#Hope WILL come get me for bedtime cuddles if it reaches a certain point.

[yoshistory]

Hope makes sure i don't stay up too late and Olive makes sure I don't sleep in too long

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH21

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: All the fluff, a tad angst, violence

WC: 3194

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gabriel drives behind Y/N to work again. It feels weird and she even offered that they could drive together but he politely declined. She guesses that he probably isn’t allowed. 

Can’t help but wondering what he’s allowed to do. If Dean only assigned him to watch her the whole time or if he has other things to take care of too. But she guesses that it’s not her place to ask. 

He gets out with her, walks her to the door and for the whole night, Gabriel’s at his usual place, just watching her.

She thinks it’s weird, of course it is, wants to tell Dean to tone it down, it’s not like she can’t defend herself. Then, she remembers that Dean doesn’t know about all this. He doesn’t know about what she really does for a living. Doesn’t know she’s the same as Gabriel. Paid to watch Dean. It’s so easy to lose herself in this life. So easy to forget that her other life ever existed. 

The thought of it should scare her. Should ring alarm bells all over, but strangely, it doesn’t. And what does that say about her?

*

Finishing up is the same as last night, too. Gabriel helps her clean up, helps her more than he had to, probably he’s glad that he can make himself useful, other than staring at a woman the whole night. 

They drive to Dean’s apartment together, yet still apart in their separate cars. 

Y/N thinks Gabriel must be bored of having to babysit her. Thinks that it’s probably the most uninteresting job he could fetch. Wonders a little, if it’s a way of punishment because he did something wrong. She hopes it isn’t.

Y/N’s bedtime ritual is the same as yesterday, which consists of feeding Cuddles, shower and then bed. It’s weird being here without Dean. The apartment feels empty, she guesses it’s because it’s so freaking big. Too big. She wonders how Dean copes with that. It’s one thing to be alone in a small apartment but to be alone here makes life seem so much emptier. But then again, she doesn’t think that Dean really spends a lot of time here anyway. 

Dean calls when she settles in bed and she is not so sure if there isn’t really a secret camera somewhere that records her every move. There must be because how else would he know what she’s doing. How else would he know that she’s in bed now and not an half hour earlier already. But she brushes it off because he most likely knows when her shift ends and he knows how long it takes for her to clean up and get back here. He also knows that she usually takes a shower once she arrives home.

“Hi,” She says, trying to sound less tired today as she was yesterday.

“Hi,” He replies and she can hear a huff of air, like he’s smiling when he says it. Like he exhales after holding in a breath for too long.

“You okay?” She asks and sits up in the too big bed, her head resting against the headboard. Cuddles is not in bed tonight because she closed the door.

“Yeah,” Dean says, and adds, “Much better now.”

“Why are you still up? Nightmare?”

“I haven’t slept yet.”

“Shouldn’t you be?”

Dean sighs, “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,”

“Is it weird that I’m scared to fall asleep? I’m terrified because I know that I’ll be up again anyway with cold sweat and racing heart. I don’t even wanna close my eyes because all I see is dirt and dust, and all I hear is gunfire and screams.”

“Oh, Dean… I’m sorry. No… no, it’s not weird. It’s perfectly normal.” She pauses before she adds, “Have you tried sleeping pills?”

“I can’t. It’ll knock me out and I need to be reachable at all times.”

“This conversation is getting sad.” She mumbles.

Dean chuckles, “‘M sorry, I really didn’t want to make you sad. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Does it make you feel better?”

“‘M already much better now.” 

“When will you be back?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow evening.”

“Okay.” She says, and it might have come out a little disappointing but she was really hoping that she’d see him before she has to go to work. And now she feels selfish.

“What is it?”

How does he know?

“Just miss you, is all.” She says because it’s the truth.

“Miss you, too.” He breathes out and she can hear that he tries to smile even if she can’t see him. She’s wondering now why they never video call but then again, she’s not a great sight to look at sometimes. Plus, seeing him might make her miss him even more.

“Alright, you should go catch some sleep.”

“Good night, Dean.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

*

Y/N says goodbye to Cuddles when she leaves for work the next day. The cat’s been extra clingy which makes her think that he must know. Must know that their little adventure will be in their past. Dean’s coming home tonight so there’s no need for her to stay. Not like she has packed enough clothes anyway. 

Ellen called to say that she has to start earlier and that’s fine with her. It means that she can go home almost three hours earlier than usual. She’ll have more time to sleep for once. 

Halfway through her shift, Dean sent a message and she only saw it because she needed a hair tie from her bag. 

D: Would it be too much to ask if you’d stay another night?

She bites down on her bottom lip while reading the message then types back, hopes for enough signal to send it out.

Y/N: Won’t you be home?

She waits for the reply that took forever to come. It came after an hour and she doesn’t know if it’s Dean who’s busy or the signal at the Roadhouse.

D: I am but I don’t know how long it’ll take. Need to help sort things out in this facility.

Y/N: Okay will go home first because I need new clothes.

D: You don’t need clothes.

She can literally imagine him grinning because he thinks he’s so funny.

Y/N: Stop it. I have to work now.

D: Come on! I’m hilarious!

She rolls her eyes and slips her phone back into her bag before she proceeds to take the next order. She can see Gabriel in the periphery of her eyes, sees him reading a text and then he nods. That’s probably Dean texting him what happens after work tonight.

“Dean,” Cas comes running towards him when Dena is helping a lab tech with the heavy cylinder. “Can I talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure.” Dean says but he didn’t really want to interrupt the work honestly because he wants to get back home as soon as possible.

Cas makes Dean follow him and walks around the corner. They’re out of anyone’s earshot. 

“Jo escaped.” Cas whispers.

“She what?” It came out way too loud.

“Adam was supposed to be watching but he’s not there anymore, neither is Jo.”

“Fuck, Y/N!” Dean hurries along the corridor of this big lab, “Cas I’m taking the car.”

Dean actually doesn’t wait for Cas to say something. Knows that they only took one car to come here but Cas’ a big boy, he’ll find a fucking way back.

He tries calling her but she wouldn’t pick up. He has approximately four hours to reach her. It also takes four hours for her to finish her shift.

Gabe doesn’t pick up his phone either. Dean knows that the signal at the Roadhouse is questionable at best, but why does it have to be now? He debates calling the landline but what if Ellen picks up? She doesn’t even know that her daughter is a fucking traitor.

“You don’t really have to come up, you know?” Y/N tells Gabriel as he walks with her to the entrance of her building.

“I’m just really following orders.”

“So, what? If he tells you to jump you would?” She says in a playful tone.

“Yeah.” 

Wow.

“How long have you known Dean?” She can’t help but ask.

“Since Afghanistan.” 

She stops in her tracks. “You two were stationed together?”

“Yeah. He saved my life.”

“And then you come back and work for him? Even though he’s doing illegal things?”

“He’s a good man. He was just born into the wrong family. His intentions are good and he wants to get out, leave it all behind. That’s why I stay and help him.”

“Get out? Out of where?”

“Did he not tell you?”

Uh oh…

“No.”

“Shit,” Gabriel curses. “Don’t tell him I told you. You should ask him. I just shut up from now on.”

They walk together side by side in silence. There’s so many things going on in her head. Too many things that she still wants to know, wants to ask Gabriel but she knows for certain that he won’t talk again. 

They walk up the stairs and she stops mid climb. 

“What is it?” Gabriel asks because he bumps into her.

Her heart races. “The door is open.”

“Did you leave it open?”

“Duh, would I leave it open that wide?”

Gabriel peeks from behind her, then hastily steps in front of her, drawing a gun from his holster. “Behind me.” He whispers and they climb the two remaining steps in silence.

He goes in, gun drawn, securing each room before he tells her to come in. 

The apartment is a mess, drawers have been pulled out, every furniture turned over. 

The silence is almost unbearable as they walk through her trashed apartment. She’s in shock, broken glass crushes under their feet. 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

Just when she’s about to get into her room to see if her safe is still there, she hears footsteps.

“Y/N!” 

That’s Dean’s voice.

How did he get here?

He runs in, gun drawn, his shirt’s loose around his belt, not tucked in nearly as she’s used to. The tie long gone, sleeves folded up his forearm.

“Oh, thank god!” Dean breathes out when he sees her, runs forward and pulls her to his chest.

They stand there in silence for a second, she can feel Dean’s heartbeat. It’s ridiculously fast.

It’s then that they hear footsteps coming up the stairs. It could be her neighbors but it also could not, so they stay still.

“Oh, hello boys and one stupid girl,” Jo chirps. She has a gun too, which she points in their direction. Jo calls back to someone who’s coming up the stairs. “Told you after we get some food they’d all be here!”

Adam shows up a second later, of course he has a gun too. 

Y/N’s the only one who doesn’t have a gun and she feels awfully left out. But running into her room to retrieve the gun out of her safe seems like a bad move right now.

“What do you want, Jo?” Dean growls, and he moves to stand before Y/N. 

“You know what I want, Dean.” Jo snarls. “Protect yourself, let me bring her to Lucifer.”

“And you, Adam, really?” Dean asks as he ignores Jo’s demand. He heard her fine, he’s just not gonna turn Y/N over.

Adam just shrugs. “You never trusted me, Dean. Never thought I was good enough to be in your inner circle. Didn’t even fucking know the bunker existed until Inias appointed me to watch Jo while you were away.”

“You’re the other rat. I should have known. Why do you think I never trusted you?”

Jo laughs, “You two done?” 

Y/N can see Dean exchanging looks with Gabriel. It’s like they have a silent understanding. She knows about things like this. They probably did it a lot while they served together in Afghanistan. It’s a way for them to signal to the other they're going in for the kill. It’s clear to them who is going to take out who, even though Jo and Adam have no idea about it. They are most likely not coming from a military background.

“I go.” Y/N says, as a way of distraction, to give Dean and Gabriel time to think about their next move.

Y/N steps forward even though Dean makes himself a little broader, not wanting to let her in front but she knows she’s not the target. Jo would have more to lose when she kills Y/N. Obviously, for whatever reason, Lucifer wants her alive. 

“Not on my watch.” Dean says, and there’s the sound of gunfire, he aims for Jo’s right shoulder. The impact sends the blonde woman flying back and her gun slips out of her grip. There’s a sound that Jo lets out that hurts Y/N’s ears.

As soon as Jo was catapulted back, Gabriel went in for the kill, shooting Adam square in the face before Adam could even pull the trigger.

Dean steps over to Jo who was writhing on the floor.

He squats down, looking the woman in the eye. Jo’s trying to say something, her lips are moving but no sound comes out.

“You know, you were right about one thing. The thing we talked about when I saw you last. I give you credit for that. I can accept that it’s who I am and I’m willing to go all in for what I love. But do you also remember what I said to you? If you pull that shit again, I will have no problem putting a bullet through your fucking head, Jo.”

Dean gets up again and turns to Y/N.

“Can do you something for me, sweetheart?” 

“What do you want me to do?” She asks, her eyes are still fixed on Jo. She doesn’t know what she should feel about the woman on the floor. Is confused as fuck. Hates that it has to happen and thinks it’s all her fault.

Dean sees her state of distress, and walks over, lowers himself down a little, and pushes his finger under her chin, tilts her head up like he always does when he wants her to look at him. “Hey, hey, look at me, okay? You’re okay. I got you.”

She nods, didn’t even know that she’s crying until a tear runs down her cheek. 

“I want you to know that I’m gonna do something which is not pretty, alright? That’s not really me. You’re now basically the only one who knows who I really am. I’m just trying to do the right thing here, and right now, the right thing is protecting you, alright?”

She nods again. There are no words coming out even if she would try. She wants to tell him though, wants to tell him that it’s not because he’ll kill Jo, not because she’s never seen someone die in front of her eyes before. It’s because he’s doing everything to protect her. Her of all people! And she doesn’t deserve it. Not when she’s betraying him in the worst fucking way possible.

Gabriel is talking on the phone in the back. He has taken Jo’s gun away so Jo wouldn’t be able to try something funny.

Dean kisses her, and she kisses him back with tears running down her face. Pours all the things she wants to say but can’t into the kiss, I’m sorry I’m sorry I should have never made you fall in love with me.

He parts then, kisses her forehead. “Close your ears and your eyes, baby.” He whispers, and walks back to Jo.

She nods and closes her eyes and ears, even turns around because Dean wants her to. 

The shot is still loud. It makes her whole body jump and then she drops to the floor, cries some more. 

Dean picks her up from the floor and carries her into her bedroom. Sits on her bed, drops her into his lap and let’s her cry into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” He says, stroking her head. 

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about.” She mumbles, he can feel that his neck is wet and her tears run down his collar. 

“I made you cry.” 

“You didn’t. I was just overwhelmed.”

“And there I thought I would come home and make you scream but here we are.” He tries to lighten up the situation.

She chuckles a little but it sounds weird because her nose is blocked and it came out more like a grunt.

Outside, someone is talking loudly. It sounds like her neighbor from upstairs and then another voice. Softer. That’s Gabriel.

“What’s Gabriel telling my neighbor?”

Dean brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something about not tampering the crime scene and that they should let the police do their job. Knowing him, he likes to flash his badge, too.”

“A police badge?”

“Yeah.”

“A fake one.” 

It must be. 

“It was his, alright. He used to be a real policeman.”

She doesn’t understand. The crease between her eyebrows grows but Dean is getting restless.

“Come on, pack all the things you need for—” He stops to think, “— for forever maybe. We can come back when it’s cleaned up if you should need more things.”

“Where should I go?” She asks and he looks at her dumbfounded.

“Duh,”

He can see the moment the wires in her head start to connect again. 

“No.”

“Yes.” He grins.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t move into someone’s home after I’ve known him for what? Two weeks?”

“Almost three.” Dean adds, like it matters.

“Dean!”

“You can’t stay here and if you don’t wanna live at mine then let me set you up in an apartment I own.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

He’s getting tired of her doubts. “Jesus, are we really arguing about this?”

“I mean, yeah, I’d move in but do you really want it? Want someone living with you? I’ll be the first one you see when you come home? I’ll be around always since I’ll probably be out of a job?”

He chuckles and brushes the tears away from her face to kiss her. “Baby, that doesn’t make me want to live with you any less. If anything it’s the contrary. Makes me want it even more.”

“You will want your space though, and I’m invading it.”

“I don’t need personal space.”

She looks downwards, her fingers play with the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll get on your nerves.”

“I’m used to the heart attacks you’re giving me since I met you.”

“I’ll annoy you.”

“I’ll annoy you back.”

She sighs. “I love Cuddles, though.”

“He loves you back.”

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” He kisses her wet nose. “Come on, you pack and I help Gabe outside. We can discuss this thing about me being absolutely fucking sure for you to move in when we’re home later.”

CH22

[muddyhippy]

Amazing artwork of Ivy and Lily done by @smolghostings​ who is entirely awesome and melted my heart with all her Lily and the Mechs fanart! 

Night Terrors, Chapter 6 : Pageturner

Chapter on AO3 Here

New chapter! Sorry it’s taken a while everyone but the new chapter featuring Ivy is now up! 

                                                  Pageturner

Lily made her way carefully towards the Library. It was very late but she knew Ivy would still be up. Ivy was always up. Except when they had all slept together on her first night. That had been really nice. Lily hoped they’d have another big sleepy cuddle soon, it was where she felt safest. Even safer than when she was in Jonny’s arms, tucked up against his chest, listening to him tick. Which was very, very safe in her opinion.

 She didn’t want to bother Jonny. Not tonight.  This was something she needed to do herself. She was a big girl after all. She was eight whole years old and she had to know the ending of the story. She’d dreamt about it and it had ended very badly so now she needed to know the truth of it.

 She knocked carefully on the side of the open door, “Ivy? Ivy are you there?”

Lily waited a few moments before trying again, “Ivy?” She called, a little louder.

 “Yes?” A familiar voice answered from somewhere out of sight.

 Relief flooded Lily, “Can I come in please?”

 “Yes.”

 Lily stepped in very carefully looking around for the archivist. “Ivy?”

 The archivist appeared from the depths of one of the stacks, assessing the nervous-looking little girl in one glance, “Given the current ship’s time and the fact that you are here unaccompanied you have had a nightmare and you cannot find Jonny?” Ivy tried to keep the mild annoyance from her voice, nightmare duty was very much Jonny’s territory and she had been in the midst of some long overdue re-stacking.

 Lily sniffed, rubbing her sleeve across her face making her look even younger, her other hand clutching something grey and fuzzy Ivy couldn’t quite make out.  

 “Had a nightmare, didn’t look for Jonny, wanted you.”

 That made Ivy pause, brusque response dying on her lips, there was a 74% likelihood that Ivy would be the 8th choice for comfort, only ahead of Ashes given the quartermaster’s well documented dislike of physical contact.

 “Why?”

 “Had a nightmare about the story I’m reading, dreamt it had a very bad ending. Wanted to make sure it wasn’t true.”

 Ivy considered, Lily’s bright liquid eyes were full of unshed tears and felt herself soften in sympathy. She knew that concern, usually the concern of whether the book was going to have a satisfying ending or not rather than the obvious ‘happy’ one Lily was clearly hoping for but it was the same principle. And it was deeply pleasing to see the child so invested in a book Ivy had provided.

 Ivy found she enjoyed offering choices to the child, the archivist had quickly read all the English language books (Ivy was determined to get her confident in English before fully embarking on a new language since that was what Lily currently spoke and understood and she didn’t want to overwhelm her which too much information. Ivy had had several information overloads over the centuries and it had taken several of her crewmates to help calm her down and console her) deemed suitable for a young audience by the authors in her vast collection and had begun a list that detailed all the books that seemed in keeping with the child’s interests, both the emergant ones and the ones she was now getting comfortable enough to voice. Ivy had pulled out as many English language books she had on geology, with a specificity on minerals and gemstones, Lily’s eyes had lit up at the sight of so many crystals, apparently she didn’t know that they could be so many different colours.  

 The interests she was discovering with the crew was a pleasure to source and support, she was one of the few members of the crew who actively sought knowledge and stories out from the library, with a few notable exceptions in recent months. The other’s reading habits not-withstanding, the archivist had added more and more books to Lily’s shelves (that had needed extra levels installing) covering a range of topics, from tea party traditions, recipes from several worlds, horse riding and non-lethal junior science to guns, galaxies and gobstoppers. Ivy liked being able to use her collection for the benefit of the crew and did so to inform them on upcoming planetary visits if she had something that covered them or hunted down more star charts and galaxy guides for the terminally curious but this was something else.

 Ivy had never had the opportunity to nurture a young mind before, one with no prejudice or preconceptions other than her general sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and that if it was a fictional story she wanted there to be a happy ending. Which honestly was reasonable given how painfully aware Lily was that happy-ever-afters were not a common thing.  

 As it was, Ivy knew the ending of the story Lily was reading, she could just tell her and send her back to bed but it seemed hardly fair to rob her of the experience of discovering it herself. These things, reading a story for the first time was a journey, something to be experienced, sometimes endured but always enjoyed in the end if the writing was compelling enough and made you care enough about the outcome.

 Lily certainly cared enough.

 Lily cared.

 It was her default setting.

 It was something Ivy appreciated even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to engage with it. She and Lily often sat together for at least an hour a day reading, Ivy helping her with new words she didn’t understand and having her say them aloud until she got the hang of how the word felt in her mouth, saying it clearly and in context.

 Ivy was rather proud how much Lily’s vocabulary had increased over the past three and a half months, the archivist hadn’t thought much to teaching, leaving the others to come and go in their reading habits without comment or judgement so long as the books were put back exactly where they belonged and in the same condition when they were done. And if she placed a few specific books on specific easy-to-reach shelves where certain adults would know where to look when they came into the library in the middle of the night looking shaken and sleep-ruffled, well that was neither here or there.

 Ivy enjoyed watching Lily enjoy reading her stories, the child had made her way through an impressive chunk of Ivy’s collection so far and the archivist had been actively seeking more child-appropriate content for Lily on each new planet they visited in order to ensure she never ran out of books for Lily to absorb, it was an excellent new strand to her acquisition quest, after all, she’d never made as diligent an effort to collect children’s stories before, there had been no real point. And if she had developed the practice of reading each book before putting it on to Lily’s shelves well, she was just being a responsible librarian.

 Ivy nodded to the little girl, “Alright then, you know where it is, go and get it and find your answer, I’ll be here if you need me.”

 Lily took a step forward towards Ivy then stopped herself, “Thank you Ivy.”

 Lily scurried to fetch her book and settle on her usual cushion.

 That was odd, Lily was often keen for physical affection, she’d developed a specific sign of affection for Ivy which the archivist appreciated since she struggled to acquiesce easily to the exuberant affection Lily asked for and got from the others but Lily’d never paused like that before.

 The archivist considered, allowing a raft of calculations to wash over her, hmm… there was an 83% chance Lily felt uncomfortable about coming to library past her bedtime since that was something that had seemed pretty sacred to her and the ensuing ritual she and Jonny had developed of Lily saying goodnight to everyone she could see, taking his hand and having him tell her a story until she fell asleep, that, for Lily was the end of one day. Ivy had wondered if the distinction between night and day for Lily was important in accepting when she was ‘safe’ and when she had to be on guard from her nightmares. It was also possible with a 61% likelihood that Lily felt that she should not seek comfort when she was clearly trying to manage her reaction to this particular nightmare on her own especially given the lack of Jonny in tow. It was also highly likely (87%) Lily was keen to show her maturity in the face of a nightmare when faced with someone whom she did not interact with often when in this particularly vulnerable state.

 That seemed like a foolish endeavour since the whole crew knew just how tactile Lily was after a nightmare, most of them had seen her being comforted by Jonny as he sang to her whilst he carried her around the corridors at least once, the child clinging to him like an especially sticky octokitten. More often Ivy knew Lily sought out the first mate in his room and climbed into his bunk to settle back down to sleep but there were a few nights she screeched Hell Fire or even more rarely, she was too miserable to settle which had Jonny crooning gently to her instead as he walked the corridors, the motion of his movement coupled with the sounds of his heart reassuring her that she was not alone.

 It was so deeply incongruent to see this gentle side of Jonny appear seemingly out of nowhere though it was becoming a common sight which was possibly even stranger.

 Even more incongruently, for some reason the child very much liked the ‘Alice’ sequence.

 The others including herself challenged him on it one night after bedtime since it was hardly one of their friendlier stories, but then again, they didn’t really go in for that sort of thing full stop and he argued it was the first thing he thought to sing when she didn’t want the Rose and Cinders story again that night, he didn’t know the Cadence tale well enough and Hereward was Tim’s song.

 And, he argued, he couldn’t very well sing their stories to her since they’d not actually talked to her about their Mechanisms yet. He had grudgingly admitted he’d panicked when he remembered the ending of Alice halfway through the last section and impulsively added a ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ in desperation. Thankfully, she’d just accepted it, possibly because she was just exhausted but for whatever reason, she liked it, especially Hatter and Hare.

 Tim and Brian had been rather pleased about that, both thoroughly enjoying surprising her with that one dinner time as she started to set the table, breaking out into the song, dancing with each other and then with Lily waltzing around the mess table as the Toy Soldier poured tea for everyone utterly thrilled that everyone present wanted a cup. All three of them danced with it in turn as well making its smile somehow even wider.

 Aurora had recorded it all and shown the others after Lily had fizzed with excitement telling the rest of the crew when they came to sit down for dinner. It had been one of the honestly most wholesome things Ivy thought she’d ever witnessed. And she’d seen a lot. Both physically and within the myriad of stories she read.

 Ivy considered, she wondered if she was supposed to go and check on the child since she’d shown up obviously upset after a very specific nightmare but Ivy had no idea what she was supposed to do in comforting Lily. Ivy was not a singer, not like most of her crewmates, her music was enough to share but maybe Lily needed more? It was highly likely (68% in fact) that her statement about not wanting Jonny but in fact Ivy, was actually a cover. Not enough of a cover to mask the fact that despite Lily wanting to be seen as an adult that could solve her own problems she was very much a child still, a child who was vulnerable and upset and needed comforting post-nightmare. Something Ivy felt woefully unprepared to tackle.

 She was already reaching for her communicator when a wobbly voice called out,

 “Ivy?”

 “Yes?”

 Little feet pattered through the stacks and appeared looking even blotchier-faced.

 “Are you alright?” enquired a very unsure Archivist.

 Ivy knew the ending, the ending that was most assuredly happy. It was happy and good and satisfying for young readers and adults if they liked satisfying, comfortable endings. If Lily had read the ending already it should not have provoked this response. Also it was highly unlikely Lily could have reached the ending in the time that had elapsed. There were still seven chapters to go and Lily had an average reading speed of a page every 52 seconds (Something Ivy was very proud of, Lily’s reading speed had increased by 14 seconds since joining them and her confidence in reading aloud had doubled).

 With rising panic her fingers inched back for the communicator

 Lily held up her right hand, fingers splayed.

 Ivy responded immediately, stepping forwards carefully, gently pressing each fingertip to Lily’s.

 Ivy was honestly surprised the child had remembered in her upset.

 It was something she did with Ivy and only Ivy when she came to read but that was always when the little girl was happy and excited.

 Lily had asked her if she could give Ivy a ‘finger hug’ the second time she ever came to visit the library, three days after she joined the crew.

 That had taken the archivist by surprise.

 “A finger hug?” Questioned Ivy. She quickly wracked her memory files to pull up some form of record or reference to such a thing and came up empty.

 “Yes.” Lily held up her little hand fingers and thumb splayed wide, “we touch our fingers together and it means we’re hugging.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you don’t really like hugs and I want to hug you because I think you’re really nice and kind to let me come into the library and read real books even though they’re very special but I don’t want to make you feel bad by hugging you because that’s not nice or kind to do so if you like this instead then I can hug you without making you feel, um, icky.” Lily trailed off in the face of Ivy’s intense gaze.

 Lily’s words, if phrased a little childishly, were deeply heart-felt.

 Ivy felt herself bluescreen.

 She hadn’t said a word to Lily about not being overly comfortably or confident with physical affection, Jonny had prompted Lily to ask for permission to hold her hand but that was it. She filed that away for future reference on how perceptive Lily was. The others should be made aware of this since they liked to think they were subtle.

 Then again, it could be entertaining to watch them get caught out by a tiny observer.

 Thing was, it was an observation that was made and then used to inform a kind action.

 That was not a very common activity on board the Aurora. Or at least, not an activity anyone would ever own up to.

 Ivy felt herself melt a little, it was such a simple consideration but a very welcome one. Even in the three days Lily had been on board, Lily had shown an emotional maturity that was far beyond her years, the child listened and watched the crew carefully, obviously trying to pick up on what was acceptable behaviour and responses.

