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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

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The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

#critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #una #trinket #please reblog and comment!

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

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Hey, everyone! I’ve been saying for a bit I want to get some fics from prompts I’ve written onto AO3 but...it’s so hard...ok it’s not hard, Executive Dysfunction is just kicking my butt. I’m going to post some of them to Tumblr today. If you want to help these babies get on AO3, they need: titles, tags, you pestering me in the comments. If you don’t think they’re good enough for AO3 - fair enough, just hit the little heart if they make you smile!

Prompt: Aziraphale reading to Crowley

(Requested by @zadusk and @lyricwritesprose)

“Sorry, can’t help you,” the innkeeper said, “just rented out our last room.”

“What?” Crowley crossed his arms, huffing through his nose. This was Bethlehem all over again. “This town is in the middle of nowhere, it has three inns, how can they all be sold out?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” The innkeeper shut the ledger. “Everyone’s headed down to London, and we’re on the way. Now. I can offer you a hot meal, and for, let’s say, half the price of a room you can sleep in the stables. The hay loft is clean, apart from the mice—”

“Stablesss!” Crowley hissed, slapping his hand on the counter. “Do I look like someone who sleeps in stables?”

The innkeeper didn’t appear remotely impressed. “You look like someone who is going to be sleeping in a hedge. Looks like a storm tonight. Good evening.” And he spun away, calling out to the cook in the back room.

“Oi!” Crowley shouted. “Get back here, you—!”

“Crowley! Whatever are you doing here?” The familiar voice was half delighted, half scolding. Aziraphale appeared beside him, same white suit as the last time they’d met, top hat tucked under his arm. “I thought I made it clear we shouldn’t see each other so often. Since I opened the shop, it’s been—”

“Yes, I know.” Crowley waved a hand and turned away. “I’m not here for you, Angel, I have actual business in York.”

“Really?” Despite his words, Aziraphale trailed behind him. “How interesting. I’m just returning from York – oh, no, you don’t think they’ve sent you to undo all my work again, do you?”

Crowley snorted. “No bet.” He dropped his voice into a low whisper. “This is why we need to meet up more often. Look at all this time we’re wasting! And now I have to march through the bloody night in the rain because there’s no place to sleep—”

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t dream of it. You can share my room.”

“Ngk?!” Crowley’s brain crashed into his skull with all the speed and grace of a train wreck. “Mf. Yk. No I can’t – Aziraphale!”

“Oh, my word – obviously, I’m not planning – that!” His voice dropped even lower and he tugged on Crowley’s elbow. “Don’t be crude, dear fellow. I have a room with a bed that I’m not intending to use. You can have it. I just need a chair to sit in while I read.”

“Jgk.” Crowley turned away, taking a deep breath through his nose. It made sense. He could sleep. Aziraphale could read. No getting soaked, or lost in the dark, or needing to fight off highwaymen or anything of the sort. “Fffine. We can. Er. Do that.”

“Jolly good.” He could practically hear the angel straightening his waistcoat. “Now that’s settled. I’ve already had my supper and was about to head up. Unless you’re hungry—”

“No, no, now is fine.” He still couldn’t quite meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Lead the way.”

The room, it turned out, was nearly as advertised.

A double-sized bed with a straw-tick and a quilt. A little stand with a pitcher of water and bowl for washing up. Windows that could be tightly shuttered to block out some of the city noise.

The only thing missing, really, was the chair.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s fingers tapped on his book and he glanced around, as if a seat might be hiding in the corner. “Well, er…”

“It’s fine. I can leave.” Crowley turned on his heel and reached for the latch.

“Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it. You get settled and I’ll – ah – I’ll miracle in a chair.” He peered around the narrow room. “Somewhere.”

“Look, I can—”

“No. Miracle yourself a nightgown or whatever it is you need.”

“I—”

“Hush!”

Resigning himself, Crowley waved his clothes into something more comfortable for sleeping and crawled under the blanket. It was…slightly better than sleeping in the stables, he supposed. The straw was lumpy and the sheet covering it coarse, but the pillow was well-stuffed with goose-down, a luxury he could get used to. He shifted onto his back, trying to find a comfortable angle.

Instead, he found Aziraphale, standing beside the bed, staring blankly at the wall. “There…well…it would appear there isn’t room for a chair,” he confessed. “Not one that will fit my, er…my current corporation comfortably, that is.”

Crowley looked at the ceiling. He could sleep up there, but it would mean abandoning the pillow. Or. Or.

“Look, Angel,” he said as casually as he could. You can, um, you can sit on the bed. I’m not going to be offended or anything. It’s fine.”

“No, I couldn’t – couldn’t possibly—”

“Aziraphale. It’s really fine.”

The quilt tugged, folded back, and with a rustle of straw Aziraphale settled into the mattress. He sat straight, stiff, and so close to the edge he might topple off.

Even so, he was alarmingly close.

“You, um. You need the candle?”

“No, my own light will be sufficient, thank you.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” Crowley tossed his glasses onto the little table and waved a finger at the candle, which immediately snuffed out, leaving the room dark except for the soft glow of Aziraphale, gently illuminating his book.

Crowley closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep.

He turned onto one side. No good, too close to the edge.

He turned the other way, or started to, freezing when he felt how close the angel’s warmth was.

Then he lay on his back again. The whole room fell very, very still.

“Bless it, Aziraphale, will you relax?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I can practically hear your muscles creaking. How am I supposed to all asleep with all that – that tension barely six inches away!”

“I don’t know what you might be referring to. I am – am perfectly relaxed here, reading my book and you – you interrupt with these – these pointless accusations.”

Crowley gave up and turned on his side, facing Aziraphale, giving him as hard a stare as he could manage. “Your book is upside down, Angel.”

“Is it?” He swallowed. “I mean, of course it is. I am training myself to read upside-down text, a highly useful skill, which I’m sure—”

Crowley shut his eyes. “This was a terrible idea.” He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Look, Aziraphale, neither of us is actually comfortable with this. So I’m just going to head out. If I leave now, I might make it to the next town before the rain starts, and maybe they’ll have a room. You can have this one and—”

“Crowley,” he said, voice much softer than expected. “My dear fellow. I won’t be able to relax knowing you’re out there. I know you won’t be in – in any real danger but…I would rather know that you’re safe.”

He stared ahead, sitting perfectly still in the way that only beings who aren’t really alive can – no breath, no heartbeat, no tiny motions.

Then, slowly, Crowley pulled his legs back under the quilt and lay on his back.

“What’s this book about, anyway?” he asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“It’ll help. Trust me. What is it – poetry? Ancient epics about glorious wars? Not Hamlet again, I hope, that play is a gloomy mess of—”

“No, nothing of the sort. It’s…well, it’s a sort of love story.”

That didn’t sound too bad. “Sort of?”

“Well, yes, it’s more a – a study of the manners and traditions of courtship. Our heroine is the second of five sisters, and there’s a great deal riding on finding them suitable husbands, but her choices are, well…not especially appealing.”

“Does she tell them to go jump in a lake?”

“Not in so many words,” Aziraphale said disapprovingly. “But yes, she has so far turned down two proposals quite bitingly. Although I think she was a bit hasty in her judgement of one of the young men.”

“I like it.” Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, and found the angel had relaxed, and moved just a little closer. “What’s it called, anyway?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” His fingers tapped against it. “Just released last year. I must try and find the author’s other work when I finish.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me how it ends.”

“Oh, are you…interested?”

“Hmm,” Crowley settled his head a little further into the pillow. “I do like a good drawing room drama. Perhaps I should pick out a few dresses and spend a year or two back in those circles.”

“As I recall, you were always deceitful and wicked and caused many a scandal.”

