#nothing in the parenting books prepared me for this

[leos-regression-cove]

Nothing in the Parenting Books Prepared me for This

Chapter 66: Children's Museum trip

Synopsis: Daycare is having a field trip to the nearby children’s museum! Thor and Mobius come along as chaperones. At first, everything seems chipper, but Loki is so fixated and impatient about visiting the "storybook cottage" and Mobius' hands are so full, that it's only a matter of time before things start going wrong.

Word count: 6,575

Stand Alone?: yes

Warnings: 1 swear, Bucky's abandonment issues,

Notes: I think I need to stop using my plotting structure the way I have been because last time, I ended up needing to break the story up into 4 chapters, but this one is just really really L O N G

Read it on AO3!

“So, how was daycare?” Mobius asked over dinner. 

Loki had been nearly vibrating waiting to talk to his whole family about it ever since he got picked up a couple hours ago, but every time he spoke it was only met with “you’ll have to tell us about it over dinner.” Now was his chance. 

“Um!” he started to make sure that he had everyone’s attention. “Daycare’s having a field trip,” he hummed happily.

Sylvie looked astonished and slightly offended that she had not been given this news sooner, slipping slightly as she asked “Where?!” 

“The museum.”

“Oh… ew.” 

“Mm! No, not the boring one-- The fun one.” 

“Fun one?” 

“The children’s museum?” Mobius offered. 

“That one,” Loki agreed with his mouth full of mushy yam, licking his fingers. 

“What’s that?” Thor asked. 

Mobius and Loki both paused as they tried to think of how to explain it to Thor and Sylvie.

“It’s a big play area,” Mobius began. “But it’s more than just a playground. They have crafts and activities, some have science experiments and demonstrations kids can do… Once I had a case at one that was filled with dramatic play rooms. Like your corner at daycare with the salon game setup?” 

“Um, it's grocery store now,” Loki corrected. 

“Grocery store is pretty common, too. So imagine that, but it's big.”

“...A real grocery store?” Sylvie asked. 

“No, no, littles and kids run it still, y’know? And the food is fake.”

“Oh,” Sylvie seemed intrigued.

“So, anyway,” Loki started up again. “They need chaperones and I think daddy an’ Thor should come.” 

Sylvie agreed with this. 

Thor shrugged and nodded. 

“I dunno kiddo. I’m kind of swamped after last week’s attack…we’ve got a meeting with the Indonesian government next Tuesday… What day is it?”

“Um… I dunno,” Loki admitted, pretending he was very distracted by his dinner. 

“Alright, well I’ll talk to Ms.Vaughn and see if we can work something out.” 

And they did. 

Thursday, at 8:30 am sharp, Mobius, Thor, Sam Wilson, Ms.Vaughn, and twenty excited littles waited outside the daycare in the freezing cold for the bus. 

A few of the tots shivered and sat still, others warmed up by hopping in place or chasing each other around the parking lot until they were caught and given stern a talking to about safety. 

Loki had chosen to climb up his brother’s back, overseeing the lot from about nine feet up, with his legs around Thor’s neck. 

A bright yellow bus pulled into the driveway. 

The chaperones worked together to shepard the little ones, ranging between 3 and 8 in headspace, onto the bus. But they didn’t sit down quite yet like the little ones did. Mobius and Thor left Loki and Sylvie to make sure there were only two littles per seat, breaking up groups of three or four, who thought they could get away with having a friend in their lap or scrunched by the window. 

Loki sat with his daddy at the front of the bus, in a spot where he could be supervised closely by several adults. 

Regardless of the supervision, Loki still stood up on his knees and turned around to talk with Scott behind him. “Have you ever been to a children’s museum?” Loki asked. 

“Loki, sit down!” Mobius chided him, tapping on the back of his thighs.

Loki ignored him. 

“Ah, yeah. But not this one. Momma looked it up for me though and it looks fun,” Scott answered. 

“Does it?”

“Yeah, there’s a big playground, lots of playrooms, science stuff, a big garden with mud, arts, and -- oh-- you and Sylvie are gonna like the storybooks cottage a lot.”

“Storybook cottage?!” Loki repeated. 

“Loki! Sit down, now,” Mobius hissed at him again. 

Loki sat down, but still peeked around the side of the seat to look back at Sylvie and Thor a few rows back. “Sylvie! Did you hear that?” 

Sylvie crawled over Thor’s lap to look at him. “I can’t hear you!” she yelled. 

“Sylvie, let’s use our inside voices,” Mobius reminded her as he pushed Loki off his lap and back up into his seat. “Jeez, I know you kids are excited, but can you just try and behave on the bus?” he chuckled. 

The facade to the building, in its old, colonial, red brick was horribly misleading. Its quiet, historic, nature gave way to absolute chaos once Loki stepped inside.

The inside wasn’t loud, but it was echoey. Most of the building was filled with many experiments, exhibits, and toys that wound and weaved around one another throughout a maze of short walls and boundaries, not quite attached enough to make individual rooms in a traditional sense. 

Things moved throughout on their own: screens with games flashed or moved with idle waiting animations, water cycled through one exhibit, and a tiny model train circled the perimeter of the building, and those were only things Loki could pick out of the chaos of 19 other littles and four adults all trying to herd them. 

Sylvie raised herself onto her tippy-toes, then back down over and over and over again, rocking back and forth and nearly bouncing in place, flicking her attention between exit doors, and the busy, moving toys, as if looking for sneaking figures. 

Thor put a hand on her back to steady her, providing a little comfort.

 This level of excitement seemed to be relatively common, Loki observed as he held on tightly to his daddy. The only one who wasn’t experiencing the same sort of pent up energy seemed to be Bucky. 

Well, maybe that was incorrect. Bucky had pent up energy, but it wasn’t the chatty, hyperactive, and curious sort of energy. It was fearful and cautious. He looked like he was about to cry, as Sam set a head on his shoulder and rocked him back and forth in a backwards hug while keeping a straight face.

Eventually, Loki and the rest of the group were instructed to put up their “quiet coyote” hands for another roll call, an introduction to the museum, a rundown of safety information, rules, and an itinerary. 

Even as they outlined the summary, this all sounded very very boring to Loki. 

He looked to his daddy, but Mobius seemed to be paying attention. So, then the little did the next best thing. 

“Psst Thor!” he tugged on the sleeve of his brother’s shirt. 

Once he knew he got Thor’s attention, Loki waved a hand, beckoning him closer. 

Thor leaned in to let his brother whisper something in his ear. 

“This is boring!” Loki whispered. 

“I know, brother, but it is important. Try to listen.”

Sylvie came around Thor’s backside to listen in. “It is boring,” she agreed. “Can we go play over there instead?” 

“Psst!” Mobius got all of their attention. 

The three looked up to realize that the presentation had stopped and most, if not all, heads were looking at them. 

Thor gave the both of them a small elbowing. 

As soon as the presenter continued, Loki stuck his tongue out at his brother.

Apparently, he chose the wrong time to do that, as Mobius quickly picked him up. Now he was really in for a stern talking to once the groups broke. 

Halfway through the safety presentation, while they were being told when shoes need to be off and what age groups are allowed where, a phone began to ring. Loudly. 

Loki searched for the source of it, only for Sam to apologetically reach in his pocket and say “Sorry I gotta take this.” 

He stepped away, taking a quick second to reassure Bucky that this would all be fine and Mobius and Thor were here-- He was safe and with his friends-- before kissing him on the cheek. It would just be a moment. 

Bucky almost looked angry. His entire body stiffened the second that Sam left, with his only perceptible movement being a trembling lower lip. 

Loki stared at him probably longer than he should have. 

Mobius maneuvered his little into one arm, with some slight discomfort and struggle, even though Loki was happy to cooperate. 

Then with his free hand, Mobius reached out behind him, ready to take another trauma-ridden and finicky little under his wing. At least, that was how Loki interpreted it. Maybe Mobius just felt bad and knew if Bucky could trust anyone who wasn’t his daddy, it would be someone from their household. 

Metal fingers clamped onto Mobius’ jacket sleeve. Not his offered hand, nor his arm itself, but the loose fabric around his bicep. 

Mobius tried to quietly soothe the other child, but since he couldn’t speak, physical touch wasn’t something Bucky particularly liked, and he had Loki sitting in his other arm, there wasn’t much he could offer besides a sympathetic look. 

There was a moment after instructions were explained and the littles were set free into the first exhibit, where Mobius was held in place by the pinch, while Bucky kept staring out the window. 

“You wanna run along with Sylvie?” Mobius asked. “I’ll catch up to you.”

Before Loki could wiggle down onto the floor and go play, Sam turned off his phone and came inside. He had missed his opportunity to get out and curiosity now held him in place, especially since Sam did not look happy. 

Bucky and Mobius simultaneously tensed.

“I… gotta go,” Sam said apologetically. “Fury said it’s an emergency.”

“...Yeah… take all the time you need.” Mobius said. He didn’t really mean it, and Sam didn't really want to hear it. 

“You’re going to be good for me, Bucky-bear. Mobius and Ms.Vaughn are right here. All your friends are here. It’s just like being at daycare.” 

Bucky looked down away from him, but didn’t respond at all, keeping his hands held firmly at his side.

“You’re gonna run around and have fun, and I’ll be back before lunch.”  

Bucky still barely moved. “...You promise?” he mumbled. 

“Yeah bud, I promise. This is just a quick errand. I pinky promise it.” 

Bucky hesitantly hooked pinkies with his caregiver as if it were an embarrassment. Then, he got a big hug and a rub on the back before Sam went to find the busy teacher and tell her about the situation. 

Mobius looked back at Bucky. “You ready to go try and have some fun? Sylvie, Scott, Thor, and Clint are all waiting for us. We shouldn’t leave them hanging, don’t you think?” 

Bucky followed behind them from a few feet away with crossed arms, dragging his feet. Neither Loki nor Mobius were unaccustomed to this behavior, and chose to let him mope, although staying close, just in case he needed it. 

“Daddy?” Loki asked. “Can we go to the Storybook Cottage?” He was slower with his words, leaving room for a childish cadence that snuck in between syllables. 

“Let’s put a pin in that one, pumpkin, and stick with the group for now. Just until Sam comes back. Then I’ll take you.” 

Loki frowned. “Can you play?” he asked. 

Mobius looked back at Bucky again. “I think I gotta look after this big guy. I know Sylvie and your friends wanna play though.” 

Loki bit his cheek and broke away from his caregiver slowly, walking towards a climbing net and starting to put his feet in the first holds. Maybe once he reached the tubes where Sylvie and his other friends were crawling, they’d have a game for him to join. 

Unfortunately, a climbing net of this size and scope was a little tough for Loki. It was easily ten feet up, and when you’ve only got socks on a thin, rope, surface, grip can be difficult to maintain. He slinked up it, making quite the effort. 

He could see Sylvie behind a clear plastic barrier a few feet above, snickering. 

He frowned at her and tried to climb up further, slipping and nearly falling down to the cushy, padded ground. 

“Loki, you wanna come over here? There’s a tot playground that may be more your speed,” Mobius suggested. It was apparent he really was trying to be helpful. 

But Loki was big today. He wasn’t a baby. Not totally at least. 

Sylvie slid down a slide a few feet away and stood behind him. 

“Here to mock me?” he asked, way more bitterly than he really meant to sound. 

“Only if you keep speaking like a grown-up… and trying to go up the net.” 

“What’s wrong with the net?” 

“That’s not how you climb up. Look! Here are the stairs.” She showed him to a tower with a small doorway in it. Surely enough, it was a spiral staircase. 

Loki began to walk up them. 

“Move!” Sylvie commanded, giving him a slight shove. 

“I’m going! I’m going!” he shouted back, beginning to jog. 

Although the jungle gym was expansive, and Loki enjoyed seeing his friends, he was decidedly relieved when a “Ding!” noise played over the intercom system and the chaperones helped the little ones into the next room. 

Thor slid down one of the slides with Loki in his lap and Sylvie right behind the both of them. 

He picked the boy up and seemed to understand that Loki wasn’t feeling very small yet. All the little energy had seeped out of him through hours in transport and a long lecture. Not even that 20 minutes on the playground had helped him regain the childish spark he usually had. 

Thor raspberried the boy’s hands.

Loki paused, a bit taken aback as something clicked. A grin crept onto his face. 

“He’s been revived!” he cheered.

Loki reached out and tried to wipe his spit covered hands on Sylvie. He made a gibberish yelp of “yuck!”

Thankfully for Loki, the next exhibit the littles were encouraged to explore was called the “messy room” and he was given the opportunity to wash his hands and put on a smock with all the other littles… and Thor… and Mobius? Oh! Everyone got a plastic yellow smock. 

The area was really two exhibits, not one. It was closer to a “smock zone” than anything: most of the room was filled with paints, bath crayons, paper, some sort of wheat-paste (to attach the paper to a wall), and even shaving cream, all sorts of messy substances to paint all over the room with, and on the other side was… Well, Loki didn’t care… Something else, he assumed. All he knew was he had to clean up before heading over there. His hands were too covered in child-safe liquidy-glue to think about that. He pressed ripped tissue paper against a small corner of the clear wall to create a stained glass effect, sitting on the paper-covered floor. 

A drop of paint fell on his nose. 

Loki looked up to see Thor above him, finger painting diligently and with an amount of focus almost unheard of for him. 

Then, Loki looked for the rest of his friends, still sticking scraps of paper to the wall. 

Sylvie was still at the materials table, squishing her hands in colorful slime that stuck to her. She didn’t actually seem interested in getting the mess- oh, no, nevermind. She flicked it everywhere, all over the paper floor and probably into the back of Loki’s hair. Definitely into Thor’s. 

Mobius was on the other side of the glass with Bucky, not many littles were. It was further from the materials section and the floor paper didn’t stretch so far, so most tots just stuck to the closer side. They were drawing with bath crayons and quietly talking. Mobius was trying so hard to be peaceful, really channeling his inner Mister Rogers. Just looking at them almost made Loki want to yawn and put his thumb in his mouth, an urge he needed to resist. 

Loki stood up to grab more paper, almost bumping Thor and a few other littles as he did so. 

“Loki! Look!” Thor called. “Come see what I made, brother!”

Loki stood close to him while wiping his hand on his smock. He could not figure out what he was looking at.

Thor must’ve noticed. “That ones me, and there’s Sylvie, and you, and then there’s da-- your daddy. When we got that big monster!” 

Loki sucked in his cheeks and nodded understandingly. 

“You don’t like it?” Thor asked, heartbroken by Loki’s reserved reaction. 

“Is good,” Loki hurriedly added, but maybe Thor didn’t hear him. 

“Sylvie! Look what I painted!” he called.

Mobius looked up from what he was doing at the same time Sylvie did. 

She brought her green goop with her, sliding it around in her hands, staining them as she joined the brothers in admiring the work. “Is that us?” she asked with a certain performative enthusiasm: Her caregiving voice. 

Thor nodded, rather pleased with himself. 

“We should get daddy to take a picture, don’t you think?”

“Yeah!” Loki agreed, slapping the glass.

Mobius paused and told Bucky something before walking around. His eyebrows were just slightly knitted with concern, but he smiled anyway. 

“Woah, hey Thor, did you paint that?” Mobius asked, looking at the stick figures. “We look great!” 

“Take a photo of it! For the fridge!” Sylvie  suggested.

Mobius fumbled in his pocket for his phone and took a snapshot, before showing it to the littles, and Thor just to make sure they liked it. 

Thor grinned and tapped his feet, making a girlish squeal.

“Saved!” he smiled, before patting Thor on the shoulder and returning to his own drawing. Later on, Loki would catch him taking a photo of his own handiwork, and several other of the littles’ creations. He showed Bucky his phone. “Should I send that one to your daddy?” he asked. 

Bucky had silently nodded. 

Meanwhile, Loki had decided he was done with this activity, even if the alarm hadn’t rung yet. He needed to see where the other littles were doing on the far side of the room. 

He washed his hands, and encouraged Sylvie and Thor to do the same. 

“You took me away from slime for this?” Sylvie asked incredulously. “For water?”

Apparently, the other, not-so-messy activity was a large water table. 

Although Sylvie immediately went back to her green ooblek, Thor definitely took interest, maybe even more than Loki. He picked up a plastic frog and set it into the water, running it under a waterfall and then setting it into the bucket of a water wheel. 

Loki stood next to him, but really didn’t get involved as much as he simply watched his big brother who… probably should’ve been watching other littles. Maybe that defense would still work. Loki looked up. There were two other tots at the water table. Three out of 20… not great, but still, that area needed a little supervision. 

Loki set some marbles into a run, sending them down a slide of rushing, babbling fluid. He clapped and giggled when they plunked into the water. 

Then, he grabbed one, and shoved it into one of the rushing water pipes with his finger. He pushed against the current with his hands, and then when he couldn’t use those anymore, he switched to magic trying to see how far down the clear pipe he could get it. Then, when the pumping fan began to sputter, he let it out, watching the ball float back up and out into the water. 

Thor raced a boat from one end to another as Loki messed with all the dials, buttons, and levers on enticingly lit and bubbling tubes of water, but even then, he had something else on his mind. 

“Um, Thor?”

“Yes, brother?” Thor asked, slightly distractedly.

“Can we go? I wanna see the Storybook Cottage…”

Thor grinned and almost agreed, but his face then fell. “I need to watch over the little ones…” 

“I’ma little one!” 

“Yeah but…” Thor drew a deep breath considering his words carefully. “I’m having fun.” … Okay maybe not too carefully. 

Loki whined and stomped his feet. “Please?” 

“Can’t you just enjoy all this? It’s magical!” 

Loki scrunched up his nose at that. None of this was magic. It was kind of interesting, but it was NOT magic. He knew magic. 

The plastic frog spit at Thor and waves upon waves began to rock the table, sending Thor’s wooden boat capsizing as the tides crashed against him. His whole front was being drenched. 

“Loki! Don’t lose your temper at me!” the god giggled as he was hit with a beam of spraying water from a “malfunctioning” tube. He really meant for it to sound intimidating, but how could it?

“Loki!” Mobius was not so lenient. He ran over and pulled Loki up against his clean smock, breaking the little’s concentration and the streams of water. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Loki hesitated, trying to think of an excuse. Then he put a hand in his mouth and teared up. 

“That’s not gonna work this time. bud. You gotta talk to me. What’s got you spraying Thor with water? C’mon, I know you’ve got a nice big headspace today.” 

“He said no!” 

“No to…”

“Going to the storybook cottage!” 

“Oh, Loki, we’ll get there eventually. Be patient. You wanna maybe regress down a bit? Play with some of the extra stuff that the big kids don’t get to? That’ll keep ya busy.” He reached into his pocket, having trouble with the yellow smock around him to find Loki’s pacifier. 

Loki furrowed his brows as he took it. 

“You wanna hold my hand until we get to the next room?” 

“No?” Loki mumbled. 

Mobius didn’t answer that, and Loki knew he didn’t really have a choice unless he wanted to be sitting in the quiet sensory room the whole trip. 

The loudspeaker finally rang like the daycare bell, signaling the little ones to head to the next activity room (after they cleaned up, of course, which was a more daunting task for some than others.)

The next room, Loki didn’t really care about. He didn’t like that there was ANOTHER room. He wanted to go to the cottage, an outbuilding in the backyard he could see from the windows of the main museum. 

But he had already tried to make that known and look where it had gotten him, being pulled by the wrist into the next room alongside his daddy and fussy, sad, Bucky Barnes, who still refused to lighten up, even after a whole hour. 

Although, to be fair, Loki hadn’t done much lightening up, himself. 

Oh more science. How special. Loki wasn’t so big of a fan of the STEM push. No Migardian trick of science could impress him. Especially not something like wind. 

Clear, bendable tubes covered one wall, where littles were instructed to connect them together in interesting paths to float a ball of yarn through. 

