

Which isn’t a lie, although if Soonyoung had asked you two minutes ago to come inside for a cup of tea, you wouldn’t have argued. He is just that tempting. Said date raises an eyebrow in response, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear at the defiance in your eyes. “Oh?” he echoes, “then what date do you put out?” 

“Date seven.” 

“Lucky seven,” he grins, “so if we go on a date every day this week by Friday we should be good to go. How do you feel about steak?” 

You slap his shoulder in his response, and the giggle that erupts from his lips in response has you feeling dizzy and giddy with excitement. Soonyoung has you feeling like a college freshman all over again, floating like Cloud 9 and drunk in anticipation. You peck one, two more kisses on his lips. He tastes like the peach champagne you shared and his own scent as he pulls you in for a much longer, much hotter kiss. 

“Good luck on your first day,” you mumble against his lips, vaguely remembering that he’s a teacher in a school nearby. 

“Mm, text me when you get home,” and with a final kiss to your forehead he unlocks his door, leaving you warm and full of heart-eyes on his front porch. 

The walk home, more like float home, has you feeling all parts exhausted and hopeful for the days to come. For the first time in a long time you feel young and unbridled, thrumming with excitement. Now you’re just playing with your phone, waiting to exchange goodnight texts. 

“Nari’s asleep,” when you walk into your shared apartment, you spot a sleepy Seungkwan on his laptop and sprawled across your couch. “How was it?” 

“It was reealllly nice,” you’re still a little wine tipsy, drunk on the taste of Merlot and a certain someone’s kisses, “he was really sweet, and surprisingly sexy.” 

“Did you get dicked down?” Seungkwan asks only the most important questions. 

You scoff, flopping down on the couch next to him, “As if, we have work in the morning.” 

“Speaking of work, are you sure you’re not able to drop off Nari to school tomorrow? It’s her first day of kindergarten.” 

“I can’t,” saying it feels absolutely awful, but a single mother has to work extra hard to keep her and her daughter happy. 

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan easily waves you off and runs a hand through his fluffy auburn hair, “her favorite Uncle is there, anyway.” 

“Hey,” you lightly punch his arm, “I’ve already talked Nari through it. I’m cooking a big breakfast tomorrow—chocolate chip pancakes, duh, and taking a million pictures before we have to part ways. I packed a little Kit-Kat for her lunch with a sweet note. When I come back in time for dinner I promised her pizza from her favorite parlor and she can tell me everything about her day.” 

“So, you’re bribing her with food.” 

“Sue me, it’s every parent’s weak spot.” 

Seungkwan stretches his arms, cradling you between his chest. You sigh into his clean linen scent, feeling sleepy. “Yeah, I’ve bribed her with my Switch once or twice,” he admits softly, eyes also drooping, “but you’re a great mother regardless. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Kwannie,” you sigh, feeling more at ease. 

Nari is the light of you and Seungkwan’s life. Five years ago, you promised yourself that if you were more than financially stable and still sick with baby fever, you would adopt. You didn’t want to find a romantic partner for the sole purpose of having a child, you could easily do that on your own. And that you did, you researched and visited foster homes off in the countryside. 

In a little town off the coast of the shore was where you met Nari, only six months old and full with cherub cheeks and eyes that sparkled like the moon and stars. You fell in love with her instantly. Fast forward five years later and she’s the reason you wake up every morning and work hard every day. Seungkwan being your best friend, also wanted rights as the godfather and therefore is also part of your perfect family picture. 

You and Seungkwan sleep warmly tonight, both excited to share yet another year of Nari’s milestones. 

“And then Mr. Kwon said I was an ‘ace’ with my vowels!” Nari has a string of cheese hanging from her chin, and you don’t bat an eye as you reach to pat it away with a napkin. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less, baby,” you coo, carding a hand through her hair so her bangs don’t get caught in her meal, “remember when mommy and Uncle Kwannie taught you the vowels this summer? We sang that song.” 

“Yes! I sang the same song and showed everyone how ‘ta do it,” your heart is swelling with pride, and you fight the urge to tear up because Seungkwan’s already showing signs of waterworks from his side of the table, “I read a book Mr. Kwon gave me today and he said he’s so impressed I read at a Level B.” 

You quirk your brows at the new jargon. You certainly don’t know what it means to be a Level B, but it makes Nari happy and that’s all that matters. Wiping the orange grease off her lips, you muse that you must get in contact with her teacher one of these days.

“What’s a Level B?” Seungkwan similarly looks stumped at the new vocabulary. 

“I don’t know!” Nari shrugs, but nevertheless her teacher’s attention has her glowing. 

You giggle, “I’m so happy for you, baby.” 

“I’m excited to go back tomorrow, I made a new friend! His name is Jeonghan and he helped me with my numbers today. He called my bows cute.” 

“Cute?” Seungkwan perks up from his stupor, “of course you’re cute, Nari. So cute that you’re too good for this Jeonghwan boy.” 

“Jeonghan, Uncle Kwannie,” she pouts when Seungkwan scoffs, in favor of shoving half a slice in his mouth. She turns to you, tugging on your blazer, “Mama, can I go watch TV now? I finished my homework and I wanna see the new Ladybug and Cat Noir!” 

“Of course,” you pull away her plate, gesturing for her to go to the living room. 

“Thank you mama,” and she’s bouncing off her seat, pushing her chair in and off to watch Miraculous Ladybug. 

You sigh, “They grow up so fast.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes widen at your age-old phrase, the words reminding him oddly of his parents when they used to talk down to him. “And here we are, aging twice as fast,” Seungkwan bemoans, already starting to feel the greasy food settle in his stomach. “We used to eat a whole pie! We could eat absolute garbage back in college and here I am weak at two slices—oh my god, am I having a ‘back in my day’ moment? We need to go out. I need to go out. I’ve been practicing consonants and vowels all day. I need a boyfriend,” he playfully narrows his eyes at you, “I need a boyfriend like yours, sweet and sexy.” 

“Sorry,” you stick out your tongue, “but he’s mine.” 

Perfect timing, Soonyoung’s name pops up on your phone. You two have been texting sporadically throughout the day, making plans for your next date. The two of you are going to watch a drive-in movie, a situation that screams teenage-back-of-the-truck-sex but the movie is a much anticipated favorite of yours and you genuinely want to watch it. 

Soonyoung is full of humor and laughs, getting you to smile and relax at the right times during work and always manages to keep you on your toes whenever he says something flirtatious. 

“Are you gonna introduce him to Nari?” 

You stop typing, and look up towards your beautiful little girl in the living room. Her hair is out of her pigtails, drooping tiredly like she is. Her cheek is pressed against her favorite plush cat, fighting for consciousness because she’s waiting for Marinette to save the day. Your heart swells with affection. 

“Dunno,” you shrug, trying not to think too hard about it, “we’re not that serious right now.” 

You’re absolutely winded. You finished work early today, due to the fact that came in early so you could clock out and pick Nari up from school. Despite the fact that Nari says it’s okay for you not to pick her up, you can’t allow it and you want to be the one who she runs into when she comes out the door. 

“Who do you think she’s gonna hug first?” Seungkwan’s elbowing you, baiting you. “Because this morning she gave me a hug and three kisses before I dropped her off.” 

“Three?” you seethe in annoyance, “three kisses is our thing! Two on the cheek and one on the forehead!” 