“I should hope so. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Aziraphale smiled down at him, and it made Crowley feel light-headed in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. “Then I imagine you’ll be brilliant at it.” He suddenly turned away, looking at the shuttered window. “Oh! Do you hear that? The rain has started.” The first drops were tapping against the shutters fitfully.

“Good thing I didn’t go out.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale looked at the book again. “Er, would you like me to…to read it to you? Just the first part, until you fall asleep.”

“I…” Crowley cleared his throat. “Yeah. I mean, your voice puts me to sleep half the time anyway, so…”

“Oh, yes, absolutely wonderful. Let me just get the first volume.” He hopped out of bed and hurried over to his jacket, rummaging in the pocket to pull out another hardcover book. When he returned to the bed, it was with almost no self-consciousness, wriggling comfortably against his pillow only a few inches away from Crowley.

“Now, let’s see…yes, here. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…’”

It was strange, seeing the angel from this angle, round face slightly lit by his own glow, little smile curving up his lips as the words bubbled out excitedly. His voice rose and fell as he read, trying to paint a picture of Longbourne and Netherfield and the lives of the Bennet sisters. Crowley could get used to it, the look, the sound, the soft familiarity of it all. Not that he was likely to have an opportunity.

He didn’t close his eyes. Not yet.

“‘But I can assure you,’ she added,” Aziraphale was quite enjoying the voice he had chosen for Mrs. Bennet, raising it now in slightly erratic excitement. “‘that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing.’” He shifted again, raising his arm to better articulate the dialogue. “‘So high and so conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with!’” He dropped his voice into a vicious hiss. “‘I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set downs. I quite detest the man.’”

He glanced to his left, grinning, hoping to see Crowley’s reaction to his bit of acting, but the demon had at some point fallen asleep. He lay half on his back, still facing Aziraphale, shock of red hair across the white pillow. His mouth hung slightly open and something emerged that was almost a snore, but rather too small to really qualify. It was drowned out by the wind and rain outside, rattling the shutters. Now and then, in the distance, thunder rumbled.

“Well. I suppose…yes, you sleep now.” Aziraphale turned to put the book down, thinking to find the second volume and pick up where he’d left off.

“Nf.” Crowley turned onto his side, one arm flinging out towards Aziraphale’s waist. “D’n stp,” he mumbled. “Jus’ gettn gud.”

“Er, are you…awake?” The arm tightened slightly, and Crowley pulled closer, pressing himself against Aziraphale’s side. “Crowley, er, dear…you’re…”

“M’fine.” He sighed, not seeming aware of the world at all. “S’nice.”

For a long moment, Aziraphale stared at the demon who had – had invaded his space. Had settled against him in a most – most awkward and undignified way.

Well. There was really only one thing to do.

Aziraphale slid a little lower against the pillow, until he’d surrounded Crowley in the crook of his arm. “Is that better, dear?”

“St’ry.” But he settled into that space between Aziraphale’s side and his arm with a content sigh, arm now draped across the angel’s chest.

Oh, dear. This is not going to be easy to explain when he wakes up. But that wouldn’t be for several hours, at least, and right now, there was a very small smile on Crowley’s lips.

“Well. Chapter four. ‘When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much she admired him…’”

Thanks for reading! Pride and Prejudice was initially published in three volumes, in 1813, attributed simply to “The Author of Sense and Sensibility.” I have no idea what was going on in York in 1814 - I mostly needed someplace they could walk to but would take several days - so feel free to attribute whatever historical events you can think of to these dummies!

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #there's only one bed #aziraphale and his books #sleepy cuddles #sleepy snusband #short and sweet #fluff #good omens fluff #my writing #writing prompt #good omens prompts

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crimson-mage-02 · 6 years ago

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One Miracle, One Life

A/N: Hope you all will like this one-shot i have made. Took me a while to do this. and I managed to finish it! Enjoy reading! Comment and feedback are much appreciated.

@spacelion-loveshermulletson @whatusernamex3000

Summary: After getting married, Keith and Luka are living a peaceful married life just the way they like it. Then one day, Luka has wonderful news to tell Keith.

Bang! Crash! Smash! There was countless vases being thrown on the floor and the walls. Hunk and Lance hugged each other tightly in fear and they heard a shrilling pained screams from the other side of the room. They also heard encouraging shouting and cheers from the girls and Keith as they shouted “Push! Push!”

Inside the room, there was pained screams and cries as Keith held on to his wife, Luka. “It’s okay, Luka. It’s okay! You are almost there!” Keith encouraged his wife. Luka nodded and whimpered in pain as she screamed in pain again.

Few months ago….

Luka woke up to a very bright and early morning turning to see Keith behind her and had his arms wrapped around her waist. She smiled warmly as she turned slowly towards him and kissed him on the cheek. Keith groaned moaned lightly as he woke up, seeing his beautiful wife watching him waking up. “Well, morning beautiful.” Keith smirked as Luka giggled and then threw a pillow at him.

“Good morning to you too.” Luka grinned.

“Hmm! Well, why don’t we go out somewhere where your uncle won’t find us.” Keith suggested as he got up and stretched.

“That’s sweet, love. But you know I have to help him with the prepares of the next event of Altea. He needs my help. I will be very busy all day with meetings. And Romelle had asked me to help her out, too.” Luka reminded him as she went in the bathroom to change into her clothes.

Keith slumped down and laid down on the bed again, groaning. Wanting to spend more time with his wife. “Ugh, and I have nothing to do expect to lay down on the bed all day.”

Luka huffed and walked out of the bathroom with arms on her hip and huffed as she saw Keith laying on the bed. She then walked to the bed and then used her Altean super strength to pull the quilt away from him.

“Hey, Luka!” Keith whined looking at Luka with a pout.

“I am not going to let you rest all day long. Hang out with one of your friends. Or take Kosmo on a walk. Be more effective in your spare time, love.” Luka kissed him on the cheek.

“See you later, love!” Luka called out to him.

“See you later, babe.” Keith replied as he turned to Kosmo who wagged his tail happily and panting. He sighed and decided to listen to what his wife had suggested for him to do. He then got dressed in his everyday clothes and decided to take a walk around Altea.

He smiled as he felt the wind blowing gently and seeing the juniberry petals being blown in the wind as it went past Allura’s statue. Keith smiled at the statue and then moved on walking along the path and saw an Altean child with their parents, playing in the fields. He wondered if he had kids on his own, he’ll be a good father and husband.

He admired his Pop, when he was younger. Always a hero in his eyes. He wished his dad was here to see his wedding, Luka and maybe his children. Then he heard Kosmo barking happily as he was licking an Altean child on the face. The child was laughing with joy.

“He is cute! What’s his name?” asked the child.

“He’s name is Kosmo.” Keith replied with a smile and pets Kosmo’s head.

“Cool!” The child exclaimed in awe as his parents called out to him and he waved goodbye. Keith waved back as he moved on with his walk.

In the kitchen, Luka was helping Romelle with fixing up meals with Merla. There was some visitors coming from other planets to visit. Luka was feeling fine until she felt a bit nausea. Maybe because of the food? Or was she just hungry? No, she was definitely going to throw up! Luka gagged and covered her mouth and went to the trash can in the corner and threw up!

“Luka!” Romelle exclaimed worriedly.

“Lu!” Merla came to her side and put her hair back while Romelle rubbed her back.

Luka then wiped her mouth and panted, breathing in and out until she threw up again. Romelle and Merla winced from smelling the horrifying smell. “Ugh, sorry girls.” Luka apologised.

“It is quite alright. We can take it from here and see the doctor.” Romelle smiled gently at her as Luka nodded and then walked out of the kitchen and Hunk came pass by and she sweats nervously as she began to walk away, not wanting to hear the wrath from the former Yellow Paladin.