Similarly, a tube of wind stood in the center of the room with written instructions about how to make and test the flying capabilities of different objects. 

Loki looked at it and slid his hand into the vortex before Mobius caught him by the collar and pulled him away, pointing to a red icon on the sign. 

The little frowned at him and then crossed his arms. 

“You can play with it, just maybe don’t stick your hand up there,” Mobius tried to explain. 

Any notion of fun had already been ruined though. Loki furrowed his brows, starting to stomp again and throw a fit. 

But Mobius didn’t listen. He was running over to talk to two kids who looked like they were getting into a fight and then stop three curious littles looking out the door towards the next exhibit. 

Thor was busy helping Sylvie connect wind tubes together. They appeared to be enjoying themselves, Loki noted. 

He sat in a corner with his back pressed up against the large windows of the room like a dramatic princess, people watching a little more than he cared to admit.

There was a moment where Thor seemed to remember why he was here and briefly left Sylvie’s side to attend to Clint and Scott who were asking him when lunch was and if he could do tricks with the wind too, if he was so good with thunder. 

Loki rolled his eyes at their praises of him. As if he was a celebrity and not their coworker and friend’s big brother. Why didn’t they ever talk to him like that? Loki pushed something invisible with his foot, administering a small kick towards the empty space in front of him. 

But, there was something he could use in this situation… 

“Sylvie?” he asked, as casually as he could. “Are you bored? As bored as I am?” 

She shrugged. “A little bit.” 

“Wind’s not very fun… Would you like to do something else?” 

She shrugged again, not really paying attention to him as she adjusted two plastic tubes to fit together. “Maybe…” She prompted. 

“Can we go to the story cottage?” 

Sylvie weighed her options, looked at the other littles, the adults, and then back at Loki. “Fine. But only for a moment so you can get a look at it. Daddy said we’re having lunch soon.” 

Loki grinned. “Thank you thank you thank you!” he repeated. 

He didn’t bother casting doubles today. He was already so tired, and Mobius’ hands were too full to really realize if they were gone. Bucky at some angles sort of looked like him. That would fill any gap he left in the classroom ecosystem.

Mobius looked around the room rather frantically. It felt like every time he solved one issue, another three cropped up. He wasn’t the only chaperone, but Ms. Vaughn was running around just as busily as he was and… Thor had seemingly joined the other team. As much as the god had said “regression wasn’t for him”, it sure did feel like it was. 

20 and a half littles to watch between two caregivers… that was a lot, especially with 6 superpowered ones. He wished Sam was back, probably just as much as Bucky did. He looked back at the little guy, just to make sure he was doing alright.

It also seemed like things had gotten suddenly quieter. None of the super littles were the ones being loud or aggressive with one another. It was mostly the normal ones Mobius found himself watching out for, as Thor kept the other fi-- wait.. Hang on. There were only three littles working with Thor… Then Mobius stopped, counted and… shit. 

The door to the cottage was unlocked and opened immediately, even though Sylvie had obviously planned on kicking it down. 

The inside was a bit cramped, but more in a cozy sense than anything. Loki crept inside, before realizing that the floor was heavily cushioned and his head clipped the top of the ceiling. So, he instead, after glancing at Sylvie, crouched down, and then crawled. 

“It’s just another baby exhibit, Loki,” Sylvie told him. 

She could still comfortably stand, even though she needed to avoid pillows, stuffed animals, and child-sized scene setting furniture. 

Loki stopped and took a book off a shelf, opening it to peer at the pictures while cushioned by pillows. 

“It’s no different from the reading corner at school.” 

He ignored her, shuffling on his knees into the other rooms of the cottage, exploring the kitchen and bedrooms curiously. 

“Loki!” she whined as she followed him around. “Don’t make me mummy for you right now… please? Now you’ve seen it, let’s just go back to Daddy and Thor. They’ll bring you over later! I’m too small to be a good big sister!” 

Loki paused when she finally caught him, pulling him back, away from the 3 bears beds and into her arms. He mumbled while pulling away from her grasp around his wrists until she finally restrained him into her lap. 

“We’ll come back after lunch! That’s what daddy said! There’s other baby things for you to play with in the normal room!” 

Loki thrashed against her, kicking into some of the pillows and started to cry. 

“Loki! You’re being loud!” She shushed him.

But it wasn’t the thought of having to leave that got Loki so upset. 

“I’m going and you’re going to come with me or not. Your choice.” 

When she let him go, Loki resigned himself to a corner, just like he had in the wind room. She was right. It was just like the reading corner at school or their living room at home. There was nothing special about it. Even the stories inside were the same ones he had been read over and over again. “The Classics” as the adults liked to call them. Hey Diddle Diddle and all those rhymes and songs that masqueraded as stories. 

The decor was… fine, but it was probably just as interesting as anything else in the museum. Maybe even less interesting. It did remind him of home, a bit, with its muted Victorian browns and bronzes but it wasn’t satisfying in any special way. 

Reluctantly, he took Sylvie’s hand and followed her outside, dropping the fringed pillow he was clutching.

She shut the door behind him and seemed almost satisfied with herself. They went back through the same glass door they had come through, but it looked like the group had already moved on to the next activity. 

The little ones searched the big, open, echoey areas for their daddy and Thor. Being alone in such a place almost seemed like a dream come true but neither of them really felt any mischievous inclination. 

Loki sat down, once they had circled the first floor and returned to moping. 

“Stop that!” Sylvie commanded him, administering a small kick to his midsection, more in a nudging way than one meant to cause pain. 

“There you two are!” Sam said. 

Somehow, in the time they were gone, there was a chance for the entire group to disappear, and for Sam to come back. He was carrying Bucky on his back, but the little’s face wasn’t visible. 

“You know where the lunch room is, right?” he asked. 

Loki shook his head and Sylvie stared at him blankly. 

“Here, follow me.” 

Loki took his hand and tried not to look like he had been crying too hard. 

Sylvie didn’t bother with either of those, simply walking within the caregiver’s line of sight to prove how much of a big girl she was.

The lunch room was behind a regular door that looked like it should have been labeled “Employees only”. It was small, too. Mostly used for birthday parties and the like. 

Mobius wasn’t there though, something Loki immediately noticed as he broke away from Sylvie, Sam, and the lunch line. 

The door to the yard was propped open, opening into a tall and thick garden of flowers and edible plants, filled with bees and butterflies. 

And, as Loki got closer, on the stoop, he saw who else, but his daddy, looking much more distraught than normal. 

Loki sat down next to him, blocking the doorway. 

Mobius wiped a wet eye with his sleeve. “Hey, there you are! You had me scared for a minute there,” he laughed. 

Loki wasn’t used to seeing him cry. He almost put his guards up, but instead decided to let his shoulders droop and share in a little momentary misery as his daddy wrapped an arm around him. 

“I didn’t realize how stressful it was looking after so many kids,” Mobius smiled. “I thought with two Lokis I’d be able to handle anything.” 

Loki nodded to show he was listening. 

“But jeez… ten littles! Handling ten littles alone, and the only ones I couldn’t keep track of were my own. You two made me feel like a pretty crappy caregiver.” 

Loki frowned a little more. 

“Well… You did! It’s not the same when you sneak off at the grocery store. This is different, bud. I’ve got a lot more things at stake here!”

Loki tried not to take it too personally, patting Mobius’ arm. If they hadn’t been at a children’s museum, the poor man probably would’ve been having a smoke. He wasn’t even much of a smoker but when he got stressed the rules tended to bend. 

“Where’d you even sneak off to, anyway?” 

Now it was Loki’s turn to stop comforting and start letting his emotions loose. “Story Cottage…” he answered lamely. 

“Not so fun?” 

The little shook his head and shuttered as he tried not to cry, trying to harness his big kid voice. “I-- I wasted all of it!” he spilled. “The whole day!” 

Mobius pulled him into his lap. “You know what I think we both need, little drama queen?”

“You too!” Loki interjected. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m a drama queen, too… but I think we could both get something to eat.” He picked Loki up and brought him over to wash his hands and grabbed him the lunches they had packed that morning. 

There were still many things left to play with and explore after lunch as Loki stayed tethered to his daddy, probably more than he really should have, insisting on being held after a filling, and quite frankly, tiring lunch. A task that really wasn’t so bad until Mobius realized he was about to try to climb two flights of stairs and was still supervising a good number of littles. At least Sam was there to ease some of the tension off, now. 

“Woah…” Thor said. 

“Oh,” Sylvie agreed. 

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, and turned around in his daddy’s arms. What was so great that they-- 

This wasn’t a room. It was a hall of rooms, probably a dozen. It was a little city, kitted with everything littles could ever want. Tricycles and riding toys were available on the “streets”, and in each of the buildings was a usable pretend play area pertaining to a profession. 

Sylvie however, was more drawn to an artificial treehouse on the far side. A massive climbable playground for the big kids that appeared to come out of the wall, with a tinier, baby area underneath it for aspiring climbers. 

“Why don’t we do that for you?” Mobius suggested trying to lead Loki over to the toddler area. 

But Loki was pulled in a different direction. “Loki! Come look at this!” Thor yelled excitedly. 

Mobius closed his mouth tightly, and looked up at the large climbing tree, unsure if he should leave Sylvie and a couple other littles there without a supervisor as Loki pulled him away. 

“Daddy! C’mon!” Loki shouted excitedly. 

“You go ahead… I think I need to stay here.”

Sylvie threw a foam apple at Mobius’ head. “Go! I’m a big girl! I’m safe!” She shooed him. 

Mobius rubbed his head as if that had hurt before giving her an “I’m watching you” gesture and backing away. 

Loki stepped behind the counter at a “pizza restaurant” with Thor. 

It was probably the busiest room in the whole little town, but with so many rooms to choose from, that still only meant it maybe had three or four other littles. 

Mobius tried to follow them into the kitchen, but Thor put his hand up. 

Loki understood what this meant. “Daddy,” he began as politely as he could manage, “you’re not allowed over here… We’re the chefs. You’re the customer.” 

Mobius got up on a stool at the front counter as he watched Thor try to give Loki a child-sized apron and Loki attempt to put it on, just to find it couldn’t tie in back and only covered his chest. 

Then, it seemed they went over the directions carefully together, with Thor reading the instructions slowly and out loud, as if he were just learning to read for the first time. He was always a slow reader, and Loki wasn’t going to wait around. Instead, he began rolling out the pizza dough with a roller as he carefully looked at the pictures. The dough itself was felt, or some sort of beige fabric like it.

When Thor finished reading, he didn’t immediately begin following the instructions, instead opening up the fake refrigerator and pantries to inspect what materials were at their disposal first. 

Mobius fake coughed, just to see if he could break either of them from what they were doing. 

Loki ran up first. He looked slightly annoyed to be distracted from his busy, busy task. 

“Aren’t you gonna take my order?” Mobius asked. 

Loki crossed his arms. “Okay… what do you want?” he asked. 

“I just can’t get any good customer service in a place like this, can I?” he sarcastically asked. “Hawaiian sounds good. Think you can make me a large Hawaiian pizza?” 

Loki nodded slowly, the gears turning in his head just a little harder to remember what that meant. It was unfortunate that the instructions didn’t include a recipe book. 

Mobius watched patiently as Loki put seemingly random velcro toppings from a myriad of labeled pots onto the pizza before putting it in the “oven” to bake. 

The “food” was taking ages, especially as the brothers got caught up “cutting” wooden fruit and giggling at the floppy, uncanny, rubber meats in the fridge. 

“Ding!” Loki suddenly said out loud. He ran over to grab his oven mitts and take out the pizza from the oven instead. 

Then, after “cutting” it, he brought the tray with the pizza to Mobius.

It was Thor’s turn to take over and explain. Loki had gone up and tugged on his sleeve. 

“We wanted to make you feel less stressed out!” Thor tried. “So we wanted to make you a pizza!”  

Mobius grinned and took an imaginary slice of pizza, “Send my compliments to the chef.” 

Loki nearly cried, whining and whimpering when the timer rang, and begging to stay. There was still so much to explore! Even with double the time of a normal exhibit, he still hadn’t played much with the train station or the post office. 

Mobius kept him in a cozy hug of a carry, while Thor lifted a giggling, screaming Sylvie over his shoulder and teased her about using her inside voice. 

She was crying with laughter and nearly couldn’t breathe through it. Whatever joke had been told might have been the funniest thing she had ever heard, and Thor’s rough, awkward way of carrying her had only exacerbated the condition. 

The last event of the day seemed to be more like a checklist item than a real activity. Next to the story cottage that Loki finally got the opportunity to show his daddy, was a puppet show theater. 

One of the museum’s employees was put behind the curtain as the littles were corralled and instructed to sit down to watch a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. 

Loki positioned himself in Mobius’ lap, holding his daddy’s hands in place around his chest and playing with his arms. 

He felt Mobius come up to rest his chin on his shoulder, but it was hardly registered as anything more than a familiar reminder of his presence and a little bit of extra warmth around him. That was, until Mobius made a little grunt, which turned to a slightly louder, longer one. 

Sylvie looked over at them.

Loki stared at her back without any explanation. 

“He’s… asleep!” she whisper-giggled. 

“Shh… let him. He’s worked hard,” Sam told them.

Loki held his daddy’s hand a little tighter. 

[anaalnathrakhs]

it's rlly fun how my parents just straight up. do not care. about the disordered eating. we had all this talk back when i went through a big suicidal crisis a couple months ago, i explained what was really difficult for me, eating socially, restaurants, not choosing my food, etc, and now it's like. okay it didn't exist actually.

mother i am not going to order you around, either you accept that i'm gonna have difficulty dealing with "normal people behavior" or whatnot and you stop looking at me like :/ anytime i am anything but ecstatic at the idea of eating anything anytime anyhow, or you adapt your behavior to avoid the results you don't like to see. i'm only doing my best to handle things from my side, and i am certainly not going to try measuring for you how important family social eating occurences are to you.

[unpretty]

a fact about me is that i was an early bloomer who hit puberty in elementary school and was immediately, obnoxiously horny in ways that were uncomfortable for everyone because no one is prepared for an elementary schooler with b cups and a deep fascination with movies where people get tied up. another fact is that because i was considered smart for my age in the ways that mattered, i just accepted all this as a single package, the many ways that i was not really a child the way other children were children but was instead a miniature adult. i was technically a child, but not really, as far as i was concerned. it also did not occur to me until around high school that i was fat, because i instead considered myself to be sturdy, to be buff, to be built like a tank.

so somewhere around middle school i am noticing the ways in which i am Not Like Other Girls, the ways in which i am not what society says a girl is and the ways that things marketed to girls do not appeal to me. i don't know how other girls dealt with this, but i very rationally decided that i was only technically a girl, in the way that i was only technically a child. so i looked at the things that did appeal to me, and that i did enjoy, and reverse engineered my demographic to decide that on a practical and functional level i was a middle-aged man. i had also gotten really hornily into wolverine because of the first x-men movie, and ended up reading a lot of comics, so as you can imagine the comic book version of wolverine who is short and built like a tank and older than he looks despite being for all intents and purposes a middle aged man really had some appeal to me.

there are idiots who say shit about how tomboys would be considered trans these days or whatever, but i can assure you that was not what was happening here. by middle school i already had to special order bras and i was fine with that because of the many weird fetishes i was developing, none of which can be blamed on the internet because i hadn't found that shit yet and also to this day you would have a hard time finding anything similar to the things i wrote in my secret notebook and immediately destroyed. the fact that i was technically a girl was vital to all this. media where there was a big reveal that some cool dude had been a hot chick the whole time was my shit. weird feral beast people who turned out to be hot women once they took a bath? fuck yes. i would never have cut my hair because that would have ruined my chances to take off a helmet and reveal that i had girl hair. at no point did i think i was anything but a girl, it was just that i was functionally a middle-aged man, who was a girl.

what this means is that i still liked all the things i already liked, such as leather jackets and comic books and anime and old stand-up comedy, but i also did extensive research on the other things i felt i should like according to the demographic i had assigned myself. i watched vh1's 'i love the 70s' with the air of someone trying to hide their amnesia, even though my parents were children in the 70s. i got into the beatles. i tried to get into cars for a while before accepting that i only liked the vintage car aesthetic and couldn't be fucked to know actual car facts. i wore nothing but cargo shorts and aloha shirts for a while, which didn't really stand out that much because it was middle school. i bought a fedora and became a libertarian atheist. i made plans to buy a motorcycle (i could not ride a bike).

i gave up on it after a while because quite frankly my titty situation meant there was never really going to be a big reveal that i'd been a girl the whole time. it was pretty obvious even with the cargo shorts. also the older of a teen i was, the more likely it felt that i could maybe get laid, except i could tell that was never going to happen as long as i kept wearing cargo shorts. it took longer to give up the fedora because it was leather and i wore it with my leather jacket and fingerless gloves, which i convinced myself worked a lot better after i'd gone full high school goth. i lived in the desert so you can imagine how well that worked out for me, smell-wise.

anyway that's how my female socialization went, i don't think it was particularly successful tbqh

[satoruhour]

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove. 

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?” 

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all  . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist. 

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance. 

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.” 

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane. 

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

[fuxuannie]

↳ pairing : (seperate) miles morales & pavitr prabhakar x g-neutral reader

↳ synopsis : "i think i'm inlove.." "congrats, you're the last person to know."

↳ authors note : requests by @junipershrubs & @magicdefendorwolf !! i hope you both enjoy !! sort of crack & fluff ??? this isnt super srs just some cute shenanigans :)

Way before Miles became Spiderman, you and him were a pair that couldn't be seperated. Your parents were very close with Miles' parents, leading to various different playdates and meetings with your newfound friend at the time.

Even as kids, Mr and Mrs Morales plus your parents knew something was going to happen between you two when you'd get older. Whether good or bad, it was the way little Miles looked at you and continues to look at you with was something else. That little smile of absolute adoration when he sees you shine was never seen when it came to anyone else, just you, always you.

So he's confused when his parents exchange knowing glances, a smile on his mothers face and a proud one on his fathers. "So.. you're okay that I'm inlove with (name)...?"

"Miles, we knew long before you did."

"What."

He blinks a few times in disbelief, looking at Jeff who nods in confirmation. "Like.. since diapers. It was very very obvious." Miles watches as he walks over to a baby album, one that he hadn't recognized. It wasn't as big as the other ones he had seen before, but it definitely had a lot of pictures. "We were preparing for this moment."

You can imagine his confusion when the first page reads; "How Miles looks at them."

You can also imagine how embarassed he gets when he realizes its a compilation of photos of him looking at you with that love-struck expression he's always had.

"THAT'S HOW I LOOK AT (name)?!" Miles squeaks, in utter disbelief as his father chuckles at his expression. "For years, that's how you've looked at them. Have you seriously not noticed??" Jeff says curiously, raising a brow as he closed the book.

"..N-no? I guess.. I guess I really have been inlove with them all this time."

Rio softly ruffles his hair, still smiling all the while. "Congratulations! You're the last person to know, mi hijo."

PAVITR always thought his affection for you was simply platonic but was completely clueless to his romantic feelings since he thought of you as 'an amazing friend that I'd love to spend my whole life with'

At some point, during a conversation with Hobie and Gwen, the topic shifts to the relationship of him and you.. mostly on how you're doing.

"Oh! Me and (name) are doing great! Actually, their beauty continues to blossom more and more everyday! Their laugh is still as sweet as a song, and their smile?? It's like they get prettier every time I see them!"

Hobie blinks in disbelief, the biscuit in Gwens mouth fell out because of how her jaw that could've probably fall to the floor if it was possible.

"...You guys are just friends, right?"

"Do we seem like something else?"

Pavitr seems just as stunned as the two of them, and Hobie chuckles and puts his hand on his best friends shoulders.

"A'right, Pav. You're really feelin' nothin' a little.. special for this lil friend of yours?" He raises a brow, watching the indian Spiderman nod his head.