 Partly this seemed to be a survival instinct, Lily could, after all, be classed as prey amongst a den of predators.

 Ivy had shuddered internally at that comparison, it felt wrong, even though her crewmates were epitome of dangerous they’d all made a concerted effort to be gentle with Lily, maybe more like a cub in a den of predators? That felt oddly more appropriate despite the notion of any of the Mechanisms actually having children of their own was not only a statistical impossibility from a physical perspective but one so far-removed from the general outlooks of them all to be deemed laughable.

 And yet.

 The behaviours exhibited so far by Jonny, Marius, Brian and more surprisingly Raphaella and Ashes (albeit from a distance) seemed to hint if not possessing buried parental instincts at least a sense of affinity and empathy. The others had yet to be truly tested however there was at least a 79% chance Tim would also begin to display elder sibling behaviours if not a full paternal instinct. It was fascinating to see.

 The Toy Soldier was very pleased to have a new friend. Lily had already been seen happily playing with it in the three days she’d been on board, they’d raced past the library door the previous, day, a piping little voice shouting ‘Tig!’ triumphantly, also given how much TS loved the crew it was likely that affection would carry over to Lily as well gifting the child with a friendship that would be unbreakable. Nastya had not been around enough to observe but Ivy suspected the engineer was also harbouring an affinity with the child as well, both of them having survived (relatively speaking in Nastya’s case) the murder of her family and the destruction of all she knew.

 And then there was herself.

 Ivy could and was in the process of reading any and all child-rearing health books she had in her library to help out Raphaella’s research. Ivy had no memories of her own childhood, be they wants, needs or behaviours. She was 89% sure she had her passion for reading and acquiring knowledge from an extremely early age but she had not real framework to apply from her own experiences.

 Ivy tried not to think about all the lost memory data of hers, and normally she could and did avoid it but there had been so much chatter surrounding the subject of reminiscence, almost all of them, even Nastya, had offered tidbits of their own long-unthought of childhood. She and Brian had taken silent solace in one another, both listening politely for a while before quietly leaving for the bridge together to enjoy one another’s companionable peace.

 She focused on learning the facts as she always did. It helped to ground her in the here and now and real knowledge of the universe. She knew the vitamins and minerals required for a human child to grow well, the quantities and the various sources they could be obtained from. Ivy knew to the minute the amount of sleep needed for a child Lily’s age and that routine was apparently good for them. It especially seemed it was important to avoid Lily being allowed to become something called ‘overtired’ when small children apparently turn into some sort of armed grenade and the explosions had a myriad of options of being tearful, rage-filled or both.

 Ivy wasn’t sure how the others would handle a small child that detonated like that. Then again, the first night she was with them was enough of a shock when she burst into hysterical tears over Tim and Marius being shot. That, that had been unexpected in how the others had reacted. There was a 47% chance one of them would shoot her on instinct on sheer noise alone since her cries had sounded like some sort of terrible warning siren, however, when she had appeared wailing on Jonny’s hip that chance had dropped to 7%.

 Ivy had actually been surprised at the fury on the first mate’s face, she hadn’t seen him that angry since Tim had been mechanised and Carmilla had had her ‘accident’ shortly thereafter.

 She had been more surprised initially at the child’s distress at Tim and Marius’ deaths, then had to remind herself that the likelihood of the child having significant trauma responses to witnessing violence were 99.9% coupled with the fact that seeing people die in her experience was a decidedly permanent event. Her ship had certainly been an event.

 Ivy was not anywhere near as happy in conflict and gunfire as her crewmates but she was no shrinking violet, more like a knowing foxglove.  She’d seen and perpetrated her share of horrible murder and destruction but there was something about Lily’s ship, something raw, the murder in her ship was gleeful even beyond Jonny’s most manic rampages. And Lily had been surviving in the aftermath for three full weeks.

 It didn’t sit right with Ivy, it was something she was researching into since Jonny had spoken to them all about Lily’s desire for revenge when she was of age. She would find those who had wreaked havoc through Lily’s people.

 So yes, Lily’s upset was more than a little understandable in hindsight. What had caught Ivy completely off guard had been that the child had sought comfort from all of them, she had assumed Jonny would remain the primary form of comfort eschewing all others with Raphaella taking a distant second place due the science officer wrangling the child into the shower. That too had been unexpected, Ivy would have thought that she was purely motivated by opportunity to make closer observations for her research which was 83% correct but the look on her face when she returned with Lily and Jonny to the mess there had been a softness on her face that had repeated after the incident with Tim and Marius.

 Lily had wanted comfort from them all and everyone, everyone had complied. She had calculated the chances being 3% at the most. But everyone, even Nastya, even herself had, at the very least, held the distraught child.

 Raphaella had handed her the child and she hadn’t known what to do with her but it seemed to be enough, Lily did most of the work. It had been strange having a living, breathing creature in her arms that wasn’t an octokitten, not unpleasant per se but something she was not terribly confident or comfortable with.

 And Lily had realised within three days.

 And presented the ‘fingertip hug’ option.

 An option that Ivy took every time the child came to visit.

 Ivy had begun to enjoy the child’s company over the course of the three and half months she had been with them. She came every day without fail, knocking politely and waiting to be invited inside before offering her usual greeting, finding her book and settling down on what rapidly became ‘her’ cushion. She’d beamed when Ivy gave her a bookmark after the archivist ascertained the child tried to remember the page she’d finished on and didn’t always succeed.

 Every so often she would approach Ivy to ask for help with a word and its meaning. Initially Ivy had resented the interruptions to her own reading but she always answered, the child wanted knowledge after all. After a while she began to appreciate the child’s joy at each explanation, thrilled to be learning something new. Ivy realised Lily wasn’t asking to be a bother unlike the rest of her crewmates most of the time, she was asking because she genuinely wanted to learn and appreciated Ivy taking the time to tell her.

 After three weeks of observed behaviour there was an 84% chance Lily had not had overtly positive experiences with adults outside of her own parents. Nothing particularly negative but the way she responded to anyone taking time to tell her anything or answering a question she asked it was clear this did not happen often nor did she expect them to engage with her as often (read: every time she asked) as they did.

 Ivy resolved to be as encouraging as she could be on Lily’s search for stories and knowledge. She found her books, began to listen to the child read aloud and always helped with new or difficult words.

 Lily never cuddled up to her the way she did Jonny, Brian, Marius, TS or Raphaella or the way she started to after the whole hair brushing incident with Tim. But still. She would bring her pillow near to where Ivy was reading to practice her own literacy skills.

 Right now though she was faced with a very distraught looking Lily doing the fingertip hug clearly about to disintegrate.

 “What’s the matter?”

 “I, I want to read the story but I’m scared I’ll get tears on it by accident, because, because they, they keep escaping and I don’t want to ruin your book but I want to know the answer!”

 At this point Lily did dissolve in tears.

 Ivy realised that there was a 37% chance she’d never been quite as consciously terrified as she was presented with a sobbing little girl.

 “Er, would you like a hug?”

 Lily sobbed and tried to swallow, rubbing a sleeve across her streaming eyes, “Are, are you sure?” she wept out.

 “No, but you’re clearly deeply unhappy and there is an 87% chance a hug will make you feel better and I would like to help make you feel better.”

 Lily gave her the wobbliest smile Ivy had ever seen then carefully approached the archivist, waiting for Ivy’s arms to wrap around her before sinking into the safety of warm, living adult.

 Ivy felt the child melt into her.

 There was an unexpected warmth that bloomed in her chest. There was an 92% likelihood she was experiencing a sense of familial bonding, she quickly compared it to how she felt when working in collaboration with Raphaella on an experiment or sitting with Brian in companionable quiet on the bridge or even taking part in a satisfactory music practice with the whole crew. The feeling was remarkably similar.

 That was, surprising but encouraging all the same.

 She felt like she might not end up being too poor a substitute for the first mate.

 She still wasn’t sure how Jonny managed this so easily though.

 It was a common enough if still strange sight to see Lily limpeted to Jonny, clinging on tightly but he held her as if he’d always been doing that, as if his arms were made to hold her, like Lily was made to fit perfectly into his side. There were many, many, many things Ivy could and did criticise Jonny for but he’d taken to this with an aplomb none of them had anticipated. Even within those first few minutes Ivy could not have predicted Jonny taking hold of the child when she ran at him. Ivy had braced to witness a child die due to long-hone instincts wherein, with a chance of less than 1% Jonny hadn’t shot her, too shocked initially it seemed then some sort of buried sense of paternity reared its head from the depths. It has been fascinating to watch from a distance.

 Now Ivy was experiencing something like that without the presence and dare she admit it, safety of her crewmates to take point on the interaction.

 Ivy had never felt overtly comfortable around anyone since she woke up on Aurora head full of facts yet empty of memories. She found she worried often of not having the ‘right’ reactions due to her positronic brain and so limited the factors that would expose her to those situations. Books were safer, she knew what they expected from and in return there was a comforting predictability in learning.  

 There was very little predictable about Lily.

 Well that wasn’t entirely fair. The child was kind and loving and concerned with making sure everyone felt included in whatever was happening (that spoke volumes about the child’s existing experiences with her own shipmates but that was hardly the point at present). She wanted positive attention and was thrilled to get it, she liked to hug and be physically reassured by the others after a scare or when she was being praised.

 Lily, if you broke her down to her fundamentals, was not too hard to comprehend.

 She wanted to be loved.

 The hard part came in that the Mechanisms did not deal readily in love. None would claim to have any real solid experience, maybe Nastya and Tim but it wasn’t the same sort of familial love. Jonny was not-so-secretly a romantic at heart (though he’d shoot you if you pointed it out) but again it wasn’t the same. They were trying their best but none of them really came from loving families, those that could remember at least.  

 They were running of half-forgotten instincts that all adults of a species apparently carried coded into their beings from the earliest dawn of sentience.

 ‘Protect the young.’

 Ivy, now with a sobbing Lily attached to her, felt what must be that same drive begin to stir.

 A hesitant hand raised to rub carefully up and down Lily’s back.

 Lily cuddled closer.

 Well that must be the right approach.

 Ivy continued to run her hand up and down Lily’s small back as the child cried into the archivist’s neck. After a while the tears began to slow.

 “M’sorry.”

 “What for?”

 “For making you hug me and getting your collar all soggy.”

 Well that wouldn’t do at all. Ivy might not be a fan of overt physical contact but no one made her do anything she didn’t want to.

 She pulled Lily off her enough to face her, the child’s huge blue eyes looking like glowing lagoons, swimming with spilling tears.

 “Now listen to me Lily, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do, not when it comes to something like this. I am comforting you because I want to and you want me to. No one can make you hug or even touch someone if you don’t want to. The other person has to want it too. I am hugging you because you want me to and I want to help you. Understand me?”

 “Y”-she hiccupped-“es.”

 “Good.” Ivy paused, not sure where to go from there. She sent out a desperate burst of data requests trying to grasp any suggestions that might help.

 The image of Lily sitting on Jonny’s lap at the mess table when she first joined them. Lily sat on Brian’s lap on the bridge asking him hundreds of questions about music and stars. Lily perched on Raphaella’s lap frowning in concentration as she practices plaiting her long golden waves. Lily tucked up on Marius’ lap between his violin and bow arm, humming along with the tunes he played. Lily settled on Tim’s lap smiling as the gunner carefully brushed her wild mop of tangles smooth.

 Each time Lily was settled and safe and happy.

 “Would, would you like to sit on my lap and I’ll read the rest of the story to you? That way we won’t risk you getting the book damp.”

 Lily’s face lit up in a blinding smile.

 Clearly that was the right thing to offer.

 “Alright then, let’s go get the book.”

 Ivy took Lily’s hand because that was also clearly the thing to do in this situation, she’d seen Lily hold hands with the others when heading somewhere together and the child had asked to hold her hand the first time she came to the library. That was bound to help comfort her.

 Lily clung to her hand like a lifeline.

 Ivy took in the sight of the neat spot Lily usually occupied, cushions in a tidy pile and her book in its proper place on the shelf.

 Even upset she’d respected the books.

 Ivy felt her chest flood with warmth.

 “Alright then,” she picked up the title in question, settled comfortably in the nest of pillows that had accumulated then gestured to Lily, “come on Liliput, get comfortable.”

 Lily stared at her.

 Ivy stared right back, shocked at the name that had slipped from her so easily.

 “What does that mean?”

 “It’s the name of a town where people live whom Gulliver visits during his travels, they’re very small but kind to him.”

 “Who’s Gulliver?”

 “Lemuel Gulliver is the protagonist of Jonathan Swift’s adventure story ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ he’s an explorer who sails across the Oceans of Earth—”

 “That’s Tim’s home planet isn’t it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Did Tim meet him?”

 Ivy smiled at the question. “No, Gulliver wasn’t a real person, his story is also set roughly 500 years before Tim’s time.”

 Lily considered, Ivy could see the numbers totting up in the child’s mind.

 “That’s a lot.” she offered finally.

 “Yes it is.”

 “So he was a made up adventurer?”

 “And explorer. He sailed to different islands to meet different civilisations.”

 “Ooh. Did he not have a spaceship?”

 “No this story was set before spaceships had been invented.”

 “Oh. A VERY long, long ago then?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can I read it next?”

 “Yes, I can find you a copy.”

 Lily sniffed. “Thank you, you’re the best.” Declared Lily earnestly.

 Ivy smiled again, honestly touched by the sincerity.

 “Thank you. Now do you want to sit down and finish this story?”

 “Yes please!”

 Lily needed no more encouragement, she settled into Ivy’s lap as though she’d always been there, leaning against Ivy’s chest letting out a satisfied sigh. Ivy smelled of paper, of warm leather and the comfort of stories to be told. It was rare she got this close to Ivy, Lily savoured it as much as she could, it was very different to the rest of them, to Jonny or Marius or Raphaella but it was just as nice, just as a part of her sense of safety as every other scent of them was.

 Paper, wood, resin, wild flowers, leather, cordite, oil, wool, resin, tea, smoke, spice and whiskey

 It was home.

 Ivy’s breath caught, she wasn’t sure how she expected it to feel having Lily in her lap, uncomfortable? Awkward? Something that she’d have to endure?

 What she wasn’t expecting was a strange sense of satisfaction. There was a warmth that took root in her, the impression that what she was doing was good and right and helping.

 Ivy decided to calculate the average improvements Lily had made to the crew’s individual well beings later when she could consider all the data she’d observed and listened to. Right now though, she had a story to read.

 Ivy read out the voices of the characters as she heard them in her own head when she’d read the story the first time herself much to Lily’s apparent delight. Encouraged she continued adding the dramatic emphasis drawing thrilled but ever-sleepier responses from Lily until the child fell asleep three chapters from the end.

 Ivy smiled with the contentment of a job well done. She had done it. Lily had come to her wanting help and she’d been able to provide that well enough that the child had gone back to sleep, happy and obviously feeling secure.

Children tended to only sleep on people they trusted. She’d read it in one of the few human child rearing books she’d found.

 The archivist was deeply proud of herself.

 And now Lily was asleep she could take a closer look at the fluffy thing that the little girl was clutching as she listened.

 An emerald or copper oxidised geode of some kind rendered in a fluffy fabric with embroidered eyes.

 Ivy felt another smile slowly bloom across her face as she realised what it was.

 Jonny.

 So that was what he’d been up to.

 She’d caught him trying to sneak out of the library a few times two months, three weeks and five, four and two days ago, only refraining from blowing his head off because of the likelihood if she did it would be a night Lily needed comforting and she did not want to have to deal with the emotional fallout that mess would wrought.

 She’d let him go once he proved he wasn’t trying to smuggle books out with him and upon investigation of her shelves the books he’d been looking at (not quite put back exactly where they belonged but he’d apparently tried) focused minerals and geology, she’d wondered want on earth he’d been up to since seeking knowledge, or reading in general was not his go-to activity.

 This was apparently it.

 Making an accurate depiction of a geode to render in fluff as a comfort toy for an orphaned little girl. Ivy knew Lily was interested in stones, she’d brought back half the lakeshore from their first planet visit. Several of them kept appearing around Aurora with googly or painted on eyes and smiley faces. One of the smaller, lighter, flatter ones had found their way into Brian’s hat band for a while.

 But this? Taking an active interest and trying to make something accordingly? Jonny was apparently full of surprises. It was a side of him Ivy had suspected existed based on her centuries of observation but it was something he guarded fiercely as though having a soft side was some sort of shameful secret. Same went for the rest of the crew. Though, yet again, the rest of the crew also made a point not to be known for their abundance of gentleness or thoughtfulness. Except Brian and TS, (and Marius but 50% of the time he was trying to get a rise of people as well).

 Until recently.

 Until Lily.

 Whose presence apparently was tacit permission to be kinder, not just with her because that was expected, she was a child, an innocent child they’d ended up responsible for and whilst they didn’t really know what they were doing they weren’t actual monsters in this regard, they had at a passing acquaintance with decency sometimes so they were trying to look after her as ‘properly’ as they could.

 And they all did look out for each other too, always undercover of insult or secrecy-no one would ever admit to doing something nice after all but now? Well, their behaviour around Lily was clearly affecting their day-to-day interactions. Murder had been reduced to a minimum especially during ‘daylight’ hours and they’d found other, more constructive ways to harness their energies, non-lethal pranks were happening far more regularly and were being met with amused annoyance rather than murderous rage. Not to mention they’d managed to put the Verdant Hood story cycle together in record time, she was rather looking forward to performing that one. It was amazing how much more practice you could manage when you didn’t have to wait for your lead singer to regrow his bullet-punctured lungs or your string/percussion/piano players to re-grow shot-off fingers.

 Ivy reflected on the status of the crew; there was a contentment that was slowly becoming apparent that had been lacking for several centuries, it was unexpected but pleasant all the same. She was going to enjoy analysing her calculations and collecting more data from the regular interactions she’d been taking part in. Breakfast and Dinner especially as sit down meals weren’t uncommon before Lily but they were now a daily occurrence, Ivy tried to remember to attend at least one meal per day, her crewmates could be intolerably loud a lot of the time but it was pleasant to talk to them sometimes.

 And she enjoyed the growing sense of camaraderie rather than simple tolerance.

 Thinking of.

 She should probably contact Jonny.

 Lily, whilst the weight of her on Ivy’s lap was comforting in a way the archivist had not been expecting it was not fair to allow the child to sleep in this position all night. The books on child growth encouraged lots of sleep but she doubted they meant in laps of immortal space pirates.

 That hadn’t stopped Lily in the slightest but it still wasn’t good for her.

 Ivy typed a message on her communicator, not wanting to risk waking the child.

 ‘Jonny, Lily is in the library with me. Please come and collect.-Ivy’

 There wasn’t much else she could do but wait, idly glancing back through her data files to check her inventory of books suitable for Lily and adding the note that she wanted to read Gulliver’s Travellers next. She wondered if Tim had read the book as a boy since he’d started availing himself of her collection several months ago upon learning she had some of his childhood favourites.

 Twenty-nine minutes later a sleep-drunk, bleary-eyed Jonny came stumbling into the library.

 Ivy had to force herself not to startle.

 She’d never seen him look so thoroughly, relaxedly, rumpled.

 She’d seen him drunk to incoherence and passing out mid-sentence. She’d seen him sleep-deprived, strung-out furious and exhausted to the point he just shut down and dropped where he stood (usually because he’d been refusing to sleep due to the nightmares he definitely didn’t experience) whenever that happened, rare as it was, Brian usually picked him up and carried him off to dump the first mate into bed.

 (Although, knowing Brian it was more like he tucked him in carefully but neither of them would ever admit it)

 She’d seen him nursing the sire of all hangovers across the multiverse, losing the ability to speak any recognised language of which he, like the rest of them, actually knew several.

 But, she realised with a start, she’d never seen him just honestly sleepy, ‘Woken-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-working-on-about-20%-operating-capacity-I-need-to-do-something-but-I-am-on-autopilot’ sleepy.

 He wasn’t dressed for any kind of engagement either. No gun, nor holster, not even a belt. Make up cleaned off his face wearing just a plain dark t-shirt, fabric greyed and worn with age and black drawstring trousers.

 Pyjamas.

 Jonny D’Ville was wearing honest-to-goodness to pyjamas.

 He made his way over to Lily’s corner apparently instinctively, nodded at Ivy with a grateful half-smile, his face, already unguarded softened even more when he took in the sight of Lily, curled up against Ivy, one hand holding on to her waistcoat the other clinging to Gemini who was smushed up against her own chest.

 Ivy found herself not daring to breathe whilst she watched to retrieval take place.

 He scooped up the sleeping child with a practiced ease, Lily immediately settling against him like she lived there, barely even stirring.

 Jonny’s hand lingered on Ivy’s a moment, squeezing it gently, “’anks f’lookin’after her.” before wrapping his arms more securely around Lily, taking his leave back towards his bunk.

 Ivy’s stare followed the two of them long after they’d left her Library.

 Well.

 That. That was one of the most unexpected sights she had witnessed on board.

She’d never witnessed Jonny appear so utterly vulnerable, without his usual brashness, his loud swaggering and even louder gunshots Jonny was- Jonny was young realised Ivy, probably younger than her when he was mechanised. She did some swift calculations and didn’t like her conclusions.

 Well that made an uncomfortable amount of sense. Trying to seem bigger and badder than everyone else was probably a learned trait now she thought about it, forever twenty? That’s quite difficult to make people listen to you off the bat, even if you’ve got centuries or millennia under your many belts.

 That Jonny was actually comfortable enough to appear like that offered two explanations, one he was starting to actually relax enough around people to allow his softer side more public outings and two, he was just so exhausted by all the nightmare duty he’d been pulling along with having to process actual emotions he was simply spent beyond all care or consideration.

 It was probably a mix of both.

 Ivy allowed herself a pleased smile, partially because she was glad the first mate was clearly getting something positive out of this caretaker role he’d accidentally stepped into three and a half months ago and partially because she had excellent blackmail material to use to get first editions from the next twenty planets they visited.

 She sighed, she was enjoying this mellowing of her crewmates interactions, though not enough to be entirely alienating but just enough to take some of the edges off, it was nice knowing that a request for people to please shut the fuck up for five minutes was less likely to earn you a bullet to the head. There was a rare peace that was becoming a little more common and helped draw her out of the library a little more regularly and that was something she felt she could live with.

 The chances of a child being a uniting factor for group cohesion and to reduce the levels of ship-destructive violence would have been at a 0.001% if you’ve asked Ivy four months ago but now? Whilst she absolutely could not have predicted it she was very glad Jonny had been too shocked to react with violence back on Lily’s ship, the archivist found she quite liked having another bibliophile on board, it might be what it would have been like to have had a younger sibling. Ivy paused, considering. That fit. Having a younger person to encourage and help shape, not a parent, certainly not, but possibly another familial bond?

 Quite possibly.

 92% in fact.

[logical-little-lies]

Soft Kisses in The Kitchen-Little Vlogs (chapter 3)

Tag list: @stimmingsides @smollilsanderssides @novacloudcat @analogical-agere @fairyhuman2000 @aphandgflover@softastarlight @littlesapphygem @softflowerinmyheart @virgietheprincess @babeyalstar @b3an-spr0ut @babeyvoid @lgbtqiaemo @because-were-fam-ily @lonelysoul43

chapter summary: After a few weeks on being friends, the four are comfortable with each other. After a stressful week at work, Roman and Virgil decide to spend their weekend off work at Patton's. Some romance plays out as a certain boy realizes all four of them were beginning to fall for one another.

--

Virgil walked out of the Hot Topic, looking around for his boyfriend and Logan. He found them conversing, walking his way from the bookshop. They fell into a routine, Logan picked them up and dropped them off, somedays Roman did. Either way, Virgil just ended up riding along with whatever car was getting him to and from work. Today though, Roman and Virgil had ridden with Logan, so he was also dropping them off.

"Roman!" Virgil threw himself into Roman's arms, hugging him tightly.

"Hey there, my emo disaster," he chuckled, kissing his forehead. Roman caught Logan glancing at Virgil, seemingly admiring him. "Don't you gotta boyfriend, you Flirty Dork?" he teased.

Logan blushed lightly in sync with Virgil, whose heart exploded at the idea of Logan looking at him in a romantic sense. At this point, their hangouts were full of Roman and Logan flirting, Virgil admiring Logan (and for some reason, he couldn't get Patton out of his head), and Patton cuddling everyone. Unknowingly, all the boys were developing feelings for each other.

"I'm poly," he muttered lightly. Virgil could practically feel Roman's want to break out into a victory dance, but Roman restrained himself from acting that dorky in front of his freckle-faced crush.

"Gay and poly..noted," Roman gave a wink to Logan, but it was so quick that the intelligent and professional man had no idea if it actually happened.

"Hey, gay disaster number 1 and 2, I want to get out of here before I literally die of boredom," Virgil snapped his fingers to get Logan and Roman to stop their very gay flirting. Logan looked towards Virgil, giving him an indecipherable look.

"Emo and sassy...noted," he hummed, and Virgil gasped, going quiet.

"So," Roman stepped off the sidewalk and began leading the other two through the parking lot. "Me and Logan were talking-"

The intelligent man in question corrected him, "Logan and I."

"Irrelevant. We were talking, and were thinking. If you're okay with it, why don't we spend this weekend at Patton's?" Roman rested his hand on Logan's car door handle, waiting for the 'beep' to let him know that it was unlocked.

"I don't have an issue with that. I have this weekend off, we got a new worker, some teenager whose barely old enough to apply for a job. So if it works out, I won't have to work on weekends," Virgil climbed into the back seat, Roman doing a dramatic 'whoop! whoop!'.

Logan and Roman got in, both of them buckling their seat belts. "Seat belt, baby," Roman reminded lightly, and Virgil was quick to listen to his instructions.

"So, we'll head over to your place to get whatever you guys need to sleepover, and then drive to my place," Logan decided. Logan and Roman organized this because Logan had this weekend off too, so for once, they were all free. But honestly, sleepovers even with work the next day were becoming semi-normal. It had been about a month since Virgil met Patton in person, and they had all been hanging out nonstop.

'papa..kinda feel small.'

Virgil was to shy to say it out loud, quietly messaging Patton as Logan drove towards their apartment complex.

'Make sure you let Roman know, grab your little stuff!! We've been irls for a month, and I still haven't seen little you in person!'

Virgil giggled lightly, "What'cha laughing at, Vee?" Roman asked. Virgil shook his head lightly,

"Nothing. M' fine," he tried to keep his voice level, making his absolute best effort to sound big. Roman nodded, but seemed suspicious.