The two of you slowly steep together, waiting for the colorful blue door to the kindergarten area to file out. The heel of your shoes are digging into the grass, probably making a needle-like  indentation in the dirt as you struggle not to seep into the lawn. You feel like you’re going to flop on your heels, wishing you could go run back into the car and find your flip-flops from last month’s beach trip. But before you could debate on the run the bell rings, and you’re on livewire when you see the students start to file out. 

Your smile grows ten-fold when you see Nari’s jaw drop in surprise, seeing you waiting for her. She fists whatever is in her hands in surprise, breaking into the cutest smile as she screams, “mama!” 

And you’re ready to hold your arms out and throw her around in circles, until you see who follows right behind her. 

Kwon Soonyoung is Nari’s kindergarten teacher. Kwon Soonyoung with his hair down and untextured, wearing a mint polo and looking nothing like the date you had the other night. He looks absolutely soft and so, you are weak. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the sexy deviant who sends you questionable texts and sends you funny puppy videos, is staring right at you and utterly confused when Nari rams straight into your hip. 

Momentarily distracted, you pepper your pretty daughter in kisses (all three of them, two cheeks and one forehead) and tell her how much you’ve missed her. Clearly she doesn’t miss you as much, as she’s waving around a picture she drew during playtime, one of her and Jeonghan in the sandbox. 

“Really, Nari,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath, shamelessly vocalizing his opinion on a five-year old, “can’t you choose a different friend?” 

“Seungkwan!” you chide, but he pointedly annoys you when Nari finally enters Seungkwan’s embrace. He takes extra time to cuddle her, obviously jealous that another boy has taken refuge in your little Nari’s heart. 

The moment is so sweet and simple you have no choice but to revel in it and take out your phone to snap a photo. 

“Mama!” she pops her head off of Seungkwan’s shoulder, “come meet Mr. Kwon!”

And she’s tugging your hand, only you’re much stronger and you stay firmly planted on the grass. Heck, you even sacrifice your shoes by digging your heels in for extra measure.Your eyes widen in panic, but Nari doesn’t notice because she’s paving a path of dirt with her lime green light-up sneakers, trying to get you to move. You nearly forgot your latest tryst is your daughter’s teacher, and you never told him you have a kid. 

But within seconds, there’s an audible slam and the three of you are shattered from your bubble. Turning to the noise the heavy navy door is now locked shut, all the students dismissed for the day. The crowd is gone. Soonyoung is gone. 

Seungkwan’s eyes dart between the closed door and you, the pieces clicking. His mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he nods in understanding. “He thinks I’m your baby daddy.” 

The two of you point out each other like the Spiderman meme. “He thinks you’re my baby daddy,” you echo, horror marrying your face. 

“Mama? What’s a baby daddy?” 

“Shh, Nari—” he picks up Nari in one swoop, mouthing a go to you as he leads her to the car. 

All alone on the grass, you panic as you watch your family grow smaller and smaller as they enter the parking lot. Soonyoung’s just behind that door, right? Looking left and right to assure no one is going to think you’re being that parent and harassing the teacher within the first week of school, you bound up the steps to knock on the door. Your knocks clang heavily, echoing against the building. 

Ten seconds pass. Nothing. 

You deflate, pulling out your phone to shoot Soonyoung a quick text. 

You: hey, can you come out for a bit so i can explain? Please

A minute passes. He leaves you on read. Defeated, you slump against the door. This day is really a whirlwind on your mental state. All you wanted today was some extra time off work, Nari’s three kisses, and maybe a goodnight text from Soonyoung if you were lucky. 

The door suddenly flips open, and you’re braced against someone’s hands. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

Your face crumples in relief when it’s Soonyoung that’s come out to respond to you. He’s bracing your weight by holding your arms between his hands, although keeping a respectable distance between the upper half of your bodies. It makes you a little upset, but you understand. Once you’re stable, he lets you go and leans away from you.

“Why are you waiting out here?” he asks pointedly, looking at you up and down. You seem terribly overdressed in your coral pinstripe suit, mismatching with Soonyoung’s apple sauce stains. 

“Why do you think I’m waiting out here?”

“And if I close the door again?” he retorts suddenly. 

“Then I’ll follow you home.” 

A beat passes, whatever expression he conveys on his face is practiced and primed. You have a terrible time trying to decipher his blankness. Working with kids probably does that to an adult. “Come in,” he says neutrally, and you wordlessly follow him into his classroom. 

The room is decorated beautifully, with rainbows and glitter. It’s also surprisingly organized, all the crayons in place and the play area free of stray toys. Your eyes instantly search for Nari’s desk, and a small smile fits on your face as you trace her handmade name tag. 

“Normally, I don’t let parents in my room until it’s Back to School Night,” Soonyoung says, leaning against his desk. It makes you terribly nervous, knowing the ball is in your court and he’s waiting for you to make a move. His carefree, easy going nature is nowhere to be found, and all you see is walls and a mean poker face. He pulls up the sleeves of his polo, exposing pale, strong arms. Your mouth waters a little (you can’t help it!) and you immediately reach for a bottle of water in your purse. “So, what is it you have to say?” 

“Seungkwan’s not my baby daddy,” you blurt, and you immediately blanch when Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Wow uh. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” 

“But you did say it like that,” Soonyoung replies slowly, “no child just doesn’t give three kisses to someone who isn’t their father.” 

“I only called him my baby daddy because he said it first,” you grumble, almost childishly, “and Nari’s a baby, of course she’s going to give three kisses to anyone that feeds her and coddles her.” 

“It sounds like an excuse.” 

“It sounds like I’m freaking out because you keep talking back and forth like this!” you cry, slapping your hands against your thigh. You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re quickly getting annoyed, your face morphing into a shade of embarrassment. You can’t tell if this is amusing him or this is a real interrogation. “Let me explain, Soonyoung!” 

He says your name slowly, deliberately. And then, “do you want to take a break in the Calm Down Corner?” 

“The—the what?” Soonyoung’s eyes flicker to a corner at the far end of the room. The radiator is decorated in a sky blue wallpaper, and there’s a yoga mat on the floor. There are chairs next to a desk filled with coloring pages, decorated with fairy lights. Filling three of the chairs are various stuffed animals, a tiger, a cat, and a panda, all dressed as doctors. It’s a child’s therapy corner. “You gotta be kidding me.” 

He raises a brow, and—is that a smile on his lips? “Then explain, why are you here?” 

“Because I think I really like you,” you confess, frustration melting away to reveal the uneasy upturn on your lips. You lied when Seungkwan asked if you would ever consider introducing Soonyoung to Nari. In a different world, you would’ve loved to take the time to take Nari to the museum and introduce Soonyoung there. They’d definitely bond over their love for tigers. “Seungkwan is my best friend, and helps me take care of Nari. I adopted her five years ago.” 

Something softens in Soonyoung’s eyes, and the air feels much more relaxed. But his dark brows remain knit together, and he looks at you with confused eyes. “Then if you like me so much, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“Because kids can be deal breakers,” you admit, and the colorful classroom feels smaller as you hug yourself. “I just, wanted you to like me first.” 

It’s the primary reason why it’s taken you so long to date. Sure, there’d be a fling here and there, but nothing that feels as tangible as Soonyoung is. You’re not old enough to find a partner that wouldn’t blink at the sign of children, yet you’re still at that weird age threshold where a partner could immediately run for the hills at the mention of one. Nothing will top Nari, she’s number one in your heart, but the small selfish part wanted you to put the focus on yourself for just one night. 