"Nooothin'?"

"Nothing! Nothing super strange anyway."

"So if they were to ask you to date 'em right now, would you decline?"

"No! I like them quite a lot so I'd say that-"

Hobie looks him dead in the eye, squeezing his shoulder to cut him off and a dead serious look as he wants Pavitr to reflect on his answer.

"You...?"

"Like them!"

...

"...Ohhhhh."

"This madlad..."

[aestheticpluto]

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒? ❝Yandere Harry Potter❞

T.W :- None [I guess] Summery :- He is such an idiot...an idiot that is now obsessed with you [Forgive me for any mistakes]

''Oh look what do we have here?'' you said entering the potion class which was almost empty expect the golden trio who were studying ''Go away L/n'' Ron hissed while Hermione glared at you ''Don't you have anything better to do?'' Hermione said with a cold look ''Not better than this'' you replied sitting near their desk but not too close ''I like seeing this dirtbag struggle'' you mocked with a artificial smile ''Language'' Hermione hissed ''Let it be'' Harry sighed glancing up from his book ''They won't give up'' His eyes met with yours but you fail to notice light pink blush on Harry's face ''Tch'' you rolled your eyes and walked out of the classroom ''What's wrong with him'' you mumble to yourself slowly noticing his lack of response.

you've always been envious of favoritism towards harry and since your parents were also Gryffindors so you being Slytherin didn't sit right with them, they always compare you to THE Harry Potter which you despise from the bottom of your heart.

''L/n'' A familiar voice echoed in the empty Slytherin common room ''Hmm?'' you looked up and saw Harry ''What Dirtbag?'' you asked with a mocking smile ''What did I ever do to you?'' his question made you paused a bit ''Nothing.'' you replied with a grin and went back to your work ''No, You're lying'' you sighed thinking why is he acting like this ''Do you hate me?'' he added with his hand reached for yours and snatching the quill from your hand ''Potter!?'' you glanced at him and saw him with a serious expression, standing up from the sit you glared at him and decided to say whatever you've been keeping inside you ''Yes I do hate you and that hate is more than you could ever imagine'' you took a deep breathe ''Why?'' He moved closer ''Your- Your'' you shuttered trying find the right words ''You're literally everyone's favorite you'll never know the feeling of being someone's shadow and it's all because of your stupid scar, do you even know how is it feel to be always left out?'' you blurted out without thinking much ''So it's because of lack of love?'' he asked his hand rested on your shoulder ''What?'' you asked looking at him with a puzzle look ''Love?'' you added ''Oh I'm so sorry'' he pulled you in hug, you struggled and try to get away but that didn't work in fact it only made his grip stronger ''Potter-'' ''Harry. you can call me harry'' he corrected ''No it's not that-'' you tried to explain ''Shh everything will be okay and from now I'll give you all the love and attention you need'' he caressed your hair

''Harry-?'' Hermione entered the room and was more than shook ''Bloody Hell'' Ron followed mumbling ''Mate?'' Ron asked seeing his Best-friend and His enemy Hugging? ''Oh uh-'' you finally pushed Harry aside and cleared your throat ''Don't think anything gross Weasley'' you said fixing your uniform ''Care to explain'' Hermione  asked walking up to you and Harry ''Go back to your dorms'' you instructed ''Besides you shouldn't stay in Slytherin's common room for too long'' you added picking up your stuff and preparing to leave ''See you at breakfast tomorrow dearest'' Harry chirped ''Tch. This guy is really out of his mind'' you whispered to yourself and went towards your dorm.

''Bloody Hell'' Ron and Hermione glanced at each other then looked at Harry ''What? I'm trying to help.'' Harry replied with a small smile- gosh he is such an idiot...an idiot that is now obsessed with you

[littlelionwriting]

Male Companions and Parenting

Here is some headcanons for the male companions (and Zevlor) for Baldur's Gate 3. This is a continuation of the Pregnancy headcanons I wrote previously. If you want to request anything just send me a DM!

Zevlor

His son is a spitting image of him except for his eyes, his eyes are your eyes.

When he holds him for the first time his son's tail wraps around Zevlor's wrist and he feels like his heart will burst.

He's a strict parent but he makes sure that his child knows that they are loved.

He wants to be there for everything, every step, and every word. He wants to be involved.

If his son starts to become interested in weapons or fighting it gives Zevlor a heart attack. He doesn't want that life for his son.

But seeing how important it is to him, seeing how his eyes light up when he is fighting, Zevlor makes sure he is properly trained. Nothing but the best.

He will constantly tell his son how proud he is of him.

"You should have seen him today, Sweetling. He was great. He will be amazing." Zevlor sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a grin on his face. "Our family is amazing."

Wyll

When he holds his daughter for the first time, he feels like laughing. His wonderful, beautiful daughter who looks like the perfect mix of the two of you.

He is the dad who has tea parties and helps paint her nails.

Wyll would gladly take her with him when he goes to train, showing her how to properly hold a (dull) blade the moment she is big enough.

He cannot tell her no; she doesn't even bother to ask you for something when she can go to Wyll instead and get what she wants.

The first time he sees his teenage daughter in a proper evening gown for a ball his heart drops cause he knows she isn't his little girl anymore.

He's not the best dancer but he does his best to teach her how to show up everyone on the dance floor.

"Darling, do you see her? Doesn't she look marvelous?" Wyll's eyes go from the dancing figure of your daughter with some noble's son to you as he takes his hand in yours. "Maybe we should take the hint and dance ourselves."

Astarion

His handsome son with his silver hair and red eyes but your skin color.

He is the only one who can get your son to stop crying as a baby. Not even being held by you can quiet the wailing child.

His son may be a troublemaker from the moment he could walk but Astarion would only encourage it. Very much an 'As long as you don't get caught' way of parenting.

Would have no qualms about teaching him how to pick locks or how to use a dagger. One must always be prepared according to Astarion.

He does not like his child being out at night without one of you, even as he gets into his teenage years. If he isn't home by sundown Astarion is ready to go out searching for him.

Astarion makes sure to encourage his son in anything and everything he wants to do. He would gladly buy the world if that is what was asked of him.

"He did well today, Lover. You would have been proud of him." You hummed softly in acknowledgement, not looking up from your book as Astarion walks over to where you sit in front of the first. He smiles before bending over and laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Of course, he's your son."

Halsin

When your twins are born Halsin swore they would ask for naught. Holding them both in his large arms to his chest as they slept.

Your son looked like you but had Halsin's hair and eyes while your daughter looked like a clone of Halsin just with your eyes.

Halsin learned early on to keep an eye on them, from the moment they could walk they were running off into the forest. They would often come home covered head to toe in mud.

He makes sure to teach them to respect all creatures, even the gross and icky ones.

It is not uncommon to find one of them on his shoulders. In fact, they often would fight over who got to ride on his shoulders so he had to make them take turns.

His son takes after his father, bringing home random critters much to his father's amusement.

His daughter is on the quiet side, liking to stay by his side and enjoy nature more than the company of people.

Would be over the moon when his daughter felt the call to being a Druid and his son a Ranger.

"You are so proud, Halsin." You walked to his side, taking his large hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

"More than you could ever know, my Heart."

Gale

Gale loves his daughter from the moment she is born but he is not a baby or toddler guy.

When he is left alone with her for the first time as a baby you come home to both of them crying.

He does his best which includes taking said daughter with him to any lectures he gives and when she babbles, he acts as if she is answering or giving input.

"Excellent point, Darling! Now, to continue..."

He makes sure she is dressed properly for whatever the weather and makes sure she is always in style.

Tara is her favorite babysitter hands down and Tara is more than happy to follow the young Miss around.

The first time she tells you and Gale she has a crush on someone you have to hold Gale back from threatening the poor soul with a fireball.

Gale makes sure to teach your daughter how to be proper and that includes how to rip someone to shreds with their words.

Gale puts a huge emphasis on education, he will make sure that she has the best tutors and will even tutor her himself if she asked.

"She is doing simply amazing, Dearest. You would never guess she has only been studying for a few years. I say she will soon surpass all the others in her class!" You gave your husband a soft smile as he continued to sing your daughter's praises, happy as can be.

Want to buy me a coffee or commission a short story? Find me here: https://ko-fi.com/littleleonlion

[goldsainz]

❝ UNFORGETTABLE GIFT ❞

SERIES MASTERLIST!

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . lewis hamilton x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you’ve spent various valentine’s together, but nothing will ever top this one.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i can’t believe i’m actually going through with this series😭 I CANNOT BELIEVE LEWIS IS GOING YO FERRARI??? THIS FEELS LIKE A FEVER DREAM WTF (i also had made carlos comment “best news of the year” but it didn’t feel… appropriate… even if this is a bit like an au)

liked by sarasampaio, jensonbutton and 2,067,315 others

yourusername 6th valentine’s day together 🤍

view all 31,098 comments

lewishamilton I’m the luckiest man alive

⤷ yourusername and i’m the luckiest woman

ynfan1 LEWIS PROPOSE ALREADY GODDAMMIT!!!!!!

ynfan2 you guys don’t understand these are my parents fr

lewisfan1 the matching bucket hats are everything

roscoelovescoco I love’s you mum’s and’s dad’s

liked by yourusername and 93,762 others

ynfan3 my favourite couple on the grid

ynfan4 👏PARENTS👏

lewisfan2 they’re so iconic omg

ynfan5 this makes me want to be in a relationship

⤷ lewisfan3 they make me believe in love

lewisfan4 the things i’d do to be loved by lewis😩

yourusername updated their instagram story!

liked by landonorris, mickschumacher and 2,860,539 others

lewishamilton Valentine’s Day with the best Valentine.

view all 57,903 comments

yourusername i love you so much 🤍

⤷ lewishamilton i love you too ❤️

lewisfan21 nobody is giving parents quite like they are

lewisfan22 oh to be y/n

ynfan21 bye i’m in love with them

lewisfan23 lewis, my man, propose to her. PLEASE.

⤷ ynfan22 we’re all waiting😩

lewisfan24 AHH I LOVE THEM

lewisfan25 they are literally everything to me

lewisfan26 they’ll write books about their love story

ynfan23 lewisy/n is the best couple on the grid

yourusername updated their instagram stories!

liked by nicki.nicole, oscarpiastri and 6,271,984 others

lewishamilton and yourusername 14.02.24

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roscoelovescoco I’m so happy’s right’s now’s

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[vex91]

Yu Jimin - Forced marriage

Pairing: Yu Jimin x Female Reader (CEO AU)

Fandom: Aespa

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: yn's father is in a debt so he gave his daughter to his boss's daughter for money like for marriage bc he is filthy rich so she hates her father. jimin and yn don't want each other, later jimin learns about this, she didn't know that her father did this and start to be kind to her. you can make yn play hard to get or not, whatever you want.

Summary: To pay off his debts, your father decides to make you marry one of the richest CEO's daughter and the fact that none of you wanted that marriage made you both hate each other.

A/N: KARINAAAAAAAA @1luvkarina something's for you😂 Thanks for requesting anon❤

3rd's POV

You hated Yu Jimin.

It wasn't anything personal with the woman, you hated her because of yours and hers parents who decided to control your life without any care about your own feelings.

You always loved your father, he never failed to make you feel loved and he supported you through everything you went through as a teenager but that was until you were 16. Your father borrowed some money from shady people and soon after he borrowed even more not realizing how badly it will end for him. The debt quickly became much too big for your family to pay off. Your parents were devastated, they tried to not talk about anything debt related around you and you thought it was because they didn't wanted to worry you but on your 18th birthday you found out the truth about why they whispered around the house whenever they talked about their debt.

The truth was your father found a solution to their problems. He contacted a very well-known CEO of a famous company in Seoul, Mr. Yu who was also your father's boss and after talking about different options they agreed on having you marry his daughter Jimin who was soon to inherit the company. When your father told you about it you were furious, you couldn't believe your own father could just sell you like this just to solve his own problems and your mother agreeing to that made you even more devastated. Their assurances of their love for you didn't do much for you, you could see that you didn't mean much to them since they were willing to just force you into something like that without any problems.

Your wedding was your nightmare. Jimin was nice and all but ever since you officially met you could feel how much she also hated the fact she had to marry someone she didn't wanted to marry. You both pretended to be happy and in love during your wedding but the moment you guys entered your shared house, you both completely ignored each other. There was no reason for you to argue when you could just pretend that nothing happened and live not getting into each other ways. That's how you spend the next few months as a married couple, you ignored each other most of the time and going on dates with other people, only acting as a couple in front of her parents whenever they visited.

One night Jimin came back from a tiring day at work to see you at your usual spot on the window. You made yourself a very comfortable space there with pillows and blankets so you often used it to rest or sleep if you didn't wanted to sleep with Jimin. Your wife observed you for a while as you read your book before moving to the kitchen to make herself something to eat "I made you dinner. It's in the fridge" Your voice cut through the silence but not for long as silence soon took over again. Jimin silently opened the fridge to see her favorite food prepared. As she warmed it up she continued staring at you "Do you need anything?" You asked looking at her having enough of her stares. Jimin hesitated, thinking if she should touch on the subject.

"Why did you marry me?" You looked up at her confused. You wondered what made her ask that since she never cared about it until now. You were silent trying to think of what to say until Jimin said something that made you furious "Did you pay my father to marry me? That's why he was so adamant in making me marry you?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was she really accusing you of paying her father so you could marry her?

"Excuse me?" You stood up and went over to her "You heard me" You were shocked and angry, you hated how this whole situation made you feel so many things at once, especially the pain you felt when on your 18th birthday "You think I wanted that? Marrying you was the last thing I wanted actually but well I didn't had a choice since my father clearly already signed the agreement with your father before even telling me. Just for your knowledge not everybody is obsessed with you" Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down, Jimin on the other hand was stunned. She wasn't sure what to say, guilt eat her up as she realized that you just like her were basically sold by your father.

She tried to reach for you but you quickly stormed off to your bedroom leaving Jimin standing alone in the kitchen with all her swirling thoughts.

2 hours passed since then and you were still laying in bed looking at the ceiling. Jimin's words hurt, they reminded you of how betrayed you felt and how much you hated your current life. Jimin still didn't came back to the bedroom and at some point you thought that she decided to sleep on the couch but that thought soon left your mind as you heard the door opening. You turned around to face somewhere else and listened to her quiet footsteps getting closer and soon a hand shook your arm. You stayed still not wanting to even look at her at that moment.

Jimin sighed before talking "Y/N... I know you don't want to talk and I understand that. Just know that I really regret saying everything I said back there, I didn't know about your father. I'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight" She finished and you heard her leaving some bags next to the bed and leaving. You moved around and took the bags to see what was inside and the sight shocked you. It was your favorite meal you ordered a lot during evenings. The fact that Jimin payed attention to that was completely surprising to you but the fact that she went and bought some for you despite the late hour was even more shocking.

Inside was a note.

I wasn't sure which sauce you preferred so I bought every kind they had. I hope you enjoy the food and maybe we can talk tomorrow?

From Jimin <3

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

[fadingdaggerr]

hey! I just wanted to see if I could request a Melissa x Reader fic where basically r is a teacher at the school and her best friend is ava, and r has the fattest crush on melissa ever but the only ones who know are ava, barbra, and mr johnson (bc dude knows everything)

and ava and barbra are trying to be wingman because melissa likes r. so just a bunch of mutual pining and fluff. and when they confess it’s snowing.

if you can’t do that that’s totally fine! but if you do thanks in advance and take your time

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

includes: mutual pining, ava and barb meddling, kinda dialogue heavy oops, these bitches Oblivious, author is a classics nerd

warnings: (minimal) they/them pronoun use for R, sexual innuendos, (brief) alcohol consumption, kissing/light making out

note: sorry i took so long getting to this req. school started up and work is genuinely insane. plus i got a little too into writing this so editing too a little while. i actually really like how this turned out :)

Unforecasted frozen rain forced recess to be inside, everyone was to just stick to their classroom since there was no time to prepare the gymnasium for indoor recess on such short notice. The kids spent the first five minutes of recess begging you to go outside, to which you open the window, to which Sean says oh, hell no, resulting in a scolding from you.

Within five more minutes, your teacher-senses begin to tingle. Something is wrong. Looking up from your record book, you glance around the classroom until your eyes land on Karam. The seven year old had just moved to Philly with his parents a few weeks ago, and with this being his first week at a new school, he has been understandably frazzled. The boy is facing towards your desk, away from his classmates, sitting on a beanbag chair and crying to himself.

Immediately, you rise out of your chair and approach him gently, lowering yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him. “Hey, Karam. What’s going on?” you ask calmly, not trying to draw attention to his state nor baby him. The only response you get is a shake of the head, so you ask, “would you like some alone time right here?” Another shake of the head, another question, “do you want to talk alone, just you and me? You can bring Pickle.”

This offer seems to appease him, he instantly stands and goes to his backpack to grab his beloved stuffed sea lion. You get to the doorway and keep your hand on his shoulder where he stands just out of sight of the other kids, hoping no one will see him and decide to get nosy.

“Okay, chickens. I’m going to run across the hall very quickly, keep doing what you’re doing. Ashante, honey, you’re in charge,” you say with a little grin, it becomes a full smile when the girl salutes you.

Once you’re in the hall, Karam grabs your hand tightly with big tears ready to fall, and stays close as you cross diagonally to some of your students' previous second grade classroom. You lean into the doorway, still keeping Karam out of sight of others, and knock to gain a certain redhead’s attention. She’s quick to get to you, seeing a sort of urgency on your face.

“What’s up?”

“Can you watch my class, please? I’ve got a situation here,” you tip your head to the side to gesture to Karam, still gripping your hand and sniffling. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, lunch, lunch duty, recess duty, whatever. Just, please?”

Melissa takes one look at you pleading eyes and knows she can’t say no to you, especially not with a sad little friend by your side. “You owe me nothing. I’ll bring the kids to my room and you can come get ‘em after,” she says with a tone she hopes shows she’s being genuine.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you rush out, immediately your attention falling back to the tears rolling down Karam’s cheeks. Melissa scoots over to your room, corralling the kids across the hall with an excited tone to keep their eyes on her and not you and their classmate.

With the extra bodies in the room, Melissa finds that the doorway was a good place to observe all the kids in her room. Though she tries to keep her eagle eyes on the students, they slowly slide to your form in the hall, crouched down below the boy’s eye level with his hand in yours. Her ears feel like a radio, tuning into the hushed volume you keep.

“It’s okay to be sad, buddy. Everything and everyone is so new, you’re allowed to be scared,” you say as you wipe his cheeks with a tissue, “and you and I both know that baba and daddy would never bring you somewhere that wasn’t safe. And Pickle, he’s here for you, and so am I.”

The boy leans into you for a hug, and your arms wrap tightly around him. Melissa tries not to stare, but she’s unable to take her eyes off the interaction. The way you rock him gently side to side, it was clear you weren’t letting go until he did. She vaguely remembers you mentioning that being a rule of yours when you first started at Abbott, when you took over her third grade class and her entire field of vision. 

Melissa averts her eyes back to the kids as the hug ends, but she still listens discreetly. You wipe Karam’s face as you speak, “let’s go get you some water, okay? And maybe, if you use those puppy eyes, nurse Makiah will let you pick out a lollipop. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Do we have to come back to recess?” The shyness in his voice makes you pout.

“Yes, because Miss Schemmenti was super nice to watch all our friends for me while we’re talking, and I’m sure she’d like her room back,” you peek up to Melissa quickly, “and when we get back, we’re gonna say a big ‘thank you,’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Karam answers quietly, but his next words are so quiet you barely hear them, “thank you.”

“Of course, chicken. Let’s go.” Melissa pretends she’s not watching you walk down the hall with a hand still in Karam’s, her eyes switch back to her class when you disappear around the corner.