'to shy, don't wanna. I'll stay big!'

Virgil listened to Logan and Roman converse about their job, throwing in some flirty comments here and there. He felt his phone buzz lightly in his lap a few minutes later. They were only a few streets away from their apartment now.

'Now, little one, that isn't a good idea! You haven't been small in a few weeks, and when you have it's only for a little bit. I know your worried you're gonna bother Roman, but I'm sure your dada won't mind!'

Virgil typed out a response, promising he'd tell Roman that he was regressing, but he still didn't say anything right away. "Okay, we'll be back," Virgil was snapped out of his thoughts when Roman opened his door. He realized that they were in the apartment parking lot.

He took Roman's hand, getting out and waving at Logan. Their apartment complex was set up simply, so locating and entering the building was easy. "Pack enough clothes for two nights, two days, and don't forget your hygienic stuff," Roman reminds, unlocking the door and letting Virgil in.  Virgil was quick to pack clothes, and the essentials. He purposely picked out his daytime clothes to be more childlike, hoping Roman would notice. His boyfriend, however, only glanced and ignored it.

Virgil sighed as Roman zipped up his bag, seemingly being able to pack his electronics, clothing, and everything else into one bookbag. "What's wrong, baby?" he looked at Virgil, shouldering his bag and coming closer. Virgil only whined in response, so Roman hugged him. "Don't think I didn't notice you were little, Vee. I was hoping you'd be able to say something and speak up for yourself, but you're anxious, I understand."

Virgil nodded, sniffling slightly. "None of that, there's no reason to cry," Roman assured wiping the tears of his face before reaching to Virgil's side of the bed, handing him his stuffed kitten. "Let's get some little stuff together, hmm?"

Virgil cheered up quickly, rummaging around the apartment and figuring out what little gear he'd need. One sippy cup, a stuffie, a pacifier, and a coloring book later, they had prepared for the sleepover. Virgil was speaking openly in his little voice before the exited the apartment, but when they got back in the car with Logan, he tried to talk big, hiding his face in his stuffie.

"Sorry we took so long, we had to grab little gear for the baby emo back there."

Virgil whined at his teasing, biting at his lip. His pacifier was in his bag, which Roman had set in his lap in the front. Logan played soft music through the aux cord into the radio as they drove, and it was only minutes before the little in the back seat fell asleep. "He takes naps very randomly when he regresses, sometimes in weird spots," Roman lightly chided.

Logan nodded, "Patton is so energetic, but it's adorable. He's never bratty, but when he is, it's because he's full of energy and forgets what rules even are," he chuckled to himself. "What are Virgil's rules?"

"Well, Patton and I have some random stuff. Like, bedtime by ten pm but that's always changing because of other things, listen to your carers, stuff like that. We've never, like, written them out though."

Logan made a turn, "You've never had a whole day where Virgil could be little, have you? He's never regressed long enough to break a rule, has he?"

Roman shook his head, "Virgil works all week. That's why I'm hoping this new worker stays and Virgil gets weekends off."

Logan and Roman continued talking, about work, about their littles, about the upcoming weekend. It wasn't long before they were in front of Patton's house, the the pastel-purple-haired boy in question was quick to run outside. Roman and Logan took the bags inside, while Patton woke Virgil.

"Hey, buddy, let's get up and go inside, hmm?" Patton lightly shook him, his eyes flying open. He felt around for his bear, which was nowhere in sight. "Hey, hey, don't panic. Roman took him inside for you," Virgil pouted in response to this. Patton chuckled, helping him out of the car, and taking his hand so that he didn't manage to hurt himself while going up the porch stairs.

Virgil ran to Roman, "Vani! Gimme Vani," he demanded in a toddler-like voice.

"Please, say please," Patton corrected, letting Logan lock the car before he shut the door and locked it behind him.

"Sorry papa! Please?" he tilted his head, and Roman chuckled, handing him the stuffed bear. Virgil found himself biting on the ear on the bear as he climbed onto the couch.

"ah-ah! No biting your stuffies," Logan jumped in, looking at Roman. "What bag has his little stuff?"

Roman zipped open one of Virgil's bags, pulling out the black adult pacifier. Virgil took it in his mouth quickly, pointing to his Nightmare Before Christmas sippy cup, whining lightly. "I know what you want, but I'm gonna need you to verbally ask, Vee." Roman knew he had trouble asking for something when he needed it, it was something he was trying to work with him on.

"Juice, please?"

"Of course, honey!" Patton took the sippy cup, "Grape, right?"

Virgil nodded with a light giggle, Patton disappearing into his kitchen. "So, Patton always films tons on the weekends, he plans all week and then films on the weekend. I don't know if he's still doing that or otherwise."

Logan began talking with Roman, but Virgil wanted Roman's attention. He made grabby-hands, grabbing the attention of his boyfriend and carer. "Cuddles! Cuddles!" he reached for Roman, who obliged and took his spot next to him on the couch.

Logan sat on the other side of Roman. "He's quite cute," Logan mumbled, blushing with wide eyes when he realized he said that out loud.

"It's okay," Roman assured, "Virgil and I are poly..so flirting is free grounds. I don't have an issue with it."

Logan nodded, still blushing lightly. Virgil had confirmed the fact he was poly with Roman, both of the boys admittedly crushed on Logan. And Roman thought Patton was cute in a 'you're-so-precious-I-wanna-protect-you' type of way, while Logan saw Virgil the same way. During all this, old feelings from high school were coming up for Patton, and Virgil was confused as to why he felt his heart speed up around Patton.

"Patton would kill me if he knew I told you, but he thinks you're cute. And he's had a crush on Virgil since forever, he's actually the main reason he realized he was poly. He had feeling for Virgil, but found himself able to like other people."

"They go well together, I will admit. But I don't know if Virgil likes him back or-"

"Look at this little Storm Cloud! He said that you two were talking grown up stuff, and he snuck into our kitchen," Patton came back into the living room, holding hands with the emo boy, who held his disney sippy cup.

"Sorry...Logan and I were talking and got distracted, I didn't even realize he left," Roman sighed, giving Logan a look that said 'this conversation isn't over'.

"I can let Virgil in my little room, he can play with any of my stuff, it'll keep him busy for a while," Patton offered, and Virgil nodded enthusiastically.

"That sounds good, we can make some snacks and then head up there, yeah?" Logan said. Patton nodded, giving him a look before leading Virgil up the stairs.

"So if I've thought about this correctly,then all of us are poly, right?" Logan asked, only a slight hesitancy in his voice as he got up and entered the kitchen. Roman followed him, feeling the weird nervousness in his stomach.

"Uh, yeah. Virgil didn't officially identify until recently when-" his eyes widened and he cut himself off. Logan smirked, opening a cabinet and grabbing a few plates.

"When both of you guys started crushing on me?" Logan gained a sudden burst of confidence, but he didn't face Roman to see his shocked face, he just continued preparing sandwiches and cookies for the two boys upstairs.

"I-uh..who said that?" Roman swallowed, his face quite red.

"The fact that both of you are extremely obvious and gay. Just so you know, you're cute too, Roman."

Roman was blushing, and there were a few moments of silence. "So..theoretically speaking, if all four of us were interested, would you be open to going out?"

"What do you mean?" Roman questioned.

Logan began spreading jelly on a slice of bread, "Like, a date. All four of us, we can go somewhere," he suggested. Roman was squealing inside of his head.

"If the other two are up for it, I'm definitely not against the idea. H-have you spoken to Patton about this?" Roman came close to Logan,leaning against the counter while he cut a sandwich into triangles, setting it on the dinosaur themed plate.

"Yeah, obviously. He likes you, and his old feeling for Virgil are coming back. They're best friends, but he's interested in something more. I think, we all should get to know each other, hmm?"

Roman nodded. "Is Virgil allowed to have chocolate chip cookies?" Logan asked, "I always make sure to give Patton a main thing, and then a cookie if he eats all of it."

Roman just nodded again, watching Logan set two cookies in between the sandwich slices, moving on to grab a bowl to make something for Patton. He settled on ouring a bag of chips for him and Roman, and prepared a similar plate to Virgil for Patton. "When Virgil's big, I'm sure Patton will offer the date-idea. I'm glad you're open to it," Logan smiled, making eye contact with Roman.

It wasn't uncomfortable though, both men smiled at each other. Roman felt something going off in his head, telling him this was wrong. That he was cheating on Vee somehow, but he had made sure to make it clear to Virgil that he was interested in Logan. They agreed that if there were any moves pulled, or they got the chance to do something, then they should go for it. Roman had full permission to do what he thought Logan was gonna do first.

"Patton's okay with this, right?" Roman mumbled, realizing their faces were closer now. When did they lean in?

Logan nodded, "Virgil, too?"

Roman nodded. And then they kissed. It was quick, sweet, and soft. It made both boys smile widely when they pulled away. Logan was the first to break eye contact, making a light coughing sound before handing Roman the bowl of chips. "We can do more of that on that date I mentioned," he said, causing Roman to blush lightly at the thought as he picked up the two plates.

Logan and Roman made a silent agreement to pretend the kiss didn't happen until Virgil was big and they could all talk about it.

But internally, both men were looking forward to the theoretical date. And not just for each other, Roman might've been originally attracted to Logan, but he found himself slowly crushing on Patton. Even when big, he was quite adorable, and Roman wanted to do nothing less than pull the precious boy into a hug and kiss him softly. And Logan? Logan wanted to hold Virgil close and whisper his worries away.

These idiots were all slowly falling for each other. Only time would tell how they would finally get together.

A/N: THE KISS WASN’T PLANNED OOPS, it just popped in my head and all I remember was ten minutes of keyboard clicking and suddenly I had written the gayest scene ever. I’m trying my best to not only focus on the agere aspect, but also the romance, these first chapters will continue to be romance-based until they all get together officially. after that, more agere stuff will ensue. Until then, enjoy they four disasters quickly falling for each other. also this is about 2500 words

Tag list: @stimmingsides @smollilsanderssides @novacloudcat @analogical-agere @fairyhuman2000 @aphandgflover@softastarlight @littlesapphygem @softflowerinmyheart @virgietheprincess @babeyalstar @b3an-spr0ut @babeyvoid @lgbtqiaemo @because-were-fam-ily @lonelysoul43

I’m still figuring out this taglist stuff, so if you want added then lmk (ask, messages). I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

Anon Request: Dad!Bangtan, kids are obsessed with BT21 characters

Tags: Dad!Bangtan, BTS, BTS Drabble, Anon request, Anon ask, my asks, my requests, Bangtan, Bangtan Boys, Dad au, Husband au, BT21, kim seokjin x you, min yoongi x you, jung hoseok x you, kim namjoon x you, park jimin x you, kim taehyung x you, jeon jungkook x you

Genre: Fluff

Title: BT21 or Bust

KIM SEOKJIN

“Daddy!” You looked up, pausing in reading the bedtime story, as your daughter yelled out excitedly at the sight of her father walking into the bedroom. 

Jin had obviously just gotten back, his black mask still looped over his ears, draped beneath his chin, his clothes rumpled and worn from being on the plane for so long, his suitcase still in his hand. Dropping the bag at his feet, he offered you a tired smile, before crossing the room to your daughter, who was bouncing excitedly on her knees in the bed, hands outstretched toward him. 

He kissed the top of her head, and even though his tone was fatigued, he hid it well for his daughter, his voice just as normal, excited to see her as he exclaimed, “There’s my girl. How are you, princess?” 

Scooping your daughter into his arms, Jin nuzzled his nose into her neck, making her giggle as she squirmed to get away from the tickles, peppering kisses all over her cheeks and nose and face as she asked in excitement, “Daddy, daddy! You’re back! Did you bring me a present?!” 

You rolled your eyes slightly, and he grinned at you over the top of her dark head of hair, as you shook your head slightly at him and returned the gesture. He was putty in her hands. Of course he had brought her a present from his trip. 

“Of course I did, princess.” He said, settling her back down onto the bed, and as she scurried to dive back under her covers, he pointed at her, sternly saying, “But cover your eyes. And hold out your hands. No peaking!” 

When she had done as he said, giggling slightly behind her fingers that were clenched haphazardly over her eyes, he crossed the room back to his suitcase and pulled out something, holding it behind his back as he came back over to your daughter, breath held in anticipation, as she held out her hands. 

“Okay. Ready?” Jin asked, a slight smile crossing his full lips, as your daughter nodded enthusiastically. Reaching out, he placed the present in her hands, and as soon as it touched her fingers, she squealed, opening her eyes. 

“Daddy! AN RJ! How did you know he’s my favorite??” Your daughter hugged the large stuffed alpaca to her chest and pressed kisses all over his furry head, as Jin glanced over at you, shooting you a slight grin and wink. 

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.” He said, his tone filled with amusement, as he looked at first the RJ bedding covering his daughter’s bed, and then to the posters and knick knacks on every other empty surface of the room, all representing a certain alpaca. 

Standing, you stretched, leaning over to give your daughter a kiss on the head as you said warningly, “Now, promise me, no playing with RJ tonight. Just go to sleep and you can play tomorrow, okay?” 

Nodding, you followed Jin out of the room, shutting the door softly behind you. Turning to face him, he rubbed a hand across his face, the tiredness coming back across his face as you put your arms around his neck and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, as you said softly, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” He smiled down at you, leaning down to kiss you again, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the contact. 

“Did you bring me something too?” You asked cheekily, grinning up at him. 

“What? Why?” He asked, slightly offended, as he teased you. “You live with the actual human representation of RJ. You have me. Kim Seokjin. The man himself. What else could you possibly need?!” 

You laughed, and pulled him toward the bedroom, glad he was finally back home. 

MIN YOONGI

Your husband came into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch, slouching into the thick cushions with a long sigh and a groan, as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. 

You glanced over at him from where you were playing with your toddler daughter on the floor, and smiled to yourself. He was so cute when he was tired. “Long day, baby?” 

“Ugh. The longest.” He rolled his head to look at you, cracking his eyes open beneath his damp, newly showered hair, as he frowned slightly, his full lips pulling down, and whined out, “Hoseok had us practicing that new routine nonstop. He’s like a drill sergeant when he gets going. He never stops.” 

Leaning forward, you kissed your daughter’s soft forehead, inhaling her scent for a moment, as she looked up at you, a smile so much like her father’s gracing her miniature features. Reaching for the remote, you turned the TV on, changing the channel until you found the cartoons, and pushed yourself up from the floor, crossing the room to sit beside Yoongi’s prostrate form lounging on the couch. 

“Sorry, baby.” You sympathized, pushing his wet hair back off his forehead, as his dark eyes flickered over to you. You smiled at him, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead, just like you had done moments before with your daughter. 

“Ugh.” He groaned again, and you looked up to see him looking at the cartoon that was playing on the TV, as he said in disgust, “Baby. Why do you let her watch this? Its embarrassing.” 

You watched the BT21 characters dance across the screen, complete with jaunty music, and then grinned at him, reaching out to stroke your fingers down the side of his face as you teased, “Ah, come on, baby. It’s cute. And she likes it. Look.” 

You both looked over at your daughter, who was dancing along with the characters on the TV screen. 

Sighing heavily, Yoongi pushed himself up from the couch and crossed the room to her, sitting down beside her cross legged. You leaned back on the couch, watching as he pulled his daughter into his lap, and as she laughed at her father, he looked down at her, affection clear in his eyes as he pointed at the TV screen and then asked her, “Which one is your favorite, mini? Hmmm? Which character?” 

You grinned to yourself, as she looked between her father and the TV screen several times, and although her father looked relatively relaxed waiting for her answer, you knew he was tense, hoping she would pick the character that he had designed. 

Finally, your daughter pointed a chubby finger at the TV and yelled out, grinning, her tiny teeth on display, “Cooky!” 

The pink rabbit, who was indeed on the screen at that point, made her giggle, and you saw Yoongi glance over his shoulder at you, slight displeasure on his face. You shrugged, and he turned back to the program, guiding his daughter’s finger toward the other character as he said innocently, “Oh, I think you mean Shooky, mini. Don’t you like Shooky?” 

You stifled a laugh behind your hand, when your daughter, shaking her head, stood up and pressed a hand against the TV, right over the pink, slightly tough looking bunny, and once again called out, “Cooky!” 

Giving up, Yoongi retreated back to the couch and, burying his face in your chest in defeat, his arms going around your waist, grumbled out, “Betrayed by my own kid. Remind me to kill Jungkook next time I see him.” 

“Okay.” You laughed out, a hand going up to stroke through his still damp locks, as he cuddled against you further, and your daughter continued to dance happily to the BT21 characters in the background. 

JUNG HOSEOK

“Okay.” You sat down next to the twins on the floor, using your husband’s legs as a back rest as you leaned against his shins, reaching for the box next to you as you said, “Wanna see what mommy bought?” 

The boys, practically humming with excitement, nodded enthusiastically at you, and you smiled at them fondly, as you made a show of pulling the large box out of the bag, turning it around so they could see what was inside. 

“BT21!” One of your sons screamed, grabbing for the box, as the other twin tried to wrestle it from his hands. There was a brief scuffle, and then they figured out how to open it, dumping the group of toys into the floor at their feet in a jumbled pile. 

“Whoa, whoa. Take it easy. Don’t break them right out of the box.” You cautioned, holding out a hand to stop the boys from ripping into the figures immediately. 

“I’ll admit, those are pretty cool. I hadn’t seen the new stuff.” Hobi leaned forward, his arms going around your neck, as he rested his chin on the top of your head, looking down at the characters on the floor. 

“Okay.” You pointed to one of the twins. “You go first. Pick one. And then we can talk about it.” 

Your son reached forward, his brother waiting impatiently for his turn, and picked out a figure, holding it up for you and Hobi to see. You felt Hobi grin his customary smile, his lips moving lightly against your hair, and then he asked, “You know this one! Who is it?” 

“Koya!” The twin called out excitedly, holding the koala figurine aloft proudly.  “He’s a koala. And he’s Uncle Namjoon’s friend!” 

“Good.”  You clapped your hands, letting your other son pick next. 

He held up the smaller figure of Shooky, and looked at the cookie for a moment, biting his lip, his features so much like his father’s, before he said, “This is Shooky. He’s a cookie. And he’s Uncle Yoongi’s cookie.” 

“What about this one?” Your other son couldn’t wait for his brother to be finished, holding up the action figure designed by his father, waving it excitedly in the air as he jumped to his feet. 

You laughed, reaching up to cover one of Hobi’s hands with your own, as you said, a twinkle in your eye, “Oh. That’s a special one. It’s also mommy’s favorite!” 

Hobi squeezed the arms that still lay around your shoulders in a gesture of hidden affection at your words, pressing a kiss to your temple, before he motioned to your son. He handed his father the figurine, and he twirled it around in his fingers, before he gave it back, saying calmly, but excitement bubbling behind his words, “Okay. Who’s that?” 

“Mang.” Your son didn’t even hesitate, looking down at the horse figurine held in his small hand. “He’s a horse. And he’s daddy’s friend!” 

“That’s right!” You clapped your hands again, laughing as you tilted your head back to look up at Hobi, who was grinning at his son proudly from over your head. 

“But.” Your son spoke up again, looking up at the two of your quizzically, as he continued to palm the figure of Mang. “Why is daddy’s character a horse? Is it because Uncle Tae says he looks like one?” 

Your mouth dropped open, and you reached up, stifling a laugh behind your hand as you heard Hobi huff in irritation and throw himself back against the couch behind you, as your son obliviously went back to playing with the other figurines on the floor with his brother. 

“Baby.” You laughed, trying to control your amusement as you crawled up on the couch next to him, trying to get him to look at you, his arms folded crossly across his chest. “He didn’t mean it.” 

“I know, I know.” He grumbled out, finally looking at you, his mouth drawn down in a dramatic frown, that spoke to the fact that he wasn’t actually upset, just being dramatic. “But my own son. Aiii. It’s too much.” 

You laughed, now that you realized he wasn’t being serious and wasn’t actually hurt, and leaning forward to kiss him, said seriously, “Well. You know I think you’re hot. And about Taehyung.” You shot him a wicked grin, running a finger across his lips as you did so, lowering your voice slightly so the boys wouldn’t hear. “He doesn’t have sex with you on a daily basis, so his opinion is moot, and mine is law in this situation.” 

He laughed his eyes growing bright again, and pulled you down on the couch beside him, kissing your head as he said softly, “You are so right. Thanks for the perspective, baby.” 

KIM NAMJOON

You heard a horrified shriek echo down the hallway, and then the sound of your daughters screaming at one another. Sighing heavily, you paused in folding laundry and pushed yourself up from the living room floor, making your way down the long hallway and to their shared bedroom at the end of it. 

“Girls!” You yelled out over the din of their shrieking, standing in the doorway, hands on your hips, as you surveyed the fighting sisters. “Stop that this instant!” 

“But mom!” Your older daughter yelled, still tugging at the doll held tightly in her younger sister’s unyielding hands. “She’s not allowed to play with the Koya doll! She’s going to ruin it!” 

“Will not!” Your younger daughter yelled back at her sister, pulling the doll from her grasp once again, before sticking her tongue out at the other girl. 

“That’s enough. I’ve had it with this argument.” You waved your hands at them, stomping into the room, finally out of patience. This fight had been going on all day, and you were done with it. “Give me the doll.” 

You held out your hand toward your younger daughter, who with one last glare at her sister, put the BT21 action figure into your outstretched hand. Closing your fingers around the koala, you sighed, and pushed some hair back off your forehead, looking between the two girls sternly as you said seriously, “Now, you can have this back when you can learn to play nicely. Until then, play with the other dolls. And share. Or else those will be taken away too.” 

Sighing, the sisters still slightly bristled at each other, the eldest nodded and then huffed out, “Okay, fine, mom.” 

You left the room, the Koya doll still held in your hand, and upon reaching the kitchen, sighed once again, before placing the coveted action figure on top of the fridge where neither daughter could reach it. 

Pulling out your phone, you listened for a moment, and satisfied that things were back to normal and they were playing happily again, you started to type out a quick text to your husband, who was still at the studio for the day. 

“That damn koala of yours started another fight between the girls today. Please bring home another one before I lose my mind. I might actually have to call 119 if this keeps up.” 

A rueful grin slipped across your lips at the words, and as you pressed send, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and returned to folding the laundry, the sounds of the now content girls echoing down the hallway. 

PARK JIMIN

“Jagi.” 

You looked up from the book you were reading, sitting cross legged on the couch, at your husband’s call. 

He was sitting on the floor, leaning over the baby, who was cooing and happily kicking on her back, lying on a blanket on the floor, as she waved her chubby fists at her father. He grinned down at her, seeming to have forgotten for a moment that he had called to you, and then glanced over, saying, “How much do you think babies actually understand?” 

You shrugged slightly, and then said back nonchalantly, “I dunno, babe. Why?” 

“Because with our genes, our daughter’s gotta be smarter than the average baby.” Jimin gushed, reaching out and letting your infant daughter cling to his finger as she babbled up at him. He smirked at you, and you laughed, as he said seriously, “But no. Seriously. Watch this.” 

Setting your book aside, you watched as he reached behind him, pulling out one of the stuffed BT21 characters from behind his back, and holding it, dangling, in front of the wide eyes of the baby. She squealed happily and kicked her legs, reaching up for the toy, but he kept it slightly out of her grasp as he looked over at you and said, “Okay. Now watch.” 

You nodded, telling him that you were still watching his ridiculous demonstration, your lips pulled back into the hints of a self serving smile, as you watched him cutely reach behind his back again and pull out another stuffy, his own character, Chimmy, this time around. 

Jimin held the stuffies up in front of his daughter, her eyes darting back and forth between the characters, and then without hesitation, she reached up and grabbed the Chimmy stuffed animal from her father’s hands, the toy instantly going in her mouth as she began to chew on one of the stuffed dog’s ears. 

He turned to you, his mouth forming his expression of surprise and wonder that you loved, his full lips pursed in the shape of an “o” as he pointed at your daughter, happily chewing on her prize, as he exclaimed excitedly, “See? She did it again! She always picks the Chimmy, no matter who else I hold up!” 

You grinned at his excitment, offering him a polite smattering of applause as you said in amusement, “Good job, babe. She really is a genius.” 

“Of course she is.” Jimin said, leaning back over the baby, as she looked up at him with sparkling eyes, causing him to smile down fondly at her. “She’s ours.” 

KIM TAEHYUNG

Hearing giggling coming once again from your daughter, who sat at the kitchen table with her father, supposedly doing homework, you glanced up from your cooking, and asked in a good humored tone, raising an eyebrow at the duo, “I’m hearing an awful lot of giggling over there. Are you actually working on homework?” 

“We are, mama!” Your daughter exclaimed, holding up her worksheet for you to see the neat rows of arithmetic scrawled across the page, as Tae shot you a grin from over her head. 

“Okay.” You said, still not convinced, as you smiled to yourself, turning back to the stove, warmth in your chest as you listened to your husband try to explain a problem to your young daughter. 

“All right. Let’s move on from math for a second, my brain needs a break.” Tae said, as he shuffled through your daughter’s worksheets, looking for something different to work on. “Ah ha!” He exclaimed triumphantly, holding up an art and shapes project. “Let’s do this.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, pausing, once again in cooking, to watch them secretly, quietly for a moment. Your daughter’s dark head of hair, bent over the paper, her father next to her, the same look of intense concentration on his features as they read the instructions aloud. 

“Read the description of each shape and draw it. That doesn’t seem too bad.” Tae said, as he sat back, and your daughter began to draw something on the paper in front of them. 

It was silent for several moments, the scritching of the pencil the only sound in the room, and then you heard your husband ask, “Wait. What’s this?” 

You left the stove and came to stand behind them, wiping your hands on your apron, before placing them on Tae’s shoulders and bending over to see what he was looking at. 

“It’s a heart.” Your daughter said proudly, pointing to the shape she had drawn on the page. 

“Honey, hearts don’t have all these extra things.” You said, slightly confused, as you pointed out the extras she had added around the traditional heart shape. 

She looked up at you, clearly offended, and then to her father, before she said in annoyance, “Yes they do, mama. That’s Tata’s hands, and his eyes, and....” 

You glanced down at Tae as she continued to point out the characteristics of her father’s character, and you watched as a boxy grin slid across his face the longer he listened, before he said proudly, “That makes sense to me. Tata is a heart.” 

“Yes.” Your daughter nodded, sitting back in her chair, happy that someone finally understood. “And they asked me to draw a heart. So I did.” 

JEON JUNGKOOK

Coming in through the door of your apartment, you laid your bag down on the kitchen table and kicked out of your tall heels, letting out a long sigh as you released your hair from its bun and unbuttoned the tight suit jacket you had been wearing all day. 