“WHAT THE QUIZNACK IS THAT SMELL?!” Hunk bellowed. Luka winced when she heard him shouting in the kitchen and heard her friends trying to calm him down.

After visiting the doctor, she went to her room and paced back and forth. Breathing steadily as she looked at her wedding band on her finger and smiled, remembering her wedding with Keith. They promised to be there for each other, even in desperate and happy times in the future.

Luka then went to her closet, opening it and looked at the big box. Before she opened it, she looked to see if anyone was going in and saw no one is going to go in the room. She opened the box and took out a picture frame of her mother, father, uncle and herself as a baby girl. She smiled as she brushed her finger over the image of her parents.

She then placed a hand on her stomach. She is pregnant! She is really pregnant! She smiled brightly and squealed happily. Then she went out to see her friends.

“Oh, Lu-Lu!” Merla came hugging her tightly.

“Whoa, Merla! Oh, Merla, Romelle I have wonderful news to share with you.” Luka smiled brightly.

“What is it?” Romelle asked in confusion seeing she was looking sick and the next thing she saw Luka all ecstatic.

“Ok. I am expecting!” Luka said. Merla and Romelle froze, taking it all in as Luka saw beaming smiles and squealed loudly as Hunk came in.

“What’s with all the racket?” Hunk asked.

“Oh, Hunk, Luka’s pregnant!” Romelle exclaimed excitedly.

Hunk smiled and then began to make some cooing noises in front of her stomach. “Oh, Hunk, there is no bump just yet.” Luka giggled and then gasped realising something. “How am I going to tell Keith?” Everyone in the kitchen gasped. Also not thinking of how Keith will react.

Later that night, Keith came back to the Castle with Lance. “You know, Katie and I were still looking for a house to live in. You have any ideas?” Lance asked, looking at his tablets and the options of different houses on Earth.

“You are really serious about this.” Keith commented as he looked at the houses. He saw all different sizes of the houses. How big it is and how small it is. “Are you sure you don’t want to live near Pidge’s place?”

“Uh, and have Matt always staring at me all the time? No way!” Lance exclaimed. “Besides, I promised Katie to have a peaceful life after you-know-what.” Keith nodded in understanding and he also wanted that with Luka after they got married.

Lance’s phone then rang and he lit up as he smiled at Keith apologetically. “Hey, Katie, what’s up?”

Keith smiled and let him take the call. “Oh? Ok, I’ll see you later then. Bye.” Lance said as he ended the call.

“What’s up?” Keith asked.

“She’s been doing some projects for the Garrison with Shiro and her Dad. Tonight, she’ll be at her parents house for a bit.” Lance replied, wanting to spend more time with his wife. “She’s been busy and we haven’t spent time together.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to stay here.” Keith offered.

“Thanks man, so, where’s Hunk anyways?” Lance asked as they walked down the hallway and stopped when they saw Luka.

“Oh, Keith! Lance! Hello.” Luka smiled and hid something behind her back.

“We were just looking for Hunk. What’s wrong, babe?” Keith asked, seeing her nervous and worried about something.

“Oh, nothing is wrong. But I have an urgent matter to talk to you about, Keith. It is really important. I thought we could talk about it over dinner.” Luka suggested.

“Yeah, we could do that.” Keith says, kissing her on the temple.

“Well, you two have fun with that. I’ll just spend time with Hunk.” Lance says as he left to go to the kitchen. Leaving the married couple alone. Keith and Luka smiled at each other as they went to their room. Luka had fixed up dinner and Keith was sitting down waiting for the food to get ready.

Luka then came in with food for them to eat. “Dinner is served, darling.” Luka said as Keith smiled and smelt the delicious aroma.

“These look great, Lu.” Keith grinned as he started to eat but saw Luka was already eating, munching on the food. Seeing her craving for more food than usual for the past few days. He thought she must’ve been hungry.

Luka wiped her mouth sheepishly, “Sorry, I was uh, very hungry all day.”

“That’s understandable. So, what is it you want to tell me about?” Keith asked as Luka put down the spoon and fiddles with her hands.

“Well, what I was I going to say might surprise you. And um, well, this morning I had heard the most wonderful news.” Luka says with a glowing smile.

“What is it?” Keith asked, wondering what is the great news that makes her happy. He then saw Luka smiling at her. She was glowing.

“Keith, you are about to become a father.” Luka said smiling as she held his hand.

Keith’s face changed from concern to shock or unreadable to Luka, which worries her until Keith got out his chair and grabbed Luka by the waist and spun her around. “Really? Our first baby?!”

“Oh yes, darling. Our first child.” Luka giggled as Keith rubbed her stomach with a big smile on his face.

In the next few months, everyone were very delighted to see that they were going to have their first child. A Galran-Altean child. Keith has been doing his Blade of Marmora duties less and his mom has been taking over his role for a while and looked after Luka. Luka has been having cramps, mood swings then cramps again.

Keith has been looking after her as he stayed at home with her to keep her company and Coran sometimes came by and watch over his niece.

Luka, now with a big swollen stomach with a baby growing inside of her, is reading a book to her child with a smile as Kosmo slept next to her. Luka was reading a book on naming babies. She was having a difficulties on what to call her son or daughter. She then looked over at Keith who was at the dining table, looking at his work from the blades.

“Darling? Do you have any suggestion in naming our child?” Luka asked as she closed her book.

Keith looked at his wife and hummed, “I haven’t thought of one.”

“Hmm, me either. But was thinking of naming our own daughter after my mother. Ariella.” Luka says.

Keith smiled, “That’s a nice name.”

“Hmm, thanks. For a boy, Lucius?” Luka asked. Keith thought of it and shook his head.

“Ok, we’ll work on that.” Luka sighed and then gasped.

“You ok?” Keith asked as he jumped off the chair.

“I am fine. Another kick from our child. Mostly have your strength.” Luka chuckled.

“And your beautiful looks.” Keith smirked as Luka blushed deep red but still laughed then she felt another kick. She rubbed her tummy and breathed out. Luka then gasped and froze.

“Luka? Lu? Babe, what’s wrong?” Keith asked as he came to her side.

“I think you should take me to the infirmary. Because my water just broke.” Luka says grabbing Keith’s shirt.

Keith’s eyes widen and looked for the tablet and then called Merla and Romelle to come down. Keith carried Luka to their room and lay her down carefully with Keith muttering words of encouragement. Coran, Merla and Romelle came in just in time for the delivery.

Lance came in with hot water and some towels and saw Merla delivering the baby, hearing Luka straining. “Ok, that’s all! Now what?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, the doctors aren’t even here yet!” Hunk exclaimed.

“I am a nurse also! Tavo is busy right now!” Merla says as Romelle held Luka’s hand.

Everyone was shouting out words that was overlapping the shouting and screams. Luka then grabbed a vase that was next to her. Bang! Crash! Smash! There was countless vases being thrown on the floor and the walls. Luka was throwing vases at the two former paladins. Hunk has been screaming and shouting, overlapping with Lance shrieking in panic.

This makes Luka annoyed so she grabbed the vase on her bedside table and threw it at them. Making hem go out of the room.

Hunk and Lance hugged each other tightly in fear and they heard a shrilling pained screams from the other side of the room. They also heard encouraging shouting and cheers from the girls and Keith as they shouted “Push! Push!”

“Oh! I can’t do this!” Luka cried in pain.

“Almost there, Lu.” Keith said as he held her hand tightly.

Luka breathed in and out as Keith put her hair out of the way and kissed her on the head. Lance and Hunk waited outside of the room. Waiting and waiting. Pidge came and went inside the room to help. They heard pained screams and cries again, making Lance pray for Keith and Luka.

After long hours, they heard a baby cries in the room. Keith was looking at his own child. He smiled and looked at their baby. “It’s a baby girl!” Merla announced and let Luka hold her daughter in her arms and smiled at her with love.