When you return to get the kids from Melissa, she instead insists that you just sit out the rest of recess in her room since the students were already playing together. That’s the only reason, nothing else. You keep a cautious eye on Karam as he sits down to draw with one of Melissa’s students, and once you see him start to arrange his colors, you drift your attention to the woman next to you.

“Thank you, seriously. And I will be paying you back for this,” you say, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

You cut her off, “I said. I’m. Paying. You. Back. Just accept it, I’m not budging.”

All she gives as an answer is a huff through her nose, but the smile that stretches her lips makes you feel fluttery. Her smile is not a rare sight, but it’s rare that you get to see it this close. When she faces away for only a couple seconds, you take the time to just take her in. Beautiful.

In the hall, a conversation between Barbara and Ava about clearing an extra bulletin board for the kindergarteners art projects was halted when they caught Melissa watching you with Karam. Both women looked at her, unseen even by Melissa’s typically sensitive attention, and all they saw was a soft putty of a woman. When you returned to the classroom, they slowly got closer to see what was going on, curiosity drawing them in.

All they could see were gentle, shy smiles and hidden glances of adoration for each other. It clicked in their minds at the same moment. Their best friends had it bad for each other.

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

“So… What are you gonna do about Red?” Ava asks as she reaches the midpoint of her braid.

You’re sitting behind her on a cushion, parting a section in the back of her head to start on a braid yourself. Your focus makes your response time slower and quieter than usual, “what d’ya mean?”

Ava’s chuckles, “how you’ve got the hots for Schemmenti.”

Her obvious tone makes you stall, too long, but you try to deflect anyway, “I’ve got no clue what you mean.”

She laughs. Ava laughs and it would be in your face if she weren’t so busy with her hair. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’ve got that shocked expression on your face, the one where your eyes are wide and blank, face otherwise neutral, but she knows the expression well. The first time she’d seen it was the day she met you in seventh grade, and she proclaimed you her best friend to everyone in the cafeteria, just a mere three hours after meeting each other.

“Don’t lie to me, Gremlin,” she jokes, using her nickname for you she adopted from your favorite movie as a kid, “I know when you like someone, and you want that Italian sub to Italian dom you.”

“I hate you,” you groan, “if you mention even a single thing to her Ava, I will buy out all the caramel hair from the beauty supply and you’ll never see it again.” She gasps, as if it were a real threat you could carry out on your budget, but she knows how serious you are. With a roll of her eyes, Ava decides to hold off until you’re not braiding her hair to annoy you more.

Much later into the night and all there is really left to do is trim, seal, and add products to her roots, Ava knows she can’t let the topic of the previous conversation go. She decides to speak up while she trims the last few front pieces and you pick up the hair packaging and combs from around the room.

“Just saying though, if you stopped making ‘I wanna have your babies’ eyes, you could ask her out,” Ava tries to explain. She almost adds a what’s the worst that could happen? but she knows exactly where your mind will go.

“I don’t wanna ‘have her babies,’ you freak,” you sigh as you get some hot water, “I just… I dunno. I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with her when she inevitably rejects me.”

She’s obsessed with you, she won’t reject you, Ava wants to say. Even if others, and even herself, would label her selfish, the one thing she doesn’t ever let slide is you letting your insecurity get the best of you. She likes her extra job as your personal hype-woman when you get in your head. Ava weighs her option, “well… you could put out some feelers. Invite her somewhere or, I don’t know, look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“You’re right,” you say with a gruffness that she knows is defeat. If she can just get you and Melissa talking, interacting more, then maybe she and Barb can figure out a way to worm you two together.

“You do like her, don’t you?” She knows the answer, she wants you to say it though.

There’s a deep inhale before you answer, “of course I do. She- she’s so- I do like her, so much. Like, I want to bite a chunk out of the table when she looks at me.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, we don’t know where they’ve been,” Ava says with a touch of disgust, “and she’ll think you’re more of a freak than you already are.” She rightfully earns a smack on the shoulder at that one.

Dipping the ends of her hair into the hot water, you think silently. Ava has a point, if you spent even a tenth of the time you spend thinking about Melissa, when she was right in front of you, talking to her instead, you’d probably not be so nervous at the thought of making eye contact with her. Sometimes it was nice though, just getting to look at her, seeing her easy smile when she speaks to Barbara and the playful glint in her eye when she lovingly picks on Jacob. Whenever her attention falls on you, you shy away. Maybe Ava has a point.

At Barbara and Melissa’s weekly brunch that same Saturday morning, their conversation falls down a similar path.

Ever the professional deterrer, Melissa manages to push the conversation away from the topic of you, trying to keep Barb on Gerald or bible club. Usually her friend catches the hint to stay away from the topic, but there’s no way she was getting out of this one.

“So… are we gonna keep beating around the bush or are we going to talk about it?”

Melissa just sips her mimosa, suddenly interested in the painting across the room.

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

“Don’t ‘yes, Barb’ me. Spill,” there is no room for argument.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barb,” Melissa says, and she means it. It’s clear Barbara had picked up on her feelings for you, but nothing had been done to go past acknowledging she cared for you.

Barb tilts her head to the side, “oh, really? So, we’re just going to pretend that you’re not utterly infatuated with everyone’s new favorite third grade teacher?” Melissa stares at Barbara with wide eyes, thrown off by the blunt nature of her inquiry. Her friend only shakes her head, “for the good Lord’s sake, Melissa. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got feelings for them, and I know you know that too.”

Green eyes shift away from brown, and they instead stare at the drink in front of her, nervous hands coming up to play with the umbrella to keep them busy instead of shaking in her lap. What Barb said wasn’t untrue, she knows it. Barbara Howard is always right in the end. But that isn’t where the apprehension in her gut stems from.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa mumbles, insecurity from her mind reaching her throat.

Barbara can sense it and tries a softer approach, “I think I can say on good authority that the feelings are probably mutual. You could give it a shot, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“And what’s that good authority?”

“My eyes,” Barbara deadpans, her face reading are you serious?

The conversation stops there, more of a self preservation move for the kindergarten teacher. Underneath the silence from Melissa, it’s obvious her mind is going in circles trying to weigh her options. Did she have feelings for you? Yes. But would she do anything if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d return her feelings? No. She was almost certain you didn’t, you rarely ever looked her in the eye and you got all quiet and mumbly when she spoke.

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

When Monday comes back around, you feel like the air in the lounge, or at least around your table, is different. Barbara’s eyes keep shifting between you and Melissa in what she thinks are subtle glances, but the constant eyes on you start making you nervous. Shifting uncomfortably for a moment, you rise from your chair to go to the coffee pot to get away from the prying. While your back is to them, a different form of attention falls on you. Olive eyes scan over you with a soft glint, taking the opportunity to admire you when you’re not looking. Her attention feels different from Barb’s, you can feel it without seeing it. It’s warm, all consuming.

When you turn back around, you can see a section of Melissa’s hair swinging slightly from motion. She was looking at you, and she was hiding it horribly. Instead of mentioning it, you just sit and check your school email. In the weekly scheduling, you see that the recess duty that you typically had with Mrs. Benning from sixth grade, was now with Melissa for the entire week.

Your eyebrows jump slightly at the find, before you have to fight an eye roll at Ava’s obvious meddling. Seeing this, Melissa speaks up, “something interesting?”

“No, no,” you barely get out at a normal cadence, “just switches in the schedule, wasn’t expecting it.”

She nods slowly, “are you… not okay with that?” You try not to pout at the insecurity that bleeds just the smallest amount in her question.

“Of course I’m okay with it, no reason not to be,” you hope your genuineness was showing, “just different is all.” A muted smirk crosses her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee to cover her face, you pretend not to notice the move, as well as the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You turn your attention to your phone in your lap.

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

From AVA ♔ : good thing i wasn’t trying to be

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

You try to not think about the prospect of an extra half hour with Melissa today, and for the rest of the week, but the thought of her crosses your mind and brings a smile to your face. When you are walking your kids back from music, you selfishly take the extra second you’re in the hall to glance towards Melissa’s classroom. Cursive letters on the board in her loopy handwriting being narrated by her expressive face and fast-moving hands. Another grin crosses your lips before you spin on your heel back to your room.

As lunch rolls around, there’s a giddy feeling in your chest that grows with every passing second. Was she even going to talk to you? Maybe not, but time with Melissa is time with Melissa. Just when you’re sliding your gloves on, there’s a tap at your door. Red hair tucked under an Eagles hat and thick black jacket, she’s never been more beautiful.

Winter at Abbott meant beautifully crafted snowmen that had just a touch of dirt on it, but the kids just decided it was freckles. Most of them were working together on their snowmen, while others were trying to see how long they could hang upside down on the monkey bars in their snow clothes. Melissa, after five minutes of churning the idea over in her mind, moves closer to you, the nylon of your jackets making a fssh sound as they brush together gently. The red on her cheeks was likely from the cold, but the darker shade that blossoms at you smiling and turning to her, that’s all you.

The silence between you is easy, for once it doesn’t make Melissa skeptical. It’s comforting, no nervous rambling or awkward attempts to fill the silence, just peaceful silence as your shoulder moves closer to hers.

Tuesday is just the same, with Melissa coming to your classroom to pick you up for recess duty. Wednesday you meet her in your doorway. The peaceful silence is broken when you check your phone to see copious texts in the teacher group chat, most of which are Janine and Jacob and only two are Gregory. All you let out is a little hum.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks from beside you, her eyes staying on Marcus attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

“Groupchat’s going crazy. Janine and Jacob want a ‘teacher’s night out plus Ava,’ and they’re asking if everyone’s good to go next Friday at seven,” your tone suggests a bit of disinterest, but if Melissa goes, you could be easily persuaded.

Her brows scrunch for only a half second before asking, “what bar?”

“The Penman’s Alcove? Guess Jacob suggested it,” you say after scrolling through the nearly forty messages.

“Sounds like Jacob suggested it,” she says with a sputtered laugh. To her delight, you chuckle from beside her, and she brings her full attention to you, “you going?”

You bite your inner lip and flick your eyes to the side, “maybe. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

—☽—

Ava, who always demands you pick her up when you go out, insists on driving to the bar. When she gets to your apartment and does a once over of your jeans and loose-fitting sweater, she gives you a face of disapproval.

“That is not club attire. What ladies are you going to pick up if you’re dressed like a grandma?”

You roll your eyes as you move to let her in, “it’s not a club, it’s a bar. That Jacob picked out. And I’m not trying to ‘pick up’ ladies?”

“Aw, you’re already committed to Schemmenti. Cute,” her laugh at her own comment is cut off by the pillow you whip at her head, another ready if she pipes up again, “no need to get violent, I’ll stop.”

Her only reply is a huff as you grab your boots and shove in your fluffy-socked feet. Ava rises off the couch, leaving the pillow-turned-missile behind. When she’d asked you earlier in the day if ‘your woman’ was coming to the bar, you’d only shrugged, but with a quick text to Barbara, Ava knew the redhead would be there.

Barbara and Ava had made a pact, that despite their differing reasons for not wanting to go, would only attend the outing to insure that you and Melissa would both go as well. It had taken some convincing on Melissa’s end, but the moment her best friend said your name, her tune changed. She agreed to go as long as she drove herself there, so that when she wanted to inevitably leave early, she could.

As Ava pulls into the parking lot of the bar, neither of you hold back the rolling of your eyes. It was very Jacob. You share a look with your best friend, silently asking what did we agree to?

The Penman’s Alcove is tiny, shoved into one of the smallest brick buildings either of you had ever seen. One window was completely blocked off by a decorative book display, the other gave view to the wooden bar top and wooden support beam that was turned into a cylindrical bookcase with lights weaving around it. What is lacking in space, it clearly made up for in atmosphere.

“You both came!” Jacob’s voice echoes from the door to where you and Ava stand as you evaluate the building. You immediately elbow Ava to stop the joke that you could feel on the tip of her tongue. 

“Said I would, didn’t I?” you asked as you got closer, appreciating how Jacob switched his arms from the instinctive hug he wanted to give to giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Well, Janine, Gregory, me, duh, Barbara, and Melissa just got here, so,” his voice becomes a little sheepish, “you’re the last ones here.”

“Fashionably late,” you and Ava say at the same time, though your tone is more flat since you only said it because you knew she would.

Walking into the bar, the small space didn’t feel bigger, just smaller as you realized just how many shelves of countless books there were. The twenty person capacity limit was starting to make sense as you quickly side stepped around other people to keep up with Jacob. Everyone comes into view, but as green eyes meet yours, cameo light surrounds her and she’s all you can see. The stutter in your step is noticed by no one but Ava, who subtly grabs your arm to pull you closer to everyone, closer to Melissa.

Greetings and small talk fill the space, but all of it is background noise. When Janine finally releases you from her energetic retelling of the four hours it’s been since she last saw you, your attention is finally able to rest on the woman who it had been dying to be on. Melissa sees your eyes flick around until they find her, and she curses how her heart flutters at the way you move towards her in an instant.

Leaning your arms on the bartop, you lean over slightly to order a rum and coke before turning entirely towards the redhead. Even though it had been barely four hours since you’d seen her, you felt yourself missing her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh, especially the one she barks out when she can’t control herself and laughs suddenly. Something in the navy shirt she wore instead of her bright greens and pinks told you she wanted to fit into the environment, like she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a… Jacob place. Her attempt to keep attention away, yet for you it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Just like every other time you saw her, your eyes quickly dipped to her neck, a tiny smile passing your lips at her Saint Dominic pendant she had received from her Nana before she’d passed. When you met her eyes, the small smile on your lips grew, and hers did to match.

“Thought you’d never show up,” Melissa says playfully, but with a quiet tone, her words only for you.

“Surprised you even showed,” you mimicked her tone.

Melissa weighs her options before replying, “Barbara told me I should, told me I can count it as my good act of the year.” She relishes in your silent laugh, little puffed breaths leaving you as you turn your face away from her just for a moment to hide. Melissa had realized three days into knowing you that this was her favorite thing, this quiet laugh of yours, she knew that when you turned away, it meant it was genuine.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you say with earnest, “if that's any consolation.”

A smile plays on glossy, pink lips, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Two drinks later, and you found yourself meandering through the shelves of books, naturally being drawn to the fantasy section that was oddly close to the classics you also enjoyed. The small bar had reached capacity only a half hour after you’d arrived, and the bustling conversation was starting to pierce your eardrums. The cushions on the floor had become your new seat, in this almost-quiet corner.

The light vibrations of footsteps approaching brings your mind out of the dragon story you were falling into. Your eyes look up to see red hair contrasting against the shadows from the shelves. Melissa lowers herself carefully onto the cushion beside you, taking utmost care in not getting too far into your space. Her finger pokes the book in your hands, pushing it closer to you to read the cover, only a low hum leaving her throat.

She bumps her knee with yours, a silent you alright? She’s seen you get overwhelmed at assemblies and work parties before, often keeping an eye on you as you stuck to a corner, too polite to leave the room. You bump her knee back, a little smile on your lips, a quiet I’m okay. Melissa plays with the creases in her jeans as she tries to think of what to say, but you beat her to it.

“You know what’s fucked? You can’t even check out the books here,” you state with exasperation. “What’s the point of having all these books if you can only read them if you come here?”

Melissa warms with affection at your word, “No one would bring them back, hon.”

“I would,” you mumble with an incredulous tone in your voice, “but no, not even a checkout fee or, I don’t know, collateral.”

“Collateral!” Melissa laughs out. “Gonna hand over your watch to hold onto until you bring the book back?”

“I’d give them my car for those early editions of Mary Shelley’s work,” you half-joke as you nod towards the faded green and blue books. You look at Melissa for a moment, reading her face quickly before leaning into her space, “don’t even suggest stealing them.”

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

Melissa never cared much for the classics, especially not the ones assigned to her in school. She preferred the historical fiction and true crime novels her grandfather introduced her to, but there was something intriguing about the ones you were showing her. There is peace in the way your fingers trace over the pages, a sort of reverence in how you hold each book. Sylvia Plath and Emily Brontë, Greek tragedies and comedies, they never sounded this interesting as they did when they came from your lips.

The world outside of this hidden corner continues to disappear around the two of you, the prying eyes peeking around the corner are completely lost on the two of you. Your eyes on the books, Melissa’s eyes on you. Ava and Barbara’s eyes, on the other hand, were flicking between the two of you before finding each other's eyes. A shared nod began the next step in their plan.

Ava, in a highly out of character fashion, quietly left the bar without saying anything to anyone, and drove off towards Iggy’s apartment. Barbara, pretending not to notice, went back to her conversation with Gregory regarding what he plans on growing in the garden for springtime. It’s Janine who notices Ava’s lacking presence, she peeks out into the parking lot, and sure enough, the silver car you’d arrived in was gone.

In a child-like fashion, Janine tugs on Barbara’s sleeve to gain her attention, “Ava’s gone.”

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

“Ava, she left. Like, gone. Not here,” without having to ask Barbara to be the one to tell you, Janine was definitely hinting at not being the one to say your best friend ditched you here.

The kindergarten teacher follows the maze of shelves, steps quickening as she gets closer to hushed voices in the furthest corner. In your own little, say you and Melissa, her legs stretched out as she leaned back against her hands while you sat close to her in criss-cross. There are two piles of older books in front of you, ones you had already shown her and the ones you were going to, and Melissa seemed completely unbothered by the infodumping you laid upon her.

Barbara politely clears her throat to make you aware of her presence, watching you nearly jumping away from Melissa as you realize the closeness between you. Pretending not to notice she speaks carefully, “dear, I just wanted to tell you that Ava left a couple of minutes ago.”

The nerves you felt dissipate, annoyance and a small anger taking its place, “what do you mean? She fully just left? Did she even say anything?”

“No, she must’ve snuck out. Janine noticed before the rest of us that she’d taken off,” Barbara is impressed by her own ability to fib so easily.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, keeping yourself from exploding. You rise from your spot next to the redhead, who is quick to follow in your stride, and grab your phone to call you friend. Speedily stepping through the shelves, you step outside as you press Ava’s contact.

She picks up on the second ring, which only pisses you off further, “what’s up, boo?”

“Where the fuck are you? You did not just seriously ditch me,” you waste no time.

“That little library was not the vibe. Plus, you were too busy nerding it up with Red,” she jokes, almost mockingly.

“You were my ride, Ava,” you sigh, “this isn’t cool, especially when I’m going to have to ask Janine to drive me home since she carpooled with Jacob and Gregory.”

“I know who you can ask for a ride,” the laugh she speaks through only hammers home your aggravation, “maybe she’ll give you more than one.”

A hard groan escapes your throat, “you owe me big time, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later,” she hangs up on you before you can respond, the beeping tone of the disconnection feels more mocking than your friend straight up laughing in your ear.

When you step back inside, your brows are furrowed, deep creases on your forehead as you practically steam with anger. Never before would Janine, Gregory, or Jacob say they were intimidated by you, but right now, they can’t deny that you are almost as frightening as Melissa’s angry walk. Barbara looks at Melissa pointedly, motioning with her head towards you to tell her to talk to you.

The redhead is already in motion, immediately in front of you, “what did she say?”

Sarcasm and irritation drop from your voice, “the ‘library’ wasn’t ‘her vibe,’ so she’s apparently ditching me to ride home with Gregory and the Chipmunks.”

She doesn’t want to laugh at your predicament, but she can’t help it. Her hand rises to rub your arm reassuringly, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Let me get you home,” the gentleness in her voice makes the icy anger in you melt into a puddle, the hand on your arm was grounding.

“Okay,” your voice just above a whisper in the space between you.

“Okay,” her tone matching yours as she smiles.

Melissa’s car is warm, her presence beside you warmer. With only a couple blocks left before you reach your apartment, you find yourself wishing you knew how to slow, or even stop, time. Would inviting her upstairs seem forward? Is asking her if she wants coffee better? No, stupid, who wants coffee at ten at night? All you need is to be around her.