Walking down the hallway, you saw light coming from the cracked door of your son’s room, and you smiled softly to yourself as you approached, the sounds of Jungkook’s muted voicing drifting down the hallway to your ears. 

“Hey you two.” You said, as you pushed open the door open to the nursery. 

“Oh, hey jagi!” Your husband looked up from where he was playing with your son on the floor, the baby lying on his stomach, lifting his head on a wobbly and still unsure neck. 

“What’s our son wearing, Kook?” You asked, hiding your smile behind your hand, as you stepped into the room and glanced down at your son, who was dressed head to toe in a pink bunny suit, complete with hood and floppy ears. 

“It’s a Cooky costume. Cute, huh?” Kook picked up the baby, standing, the infant held in his arms, careful to support his head, as he offered you his bunny smile, his eyes sparkling. 

“It is pretty cute.” You laughed, reaching out to brush your fingers across your son’s tiny hand, before reaching up to push the hood, which had fallen over his eyes, away from his face. “It’s soft too.” 

“Right?” Kook agreed proudly, bouncing the baby slightly in his arms, before he said, “He’s gonna be a great boxer someday. Just like his dad and just like Cooky. Just watch, huh little man?”

The baby stared up at his father with large dark eyes, and after several moments, gave him a large, toothless smile as he cooed up at him. “Yeah, that’s right.” Kook thumbed the baby’s chin, and you grinned, as he began to bounce gently around the room on the balls of his feet, his son securely in his arms, as he mimicked the cheer of a crowd, “Cooky, Cooky, Cooky.” 

You watched them for another moment, love warm in your chest, and then you said in amusement, “Okay, you two champions. Who wants to spend some time with mommy before bed?” 

“We do!” Kook crossed the room to you, pressing a kiss to your lips, before he left the room, bouncing down the hallway, once again cheering quietly to himself, “Cooky, Cooky, Cooky!” as you followed, laughing, behind them. 

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Thank you for the request! I hope it’s okay and that it helps you feel better~

—

A strong vibration pulled Bakugou out of his deep state of sleep, the light of his phone blinding him as he peeked out over the fabric of his pillow. The consecutive three vibrations told him that it was merely a text message, which wasn’t something that would typically annoy him. What did annoy him was the fact that the message came in at just after ten o’clock at night, which was way past his typical school night bedtime. His ass had been in bed at eight, and after an exhausting day of training, he was more than done with being awake.

Whoever that is can just fucking wait. I’m too tired--

Another set of vibrations and bright light interrupted his thoughts and he growled out in frustration, reaching out and snatching the phone from the bedside table. With a rough tug, he yanked it off the wire charger, pulling it up close to his face. Glaring at the screen, he tried to blink the groggy blurriness out of his eyes, struggling to see who had texted him. Even with fuzzy eyesight, he could clearly see the name of his lover, who knew that he had gone to bed already. Now a bit worried that something was wrong, he rolled over onto his back, unlocking his phone to look at the messages she had sent him.

[Name] 10:24 PM: Katsuki, I know it’s late and I’m really sorry, but can you come outside? I really need someone to talk to…

[Name] 10:25 PM: I’m out on the sidewalk…

With a small click of his tongue, Bakugou sat up, kicking his blankets off before he stood. She’s already outside? What if I didn’t wake up? I swear… Although he was a bit annoyed with that particular problem, he was more worried, and he didn’t even bother to put on the orange slippers that rested at his bedside before he left his bedroom. Moving quietly, or as quietly as he really could in his rushed state, he snuck down the stairs and opened up the front door to his home. He hoped that his parents wouldn’t hear him, but really, he wouldn’t give a fuck if they did. She needed him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her out on the street.

Making sure it was going to stay unlocked, he shut the door behind him and trotted down the walkway, glancing around for his lover once he passed the brick wall that surrounded the home. At first, he saw no sign of anyone, but a soft touch to his shoulder startled him enough to make him jump, quickly snatching onto the wrist and pulling the person in front of him. “What the fu--” Bakugou instantly snapped out of his rush of fear, quickly catching the woman before him as she tripped and stumbled over her feet. “Shit! Babe, for fuck sake, don’t just tap someone!”

“I-I’m sorry, Katsuki.” She clutched onto him as she regained her composure, obviously struggling to hide the emotions in her voice. “I figured I needed to be quiet… I’m better off that way, it seems…” It was then that she lost her composure, sobbing into his chest. Feeling his chest tighten, Bakugou gripped onto her upper arms tightly, unsure of what to say or do. He hadn’t been dating this woman for long, though he knew her for most of his teenage life, through middle school and now into high school. It was rare that he would ever see her like this, so broken and upset. Had he done it just then, when he tugged her?

“Hey, look, I didn’t mean to grab you like that, you just freaked me out.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about…” She finally looked up at him, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Bakugou could tell, even just from the dim moonlight, that she had been crying for no less than a few hours at this point. Cupping her cheeks, he wiped the tears away with his thumbs, though they were quickly replaced. “What’s going on? Do I need to fuck someone up?”

A soft, short laugh escaped her lips, placing her hands over the top of his. “No, no… You can’t beat up my mom, Katsuki.” Bakugou scoffed, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Again?”

“Again… but worse. I… it’s just like I can’t do or say anything right-“ A hiccup interrupted her, hanging her head as she began to cry again. “I don’t even know what I did this time… but she just went off on me.”

Bakugou gently pulled her back into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. “What did she say?” Sniffling, she held onto him tightly, clutching onto the back of his black T-shirt. “T-that I was a useless daughter… That at my age, I should be doing all the housework and cooking, on top of my school work. It’s like… she thinks I’m worthless.” Bakugou was silent as he allowed her to talk, though she was often interrupted by her own sobs and sniffles. The more she explained, the more frustrated he grew, wanting more than ever to whisk her away from that place.

“That’s all bullshit.” He stroked the back of her head gently. “I can’t say why she’s spitting that shit, or what she’s trying to do, but none of that is true. I mean—“ Pushing her off of him gently, he held her shoulders tightly. “Babe, you’re already one of the top student at UA. You work your ass off there and at home as it is. You are not worthless. And even if that… woman—“ His voice was full of venom as he said that word, finding it better than calling his girlfriends mother a certain word. “—can’t see that in you, then fuck whatever she thinks. ‘Cause…”

Bakugou found himself becoming embarrassed by what he wanted to say. Heat had grown in his cheeks, throat growing tight, stopping him from continuing. What edged him on was the bright interest in her eyes, no more tears streaming down those beautifully flushed cheeks. “Because you mean everything to me. And soon, we’ll be moving into the dorms, and you’ll be away from her. I’ll take care of you. And you will never feel worthless again, as long as I can help it. Got it?!” His last statement was quite snappy as he struggled with his words and thoughts, though that didn’t seem to matter.

A wide smile crossed her lips, eyes no longer teary with sadness. “Oh Katsuki… your so sweet.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she caught him a big off guard with a sudden soft kiss. Quick to recover, Bakugou wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her body close. “I’m not sweet. I’m just… telling the truth.” He mumbled as the kiss ended, feeling his cheeks and ears flush wildly with heat. Her wide smile wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t deny that he loved it. That he loved her.

“It’s getting late. Come on up.”

“But won’t your parents get mad?”

“Eh, I’ll make sure you’re out before they notice. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go tonight. If you want.”

“Of course I want to, Katsuki. After what you just said to me, I can’t leave. I need cuddles.”

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

“Are We Still Drunk, Mr. Malek?” - A Fluffy Rami Malek Blurb

- You and Rami have been seeing each other for around a month now, and things are going ridiculously well.

- However, meeting up this time was all-around weird.

- Rami just got to yours after sleeping off his high-drunkness all fucking day.

- You legit had no idea if he was dead or alive.

- You made plans for him to come over and he just sort of - poof! - vanished.

- Hours later, he finally showed a sign of life and announced that he is, indeed, coming over.

- He then proved that he’s serious by texting you a selfie, walking to his car, making a goofy face with the caption "I'm on my way!"

- "What's up?" you ask as you let him inside.

- "I have no idea."

- "Still off from last night?"

- "Whoa. I mean... whoa."

- "How much have you had?" you chuckle as he rubs his eyes groggily.

- "I don't remember. Too much whiskey and weed."

- "Say no more."

- You both park your asses on the couch and put something on Netflix (it was Glow. You’re addicted to Glow).

- You immediately cuddle up to him, and he wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

- "So, Guys' Night was a success?"

- "I am never hosting those animals ever again."

- "I'll take that as a yes."

- "It. Was. Awesome."

- He trails his fingers up and down your arm, telling you whatever he could actually remember from the previous nights' shenanigans.

- Which wasn't much.

- "So, um, I don't know if food is on the docket for tonight..." he sort of mumbles into your hair.

- "Nope. I'm planning to let you starve."

- "Goddamnit, woman."

- "What do you want to eat?"

- "What are my options?"

- You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

- "Please don't do this again, Rami."

- After 15 minutes of an 'I'm-good-with-anything-what-do-you-want-to-eat?' verbal ping pong match, You both settle for Dominoes.

- Again.

- Rami's treat!

- Rami, ever the gentleman, gets the door.

- When he pays the delivery guy, they end up having an insanely long conversation about condiments and change.

- The delivery guy calls Rami "Sir" a bazillion times.

- Rami is too nice to just tell the dude to fuck off already.

- 20 years later A few minutes later, the delivery person leaves you two alone with pizza and garlic bread.

- Rami just stands there, looking confused.

- “I have never been called Sir that many times in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

- Approximately 10 minutes later, there's no more food left.

- You both inhaled it.

- You get up to put the empty boxes in the kitchen, and when you come back Rami has settled himself on the couch with his legs spread open and stretched forward and his back against the armrest.

- "Comfy?" you smirk and wriggle yourself between his legs, your back pressed against his front. "I can feel your food baby."

- He reached around you and placed his palms on your belly.

- "I can feel yours, too."

- "Did you just call me fat?" you mock offense.

- "Did you just call me fat?"

- You roll your eyes and scoff.

- You're into season three of Glow now, and you start talking about wrestling and Hulk Hogan and The Rock and Hollywood in general.

- If there's one thing Rami likes about you, it's that you're not phased by anything.

- He can tell you literally anything - and shit gets surprisingly bizarre - and you just sort of shrug it off.

- To him, it's refreshing.

- Anyways, at a certain point, a giant ant comes scurrying into the living room, and Rami expertly takes one of your discarded flip flops, aims and hits the ant on the first kill.

- You are visibly impressed.

- You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

- "The Pacific" is all he needed to say.

- “Mmmm I love Snafu.”

- You exchange kisses and caresses while you watch your show, and you almost can't help but snuggle even closer to him.

- He just wraps himself all around you and you feel so safe.

- At one point you look up at his eyes and just get absolutely, cheesily lost in them.

- You will never figure out what color they are.

- They are every single color you can possibly imagine.

- It's like they change with the weather.

- After binging on the entire season, Rami checks the time on his phone and whistles.

- "Bedtime. You have work tomorrow."

- You don't need telling twice.

- You basically sprint over to the bed and lay down, Rami following close behind you.

- You talk about everything and nothing at all in hushed voices, exchanging soft kisses in between words.

- Rami seems to be so out of it still.

- You feel a little sorry for him.

- He is obviously getting too old to party this hard with the boys.

- You can also tell that something is on his mind because he does those faces when he thinks.

- You know, like he can't figure out how to form a coherent sentence or how words happen.

- After a long silence of touching and kissing and embracing, he finally speaks.

- "Is it, uh, okay if we don't have sex tonight?"

- You blink silently.

- It’s not that you absolutely had to have sex with him, but you did hope it will happen.

- "I'm just..."

- "Rami, it's fine."

- "You sure?"

- "Yeah. I didn't ask you to come over because I just want sex. I like spending time with you."

- "It's just that I’m sure you sort of expected to have sex tonight and -"

- "Rami, seriously. It's ok."

- He nods gently and you give him a reassuring kiss.

- You rub your noses together and he smiles softly, his grin a little dopey.

- "You're so kind."

- "Huh?" you giggle.

- "I said you're kind."

- "Thank you?"

- "No, thank you." He cups your cheek in his hand and rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone. "For being so understanding and patient with me. And holding me. I like it when you just touch my arm or hug me, you know?"

- "Are we still drunk, Mr. Malek?"

- "I have no idea. I just... thank you."

- "You're welcome."

- You kiss him one last time and turn around.

- He pulls you as close to him as he can get you and wraps his legs around you.

- "Goodnight, Rami." You whisper just as he starts to snore softly.

[gahye0n]

Blanket Forts

pairing: dami / reader

word count: 1.3k

genre: fluff

request: can you write a jiu or dami scenario about their idol gf being a mom

--

You didn't know why you were worried to begin with. Dami had begged to meet your daughter since the moment you confessed that you had one, yet you made a hundred excuses to delay them from inevitably meeting. Truthfully, you were scared that they wouldn't get along and you'd be forced to choose between the two most important people in your life.

It seemed that, despite your hesitation, life had it's way of forcing the two together though. When you had a late night awards show and your babysitter canceled last minute, you had no choice but to ask a favor of Dami – though it was more of her begging to babysit.

You felt nothing less than silly for harboring such pessimistic thoughts once you returned home to colorful blankets strung over chairs and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting in from the kitchen. A soft giggle fell from your lips at the sight of the dinosaur molds and leftover smudges of cookie dough littering the countertop.

Past the pink bedsheet and woven throw, you found the entrance to their makeshift den. If you hadn't already felt silly for doubting their relationship, you definitely did in that moment, watching as your little girl slept curled up in your girlfriend's arms, both of them fast asleep. You had to bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest as you quietly snuck into the blanket fort.

Taking a seat on the opposite side of your daughter, you gently brushed the hair out of her face. Eyes flitting down, you noticed the tablet settled between them. Carefully, you picked it up, the screen coming to life for only moment, but long enough for you to catch the playback of your awards show. Your heart fluttered at the discovery, butterflies catching in your throat.

“Mommy?” your daughter mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yeah, Mommy's home. Did you have fun with Yoobin?”

She sat up, albeit a little unsteady, before nodding. “Mhm, had fun with mom!” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, confusion obvious even to your four year old. “Yoobin said I can call her that if I wanna!”

“Is that so?” you inquired nonchalantly as if you weren't squealing on the inside, baffled at how cute and sweet Dami could be sometimes.

“Babe?” Dami called softly, awoken by your conversation. “You're home already?”

You grinned, nodding your head before pulling your daughter into your lap. “I'm coming to reclaim my daughter, thief!”

She laughed at your playful tone, blinking away the sleep before reaching out to take your daughter's hand in hers. “She's mine now too! She's our daughter! Isn't that right, kiddo?”

Your daughter smiled ear to ear, fervently nodding her head and bouncing excitedly in your lap. “Auntie Jiu said you're gonna marry! So I get t' see her everyday!”

“M-Marry?” you stuttered, cheeks turning to fire. Sure you and Dami had mentioned marriage before, though it was nothing more than hopeful fantasies and whispered wishes for the future. Your eyes rose to meet Dami's, her grin ever present. You whispered the word again, a touch of hope in your voice. “Marry?”

Dami chuckled, “Of course! Were you not planning on marrying me eventually, Mrs. Lee? I'm wounded, truly!”

'Mrs. Lee'... you liked the sound of that. You were unsure of whether you'd actually take her last name when the time came, yet the thought made your heart feel light and high and irrevocably sweet. “Ask me properly and I'll consider it, Ms. Lee.”

“Ouch.” She pressed a hand to her chest in mock pain, as if you'd stung her heart with your latter words. “Remember that you asked for it, angel. You better prepare yourself now, I could propose wherever, whenever.”

You tried your hardest to bite back the smile tugging at your lips, the twitching corners giving you away immediately. “Try me. Though it'll have to wait, I believe we have a more pressing issue to discuss.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

You pointed a finger at her accusingly. “I'm pretty sure I told you no sugar after 7 pm.”

She chewed the skin of her lower lip, the mischievous smirk you knew so well surfacing. “Oh? The cookies?”

“Yes the cookies. Don't play innocent, Yoobin.”

“We had those at six! Right?” she prompted your daughter for support.

“Mhm! At sixth...” She held up four fingers and your stern expression faltered, authority nearly falling victim to her cuteness.

“Really? Because I believe I saw cookie crumbs on the tablet, and my awards show aired at nine...”

Your daughter squealed, jumping from your lap to Dami's, arms wrapping around her neck as she buried her head in her shoulder. Guilty, definitely guilty. Dami scrunched her nose. “You sure you’re an idol, not a detective?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny, ma’am.”

“Oh no! Whatever will we do, little one? Looks like mommy's gonna arrest us for our terrible cookie crime!”

“Not mom's fault!” your daughter pouted, eyebrows knit together and arms crossed in your direction. “Auntie Jiu gave it t' us!”

“Ah, so that explains why the kitchen is still intact...”

“Hey!” Dami stuck her tongue out in your direction. “If this is about our anniversary cake, the instructions were wrong!”

“Right... the instructions... you think everyone else who followed them had to purchase a new oven too?”

She scrunched her nose, taking your daughter's hand and guiding her out of the blanket fort. “Let's go read a bedtime story, kiddo. Mommy can join us when she stops being a meanie.”

Breathing a light chuckle, you sat there for a moment, wondering who the child was, her or your daughter, before finally following. From the doorway, you watched as the two cuddled in the twin sized bed, a hardcover fairy tale in Dami's hands. Your heart suddenly felt so light you were afraid it would float away – the two were inseparable and you couldn't have asked for more.

A soft smile played on Dami's lips as your daughter drifted to sleep. Carefully, she slipped from beneath your daughters tiny, grasping hands and made her way to you, pressing her lips to your cheek and leading you to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, she began to giggle, a nervous giggle that sounded somehow familiar.

“You were worried too, huh?” you exhaled as if you'd both been keeping a secret that wasn't much of a secret at all.

“That obvious?”

Nibbling on one of the dinosaur shaped cookies, you nodded. “Extremely, but only because I was too.”

“I think she likes me? Did I do well?” Dami's voice had a nervous lilt to it, as if it wasn't obvious that your daughter was completely infatuated with her.

You giggled wrapping your arms around her waist. “Completely. You did wonderful, my love. Thank you for opening your heart to her.”

“How could I not? She's a sweet kid, definitely takes after her mom.”

Heat touched you cheeks and stuffed the rest of your cookie in her mouth, “Enough with all the cheesiness tonight!”

She laughed, swallowing the pure sugar before pulling you back into her embrace. “What? Tired of my compliments? Should I just get straight to the point and propose to you then?”

“W-What?” you hiccuped, eyes widening at her straightforward inquiry.

“What? Think about it. Wouldn't she make the cutest little flower girl? And we'd have movie nights and read bedtime stories and just be the cutest family ever. I wanted to marry you before but now I'm even more certain that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I... I uh...”

She pressed a hand to your cheek. “You don't have to answer right now, don't even consider this an actual proposal. Just think about it for me? I really and truly want to spend my life making the both of you happy.”

Pink dusted over her cheeks and she nervously reached for another cookie. Smiling, you couldn't help but imagine a thousand more nights just like this one, only with a wedding band on your finger. “Yoobin...” you mumbled, and she hummed a quiet acknowledgment. “I want to marry you too.”

[littlerose13writes]

Enough For Now

Happy birthday to my loves @per-mare-ad-astra and @cherrydore, this was inspired by a certain interest you both have, I hope you like it!☺️

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

“Healer Scorpius?” The little girl swung her legs back and forth on the chair she sat on and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

Scorpius finished scribbling the date on the bottom of the piece of parchment he was attaching to her blood sample and smiled at her. “Yes, Emily?”

“Do you have any pets, at home, do you?”

Emily’s mum laughed. “Emily is desperate for a pet of her own.”

Scorpius smiled. “No, I don’t have any pets. It’s just me, my husband and my daughter at home. A baby is enough for now.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “So you never ever had a pet?”

“Emily, come on, Healer Scorpius is very busy,” her mum said briskly.

“It’s okay.” Scorpius placed her blood sample down. “I’ve had pets before, would you like to hear about them?”

Emily nodded enthusiastically. Scorpius darted his eyes at her mum for permission then pulled Emily onto his lap. His brief rundown of every animal he’d ever owned had him thinking for the rest of the day.

“Mummy, mummy!” Scorpius ran with abandon across the lawn and bounced around in front of his mother, who was tending to the hydrangeas. “Mummy, guess what?”

He paused for breath for half a second, leaving no time for any guesses to happen.

“I founded a bunny rabbit and it has all these baby bunnies and they’re all having a cuddle under the rose bush. Come and see!”

“Baby bunnies? You clever boy,” his mother beamed.

Scorpius tugged at her hand. Astoria laughed and carefully removed her gardening gloves, laying them beside her magical pruning shears (which Scorpius wasn’t allowed to touch). She offered her hand to Scorpius and let him pull her back across the lawn, to the rose bush.

“Look, they’re right there!” Scorpius flattened himself against the grass and peered under the bush. “Hello.”

He felt his mother crouch down behind him and together they watched the baby bunnies snuggle around a big, grey rabbit. There were four babies in all, small and fluffy. They reminded Scorpius of little clouds and he excitedly told his mother so.

“Little rain clouds, maybe.”

“Mummy, can I keep one? It can live in my bedroom and I can look after it and when Daddy grooms Hebe I can groom it!”

Scorpius pictured his father stroking their family owl’s feathers while he sat beside him with a baby bunny in his lap. He could give it a name and teach it all about dragons and read it his favourite bedtime stories.

Astoria frowned. “I don’t think you can take it away from its mummy. You wouldn’t want someone to take you away from your mummy, would you?” She wrapped her arms around him and he relaxed back into her.

Scorpius gasped. “Never!” He thought for a second, curled up against Astoria, then he squirmed in her arms to turn and face her. “I have an idea. All of them can live in my bedroom together!”

“Five rabbits?”

“Now I have no pets, so I could have five pets instead,” Scorpius reasoned. “I’m five so I can have five pets too!”

Astoria sat cross legged and pulled him onto her lap. “Does that mean Daddy gets to have thirty pets?”

“No,” Scorpius giggled. “That would be too much pets.”

“But five is just right?”

Scorpius considered her question very carefully. “Five is more than I thought of, but I don’t want to take them away from their mummy.”

“I think the bunnies will be the happiest living out here in the garden. They’re sort of your pets out here, just like the peacocks.”

“Gustave is my peacock pet!” Scorpius cried happily.

“Maybe they might like to meet us, let’s see.”

She gently removed him from her lap and Scorpius watched in awe as she crawled towards the rabbits. With a bit of light coaxing, the five animals scampered out from under the rose bush. Scorpius wondered if his mummy had used magic to get them to come out, but she didn’t have her wand out; Mummy seemed to have her own special magic that didn’t even need a wand.

Scorpius gasped in delight as one of the babies hopped up into his lap. “She likes me!”

“She’s lovely.” Astoria smiled and stroked the mummy rabbit. She was probably going to talk about Mummy things with the mummy rabbit, Scorpius thought.

“Your name is going to be,” Scorpius thought for a second and watched the bunny wiggle its nose, “Wiggles.” He scooped the bunny up and nuzzled his nose into its soft fur.

“What about these ones? Wiggles’ brothers and sisters?”

Scorpius knew all about brothers and sisters from some of his favourite books about children with brothers and sisters. They played together and went on adventures together and Scorpius thought it seemed like amazing fun to have brothers and sisters.

He pointed to one of the other babies. “Giggles, because it sounds like Wiggles.”

“Are they all going to have rhyming names?” Astoria placed the rabbit just christened Giggles into Scorpius’ lap too.

“Yes,” Scorpius said confidently. “Wiggles, Giggles, Higgles and Piggles.” He laughed at the way the names sounded.

“And the mummy?”

“Susan,” Scorpius said, without missing a beat.

Scorpius didn’t take a pet to Hogwarts because he just couldn’t decide between all the different options. His dad told him he could have any pet he wanted for school, which didn’t help his hyperactive, indecisive little mind at all. Instead, Scorpius decided to wait until his first term was over so as to make an informed decision.

The informed decision was that he was content enough with his stuffed hedgehog (named Chog) to be doing without a pet for now. School was rather overwhelming, and a pet to take care of seemed like a responsibility Scorpius didn’t want to shoulder just then. His best friend Albus had an owl, and he said Scorpius could borrow her whenever he wanted anyway, so he was happy enough. He decided he’d probably get a proper pet when he grew up and moved into his own house.

What Scorpius hadn’t planned for, was that when that happened, he’d be moving into a little flat in London with his now boyfriend, Albus. Albus didn’t like animals much, and Scorpius was so busy at Healer school that they weren’t really in a position to take care of any pets. Scorpius did get his own owl (a sweet little scops he named Daisy) who instantly buddied up with Albus’ grand old lady owl, but owls weren’t properly considered as pets.

That was until Scorpius’ first year as a qualified junior Healer, where he worked in the pediatrics department and was working towards his specialised qualification in Neonatal Magical Healing. With Albus expanding his business, it was arguably the busiest time for them both, which meant Albus was somewhat surprised when Scorpius arrived at home with two pygmy puffs in tow.

“Albus, can I discuss something with you?”

The two little balls of fluff quivered in the crook of Scorpius’ arm as Albus peered at them, put down the wooden spoon he was holding and raised his eyebrows at Scorpius. “Do we have pets now?”

“Temporarily… well, you see, Edward was very worried about who would take care of Bibble and Blip while he recovers from his surgery, and with his anxiety the way it already is…” He trailed off as Albus started grinning.

“You. Are. Ridiculous.” Albus tapped him lightly on the nose with each word and then laughed, pressing his lips to Scorpius’ for a second.

“Do you mind? I know you don’t like animals but they’re ever so easy to manage and they don’t shed and they really take care of themselves once you’ve fed them and cuddled them a bit and I can do that before work anyway and-“

He stopped as Albus scooped up the yellow puff and held it in both hands, bringing it up to his eye level. “You don’t look like you’ll be much trouble.”

The yellow pygmy puff (Blip) squeaked in delight and nuzzled against Albus’ finger. The blue one, Bibble, in Scorpius’ arms, copied his brother’s sound, as if celebrating being accepted into the Potter-Malfoy home.

“How long are they going to be staying with us?” Albus let Blip run up his arm and perch on his shoulder.

Scorpius smiled at the sight of his boyfriend and the little fluffy creature. “A few weeks, just until Edward is allowed to go home.”