“You don’t have to hide, I want every part of your life no matter how long we have,” he assures you gently, firmly without an ounce of regret. Soonyoung opens his arms, and you cry in relief when you get to collapse in the scent of his cologne. You tuck your head in the crook of his neck, slightly sweaty from whatever activities he needs to do with the kids, but you don’t mind. His voice is quiet, melting in your ears, “and I really like you too. I really like Nari as well, she’s a great kid.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” 

You two pull away, and he swipes a thumb under your eyes in case some tears manage to escape. “So, Friday? Movie?” 

“It’s a date.” 

“Where’s Nari?” the question is huffed against your breath as you’re pressed between your freshly washed bedspread and Soonyoung’s body. He takes care in making sure the zipper of your delicate dress doesn’t get caught in the rush, easily slipping your dress off and throwing it on your desk chair. 

“At Seungkwan’s, why?” 

His cheshire cat eyes glow under the moonlight, positively devious. “It’s date seven,” he announces sweetly. His gaze betrays his saccarine reply, a look that only tells you that Soonyoung plans to fuck you five ways to Sunday, and you’ll gladly let him. 

You sit up on your elbows, enjoying the show as Soonyoung quickly sheds his clothing. It’s ungraceful, exciting. Tonight was a simple carnival date, easily making you feel like a giddy college student all over again. Soonyoung won you five Pokemon keychains today, you could put a whole party on your hand. 

“It’s actually date six,” you tease, tilting your head as his pants finally come off, revealing black boxer briefs that snug deliciously around the waist. 

“Oh, okay,” he looks at you like you’ve spoken God’s word, reaching to pick up his shirt, “so you don’t want my dick fucking you raw tonight? Okay, I see how it is,” he pretends to put on his clothing, jabbing a thumb out the door. 

You have the audacity to giggle, pulling him over by the waistband, “Come here so I can make an exception.”

You don’t know what it is that makes you want you want to give everything to this man. Heck, five years ago you didn’t even want a man as an excuse to have kids. But as he nudges you in all the right places and places you on top of him, you know this man will treat you like an absolute treasure. Every kiss is laced with smiles and sweetness, filled with vigor and vivacity that fills you up and leaves you afloat. 

He takes care of you first, unwilling to let you budge as he places your core over his face. He makes quick, but effective use of his tongue and fingers, making sure you’re nice and sensitive for his future plans. You’re practically throbbing with pleasure, vibrating from every cell of your body. Within minutes he’s glistening in your arousal, and he pulls you down so you’re lined up with his crotch. It’s involuntary when you pulse against his member, your body shamefully alerting you that it’s desperate with need, and the remedy is right under you. 

Soonyoung looks more satisfied than you, eager to please you. Without warning, he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, “You pretty, pretty girl,” you are keen at the attention, your body is glowing a radiant rose. 

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, sticky and tasting of your arousal. Tilting your hips up you let Soonyoung pull his member out, lining it against your entrance. Feeling the soft tip brush against your delicate folds, you moan against his mouth. With a little ‘pop’ he releases you, lips shiny and parted. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of hit-it-n’quit-it kind of guy,” he noses the sensitive spot of your jawline, which distracts you momentarily when the plush tip nudges your folds, coaxing you to unite. “Because after tonight, I’m definitely keeping you. Forever.” 

The reply that dances on your tongue is overtaken by your whines when Soonyoung slips in fully, forcing your body to clench tightly against his. You take him, all of him. You feel wet and sticky and hot and swollen with affection as Soonyoung praises you for taking him so well. His pace is firm and passionate, short nails digging deliciously into your hips for leverage as he makes sure to fill you to the brim. 

He’s right, tonight is far from being a means to an end. You feel like you can have nights like this the rest of your life. And when the both of you finish and you’re pulling the covers over one another, you finally manage to grasp the reply that was nearly forgotten. 

Pressing a kiss to his jaw you whisper, “I’m keeping you, too.” 

“So, how long can we keep this a secret for?”

“Ideally? Ten months. Realistically, I’d say Christmas.” 

“Why Christmas?” 

“Because I know you’re going to be dying to get Nari a Christmas present.” 

Soonyoung props his elbow on the pillow, looking at you petulantly. “I could say it’s a good behavior reward. She’s been racking up those gold stars during morning meetings, babe. She’s not even trying.” 

“That’s my girl,” you coo, rolling over to lean your head on his chest. Light has long flooded into your apartment, seeping through your curtains and reflecting on your white duvet. Soonyoung looks absolutely fluffy and well rested, and you can’t help but reach to pat down the ebony bird’s nest atop his head. 

The two of you lay like that for a little bit, playing with each other’s cold feet under the covers and relishing under the touch of bare skin to bare skin. You remind yourself that you need to take Joshua out to dinner one of these days, as he managed the inevitable and set you up with  an amazing partner. 

“Breakfast?” Soonyoung pops the question easily, “let’s get steak.”

“Steak isn’t eaten for breakfast.” 

“Then can I eat you for breakfast?” 

You snort, hiding under the covers while Soonyoung attempts to tickle you. The whole act in itself feels wholly innocent despite the fact that you’re both naked and smell like sweat and sex. Just as you feel Soonyoung’s head dip under the covers to meet you at your chest, the door swings open. 

“Mama!” 

The previously warm room feels like wickedly sharp ice, freezing you to your spot as you clutch the covers closer to your chest. “Baby!” you cry exasperatedly, flinching when she throws all her weight on you. She’s still in her ladybug pajamas from last night, hair falling out of her braid. 

She lifts her head from your breast to give you an adorable one-toothed grin. You try your best to maintain eye-contact, but Nari has impeccable vision. Her grin evolves into a full-on beam when she finds your bed partner.

“Mr. Kwon!” she’s squealing, clamoring over your lap. You do a double-take when you see Soonyoung sitting next to you, wearing a t-shirt. Where on earth did he get that?

Soonyoung’s eyes reduce to crescents at his (secretly) favorite student. “Good morning, Nari-ah. Had a fun time at your Uncle’s house?” 

“Nari,” you force your daughter down to stand on the hardwood, giving her a stern look, “give Mr. Kwon some space, it’s really early and it’s the weekend.” 

Knitting her brows together, she looks between the two of you, “But you two don’t have any space.” 

You wince at her perception, and nudge yourself away so you’re pressed against your nightstand. The oakwood corner digs painfully into your back. 

“We were haviång a very special parent meeting,” you fight the urge to cry when Soonyoung turns on his teacher's voice, sending your daughter a very convincing smile. You watch as your daughter’s eyes go wide, probably feeling very special that her teacher came all the way to her house to have a meeting. “You’ve been doing so well during the read-alouds that I had to tell your mama in person!” 

“I told you mama!” Nari juts out her chest, and you lean over to kiss the crown of her head. “But Mr. Kwon, why are you having it in mama’s room?” 

“Her room is the warmest!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing, his and Nari’s eyes widening simultaneously as he gestures to the open window. “The sun travels directly into your bedroom in the morning, and those rays send heat—”

“Mr. Kwon,” your voice is as steady as it can be, and  you frown when Soonyoung wiggles his brows. You already know he’s thinking of three separate ways you can use the term Mr. Kwon in private, but you’re not having any of that, “shouldn’t we uh, wrap up this… meeting?” 

“I wanna stay,” Nari glowers, obviously nosy as to what you two are talking about.

“I know baby. We just gotta finish up the meeting, okay? Can you—” you cut  yourself off when Seungkwan finally decides to make his appearance, eyes wide at commotion he’s created. He’s in matching pajamas, ridiculously red as he bends down to scoop up Nari. Absolutely sweating and as red as his clothes, his eyes dart between the two of you. You could care less that Seungkwan’s eyes have bags under their bags, and was probably too tired to catch her when she ran inside the house. No, Seungkwan doesn’t deserve the title of godfather anymore. 