When her car parks in the lot of your building, neither of you move, not you to get out or her to tell you to. You turn your face towards her, resting your chin on your shoulder, peering through your lashes at her. She matches your position, looking back at you with a little grin.

“Thank you for listening to me,” your voice is quiet and insecure.

Melissa leans a little closer, “thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll see you Monday?” You don’t want to leave, but despite it being Friday, it has also been a school day. You’re tired, and you can see in her slightly droopy eyes that she is too.

“Bright and early,” she answers, eyes flicking to your lips shortly in a way you wish you hadn’t seen. She makes it impossible to want to leave.

Melissa stays in her parking spot until you disappear into the building, not before you glance once more at her and wave shyly. Her head rests against the steering wheel as she struggles to compose herself, before pulling out on the street.

You both fall asleep that night to dreams about the secret corner you’d found yourselves in, books stacked around while your eyes stayed on each other.

—☽—

There’s a certain pep in your step come Monday morning, but a small amount of dread knowing you’ll have to face Ava later. She knew better to keep her distance over the weekend, but though your annoyance with her was fading, it was definitely there. You push into the lounge, immediately gravitating towards the coffeemaker.

You enjoy the hum of the TV, Jim Gardener’s voice coming from the speakers as you focus on Melissa in your periphery. Clicking steps in the hallway stiffen your back, all eyes in the room shifting to you as your best friend, boss, and ditcher enters. The cocky smile on her face falls when you stand and leave the room without a word.

“Seriously? Still mad?” Ava asks with such a genuine tone that Gregory’s head drops into his hands.

Melissa speaks before Ava can even blink, feeling like she had to defend you after seeing how upset you’d been, “so selfish you couldn’t even give a heads up? Some best friend you are, ditching them.” Ava only responds by raising her hands in defeat, giving up on an argument with Melissa before it starts.

“You checking on that one or should I?” Mr. Johnson asks from the doorway where he’s collecting the trash, his eyes set on Melissa. His answer is just the second grade teacher pointing at herself in question, surprised that he would’ve thought of her to check on you. His face screws up, “duh? Who else?”

She listens. When Melissa reaches your classroom, quickly carried by fast and angry steps, she sees you at your whiteboard, writing the agenda and date on it. The unusually harsh strokes of your writing show her exactly what mood she’s walking into. She almost jumps when she knocks on the door and your head whips her way, hard face softening.

“Hey,” you breathe out, going back to writing the afternoon’s schedule.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you,” she she says as she slides the orange marker down towards you.

“I’m fine, really. I’m mostly just pissed Ava left me like that and thinks it’s hilarious. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but apparently not,” you huff, “just like her mom always says, Ava’s gonna Ava.”

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

“Till she actually apologizes and doesn’t just assume it’s all good, it’s the only way. I’m not even that mad about it, if she wanted to leave she could’ve just said,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “it’s the principle of it.”

Melissa glances over your face, grateful you don’t seem to notice, and she realizes it's less anger, more disappointment. It’s so starkly different from the smile that played on your lips and the gleam in your eyes just the other night. She so badly wants that back, she craves your smile.

It took three days for Ava to finally apologize, and she only does when she comes over to your apartment, no interest in letting the other hear her grovel. She hadn’t meant to make you upset, she was just trying to get you and Melissa alone, and so far, her efforts seemed to be working. She was diligent to not let out that it was a joint plan between her and Barbara, and that Melissa was getting played just as much as you.

—☽—

A snow storm Thursday night almost takes out your power, and the chill seeps through the brick walls, forcing you to bed early in a bundle of blankets. You wake up to your phone ringing at five in the morning, only a half hour before your alarm was to go off. Seeing Ava’s contact worried you immediately.

“What?” you say through a yawn, “are you okay?”

“Aw, you love me,” she jokes through her own large yawn.

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

“It’s a snow day, bitch. The roads aren’t too bad, but apparently the buses are fucked.”

You sigh with contentment, “snow day means I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, lazy. I’ll see you tomorrow for wine night?”

You can barely answer through another yawn, “yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s not until ten that you wake up again, sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow and making your room too bright to stay asleep any longer. The air in the room is too cold for your taste, leaving you to wrap your throw blanket around yourself as you trudge out to your kitchen for the promise of warm coffee. As coffee drips into the pot, the star-printed throw is replaced by your favorite grey sweatshirt, the faded university logo still maintaining a touch of the maroon and silver it once was.

The second cup of coffee tastes of cinnamon and cream, the warmth keeping your hands from stiffening under the cold of your building. No matter how much you turned up the heat, the draft made it obsolete. As you pour a third cup, clinging to the warmth it gave, you feel your phone buzz in your Abbott sweatpants.

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

To Melissa: on a snow day? not at all. why? 

From Melissa: I’ve got a surprise for you.

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

When she doesn’t answer, anticipation starts to take hold. It hits you as you nervously sip your coffee, you’re still in your pajamas and Melissa is coming. You tumble down to your room, switching the sweatpants for an old pair of jeans, the faded sweatshirt for a thick black sweater, fluffy socks into slippers. Part of you grapples if you should make coffee for the both of you, the other part tells you a fourth cup may give you a heart attack upon seeing Melissa, your heart would never be able to take it.

A quiet ping from your phone alerts you that Melissa is down in the lot as she waits for you. You don’t even take a moment to answer, just quickly throwing on your denim jacket before hurrying down the steps to the bottom floor. Peeking your head out, you see the only car with lights on, the familiar black car making you smile. The snow had slowed overnight, wisps still quickly sticking to your hair and clothes.

Melissa doesn’t notice your approach, not until you tap on her frosted window with your knuckles, making her jump. She was lost in her mind, thinking about how bad of an idea it was, startling quickly at your tap, but quickly soothed by your smile and little wave. Melissa steps out of the car, leaning against it to keep you from peeking in her window and seeing the passenger seat.

“You really shouldn’t’ve driven, what if the roads were nasty?” you say with concern, despite the fact that you couldn’t be happier with her presence.

“They weren’t, I got here just fine,” she says, placating the worry.

You can’t even hide the smile that shows itself, “what sort of surprise was worth the black ice?”

“There was no black ice,” she laughs, shifting under your gaze, “but I hope it’s a surprise you’ll like.” There’s an unusual nervousness in her, one that you can’t help but feel and want to soothe.

“If it’s from you, I definitely will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me,” you cock your head to the side, a sly smirk on your face. Melissa ducks her face, concealing her blush. She opens the door, leaning in to grab the bag from the seat. A deep breath leaves her lungs as she composes herself before facing you. The paper bag is stretched out towards you, green eyes begging you to relieve her of this weight.

You try to be careful, not wanting the gentle snow to touch the contents. Peering up at Melissa, she urges you to open it. You reach in and feel something, a cloth covered board you think, until you feel what you think are pages. A book? No, three.

You pull back your hand, the books coming with it. A faded green cover with black serif text reads Frankenstein, the blue reads The Short-Stories of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: A Complete Collection, and the final red one, Mathilda. The books you had fawned over a week ago were now in your hands, the very same you said you’d give your car for. No words form, only thick tears in your eyes that you pray don’t fall. They were the exact same books, the copies from the bar, and now they’re in your hands.

You can only look at the redhead, absolutely bewildered. She gives you a weak smile, having a hard time gauging your reaction and you slide the books back into the bag to protect them. There’s no warning, not verbal or even a glint in your eye, before you fling yourself onto her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, oh my fucking God, thank you, thank you, what the fuck?” your words fall out of your mouth, barely able to contain the delight running through your veins.

Melissa doesn’t answer right away, only wrapping her arms around you and basking in the feeling of you there. You smell like coffee and cinnamon, she wishes she could find out if your lips taste the same. Neither of you move, not wanting to be the one who breaks away first.

After a minute, your face lifts from her neck, but you don’t remove yourself from her arms. She meets your gaze, watching you watch her. Melissa is the most beautiful person you’ll ever meet, you’re sure of it. But right here, right now? She’d never been more so, nothing else compared to the snow stuck to her lashes, the pink of her cheeks from the chilled air, the lack of makeup across her skin allowing you to see all her freckles and the lines around her eyes.

“You got me the books,” it's a simple sentence, but there’s a weight to it that Melissa almost can’t handle.

She smiles so softly it makes you want to cry, “you love them, you wanted them.” The look in your eyes changes, and Melissa seems to notice. She finally speaks up, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is, at least I hope not,” you answer truthfully.

“Why that look on your face then?” Her lips look so soft, you have to tell her.

You swallow your pride, pursing your lips before telling her the thought that had been on your mind since you met her, “I really want to kiss you.”

It appears she feels the same, Melissa immediately leans into you, lips pressing to yours. You knew they’d be soft, and God were they. Her hands plant themselves on your hips while yours cup her neck, pulling her as close as you possibly can. Spinning suddenly, you find yourself pressed against her car, cold metal freezing you through your layers, but warm lips make the cold feel little. For someone so abrasive, Melissa was so soft, holding you like you were the most precious thing to her. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. And who are you to deny her?

Her tongue traces yours, a groan comes from deep in your chest that only spurs her on further. She presses impossibly closer to you, hands sliding up to hold you at your ribs, pressing into your jacket in an attempt to get closer. Your blunt nails dig into her neck, not enough to hurt, just to feel more of her. All you’ve wanted since you met her was to be this close, and it felt like an unreachable dream until now.

Her lips pull away, only to be chased by yours. You press gentle, chaste kisses to her lips, and it only becomes more difficult as matching dopey grins grow on your faces. Her hand rises to your cheek, caressing the chilled skin that warms under her touch.

She barely hears your words over her rapidly beating heart, “you’re so pretty.”

“Haven’t seen yourself then, huh?” she jokes, pretending your statement didn’t make her feel like a giggly teenager.

“Funny, but I mean it. You’re so pretty,” your hand shifts around her cup her jaw, “I can’t believe you got those books for me. How?”

She smirks to herself, “I just asked nicely.”

“Nicely? Did you bat your lashes and give them that award-winning smile?” The sarcasm that should have been there sounds more like adoration, the lazy smile on your lips making them look even more kissable than they’d been before.

“Exactly, they just handed them right over,” she feels like a pile of mush with you looking at her like this.

The hand on her jaw pulls her in closer, “they’d be stupid not to.” There’s no chance to reply, just your lips pressing to hers again. It feels as easy as breathing with you, like she was supposed to be doing this the whole time. When you pull away, it’s just barely, a silent request in the way you stroke her cheek.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from you to take her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse from the floor of the car. An arm wraps around hers as you lead her towards the door to your building, the other tightly holds the books against your chest. It was too soon to say it, but you knew that right here, right now, you were utterly in love with Melissa Schemmenti. The woman who probably threatened the employees at the Penman’s Alcove for the books when they said she couldn’t buy them, the one who listened for two hours as you spoke about authors and books she’d never cared about before.

She cared now. She cared because you did.

Melissa knew the moment you saw the books, that she would do whatever it takes to see that wonder on your face again. She thinks to herself that endeavor would be a good way to spend the rest of her life.

title is from a quote from mary shelley’s frankenstein: “you are still, as you ever were, beyond beautiful expression.”

i chose the st. dominic for mel’s pendant bc hes typically worn by educators

feedback appreciated as always <3

[tasteleeknow]

— make a wish

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k

summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.

a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i'm sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎

afab!reader. profanity. anxiety mention. pet names. oil massage. unprotected intercourse. praise kink. grinding. breast groping. fingering. possessive behaviour.

You couldn’t afford to get your boyfriend anything for his birthday. You’d considered borrowing some money from your friends. Anything you could afford felt totally inadequate. It was embarrassing. You had been so stressed about it Minho had noticed your low mood. “Just stressed with work,” you’d told him. It was only during a phone call with your parents you’d had an idea. When you were little you’d made your parents small coupon books for their birthdays. Each page would have a small redeemable favour they could use at any time. Things like vacuum the house, breakfast in bed, clean the bathroom etc. When you had no money of your own the little ticket books were your solution. Why couldn’t they be now?

You’d spent the last few days with the small book in your pocket, pulling it out and adding a page whenever a new idea popped into your head. You knew he’d pretend to like whatever you got him. Whether he was actually happy or not, you’d never know. You couldn’t help feeling anxious about it. You’d woken up before him this morning to make him breakfast, fiddling with the small book periodically—second guessing giving it to him at all. You could just tell him his gift hasn’t arrived yet, go borrow some money and buy him something nice. 

He sits across from you now, devouring the pancakes you’d made—his hair fluffy from sleep. He’d hardly said anything since he’d woken up, stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into the chair—half asleep. You wonder if now is the best time to give him the coupon book, while he’s too sleepy to think too much about it. 

“Come here,” Minho mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes, pushing his chair back and patting his thigh. You shove the small book in your pocket and stand to make your way to his side of the table. He watches you approach him, eyes dropping to your bare legs. 

You were wearing a sweater you’d stolen from him, some panties and a pair of fluffy socks. Lazy day attire. When you’d asked him if there was anything he wanted to do on his birthday, he’d stretched his arms above his head and mumbled. He wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. You’d thought maybe you could make up for the gift with a trip somewhere nice. Obviously not.

You settle yourself in his lap, thighs across his legs, side pressed to his chest. “Feed me,” he says, a serious expression on his face. 

You wrap one arm around his neck, holding yourself against him. “No please?” 

“It’s my birthday.”

“So I'm just your personal servant today then?” 

“Mm, pancake,” he says, opening his mouth in preparation. Maybe he will like your coupon book. You pull your arm from his neck so you can reach over to cut up the pancakes. His arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. You hold your hand under the fork as you bring it to his mouth, ready to catch any spillage. 

“Say ahhh,” you prompt, treating him like one of the small children you’d babysat as a teenager. He frowns, leaning forward to latch onto the fork to steal the food. He leans back, eyebrows relaxing—a satisfied expression forming on his face as he chews. “Baby,” you tease, poking his cheek. 

“You’re supposed to be nice to me today.” 

“I’m always nice to you.” 

“Extra nice. Another,” he says, finished with his mouthful. You feed him another, watching him chew. You may as well give him the book. You could always tell him you had another gift coming. You reach into your pocket to pull the small book out. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching to snatch it from your hands. You pull it away from him just in time. 

“Be patient or you can’t have it.” 

“It’s for me then?” he says, a grin forming on his face.  

“Only if you’re good.” 

“I’m always good.” 

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s…not much. I couldn’t really…afford much else so I thought—” 

“Give it,” he says, reaching to snatch it from you. He’s successful this time. You hold your breath as he inspects it, snaking one arm around his neck so he can free both his hands. He’s quiet as he reads the small note you’d written on the first page, then he flicks through. 

“I can use these anytime?” he says finally. 

“Yeah, whenever.” 

“What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to one of the pages. 

“I’ll pet you.” 

His nose scrunches as he pulls a face. “Why would I want to be pet?” 

“You love being pet.” You reach up to stroke the hair at the back of his head. “Like when I stroke your hair as you’re falling asleep.” 

“Now I have to pay for that?” 

“You just get to ask for it whenever you want.” 

He’s silent as he flips through a few pages. “I want to redeem this one right now,” he says, ripping out one of the tickets. You take it from him so you can read it. 

“Clean the cat litter for a week.” You look across the room to the three litter trays against the wall. “Alright then, your week starts now.” 

“Good, I haven’t done it this morning,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “This one, too.” You take the piece of paper from him. 

“Return one of your sweaters,” you read.

“I want this one back, right now.” He tugs at the sweater you're wearing. He hadn’t worn it in months, not since you’d stolen it. You attempt to climb off him so you can go change. “No, now,” he says, holding you down. 

“This coupon is for one sweater, not one naked girlfriend on your lap.” 

“It’s not my fault you allowed the system to be easily manipulated.” 

“Let me up a second.” He loosens his grip on you just long enough for you to resettle yourself in his lap, one leg over each thigh—facing him fully now. “Help me,” you say, lifting your arms above your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he pulls the sweater up over your head—dropping it to the ground the second you’re freed. You look down at the pile of fabric on the floor. “If you don’t want that, let me keep it. It’s my favourite.” 

“I want it.” 

“You’re disrespecting it.” 

“It’s mine, I can put it where I want,” he says, leaning back in the chair and tracing his palms up your waist. 

“I hate you.”

“Did you really just say that to me on my birthday?” He says, eyes fixed on your tits. 

“Do you like it? The book.” 

“Mm.”

“Do you really or are you just saying that?”

“It’s already got you naked in my lap, I like it,” he mutters, hands grasping your breasts. You pull them off you. 

“Groping wasn’t part of the voucher.” 

“I’ve never needed a voucher before.” 

“Well, now you do.” 

“Is there a groping voucher?” 

“Take a look.” 

He reaches down to grab the book from the floor before flipping through it. You smooth his messy hair down a little as he searches. “Massage?” he reads. “Can I have a massage AND grope your tits?” 

You hold your hand out in reply. He rips the massage coupon out and slaps it on your hand then flips through until he finds a ticket with your scribbled handwriting that reads: ‘1 Coupon to Touch, Grope or Poke’. 

“I can’t believe I need to pay for this now,” he grumbles, tearing the page from the book and slapping it on top of the other in your palm. 

“One massage with groping coming right up,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and climbing off his lap. He bends over to grab the sweater off the floor before following you to the bedroom. You lay out a towel on the bed. “Lie down,” you tell him before collecting the massage oil from the bathroom. When you return he’s stripped himself fully, lying back with his hands behind his head. “Did I tell you to strip?” 

“The voucher didn’t say I needed to be clothed. You’ve got the oil anyway. You were gonna tell me when you came back, control freak.” He says, smirking at you from his reclined position against the pillows. 

“I was going to tell you to take your shirt off, not whip your cock out.” 

“You like my cock,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Don’t fish for compliments, there’s a voucher for that.” 

He pulls his hand from his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you properly. “There’s a compliment voucher?”

“Mm,” you confirm, climbing onto the bed to settle next to him.

“How many?” 

“It’s unlimited until it expires at the end of the week.” 

“Okay, compliment my cock then.” 

“I like your cock very much. My favourite cock. Very pretty. Now roll over.” 

He groans dramatically as he turns onto his stomach, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on. You climb over him, settling against his ass. You snap the cap off the oil before dribbling a generous amount over his back. He mumbles something, too muffled for you to make out. 

You lay yourself down onto him, breasts against the bare skin of his back. “What was that?” you ask before pressing your lips to the skin just behind his ear. 

“The oil is cold,” he repeats, clearer this time. 

“It’s cold? Poor baby,” you tease, sitting up again and dragging your hands down his back—spreading the oil as you go. Your breasts and stomach are slippery from where you pressed against him. He was right, it was a little cold. “I’ll warm you up, yeah?” you say, hands working the oil into his muscles. He groans as you hit a sore spot, letting you know where he needs extra attention. His muscles flex occasionally as you work, the feeling of them under your hands in combination with the noises coming from his throat make it impossible for you to stay still. The small movements of your hips against him go unnoticed. At least he doesn’t give you any indication he’s noticed. 

It isn’t until you’ve reached his lower back that he speaks up. “Take them off.”

You lift your fingers from his skin. “My hands?” 

“Panties. I can feel you rolling against me…wanna feel your naked pussy.”

“Shut up.” 

“It’s my birthday,” he whines. “Is there a coupon for it?”

“For grinding against your ass?” 

“For getting naked.” 

“...Yes.”

He lets out a contented sigh. “Best present ever.”

You can’t help it when your lips curve into a small smile in response. “You wanna use it then?”

“Mm, take them off.” 

You stand up on the bed to pull them down your legs, leaving you entirely bare minus the fluffy socks on your feet. “Socks?” you ask. 

“They can stay. Cute.” 