It was indeed true that Bibble and Blip only stayed with Albus and Scorpius for a few weeks, in which time Edward made a full recovery. However, those few weeks were also long enough for Lily to get wind of the situation and arrange what she called Puff Playtime, seemingly an event where she brought her own three pygmy puffs over and taught them all to sing in harmony. Albus insisted he locked himself in his Potions workshop every visit, but Scorpius suspected he was almost as into it as Lily was, given how attached he seemed to be to Bibble and Blip.

The result of Lily’s endeavours was a very pregnant pygmy puff, the offspring of which she insisted belonged to Albus and Scorpius. Scorpius expected Albus to decline and offer the baby puff to his uncles for the shop, but he was extremely accepting of the whole thing.

“Well, I suppose we have no choice, Scor. I don’t mind looking after it in the day, they don’t take too much,” he said offhandedly with a poorly concealed grin.

And so, little Lavender Potter-Malfoy became part of the household. Named for her pretty pastel shade which Lily said confirmed that Bibble was the baby daddy, she was really quite sweet. She would roll around the flat and hop up onto the furniture, she liked to perch on Albus’ shoulder while he cooked dinner and Scorpius suspected the same thing happened while Albus potioned in his workshop. During the night, she would curl up at Scorpius’ feet but it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up and find Lavender nestled in his hair instead.

Lavender came with Albus and Scorpius to Albus’ parents for Christmas that year where she spent the whole day gleefully annoying the Potters’ old cat, Mrs Penelope Whiskerson. Penny took refuge in the airing cupboard which was too high up for Lavender to reach and she sulked for the rest of the day on Albus’ shoulder. Scorpius swears he heard Albus whisper to Lavender how he’d never liked Penny anyway and she was far cuter but he denies this vehemently.

Lavender the pygmy puff was much older and very mellow by the time another animal arrived at the Potter-Malfoy house in the form of the Lupin twins’ hamster. Teddy had apologetically handed over Honey in her small cage, saying something about how Pippa couldn’t sleep without her at the moment.

“Honey is having a sleepover at Al and Scorpy’s too!” Pippa cried happily, rushing around the room.

Lavender sniffed at Honey’s cage suspiciously but seemed to decide the small, sleeping hamster didn’t pose much of a threat. That’s what Albus and Scorpius had both thought too.

“What’s that noise?”

Scorpius hadn’t realised he was awake until he heard his husband’s voice, but now he too was aware of a strange, squeaking, rattling sound.

“Is that Pip?” Scorpius asked, blinking blearily into the darkness and rubbing his eyes. It was the middle of the night and still pitch black.

“I’ll go and check on her.” Albus sighed and pulled himself out of bed, padding across the room in his bare feet to check on the little girl sleeping in the guest room.

The strange sound stopped and he returned moments later with a dark expression on his face. “It’s the hamster. Running about on its bloody wheel.”

“Pippa’s still asleep?”

Albus climbed back into bed and curled up against Scorpius’ chest. “Silencing charms are safe to use on animals, aren’t they?”

Scorpius nodded and wrapped his arms around Albus, ready to fall back asleep. Instead, the bedroom door pushed open and soft footsteps crossed the room.

“Uncle Al,” Pippa’s little voice whispered.

Albus rolled away from Scorpius and pushed himself up in the bed. “What is it, sweetie? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No, worse. I can’t hear Honey running in her wheel. Is she okay, Uncle Al?” She pressed a finger to her lip in concern.

“She’s fine, my love. You just can’t hear her.” Albus got out of bed and took Pippa’s hand. “Come on, let’s put you back to bed.”

Pippa stayed resolutely where she was and wrenched her hand from Albus’ grip. “But I can’t sleep if I can’t hear Honey!”

Albus sighed and Scorpius passed him his wand from the bedside table, knowing he would want it to undo the silencing charm. A few seconds later, the monotonous squeaking of the hamster wheel was audible again and Pippa sighed in relief.

“Now you can sleep, come on, I’ll tuck you in.”

She went happily with her godfather this time and Albus returned a short while later, muttering mutinously. He threw himself down on the bed and buried his face into Scorpius’ neck.

“I know I can’t be cross with Teddy right now with everything that’s going on…” he ended this thought by simply sighing heavily.

Scorpius ran his fingers through Albus’ hair, massaging the back of his scalp in the process in what he knew was a calming way. The sound of the hamster wheel continued to sound loudly throughout the room.

“You know, if we’re not going to sleep…” Scorpius growled into Albus’ ear.

Lavender was no longer with them by the time Scorpius and Albus’ daughter was born. Albus said it was probably for the best, because Lavender would have been jealous of all the attention the baby was getting, but Scorpius knew he missed his little fluffy potions companion. He had secret plans to get Albus another pygmy puff for his birthday, although he might wait until their daughter was a bit older and Albus had gone back to work full time.

Having a baby around didn’t leave much time for pets until they reluctantly agreed to cat-sit for Harry and Ginny when they went away to celebrate their anniversary. Mrs Penelope Whiskerson the Second, however, turned out to be much more agreeable than her predecessor. She had a habit of curling up to nap in the most inconvenient places (like on top of Scorpius’ important hospital paperwork, or inside their daughter’s laundry basket) and she clearly thought she was the most important being in the house, but she was also cuddly and sweet, for a cat, Albus said.

Scorpius came home from a St Mungo’s one day to the sounds of giggling shrieks from the playroom. He’d had rather a stressful day, but just the knowledge that his husband and daughter were on the other side of the door soothed him immediately.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked loudly, peeking around the doorway. “There she is! Hello!”

“Dada’s home.” Albus scooped the baby up and carried her over to Scorpius where she immediately reached for him. He kissed her on both cheeks and wrapped an arm around Albus’ waist, kissing his cheek too.

“What have you been up to?” Scorpius looked in some confusion at the cardboard boxes in the middle of the playroom.

“We’ve been playing cat,” Albus explained. “Look.”

He pointed to one of the boxes, gently lifted the lid and beckoned Scorpius to look inside. When he peered in, it was to see Mrs Penelope Whiskerson the Second curled up comfortably. His daughter pointed enthusiastically at the cat and grinned, showing her tiny, single tooth. She was at the ‘pointing at everything’ stage and it was incredibly cute.

“So the cat gets in one box and she gets in the other?”

Albus shrugged. “More or less. She loves it, look.”

He took the baby from Scorpius and lowered her into the larger box where she immediately waved her arms around in excitement and squealed with delight.

“Merlin, that’s cute. Did you get a picture?” Scorpius was already halfway to the door to get the camera.

“Got about thirty,” Albus chuckled.

Scorpius sat cross legged in front of the box and his daughter grinned at him. She lowered her head so it was touching the bottom of the box and waited for a second, then she popped back up and shrieked with happiness.

“She’s playing peekaboo!” Scorpius couldn’t contain the feeling in his heart as he reached for Albus’ hand and pulled him down to the floor too. “Do it again, baby girl.”

She did, giggling with delight at Albus’ feigned wonders about where she could have gone. Then she popped up and looked between her dads, smiling toothily and looking a bit expectant.

“There she is!” Scorpius said obediently but all he received was a frown.

“Oh, no, you have to say tadah!” Albus explained and she immediately giggled.

Scorpius sighed and pressed a hand to his heart. “How do we have the cutest daughter on the planet?”

They continued playing peekaboo, Scorpius taking Albus’ tadah and turning it into a full fanfare celebration complete with firework sound effects which he made himself. She adored it and began to cry when Scorpius tried to take her out of the box for her bath.

“I don’t get it, she loves baths.”

“I suppose our daughter just lives in a box now,” Albus shrugged. “I’m glad we spent so much money on that pushchair.”

Scorpius was torn between taking her out of the box and riding the storm out - she’d stop crying once she was in the bath, wouldn’t she? - and letting her keep playing until she got bored of it by herself. He tried to imagine what he’d do if this was happening at work with a patient, but it was always so difficult to be objective when it was his own daughter.

But then the decision was made for him. Mrs Penelope Whiskerson the Second uncurled herself in the box and stretched her body out long, giving a very majestic yawn. She leapt lightly from the box and stalked from the room, her tail sticking straight up in the air, as if highly offended that they’d interrupted her box nap. Immediately, their daughter pointed to where the cat had gone and stretched her arms to be picked up and taken out of the box.

“Oh dear, are we going to have to get a cat now?” Scorpius straightened up as Albus picked their daughter up.

“Mrs Penelope Whiskerson the Third?” Albus snorted. “I think a baby is enough for now.”

They both smiled fondly as they watched their daughter rest her head on Albus’ shoulder and curl her little fist in his hair.

“She’s tired,” Scorpius commented unnecessarily.

As they went to leave the room together and give their daughter her bath, there was a loud crashing sound followed by a yelping meow. Albus gritted his teeth and sighed. “That’d better not be my potions kit again.”

“This is why a baby is enough for now,” Scorpius chuckled, going with him to investigate the damage.

[freedom-shamrock]

Catching Chances - Chapter 12

Also on AO3 Chp 1   Chp 2   Chp 3   Chp 4   Chp 5   Chp 6 Chp 7   Chp 8  Chp 9   Chp 10   Chp 11   Chp 12  Chp 13 Marichat May day 31 - reincarnation

Marinette felt Chat scoop her up, cradling her as he moved.  "Kitt-ty," she mumbled, completely comfortable with him carrying her.  "Where we going?"

She felt his chuckle more than she heard it.  "Bed, Princess. It's late. Way past your bedtime."

She recalled cuddling with him on the couch watching movies.  "You're staying?"

"Yeah," he replied.  "It's our long weekend together, remember?"

"Ooooh.  Yeaaaah."  With the knowledge that he wasn't leaving, that she would wake up to him tomorrow, she was able to relax against him and let sleep claim her again.

The floor was cool under her bare feet as she silently moved through the emperor's summer palace.  In her transformation, the airy skirts and light trailing sleeves of her hanfu had been replaced with a red and black representation of a Jingxi opera huā dàn costume.  Loose vertically striped pants swished around her legs. Two long thin braids hung down against the front of her red shirt while the rest of her hair was coiled at the back of her head in a style she never adopted as herself.  A fan was tucked into her gold accented belt, its long red tassel and the dangling ties of the belt brushing against her pants in a way that was comforting in its familiarity. She'd prefer not to get caught sneaking around at night, but if she was, it shouldn't be a problem.  She was a well-known hero in this guise, and she was effectively masked by white and pink magical opera makeup. Not even her own parents knew of her superhero activities and she'd rescued them twice this year alone.

She paused, seeing a shadow lurking in the room she was heading for.  He was tall, carefully standing at the back of the room, where the open windows wouldn't shine light on him. But her eyes were attuned to the movement, and she saw better in the dark when she was transformed.  She sighed, letting a faint smile grace her lips when she noted the pom on the top of his head. Pausing just long enough to listen, she continued into the room to meet with her partner. She joined him at the back wall.

"Piáo Chóng," he purred.  "I suspected I might find you here."

She reached out and lightly tapped his nose.  His face was concealed behind the magical makeup of the mask of Chong Hēihǔ.  "Of course I'm here, silly cat," she whispered. "I don't deviate from our plans."

He smirked, bowing his head slightly.  "My Lady is so clever."

She loved this relationship, so full of fun and genuine affection delivered in polite social manner.  "I have managed to establish myself among the ladies as sweet and reliable."

He grinned.  "As I said, so clever."  He held out his hand, letting two fingers brush under her chin.

"Ah ah," she said, waving a finger in front of his face.  "No distractions, My Tiger."

He folded his hands together and bowed his head.  "Business first, of course," he said in agreement.  "I have uncovered the first silk strands of the plot against the emperor and his family.  I must unweave them a bit more before I have anything solid for us to work off, but I believe his eldest son is the target."

She swept up one of his hands in her own.  "A thousand blessings upon your family," she murmured.  "Please continue to pluck at those knots." Her fingers ran over the back of his sharp claws.

The world melted away, and she stood beside the Loire River at the besieged city of Orléans, dressed in plate armor that would have felt heavier if not for Tikki.  She held a French banner aloft to flap in the wind while men around her fought. The dull thuds of steel against leather bucklers and shields joined with the sharp crack of bow strings and the shouts of the soldiers.  They were here to free the town of Orléans from its British invaders, to take back French land from the ever expanding British reach. The army had been demoralized after too many consecutive defeats, and losing here was not an option.

Though she couldn't see her partner, she knew the Black Cat was here, following his side of the plan from his place inside the high stone walls of the city.  She could feel his movements as he lurked in shadows, sabotaging the entrenched British forces at every opportunity. Her troops would succeed this day, and she would finally meet her partner outside of the visions her kwami's magic gave her.

The sights and sounds of war faded into the arid heat of the desert, subdued in the dark of night.  The stars were bright in the deep blue black cloth of the sky. She sat cross-legged on the roof of the chapel of the sun, her black-spotted, red linen sheath bunched up around her thighs. The North Palace was quiet tonight, and she couldn't decide if that bode well for them or not.

Her hands fiddled with the red yo-yo that served as her primary weapon as Red Scarab, protector of Egypt.  A faint scratching sound, the familiar noise of claws on brick caught her attention and she looked up in time to see her partner pull himself up onto the roof beside her.

"Good evening, my Panther," she whispered, smiling at him.  The beads at the ends of her many braids clicked together as she moved her head.

He crawled, cat-like, to settle beside her.  The tall gold-lined black ears that came with his transformation twitched and pivoted to catch the sounds around them.  "Lovely Scarab," he said, settling beside her, the belt of his gold-accented, black linen shenti covering his lap. "The pharaoh is unwell.  His mind has taken to madness."

She nodded.  "It is what I feared."

"He has taken to calling the departed mother of his child by another name, and is preparing a great sacrifice to Ra," Panther continued.  "He has acquired a tool of magic." He looked down at his hand, where a silver band wrapped around his finger. "I've not seen its like before.  Plagg tells me that should he cast his spell it will cause great harm and it won't bring back the dead."

Red Scarab nodded.  "Tikki feels the magic.  She worries for the fertility of Egypt and the surrounding nations if it is put to use."

"We will stop him, my love," Panther said, confidently.

She smiled at him.  "You seem so certain, son of Bastet."  She tapped him lightly on the nose.

"With you beside me, I can't be anything else."  For a moment, he closed his bright green eyes, slitted like a cat's and glowing with his magic.  "And perhaps when the threat is past, you will consent to become the wife of a scholar and servant of justice."

She giggled.  "I see you have plans of you own."

"I do," he agreed, leaning over to nuzzle her beaded hair.  "You are welcome to join me in them."

"Then I shall."  The skin of his bare shoulders was warm and soft under her hand as she leaned against him.  She didn't know his true name or identity, and learning his occupation made her far happier than she expected.

Marinette woke with a gasp, strangely both fully aware of who and where she was, yet oddly disoriented from dreams of a hundred past Ladybugs.  In every one, her black cat was by her side. Sometimes things ended peacefully in old age or naturally from illness. They raised children, mourning together for those who did not survive infancy.  In other lives he took a final fatal blow meant for her, and in even fewer she did the same for him.

She was breathing hard, tears leaking out of her eyes to drip onto the duvet she clutched.  She whined, unsure if she was more upset over experiencing Jeanne d Arc's burning at the stake, or the fact that her Back Cat had allowed himself to be captured in cat form, only to be thrown onto the pyre, as self punishment when he couldn't help her escape.

Familiar hands wrapped around her, pulling her to Chat Noir's chest.  He was in the soft t-shirt she'd made for him, and it smelled like him.  Not pungent, but comforting. "Sssh, Mari. I'm here. I've got you," he whispered.  His hands trembled a little, and his breathing almost as rough as her own. "It was just a dream."

She shook her head, unable to speak out of fear that she'd make some horrible howling sound.  It wasn't a dream. She'd bet her miraculous on it. She'd lived the past Ladybugs' lives in her sleep.  She didn't remember all of them, not consciously, she couldn't. But they were all there, to some extent.

Chat kissed her forehead, rocking her in his arms, whispering softly to her until she was calm.  His fingers gently brushed her hair out of her face as she looked up at him from her vantage point resting on his bicep.  "You're safe Mari. I'm here with you, I won't let anything hurt you."

She reached up and brushed her fingers over the edge of his fabric mask.  It was damp and he looked almost as spooked as she'd felt. "Oh Kitty," she whispered.  "My sweet kitty." She bit her lip and tightly screwed her eyes shut, to prevent another round of crying.

"It's time," Plagg said quietly.  He'd taken up residence at the end of the bed.

"I'll get you cheese in a minute," Chat said.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Plagg said with a wry smile.  "You had the dreams. It's time to end the charade."

Marinette reached out a hand to the black kwami, pulling him close to cuddle as soon as he landed on her palm.  "Oh Plagg…" she whispered. How hard had it been for him to lose so many of his kittens?

Plagg purred and rubbed his head under her chin.  "This is what we've been waiting for, Princess. You can tell him now."

"Tell me what?" Chat asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Why now?" she asked, confused.

"You are each complete now.  You know who you are. Who you were."  He reached out and lightly placed one paw on the tip of her nose.  "You've seen what can go wrong. You understand the importance of caution and planning.  You're ready."

Sniffling a little, she looked back up at Chat.  "I love you."

That brought her a half-smile.  "That's not news, though I'm always glad to hear it."

She shrugged.  "Yeah… I hope you still feel that way after this."  What if he didn't? What if he didn't come back? Tears pricked at her eyes again.  She couldn't lose him. Not again.

"To be fair," Plagg helpfully interjected, looking his chosen in the eye.  "She's been wanting to tell you this for ages. Since she moved here."

"Before," she corrected.

Plagg gave her a glance.  "I stand corrected. She's wanted to tell you since before she moved here.  But we wouldn't let her."

"What?"  Chat said quietly.  "We?"

Marinette put her thumb behind one earlobe, calling his attention to the plain black cabochon earrings she always wore.  "I'm Ladybug."

Chat froze, his eyes positively huge as he stared at her.

"My kwami... Tikki, forbade me from telling you, and… I've felt awful, keeping it from you.  But it doesn't change anything. I still love you. I still want to be with.you." She wanted to reach out and embrace him, but didn't dare intrude upon his space.  "None of this has changed." She gestured between them.

"With all due respect, My Lady, it changes quite a bit," he said.

She flinched, drawing her arms in close to hug herself as she prepared for the worst.

His hand caught one of hers before she could fold in on herself entirely.  "I didn't say it was a bad change, Princess." He brought her fist to his lips, lightly kissing the back.  

She closed her eyes, shuddering in relief.  "I love you."

"And I love you, Marinette."  Moving slowly, he reached up and placed her hand on the knot at the back of head.  "And I know how you feel, exactly. I've wanted to tell you who I am… I've felt so dishonest, Princess."

She offered him a small smile.  "I know you, don't I?" She felt his nod more than she saw it.  "I understand. And I will still love you without this."

"Take it off, please."  His voice was small, as if he expected her to deny him.

She slipped the knot up the back of his head, not looking away from his eyes as she discarded the mask the moment his face was exposed.  "Oh," she whispered, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "Oh, Adrien. It's you." It was as though all the pieces of a puzzle had fallen into place, and it was so right.  She beamed at him.  "Of course it's you."  She slipped one hand into his hair behind his ear.

His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her touch.  "Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive."  All her warm happy feelings fled and she nearly choked on nothing when she realized all the things that had happened to Adrien, when she suddenly knew the name of the man who had abused her Kitty for years.

His eyes snapped open.  "What? What's wrong?"

She ground her teeth together for a moment.  "I want to kill your father," she snarled.

"I told you," Tikki whispered, nudging Plagg, as she settled beside him in Marinette's lap.

"She's being hyperbolic," Plagg dismissed.

"She's not."  The tiny red kwami met Marinette's eyes.  "Don't think I don't see you plotting murder, Marinette."

"Death is far too good a punishment," Marinette snapped.

"I adore you, Princess," Plagg said, happily.

Adrien laughed, lightening the dark mood that had settled.  "Nice to meet you Tikki." He extended one finger to the kwami, chuckling as she hugged it.  "Princess, can you plot against my father later?" When she met his eyes she was surprised by the joy she saw there.  "I really want to kiss you right now."

"Kwamis out," Plagg blurted, grabbing hold of Tikki and flying out of the room.

"But I can plot later?" she asked, massaging his scalp again.

"Yes."  He leaned in to rub his cheek against hers.  "I'll even help."

"Okay," she agreed.  "Kisses and cuddles now.  Plotting later."

Thank you all for sticking through this one with me. I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! If I have time an energy, I'll come back and slap on an epilogue showing the fall of Gabriel Agreste.

Research Notes: China Piáo Chóng (Ladybug) and Hēihǔ (Black Tiger) Their costumes are influenced by Chinese Opera.

Huā dàn is a traditional opera role.  Huā dàn are young maidens, flighty, energetic, and vivacious, they are known for quick movements and a bit of sass.  Their role is there to brighten and amuse. This is a presentation of a well known dance Qiao Huā Dàn by the dance school I volunteer with 

Chong Hēihǔ is a black tiger character from both a Chinese novel and opera.  You can see his  opera mask paint here .

Hēihǔ is wearing a costume consistent with a wu song hero role because it would be better to fight in than some of the costumes used in the wu sheng and other hero roles.  He's wearing this in black with green 

France Jeanne d Arc and Black Cat

She was burned at the stake and a black cat was thrown on the fire, a common practice for the pyre of a witch.  The cat was her partner, who could shapeshift.  He chose to die, allowing himself to be captured for this purpose when he could not free his partner.

Egypt Red Scarab and Panther

Akhenaten's concubine or lover (known to historians as only The Younger Lady), and the mother of Tutankhaten (later Tutenkhamun) has died and he is bereft. He has taken to calling her by his wife Nefertiti's name (it means "the beauty has come").

[ahumanintraining]

sign out (ch. 3 of “follow up”)   a shallura modern era hospital au ft. dr. allura and patient shiro  [link to ao3]

— notes: and yes here is the allura pov chapter that you all have been waiting so patiently for. (and yes, happy shallura day! i say this two days late but we all know that every day is shallura day anyway)

chapter three: sign out

Allura almost squeals.

But fortunately, she’s able to hold it all in until she’s absolutely certain that the phone call ended.

Then she thrusts her face into a pillow and makes the strangest sound she’s come out of her mouth since she matched into residency.  

Today had been a complete series of emotional chess, starting from the moment she walked in to see him, not at all expecting the patient with the uncomplicated right distal radius fracture in bed 24 was going to be an ultra-cute man with the shyest smile and the most curious streak of white hair over his forehead.

She was caught so off guard she almost couldn’t even appropriately perform the final physical exam to discharge him. His gaze was so intense and he had such an entrapping calm demeanor that made her forget about the hustle and the bustle of the emergency department behind the curtain. If talking to him to recap his injury history wasn’t already making her trip over her words, she absolutely stuttered as she told him the physical exam findings, close enough to smell the light cologne wafting from his skin and see the light stubble over his jaw — honestly thank god none of the nurses or technicians were also present in the room because without doubt they would have dragged her about it in the break room if they had witnessed her.

If she wasn’t wrong in reading him, she took a chance on his fast heartbeat, his jagged breath, and the light blush over his cheeks and gave him all the hints that she was absolutely interested in seeing him again outside of the hospital context.

It was a huge risk — she worried that maybe he was just embarrassed about the whole situation or about his entire story falling off the monkey bars, which actually wasn’t all that ridiculous when it came to the emergency room. Not to mention, when she gave him her number, she was technically still overseeing his health care so it was a little weird in the doctor-patient relationship.

But it was fine, right? Technically she just gave him her business card, which she has done to patients she wanted to follow up even beyond the emergency room because of the complexity of their case.

This would just be another someone she wanted to follow up with. Well, maybe not for the same reasons, but…

She groans, pressing her face into the pillow again, remembering how she circled her cell number and even winked at him — so stupidly embarrassing!

How could she have just put herself out there like that so obviously? What if she just read all the signs wrong and completely misinterpreted?

Of course, now that he had actually called her back, she supposes she made the right decision after all.

She — Allura Altea, three years an attending at Olkarian General with her ass still deep in government federal student debt — had a date.

Or something. He did mention he wanted to “at least return the thanks.”

She doesn’t know. It’s unclear.

Regardless, she was going to get to see him again. She giggles to herself again, uncharacteristically giddy with excitement. She throws aside her pillow and reaches again for her agenda book, looking at the Thursday column. She raises her pen point just below her 6 PM shift, twirling her pen a few times to consider what to write.

“8 pm – DATE!!!!!” is too embarrassing even for her to look at — and then what would happen if she opened her book and one of her other colleagues happened to see the colorful all-caps? She’d never hear the end of it.

“8 pm – Date” doesn’t look right either. And moreover, what if it wasn’t even a date? What if he was just trying to be polite? Although… he did ask for dinner, not lunch. Or at least, he did at first…

She shakes her head to herself. Focus, she tells herself.

Maybe “8 pm – Takashi” would be most appropriate. She writes it in but then frowns when re-reading it.

This makes him seem like a consult call or some kind of referral. Maybe she can doodle in something to make it look more friendly…

Before she knows it, she scribbles a small heart next to him — and immediately regrets it. She scratches it out, but then finds that she ends up just coloring in the heart, making now a very clear and very solid heart next to his name.

“Oh my god, what am I? A high schooler? I’m 33 going on 14.” she moans out loud, flopping back onto her hardwood floor, casting her agenda book to the side.

Hearing her distress, her cat mewls, jumping down from the windowsill and climbing on top of her.

“I know. I must be so annoying to deal with right now, huh, Blue?” she mumbles, lifting her cat off her stomach and rolling onto her side to curl around her.

Allura lays there for a long time, replaying the last hour in her head, regretting lots of things she said. What was she thinking?

Oh, yeah, pull rehearsed statements out like ‘I appreciate you taking the time to call me’ or ‘I really like to hear how my patients are doing.’ For sure, yeah, that’ll really tell him that she’s interested in him as more than just a patient.

And then telling him that Thursday evening would work perfectly because she didn’t have anywhere to be the next day? What was she trying to say?

“I’m such an idiot,” she tells Blue.

But Blue is tired of cuddling and of hearing her shit, gingerly stepping out of Allura’s reach. Allura frowns, watching Blue take residence in a solitary corner, before subsequently doing the splits and starting to lick its hindlegs clean. Allura sighs. Her eyes trail back to her phone, strewn a few feet away, and she crawls over to it, scrolling hesitantly over the last message in her voicemail and looking at his familiar set of unfamiliar numbers.

Is it too optimistic for her to save his number into her phone? Probably. Allura knows better than anyone that romance does not work out the way it does for princesses in fairy tales, no matter how sure a princess thinks she’s found her paladin.