“Oh, Keith, she’s beautiful.” Luka says as tears rolled down.

“What are we going to name her?” Keith asked holding his daughter’s little hand.

“How about Cora? After Uncle Coran?” Luka asked. The two turned to see Coran having tears rolling down with a proud smile.

“Oh, that’s sounds like a wonderful name.” Coran says as he picked up his great-niece in his arms. He cooed at the baby girl in his arms and heard Luka yawning in exhaustion. “I will let you take a rest, my dear. I will take care of my great-niece.”

“Thanks, Coran.” Keith smiled.

Everyone left the couple in their quarters with Coran giving back Cora. Luka slept away with Keith rocking in his chair holding his daughter. He could see that she inherited her mother’s hair and her father’s eyes. Perfect combination from them. He smiled and kissed Cora on the head and let her sleep in the crib. Kosmo sniffed the baby and wagged his tail happily and then slept down on the ground next to the crib.

Keith turned to see Luka sleeping peacefully. He then laid down on the bed beside his lovely wife and wrapped his arms securely around her waist. Luka smiled and held his hands, prompting Keith to kissing her on the cheek and the new parents went to sleep, now entering a new chapter of their lives with their new daughter, Cora.

#my lukeith one-shots #lukeith oneshots #lukeith #plance

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max-neverland · 6 years ago

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Harry Potter: The Janus Thickey Ward

Neville strode down the familiar street, bumping shoulders with busy shoppers who were all hurrying to get out of the rain. He blended in with the muggle crowd in his jeans and heavy jacket, and his dark hair – desperately in need of a trim – was plastered to his forehead. His wand was carefully tucked away in a side pocket of his charmed backpack where he could easily reach it. There were grazes on his knuckles and an old bruise was fading on his jaw, but despite his rough appearance he still grinned broadly.

As he neared the run-down Purge & Dowse Ltd department store, he made a beeline towards the horrible mannequins displayed in its dusty windows. He feigned seeking shelter under the eaves, shoving his hands into his pockets and tucking his chin into his collar as he leaned against the faded red brick walls. After a minute, he threw the oblivious muggles a quick look and then fixed his gaze on one particularly ugly mannequin posing in the window.

“Longbottom.”

The mannequin’s head jerked down as if it were about to fall off and then jerked back up again in a spasmodic nod. Neville gave the street a last careful look, making sure that no one was watching him, and then stepped straight through the glass.

St Mungo’s reception room was in peak hour. Every rickety chair was filled with a witch or wizard in various states of distress; furry and scaly faces reminiscent of Hermione Granger in second year, limbs in the wrong places or missing altogether, and even one wizard was sitting tangled in a large potted plant appearing particularly regretful. Other normal-looking people were dotted throughout the aisles too; friends and family there for support, and green-robed Healers with the symbol of a crossed wand and bone emblazoned on their chests. The Healers all carried clipboards and every so often they would whisk someone away up the stairs or elevator.

Several Healers and the blonde witch at the enquiries desk called greetings to Neville, which he returned with familiarity as he headed to the doors that lead to the main area of the hospital on the ground floor. He spent the next three hours combing through the wards visiting the patients who were recovering from the Battle of Hogwarts, referring to a roll of parchment he pulled from his backpack that had all their names and room numbers written down. He had a collection of miniature potted plants in his backpack which he left with each patient to brighten up their rooms.

Luna had offered to come with him but this was something he had to do alone. It had been just two weeks since the second wizarding war had ended. Voldemort was dead, Azkaban was filled to the brim, and the Aurors were hunting down the last of the Death Eaters. In just a few days, Neville would be joining them too, recruited as a brand new Auror by the Acting Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, in recognition of his leadership in Dumbledore’s Army and his service in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Never in Neville’s wildest dreams had he thought he would become an Auror, especially at only seventeen years old. No longer was he the scared, clumsy little boy who was bullied incessantly with a toad for his best friend. After years of struggling, he had found his place in the Wizarding world among some of the greatest names in history. Neville himself had wielded the famous sword of Godric Gryffindor and beheaded Voldemort’s giant snake, Nagini, thus allowing Harry Potter to defeat the Dark Lord which apparently would have been impossible otherwise. He was a little fuzzy on the details but Harry’s word was good enough for him.

His head held high, Neville trotted up the next flight of stairs to the fourth floor. He paused at the door to the Janus Thickey Ward and studied his reflection in the window. It had been months since he had last been here, caught up as he was in the underground fighting at Hogwarts. His face was stripped off the last of his baby fat and there was a confident glint in his eye had had never had before.

He was just about to open the door when it opened from the other side and he nearly collided with Gilderoy Lockhart and his Healer, Miriam Strout. Lockhart, busy waving his battered peacock feather quill about and chattering excitedly, paid no attention to Neville but Strout flashed him a quick smile.

“I’ve just taking Gilderoy for a walk in the gardens and then we’ll be right back,” she told him, holding the door open for him.

“Thanks, Miriam,” he replied, grasping the door handle.

They disappeared down the corridor, Lockhart childishly bouncing along with his blue dressing gown flapping like bird wings as Strout chided him. Neville entered the room and shut the door securely behind him.

The curtains were drawn around Agnes’ bed space but Neville could hear her growling softly from within. Lockhart’s space was covered in photographs of himself, most of them autographed. A side table was stacked high with two piles of envelopes; one pile was addressed to Lockhart and one was addressed to a number of witches and wizards in Lockhart’s childish handwriting. At the very end of the room, hidden behind more curtains, were two further bed spaces and the sole window.

Neville padded through the room – Agnes barked twice as he passed her curtains – and went right to the end. He peeled the curtain aside. Beyond were two hospital beds; a night stand stood between them with an old Daily Prophet resting on top. The long window sill was laden with potted plants and framed photographs of Neville at various ages. A larger frame towered above the rest showing a smiling baby Neville in the arms of his parents.

“Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad.”

Frank Longbottom paid Neville no heed and remained sitting on his bed staring at the wall. Alice Longbottom turned from the window at the sound of his voice and gazed absently in his direction. They were both so thin and frail, their hospital gowns hanging like tents on their skeletal frames. Their hollow eyes were sunk deep in their narrow faces and their hair was white and wispy, despite how young they still were. The Cruciatus Curse had aged them decades.

Neville gave his parents a wide, warm smile and began to speak. He didn’t know if they could hear him, let alone understand, but he let the words flow out of him as he spoke about all that had happened at Hogwarts that year. He told them about heading Dumbledore’s Army with Ginny and Luna, and the underground fighting from the Room of Requirement. He explained to them as best as he could about what Harry, Ron and Hermione had been doing throughout that time, and then picked up the pace again when he came to the part where the trio arrived back at Hogwarts. There was notable pride in his voice as he told them of how he had fought against the Death Eaters and beheaded Nagini himself after pulling the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat. His composure splintered when he described how Molly Weasley had killed Bellatrix Lestrange but he regained it to finish the tale with the news of Voldemort’s death and his new career as an Auror.

As he talked, he pulled numerous items from his charmed backpack. He replaced the potted plants with fresh ones, magically dusted the photo frames, and draped bright quilts in Gryffindor colours over the dreary hospital bedsheets. He took away the old newspaper and left a huge jar of Honeydukes candy in its place. Frank did not seem to know he was there, not even when Neville helped him off the bed so he could put the quilt down, but Alice sometimes looked at him, her expression vague but her eyes still following him. When he had readied the room, Neville crossed over to the tall corner cupboard and arrange the clothes from his backpack into it.