You lower yourself onto him, against his lower back this time. You can’t help letting a small sound escape your throat as your sensitive cunt presses against his warm slippery skin. You resume kneading his muscles as your hips roll against him, leaning down to press small kisses against his neck occasionally. Each time you lean down to kiss his neck you listen to the barely audible sounds he makes, like he’s holding back moans. 

“You warm now?” you ask eventually, voice breathy. 

“Mm,” he confirms, “Can feel your hot little cunt…so warm.” 

“This was a coupon for a massage, and now I'm naked grinding on you.” 

“Like I said, easily manipulated. No rules about combining tickets.” 

“Turn over,” you say, climbing off him. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. “Let go, I’m not done.” 

“Mm? Intermission,” he mutters before pressing his lips into yours. You feel his cock trapped between you, the oil spreading a little from your chest to his. “Compliment,” he mutters between kisses—cashing in one of his unlimited compliment coupons for the day.

“Could feel all your muscles…you’ve been working so hard...” 

“Yeah? The gym is paying off then?”

“Mm, can see it.” 

“Thank you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll lie down now.” 

You climb off him, letting him settle himself down on his back. As you reach for the bottle his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Do you need that?” he asks.

“You don’t like it?” 

“I like it, but you could oil me up another way.” He says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

You sigh, giving him a pointed look as you wait for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next. He was completely unpredictable, one of the many things you loved about him. 

“Your tits,” he finishes, lips curving into a proper grin.

“What?” 

“Use your tits to oil me, they’re all slippery.” 

“You…want me to…rub the oil from my tits onto you?” 

“It’s my birthday,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. 

“There’s no coupon for that.” 

“Just because you love me, then.” 

“Let me get the oil, I need more.” 

He releases your wrist, allowing you to grab the bottle. You climb over him and open the cap—looking up at his face. He smiles. Alright, then. You tip the bottle upside down at your clavicles, letting the oil pour down over your tits. It’s cold. When the oil hits your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. Minho’s hand comes up to grip your thigh. 

“More,” he says, voice breathy. You definitely don’t need more but you humour him, pouring oil until it drips down onto his stomach. 

“Enough?” you ask, finally.

“Mm, good.” 

You drop the bottle onto the bed next to you and use both hands to massage the oil into your tits a little. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter as you work.

“I’m a fucking genius,” he mutters, eyes fixed on your tits. You huff out a laugh, hands dropping to rest on his chest. 

“Should I oil your tits now?” 

“If you like,” he says, as if he hadn’t guided the situation exactly where he wanted it. You lower yourself down onto him, chest to chest. “Compliment,” he breathes into your mouth. You slide back and forth a little against him, the slick oil making it easy. 

“Needy,” you tease before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hm…let me think.”

“You need to think about it?” 

“You just have too many good qualities. It’s overwhelming.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

“You make me feel safe…and warm. I get this feeling in my chest when I’m with you, like everything is really okay.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his chest fully. “Another.” 

“Your eyes are the prettiest.” 

“Mm, another.” 

“You make me laugh more than anyone else.” 

“These are really unlimited?” 

“Sure, but the more time I spend complimenting you the less time I have to rub oil on you with my tits.” 

“You can't compliment me WHILE you rub oil on me with your tits? It’s my birthday.” 

“Is it? You hadn’t mentioned,” you tease, grinning down at him before continuing to spread oil over him with your body. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as you work. His hair flops over his forehead, still messy from sleep. One of his hands grips your thigh, the other above his head—resting against the pillow, palm facing up. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, his hand warm in yours. 

“Kiss,” he mutters, lips a little swollen from where he’d bitten them. You take his hand from your thigh, pressing it above his head to join the other. You hold him there, each hand in his as you taste him. He’s a little sweet from the maple syrup. You can’t help moaning into his mouth, a little overwhelmed from all the different sensations. The warmth of him under you, the slippery oil coating your torso, the slide of your sensitive nipples against his skin, his sweet lips attached to yours, his warm hands in yours.

He detaches his lips from yours to speak. “Is there—” He kisses you again, interrupting himself. “Is there a coupon for letting me oil you?” 

“No, I don’t think letting you give me an oil massage is much of a gift.” 

“Well, I do,” he says before wrapping his arms around you, flipping you under him. You felt like you’d been holding his hands to the bed pretty firmly. Apparently not. He’d pulled himself free without even a hint of struggle. His dark hair hangs down over his eyes. You reach up to play with it just before he sits back and grasps each of your tits.

“So slippery, hm?” he whispers, eyes fixed on where his hands grope you—kneading each breast thoroughly. He’d always had a fascination with your breasts, groping them whenever he had the chance. You’d often hear the bathroom door open mid shower, your boyfriend joining you. He’d lather up his hands with body wash, insisting on massaging each breast—completely fixated on them until you eventually guided his hands elsewhere. 

You wrap your hands around his wrists now, prompting him to look up at your face. “I’m slippery elsewhere, too,” you say, guiding his hands down your stomach slowly. He pulls away so he can move down the bed and push your legs apart—settling himself between them. 

“Here, baby?” he asks, one finger gently brushing against your wet cunt. You suck in a breath, already sensitive from grinding against him. His finger brushes up and down through your folds gently, like he’s never touched you before. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his soft caress. You're so blissed out you nearly jump out of your skin at the cold oil he pours over your cunt. Apparently you’d been so out of it you hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle. 

“Co-Cold,” you stammer out, back arching off the bed slightly. 

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he teases, mimicking your words from earlier as his fingers find you again—much more confident this time. He spreads the oil over your mound, then his fingers move down through your folds, massaging the oil over your cunt thoroughly. “So pretty,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to make out. 

You struggle to stay still, squirming as he plays with you. It isn’t until he presses his long fingers inside you, the other hand working circles on your clit, that you let go—back arching off the bed as you whine his name. He works you through your high, wet sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. 

He climbs over you as you attempt to catch your breath, panting into his mouth as he kisses you. So sweet. 

“Do I need a coupon to fuck you?” he whispers against your lips. 

“No,” you breathe out, “you can do that just because I love you.”

The tip of his cock kisses your sensitive cunt as he mutters against your mouth. “I want to hear compliments as I fill you.” You nod, struggling to offer him a verbal response. “Use your words,” he prompts. 

“Yes…compliments…move, please.” 

He presses forward, his tip spreading you open. Your mind blanks, as it always does when he enters you. As he knows it will. Your mouth falls open, brows pulling together. “Compliment,” he says, not pressing in any further. 

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “So—So big, always so hard for me,” you manage to breathe out. He offers you a small smile before pushing into you a little more, the oil helping him spread you open. He drops his head into your shoulder. 

“Another,” he says, lips moving against your skin. 

“Stretch me open so well, feel so full of you every time. Wish you were inside me always, just like this,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. You hold him against you as he begins moving, pressing his body into yours. He quiet as he fucks into you slow and deep, much slower than your used to. He usually liked it fast and hard, holding your hips up off the bed so he could use your cunt like a toy. He’d fuck you like that most nights, biceps flexing as he held you up. It wasn’t until he’d filled you that he’d melt, everything about him softened as he helped you reach your high—either with his fingers or his mouth.

“Tell me your mine,” he mumbles into your neck now. Slow, deep strokes of his cock splitting you open. 

“Of course I’m yours,” you answer, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. “Just like your mine, right?” 

“Mm,” he confirms before his lips attach to your skin properly, sucking a mark into your neck. You savour the feeling of him filling you as he works on marking your neck, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. When he finally detaches from your neck, you expect him to sit back—to start fucking you like he usually did. Instead he moves his head to the other side of your neck so he can begin marking you again. By the time he’s finished this one his hips are moving erratically, signalling his end. He hovers over you, breath mingling with yours as he pants. 

You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes, loving the expression he makes as he fills you. You reach up to grab the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours as his hips stutter against you, a final moan slipping from his lips.

After returning from the bathroom you find Minho quietly flipping through the coupon book, inspecting each page properly. You settle yourself against him, head resting against his chest. “What does this one mean?” he asks. 

“Read it to me.” 

“Make a wish.” 

“That’s a free for all. You can ask for anything.” 

“Anything?” 

You chuckle, hand lightly patting his stomach. “Nothing that’ll get either of us arrested…or killed.” Or cost more than I can afford, you add silently. 

He says nothing. You imagine his brain running through every possible thing he could ask of you. You imagine him asking to adopt another cat or make you come to the gym with him everyday. Every now and then you’d tag along and watch his workout. He said it was motivating. You close your eyes, nuzzling against him a little. Then the sound of paper tearing breaks the comfortable silence and he tucks the ticket into your hand. 

“I want to use it now,” he announces. 

“You sure? You only get one.” 

“One a year.”

“You want the same gift again next year?” 

“It’s a good gift.” 

You don’t hold back your smile, your face hidden from him. You believe him. He actually likes it. “Alright, what’s your wish this year then?”

He’s quiet again. His hand rests on top of yours, the ticket tucked safely under both your hands. Finally, he speaks again. “Marry me.” 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[leos-regression-cove]

Nothing in the Parenting Books Prepared Me For This

Chapter 65: Loki and Sylvie's First Birthday

Synopsis: After a night of partying and loud celebration, Loki and Sylvie spend their real birthday being small and having a snuggle with their daddy and Thor.

Word count: 4,228

Stand Alone?: Yep!

Warnings: Sylvie's abandonment issues, alcohol mention, Sylkius shipping implications (outside of regression)

Notes: No plot, just vibes sort of writing on this one lads.

Read it on AO3!

Loki woke on the morning of December seventeenth with the biggest, happiest, grin on his face, no hangover to be seen, and a little headspace so strong, it probably could have defeated Thor in a game of tug-of-war. He wiggled with joy, much to the annoyance of Sylvie, who was still taken by sleep beside him. 

The previous night had been long and full of the delights that Loki had so often prided himself with on Asgard; downing Mezcal and drinks by the bottle, in loud, strobing clubs with blaring music. Sylvie joined in her fair share with the partying and booze, and many friends came along on the ride, with Mobius as part designated driver, part Loki wrangler. 

After not finding the plush body of Mobius within reach, he got up. “Daddy?” he asked, peeking around corners and in increasingly unlikely places like the crawlspace under the floor and the linen closet, or under beds and on top of shelves. 

“It’s just me,” Thor said from the couch. 

Loki hadn’t even noticed him. “Where daddy?” he asked. 

“He went out to get a very special surprise for both of you.”

“What, What, What!?” Loki half-asked-half-exclaimed.

“I can’t tell you!” Thor told him.

Loki checked Thor’s brain, but realized fast that the truth was, Thor did not know. 

“Um, what doing?” he asked, changing the subject, “is birfday!” he made sure to remind Thor. 

“I’m well aware it’s your birthday, little brother” Thor reassured the little, pausing and setting down his game. “And which birthday would it be?”

Loki held up 2 fingers, at first, but set down one cautiously. 

“Your first birthday?” 

Loki confirmed, sticking his hand in his mouth.

“That must be very exciting.” 

Changing the little this morning was no easy task, but Thor managed to slip the baby into a thick diaper and a snappy onesie which Loki had made himself with magic. “My 1st Birthday” was written in big green letters on the front. 

“Seevee! Seevee!” Loki squeaked. As soon as he was freed from the seat of the changing table, he toddled back to the master bedroom to see if he’d have a mummy or a big sister, or perhaps even a little or a twin sister today. 

She mumbled and swatted him away. 

That wasn’t helpful.

“Birfday, Seevee!” he explained. 

The normally early riser seemed to be too exhausted from last night to care. 

She mumbled a little grunt of exasperated frustration in response to Loki and her own hungry belly not letting her ignore the delightful smell of cooking eggs and meat. 

“Seevee!” Loki nuzzled into her like an excitable puppy in an attempt to get her up. 

She gently kicked him in the backside as she began to get up. 

“Birfday!” he reminded her. 

Thumb in her mouth as she got up, hair tousled by a rough night, she silently let Loki lead her out to the kitchen to see what Thor was doing. 

“Good morning, princess Sylvie,” he greeted her while plating her breakfast. “We’re going to need two highchairs this morning, aren’t we?” He questioned while plating their breakfasts. 

He set up the second chair and set Sylvie into it before tightening the straps on Loki’s and securing him in as well. 

The littles used their hands to feed themselves handfuls of scrambled eggs, pinches of hashbrowns, and bacon strips. 

Sylvie, as she recovered, began to become more chatty like Loki, pointing down at the empty spot at the table. “Where daddy?” she asked. 

“Dunno,” Loki told her, and oh boy, was that the wrong answer. 

The little girl’s face immediately twisted and went red. This was the first birthday she’d remember and Mobius wasn’t even going to show up for it? 

“Little sunshine,” Thor got her attention, getting up from his seat and setting her tray down onto the table so he could pick her up, “your daddy only left a few minutes before Loki woke, and promised he was just picking something up for you. A special birthday surprise, I promise,” he nurtured, kissing her gently on the cheek and bouncing her in his arms just lightly until she was a little less red and much less sobby. 

She finally continued working on her breakfast, and to both of the littles’ delight, Mobius soon came into the home with a white box in hand. He showed it off to them without opening it and watched as their faces lit up and any panic from the morning was forgiven. 

“Roxxcart was short staffed this morning,” he apologized, before sitting down with Thor and the birthday littles for a slightly cold breakfast. 

“Hey, do you two know what I found while I was out?” Mobius asked, while sitting on the floor with the two littles. Loki was positioned in his lap, hugging him, but Sylvie was independently building her own palace of blocks. “Take a look at this.” He reached under one of Loki’s thighs in order to get to his pocket. 

Loki peeked his head up to see what the movement was and made a squeaky babble noise as Mobius showed the little ones a small jar of fluid. 

“Do you know what these are?” he asked. 

Sylvie stopped what she was doing to crawl closer and try to grab the plastic bottle out of his hands. 

“I got you guys some bubbles.” 

“Bubbas!” Loki repeated. 

“Yeah, and we can play with them outside, if you want.” He picked Loki up without waiting for a solid yes or no. “Probably need to give you two stinkers a change anyway.” 

Loki giggled. “No! No stinky.” 

“Oh no?” Mobius chuckled. “How’s she?” he asked Thor. 

Thor rolled Sylvie over, unsnapping her onesie, and giving her a check before a couple of belly raspberries. 

The little girl kicked and wiggled with tiny squeals in response. When Thor pulled away from her, the response she gave was to reach up for him, and politely request to be picked up. 

“I can see from here birthday girl’s about to spring a leak, better give her here.” 

“Dada n’ --o Tor!” she babbled. 

“You want Thor?” 

“M--ah!” 

“Well, you heard her.”

Thor chuckled as he brought Sylvie into his arms. She was so deep in her headspace, he wasn’t sure if there was any big girl even left behind those eyes, but she seemed happy and content, so it was more of a reassurance than a worry. He hummed to her as he set her down on the changing table and started a small mobile above her head as he clicked and tightened the security strap around her midsection. 

After Thor rolled up and tossed the soggy diaper in the bin, Mobius was led into the room by a toddling, but very determined looking Loki. 

Sylvie shrieked with excitement and giggled as Loki leaned over the table and kissed her on the cheek in that babyish way that was really half a raspberry with a “m’uh!” noise. 

“I couldn’t keep him occupied without some toys,” Mobius smiled. “We set up the play pen out there for ‘em but that’s not going to be enough alone.” He was speaking more to himself than anyone else. He didn’t even pause as Thor handed him Sylvie, redressed and re-diapered. 

She grabbed at his mustache leading him to plant a second kiss on her cheek with his own little “mwah,” just to make her laugh even more, and to make Loki smile at the mimicry as he politely asked Thor to pick him up, too. 

Mobius set Sylvie on the floor while Thor strapped Loki down. 

“Do you want to trade places? Let me take diaper duty and help Sylvie put together some toys to take outside?” 

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Thor said before moving Loki’s legs into a more convenient position, for minimal kicking. 

Loki stuck his fingers in his mouth as he watched Mobius prep some outdoor toys, occasionally waving them for Sylvie or Loki to gauge their interest. The philosophy seemed to be, if the littles grabbed for it, scooted towards him, or otherwise cooed, the toy was of interest and should be brought outside. 

The adult smiled a little bit every time the baby boy nearly fell off the table or got in Thor’s way because of it. 

Sylvie picked up on this too, taking one of the rattles Mobius dropped in the small bag and holding it up for Loki.

He screamed with joy and tried to grab at it, just to stick it in his mouth and chew on the rubber pieces of it as Thor re-buttoned his onesie and pulled his tutu back up. 

Loki wrapped his fingers around strands of his big brother’s golden hair as he was taken into a big bear hug, still keeping the toy in his mouth, only taking it out to shake it, rattling the colorful plastic beads inside. 

Thor brought him up so that Loki’s upper half was higher than his shoulder, with the little’s legs wrapped at his waist. 

Outside, the babies sat on a small quilt. Most, if not all of the toys and chewed-up toddler books were familiar. Same barely cushioned dirt ground, and same silly daddy and Thor showering them both with love and affection. However, instead of sitting with them like usual, Mobius stood up on one side of the blanket and took out the bubbles he had teased earlier, spinning the plastic stick around in the soapy fluid and squatted down to blow some soapy bubbles on a comfortable level for them. 

Sylvie laid down on her belly, rolling herself up to bat at them and pop a couple. Loki meanwhile, chose to sit upright and clap, trying to squish the bubbles with loud smacks, followed by happy wiggles. 

Some low forest wind scooped the bubbles upward, away from the natural grasp of the babies. So, Loki did the only thing he could think to do, and slowly propped himself up, finding his balance and stable footing.

He grabbed at one, popping it, then another, and then he-- 

“Loki! You can’t eat the bubbles!” Mobius laughed. 

Loki grinned and did it again. 

“Hey, you keep doing that and we might have to find a new activity,” he warned, slightly more seriously this time. 

Loki’s mischievous smile widened even more, and when Mobius blew another breath of bubbles, he tried once more to bite it. 

Mobius met eyes with Thor, and gave him a small nod. 

In one short movement, Loki was off the ground up in Thor’s arms. He immediately realized that this was not the desired outcome he had hoped for and screeched, thrashing and kicking to be put down. He wasn’t crying yet, just angrily yelling and throwing a tantrum trying to get down and back to his bubbles. 

Finally, he got a couple of crocodile tears to slide down his cheeks. That’s when Thor finally offered him some comfort, planting a kiss on his forehead and walking away with the cranky boy. 

Thor plopped him down into a plastic seat a few yards away and popped a thin hollow plastic piece into place between Loki’s legs before stepping away. 

Loki immediately stopped any sign of struggle or distress and put his fist in his mouth, sucking on the top of his knuckles, curious to see where this was going. 

Then, the seat moved and a peep escaped him. 

Sylvie got up and wandered to the source of the noise in an awkward baby toddle, holding her daddy’s hand as she did. 

“Dah-dee!” Loki screamed. 

“Hey princess, what do you think of the big birthday present?” Mobius asked, still keeping Sylvie far out of kicking range as Thor pushed the swing higher. 

The little grinned and kicked. 

“Is it just like at the park?” 

Loki ignored that question, in favor of observing the feeling and his surroundings. 

“Should we give Sylvie a turn?” Mobius asked as the second, and possibly smaller headspaced, little clung to him. 

Loki considered and crossed his arms, crinkling up his nose. 

“Do you want to help me push her? Play big brother for a minute?” 

“Umno?” 

“That’s funny, but we are going to give Sylvie her turn. It’s her birthday too.” He said, grabbing the plastic rim of the swing underneath Loki’s bottom and slowing it to a stop before picking Loki up from under the thighs and helping Sylvie up in his place. 

Thor tested the waters with a tiny push, and a bigger one, and then a huge one! Picking her up so that the bum of the swing was held above his head. 

That was enough. She giggled and made a few happy babyish noises as the ropes holding her upright lost and gained tension, creating a weightless feeling. 