“Nari! You can’t interrupt teacher meetings,” Seungkwan pretends to scold, and Nari turns her head so she can hide in her Uncle’s shoulder. 

Knowing that Nari can’t see a thing, you mouth a very explicit I will kill you to your best friend, and he immediately mouths an apology to the both of you as he ushers himself out the door. You wait ten seconds for your daughter to be out of ear shot, before dropping the blanket from your neck and throwing yourself against the pillows. 

But Soonyoung’s chuckling, pressing a litany of kisses all over your bare body in an attempt to comfort you. Instead of reveling in his lazy morning touch, you want to disappear between the sheets, never to be seen. What will the PTO moms say when they find out? How will you stop Nari from telling Jeonghan, and therefore Jeonghan telling the entire kindergarten population? Why isn’t Soonyoung freaking out about this? Instead, he favors to taste your body, in between kisses muttering something about it being kismet that Nari so happened to see right as you were discussing the secrecy of your relationship. Ten years from now, your daughter will be horrified when she realizes that no, teachers don’t normally give housecalls in your mother’s bed.

Your boyfriend pinches your thigh, regarding you with mirth in his eyes. 

“So, that means I can buy her a Christmas present now, right?” 

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 12

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,200

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 18 parts total.

—

It was still dark out when Dynamene arrived at the temple. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the ocean calm. Still soaking wet from head to toe, she left puddles of water with each trudge up the sizable hill where the temple overlooked the sea. She had never been to a human temple before. It was less grand than she had imagined, though still tall and stately. It was impressive as far as human architecture went, she supposed.

She entered hesitantly, feeling almost embarrassed to be tracking water into a sacred, if humble, place. In the room at the center of the temple stood Aphrodite's cult image. It was roughly life-sized and hewn from wood, with a delicate cloth draping it modestly. Dynamene suppressed a smile when she saw it; it was much less curvaceous and delicate looking than the real goddess. She approached it gingerly, not sure what to do next.

Most humans that came to temples to ask something of the gods brought an offering, she knew, but she hadn't the faintest idea what to present. She was entirely empty-handed, save for the thin chiton she wore and her treasured bracelet, neither of which she was about to part with.

After a few minutes of pondering, the answer came to her - Aphrodite was the goddess of beauty, too, not just love. Dynamene's hands went to her two braids. Would she accept her hair as an offering...? Surely there was little more a woman could give in way of sacrificing her beauty.

She picked up a sharp seashell from the altar and aligned it with the base of the first braid, against her neck, and took a deep breath. Her hair had been long her whole life, but it would grow back, right?

Before she could even make the first cut, there was a deafening clap, and she was surrounded by white light.

When the light cleared, she was no longer standing in the dim inner room of the temple. A strange burning sensation lingered on her skin before quickly subsiding. Dynamene hesitantly lifted her head.

She was in a vast room with golden floors and roses of every color climbing the frescoed walls. A giant fountain, several times her height, stood ahead to her right. It bubbled and gurgled merrily, the white foam so bright that she could hardly look at it. A handful of small cherubs tended to bunches of pristine lilies that floated serenely in the bottom pool. And to her left, reclining on a golden couch inlaid with diamonds and pearls, was a statuesque woman with golden waves and wide eyes.

"My, you weren't really going to cut your hair, were you?" Aphrodite cried, staring at Dynamene with alarm. "I may be the goddess of love as well as beauty, but I'll let you in on a secret - no woman should sacrifice her looks for a man."

Dynamene immediately turned red. "I... I apologize." She tucked the shell away awkwardly into the fold of her chiton. "Um, where am I?"

"You're at my palace, on Mount Olympus," Aphrodite proclaimed. She smiled at Dynamene and tilted her head. "I've been waiting so long to speak with you. Come, sit!"

Mount Olympus?! Dynamene had been here before on a few occasions to accompany Poseidon as part of his court, but only to the common grounds. Each of the twelve Olympians had their own estate and palace that they designed and furnished to their liking, most filled with opulence and treasure that lesser beings could barely dream of. To think that she should now find herself in one was incredible.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A couch that matched her own appeared next to Dynamene, as well as a table with cups and a jug of some mysterious liquid. "You must be famished. You've had quite the journey; sit, sit!"

How could she know that? Dynamene settled nervously onto the couch and smoothed the bottom of her dress. She was all too aware of how bedraggled she must look, especially in such an exquisite place. The upholstery became dotted with dark spots of water from her damp hair.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers, and Dynamene's clothes and hair dried in an instant. "There we are. More comfortable?"

"Um, yes, thank you." Dynamene touched the bottom of her braid in amazement. The jug on the table before her poured itself into her cup, and she brought it to her mouth with both hands. Something incredibly sweet and steaming hot flowed into her lips.

"That's nectar. Careful you don't drink too much, it'll cause indigestion. Now then, you've called upon me for help," Aphrodite beamed and moved upright, crossing her legs. "I'm overjoyed, to say the least." She rested her chin elegantly on the thumb and pointer finger of one hand.

"You are?" Dynamene felt completely lost.

"Yes! I've been following your adventure ever since things began to really heat up a few weeks ago. Your birthday, to be precise. How exciting! I haven't seen a love story this gripping in centuries."

Dynamene almost dropped her cup. "Following me?! Do you mean you've seen everything that's happened since then?"

"Well, the juicy bits, yes. As the goddess of love, I can tune in on any love affair or infatuation I desire. Most are a bit boring, nowadays. But you... Your feelings for Poseidon... It's such a delight! What a turn of events! I'm quite invested." Aphrodite giggled.

Dynamene's face continued to burn red. "I... I don't understand."

Aphrodite sighed and leaned back once more. "Ah, Poseidon... such an enigma. Such a tall, dark, and handsome man... Such an incredible body... But such a wretched personality."

Dynamene flinched.

"He really is a delight to look at, though, isn't he?" Aphrodite sighed, her gaze turning dreamy. "There was a time when I thought I might add him to my body count... But his stifling demeanor quickly dispersed that idea from my head. Such a foul attitude."

Dynamene felt a different kind of heat rise up from her neck to her ears, and her gaze narrowed before she could hide her feelings. Aphrodite laughed in response.

"Oh, don't worry! I'd never touch him now; such a cold fish. Not the type to be a considerate lover, at any rate. An ice statue of a man," she scoffed. Her gaze moved back to Dynamene with curiosity. "But you love him anyway!" Aphrodite leaned forward once more, her eyes wide.

Dynamene stared at her lap, completely overwhelmed. "I... I do." Her voice sounded so small, even to herself.

"Tell me about it! How did it happen? What was it that made you fall for him? I want to know everything!"

"Um..." Dynamene swallowed hard. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye; that piercing gaze and chiseled body. She remembered the way his body had shadowed hers in the dark on the beach. What was it...

Aphrodite smirked, as if she knew exactly what Dynamene was thinking. "Yes, handsome, that much is a give-in. But what else? There has to be something drawing you to him."

"Well..." Dynamene racked her brain. "He's incredibly powerful, and smart. He knows his realm so well..."

"That's a start, I suppose," Aphrodite clicked her tongue. "But men like that are a dime-a-dozen. And that won't keep you warm at night."

"What?" Although Dynamene had no idea what she was getting at, she had the feeling it was something rather uncouth.

"Oh, I apologize. You're a virgin, right? You're inexperienced in these matters." Aphrodite took a dainty sip from her own cup. "Those qualities are all nice and fine, but there's nothing romantic or passionate about them. Not things that really light the flame of love, as it were."