It wasn’t strange for Neville to dress his parents. He hated seeing them in those old hospital gowns and so he made sure to bring fresh clothing for them every time he visited and he would help them get dressed. His father didn’t care about the soft slacks and knit sweaters Neville brought for him and he didn’t even seem to notice Neville brushing his hair, but Alice always seemed as pleased as she could be with the frilly dresses. She stood in the middle of the bed space now in a childish pink dress, running her hands over the frilly collar with a faraway look in her eyes. Neville stood behind her and gently brushed her hair, taking care not to pull out any of the delicate strands. He tied it up with a pink ribbon on top of her head. When he was done, Neville steered her towards the long mirror fixed to the inside of the cupboard door.

“You look beautiful, Mum.”

Alice turned around to cup his cheek in her hand, and smiled.

#maxneverland #fanfiction #neville longbottom #alice longbottom #frank longbottom #st mungos #the closed ward

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captaincanarygotmelike · 7 years ago

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Fic: Snapshots

For those of you who haven't read my multi-chapter AU Voices Carry, you might want to go read that first. For those of you who have, you might know that I brought Felicity in at the end of the last chapter and mentioned that Sara and Felicity were really close. I wrote this fic to go a bit deeper into that relationship that I would have been able to in Voices Carry. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction.net

“I’m pregnant.”

A beat of silence followed Sara’s words.

“What!” Felicity finally said, “You’re pregnant? Are you kidding me? How? Since when? Oh my God, I can’t believe this is actually happening!”

“I’m sorry,” Sara winced, “I know you’re mad. Just—”

Felicity froze.

“Sara,” she said, “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, my dad and my sister didn’t take it very well, so I figured…” she trailed off.

“They didn’t?” Felicity asked. Sara shook her head, “Oh, Sara,” she said sympathetically, wrapping her arms around Sara’s shoulders and pulling her towards her, “I’m so sorry.”

Sara tipped her head down to rest her cheek on Felicity’s shoulder.

“They’re gonna come around,” Felicity reassured her, “And you know what? If they don’t, I’ll be here with you every step of the way. I promise.”

After a couple minutes, Felicity pulled away, her hands still gripping Sara’s shoulders.

Wait,” Felicity said, “Who’s the dad? Is it…” she trailed off. Sara nodded guiltily, “And he…”

“He broke up with me before I could even fully tell him.”

“Aw, honey, that sucks,” Felicity pulled her back into a hug, “It’s all gonna be okay, trust me.”

…

“You’re sure you’re not upset?”

“Felicity, why would I be upset that you’re dating Oliver?” Sara said in exasperation as she adjusted the quilt on the side of the new crib in the corner of her room.

“I dunno, because you have all that history with him,” she shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, like four years ago, and anyway, if you’re the one he cheated with, and when the one he cheated on was your own sister, I don’t think you’re allowed to get upset when he starts dating someone else, like, a bunch of years later. Besides, it’s not me you have to worry about. It’s Laurel.”

“Yeah, I know. I already told her and she says she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“Then I say full steam ahead. If Oliver makes you happy, then you should go for it. Even if I wasn’t okay with it, I’d still say that.”

“And nothing about how he cheated once, he’ll cheat again?”

“Look, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met — literally. If you think you can trust him, you can. And you know what? If he still screws you over — not that I’m saying he will — then fuck him.”

Felicity giggled.

“What?” Sara asked.

“Oh nothing. Pregnancy hormones are making you all swear-y and I love it.”

…

“Ma’am, you can come in now.”

Felicity looked up from her magazine to see a doctor in green scrubs standing in front of a set of swinging wooden doors.

“Finally,” she huffed, putting her magazine down on a table and rolling her eyes as she followed the doctor through the doors.

He led her down a linoleum tiled hallway until they reached a door near the windowed end.

“Here she is,” the doctor said, pulling open the door and gesturing for Felicity to enter the room.

“Thanks,” Felicity nodded and quietly crossed the threshold.

On the hospital bed sat Sara, in a pale pink hospital gown with her blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail. In her arms, wrapped in a white blanket, was her new daughter.

Sara looked up from her baby to meet Felicity’s eyes. Her mouth spread into a wide smile.

“Felicity,” she said, “Hi.”

“Sara,” Felicity said breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful — she’s so beautiful! I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Sara replied softly.

Felicity walked across the hospital room, the loud clicking of her heels against the tile floor reverberating across the room.

“Do you want to hold her?” Sara asked.

Felicity nodded and gingerly took the baby from Sara, carefully cradling her in her arms.

She looked at the baby, wrapped tightly in the cotton blanket.

She was so tiny, the smallest she’d ever seen — not that she had any other babies to compare her to — with her little fingers poking out from under the blanket and little ears and nose. Her skin was pink and new and her eyes were squeezed shut.

“I heard you yelled at the nurses when they wouldn’t let you into the delivery room,” Sara said, smiling fondly at her friend.

“I wanted to be with you during all this,” Felicity looking back up at her, “But the nurses wouldn’t let me. They said only family was allowed in.”

“Family is more than blood.”

“Y’know, that argument doesn’t really hold with doctors for some reason.”

Sara laughed.

“Did you pick a name yet?” Felicity asked.

Sara nodded.

“Well?” Felicity prompted.

“Avery,” she finally said.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Felicity said breathlessly. She felt her eyes filling with tears.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m emotional, okay!” she exclaimed.

…

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Felicity said from where she was sitting on Sara’s bed. Avery was lying on her back beside her, wearing a fresh diaper and a soft cotton onesie. Felicity was tickling her belly and Avery was making the little baby noises that made Sara think her first laugh was on its way.

“I know,” Sara replied. She turned away from the teeny socks she was rolling into pairs and tossing into a plastic storage bin to smile sadly at Felicity, “But it’s something I have to do, you know?”

“Listen, all I know is that you are leaving me with all these crazy people. You know my mom is waist deep in planning her wedding. If I have to sit through another two-hour discussion about colors schemes without you to stop me from flipping a table, I’m gonna - I’m gonna—”

“Flip a table?” Sara finished.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, Lis, but I have to do this. I need a fresh start with Avery, and my mom has a couple spare rooms at her place in Central City, and she offered them, and saying yes felt right and it still does. I need to get away from Laurel and my dad. I feel like distance is what I need right now.”

“I really hope you aren’t gonna block them out of your life completely,” Felicity said tentatively.

“Not completely,” Sara shrugged, “But I haven’t forgotten how pissed Laurel was when I went into labor at her wedding reception.”

“I know,” she said sympathetically, “but you know how high strung she was about her wedding, and she said she was sorry.”

“I know,” Sara nodded, “I know. I’m not mad at her anymore — at least not really. I just feel like that same frustration is still there for her.”

“I guess I get it,” Felicity nodded, “I’m just gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Lis,” Sara smiled.

“And I’ll miss this little munchkin,” Felicity cooed at Avery, “I’m gonna come visit you all the time so I can see you grow up into the beautiful little girl I know you’re gonna be. And you’re gonna be so smart, and funny, and kind. And you know why? Because my best friend is your mommy and she’s all those things too.”

“Felicity,” Sara groaned, “You’re gonna make me cry, and if I cry, you’re gonna cry, and I don’t have the energy to stop that.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, her voice catching, “I’m already there.”

She got off the bed and hugged her friend.

“Aw, Lis,” Sara said into Felicity’s hair, “I’m only a train ride away.”

“I know,” Felicity replied, swiping underneath her glasses at the tears on her cheeks, “I’m still gonna miss you though.”

…

Sara jumped as her laptop started to ring.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text from Felicity.

“PICK UP,” she had sent.

Sara rolled her eyes and accepted the video chat request.

“Hey,” she said when a box displaying Felicity’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hi!” Felicity said excitedly, “Oh my God, I’ve missed talking to you so much. How’ve you been? How’re you settling in?”

“Pretty well,” Sara shrugged.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s at a meeting at the university. It’s just me and Avery tonight.”