He came around to the front and pushed her from the soles of her feet. 

As Loki watched, he felt as though he should feel a pang of jealousy. She was getting attention, after all. She was having fun. She was a sun, full of happiness while using their shared new swing.

But for once, he didn’t. He was happy that she was happy. He hadn’t even noticed it until Mobius said something: “Are you watching her? Isn’t she interesting?” he teased. 

Loki looked back at him. The smile didn’t fade, but he simply became aware of it. 

Sylvie heard and took a minute to make a babyish wave down at them. 

“Look at her, she’s having her best birthday ever, isn’t she?” 

Loki nodded. 

“Are you having the best birthday ever, yet?” 

Loki burrowed his face in Mobius’ shoulder, creating an awkward hunch, and hugged him tightly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm!” 

“I’ve got an idea if you want to make it even better…”

Loki’s grin widened. 

After a bit more playtime, Loki and Sylvie were each led to the nursery for the typical nappy checks and changes. No part of this was an improvement to Loki.  

Sylvie sat back on the padded table cushioning, chewing on her pacifier. “S-ing!” she whined. 

“We are going to sing,” Mobius reassured her with a smile. “You’re a real smarty-pants. You know that? Hard to believe it’s only your first birthday.” 

She pointed outside “Essing!” she tried again. 

“Yeah, you like the new swing?” he asked. “I think Loki likes it, too.”

“Mm-- uppansing!” she complained. 

“We will, we will. Soon. We’ve got all the time in the world. How about we have some cake first?” 

He asked, fully removing her onesie and tutu now. 

Loki stood up with this development. “Em-me!” he demanded. 

“You next?” Mobius asked. 

“Dahdee em-me!” 

Mobius unsnapped the little’s onesie and lifted it up, over the tot’s head before having him step out of the tutu. “You’re naked!” he teased. 

Loki repeated the word. 

Sylvie seemed to mind even less than Loki did, sitting on the floor in just her nappy, and opening up a board book from their shelf as she patiently waited for Loki’s change to be done. 

“Do you both know why?” 

Neither baby responded. 

Mobius tried his best to hide his growing excitement with the surprise. 

He secured them both in their highchairs and slid the trays into place as Thor took the large white box out of the fridge. 

Thor looked down at it as if it were a briefcase of money he was hiding from the littles, covertly smushing all the green candles he had into its contents. 

If Loki wasn’t restrained by the highchair’s shoulder straps, he may have tried to look, himself. 

“Wow, look at that,” Mobius said as Thor lifted a beautiful cake out of the box. 

It was a light green with darker green and yellow frosting details as well as a big “Happy Birthday Loki and Sylvie!” in big black cursive icing on the top. 

He took a lighter and began to light all 30-or-so candles covering it. Even the text was covered. “Are we doing the American birthday song or the Aesir one?” 

Thor crinkled up his nose thinking about it. “The Aesir one is going to be too long for the little ones.”

“Alright then. Are you ready? 3…2…1!”

Gently, as the song went on, Mobius raised the cake up in between the highchair trays so that the candles and cake were close in between the littles. 

“Go ahead, blow them out!” he encouraged them at the end. 

Sylvie spit as she blew. Visibly. But Mobius was pretty used to sharing spit with them, and Thor… was Thor… -- He’d probably eat raw meat off the ground if given the opportunity. 

 The little girl clapped excitedly, mimicking Thor and bubbling over with sheer babyish glee as she watched Mobius cut and plate two big slices of cake, setting them on the high chair trays without utensils. Then, he cut a smaller one for himself and handed the knife to Thor. 

At this point, he had expected them to be knuckle deep in frosting and crumbs, but they patiently waited as if he would do something more. 

“You kiddos can dig in,” he said. “We won’t start til you do. “First birthday bite” and all that.”

Loki sat slightly more upright and reached out for him. 

Mobius gave a small sigh behind a smile and set down his plate in order to cut off a little bite of cake for Loki with the side of his fork, feeding it to him with the jetski noises included. “I really thought you two were gonna play in it-- …oh.” As he leaned back, away from Loki, he felt something press against his cheek and turned just in time to catch Sylvie in the act of touching him with her yucky, frosting covered fingers. 

She grinned and squealed.

“You two never disappoint, do you?”

Loki smirked back at him as he began to pick apart his own slice with his hands now. 

As Mobius stepped away to clean himself up, he kept the corner of his eye looking out for the two tots and prepared his cell-phone camera to take lots of pictures of them. 

It was pretty safe to say both littles played with their food more than they ate. They would shove a pincer-grasp full, or maybe a small fist, into their mouth and then wipe any excess frosting on themselves, the other little, or the plate. When the other tot was the victim of such an act, it was met with a giggly scream and an attempt of retaliation. 

Loki tried first, shoving a small chunk of cake just barely into Sylvie’s mouth. He could hardly reach her from his chair. 

Then, it was Sylvie’s turn. She took a small handful and tried to reach over and get him back with the last remanence of cake on her plate… but her reach was too short! 

Splat! 

The little glob of frosting and cake mush fell from her fingertips and onto the floor in between them. 

They bonked their heads together as they both leaned in to look down at it. 

Then, Sylvie groaned. The low growl got a little bit louder as she looked up at her caregivers, and then eventually, it became a whine that grew into a cry.

Mobius gave her a sympathetic look, whispered something to Thor, and walked away. 

Sylvie gave her best frustrated scream and began a small fit. She was still just a little too small to process that she had an equal amount of cake around her mouth, down her chest, on her arms, and even around her belly button and the waistband of her nappy, stuck to her with buttercream. Daddy just needed to give her more, that would make up for it! 

Mobius retrieved something out of the fridge: a small metal container, and shook it up. 

Loki may have been bothered by the second little’s fussing if he had not spotted Mobius’ plan. 

She pushed on her tray and kicked at the step, while working herself up to a scream.

“Nothing a little more sugar can’t fix,” Mobius chuckled before leaning in and squirting just a little bit of cold whipped cream into her mouth. 

Sylvie froze. 

“How’s that?” 

Loki giggled and opened his mouth wide for some, too. 

Sccchhhhh the can hissed. 

“Dah-dee silly!” Loki cooed with his mouth still full.

Slowly, a smile crept onto Sylvie’s face. She licked around her lips and babbled something to Thor, who warmly greeted her and asked if she had liked the cake her daddy had bought, as if she was capable of a coherent response. 

“Umumam! Mmnumum!” she answered.

Thor grinned at her and set his plate in the sink. “Would you like to tell me more?” he asked, setting his elbows on the little’s tray without heed to the mess she had painted on it with green and yellow colors. 

“Aah!” she squeaked with a grin. “Ahbaba!” 

“Do you like being all messy like that?” 

Sylvie continued to babble back at him as he grabbed a paper towel and began to wipe her face and hands. 

“Don’t worry too much about cleaning her up,” Mobius told him, finally getting Loki’s equally-frosting-covered tray removed. “I’m gonna run them a bath.” 

“That would be best.” Thor agreed as he realized the amount of cake he was dealing with. It was like none of it had even made it into her mouth. 

“Cake!” Sylvie finally managed to spit out as she was removed from her high chair. 

“There’s more in there for you,” Mobius reassured her. “You’ll have another piece after dinner tonight, I promise.” 

She hummed and stuck her fingers in her mouth as Mobius held her wrist in one hand, and cradled Loki’s bum in the other. 

Mobius ran the water warm with some lavender bubble bath and began to wipe down the tots with a washcloth while sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, leaning down to get the messy littles as they sat on the tile floor, playing with their rubber bath toy boats and sea serpents until Mobius had them take turns lying down so he could get them out of their diapers and clean them up to get them ready for the warm water. 

Sylvie made an audible sigh as she submerged herself, stretching out underneath the layer of bubbles, only for Loki to plunk himself in after her and rudely demand she share the room.

After the water had been drained, and Mobius was just as sufficiently soaked as they were, he broke the news of what was going to happen next.

“No nap fir birfday!” Loki scoffed. 

“Aw, but I’m so sleepy!” Mobius countered, pulling the towel wrapped tot into his lap. “You can’t help daddy go to bed either?”

“Help?” Loki asked cautiously. 

“Yeah, you two and Thor just need to help me take a nap. Last night was just too much for daddy.” 

The little ones looked at one another and then nodded. 

“Tor no tire,” Sylvie mumbled. 

“What do you mean ‘Thor’s not tired’? What do you think he’s doing right now?”

Mobius redressed them lovingly and tried to convince them he was taking so long because he was just getting so tired. Loki and Sylvie would giggle in response, especially when Mobius leaned over and “fell asleep” on their tummies after buttoning up their onesies. 

Before leaving the bathroom with them, he set their pacifiers into their mouths and velcroed thick, fleece baby booties onto their feet. 

Mobius poked his head out the door to tell Thor that they were all done. Then he looked down. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as Loki tried to crawl past him. 

The little one babbled as Mobius picked him up. 

“You wanna go see your big brother?”

“I’m coming!” Thor yelled, setting down his video game controller and taking off his headset. 

“They’re helping put me to bed,” he explained. “Do you think you could help them read a story?” 

“Absolutely!” The god lit up as he said it. 

Mobius hopped up onto the ledge of the crib and invited the littles up, too. They had been crawling to help Thor pick a story, and only hesitantly stood in order to climb up and snuggle next to their daddy. 

Mobius slid up the bars and gave the two baby littles their bottles before giving Thor the thumbs up to start the story. 

For a second, as Thor began to read, there was a wave of peace. Mobius found himself in between two babies who’s bottles hissed gently as they suckled. His arms were tucked around their backs, and in return, they each wrapped their legs around one of his. 

Then, Loki opened his eyes and looked up. 

“What’s up?” Mobius whispered.

He took the bottle out of his mouth and held it up to Mobius.

The adult grinned “Hey, what’re you--” 

“Seepy!” Loki loudly whispered back. 

Mobius tried not to chuckle or spit up milk. He simply accepted it and relaxed, letting out a loud sigh and closing his eyes. 

When Thor closed the book, Loki decided that Mobius had had enough. He removed the nipple from Mobius’ mouth, taking it back with a little bit still left at the bottom and setting his pacifier in its place. 

“Happy birthday, brother.” Thor smiled over the ledge of the crib as he watched the exchange. “Sleep well.”  

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 25 - "Do I look like I knew that?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Edit - adjusted the last bit a little after rereading this during my break, so that it makes grammatically more sense...

There was no warning. The moment the Waynes had stepped into the main hall of this Gala they had not been prepared for what had been about to happen. The only sign they had gotten was Damian tensing for a split second before the youngest of them booked it across the hall.

Tim and Bruce instantly attempted damage control, distracting all the high society people that had noticed it, while Dick and Jason followed their youngest. Cass had already escaped the gala to the roof before they had set their first foot into the main hall.

But again, nothing could have prepared them for what was happening.

Damian not only had seen something that caused him to sprint across the room no, their Demon Brat had gone a step further and just tackled the kid of someone else over and was now wrestling with the other boy! Holding one of the daggers they must have missed to the other boy's neck.

Surprisingly, the other kid held himself pretty well against Damian. Jason and Dick spent a good five minutes just staring when they had found their youngest, only starting to move again when Vlad Master demanded answers from his child. The apparent guardian of the kid that was currently attempting to get a choke hold on Damian before getting flipped over the shoulder, the boy flipped mid air, landing on his feet.

Before Damian could lung at the other boy again Dick grabbed him, his arm wounding around Damians chest as he held onto his youngest brother that sent quite an impressive death glare towards the other kid that just returned the glare, not with the same intensity but clearly peeved had having gotten attacked out of nowhere.

"Daniel! Explain this instant! You promised me, one gala without a ruckus!" Master was clearly not amused, hopefully Bruce had some sort of peace offering ready. Not that the man needed it, Dick thought, remembering some of the reports he had seen the man on.

The boy, Daniel, turned his glare towards his guardian. "It's not my fault this time! HE attacked me first!" Jason snorted, clearly having heard out of that statement alone that Masters apparently also had a feral kid that attacked someone at a gala before.

"This is no excuse. I know you are still grieving but you can not attack my business partner's children. Wasn't it enough that you broke Andrews Mayors nose last week?"

"He deserved it, he hit a girl in a perverted way."

"Justin Gracer?"

"Made fun of my late parents' profession."

"Daniel."

"Fruitloop."

Dick watched how Masters pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly not happy with his charge. By now Damian seemed to have calmed down too from whatever idea he had gotten into his head. He was still glaring at the other kid but at least it appeared he wasn't going to attack anymore when he hissed at Dick to let go of him. He still kept a hand on his shoulder just in case.

"I am so sorry Mr. Master. It wasn't Daniel that started it. Damian, come on apologies." Dick cut in, causing the other two to pay attention and fully face them. That's when he noticed it. Daniel looked a whole lot like Damian. The older siblings shared a glance before Jason left to get the others, Tim and Bruce were still stuck doing damage control but it should only be a matter of time. What was the best way to bring it up to ask subtitle questions without appearing suspicious?

Dick was just about a question before Daniel apparently beat him to it. "Fruitloop, you did not attempt to clone me did you?"

"Little Badger, why would I do that? I already have guardianship over you."

Dick felt like he was missing something here but he also felt Daniam's shoulder tense below his hand. So that was why he had attacked. Damian thought another clone appeared. He really hoped what Masters and his Charge seid were just some ill timed joke. Otherwise the implications would be very worrisome.

"Mom and Dad didn't keep some other family relations secret did they?" Daniel then asked and Masters looked at them contemplatively. "Well Jack was estranged from the rest of his family while Maddie only had her sister Alicia and as far as I am aware you and Jasmine were their only children."

"Mr. Masters if you don't mind, would it be alright to do a DNA testing? You said Daniel's father was estranged from his family? It would be good to find out now if there is a relation." Dick ignored the glare Damian was sending him now, but this was his best excuse to get the others DNA to test if the other boy was really a clone or not. If he was then the League of Assassins must have done some serious brainwashing, and memory manipulation. This would also be the first clone of Damian that actually had a consciousness of his own.

"Doesn't explain why he attacked me…" he heard the other boy mutter as Master stared at them with narrowed eyes for a while before giving the boy by his side a contemplating look.

"Daniel has lost his family and friends in an incident recently. It would be good if we found any family he could connect with or help with his grief." The man then finally said after a moment before handing Dick a business card with a number to connect them before leading his boy away, leaving the gala for all they knew.

A week later and after a lot of discussion in their Family. The Waynes and Masters meet for the DNA testing. Though the moment Masters and his charge met Bruce both froze, Bruce in his Brucie act blinked innocently at them and asked if anything was wrong.

"Fruitloop…"

"Don't be ridiculous Daniel. I never would have attempted what you appear to be implying."

The boy pointed in at Bruce as he faced his guardian. "Look at him and tell me they don't look alike! He is like a more fit version of Dad! Like he hadn't eaten a single one of mom fudges in years! You have to have an explanation for that!"

"And how would I do that?"

"I don't know! You're the fruitloop one that had cloning equipment in the basement! Who did you buy it from? Some old fruitloop? The one you bought it from, did they try to - i don't know - clone a celebrity for themselves! The papers you had with it clearly stated that it had been used successfully once. It was a second hand bought with super old technology when I demanded you destroy the stuff!"

"Daniel, do I look like I knew that? I never looked in these papers you speak of! I just bought it as a backup plan, that I never needed a little badger! Besides the only one I would have ever attempted to clone with that time frame would have been your mother! I didn't even know your father before college! "

"Why would you buy something without looking into the papers and instruction manuals you get with it?!"

"There was no need for! Why did you even look into that when you had me destroy it anyway?!"

The Waynes looked back and forth between Masters and his charge. The more these two continued to argue the more a sinking feeling started to form in everyone present. It was Tim though that voiced everyone's thoughts as he leaned over to Bruce whispering only one question. "Are we sure there never has been an attempt of someone trying to clone you? It sounds like there had been one, years ago…"

[fandomxpreferences]

Fighting About A Funnel Cake

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:none

Summary: You're mad at Rafe, and much to your displeasure, he figures out the real reason.

Word Count:1k

Few things have ever scared Rafe Cameron. He's had guns held to his head, fist-fought his own father, and been in business with people who have the power to make him disappear. He never even flinched. 

The few things that have scared him, were nothing to do with him and everything to do with you and your life together. 

He was struck with deep visceral fear when he found out about your son, James, and down petrified when he found out about your daughter, Eleanor. 

He was drowning in fear driving you to the hospital as contractions ripped through you, and he almost threw up the first time your son got an injury. 

However, nothing elicits terror all the way in his bones as much as that look in your eyes or the fire in your voice when you're angry at him. 

Usually, he knows he did something and gets ahead of the storm. He buys you something nice, plans a date, and prepares an elaborate apology. 

You see it from a mile away, but it usually works. Tonight, however, he's blindsided and has no clue what's gotten you so worked up. It's always worse when he's clueless about his fuck up.

He has no doubt he did something; he screws up all the time without realizing it. But knowing allows him to have a game plan and tailored approach. 

Right now he's floundering. 

"Kids, go to your room. I need to talk to your father." 

There's thinly veiled rage in your voice as you try your best not to show it in front of your children. They stand to leave and Rafe's frantic voice rings out. 

"No, kids stay. Please." 

Your eyes narrow as your seven and nine-year-old falter and look between the two of you. 

"Go." 

They start walking again and Rafe stops them. 

"No, stay. I'll pay you each $50 if you sit back down." 

Your son looks at his sister and they seem to have a silent conversation when you speak through gritted teeth. 

"Go, now.' 

Your daughter starts to leave while your son stays in place and Rafe tries to grab her arm as she passes by. 

"Eleanor, stay!" 

His pleading falls on deaf ears as she beelines for the stairs and he turns to your son that's now moving in the same direction. 

"James, don't go!" 

He watches as they both disappear and calls out after them. 

"Kids, don't leave me!"

He turns back to you with a timid smile and shrinks back when he sees the storm brewing in your usually bright eyes. 

"Hone-" He starts but you cut him off. 

"Don't, Rafe."

His mouth snaps shut and he waits for you to continue. The ball is in your court, it always is. You're the only woman that's ever been able to put him in his place, and while it's the reason he fell for you, it's also the reason he fears for his life sometimes. This is one of those moments. 

Your eyes bore into him for a few moments and you take in the genuinely clueless look on his handsome features. 

"You have no idea why I'm mad, do you?"

His silence is all the answer you need, and you huff. 

"Were you going to tell me you took the kids out of school for a joyride in Charleston?"

The words come down on him like a hammer and his eyes flutter closed. Fuck.

"Don't be mad."

You scoff and cross your arms. 

"I think we both know we're well past that." 

He does know that, but he figures it couldn't hurt to try. 

"They've been begging to go to that amusement park, and our weekends have been so booked up we haven't had the chance. I felt bad, and my dad never did stuff like that with us. I just wanted to make a memory with them." 

You feel yourself deflate a bit at his reasoning, but it doesn't make it okay. 

"I understand that, Rafe. But their education is important. When you do stuff like that, especially behind my back, it makes me look like the fun-sucking parent. We promised when we found out about James that we wouldn't do that."

He nods his head and you feel the anger dissipate at the genuine sorrow in his eyes. 

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

You stand still with your lips pursed for a moment before nodding. It's silent for a few seconds when a smile breaks out on your husband's face. 

"Wait, are you really mad about that? Because we've done stuff like that before. Or are you mad that you missed out and didn't get a funnel cake?" 

The way this man sees right through you gets on your nerves sometimes, and you scramble to hide the fact you've been caught. 

"What? No, of course not. That's ridiculous." 

His smile only grows as he stands and wraps his arms around you. You stare up at him with defiance and he tilts his head to the side like a puppy. 

"Is it?"

You roll your eyes and will yourself not to give in. 

"Yes." 