Dynamene was silent for a moment, staring at her hands. She thought of the way he'd spoken with her on the beach, and the way he'd gone out of his way to show her the wonderful things he saw underwater. "He shared his power with me... He used it to show me all the things he could sense in the ocean. It was amazing, and so nice. He held my hand... and I didn't want him to let go."

"So that's it!" Aphrodite said triumphantly. "He made you feel special. He gave you a glimpse of something he's never shown anyone else."

Dynamene smiled wistfully. "And then, he promised me another bracelet... He's never given me anything besides on my birthday. It must mean something. He's never done that for anyone before."

"The frigid tyrant is finally thawing," Aphrodite pondered, swishing her cup. "Maybe he won't spend eternity a virgin, after all," she snickered.

Wait... Does she mean me and him...? Dynamene hid her face in her hands. Oh, no. This is too much. What am I doing here?!

"So he is getting sweet on you, then." Aphrodite threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, I can't believe it; that a day like this would come! It's too much."

"Well... not sweet, exactly, but..." Dynamene rubbed her arm.

"Not sweet?" Aphrodite rose one eyebrow. "He didn't kill you when he had the opportunity. That's quite the gesture of fondness for him, really."

Dynamene blinked, struck speechless.

"Now, then," Aphrodite continued, her voice taking on a more business-like tone. "As far as directly helping you, there's little I can offer. Poseidon would have my head if he ever found out I was interfering in his love life, and that wouldn't do." She sighed rather theatrically.

"Oh." Dynamene's shoulders sank. Then it was all for nothing.

"But..." Aphrodite continued with a mischievous smile. "That doesn't mean I can't point you in the direction of someone who can help you. I've heard through the grapevine that there's a witch not far from Poseidon's estate who does spell work for those who are willing to pay the price. She lives in one of the deepest undersea trenches. I'm sure she'd be happy to strike a deal with you."

"A witch?" Dynamene had misgivings about this immediately. Witches didn't exactly enjoy the highest of praises within the Greek pantheon's society. "Aren't a lot of them shady?"

"They are. But you're clever enough, and there's no guarantee that this witch will be as seedy as the rest. Just keep your wits about you. All you need is something to convince him to make a commitment to you. I understand Hera gave you a blessing during her latest visit."

Dynamene remembered the gilded pomegranate. "She did."

"Something about a guaranteed happy union, correct? She told me about it. There's your ticket to a happy ending; you just need to secure the union in the first place."

Dynamene smiled. "You're right. It was very kind of Hera to give me a blessing. I was so surprised."

"She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart," Aphrodite sighed, giving her curls a shake.

Dynamene's smile froze. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm..." Aphrodite puffed her cheeks, weighing her next words. "I'll let you in on a little insider's secret: she wants Poseidon married to force a crack in his armor."

Dynamene stared at her. "Pardon? His armor?"

"If Poseidon gets married and has a family, he'll have a weak spot. Hera knows that Poseidon is feared more than Zeus, and she loathes the possibility of him holding more influence. She wants to have a way to keep Poseidon in line. That's why she gave you that pomegranate." Aphrodite shook her head, wrapping a curl of hair idly about one finger.

Dynamene's head was spinning as she tried to put two and two together. "But... the blessing would be useless to her purpose unless she knew that one of us liked the other. So how...?"

Aphrodite giggled mischievously and gave Dynamene a wink. "I guess I'm not always the best secret keeper myself."

Dynamene stared at her, aghast. Hera would use me as a tool to get to Poseidon? Her eyes darted back and forth anxiously. I'm so stupid. Of course she wouldn't give a random blessing like that out of kindness; that's not how the Olympians usually function.

"Don't fret too much, dear Dynamene." Aphrodite's eyes darkened above her smile. "It doesn't really matter what the future after your union holds; not how miserable of a man Poseidon is, or what your relationship turns out to be. If you marry him while holding that blessing, you'll be happy no matter what your situation is."

Dynamene's gaze searched the goddess's face. Why did it seem like Aphrodite's expression was almost one of pity?

Happy... even if I shouldn't be?

"Rest assured, I am rooting for you, little Nereid. Now go; I'll send you near the witch's home. Or, at least where I think it is." The goddess of beauty shrugged her delicate shoulders.

White light enveloped Dynamene once more, and she braced herself. Before Aphrodite's palace disappeared, she heard the goddess call out one last time: "In exchange, I expect to be the first to know about your wedding night!"

---

Author’s notes:

Did you know, when I started this fanfiction, I planned it to be 4 parts and about 9000 words?

I am now past 32000. Help me.

Things are coming to a head, stay tuned.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

           “They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

           “Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

           The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

           “I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

           She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

           Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

           “I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

           He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

           “Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

           Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

           You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

           “Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

           “Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

           He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

           You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

           “It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

           That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

           “I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

           “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

           “I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

           Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

           A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

           “But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

           His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

           The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

           He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

           It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

           A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

           And you woke up.

           The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

           But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

           When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

           And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

           Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

           “How long have you been talking to Dean?”

           He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

           You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

           “Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

           Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

           “He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

           He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

           You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

           “It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

           You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

           “I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

           He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

           “The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

           “Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

           “I’m surprised you remembered.”

           Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

           “Can I help?”

           After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

           You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

           Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 18

March 1067 - Norman Conquest of England

Masterlist

Sorry for the delay! I started a new job this week and I’m exhausted. This is pure crappy filler but shit’s about to get really real.

Anyway, here you go!

Thomasin woke first. Henry was curled against her back like a shell, one arm draped over her waist. She wanted to shut her eyes again and relax into his hold but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay still no matter how hard she tried.

And she didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to face the repercussions of all those things she said and done. She’d tried to hit him. He was so solid that the force of it probably wouldn’t even have turned his head but she was still ashamed of herself for resorting to violence, especially against someone she loved.

Cared for, she corrected herself. You care for him. That’s all.

That thought, that word, pushed aside whatever was left of her will to stay. She’d fallen asleep fully dressed, her shoes still on her feet, so she didn’t have to waste time or rummage around for things before slipping out.

Kal was sleeping on his side in the antechamber, legs stretched out. His massive body took up a sizeable portion of the room. Thomasin shut the bedroom door behind her, stirring him from sleep. He quickly lifted his head and shoulders to scan for a threat, but he was too exhausted to make the rest of his body move.

“Hush,” Thomasin said. She knelt beside him and rubbed his chest. “Go back to sleep.” He sighed through his nose and lay back down.

Thomasin made it all of three steps into the corridor before she and Etheldreda smashed into each other. 

“Oh, milady!” the older woman said, clutching her chest. The basket of laundry in her arms had fallen to the ground, though she’d managed to keep her feet. “My apologies.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Thomasin said quickly. She knelt down to help Etheldreda gather the fallen clothing. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” And she’d entirely forgotten that Etheldreda would be coming as she did every morning to help her dress. 

“What are you doing out of bed, if I may ask?” the servant asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to . . . to pray. In the chapel.” That sounded plausible enough. 

She didn’t want to admit that she felt choked in that bedroom like the walls were closing in, how she felt in all small rooms. The same way she felt when she tried to run to freedom through that tunnel under her castle with all the others. But the walls had been too tight, the passage before her too dark, and she too cowardly to run. 

“Oh,” Etheldreda said. “Should I still prepare your rooms?”

“No thank you. Henry is still asleep. I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Of course.”