She tipped the screen down to reveal Avery asleep on her legs.

“I miss her,” Felicity said sadly, then she added, “And you, of course.”

“I miss you too,” Sara replied.

“You’re happy there?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Sara nodded, “I already got a job as a homicide detective at the CCPD — I didn’t realize how rough working with my dad was. It’s so much better here. I work with this kid, Barry. He’s the forensic analysis and he’s, like, twenty and he’s adorable.”

“That’s awesome,” Felicity replied, “I’m really happy for you.”

“What’s going on in Star City? How’s your mom’s wedding planning going?”

“Well,” Felicity said matter-of-factly, “With seven months to the wedding, she has finally settled on a table setting.”

“Wow,” Sara said.

“Yes, it’s very exciting. Oh, by the way, I think she wants to commandeer Avery as flower girl, so be ready for that phone call.”

“Great.”

…

“Sara!”

Sara turned around to see Felicity approaching her as quickly as she could on her precariously high heels that matched her pale pink bridesmaid dress.

“Sara,” she repeated, stopping when she reached her to lean on a table of food as she caught her breath.

“Oh my God,” she finally got out, “You’re here! I didn’t see you in the ceremony.”

“I was there,” Sara nodded, “Near the back in case Avery got fussy.”

“Hi Avery!” Felicity cooed, taking the baby from Sara and bouncing her up and down in her arms, “Look how big you are! You’re one whole year old now! Can you believe it?”

Avery’s mouth spread into a smile that revealed her new bottom teeth as she reached to grab Felicity’s necklace.

“She’s getting so big,” Felicity told Sara wistfully.

“I know,” Sara nodded.

“Every time I see her, she’s different.”

“You should come visit more,” Sara told her, “I miss you. I hate not being able to see you every day.”

“Me too. You’re, like, my best friend and one of the most important people in my life. I don’t want it to stop being that way just because you’re living in a different city.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, no matter how small, I’ll always be there,” Sara told her.

Felicity hugged Sara, Avery sandwiched between them.

“I love you so much, Lis,” Sara said.

“I love you too, Sara,” she replied, pulling away. Felicity squeezed Avery a little tighter, swaying back and forth, “And I love this little cutie too, of course.”

#lot #captain canary #lot ff #cc ff #legends of tomorrow #voices carry #mine

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dans-les-fleures · 6 years ago

Text

The Stork

Car rides tend to be what calms most infants down, but you don’t have a car. You have your legs, and public transportation, and a park just down the way that holds a bench by a lake where you can just hear the soft music of the carousel nearby humming over the babbling of the ducks. They’re almost always nibbling at bread and toting around their own offspring (though theirs follow them in messy, zig-zagged lines while your own little bundle is less agile, more soft fussy lump kept cradled in a wrap).

She likes those sounds for some reason. Maybe if you find some cheap cassettes with fairgrounds music you won’t have to make the sojourn every time she refuses to nap but, in the meantime, you don’t mind so much.

It’s peaceful here.

It’s so peaceful that when someone else walks by with a head of lettuce, summoning all the birds, you scarcely notice they’ve even spoke to you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there, I wouldn’t have brought the zoo running.”

The voice is bashful and a little low; you almost didn’t hear it, and stir from your rapture at rocking your mumbling daughter against your chest when you realize the words are directed at you.

“Wha? Oh! Don’t worry, we’re fine,” you smiled back awkwardly, eyes adjusting to the sunlight glinting off the water after gazing down at the shadowy blanket for so long. When the values of the world all line up, your expression flickers with quiet surprise.

The owner of the voice looks like a prince. Royalty. Soft hair and blinking, mirthful eyes and a succulent face. His clothes are comfortable and clean and there’s something – something incredible about his mouth, the way his lips fill in his magazine-worthy smile.

For the first time in weeks, a flicker of something stirs in your belly, burning a tiny hole in the tiredness that had permeated your bones for months, it seemed.

“She – she likes the ducks, anyhow,” you tack on, a little breathless.

The stranger looks terribly happy to hear that, and stares longer than necessary. You dreadfully hope you’re not leaking, because that’s your worst nightmare, but then a beak latches onto his pant leg and he makes a strangled noise, kicking away at the fowl.

“Well,” he says brightly, fumbling with his lettuce, “maybe when she gets older I’ll bring her something green to share with them. If I haven’t killed them yet.”

The idea, in all its ridiculousness, is so charming that you can’t help but grin at him anyway.

“Sounds good,” you beam, nodding.

The carousel continues in the distance – a disembodied lullaby of candy horses and gilded trim on the cool breeze of springtime. The stranger – Jin, his name is, Seokjin, but Jin for short – tosses the leaves far off in the water, to keep the birds astray from your safe place on the worn wooden bench, and when his hands are empty and the hungry are full you can’t help but offer him a place beside you.

He doesn’t hesitate before accepting; he just lets his gaze linger on your happily dozing bundle in your arms a few seconds longer before he joins you.

“She’s very sweet,” he murmurs not even five seconds after sitting. His head tilts, and his chocolate eyes never leave her peaceful face. “What’s her name?”

“Vi, like the letter ‘V’,” you answer in a half-whisper to match his own; best not to wake her. “I love her so much.”

Jin looks up at you after that statement. Something in his face makes your own skin feel warm and flushed, and gosh, it must be the weather – it’s a beautiful day out today, and the pleasant feeling has naught to do with the tenderness of his smile or the sincere curve of his eyes.

“I can see why.”

–

Coming to the lakeside becomes far less of a chore, suddenly. You’re certain it’s the weather improving and not at all the sudden acquisition of company to the mix.

Company that brings an extra set of tea – a post-natal mix good for breastfeeding, he makes sure to clarify, and you can only respond with a deadpan “I didn’t know you were breastfeeding” – and biscuits and blanket, just in case your back hurts and you want to lay down instead.

You choose to do that more often than you’d think. And sometimes, with Vi snoozing against your breast and the sunshine warm and the quilt smelling good in an uncommonly masculine and faint sort of way, you doze off, too, for a much-needed nap. A month ago, if someone had asked you if you’d be able to fall asleep on the ground at the park nearby with a male stranger you’d mostly just met, you would have laughed yourself into hysterics.

But you wake up a bit less than an hour later, and Jin is still there – just sitting on the bench like some sort of Greek statue, wistfully admiring the lake and not minding the wind that ruffles his kempt hair. And you feel safe.

“Morning,” he says by way of a joke after he notices you blinking sleepily, a little flustered. It’s almost three in the afternoon. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you mumble back, struggling to decide between sitting up for your own benefit or laying down for Vi’s. She’s still out like a light, drooling on your shirt. “I actually did. You’re kind of a saint, Kim.”

Jin rolls his eyes at that, and plucks a biscuit from his plastic baggie. “You obviously don’t know me well enough. Here, eat.”

And he leans over and pops the treat in your mouth before you can say no. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were, and sigh through closed lips as your eyes shut at how good it is.

“More?” he quips, eyebrow raised.

You try not to smile – you really, really do – but your cheeks feel warm when you nod and give in. “More.”

Needless to say, you don’t sit up. But you are hand-fed for the next few minutes, and the world is a beautiful place in those moments.

Your internal clock knows your child will be rousing shortly. You don’t want to go; you want time to stop and keep you here, safe and serene in this place untouched by the rest of your life. There is no small, drafty apartment; no absent father, no lonely mother that lives across the country, no bills to be paid.

You are just a mom with a new friend in a place that makes you feel at home.

–

Vi doesn’t always cooperate, but such is life when you have a newborn.

“I wish, sometimes, that I, too, could scream and cry in public,” Jin says loftily, and you snort tiredly despite the exhaustion burrowing in your soul. Your daughter wails and hiccups and fusses to no end, and no amount of rocking and cooing and shushing helps to any avail. The pacifier does nothing for her, nor does the shade, or swaddling, or rubbing her back.