He nods with a shit-eating grin and lowers his face to nip on your ear. 

"Would you still be mad if I told you we can go back this weekend and you can get all the snacks you want?"

He nuzzles into your neck when he feels your smile on the side of his face before pulling back. 

"Really?"

His heart warms at the way you light up like a little kid at the idea and he nods. 

"Really." 

He sees the moment your walls come down and you return his embrace. 

"Can we play the games too?"

He chuckles and kisses your temple softly. 

"Anything you want." 

The last of the fight leaves you and you surrender to him completely.

"Okay, fine. You're forgiven."

You squeal as he spins you around and loud laughter bubbles from your chest. 

"That's my girl. I love you."

You grin as he sets you back down and nudge his shoulder. 

"I love you too. Even if you do piss me off."

[wtfwriter]

I Promise - Clarisse La Rue x F!Reader

Reader Age: 16-17

Reader Godly Parent: Poseidon

Synopsis: Reader has just returned from the Labyrinth onto a battlefield. In an adaptation of the Battle of the Labyrinth, the Reader is faced with their own internal battle and wonders if keeping their relationship with Clarisse a secret is truly worth it, as well as facing the realities of war and its implications for their little brother.

Word Count: 3197 (I had thoughts and suddenly there were words on a google document. I had nothing to do with this.)

Preface:

Some of the lines and dialogue are written directly or slightly changed lines from Rick Riordian’s novel “Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth.” Not all of this story is originally from me. Majority of these events happen in the order that they occur in the book with some minor tweaks

Also don’t ask me how the prophecy works here okay. I just think Percy deserves a big sister idk

I'm not 100% sure what age Clarisse is in this book, but google says she's about 16-17, so keep that in mind

================================================

Even if pegasi are like neutral territory between Zeus and Poseidon, I never would fully relax while flying on the back of one. I held on tightly to my pegasus the entire time, muttering apologies for my grip to her the whole time. It’s alright, boss, she told me. If you could just let up on my skin, that would be great. 

Once we landed in Camp Half-Blood, I dismounted, petting my pegasus’ snout and apologizing again until she turned with the rest of her friends back towards the stables. Once I turned towards everyone else, Percy seemed to have already shared our story with Chiron and Silenus was arguing with Grover about Pan.

I didn’t pay much attention to this. Not because I didn’t care, but because the lines of half-bloods around Zeus’ fist caught my eye first. I watched as every single half-blood seemed to fall into place, with the Hephaestus cabin maintaining their traps, Apollo and Hermes’ cabins ready with bows in the trees, and Aphrodite kids running around combing people’s hair and straightening their armor.

What I was truly looking for, however, was the Ares cabin, which I found exactly where I knew they would be: the front lines. I surveyed for the girl I had been aching to see since I had left camp, a time that seemed much longer than it probably was. My eyes eventually found her, barking orders at her siblings.

I watched Clarisse move across the lines, prepared for battle and preparing those that stood with her. My eyes moved wherever she moved, never letting up, as if they were people who had finally gotten their first sip of water after years in a desert. I was so focused on her movements, I barely noticed when she finally looked at me.

I wondered if anyone else was following her line of sight, or mine. I wondered if we held the same expressions on our faces. I wondered if anyone could figure out what we were saying.

I love you. I’m sorry we can’t talk right now. Not with what’s happening. Not with this many people around. I will find you after all of this is over.

I promise.

We nodded at each other, faces determined, before we both turned back to our respective duties. I watched as each of my friends dispersed to do what they had to: Annabeth with her siblings, Tyson with the Hephaestus kids, and Grover went over to Juniper.

“Both of you, stay with me,” Chiron spoke. “I want you to wait so we know what we are dealing with. You must go where we need reinforcements.”

Percy and I nodded at him. “I saw Kronos,” Percy suddenly said. “It was Luke.. but he wasn’t…”

“He had golden eyes, yes? To merge with a mortal body would be… arduous. I’m not sure how he could have merged with Luke’s form without it burning into ash,” Chiron wondered aloud.

I chimed in, “Kronos said he had prepared the body.”

“I fear what that can mean. Perhaps it will limit his power, being in a mortal form.”

“Chiron,” Percy’s voice was laced with worry. “What if Kronos is leading this attack?”

“He is not,” Chiron replied, incredibly sure. “I would sense if he was drawing near. I believe you have… inconvenienced him when you two pulled his throne room on top of him.” He paused. “You two and your friend Nico, son of Hades.”

Percy looked down at the ground as I spoke. “We know we should’ve told you. It’s just—”

“I understand why you did not tell me. You felt responsible. You sought to protect him. However, if we are to survive this, we must be able to trust each other. We must —”

Chiron was cut off by the sudden wavering of the Earth. I heard Clarisse yell, “Lock shields!”

Then the Titan Army was upon us.

At first, all I saw was the Laistrygonians. Beckendorf yelled orders to fire the catapults, one of which fired a boulder that took one of them down. Arrows flew through the air. Campers gathered to bring down the remaining giants. I watched as Clarisse yelled even more orders.

Just when it seemed we were winning, another wave came out of the Labyrinth, this time of dracaenae. They were completely covered with battle armor, carrying nets and spears. I watched as some fell into traps while others were battling with campers. I looked for Clarisse again, finding her in a locked fight with one of the reptilian women.

I thought about how unfair this all was. How we were all just kids. How we were forced into this war. How all of this hate and pain was caused by hunger for power. 

I thought about how badly I wanted to take Percy away from all of this. How every day I wanted to get him away from his prophecy. How I wanted more than anything for him to be a little kid again.

I thought about how much I wanted to do with Clarisse. How beautiful she was. How she never failed to be the person I could always return to. How she promised me the world and I promised her the universe and it was still less than the both of us deserved.

I thought about how different my life could be if we were brave enough to change it. Maybe being a half-blood wasn’t something we wanted or something we could change. But, we didn’t need to be hiding anymore. It all seemed so stupid now, in the face of life and death,

Suddenly, a hellhound burst out of the opening and Chiron was yelling. “GO!”

Percy and I ran towards the hellhound. All I could see was horrifically clear images in the midst of a blur. Past friends and siblings fighting on opposing sides. Monsters disintegrating whilst others yelled triumphantly. I watched as Nico summoned a dozen undead warriors in various army attire before crumbling to the floor.

“Nico!” I yelled.

“Go! I’ll get the hellhound. You make sure he’s okay!” Percy yelled, running off as I slowed down. I pivoted to Nico, getting on my knees beside him.

“You okay?” I yelled over the commotion of battle.

“Yeah…” he panted. “Go, there’s more of them. You need to help.”

I looked up and got my first full look at everything that was happening. At the gruesome sights of battle. I watched as campers defended their home, the one place they were meant to be safe. I nodded to Nico before getting up.

I almost started to run back where Percy had gone when I heard Grover. He and Juniper were desperately trying to stop a fire that was getting dangerously close to Juniper’s tree. I rushed over, seeing Percy do the same.

I wasn’t sure what to do and by the look on his face, Percy didn’t either. The closest water source was nearly half a mile away, and we didn’t have petrified seashells here. All we could do was concentrate, praying to Poseidon, until I felt a pull in my gut. Suddenly, a wall of water appeared through the trees, dousing the fire. I sighed in relief, glad at least one crisis was averted.

Suddenly, a screech filled the air, followed by the sound of loud flapping wings. Kampê shot into the sky from the labyrinth entrance. Her right hand carried Ariadne’s string until her belt of animal heads rotated to the lion. She stuck the string into the lion’s maw. Safe keeping, I suppose.

Kampê drew her twin swords, which seemed to be dripping with poison. Chiron sent an arrow through the sky towards her, which she sensed as she moved at the last moment. Campers started to run away in fear.

“No! Stay and fight!” Tyson yelled, before being promptly slammed to the ground by a hellhound. They went rolling away.

Kampê landed on the Athena tent and Percy and I ran after her. Annabeth appeared on Percy’s side.

“This might be it,” she said.

“Could be,” Percy replied.

“Okay… morbid,” I muttered under my breath, but neither of them seemed to hear me, or acted like they didn’t.

“Nice fighting with you, seaweed brain.”

“Ditto.”

We all rushed towards Kampê, who lashed at us with her swords. My eyes burned from the poison lacing the blades. My lungs couldn’t seem to fully fill with air.

“We need help!” I yelled.

But there was no one to help. Either each half-blood was locked in their own fight or was too afraid to move towards us.

“Now!” Annabeth yelled, and all three of us rushed in at different angles. But it wasn’t enough. Kampê’s belt of animals snapped at me and I went back trying to not get bitten. 

Suddenly, I was on my back, ears ringing and head spinning. I couldn’t breathe due to a heavy weight. I opened my eyes to see Kampê’s leg on my chest, Percy pinned under the other, and Annabeth thrown off to the side, dazed and not getting up. Kampê raised her sword and I realized this was it. I prayed that Percy would get a fair judgement from the council in the Underworld, that they hadn’t all been bought out by Kronos.

Suddenly, a whirl of black pounced onto Kampê, throwing her off of us and I gasped for air.

“Good girl!” Daedalus called after her. I turned my head and watched as he slashed down monsters, followed closely behind by a friendly face… and many hands.

“Briares!” Tyson called excitedly.

“Hail, little brother!” Briares bellowed back. “Stand firm!”

Briares took up a boulder in nearly each hand, throwing them at Kampê, piling them around her. She was encased within her own makeshift monument taller than Zeus’ fist. By the time he was done, the only evidence that there was an ancient monster inside was from the twin swords still poking out between the stones.

The rocks shifted slightly, slotting into place.

Before I could celebrate that victory, I heard commotion over to the side. I turned just in time to watch Chiron get knocked down from his hind legs, laying on his side. I tried my best to get up, ignoring the ache in my chest from Kampê’s attack. 

As suddenly as I had gotten up to start running towards Chiron, I was back on my knees, covering my ears. The shrill sound seemed to come out of nowhere until I looked over at Grover. His mouth open wide, he seemed to have infinite lung capacity as the sound continued.

The enemies seemed to think better than to stick around after that. I watched dracaenae put down their weapons and sprint towards the labyrinth entrance. I watch laestrygonians rush towards the entrance right after them. More and more of the armies retreated until eventually they all seemed to have gone back underground.

Once the screeching had stopped, the sudden stillness in the air was agonizing. All I could hear was my own breathing as I heaved, still trying to recover from the previous heaviness crushing my lungs. I eventually pushed myself up and grabbed one of Annabeth’s arms with Percy.

I ran with the other two over to Chiron and kneeled in front of him.

“Are you alright? What can I do?”

“Nothing. This is embarrassing,” Chiron chuckled. “Thankfully, we don’t shoot centaurs with broken legs. I’ll be alright eventually.”

“Let me get someone from the medic tent,” Annabeth rushed, already standing up before Chiron stopped her.

“No need, Annabeth. There are far more severe injuries.”

“Guys!” I whipped my head to look for the source of the voice. “Come quick! It’s Nico.”

I shot up, running over to the black heap on the floor. I’d forgotten about him after the intense battle. Dammit.

I got down next to him, looking at his sweaty face. I grabbed his ice cold hands for a pulse.

“He needs nectar! Quickly!” Percy yelled. One of the Ares campers quickly came over with the bottle as I propped Nico up as best as I could onto my knee. Percy dribbled some of the liquid into his mouth. I let out a sigh of relief as he stirred.

“Gods, Nico. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

The boy coughed slightly before nodding. “Never tried to summon so many at once before. I’ll be okay.” He turned his head to look beside me. “Daedalus.”

I looked over at the man as Mrs. O’Leary loomed behind him, licking his wounds that were leaking oil. Freaky.

Percy and Daedalus spoke as I tried to convince Nico to rest for a moment. Of course, he refused. I shook my head at him. “One day, you'll have to stop being so stubborn,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. “Bianca would say the same thing. I’ll stop when it doesn’t work for me anymore.”

“But Daedalus,” Percy said. “Even without the string, Kronos’ army still has a way into camp.”

“You’re right,” Daedalus sighed. “As long as the Labyrinth is here, your enemies can use it. And so, the labyrinth can no longer continue.”

Annabeth stepped forward. “But, you said the Labyrinth was connected to you. If the labyrinth’s gone –”

“Yes, Annabeth. I too will be gone. And so, I have a present for you.”

Daedalus removed his satchel from his back and pulled out his laptop, engraved with a greek delta, and handed it to Annabeth. “That holds several designs of mine. Some unfinished, some I think you’ll find interesting, others I felt could never be in the mortal world. I'm positive you will find some things useful there.”

Annabeth was speechless. “This… This is priceless. And you’re just giving this to me?”

“It is less than you deserve. Less than I should do to atone for my mistakes.”

As Daedalus spoke of his time coming to an end and accepting whatever punishment he will be given from his judgment in the Underworld, I came to realize just how small we all are. Just how little we are meant to live. How many regrets we still have over such little time.

I looked around at all of the half-bloods scattered around. I saw some over at the medical tent, others scattered just hugging their friends and siblings, some sitting by the ones we lost who had been covered by thin fabrics.

I questioned my own mortality, and Percy’s. We weren’t meant to live forever. We were never going to. But with the little amount of time we both had, how many regrets would we hold with us?

I thought of Clarisse. I thought of how I hadn’t gone up to her before the battle. How I’d always regret that. I thought of how we both decided to keep our relationship a secret. How that was something I didn’t want to do anymore if it meant having to live with regrets. I thought about how I hadn’t seen her since I had joined the battle.

I looked back at the scene before me as Nico pulled out his sword and stepped before Daedalus. After being zoned out for a second, it freaked me out, until I realized Nico wasn’t raising it.

“Your time has long since come. Be released and rest.”

The relief in Daedalus’ eyes was freeing for us all. Knowing that he was truly ready brought us all some consolation. We watched as his body turned to dust.

I took Percy’s hand in mine and gave him a small smile. “I know there’s a lot to do, but there's something I have to do first.”

Percy nodded. “I know,” he said, and for some odd reason, I knew that he fully did, even though he didn’t say it. I looked down as he continued to speak. “You really didn’t have to hide it from me, you know? I was a bit upset about it at first but I think I was more… sad that you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

I looked back into his eyes and breathed out through my nose, smiling softly. “I just didn’t want you to hate me for this. More than just the ‘Clarisse’ part.”

“Oh, well, that part I might hold a bit of a grudge about,” he smiled at me in a way that told me he was joking. “But otherwise, all I care about is that you’re happy.”

We smiled at each other before Percy suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist. It felt like he was just a little kid again, like he was just my little brother, nothing more. It felt like we suddenly weren’t in the middle of a battlefield and there was an ancient monster buried in rubble just a few feet over. It felt like I was back home. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“I will kill her if she makes you cry.”

We laughed harder than we should have.

He pulls away first, telling me to “get my girl.” I don’t even think twice before turning and starting to run through the battlefield.

I frantically looked around for Clarisse, hoping and praying to every single god that she was okay. I was so frantic that I nearly missed her over by the Ares station, seeming to be ignoring something her brother was saying in favor of looking out at all of the other half-bloods.

I didn’t even think before my feet were moving. Clarisse started to walk around, looking for something. It wasn’t until we made eye contact that I realized it was me she was looking for, when her eyes softened in the way they always seemed to whenever she looked at me, like she was letting go of the anger embedded within her skin and cooling off just a bit.

It didn’t matter to me that we were surrounded by people, and Clarisse made no complaints when my left hand cupped her cheek and my lips met hers. Her arms held my waist as my right arm circled around to hold the back of her neck. I could feel the sweat that was dripping down from the battle and the adrenaline that was just beginning to crash.

I didn’t realize she was crying until I tasted the saltiness. I withdrew slightly before pecking her lips once more. The thumb of my left hand moved to her cheek and under her eye to wipe the tears.

I didn’t realize I was crying until Clarisse’s left hand left my waist to wipe the tears on the right side of my face. We both laughed slightly, bringing our foreheads together and closing our eyes. I angled my head to kiss her one more time before hugging her properly. She buried her face into my neck and I laughed at how it tickled.

“Gods, we both smell horrible.”

“I know.”

We didn’t speak for a while, soaking up each other, but it still didn't feel like enough.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

It didn’t matter that everyone at camp could see us and Clarisse didn’t seem to mind it either. There were more important things than reputation right now.

[inkskinned]

accidents happen. accidents particularly happen around children.

we make scissors designed for children because we know they can hurt themselves on it. we cut their food up smaller so they are less likely to choke. we "babyproof" our houses, make sure our medications are all closed and locked, close all the outlets.

we are told to just carry a gun.

at some point a kid is going to get hurt. everyone with or around kids knows this. often adults (who shouldn't work with kids) are a little-too-okay-with-this. they sneer that in their time, kids just got hurt. which is great for them, but i don't feel it's particularly necessary to willfully allow children to break bones just to "build character". the kids do just fine when i do my job right. i make sure, to the best of my ability, that they don't break the bone. it turns out you can still learn life lessons without trauma. yes, at some point they'll get hurt. that's the nature of it. but i like to try to keep it to a minimum of bloodshed.

about five years ago, in the middle of my summer training, the cop that came in to prepare us for mass shootings actually happened to be the same cop that used to be my DARE officer. what a small world! his hair had gone grey.

before working with children, i had no idea how many things a child can hurt themselves on. i had never thought about the possibility that a child could climb a bookshelf, only for that bookshelf to topple over. everything has to be screwed down. nothing can have particularly sharp corners - what if a child falls backwards onto it? - or be particularly breakable. no plastic bags or choking hazards. watch out for allergens, do your best to clean your super-gross classroom with all-natural (and expensive) fragrance-free products. there's a million other considerations, most of which are difficult on a public school budget. i hate the calculation - either the kids get a new playground 5 years from now OR they get new books now and just risk the tetanus.

the gun is not included in the paycheck.

we do our best, you know? but like, there's the rest of the actual job to do. we're neither trained, paid, or aided in our one-person quest to somehow get jason to stop giving himself splinters. and besides, we have the 98 other things to consider for our 30 other students. one of which is, you know, teaching them.

the children aren't prisoners. we need to walk this incredibly fine line of "chaotic exploration" and "reckless endangerment." to be frank - they're gonna do stupid shit and get hurt while they do the stupid shit. it's my job to at least try to predict the stupid shit, and minimize the risk. and before you judge the kids - i'm going to remind you that adults die every year from shaking vending machines. people just do stupid shit.

did you know that the leading cause of childhood deaths in america is to guns? we're the only country in the world with that statistic. it used to be motor vehicles, which is why there are so many laws about seatbelts, air bags, babyseats, and other protections against accidents. 1 in 5 childhood deaths will be a result of guns. of these deaths, 65% are the result of an intentional attack.

my brother often takes me to archery. i fucking suck at archery, because i have no aim, bad eyesight, and no grip strength. it's fun, though! as a teacher, archery at my school is super banned, because kids could get hurt. no throwing rocks or sticks. no impromptu self-made bows or arrows, oh my god, why do we keep having to have this conversation.

i remember this one conversation with a parent. he was chatting with me during pick-up and mentioned that kinder eggs being banned is so stupid, because, like, if a kid is gonna choke - they kind of "deserved it" for being so stupid. without thinking, my response was, "we don't typically practice darwinism at school, but you can encourage that at home if you wish!" which did result in me getting written up - for "talking back", i guess.

but his idea isn't unusual, is the thing. there's this sense that there's somehow almost an "expendable" child trauma rate. that it weeds out the weak or whatever, which is categorically cruel & dehumanizing. children should be able to mess up and have fun and - again - do stupid shit. they might get hurt, yes. but the job of the adult is to just go help the kid.

i had to quit teaching. i was really, really good at my job - 15 years of practice. but i would wake up at night, coating in sweat. trying to figure out how to bullet-proof my public school classroom with a public school budget.

bad things happen. in every other category: we try to prevent them.