Thomasin did consider going to the chapel to pray but the king would likely be there. Pious, pious William. That priest might be there, too. Thomasin didn’t trust herself not to make a scene if she saw him. He must have taken Cerdic’s final confession. Given him the last rites. Blessed his grave.

Furious tears stung at her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t be angry with a priest for doing his duty – she should be grateful someone was there to shepherd Cerdic and the others from this world to the next. The priest may be a Saxon himself. He may have suffered, too – may still be suffering under the Normans. 

It didn’t matter. She needed to be angry at someone – preferably multiple someones – and she didn’t want to be angry with Henry anymore.

It was March now, and the relentless English winters were giving way to the island’s warped version of spring. It was misting outside as it always was, but Thomasin went to the gardens anyway.

She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised when she came around a bend along the path and saw Mercia stomping around in a puddle of mud. She also shouldn’t be surprised there was no adult in sight.

“Good morning,” she called.

“G’morning!” Mercia waved briefly before returning her concentration to the mud.

“Where’s your mother?” Thomasin asked.

“One of the ladies gonna have baby soon so Mamma go see her.” She jumped up and down, kicking the mud up so high it splashed on her cherubic face and pale curls.

“Who’s meant to be taking care of you?”

“Stina,” the girl replied. Thomasin thought that must be short for Christina.

“Where is Stina?”

Mercia shrugged innocently but Thomasin was quite sure the little girl had run from her governess, who was no doubt scouring the castle for the child. She pulled Batty out from under her arm and tossed the doll into the muck. “She like mud, too.”

“I see.” 

“You wanna play?” she asked. “Take off shoes. Mud feel funny.” She lifted a bare foot and wiggled her toes at Thomasin as if to show her.

“Not just now, but thank you.”

“When Simon coming home?” the little girl asked without looking up.

“I don’t know.” Thomasin swallowed. “You must miss him very much.”

She nodded. “Yeah. He my friend. And Mamma wants him be her special friend.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Mercia stopped kicking around. She looked up at Thomasin with a contemplative expression on her little face. “I not like you,” she said after a moment.

Thomasin was genuinely offended. She had only recently accepted the little hellion into her good graces; it was unthinkable that she be the one to reject Thomasin. “I beg your pardon?”

“You come back but not Simon and it make Mamma sad. Mamma loooooovve Simon.” She said the word with a blend of enthusiasm and disgust, as most children did.

“I believe you,” Thomasin replied.

“But she not say so yet cause she say a man gotta say so first when he ask to marry her. Ladies not supposed to say so first,” she said wisely. “Not like-lady.” Thomasin assumed the child meant to say ladylike. 

“I think that’s very wise.”

“When Henry say he love you?” the girl asked, wiping her nose on the back of her wrist. Thomasin was stunned into silence, which alarmed Mercia. “He say so first, right?”

“Yes.”

“When you say?”

Thomasin took a deep breath and kicked off her shoes. “Make room in that puddle for me.”

***

Henry woke late. His eyes and body were heavy. Seeing Thomasin cry last night caused him great distress, which in turn led to exhaustion.

He took his time getting ready for the day. He washed his face, hands, hair, and neck with water from a bowl beside the bed and waited for it to dry on its own before he dressed. Perhaps he would take a bath later on. Help him clear his mind.

He did not question why she wasn’t in the chamber with him. She needed to grieve alone, away from her husband’s smothering love and devotion. It would only infuriate her more.

Then there was the matter of her hating him. Henry didn’t believe that for an instant but he didn’t know how long Thomasin planned to hide behind that statement. 

Henry found Roger and Charlie practicing archery outside with a handful of other young knights. Their target was an apple balanced on the head of a squire due to be knighted soon; practicing their archery on him was a rite of passage among Henry’s circle. Their arrows had no metal head so they didn’t accidentally kill the poor boy. It still hurt like hell, though.

“Ah, Henry!” Roger called. He waved him over.

“Who’s winning?” he asked, sauntering over.

“Godfrey. He shot Guy in the shoulder and the thigh. Charlie got him in the stomach.”

Henry took the bow his brother offered him. “How are you faring, Guy?” he called out.

“Well enough,” the boy said, trying his best to sound sincere. “They’re at least letting me protect my eyes and my parts with my hands. They don’t always do that.”

“No, they don’t,” Henry agreed. “You know Charlie chipped a tooth when he did this. And Nik nearly got his balls blown off.” The arrow he shot landed in the grass near Guy’s feet. He was a terrible shot to begin with, but he didn’t want to hit the poor man. The memory of Thomasin’s injuries were too fresh.

He handed the bow off to Jarin, one of the nights who had assisted Thomasin after she was shot on the road.

“How are you?” Roger murmured to him.

“Well enough,” Henry said, rubbing the inside of his fingers with his thumb. It was a long time since he shot an arrow and he’d forgotten how unpleasant it was to do without the proper guards.

Roger rolled his dark eyes heavenward. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Must I drag it out of you?”

Henry glanced around at the others; they were too absorbed in their game to eavesdrop. “Thomasin found out. She wept.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen her weep before.”

Roger frowned. “I would be surprised if she didn’t. I’ll bet she slept well after that. You know my sister Bedelia loves weeping. Tries to do it at least twice a week.”

Henry looked horrified. “Why?”

His friend shrugged. “She says it makes her feel better. Sleep better, too.”

Some girls could conjure tears on a whim. Henry hoped Bedelia was that sort of girl; otherwise, she’d have to think about all sorts of awful things and get worked up before the tears came. Henry sincerely hoped Roger and Bedelia’s eldest sister, Piers’s wife, didn’t cry like that.

He thought of Thomasin’s tears again. She wasn’t the sort who could cry on command. Nor did she cry when it was perfectly warranted.

“Twice a week is too much,” Henry said. “Twice a month, I’d understand. I’d weep if I bled that much, too.” He muttered the last part under his breath.

“So, how’s Thomasin today?” he asked, accepting the bow from Charlie. “Any better?” His arrow whizzed past the left side of Guy’s face. 

“Haven’t seen her. She left this morning before I woke.” Henry aimed far to the left and his blunt arrow hit a tree and bounced off. “She doesn’t want me to see her grieving.” He sighed and passed the bow along. “I wish Simon were here. He would know what to do. He’s always been good with women.”

“Speaking of Simon and women,” Charlie chimed in, “I think Elaine’s ready to go fetch him and drag him back here herself.”

“We’ll have to find you a pretty Saxon woman next, Charlie,” Roger joked. Charlie cast him a glare almost identical to Thomasin’s. Roger and Henry were in stitches at that. 

Charlie waited long enough for the laughter to turn to coughing before he spoke again. “I’d rather have you pull my teeth out.”

***

It was late afternoon when Thomasin came back to the rooms she shared with Henry. She kicked around in the mud with Mercia for a while before the girl’s governess found her and retrieved her. She gave Thomasin a good talking-to, calling her a bad influence on the child. She’d spent the rest of the day praying for Cerdic and the others on a stone bench in the gardens.

Henry was in a copper tub set before the fire, viciously scouring his scalp with his fingernails and a bar of soap. Kal dozed on the bed, his eyes half-open.

Henry knew Thomasin was there, even though his back was to the door, but he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence. 

“I should not have said those things to you,” Thomasin said, looking anywhere but at Henry. She should probably add something else, something heartfelt, but nothing came to mind. “Will you forgive me?”

Henry leaned back in the tub and turned his head to see his wife. “Come here.” Thomasin shucked off her clothes and climbed into the tub, where Henry pulled her into his lap. He pressed her back against his chest and wound his arms around her waist. “I forgive you,” he murmured, holding her tight against him.