“I hope she’s not sick,” you muse out loud, though she isn’t feverish or anything of the sort. You know you are patently blessed that she’s been the paragon of health since conception, but you never know when your luck or good graces will run out.

“Is she hungry?” Jin hovers nearby, but not too close. He never wants to invade on your personal space, even though you’ve offered to let him hold her half a dozen times. It almost hurts that he declines – he looks at her with such raw adoration that you can only wish he has a child of his own one day to bask in that kind of care. If he wants to love on Vi, you would be happy to let him.

Nevertheless.

“Um,” you start to say, brow furrowing. You had tried to nurse her before you let the house, but she’d wanted nothing of it. The second problem arises in the fact that if she now was in the mood, that would mean nursing in front… of Jin… which was fine, absolutely fine. Perfectly fine.

You can feel the blush creeping up your throat, and can’t quite make eye contact as your voice gives out. “I suppose she might be.”

“Would you like me to go?”

The question takes you by surprise. Despite all your doubtful thoughts crowding your head, it’s even more surprising that the one that cuts through them all is a resounding no. No – you do not want him to go, at all, remotely, actually.

Shaking your head, you resign yourself to plopping on the well-worn bench and gritting your teeth as you begin the wriggling out of your bra cup and adjusting the tied-up blanket nicely to hold her and cover you.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” you sort of manage to say, ears ringing with the disjointed quacking sounds coming from your baby. “But if – if she’s giving you a headache or you need to go–”

“I have nowhere else I want to be,” Jin interrupts instantly, and it’s firm and careful enough that you look up with wide, stunned eyes, because something in the way he speaks to you sometimes makes you feel…

Doused in a cottony feeling that stuffs up your chest, you can only gape at him, wide-eyed and unable to articulate a thing. Jin just smiles back before looking a little pink-cheeked and glancing away, and of course Vi latches on as soon as she can and the crying ceases right after.

You settle in on the bench, relief smothering you as nothing but the sound of carousel music and ducks conversating and the leaves rustling in the trees above takes over.

“Mind if I sit?”

Jin’s bravery shows up in unexpected ways.

“Of course, dummy,” you tease, and Jin just sighs dramatically as he takes his place. You can tell he’s careful about averting his gaze, but it’s difficult trying to think straight when you’re sleepy and an abnormally attractive, generous man is staring you right in the face.

“Isn’t it weird having a conversation while a tiny human is drinking from your mammary?” He says after a beat, and you have to actively stop yourself from bursting into snorting laughter.

You flump your head back instead, shoulders shaking quietly as you giggle. The truth slips out a tad too easily: “Never with you. Nothing’s ever weird with you.”

That’s the first day he invades your personal space – he laughs, too, but it’s more of a hum that goes straight to your heart. At some point he shifts a little closer, until your shoulders are touching and he’s a welcome furnace at your right.

Waking up an hour later to your head lolled comfortably on aforementioned shoulder and Vi babbling and drooling contentedly, excitedly even at Jin, who is still dutifully ignoring your exposed breast and just entertaining your infant in hushed whispers and silly expressions is, unquestionably, embarrassing at an eleven out of ten. But Jin doesn’t seem to pay it any mind. He just mentions that you looked like you needed the rest, and comments on nothing else.

Later that night, in your creaky bed with curtains that need to be replaced, you roll over on your pillows and wonder why you can’t get comfortable. Vi is out of the night, hopefully, just beside you, and hasn’t made any complaint since her dinner. But you can’t sleep.

Not for the first time, you wish Jin was there and not wherever he was actually.

–

Today is one of the first days, though, that you try to regain a semblance of your old life.

There is something comfortingly familiar about pulling out your makeup bag that hasn’t been touched in the longest it’s ever been untouched, and an unsureness in picking a pretty blouse. You had been avoiding those out of paranoia of leaking through your bra, considering you had enough milk to supply a small country. Comfortable tights and slip-ons remain, though. You didn’t think you’d even attempt jeans for another month at least.

If Jin notices anything different, he doesn’t say anything. Part of you mires in disappointment. You have to be honest with yourself – you are not only nursing a child, but also a small crush on this man who hosts online cooking shows from his apartment. It explained why the snacks he brought were always unrealistically good and why he could always make time to see you, at least.

But even if Jin doesn’t say anything, there is something off. Odd pauses in his sentences. Moments where you catch him staring, dumbstruck. He looks dry-mouthed and tense when your discussion on maternity leave winds down and you’re nursing Vi easily, no more shyness with him involved.

You’re about to ask if he’s feeling under the weather when he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

You are positive you look like a moron – a breastfeeding, single mother moron with hot cheeks and a wholly self-conscious and stupid smile when you stammer and hem and haw before forcing your head to make a nodding motion. “Yes,” you say, flustered. “Please.” Iwouldlovenothingmore.

Jin’s your friend, so it’s not a date. But he seems to practically melt with pleasure.

“Great. I’ll cook.”

–

Kim Seokjin lives downtown. He hails a taxi, less you have to walk decently father than your usual few blocks, and keeps up a steady stream of chatter about what you’re craving and what your favourites are. Your newfound love of artichoke is interesting, but peanuts now make you throw up almost on command. Your sweet-tooth has stolidly remained, and you will never say no to a good cut of meat.

You will probably never say no to Jin’s cooking, either.

As it turns out, Jin lives downtown, in a very nice apartment.

After scanning a card and entering a gate and getting rung in, you can only watch in awe as the elevator takes you up and up and up, til you come to a floor with perfectly vacuumed carpets and polished doors. Jin unlocks his, and invites you in with a gentlemanly bow and gesture.

It’s like something out of a movie. An entire wall, the one overlooking town, is just nothing but tall and pristine windows, and the whole place is an elegant, cozy but not crowded mix of monochromes and wood and plants. Lots of potted, green things, sprouting up everywhere.

“Jin,” you begin seriously, still gaping at his home. “This is beautiful. This is insane.”

“You are beautiful and this is just an apartment. Sit wherever you want.”

You obey, regardless, somehow not managing to melt from his off-handed comment. You spread out the usual blanket on the floor and line it with pillows for Vi to flop about on safely, and tentatively go for the remote. Jin, however, has his own in the kitchen, and merely rolls his eyes before turning the TV for you.

“You can put on anything but the news,” he warns half-jokingly, but you don’t need to be told twice. Conveniently, the first thing on is the cooking channel and you sink into the plush couch with Vi in your periphery as the aroma of sauteed vegetables and meat browning permeates the space.

Part of you wants to nap on the couch – precious stolen moments, after all – but you force yourself to keep your eyes open. You’re glad you do, because at some point the show changes and Jin has more than a few things to say about the contestants on the cooking competition. He’s seen this episode before, it turns out, and your usual amicable, dry-humored friend turns into someone bitter and cynical and utterly stomach-hurting hilarious as he says the foulest things you have ever heard in your life at a television screen. He does all of it with a smile. Every nasty remark is pleasant and jovial and brimming with sarcasm until there are tears streaming down your face and you’re begging him to stop before you vomit.

The timing works out, thankfully, and the table is set and plated despite your insistence that you help. He won’t let you. He doesn’t trust you to set it perfectly yet – and yet is the operative word, because he also promises to teach you if you’d ever like to learn.

And then there are steaming entrees placed before two chairs flawlessly, and your mouth is watering more than it ever has before. You don’t know the name of what he’s made, but the the colours are vibrant and rich and the sauce runs along the corners artfully and you’re in the seat gawking at it before you even realize you’ve gotten up from the couch.

“Oh,” you croak out, “my god.”