She bites her lip, and then pokes her screen to play his voicemail again, pressing her phone close to her ear. She smiles, hearing the croak in his voice as he starts talking.

Um… it’s Takashi Shirogane. I was your patient the other day. I guess I was just giving you a follow up call. Thanks for everything. Hear from you soon.

Such a short message. Barely a full ten seconds. It’s not nearly long enough. She plays it again, listening again for that beginning rumble of his voice when he first opens his mouth.

Takashi Shirogane.

She repeats his name to herself softly. She loves the light r of his last name, and how he says it in a gentle flutter. She hopes that she pronounced his name in exactly the same way during their last call, but she knows better than anyone else that her language skills are actually horrid and for as much as her dear father really tried to get her fluent in Spanish and French, she had no chance with the small amount of patience she had and the little tenacity she had to study anything but medicine.

She catches herself with a stupid smile over her face again, and she shakes herself out of lovesickness.

This is ridiculous. She hasn’t felt this way in such a long time.

She checks the time. It’s close to the time she needed to get herself into bed, so she showers, brushes her teeth, and crawls into bed after downing a few extra gulps of water to hit her daily hydration goal.

But it’s pointless. She doesn’t sleep at all, lying in bed well past her bedtime, dreaming of cute smiles and soft hellos.

The next couple of days is so mundane that when Thursday approaches, she almost completely forgets about the “8 pm – Takashi” line in her agenda until she opens her book in front of Dr. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, aka the chief of emergency medicine, and sees the crime-implicating solid heart.

Her eyes freeze on seeing the reminder, and she instinctively presses the pages against her chest.

“So, we’ll have our monthly department meeting on the twenty-third next month instead of the twenty-fifth as usual. Are you on shift that day?” Coran asks, scrolling through his phone, not seeming to notice her flushing and sudden protectiveness of her agenda book.

Cautiously, she flips a few pages forward, seeing a night shift on said date. “I should be off my 7 to 7 by then,” she says. “Meeting still at 7 am?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Lots of quality statistics to discuss, so try not to be late.”

“You implying I have some improvements to make?” she teases.

He looks up at her, twirling his ginger moustache and chuckling. “Even if you are one of our exceptional physicians, you know I just need to enforce the same expectations for our entire team.” He nods his chin at her unused computer, monitor black from inactivity. “As long as you’re still picking up patients.”

Ah. Funny he should say that.

“Alright, alright,” she says, swiveling her chair around and shaking the mouse.

“Aside from all of this, anything new going on in your life these days?” he asks, tucking his phone into his white coat pocket and leaning over the counter. “Haven’t been able to properly talk to you ever since the new residents joined us over the summer.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging. “But honestly nothing too much has been going on.” She clicks on the EMR to assign herself to the 53-year old male with chest pain in room 18 and turns to the stack of EKGs next to her, searching for the matching EKG to her patient.

“Really? No new potential suitors?” Coran asks. “I feel like you were complaining plenty about that in the last conversation I had with you. Something about someone moving into your apartment building?”

She rolls her eyes. “The Lotor guy is still bothering me,” she tells him. “But at least because he likes me I can ask him favors. He takes care of Blue for me when I’m out too late.” She finds the matching EKG and interprets it quickly, writing in left ventricular hypertrophy. “But you know it’s funny you ask me that now because I actually have a date tonight.”

Coran raises both his eyebrows. “See that is exciting,” he declares. “Who’s this date of yours?”

As much as Allura wants to tell Coran, she doesn’t want to mention that her date may just also happen to have been a patient in the emergency room just a couple days ago… and also just happen to have a patient chart with her signature on it.

“Uh… well just someone that I met at random,” she lies, of course, realizing she executed the confabulation terribly.

Coran gives her a look that tells her he knows her bullshit. “At random, huh?” he replies, not prying. “Well, I suppose you’ll tell me at some point.”

She just smiles and shrugs, then choosing that moment to stand and get to her patient in room 18. “Maybe at some point,” she promises him.

“I’m sure I’ll hear about it if it ends up turning out horrible.”

“Probably,” she agrees, waving him a short goodbye as she steps past him.

But for some reason, she has the most undoubtable feeling tonight’s date won’t turn out horrible at all.

She doesn’t get home until 7:45 pm.

Well, so far tonight’s date is going pretty horribly, she thinks to herself, rushing to get her keys into the keyhole to unlock her door.

Once in her apartment, she hurls herself in, dropping the day’s handbag on the floor and pulling off her shoes as she walks in. She reaches up to pull off her hair tie, shaking her hair out as she makes her way to her closet, already half-undressed.

She did absolutely everything she could in order to optimize getting back home once the clock hit the end of her shift at 7 pm — even going so far as to beg Sendak to cover the last few codes she technically should have been doing so that she could instead rapidly finish closing her charts because she had no option to just close them on her next shift because the next time she’d be in the hospital would going to be more than 24 hours later and Coran would never let her hear the end of it if she didn’t sign her notes within the mandatory time frame and she would definitely be roasted at the next department meeting.

Needless to say, she is frazzled.

She holds her head between her hands, frowning as she looks in the mirror. She looks at the clock on the wall. Damn. She is not going to have time to look nice. Damn. She doesn’t even have the time to take a shower. And damn it, of course this would happen to her on that one night she has a date with someone she thinks she might actually like?

Well, a maybe-date date. Because what if all this time he really is just taking her for dinner out of the goodness of his heart? After all, he did call her to update her about his arm and to thank her… and he didn’t actually bring up the idea of dinner until after she carried the conversation…

She calms herself down. It’s fine, it’s fine, she tells herself. It’s going to be all —

Wait, check your phone, she reminds herself. Because what if he is already outside waiting —

She taps her phone screen and sees no notification.

She can’t help but frown. Maybe she is really is getting too excited and hopeful about this maybe-date date. If he liked her, he definitely would be a little early right? Or texted her earlier today to check in?

Or maybe he forgot about their dinner?

Damn, maybe she should have texted him earlier today. But no, she didn’t want to overstep and over-text him either.

She groans one more time and ceases her internal dialogue, telling herself to just focus on her outfit for tonight. It doesn’t matter how much time she has; every single second she has left before this maybe-date date of hers is valuable to get her act together.

She flips her phone to the ring setting and hitches up the volume to max so that there is absolutely no way that she would miss a call, walking back to her closet.

She makes another frustrated sound as she sifts through her outfits. All throughout her emergency training, she was able to get away with wearing scrubs, which was great for her at the when she didn’t have the time to figure out what to wear on the sleep-deprived mornings before a shift but right now, as she looks through her severe lack of nice dating-material clothing, she is regretting her options.

She doesn’t even know exactly where he’ll be taking her. Should she wear something more formal or something more casual? But this is okay. She’s been in this situation at least one hundred times before — there’s a few dresses that can pass for most events aside from an underground rave late at night or a Board of Trustees meeting, but she’s pretty sure that he’s not taking her on any of those extremes.

Her hands stop at a white dress with a floral print — kimono v-neck, mid-arm sleeve, about knee-length — and she looks it over with pursed lips, her eyes tracing one of the pink flowers and its surrounding dark green stem and leaves along the waist.

Her favorite dress. She doesn’t wear it often because she’s afraid of getting it dirty and because otherwise she’d be wearing it all too often.

It was the last gift her father gave her, and the first thing she thinks of when remembering him.

Her thumb rolls over the silky material as she muses for a moment, and then slips it off the hanger, lying the dress over her bed before she pulls it over her head, flipping her hair out from under the collar as she looks at herself in the mirror.

She frowns. The dress fits her well, of course, but her hair is a tangled mess. She sighs and rolls it back up into some kind of a loose bun. It looks almost purposefully messy, some of shorter strands of her hair peeking out from behind her ears, but it also looks like she just got out of a twelve-hour work shift and like didn’t care about this date when she actually really did want to impress him and set herself up in the best way possible for this to be an amazing night.

Maybe at least some light makeup? She rushes over to her makeup bag, pawing through it before a loud ring emerges from her phone.

Her eyes dart to it, her heart rate suddenly jolting. Another ring emerges — a long one that she knows means that someone is calling her and who could it be but him… She rushes over, looking over the caller ID and seeing the familiar set of numbers.

She swallows. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

Her heart flutters again. “Hi!” she says, almost too excitedly, but then clears her throat, mollifying her enthusiasm. “Um, hey,” she tries again, stupidly. She briefly pauses, and then unable to figure out what else to say, adds, “What’s up?”

Silently, she hits her forehead with the palm of her hand. What’s up? Was that the only thing she could think of to say? What was she thinking?

“I just want to apologize for calling you so last minute about this,” he starts.

“Oh, no, I mean, I was just getting ready myself. No rush,” she blurts. She’s not sure why she says all this when she could have just said ‘oh, no, that’s okay’ but then again, so far, she doesn’t have a great history of saying exactly what she wants when he talks to her.

“Oh,” he says, pausing in a way that makes her regret what she said. “Well, I was going to apologize about tonight. I, um… well, I’ve had a bit of a change in plans.”

He says this, and her heart sinks.

[link to chapter 4!]

notes: oh no would could have possibly happened???

(also if you think that I’m going to get away with this modern AU without putting in as many Voltron references as possible, you are very very wrong. call me out on all the lame ones :P)

[noona-clock]

Your Friend, Joo Hyuk - Part 10

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Joo Hyuk x You

By Admin B

Intro, Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Epilogue

Joo Hyuk ended up staying with you for a full week. You’d half-heartedly tried a few times to get him to leave earlier because you were worried about his job and everything, but he’d insisted on staying until you felt okay enough to be on your own.

To be honest, you weren’t sure how long that would take. You were taking Mickey’s death pretty hard.

So, Joo Hyuk simply convinced you to go back to Korea with him. He made the point you could simply exchange your ticket for the same flight he was on to return back to his home, and you still had the ticket for your flight back to California in about a week.

You were a little wary about leaving home, but it made too much sense for you to go with him. Plus, you wanted to spend more time with him, and if you had to fly halfway across the world to do it, then so be it.

You hadn’t unpacked your suitcase from a week ago, so on the day you two were set to fly to Seoul, you rarely even had to prepare. Your dad came and picked you up again, and you told him of your plans - or, rather, Joo Hyuk’s plans - to move here. He was supportive, of course, but you could tell he was also a little skeptical. You couldn’t blame him because you’d really only spent three weeks with Joo Hyuk in person. But you knew it was right.

Arriving at the airport, checking your bag, and going through security was like déjà vu, except this time Joo Hyuk was with you. And you were fairly certain you wouldn’t get another life-changing phone call while you were waiting to board your flight.

At least, you hoped not.

Thankfully, you both got on the plane without interruption. And the person sitting next to Joo Hyuk must have noticed you two reluctantly parting since your tickets weren’t next to each other because he offered to trade seats with you. You thanked him profusely, and you honestly almost cried because you were so relieved. It would’ve been just plain awful being on the same plane with Joo Hyuk for thirteen hours but not be sitting next to him.

The flight was long, but you didn’t mind sitting next to Joo Hyuk, watching movies, sleeping on his shoulder, and talking quietly about your plans the whole time. In a way... you were glad it worked out this way. Although you still wished things were different, of course.

You managed to sleep some during the flight, so when you arrived in Seoul, you weren’t too exhausted. Just a little.

Joo Hyuk took you back to his apartment, your nose pressed to the taxi window the whole time so you could take in as many sights of the city as you could. You would only be here for a week, and you wanted to get as much done as possible (though you were quite positive you would visit again in the future, but visiting someplace for the first time was always exciting).

You were pretty impressed with how nice his apartment was, and you expressed your regret he would have to leave and move into yours, which seemed old and shabby by comparison.

“I don’t really care where I live,” he assured you, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder. “As long as you’re there.”

You blushed, nudging him in the ribs gently. “You’re so cheesy sometimes,” you accused.

“But you like it,” he murmured, tilting his head to place a kiss on your neck.

You bit back a smile as you turned around, snaking your arms around his neck and quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“What?” he asked, sliding his arms around your waist.

“I can think of quite a few more things I like,” you told him before standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his.

And... let’s just say, you got your week started off on the right foot.

Your week in Korea was an amazing distraction from the current struggles in your life. You spent almost all day out in the city of Seoul with Joo Hyuk, eating and shopping like your life depended on it. You definitely didn’t leave enough room in your suitcase for all your purchases, but Joo Hyuk said he would bring whatever couldn’t fit when he moved.

You stopped by all the entertainment companies, letting your inner fangirl come out when you saw pictures of your favorite groups and idols. Joo Hyuk was the perfect boyfriend, of course, and didn’t let his jealousy show. He willingly took your picture, and he didn’t laugh or make fun of you.

Joo Hyuk also took you down to Busan for a few days to meet his family

You were extremely nervous to meet them, but they were more than excited to meet you. His mom hugged you about as tightly as your dad had at the farm last week, and she very proudly greeted you in English. Joo Hyuk murmured she’d been practicing just for you, and you almost wanted to cry. You had been practicing your Korean, as well, so you made sure to thank her for her hospitality in her native tongue. Which made her cry.

So, really, the two of you were a big mess. And now you understood why Joo Hyuk loved you so much. Your personality was almost identical to his mom’s!

Before traveling to Busan, you’d been anxious to meet his family and spend time with them, but your three days there were probably the most memorable and fun of your trip. You ate some supremely delicious seafood, went to a fun amusement park, and relaxed some at the beach.

If your three days at Disneyland were the best of Joo Hyuk’s life... you might consider these three days the best of your life. But that was a very strong ‘might.’ Because those three days at Disneyland were amazing.

After your visit to Busan, you only had one more day left in Seoul before your flight back to California. Joo Hyuk asked you what you wanted to, letting you choose anything you wanted. And after thinking about it for a good ten minutes, you decided you wanted to stay at his apartment, order takeout, and watch Netflix all day. It would be a while before you got to do that with him, so you wanted to take advantage of it while you could.

You managed to watch two movies before ordering black bean noodles for lunch, and while you ate, Joo Hyuk brought up a conversation he’d been having with his boss over e-mail throughout the week.

“So that’s what you were doing on your phone all the time,” you teased. You hadn’t asked him about it because you figured it was probably work related.

“He said it would be very possible for me to transfer to an L.A. based company, and most likely they would be able to sponsor my Visa and get me a green card.”

“Oh, good,” you chuckled. “So we won’t have to do that 90-day fiancé thing.”

“I mean... we could.”

You froze, your smile falling. You’d been joking. Obviously. “I think... the job thing is your best option.”

“You don’t want to get married?”

“Not in 90 days!”

“Okay, so I won’t propose when I move in like I planned,” he said with a hidden smirk.

You pinched him, understanding now he was teasing you.

You spent the rest of the day cuddling, making out, and watching half a drama on Netflix. Though you talked more than you watched. You talked about your future plans, mostly, and you tried your best to map out a timeline. He would move in about two months once all the visa paperwork was processed, start his new job as soon as possible, and then hopefully you two could find a new, slightly bigger apartment in about a year.

“What about Disneyland?” Joo Hyuk inquired.

“What about Disneyland?”

“When can we go?”

“I mean, we can go whenever you want,” you answered.

“Can we get passes so we can go all the time?”

“Yes, we can,” you chuckled, tapping a finger on his nose. He was so adorable.

When you began to yawn around 10pm (even in Korea you had a bedtime, it seemed), Joo Hyuk reached for the remote and turned off the television. He stood, holding his hand out for you and helping you up off the couch.

Once you were all cuddled in bed, Joo Hyuk faced you, brushing your hair back from your forehead before kissing you there. “It’s a lot easier knowing I’ll be moving over there soon.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, tipping your chin in the slightest of nods. “I still don’t want to go back, though.”

“No?”

“What do I have to go back to? An empty apartment, a nice workload, and no Mickey.”

Joo Hyuk sighed, sliding his arm over your side and pulling you closer to him. “But not for long. At least the empty apartment part.”

“I know... but, still.”

“We went three months before, we can easily do two months now. I’ll still call you every day. I’ll video chat you every day to check up on you.”

You were tempted to tell him not to and he didn’t have to go to so much trouble, but... You knew it would be difficult to be by yourself. You would have the urge to go to the farm all the time, and it would probably take you a while before you got used to the fact you had no reason to go.

“Have I told you how thankful I am for you?” you said softly, bringing a hand up to rest on his cheek.

He simply kissed your nose in response, and you smiled like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“I’m very, very, very, very, very, very thankful. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through these past two weeks without you. And even though you didn’t have to fly all the way to California at the drop of a hat... I’m so grateful you did.”

“When I told you all those years ago I would’ve flown to California if I could have to give you a hug after your mom died, I really meant it. But I was 18 and broke. Now I’m actually capable of buying a plane ticket, and I didn’t want you to be alone. You didn’t need to be alone.”

You snuggled into his chest, letting out long, contented sigh as you felt his fingers begin to gently run up and down your back.

“I love you,” you murmured before you could fall asleep.

“I love you, too.”

Your goodbye at the airport the next morning was a lot less tearful than the last one. You still cried some, of course, because you were sad to be leaving both him and Korea. But the fact he would be moving to California permanently in just a couple months did wonders to ease your sorrow.

Your dad came to pick you up at the airport, and you hugged him sleepily, wishing he could carry you out to the car like he had when you were a kid.  You hadn’t gotten any sleep on the flight, and it was now basically the same time over here as it had been when you’d left Seoul. So you still had a whole day ahead of you.

You messaged Joo Hyuk as your dad pulled out of the parking lot, letting him know you had arrived safely. You figured he would be asleep by now, but he replied back almost immediately with a smiley face emoji and an ‘I love you.’

When your dad merged onto the highway, he cleared his throat. You had just closed your eyes, but the sound shook you back awake. “Mm?” you hummed.

“I, uh... The vet’s office called me while you were gone. They... I picked up the ashes.”

Your heart clenched, and you realized you had kind of forgotten about that.

“You don’t have to come pick them up until you’re ready,” he added quickly. “I’ll keep them for you.”

“Really?” you asked, feeling the tears pricking the back of your eyes.

“Of course, honey,” he said softly, reaching over to take your hand. “Take as much time as you need to grieve. And if you want to wait until Joo Hyuk comes back, that’s fine. I’ll keep them safe for as long as you need me to.”

It was then you realized, just like your personality was similar to Joo Hyuk’s mom’s, Joo Hyuk’s personality was similar to your dad’s. They were both incredibly kind and caring guys who would do anything for you. And you would do anything for them.

“Thanks, dad,” you sniffed. “You’re the best. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You would do just fine, my sweet girl,” he retorted, squeezing your hand. “Especially now you’ve got that handsome fella of yours.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes a little. No matter how wonderful he was, he was still a dad.

When Joo Hyuk called you later that afternoon, you had just woken up from a four-hour nap. So, naturally, you had no idea where you were or what year it was.

“Hello?” you slurred, pressing your phone to your ear.

“Did I wake you?” 

“Well, yeah, but...” You checked the time, your eyes widening slightly. “I’ve been asleep for four hours, apparently, so I probably needed to be woken up.”

“I forgot to warn you about the jet lag...” he chuckled. “How are you?”

“Besides extremely exhausted... I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well... except my dad told me he picked up Mickey’s ashes while I was gone.”

“Oh,” Joo Hyuk replied softly. “I’m sorry. Do you... know what you’re going to do with them?”

“Yeah, I just... don’t think I can do it alone. My dad said he would keep them as long as I needed him to, so... I’ll just wait until you get here.”

“Of course, baby. I would be honored to go with you.”

You smiled slightly, rolling onto your back and stretching. “How did you sleep?” you asked.

“Terribly,” he admitted with a sigh. “It’s crazy how quickly I got used to sleeping next to you.”

“Well, the cure for a bad night’s sleep is to get on a plane for half a day. You’ll sleep like a log after that, I’ll tell you what.”

He laughed, and your smile got even wider at the sound of it.

The next two months seemed to fly by, a fact for which you were extremely grateful. You found yourself wallowing several times, so the sooner Joo Hyuk got here, the better.

The day he told you he officially had his work visa, you video chatted him for over three hours. You ate a late dinner while he ate an early lunch, and you celebrated by eating dessert at the same time. He had purchased his plane ticket for exactly a week later, but you were very relieved to learn he had everything pretty much packed up already. He had sold all of his furniture and would be shipping some of his things a few days before he left, so he would only be bringing two suitcases with him. You applauded him, knowing full well you would never be able to move somewhere with just two suitcases.

You spent the week getting the apartment ready and, sadly, saying goodbye to your bed. Even though he hadn’t outwardly complained about it, you knew his height made it too uncomfortable for him to sleep in it. So you bought a new bed from Ikea, the largest size you could find so he would be sure to stretch his legs and still have room.

You also moved most of your clothes into the closet in your office so he could have enough space for his own wardrobe. You two would definitely need a bigger place eventually, but this would work for now. You just had to be very selective about any new clothes you purchased.

The day Joo Hyuk arrived, you hung up a ‘WELCOME HOME’ banner in your living room, and you even went to an International supermarket and bought Korean beer so you could celebrate his first night in his new place. In your place.

Your reunion at the airport was... actually the first normal, ‘run to him and jump into his arms’ kind of reunion you’d had so far. The first time you met, you had hugged, but it had been a little awkward. The second time you met, you’d collapsed into his arms sobbing. So this time, you made sure to kiss him long and hard, smiling against his lips and clinging to him tightly.

It took you guys a couple of days to get him completely unpacked, the things he’d shipped arriving the day after he did. And by the time the weekend rolled around, he was pretty much settled in.

So you decided it was time to finally say goodbye to Mickey.

You picked up his ashes before driving up to the farm. You, obviously, hadn’t been back since the day you’d found out, and you weren’t looking forward to seeing the stables where he should be. Where you still wanted him to be.

Even two and a half months later, you still missed him like crazy and sometimes forgot you would never see him again.

When you arrived at the farm, the owner was there to greet you, hugging you tightly and assuring you to take all the time you needed. And if you needed anything, you could just knock on the door and ask.

You and Joo Hyuk strolled across the field, stopping when you got to the stream which ran alongside your absolute favorite riding path. You’d walked and trotted along this stream so many times, you knew every twist and turn. And it eventually got to the point where you hadn’t even had to lead Mickey at all; he figured out where you wanted to go and just went there.

You’d had some of your happiest times here with him, so this was definitely where you wanted to remember him. He deserved to be remembered in such a beautiful, meaningful spot.

Tears streamed down your face as you opened the tin and poured his ashes into the water. You couldn’t say it out loud, but you said ‘goodbye’ in your heart. You knew Mickey was here right now, and you knew he could hear you.

Joo Hyuk kept his hand on your shoulder the whole time, squeezing it reassuringly and blinking back his own tears. He’d only met Mickey a few times, but he knew how much the horse had meant to you.

Joo Hyuk stopped for burgers and milkshakes on your way home, knowing you needed something to comfort you. When you saw he was pulling into the drive-thru, you furrowed your brow over at him. You hadn’t even asked him to stop and get something, and you hadn’t even known you’d needed comforting junk food until just now.

You had known this before, but this act cemented your thought: you were going to marry this guy. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and you loved him more than anything in the world.

The next few months were a bit of a struggle, but you figured it had to be a huge adjustment moving to a new country, starting a new job, and living with someone you’d only spent time with in person for a total of four weeks. 

It took Joo Hyuk a while to get used to life in America, especially the huge grocery stores and the wide varieties of food available. It took him a while to get used to working in a new office with new co-workers. It even took him a while to get used to living with a girl who regularly treated herself to spa nights and liked to spend an hour doing her makeup on the weekends.

But it was worth it, of course. And something which helped soften the blow tremendously?

Disneyland.

Within the first month of his move-in date, you had surprised him with annual passes to Disneyland. You made it a point to go about once a month, usually only spending one day there. Every once in a while you spent the night at an Airbnb close by, but only when you were both majorly stressed from work.

But then, when you were approaching the year anniversary of your first trip there together, Joo Hyuk revealed he had booked a room for you at the Grand Californian, the same place where you’d stayed.

You guys took your time that trip, wanting to simply soak it all in and enjoy every single moment there. You strolled all around the parks, riding only your favorite rides, eating only your favorite snacks, and taking way too many pictures.

On your last night there, you went to watch World of Color. Obviously! You stood as you usually did during nighttime shows, Joo Hyuk behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and you leaning back against his chest, holding onto his wrists.

You always cried during the romantic ending scene, the one where “So Close” from Enchanted played, and tonight was no different.

Well... except for one thing.

Joo Hyuk took one of his arms from around you, reached into his pocket, and then held out a ruby and diamond ring in front of you.

Your brow furrowed immediately, and you turned around to face him.

“Marry me,” he said softly, so only you two could hear.

A smile immediately came to your lips, tears already pooling in your eyes as you nodded wordlessly. He slipped the ring on your finger, and you practically jumped up to kiss him.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined this the day you’d gotten the brochure from your sixth-grade teacher. When you’d written out a letter to a pen pal you didn’t even know yet.

So much had happened to you since that day. So much heartbreak and loss, so much happiness and joy.

And you wouldn’t change any of it because it all led you to this moment.

Epilogue

Tagging @takura-rin , @sweg-imsorrywhatwasthat , @daelicious-jongbulge , @cramelot , and the anons who mentioned this!!! I love you all!

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

[latetothegreysparty]

Bedtime Part 3

I got an anonymous prompt requesting a third part to Bedtime. I didn’t have a whole lot to add, so this is kind of short. If you’d like to read parts 1 and 2, they can be found here and here, respectively.

Bedtime Part 3

With the house all cleaned up and the dishes put away, Meredith and Maggie decided to call it a night. “I’ll go shut off the porch light,” Meredith called as Maggie shut off the lights in the kitchen. Meredith returned from the porch a few moments later with a puzzled look on her face. “What is Owen’s truck still doing in front of the house?” she asked. “Didn’t he go home?”

Maggie’s eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe he carpooled home with Kepner and will come get his truck tomorrow?”

Meredith nodded slowly, not fully convinced. “Yeah, whatever, can you ask Amelia if she’s riding in tomorrow morning with the carpool?”

Maggie nodded as she began to climb the stairs. “Sure, I’ll pop into her room and ask her.”

Maggie jogged up the stairs and down the hall to Amelia’s door. Not even bothering to knock, she threw open the bedroom door. “Amelia, Meredith wants to know if you’re riding into-” Maggie stopped talking as she took in the sight in front of her. The room was lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on the night stand. Amelia lay on her stomach in bed, sleeping peacefully with her head resting on Owen’s chest. Her left arm was slung across his waist, and her left leg was tangled between his legs. Owen lay on his back underneath Amelia, his right arm wrapped protectively around her.