“You shouldn’t,” she muttered.

“But I do.” He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could kiss her neck.

Silence hung thick in the air. Say something, you fool! Thomasin screamed to herself. She groped for some sort of sentiment to express. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Henry sighed through his nose. He wasn’t disappointed, Thomasin knew, but he had wanted her to say something more.

She swallowed hard and apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

Henry let his hands roam over her body. “No more talk.”

***

Thomasin and her husband lay side by side in bed, their clothes strewn in clumps across the floor and their naked bodies glazed in perspiration.

“Lawrence said something to me,” she said thoughtfully. 

Henry was ready to attack at the mention of his name. “What did he say?”

“He said that Roger prefers men to women.”

Roger’s proclivities were something of an open secret, but it was never discussed. He never volunteered any information, and his friends never asked for it. The church condemned homosexuality as unnatural and unforgivable, an affront to God. None of Roger’s friends condemned him, though. Those who knew and were disgusted didn’t spend time around him; they shunned him utterly. His family – the few members that suspected – pretended not to know. 

“Don’t most men prefer other men, though?” asked Thomasin. “I am a woman and I prefer the company of other women. You are a man and you keep company with other men.”

“What exactly did Lawrence say?”

She didn’t want to tell him. She knew how he would react. “I asked him about what he did to that nobleman’s wife and daughters. This was when we were betrothed, you see, so I was within my rights to ask.” No woman had the right to ask that of a man, especially of Lawrence, but Thomasin had never let formalities stop her. “We discussed . . . Well, we agreed that soldiers often do terrible things to women during war.”

Anger flickered in Henry’s blue eyes. Lawrence had discussed rape with a woman? The fact that it was Thomasin was almost irrelevant; men simply did not speak of such things in the presence of a lady. It was deplorable. Vile. 

Thomasin continued before he had a chance to truly react. “And I said that you and your brothers had never done such a thing and neither had Roger.”

That softened Henry a bit. Not only did she have complete faith in him and his family, but she defended them to others.

“What did Lawrence say?”

“He said that the men in your family were an anomaly – that it was unusual for soldiers not to . . . He said that Roger’s perversion swayed him from women to men, but I don’t know what that means.”

Henry sighed. Thomasin would figure it out eventually – sooner rather than later, he wagered – so why not tell her? “Lawrence meant that Roger is not drawn to women. That he takes men to his bed instead.”

Henry waited quietly for Tom’s reaction. Some vomited at the thought of two men together like that, but Henry didn’t think she would.

She was thinking very hard. “How . . . how does that – does it – do they – that is . . . Is it even possible for them to be together like husband and wife?”

“What do you mean?”

“They haven’t . . . they haven’t got the proper parts for it.”

Henry threw his head back and laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

He shook his head, still grinning.

“Aren’t you going to explain it to me?” she prompted.

“No.”

“Henry, that’s monstrously unfair of you. Husbands are meant to instruct their wives on the way of the world.”

“Not that way of the world.” He gave her a peck. “If you can guess how it’s done, I’ll tell you whether or not you’re right.”

“I’m not imaginative enough for that.” Thomasin frowned. “Will you at least give me a hint?”

Henry laughed again.

***

It was an ungodly hour. Everyone in the castle was asleep. Even the few guards posted in the halls and the entryways were nodding off. They woke to the sound of thundering horses and men’s shouts. 

“Help us!”

The men were on their feet in an instant, spears raised. “Who goes there?!” one hollered into the darkness. 

It was a moment before nine horses, each with two men on its back, came into view. 

It was hard to see precisely what condition they were in as it was so dark, but it was clear the riders were in a bad way.

Three were slung over their horses like corpses, the men in the saddle behind each of them were at least partially armed, though only one of them looked entirely awake. On the other horses, where both men were well enough to sit up, their waists were tied together with thick cord; in case one of the riders lost consciousness, the other’s weight would keep him from falling.

“Help us!” another man shouted. “In the name of King William the Conqueror, help us!” 

They were Normans, then. Half the guards rushed down to help the men as the others raised the alarm.

The chief guard was horrified when he was close enough to really see the men. They looked half-dead. One was missing an arm; another was slashed across the face starting deep in his now-empty eye socket and ending at his mangled ear. The weakest man, the one strewn across the first man’s lap, was too covered in bandages and blood for the guard to be sure he was still breathing.”

“Fetch every healer you can find,” the knight behind the dying man said. “Tell the king that Simon Cavill is here. And he’s gravely wounded.”

_________________________________________________________

Medieval Fun fact: William the Conquerer’s son William II is widely believed to have been gay.

[badrpmemes]

Crooked House Sentence Starters

Sentence starters from Gilles Paquet-Brenner’s 2017 adaptation of Agatha Christie’s 1949 novel, Crooked House. Feel free to change details as needed.

I'm sorry to surprise you like this, but I wasn't sure you'd agree to see me.

It's a family business.

For a fee, of course.

You should at least think about it.

A hard act to follow.

All right. Two days. Then I call in the hounds.

Though I do find a shotgun best expresses my feelings.

____ likes to think he rescued me.

We had a special bond.

Well, you said you were frightened.

We're a very odd family.

There's lots of ruthlessness in us, and different kinds of ruthlessness.

So you find out people's secrets?

I am by far the cleverest person in this house.

Much too frivolous for the occasion.

I drank far too much claret last night.

Hair of the dog, darling.

I must admit I am more of a cinema enthusiast.

You are twisting my words.

Can you make an effort now, please? For me?

Of course, the odds are against you.

I lost a poker game to the wrong people.

Besides, who actually wants to work for a living?

You don't seem remotely sad about it.

Can't I play detective too?

You don't smell of alcohol. Is ____ still asleep?

Good boy. Keeping a clear head.

Do feel free to come and go as you please.

I'm sorry, the door was open.

I know all there is to know about poisons.

I don't suppose you ever bring your work home with you, now?

Who told you it works?

If you're not careful, you may find yourself facing an accusation of slander.

How can you defame a murderess?

Perhaps we could continue this at a later date?

Being the favorite child isn't all jam.

Please. I like to keep busy.

Why, you're not what I expected at all.

Please, don't think that crying is my natural state.

I dreamed of someone nice, who would make a fuss over me.

I have a delicate question for you.

But rumor has it that you two get along well.

What do these people know about the real world anyway?

Are you done with your interrogation?

You're lucky you're able to talk to them.

You're making this up, aren't you?

People don't pay attention to me in this house.

It is a hothouse of suppressed passion.

Will you shut up and light my bloody cigarette?

I hope I can rely on your absolute discretion here.

You're an extremely intrusive person, ____.

This sort of money would solve most people's problems.

All I ever did was let him down.

Don't creep up on people like that.

People who eavesdrop seldom hear good of themselves.

Buddy, you're being followed.

I believe we have a mutual friend.

He's right, you are a clown.

There's politics involved here. It's sensitive.

Now, give me something, so I can still have faith in you.

If anything, you're Watson.

Well, why don't you enlighten me, Holmes?

I often make things up. It stops me from getting too bored.

Sometimes people don't know what they know.

Not everything they say on television is true.

I'd say we're due another murder.

You really seem to make a habit of barging in, don't you?

I'm not sure the world needs to know about that.

My car seems to have broken down.

Would you like me to take you home?

I've just invited ____ to stay the night.

Now that's a much more interesting idea.

Please don't make me miss all the fun.

Your presence seems to have brought everyone together.

I'm sure he thinks of all of us as potential murderers.

I don't envy you your job.

You see now why I didn't want you involved with my family?