Jin’s entire face scrunches with pride.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now eat.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You entire universe becomes that four-course dinner, and from the first bite you’re certain you would give up almost anything to just marry him and never have to eat any other food again. Nothing is undercooked, nothing is dry, the seasoning is measured and delicious and you think it’s possible to die of happiness.

Jin just watches you. From his seat across from yours, he observes keenly, hawklike eyes on every bite and measuring your reaction to every single sampling. He has never cared about someone’s response to his cooking as much as he has in this single moment, and his emotions are fervent tangle of kid-in-a-candy-store and very subtly turned on by all the expressions of pleasure your face can wear.

“Would it be weird if I said it’s great watching you eat?”

Maybe the quality of the cooking has possessed you. Jin’s question is light, teasing, and you toy with the fork against your plate mildly before glancing up from under your eyelashes.

“I told you already,” you warble, twirling the fork, “nothing’s ever weird with you.”

You can see how Jin’s throat bobs and he inhales slowly, patiently, something fragile and dark and mysterious lighting up behind his eyes. A slow, seductive smile plays on his lips, but he doesn’t comment any further than, “Silly me. How could I forget.”

When he cleans up afterwards, he lingers and stands closer than the usual. But it doesn’t feel wrong or intimidating – your heart misses a few beats and hurries to catch up again, and you thank him a million times for the meal and offer to repay him soon.

“The only way you’ll repay me is by letting me cook for you more,” he counters without pausing to even breathe. The dishes clink in the sink and you want to wash them out of good manners, but a hard look from his end keeps you pouting and seated.

“Fine,” you harrumph. “But if you teach me how to set tables, I get to teach you how to change a diaper.”

The expression on Jin’s face at those words haunts you that night, and the next day. It was like his whole aura softened, melted butter in the microwave, marshmallows in a pot; a man crumbling a little under the weight of his own love and hopes. Part of you wonders if he really, really cares about Vi that much. Or if he just has a diaper fetish.

You fall asleep wondering at all the expressions his beautiful face has to offer.

–

There are many things to love about Kim Seokjin.

He’s never late, for one. If he says he’ll be at the park at 2:30, he’ll be there at 2:20. He’s funny in a way you never see in people often anymore, and he’s very easy on the eyes. He’s not stupid – he’s mature, and insightful, and has an endless well of patience. He teaches cooking classes on the side, and he swears that is why he is as tired and patient as he is. He’s a good listener, but an even better storyteller. His cooking is unbelievable, and he learns how to change diapers without a single complaint.

He somehow always knows what not to say.

Jin has never once asked about Vi’s father. You have no intentions of bringing it up; as far as you’re concerned, the stork brought her, like it probably did many other babies in similar situations to yours.

Somewhere along the line dinners and visits become the norm. He’s yet to come to your house – fine by you, considering it’s a dump – and the moment of truth arrives when you get to the park fifteen minutes late and frazzled and realizing you forgot the diaper bag even though you left it by the front door so you wouldn’t forget.

“Today has been a day,” you croak out, very badly wanting to cry. Vi slept terribly the night before, ergo you just didn’t sleep, and your feet were sore from pacing and the only thing getting you through the day was the prospect of seeing Jin and having a homecooked meal and sitting somewhere that didn’t remind you of the fact that your savings weren’t going to last much longer.

Jin frowns. Without a sound, he removes his jacket and swaddles it around you, and tucks your hair back behind your ears and out of your way.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, “it’s okay. It happens. We can pick it up. We can stay there instead if you want us to.”

You’re too fatigued to argue, and the taxi driver doesn’t blink at only driving a few short blocks. You’re still in a daze when you unlock your door and enter, searching for the bag.

“This is your apartment?”

Jin’s voice startles you – you forgot he was there. Blushing, you grimace and wish you hadn’t invited him in unintentionally.

“Um, yeah,” you answer, self-conscious. Jin looks apologetic at his initial remark, and quickly grabs Vi’s baby bag to sling over his shoulder with a gentle smile.

“It’s just… more minimalist than I expected. You seem like the sort to keep lots of flowers and lamps.”

He’s not wrong. You laugh at the sentiment anyway, and wish you had the money for such nice things.

“Maybe one day,” you muse instead of giving him a real response.

Jin is quieter than usual on the ride back to his place. He sits on his phone, consumed by whatever it is he’s looking at – you think, from a peek, he’s online shopping – and by the time you’re at his place you feel like you might just fall over.

“May I hold her?”

You’re standing in the living room when he asks, and you almost forget to be shocked.

“What? Oh, I– yes. Please. Do you know how to hold babies?”

This is the most you and he have ever touched. Jin towers over you like a knight without any armor except a disarming smile and clean clothes, and every touch is certain and delicate when you angle and order his arms and hands into the perfect cradle. Vi seems even smaller in his grasp despite the fact that she’s been growing like a weed – a pretty weed with tufts of hair, though – and she doesn’t fuss for a single second.

“There you go,” you whisper, smiling stupidly. “Right as rain.”

Jin looks embarrassed, but his eyes are bright and he might be glowing a little.

“Great,” he says, voice cracking. You have the decency not to laugh.

The man is a natural with her. You knew this, of course, but it’s surreal to see him carry her around with one arm securely while he directs you off to the guest bedroom – “The bedding is clean, I promise” – and orders you to take a nap while he prepares dinner.

The only scary part is that you have never left Vi alone with anyone. Something in you still panics, wants to snatch her back and hide, but reason kicks in and you force yourself to wave them off kindly as you enter the other room in the hall.

The guest room seems like something out of a hotel suite, and you think at first you won’t be able to fall asleep somewhere so nice.

(You’re halfway to dreamland by the time your head hits the pillow.)

–

Jin’s preoccupation with his phone makes sense three days later. Dinner is a gorgeous, presumably expensive mix of fruits and cheeses and crackers – to go easy on your stomach, he insists after you mentioned it aching earlier – but the real surprise comes from realizing there is a foldable crib in the living room and a chest carrier hanging from the coat rack. Later, you’ll find a changing station in the guest bedroom, already packed with fresh diapers and wipes and powder and cream.

“I-I hope you don’t mind,” Jin speaks up, voice trembling just a notch. It’s one of the only times you have ever truly seen him nervous. “I just thought it would be better for her to have some things here, too. For comfort. I’m not–”

Jin is cut off by you forcibly hugging him. Vi is smushed carefully between you and him, and you’ll never know why this is what broke the dam. After months of rotting away and being a new mom to the most perfect thing that had ever been made, pretending the stork was real, accidentally befriending the second most perfect thing that had ever existed, your heart couldn’t take it anymore. You did not think you could love anymore than Vi. Your heart was only so big.

But Kim Seokjin existed, and your heart grew bigger.

“Jin,” you cry, muffled into his shirt. “Seokjin. I love you. I love you so much. Thank you.”

Strong, warm arms wrap around you like the thick rope tied to an old anchor. Jin smells like mint and shallots and his soap, and mixed with the nice baby smell of Vi you can only cry harder because it all just smells like home.

Wet drops on your head make you grin ridiculously against his chest, sniffling and laughing and not sure what do with yourself anymore.

“You…” Jin starts to say, and you think he might be laughing, too. “You are… Really something.”

–

This time, for dinner, Jin pulls his chair beside yours and feeds you himself while Vi rolls around in her new crib with her old blanket – the one he’s always brought to the park for her. He politely points out that you are, in fact, leaking. Maybe all the crying did it. You make a strangled moan of embarrassment but he just giggles and mentions it’s really such a waste of something good.

And then he kisses your cheek in the midst of you cleaning yourself up.

“Maybe you can try it sometime,” you suggest playfully, flushing from your neck to your ears and ignoring the heart palpitations.

Jin looks at you with grave seriousness. “I love you.”

Kim Seokjin is no stork, but maybe things will work out after all.

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