After taking a moment to smile at the adorable scene in front of her, Maggie crept quietly across the room to shut the lamp off before exiting the room and shutting the door. As she turned to walk back down the hall, she encountered Meredith. Maggie couldn’t keep the giant smile off her face as she addressed her sister. “I think I know why Owen’s truck is still out front.” When Meredith merely raised an eyebrow, Maggie continued her explanation. “He somehow ended up asleep in Amelia’s bed with her.”

Meredith scoffed. “Yeah, ‘somehow.’ I’m sure he just tripped and fell into bed with her and fell asleep before he could get up.”

Maggie chuckled as she turned to go to her own bedroom and call it a night.

-

Amelia awoke to the feeling of a large hand carding gently through her hair. For a moment, she was confused. Why was there a man in her bed? As she became a bit more aware, she recalled the previous evening’s events and smiled as she realized that the man was none other than Owen Hunt. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him that had come to feel like home, and then snuggled back into his chest.

Owen, however, had other plans. He used the hand in her hair to gently tilt her head up and then leaned down to whisper, “Good morning, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”

“Mmm, no,” she groaned, snuggling her face back into his chest.

“Yes, we need to get up and get going so we can be on time for work,” he replied, speaking a bit louder. When he received no response, he gently extricated himself from underneath her and stood up out of the bed, hoping she’d rise when she no longer had her cuddle buddy. He knew better, though. It was never that easy to get Amelia up in the morning. She merely snuggled down into the warm spot he’d left and wrapped herself in the blankets, smiling as she made a little cocoon for herself.

Owen reached down to run a hand down her back. “Come on, Amelia, let’s go. I’ll make you coffee.” No response. This called for more drastic measures. Owen grabbed the blankets firmly and pulled them back, ripping them from her grip and exposing her to the cold morning air.

“Owen, stop!” Amelia whined, pressing her face down into the pillow and wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm.

Owen rolled his eyes. “And here I thought the whining and pouting would stop after you got a good night’s sleep.” Yet again, no response from the woman working hard to continue to snuggle herself into the bed. Owen let out an exasperated sigh before crossing his arms and setting his jaw. “Amelia, get out of this bed right now or I’ll make you.” Yet again, she said nothing and didn’t move an inch. “Alright, fine, here we go,” he said before reaching down to roll her onto her back. He slid his left arm under her back and his right arm around her thighs and then scooped her out of the bed and threw her over his right shoulder and began walking across the room.

“Owen!” Amelia squealed from her perch atop his shoulder. “Put me down, you caveman.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, sliding her down off of his shoulder and onto the ground, “but start getting ready for the day.”

She leveled him with a glare before turning and walking out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. He let out a breath, thankful to have survived another morning of waking Amelia up, before crossing the room to search for the slacks he’d shed the night before.

A few minutes later, Owen descended the stairs and headed into the kitchen to begin making the coffee he’d promised Amelia. He was so caught up in his task that he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone in the room. As he reached into a cabinet to get two mugs, Maggie’s voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?” He was so startled by her voice that he dropped the second mug and proceeded to juggle it for a few moments before finally getting control of the drinkware and setting it down on the counter. By this point, a healthy blush adorned his cheeks.

“Um, yeah,” he spluttered, trying to find some non-awkward way to steer this conversation away from his sleeping arrangements last night. He looked up and made eye contact with Maggie, and his blush deepened as he saw her knowing smirk. His eyes went wide as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say to her.

He was saved by a smiling Amelia walking into the room. “Oh, leave him alone, Maggie. At least our sleeping arrangements didn’t affect anybody else’s sleep, unlike you last week when you brought home that Tinder date. I never got to ask you about that, by the way. Did that go well? I mean, it must’ve gone well with all those noises you were making. That man must have one talented mouth.”

Owen stood, frozen in his spot in front of the coffee maker with a mug in his hand, staring back and forth between the two women. Just as he felt certain this moment could not get any more uncomfortable, Meredith strode into the room to offer her commentary. “At least Maggie had the decency to get her freak on behind closed doors, Amelia. I seem to recall a time when you and Owen were doing the nasty in broad daylight on my couch while my children and I were walking through the entryway.”

Owen began to cough loudly as he set the mug back down onto the counter. “You know, on second thought, I think I’ll just head in now and grab a shower at the hospital,” he whispered, already walking quickly to the door, coffee now forgotten.

A blushing Amelia was hot on his tail, calling over her shoulder, “Yeah I think I’m going to join you.”

Meredith and Maggie waited for the door to slam shut before they both erupted into giggles.

[pinkrocketimagines]

British Puns and Greasy Hair : Final Chapter

(COLE SPROUSE X READER X TOM HOLLAND)

SUMMARY : (Y/N) finally decides which one she likes better- British puns or Greasy hair.

-

A/N:  I’ve only been on Tumblr for less than a month but it’s crazy how much support and love you’ve all given to my fanfics simply just by reading it- especially this one! I’m so grateful. You guys have made my summer really really productive, trust me! I love you guys so much! Do send me feedback , I just love love love reading your comments you have no idea ! I hope you enjoy reading this one just as much as I enjoyed writing it. So much love xx

-

You woke up to the sound of steady knocks at your door. Since you were in such a deep sleep, at first you thought you were just dreaming but after hearing your name being called out for the next 5 minutes, you realized it was all too real to ignore.

Groaning, you sleepily walked up to the door. The time was 4 am.

“Tom?”

Okay, ever since Tom joined Riverdale he has been disturbing your sleep a lot more than you would’ve liked. I mean, Tom is adorable and you may have a little puppy crush on him but hey, SLEEP is everything.

“Aww,” he chuckles at your sleepy face.

Combing your hair with his rough fingers, he instructs,”It’s a beautiful morning, I’d hate for it go to waste! Put something  on.Let’s go for a walk,”

“NO!” you try to shut your door  but his hand intervenes.” Oh Come on, Tom! It’s 4am. I’ll take the morning walk later,”

“No,” he retorts,”Either you’re coming with me now or I’m carrying you.”

You snicker at the last comment.

“Oh, you take me for a bluff, darling?” he attempts to carry you but you defend yourself. “Fine, fine, fine! Gosh, you’re so bossy sometimes,” you groan.

“You have 5 minutes, darling!”

Ugh, you can’t get mad at him even if you wanted to.

-

You succumbed to an oversized white shirt similar to what Tom was wearing and a cute pair of pastel pink shorts.

“Aw, look who’s stealing my style!”

“It has nothing to do with you, idiot”

“That’s what they always say,”

You roll your eyes. Why does he always have to pick on you?

Tom has his arms around you, as always, as you take a stroll along the coastline.

“This is nice,” you happily comment.

“Who?Me?”

“Not you, idiot. This walk. The island looks heavenly at this hour,”

And most certainly it does! The waves are mild. The birds tweet as they resort to the palm trees, the sand is not coarse and Tom..well, he looks ridiculously cute with his undone hair and his muscles all puffed out.

“Ah, that’s a nice spot!” Tom blurts as he quickly takes you by the hand and runs over to a corner with huge gigantic rocks.

You sit on the sand and lean against the giant rocks for support while Tom does the same. Blissful is the word.

“Come over here,” Tom puts his hand around you and makes you lean over to his shoulder. You’ve noticed how he always likes to get comfortable around you, or maybe with everyone else, you’re not sure.

You try your very best not to let the jitters and the butterflies in your stomach act out as you look over to the most stunning sunrise with Tom by your side.

“(Y/n)?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Did you really love Cole?”

You’re quite surprised at the sudden question about Cole. Although Tom and you has gotten quite close over the pass few weeks, he has never really touched the Cole topic.

“Hmmm,” you try to think of an answer,”I  guess I did. I mean, just because I don’t feel the same way anymore it would be unfair not to validate what I felt when I was, you know, young and completely in love.”

Tom quietly nods at your answer. “(Y/n)?” he calls you again.

“Uh-huh?”

“Do you think you could ever fall in love again?”

You give him an odd look,”Are you in love with me Mr. Holland?” before bursting into laughter.

“Bloody, I was just-“

You quickly get up and start yelling at the shore,”Tommy over here has a huge crush on (Y/n)!!”

“I DO NOT! Get back here, you!”

“Tommy has a huge crush on-“ you start running away from him and yelling at the same time while he chases you.

“Oho, you’re gonna regret that when I catch you,” he threatens as he takes off his shirt, revealing the heavenly body made by God himself, and runs over to you with the biggest grin on his face.

You laugh hysterically as you try to run and tease him at the same time.

“Tommy has a huuugggeee- eek!” you squeak as you feel his strong arms grab you by your waist from behind and swing you around.

“Tom!! Stop,” you try to sound assertive but you can’t control your giddiness as he continues to swing you by the waist.

He finally stops twirling you around, yet not letting go of your hand still.

 “Tom, you evil lit-“

He pulls you closer towards him. The distance between the two being infinitesimally small. You lose your breath for a second there as you realise he’s really shirtless and he’s really close!

“Tom, let me go!” you try not to sound nervous as he brings his face closer to yours.

“I told you you’d regret it,” he says in a low tone as he grabs your hand even tighter.

“T-Tom, I-I”

“Awww, look at this little puppy!” he loudly announces as he lets go of your hand, laughing hysterically at your face,”You should’ve seen your face!”

You hit his arm,”You’re so annoying, I’m leaving!”

You angrily stomp your feet as you walk away from a very amused Tom.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” He calls out.

“What?” you turn angrily.

“Maybe I do have a crush on you,” he winks.

-

Wrapping the second, and the last, day of the shooting in the island was very fulfilling. You had butterflies running in your stomach the entire day since 4am when Tom admitted that he does have the hots for you. He kept passing annoying cheeky comments during the entire shoot which made you pretend to be annoyed, when really you were just falling for this boy even more.

Just like the other night, you’re all gathered around the bonfire. And just like the other night, you’re cuddled next to Cami while Tom sat across you, next to Cole.

“Oh my god, I have an idea!” Cami excitedly yelps.

“What is-“

“Be right back!” she’s too excited for life. She quickly goes inside her hotel room and comes back with small crumbled sheets of paper.

“GUYS!GUYS!” she calls out. “Let’s play a game!”

Everybody quickly becomes silent and pays attention to Cam. “Okay?”

“So I’ve written some questions here in these sheets of paper. One by one, we’ll pick a sheet each and answer, no matter what it asks. Admit defeat and the person to your left gets all the authority to post anything on any of your social media accounts,”

Typical Cami.

The game does sound fun and enlightening but the defeat dare sounds terrible!

“I’m all in!” Tom excitedly agrees.

The rest of you weren’t too sure but Tom and Cami eventually managed to pull you all in.

“Okay, Tom pick one!” Cami instructs.

“What? Why do I have to go first?” Tom complains.

“Because it’s way past your bedtime, Tommy. Answer and go to bed!” you answer him earning yourself plus points for annoying Tom while everybody else laughs at him. “(Y/n), oh how you entice me!”

“So the question I got is, ‘ one word for each person in the circle under 30 seconds’.”

“Go!”

“Okay okay okay, wait,” Tom prepares himself.

“Cole, cool.

KJ, fit.

Lili, girl next door.

(Y/n), darling.

Cami, total bonkers.”

“Whoa, well done!” everybody applauses Tom for his quick response.

You gush at the sound of darling again while Tom secrely winks at you.

“Cole, you’re up next.” Cami instructs.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Cole takes his pick.

“Kiss the prettiest girl in the room,”

“Whoaaa,” everybody cooes. He got a good one!

“Do I really have to do this?” he nervously laughs.

“Or you could hand your phone to Tom,” Lili replies

Cole sighs. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Cole stands up. “Ohhh, he’s going for it!” KJ teases.

He slowly walks up towards Cami. Pauses. Leans over and places a small kiss on your cheek.

Ok, you did not see that one coming.

“WHOAAAA,” everybody cheers Cole as he happily goes back to his seat.

You try to force a smile but you can’t help but notice Tom’s glare. He didn’t look happy. He had an expression on his face which you couldn’t really read.

“Guys,” Tom stands up,”I think I have to call it a night”

Okay, That is so not Tom.

“Everything okay, mate?” KJ asks Tom.

“Ye-yeah, I’m tired. You guys carry on!” Tom blunty answers as he head towards his hotel room.

“Tom, wait!” You go after him. “Are you sure you’re o-okay?” 

I mean, you would’ve just let it go had he not looked so uncomfortable.

“Y-y-eah,” he tries to avoid your gaze as he spits,”I want to be alone, okay?”

“Tom,..” your voice softens as you try to reach out to him but he backs himself.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll see you later,” he hastily says before storming off.

The way he left made you feel some other kind of empty. Why was Tom acting that way? Was it because Cole kissed you? It was only a dare, right? There’s nothing to be mad about..

“Hey, (Y/n), everything okay?” you hear a voice from behind.

You turn around to find Cole himself.

You’re reluctant to answer. You want to tell him everything is okay and move on, but the 4am smile of a certain messy haired Londoner has you shook.

You’ve never been this scared to answer a simple two-worded question, because you know that once you tell him the answer it’ll all  be over. Everything with Cole will be over. Everything that has ever had anything to do with this raven-haired prankster with the amazing sense of humour will be over. Not that this answer has anything to do with Tom..or maybe it does, you’re not too sure.

 It’s like jumping off of a cliff all over again. But this time, you know someone will be there to catch you, and it’s all upto you just who.

You hold your heart together as you gather up all your guts and answer,”Cole, we need to talk.”

He looked frightened. Maybe he already knew what was coming.

You walk slowly towards the boy you once fell so deeply in love with. Although you’ve moved on, you still remember all that you once were.

You take his hand as he quietly watches, unsure of what to do or say.

“Cole, you asked me a question the other night.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Cole, you were the first guy who made me feel loved and sexy and beautiful. I know things weren’t always great but I still remember how things were  and how happy we were,” you take a small pause,”You made me the happiest girl for 2 years and for that I will forever be grateful to you,” you smile up at him lovingly as you hold back the tears in your eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this. For the first time, you’re putting yourself first.

Cole refuses to look at you as he tightens his grip on your hand.

“But,” you continue,”You broke my heart and I don’t think I could ever look at you without having all the flashbacks of the hell I went through. I still see good in you, trust me, you’ll always be important to me. But everything has changed. And maybe, for the first time, change is good.” You take a deep breath,”So what I’m trying to say is, no. My answer to your question is No. I’m sorry,”

You finally said it.

You thought he would’ve stormed off angrily by now, but he didn’t.

Cole looked up at you lovingly. You could easily tell how hard he was controlling his tears. One thing you knew about Cole, he was not a crier.

He forced a smile as he gently stroked the side of you face like he always used to,”(Y/n), you were the best thing that had ever happened to me and I’m grateful for all the times we shared together,” he turned away, he couldn’t bear to look at you knowing you’ll never be his anymore. “Tom is, Tom is a really lucky guy.”

“Cole, it’s not-“

“Can I atleast have a hug before this night ends?” he adorably questions, trying to lighten up the mood.

You smile weakly as you give him the longest,saddest,tightest hug.

“You have the biggest heart in the world,(Y/n). The biggest,” Cole whispers into your ear as he quickly breaks the hug and walks away.

And there you stood, idle as you watched your first love walk away. There you stood, confused , sad and empty but content.

-

With your heart so heavy and your mind so full, you decided to take a walk along the coastline all by yourself before going to bed. It has gotten quite dark now, the sand is more coarse than it was in the morning, the waves are a lot more rougher but the wind is calm and soothing. You sit yourself near the giant rock which Tom directed to you earlier today.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you try to relive the past few weeks. It has been a roller coaster of emotions. Good emotions.

How Tom just popped into your life out of nowhere and changed everything for better, or for worse. Lately, you’ve been drinking a lot of tea..for someone who refuses to have anything other than Lemonade. 

You can’t believe you just said no to the guy you were hopelessly in love with for 2 years. It’s strange how fast things change. Few months back, you couldn’t stand the thought of not being with Cole but here you are.

You smile to yourself as the thought of a cheeky brown-haired guy peeps into your mind. You know he’s not at his best mood now, maybe he’ll be okay in the morning. There’s just something about this guy. Maybe it’s his horrible attempts at making puns or the way he’s ridiculously good at everything, his messy hair or the way he says darling, there’s just something you can’t exactly pin point out but gosh, is there someth-

“(Y/n),” your reverie  gets interrupted by the sound of a very familiar voice.

You get back up and look around to find a messy haired, red-faced, shaken Tom.

“Tom,”

He quickly makes his way towards you and pulls you in for a really tight hug.

“I’m so-“ he tries to apologize.

“Shhh,” you retort silenty, “It’s okay, it’s all okay,” you whisper  as bury your head in his body while his strong, warm arms envelops you.

“(Y/n),” Tom slowly breaks the hug.  “I don’t know what got into me earlier, I-“

You cut him off, “It’s okay, Tom. Really, it’s fine.”

Tom pushes your hair aside to get a full glance of your face.

 “Look,(Y/n), all I know is that I didn’t like the feeling I got when I saw somebody else kiss my girl and I don’t want to have that feeling ever again, it makes me sick, it makes me-“

You cut him off again.

But this time, with a kiss.

You stand on your toes as you try to reach up to him and lay a soft subtle kiss on his lips. Tom quickly lifts you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. He deepens the kiss as wind cautiously blows your hair and the waves take turn to steal glances at their favourite couple.

“Tom,” you try to murmur whilst he’s still busy kissing you.

“Uh-huh,”

“The director said ‘Cut’”

“Wait, what?”

“GOT YOU!” you yelp as you laugh hysterically and run away from him. “Can’t believe you fell for that!”

Tom sighs in disbelief and runs after you as he warnes,”Come here, you! You’re going to regret this, darling.”

So I guess in the end, you did make up your mind.

British Puns and Greasy hair?

Na, just british puns please.

-

General Taglist ~ @xbobaaa  @riverdrew @dandelions-inthewind @ashleyykabob @bernaboredom  @thevioletmarkey @punkrockandchemicalx @acidbabytears @ceruleanjones  @riverdalemami @simbatastisc @caitsymichelle13 @allthelove-marz  @butterybra @margauxthemuse @tcmhollnd @desicookie @calums-band-tee @pinkglitterycactus @laa-rose @moonlight53 @oceantostars @jasmineeee85 @1022bridgetp @peachy-jordyn @prtmnstr @nano-fantasy @theweaknessstories  @castellagreen @louloudeug99 @tear-in-my-heart14  @imstillinlovewithyou  @flopmalum  @mypotronus @hehaditcoming @jugheadjonnes @satansconcubine @julesimba

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Collaborative Series?

Hi lovelies! This is aimed at my fellow writers out there. Feel free to spread it around to anyone you think might be interested. Now let’s get into this experiment:

UPDATE: We’ve already got several people signed up so no more for now! Depending on how this goes maybe I’ll try to do something else collab in the future :)

As many of you know, I love doing series. They’re fun, there’s more time to draw out stories and do world building, etc. Everyone loves a good series. Most writers I know on here also enjoy writing them.

Sometimes though series are just plain hard. Case in point, a little thing I’ve been working on for over a month now called “Since I’ve Been Loving You” is a cop!Dean x cop!reader series. It’s gone through one total rewrite and with some super helpful feedback from the ever so lovely beta @emilywritesaboutdean on the second go around, I decided this one could use some extra love. 

I like the first part and where I ended up with it so here’s what I’m proposing:

A collaborative series with myself and one (or more) of you! 

I wrote the first part. Someone else writes the second, someone else could write the third and so on depending on how many people could get involved. 

We could take turns or each just do one. We could work on the plot together or just throw the next person in line for a loop when they have to pick up where you left off. I’m pretty open as far as this goes as this is mostly an interest post for right now (we could work out the nitty gritty stuff if anyone decided they wanted to give it a shot). 

There’s only two requirements:

1. You can’t sign up and then go radio silent and never post. It’s happened to me in challenges before. I understand life happens and we’ll work around it if need be but please don’t sign up unless you’re willing to try to write in a timely manner (let’s say if you don’t think you could get your part together a month after the previous one posted as a cutoff point).

2. This is a cop!Dean x cop!reader au series. If AU’s aren’t your style, maybe this one isn’t for you.

We want to smut it up, fluff it up, darken it up, lighten it up, it’s all fair game. I’ve wanted to try a collab for awhile and I think this is a fun opportunity to get more involved with other writers since I’m pretty sucky at that.

Here’s a short teaser from the first part if you’re interested (I’m leaving out the ending on purpose though):

“How you holding up?” you asked, taking a spot at the end of the couch, throwing your feet up on the ottoman. You put a pillow down so Dean could rest his head against your leg comfortably in case he decided to go to sleep. You put a hand on his forehead and saw him curl into the touch.

“S’just a cold,” he said, turning on the TV. You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing on the rare occasion Dean was up for a cuddle, he liked to have it played with. But even in those moments where he let his walls down all the way, he didn’t talk about certain things. He barely spoke of when he was little. You knew his parents got divorced when he wasn’t very old and that he felt like it was his fault just from the way he talked but that’s who Dean was. A hard man that could be softer and sweeter than any you’d ever met.

“I think I’m ready,” you said, Dean humming before turning his head up to yours.

“Ready for what?” he asked, giving you a sleepy smile.

“It’s been almost four months since I left Redge. You got me back to normal again, feeling safe and strong and like I have a home here with my friend. But I’m ready to try something new if you get what I’m saying,” you said, Dean’s face turning sad.

“You want to move out? Did I do something wrong?” he asked. You shook your head and gave him a smile. “Was it because I told you I liked you back-”

“Dean, I like you too is what I’m trying to say. As in, I’m ready to try dating again…try dating you,” you said, ruffling his head. “We’ve been flirting for weeks. Want to actually give this a go?”

“Why would you ever want to date me?” he asked. God, he could be thick-headed sometimes.

“I like your sense of humor, your kindness, the way you help people. You got some comfy flannels too,” you said, Dean’s face softening. “I like you Dean.”

“Want to go on a date when I’m feeling better?” he asked. You nodded and bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek, Dean pushing you away. “I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“It’s just a cold I’ve been told,” you said, Dean laughing before pulling one of his arms free of his blanket and reaching over to hold yours. “I love when you’re all cuddly.”

“As your new boyfriend I’m going to start getting very cuddly,” he teased, letting out a big stretch and a yawn. “On second thought…”

“Bedtime?” you asked, helping him up. “You need anything come get me. I’ll be quiet and let you sleep in. There’s leftover stew in the fridge but I’ll come home at lunch and make you something to eat.”

If you want to give it a shot, let me know. I hope this sounds like something fun we can work on together!

*I’ll send out a post or message to those who’ve expressed interest soon so we can get this thing going*

Tagging people who might be interested/signal boost:

@xxwinchester-22xx @charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream@drugpug@darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis@tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia@demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr @cojootromuelle@gallifreyansass@fangirl1802 @itstheprincess@casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67@aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen@smacklesandstretch67 @ceeceewinchester

@tumblinwith-me @xfanqirlinq @heaven-is-aplaceonearthwithyou@hey-um-misha@bennyyh @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @lovelife-tothefullest @under-general-asthetics @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @missdestiel67 @evyiione@jensenackesl @xxxdevine-demonsxxx  @ayeeitsemry @mac5323 @atc74 @nanie5  @idalinette @quiddy-writes @sassyspn67 @pureawesomeness001  @poukothenerd@af112992 @mickey-m399 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester@mrswhozeewhatsis @upon-a-girl @amazinntay @akshi8278@baconlover001

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deanssweetheart23 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @percywinchester27 @supernatural-jackles@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @torn-and-frayed @arryn-nyxx @jayankles @emilywritesaboutdean @sofreddie

[initiala]

CS prompt: First sex after childbirth

I missed Storybrooke Downs. A lot. Also this went kinky. And super Real. If you aren’t comfortable with what probably falls under ‘erotic lactation’, then keep on scrolling.

And it’s pronounced “EE-fah” ;)

March 3, 2020

They wind up naming her for his mother.

Aoife Elizabeth Jones, dark of hair and strong of lungs, has his nose and her mother’s chin. Her eyes haven’t quite made up their mind on what color they want to be just yet and she spends an abnormal amount of time simply observing the world around her.

She’s been in his life for only a few short months, and yet he can hardly remember a time without her in it.

Emma’s been slow to get back on her feet, poor lass; her pregnancy had been a difficult one and a whole slew of postpartum difficulties had kept her down for much of the last few months. He’s tried not to hover, truly, but it wasn’t easy (still isn’t, sometimes) to see her lethargic and unable or unwilling to get out of bed some days. The crying jags were the worst of it: the mood swings he was used to, but seeing her still and sad and prone made his heart stutter and a sense of hypervigilance to take over. When Killian had decided to all but pass the reins, as it were, of the farm to Will while throwing himself headfirst into fatherhood and caring for his wife, she’d been able to get the necessary treatments to be well once more. It had been difficult to promote Will, to take a step back in the day-to-day affairs of the farm. But his family had supported his decision, encouraged it, and if he was honest with himself it was worth it to see the look of shock on Will’s face. And with his extra support of her at home, Emma began to improve, slowly returning to her old self once more.

Now, Killian leans against the door with his arms lightly folded across his chest, watching as Emma bounces Aoife gently, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she hums. He tries not to hover much these days, but it can be hard to shake the habit. And, if he’s honest, he’d rather not miss out on little moments like this. Emma’s not wearing a shirt, a sure sign that Aoife’s bedtime snack has just ended. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail and away from little fingers just learning to grasp with intent. There’s a burping cloth over her shoulder and the nightlight that sends stars and moons-shaped light across the walls is already turned on. The floor creaks as he steps into the nursery and Emma speaks quietly, without turning to look. “She’s almost asleep.”

He comes up behind them, loosely wrapping his arms around Emma’s waist and pressing a gentle kiss against Aoife’s crown. She fusses a little, her tiny fist clenching and relaxing as her face scrunches up in discontent. Killian chuckles. “Apologies, little love, Papa didn’t meant to disturb you.”

“You get to be on sleep duty if she doesn’t settle down,” Emma tells him as he reaches up to take the cloth and toss it into the washing pile.

But settle she does, as her parents sway and her mother starts humming again. Killian’s chin tucks up against Emma’s shoulder and he presses kisses against her skin. This is his favorite time of the day – the quiet moments before Aoife’s bedtime when she makes little cooing sounds as she falls asleep; when Emma, tired after a long day, leans into him a little more and allows him to set the pace of their gentle sway, rocking their daughter to sleep; when his whole world fits right here in the circle of his embrace.