There's nothing like a real heart-to-heart.

You're just like the rest. Take her to bed and be done with it.

Oh, what a high moral tone you're taking.

I have to give it to her. She's got a special gift for dividing people.

You've been in the wars.

They could kill you in an instant if they really wanted to.

My poor cherub.

It's one hell of a burden on your shoulders.

You are an extremely clever woman.

I have seen what it takes to operate at a certain level, and it is not always pretty.

You old hypocrite!

You redeemed yourself at the last moment.

Always leave a party at its height...when you're most enjoying it.

Perhaps she wasn't the intended target.

Nobody gets to leave here without my express permission.

Every time we make you disappear, you keep popping back up.

Is there anyone you're remotely fond of?

Oh, my darling. I love you more than you'll ever know.

I think they'll have everything we could possibly want once we get there.

I certainly had a good reason to do it, though.

Today, I have to be very brave.

But every task worth doing has a hard bit.

What did we do to her?

No, no, it's okay. It wasn't you.

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[mashiraostail]

please momnight conent? Like student reader is upset/struggling with the material and goes to her for help or something literally please momnight im begging u

omg u do not have to beg kind anon i am happy to write momnight

“I’m sorry I feel really stupid..” You scrub at your face sitting in front of your teacher, she’s crouched down to eye level, one arm draped across your desk. “I just don’t understand this part at all..” You set your pencil down to use both hands, scrubbing at both of your eyes now.  “Hey come on, don’t say that!” Nemuri squeezes your wrist, “you’ll hurt yourself, just try reading it over again, sometimes that’s all it takes to get it to click.”  “I’m wasting your time, you have way more important things to be doing.” You mutter, “I’m sorry Midnight I think I’m a lost cause.” She lets out a loud gasp at that.  “Don’t say that sort of thing! NO way are you a lost cause!” She closes the book between you, “look at me.”  “I’m embarrassed. I know I’m strong but when it comes to bookish stuff I’m totally useless. You must think I’m an absolute moron-”  “No, I think Present Mic is a total moron.” She rests her chin in her hand as you finally look at her, chuckling to yourself over her jab at your English teacher.  “There we go. A little smile helps you feel much better huh?” She nudges your calf underneath the desk, you nod meekly.  “And anyways... I don’t think you’re a moron, I think you’re a kid. A student with a lot to learn. But you’re learning, even if its hard. Honestly, that's commendable, if this doesn’t come naturally to you putting in all the work to still do well is admirable, you don’t have to be the best you just have to do your best.”  “But I-” “No buts.” She frowns, “don’t talk back to your teacher.”  “Ow did you just pinch me- stop!” You pull your legs up into your chair as her attack on your leg continues.  “No one is good at everything. And yes I mean no one. Not a single person.”  “Well... what about All Might?” As soon as you finish she’s rolling her eyes. “He can’t even make a cup of coffee, and he’s never sent me a text that doesn’t have some sort of spelling error.”  “Principal Nezu?”  “He’s not a person he doesn’t count.”  You snort at that and rest your chin against your bent knees. “Well what about you? It sure seems like your good at everything...” You hug your legs to your chest and she pricks up a bit as you continue, “I just wanna be like you. You’re strong and smart and everyone likes you and you’re reliable and even if people underestimate you you always prove them wrong, even when you aren’t in the spotlight you’re doing the most to help...I... I wanna be like that, I wanna be just like you Miss Kayama.”  “Oh god I...I think I’m gonna cry.” She sucks in a deep breath. “What? Why would you do that dont-! Don’t cry!” You fumble as she sits back on her haunches.  “Well then don’t be such a little cherub!” She argues and then sighs, “look, I’ll be honest with you okay?” She reaches out and takes your hand, “it’s a really long time coming. Three years is a lot longer than it seems, and you’ve got a lot to learn. But you’re right, you are strong, and you are smart, smarter than you think.” She promises as she rests her chin on your desk, “even by coming to me for help you’ve proven how much you want this, how much you care about getting to your destination and..you know between you and I..you really do remind me of myself when I was your age.” She sighs wistfully and you grin at her, “yes you do, we’re practically spitting images of each other.”  “Shut up Midnight.” You chortle, unfolding your legs. “Ouch! What happened to Miss Kayama?!”” She pouts, picking her head up, “I’ll report you for insubordinance.”  “No you won’t.” You cheese at her and she shrugs, waving her hand.  “Ehhhh, yeah I guess you’re right. I won’t. especially not after you said you think I’m perfect.”  “Well are you or aren’t you?”  “Hm...I’d like to think I am.” She taps her bottom lip with her free hand and you snort, “though Mic says I have a terrible music taste, and Eraser says my sense of humor is shot...once Vlad told me I’m the worst driver he’s ever had the displeasure of accompanying on a grocery run, All Might says I’ve got one of the messiest cars he’s ever seen...oh Hound Dog also told me once that I make the worst cup of coffee on the planet and Cementoss agreed with him. But those are just opinions and they’re subjective so I’m...subjecting them to the trash.”  “I don’t think that’s how constructive criticism is meant to work.” You grin at the thought of her fellow teachers digging into her though.  “Ehhh..you say tomato..” She waves it off and then piques, “now I’ve got a question.” “if it’s about this material then sorry because I’m really shot for-”  “No, no. You really want to be like me?”  You flush, you can feel it in your ears, you murmur, “...yes...”  “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you-”  “Yes!” You shout it a little louder than intended but she’s just laughing. “Really? Me?” I didn’t think I was exactly childhood role-model material.”  “That’s why I liked you..” You pluck at the fabric of your shirt, “everyone always wrote you off, but you always came through in the end, you always proved you were a lot more than your branding. I thought it was cool...that you didn’t try to be one dimensional, that you could be pretty and strong and smart.” You look up at her, “everyone likes you, everyone relies on you. I want to be that sort of strong. Forget picking up cars, forget punching in villains..I want people to need me like they need you. Like I need you.”  “Wow, I’m really gonna cry.”  “I told you don’t cry!” You snap, “you’re embarrassing me.” You cross your arms and she gasps. “You’re the one who went on the wild tangent!” Her laughter fizzles out and she stands, “come on.” She offers you a hand, “I think you get to call it for the afternoon, you’re probably the last student left here.”  You let her pull you out of your seat, she wraps an arm around you and squeezes you into her side, “how about an extra day to work on the assignment?”  “Are you playing favorites?” You ask her wearily.  “No. If someone else needs an extra day all they need to do is ask.” She hums, “try rereading the chapter tonight, and writing a summary of it. Give that to me tomorrow and I’ll let you know if you’re on the right track.”  “What if I’m not?” You gnaw at your lip nervously. “That’s what I’m here for, duh. Now let me walk you back to the dorms.” 

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 18

18/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

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

The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it. 

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned. 

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back. 

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks. 

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth. 

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?” 

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

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

Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it. 

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy. 

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste. 

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on. 

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

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

The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair. 

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely. 

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.” 

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile. 

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty. 

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

Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one. 

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes. 

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it. 

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks. 

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table. 

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household. 

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all. 

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

Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.” 

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest. 

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.” 

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control. 

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays. 

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room. 

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger. 

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile. 

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips. 

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue. 

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring. 

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases. 

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right? 

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it 

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies. 

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life. 

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is. 

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

It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully. 

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes. 

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it. 

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it. 

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers. 

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile. 

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it. 

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment. 

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens. 

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it. 

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.” 

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily.  His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.” 

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him. 

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.” 

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes. 

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”