He sticks close by as Emma lays Aoife in her crib. She fusses a little, her face scrunching up once more as she’s left to lay alone in her crib, and Killian can’t help but sympathize: between sleeping alone or cuddling with Emma, he’d choose the latter every time. They watch her settle for a moment before walking quietly towards the door. The moment they’re out of the nursery, the door left open just a bit, Killian sweeps Emma up in his arms, grinning at her surprised squeak. “What the hell?”

“Am I not allowed to spoil my wife?”

She glowers at him, but wraps her arms around his neck and if he isn’t mistaken (and he rarely is when it comes to her) there’s a small smile threatening to spread on her lips. “You spoil me plenty, I just can’t figure out the occasion.”

What little ire remains in her tone and face is rendered exponentially less threatening by her half-bare state. He carries her down the hall to their bedroom, bypasses the bed, and straight into the bathroom where he’s run her a hot bath. Her doctors have all told him that anything that can be done to ease her burdens (imagined or not) will help exponentially, and he’s taken to doing such things whenever the thought occurs to him; he also figures that little reminders of his love and care for her never hurts. He’s added some of those fizzy, scented, confetti configurations she’s grown to like, and lit a few candles and placed them around the rim. She inhales sharply at the sight, her arms tightening around his neck. “Oh, Killian.”

He sets her down, his hands lingering on her hips. He kisses her forehead, then both cheeks, watching the way her eyes close and smiling at how she leans into his touch. “The occasion is that I love you, that I can’t remember a time I’ve been happier, and that it’s entirely due to you that I feel this way.”

She ducks her head and he catches her smile before she tries to hide it. “That’s the sleep deprivation talking.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps you should also take advantage of it while I’m feeling charitable,” Killian teases.

She demures. “Seriously, Killian, I know I’ve been a pain in the ass and none of this has been easy. If anything, I need to be doing all this nice stuff for you, not the other way around.”

There’s an itch under his skin that he wouldn’t be able to scratch even if he wanted to remove his hands from her. His heart aches for her, his stubborn Swan; if it hadn’t been for the Nolans nagging her as much as he did himself, he’s not sure she would have accepted help for her problems. “Emma, you’re not a pain in my arse or anyone else’s. Aye, it’s not been easy, but this is how our partnership works. Even without the vows,” his hand finds hers, fingers running over the rings on her fingers, the ones she’d had to wear on a chain around her neck for months, the ones he’d sworn for better or for worse over, “I’d not want to be anywhere else but here by your side.” Her eyes are shining at this point, a watery smile on her lips, and he kisses her forehead. “Take your bath, sweetling, I’ll keep an ear out for the little one.”

Her hands catch his before he can pull away. “Stay? Er – you can join me? If you want to?” she asks and the hopeful look in her eyes makes his breath catch in his throat.

It’s been almost a year since they’d last lain together. She’d been a tempting sight for months, lovely and glowing as their child grew within her, but the difficulties with her health had prevented them from being able to indulge in their desires for one another – and God only knew how irritated Emma had been about that. He’d seen her phone’s calendar with certain dates marked for when she might be cleared for sex again. But that had changed after Aoife arrived in a whirlwind of long labor and eventual emergency C-section, and then the host of other issues Emma had to combat in recovery. He’d done his best to keep from causing his wife any unnecessary guilt or pressure, and truly her health matters more to him than anything else.

As she’d said it hasn’t been easy. None of it has. And while part of him really, truly misses his wife in the biblical sense, the rest of him prioritizes gratefulness for Emma’s returning health and happiness, and the health of their daughter.

Emma smiles as she searches his eyes. “I wouldn’t suggest it unless I felt ready,” she says, as if she’s reading his mind.

Some days he’s not so sure she can’t.

“I know, love, it’s just – you’re certain? Truly?”

She nods and slides his hands up to her bare ribs, her smile turning decidedly more devious as his breath catches. “It’s been way too long since we’ve done something like this together.”

She giggles at how quickly he divests himself of his clothing, her own strip out of her leggings and underwear much slower than his hurried flinging of garments this way and that. He’s not sure if his speed coming from his own fear that she’ll change her mind or that he’ll lose his nerve. (Maybe both. Maybe something else he can’t name.) He almost stumbles when she kicks her clothing aside, as agog as he’d been as a lad at his first sight of a woman bared. Her breasts and hips are fuller these days, and a thin red line scars her lower abdomen, but little else has changed; it’s only enhanced her natural beauty and he finds her as beautiful as she was the day they met almost six years ago.

The water is pleasantly warm as he steps in, easing the minor aches of the day as he sits down and holds out his hand to assist her. She fits easily between his legs, her back resting against his chest, and they share a sigh of content as she lays her head back against him and his arms envelop her. He turns into her a bit, breathes her in and grazes his lips against the shell of her ear; in a way it’s almost an extension of earlier, being pressed against her like this, but decidedly… more. It’s not her skin against his, not the way water clings to her skin, the ends of her hair as they sink down a little farther. It’s just — he feels closer to her like this, lighter and less anxious (because he’s always anxious, deep down, feels it flare up at each hiccup or setback, every bad day even after a string of seven good ones), and there is something about water that simply makes him feel… safe.

(Like he could drift, and not drown, and keep his love afloat with him.)

And, well, the view from here isn’t too bad, either, a fact his wife seems to know all too well if the stifled snicker she lets out is any indication. “I’d say my eyes are up here, but.”

Killian hums into her hair, drags his lips down her jaw and tries (fails, miserably) to hide his smile against her skin. “Lovely as they are, Swan, I can’t say I’m all that displeased to finally have these,” he murmurs, hands reaching up under the water to cup the underside of her breasts, a soft, gentle thing that has her breath hitching, “and you all to myself for a little while.” He can tell she’s smiling even without seeing her, can practically feel it rising up out of her chest and blossoming bright onto her face as he drops his lips to her shoulder.

“All I ask is for you to be gentle,” she says with a sigh, turning her head slightly to nestle against him better. “Your daughter doesn’t seem to understand the word just yet.”

Her skin feels like silk under his fingers as they glide down her stomach, coasting over new curves and scars. “Ah, so she’s my daughter when she’s misbehaving, is that how it is?”

“Absolutely.”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her temple, then her forehead. He skims down the length of her nose and captures her lips in a kiss. Emma sighs happily, opening for him immediately. Something about the glide of her tongue against his, coupled with the delightful way her arse wriggles against his cock, causes his restraint to snap. He groans, surging forward and causing the water to slosh noisily in the tub, turning her enough to better devour her mouth. She mewls into him, her hand slipping between them to grasp his cock. The feel of her nimble fingers on him after so many months without makes him shudder. He allows her a few pumps before taking her hand in his. “Need you,” she whispers against his lips.

“I know, pet, but if you don’t stop then it’ll be over all too soon,” he says.

She whines in protest, but soon they turn to whines of pleasure as he kisses her again. His tongue tangles with hers, his teeth scraping against her lower lips and sucking it into his mouth; he does so love the way her lips plump up, full and red, when he kisses her. He turns her back to their original position, keeping their left hands entwined as his right slides down her stomach to the thatch of hair between her legs.

God but she’s soft, softer than he remembers. There’s slickness between her folds that’s pure Emma and he slides two fingers into her pliant flesh with ease. She gasps into his mouth, her body arching as he begins a gentle thrust with his fingers. His thumb grazes the side of her clit in a pattern that alternates between rough and gentle, and judging by the way her hips cant against his hand, she likes it very much.

She turns her head, meeting his mouth with hers again. Her kisses are rough and demanding, more tooth than lip, and it awakens something darker, something greedier inside of him. He brings their hands to her breasts, kneading and massaging each in turn. Their fingers trace nonsense on her chest, on her stomach, trailing up and down and returning to tweak and tease her nipples at each pass. “More,” she demands, gasping the word between a kiss, and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

He slides in a third finger, stretching her, prepping her for later, and groans in unison with her as her walls squeeze him. “I can’t wait to feel you,” he tells her, surging forward to kiss her again. “Been so long – missed you –”

“‘M right here,” she says, her voice cracking as he puts more pressure on her clit. “God, Killian – close –” 

His eyes drop to her chest as her head falls back with a broken moan; there’s a flush creeping down her neck towards her lovely, full breasts. “Are you going to come for me?” he murmurs right behind her ear, kissing a sensitive spot along her hairline. “Look at you, all flushed and pink and wanton.”

Her breathless agreement has him quickening his pace, his thumb swiping her clit in rapid succession as he pumps his fingers into her. Her walls flutter around him, not quite at the peak of pleasure but well on the way there. He turns his attention to her ear, her neck, nibbling and sucking little red marks into her skin, relishing in her gasps at each addition. She’s starting to shudder, and his lips find her ear, his voice dropping to a growl, “My needy, greedy wife.”

At the word wife, Emma tenses, her cries filling their small bathroom as her body convulses around him. If his eyes weren’t trained on the way her breasts pinked up from pleasure, he’s sure to have missed the liquid leaking from her nipples.

That’s interesting.

She relaxes as he withdraws his fingers, pressing a few kisses along her neck and shoulder while pondering this new discovery. Sure, there’d been all sorts of cautionary details in their numerous baby books about milk leaking out when the baby cries, but unless he’s going quite deaf (she’d been loud, but not that loud) that’s not the case here. He leans back, sliding them both down into the water a little more as his hand rests lightly on her thigh. Her grip on his other hand loosens and he flexes his fingers slightly to bring the feeling back into them. After another long minute, she exhales slowly. “Hand me the soap?” Emma asks quietly, reaching for a washcloth.

He obliges, hardly noticing at how quickly and efficiently she scrubs herself, rationalizing it at how she must be in a hurry to get to the bedroom. He does get to fix her ponytail for her, tucking it up into a bun so it doesn’t get soapy as well as wet at the ends, but she hardly swipes at her back where she can reach with the cloth before she’s rinsing off. “I’ll clean up in here,” he tells her, kissing her wet shoulder. “Go dry off, I’ll be with you in a mo’.”

She hums, her tone noncommittal, and gets to her feet. He’s treated to a lovely view of her backside while she reaches for a towel, but she steps out and away before he can tease her with his hand.

He gives himself a brief scrub and rinse before opening the drain, grabbing his own towel and slinging it around his shoulders before blowing out the candles. It’s only when he’s emerged from the bathroom and toweling himself dry, the simmering smell of smoke still lingering in his nose, that Killian really takes note of Emma in the aftermath of that little incident. She’s standing idly next to their dresser, hair tugged out of the bun he’d crafted for her as she towels the damp ends dry and she is, much to his surprise and dismay, wearing a robe.

That’s… decidedly rather against what he’d been hoping for — what he’d been expecting, really.

But she looks… almost churlish, his Swan, brow furrowed and lips thinned into a line. Any traces of that lovely little high she’d experienced at his hands seem virtually non-existent now and that — that just won’t do. Anxiety flares briefly under his breastbone as he wonders what he could have possibly done to cause such a pivot in her mood, but he does his best to stamp it down. After another moment’s consideration he crosses the room toward her, towel still grasped in hand as he steps just outside of her space, hovering just around the edges. “Emma?” he prompts. “What —”

“Nothing,” she says, a short, clipped thing that doesn’t bear much heat. The flare in temper evaporates as quickly as it had appeared, and at the breath she lets out the room suddenly feels unusually empty. Her shoulders sag slightly. “Can we just… not? I really don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” he asks, but she’s already out of the conversation, pressing her towel against his chest as brushes past him quickly, deliberately avoiding his gaze. It’s his turn for his brow to furrow but he turns toward her again with put-upon ease, intent on finding out what’s bothering her. He falters, though, over the first question that might have followed when he sees the way she nearly throws herself onto the bed with a disgruntled huff and draws her knees up toward her chest, face turning toward one of the plumper (his) pillows.

The arousal he’d felt earlier has completely disappeared by now, quickly consumed by confusion and worry. It’s been ages since he’s seen her so defensive, her walls and her armor long since shed, but she curls in on herself ever so slightly even as he sits on the edge of the bed to try and talk. His pulse hammers in his throat; it feels paper dry and his voice feels very small as he asks, “Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes flick up to his, the lines between her brows vanishing as her gaze softens. “No,” she says, the honesty plain on her face. “No, Killian, it wasn’t… it’s not you.”

Killian drapes the towel over his hips for modesty’s sake as he stretches out on the bed next to her. He believes her (she’s a terrible liar, he always could read her like a book) but the anxiety gnawing at his insides makes him ask, “Are you certain?”

She reaches across the gap between them and he takes the offered hand, lacing their fingers together. She looks tired, drawn, the circles under her eyes not entirely from the little sleep Aoife allows them. As much as he’s been able to do for her, it pains him that he cannot relieve all of the burdens that weigh her down, that catch her off guard when she’s unawares. “It’s everything I’ve been missing,” Emma says. “Well, almost.” The faint smile on her lips brings one out on his own face. “But the—the thing. I knew it was a possibility, but I wasn’t really expecting it? And it…”

He’s about to ask for clarification, but she’s frowning down towards her chest, red flags burning on her cheeks, and he’s struck with understanding. “Emma, that wasn’t at all odd.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of embarrassing. And weird. And it ruined the mood.”

He waits until she’s out of qualifiers before reaching for her and pulling her close. She stiffens briefly, but she inhales and then buries her nose in his chest and relaxes against him. Killian feels the anxiety easing off at her touch, resting his chin on the top of her head. “First, it did not ruin the mood.”

“You were all distracted after it happened.”

“Yes, but not because I was thinking ‘goodness, Emma’s breasts are disgusting, producing the very thing that keeps our child alive at what may not be the most opportune moment’.” She snorts at that and he smiles. “I was thinking ‘that’s very interesting, how quickly can I get her to do that again and will it disgust her if I wanted to taste?’”

Emma jerks back, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“So it does disgust you?”

She chews on her bottom lip, looking uncertain. “Well, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever thought you’d want to, so I guess it never crossed my mind.“

He shrugs. “It’s not like I’d thought of it before now either, but I have to admit I’m curious now. Aren’t you?”

She makes a face, shaking her head, and he supposes everyone has their limits. He strokes her back, soothing circles. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he says quietly.

“Don’t,” she replies, just as quiet. “I should have expected them to leak.”

“There’s no way you’d have known it would make you feel this way, though.”

“I just don’t like not being in control of my own body,” Emma admits. Her breath hitches and Killian stills, feeling that this is about a lot more than leaking breast milk. “Everything over the past year… I love Aoife and I’m glad we have her, but… I don’t like feeling like this.” She sniffles and he pulls her in even closer. “First all the crap with my body changing and then every goddamn scare and bed rest and my hormones all over the place and now this… I seriously don’t know how you haven’t run for the fucking hills at this point. God knows I want to leave me behind.”

He doesn’t know what to say, but he knows enough from his own experiences that just letting her get it all out there can be enough; he might not have to say anything. There’s another moment of silence and then she laughs wetly. “God, first I throw myself at you and now I’m a crying mess, talking about what a terrible mom I am. I’m a fucking trainwreck.”

However, he has his limits, and letting her beat herself up over something like this is one of them. “No, love,” he says, urging her to look at him. He wipes some stray tears from her cheeks. “You’re my same, beautiful Swan. We made promises to each other, you remember? No secrets, no hiding anything, just you and me. After everything we’ve been through, you truly think I’d want to leave when things got hard? I love you far, far too much for that.” She’s quiet and watches him with those big, sad eyes. “And you, my own sweet lass, are far from a terrible mother. I know this hasn’t been easy on you, and I know that you know it’s okay that you aren’t bouncing back so quickly. But you’re fighting, love, and that’s what matters.”

He holds her close as she breaks a little, soothing her with soft words and light touches. This is not something he’s unused to, more mood swings and tears, and it kills him to be unable to do anything but be there to hold her and let her work it out; he’ll have to convince her in the morning to make another appointment with her doctor, but perhaps if she’s being so insightful about how she’s feeling it won’t be the wheedling and pleading it normally is.

When she stills and her breathing evens out, Killian gently untangles himself from her. “Let me hang up the towels and put something on, we’ll turn in early, aye?”

She’s so quiet that he thinks she must have fallen asleep. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and gets up, heading to the bathroom with both towels in hand. The evening’s gone down several extremely unexpected avenues and Killian suddenly finds himself exhausted; guilt pinches in his gut – it’s not as if he’s the one going through these severe mood swings, he’s just along for the ride – but weariness drags at his bones regardless. He braces himself on the sink with one hand, scrubbing his face with the other.

Perhaps Emma’s not the only one who needs to call their doctor in the morning.

Picking up his pyjama pants from where they’re slung over a clothes rack, he heads back into the bedroom, then stops short.

Emma’s ditched her robe, lounging enticingly across their bed.

Killlian’s chest feels tight and he knows he’s failing from going slack-jawed. Emma’s mouth curls into a delightfully devious smile as she takes him in. “Cat got your tongue?” she asks.

Actually, his head’s spinning from how quickly things are changing, but he shakes his head and climbs onto the bed next to her. “A bit confused, but never speechless,” he tells her. “Regardless of how stunning you are.”

Her hand splays across his chest. Her face is a little puffy and her eyes are still a little red, but her breathing’s steady and her gaze is sure. “Look, I know I’m being a crazy person today, but I started something earlier and I damn well intend to finish it,” she explains. “And before you start, I’m positive it’s okay. I love you, I want to do this, and I want to do this with you.”

“Not your other husband?” Killian asks and she smacks him lightly, giving him a look.

“Killian, you’re being super great about all of this and I’m grateful for it. And I know, I know, vows and promises, but it still means a lot to me that you actually hold yourself accountable for all of that. So let me make love to my damn husband for the first time in forever, okay?”

“Twist my arm a little,” he says, and she takes his wrist, struggling to twist it behind his back as he chuckled. “Alright, love, if you’re sure, then I submit myself to your carnal desires.”

She rolls her eyes, then pushes him onto his back. “You’re so dramatic.” He opens his mouth and she promptly covers it with one hand. “Not a word, buster, or I’ll edge you for an hour.”

Killian’s not sure he’d be able to last that long and Emma has to know that, but he nods anyway. She replaces her hand with her mouth, kissing him deeply. He can’t help the groan that slips out as her tongue slips between his lips. He feels her climb on top of him, her weight a welcome presence on top of his body. Her hands wander, sliding up and down his arms, his chest, reaching behind her to play with the hairs at the base of his cock. He’s rapidly growing hard again, any lingering worries washing away under waves of lust and love for this woman –  his wife – currently trying to kill him with her bare hands.

She rolls them, mumbling, “You’re on top but I’m in charge,” against his lips. He can only moan an affirmative, his lips too busy being sucked and nibbled on to be used for much else.

He pushes her hands away from their exploration, feeling certain that even a light breeze could set him off at this point. He sinks his teeth into her lip and she groans, a throaty thing dripping with lust, before he dips his head down lower. Killian nips at her collarbones and makes his way down between the valley of her breasts, intent on tasting her core, but her hand in his hair stops him. “I thought you wanted to try something,” she says, guiding him towards her left breast.

“I thought you weren’t comfortable with it?”

She shrugs a little. “Can’t know for sure if you don’t try, right?”

Killian meets her eyes and she nods, ever so slightly. He smiles and runs his nose along the curve of her breast, noting not for the first time how much firmer, how much fuller it is. He draws lazy circles with his tongue, meandering his way to her peak, mindful of her whispered “Gentle” before wrapping his lips around her nipple.

He nails dig into his scalp and he eases off the pressure. He listens to the way she gasps, moans, or whines, switching up ministrations and how hard he sucks depending on her reaction. Some milk does leak out, just a little, and Killian hums in surprise. “What?” Emma asks, her voice thick.

“It’s sweet,” he mumbles, kissing the side of her breast before moving to the other, neglected one. “Like… that vanilla coffee creamer you buy me.”

“Oh my God.”

“You asked,” he tells her before getting to work on her other breast.

There’s nothing to taste but her skin this time, and how much pressure and what kind he puts on her doesn’t seem to matter as much as it did before. When she tugs on his hair, he starts to move towards her sex, thinking that’s what she wants next. She doesn’t let him go down on her, though; he does whine rather pitifully about it, giving her a full pout, but she only glares at him, reminding him that she’s in charge tonight. Instead, she rolls them once more so that his head is nestled between their pillows and slides down the length of his body. Hurriedly, Killian shoves a pillow under his head so he can watch, his breathing growing shallower and quicker as Emma’s hand wraps around the base of his cock and her tongue flicks out to taste the tip.

It takes every ounce of his willpower not to come immediately as she wraps her lips around him. He grasps at the sheets, at the pillows, at her hair – he can’t seem to keep still, even as she lays her arm hard across his hips to keep him from thrusting too deeply down her throat. After a few moments, she lets him go, reaching down between her legs. “You like this?” Killian rasps.

She nods, his cock not leaving her mouth; she brings her hand back up and smears her own wetness around his length, tasting them both the next time she bobs her head. He groans deep at the sight, babbling as she alternates licking and sucking him. “Turns you on, doesn’t it? Having a cock in your mouth, it makes you so fucking wet–” 

Her cheeks hollow out when she pulls away, cutting off any more words and drawing a long, throaty groan from him – he’s so close, he’s gonna –

She stops and he almost snarls in frustration; this must be how she feels when he teases her.

“Do you want to come or do you want to fuck me?” Emma asks idly, still stroking him lightly.

He notices she’s got her other hand between her legs again. His cock twitches, watching her pleasure them both at once.“Both,” he says, trying to catch his breath.

She smiles, then does the cruelest possible thing by letting him go. He watches her as she reaches into their bedside stand, pulling out tissues and a bottle of lube. “Just to be safe,” she says at his inquiring look.

She’s using the warming kind, he discovers, sending tingling pleasure all the way down to the tips of his toes as she strokes him and makes sure every inch of his cock is coated in the stuff. He grips her hips as she straddles him, positioning him at her entrance, and slowly sinks down.

Neither of them breathe for a long moment, the seconds ticking by as she takes him in inch by agonizing inch. He feels her tense up and as distracted as he is by how wonderful and warm and soft she feels, he still tries to get her to relax, gently rubbing her thighs and her backside, wherever he can reach. “Alright there, love?” he asks through gritted teeth.

She nods, but her face says otherwise. “Just – give me a minute to adjust. You’re big.”

In another circumstance he may have gloated at that admission, but for now he just felt too overwhelmed and elated at being seated within her again. He forced himself to breathe normally, for his hips to remain still, for his wilder urges to have, take, possess to settle down and let her set their pace. His hands continued to roam and soothe, and soon Emma’s hands were stroking his chest in return. He ventures a smile and she returns it, wiggling a little in place to see if it hurt; judging by the way her face brightens, it doesn’t, but it’s another cruel trick and one that Killian has difficulty restraining himself from reacting to.

Something must show on his face, though, because Emma giggles and it’s that more than anything that sets a soothing balm on his heart. “All right, I’ll have mercy on you,” she says.

He opens his mouth to respond, but she rocks forward and all coherent thought flies out of his head. The only things running through his mind is God yes, harder, so soft, so warm, so wet, harder Emma, and some of those things he’s not entirely unsure he hasn’t said out loud. Her mouth finds his several times, biting and nipping and kissing, and her nails run in progressively harder lines down his sides, but despite all of her attention he’s trying his very hardest not to come before she does.

She takes one of his hands in hers and guides it to her clit, her fingers staying with his as they rub circles around her sensitive nub. Killian pushes himself up on his elbow, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up hard into her core. Emma rakes her fingers through his hair, anchoring her hand in the short hairs at the nape of his neck as her breath hitches. His thrusts turn wilder as soft pleas escape her lips, “Please, Killian, let me come, come for me,” and he loses whatever rational thought is left to him as he chases their highs.

It gets sloppier with Emma bouncing in his lap, but she’s trying to meet him thrust for thrust. He’s damned if he comes before she does, but it’ll be a near thing –

She squeezes him once, twice, and white heat courses through him, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep into her womb. Emma’s cries are faint after the roaring in his own ears, but he feels her sex rippling and constricting around him, milking him for every drop of seed he’s got. There’s dampness on his chest, and as he regains sense, he looks down, seeing several pale droplets sprayed across his dark hair that must have come from her breasts. Emma’s cheeks are red again, likely not entirely from her own orgasm, and Killian surges forward, cupping her face with one hand as he kisses her. “You were magnificent,” he mumbles between kisses.

She holds him tight, wriggling delightfully in his lap and causing them both to groan over too much stimulation, peppering his face in kisses. “You weren’t half bad yourself – you’re getting us both messy.”

“Should probably take a shower.”

“Yeah, probably.”

But neither make the effort to move, too sated and relieved and eager to have this renewed closeness, instead falling back on the bed in favor of trading more kisses. It’s only when he feels his cock has gone too soft that he urges Emma off of him, not wanting to hurt either of them and cause another lengthy separation. She keeps rolling, right to the edge of the bed and then to her feet, beckoning him to the shower with a sly smile he hasn’t seen in far, far too long. As helpless to her wiles as a sailor is to a siren, Killian gets up with a groan, muscles that haven’t been used in far too long protesting the movement. He follows her into the shower, where he proceeds to not only clean them both thoroughly, but gets her a little dirty again by fingering her one more time; this time he holds her up, with one of her legs lifted up onto the soap dish so she’s spread nice and wide for him. She’s almost dead weight when it’s over, her legs useless and she’s more than willing to let him carry her back to bed after they dry off. Her cries of pleasure echoing off the tiles stay in his mind, the most delightful lullaby to soothe him into sleep later, Emma curled in his arms.

When Aoife wakes them a few hours later for her midnight feeding, Killian gently urges Emma back to bed. “I’ve got her, sweet, rest.”

“Have I mentioned I love you?” she mumbles, pilfering his pillow.

“A few times.” He kisses her brow, then leaves her reluctantly. He heads into the nursery, gathering a sobbing Aoife into his arms and bouncing her gently, gently shushing her as he takes her down into the kitchen. Movement always helps, and her sobs quiet into whining hiccups as Killian goes about the process of warming a bottle. “There, there, little love, Papa’s got you. There’s a lass, we don’t want to wake your mother.”

“Even if she’s still awake?”

Killian turns; Emma’s wearing her robe, leaning against the doorway, smiling at them both sleepily. “Love, I told you to go back to bed.”

“I know. I just… wanted to be with my family.”

She tests the bottle for him, then lets him hold it while Aoife drinks greedily. Emma tucks herself against Killian’s side and for the second time that night, he finds himself thinking that this is his favorite place to be: when the whole world fits in the circle of his embrace, all three of them sleepy, content, and together.